#and he can’t even talk to his flowers in peace cause they’d all interrupt him and ask him what he’s doing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chiliiscereal · 4 years ago

Note

Here’s your GIF for the writing challenge!

Prompt: “It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.”

Good luck and thanks for participating!💛

Thanks for letting me do this challenge again @crossbowking !

Pairing: father figure Daryl x reader AGAIN cause I’m a sucker for that lol

Setting: season 2

Type: fluff and angst I guess?

Summary: when looking for Sophia, Daryl finds reader holed up in a cabin. Reader doesn’t speak, doesn’t listen, and doesn’t trust them at all. No one can figure out why but reader sticks with them anyway. One day, Daryl follows reader when they sneak out of camp, hoping to find out what could possibly have happened to make them like that

——————-

Silent world

Sophia’s tracks had begun to fade like the afternoon sunlight. They had gotten faint but Daryl didn’t want to tell Carol the truth. Eventually they disappeared and he was only left with a direction.

He found a set of footsteps the size of Sophia’s about thirty minutes later. It had to be her. Judging by how they weren’t set in one specific direction, whoever it was must be lost.

He followed the footsteps to an old cabin. She had to be in there.

You, however, hadn’t realized you were followed until the door was opened. You felt the thumping of cautious footsteps on the floorboards and immediately jumped into action. You pulled yourself from the floor quickly and hid yourself beneath the dusty bed in the corner, dragging the blankets down to obscure you from their vision. If there was one thing you’d learned in this new world it was that you couldn’t trust people. Strangers, family, doesn’t matter.

“Sophia?” Daryl called out as he peered around the corner cautiously. He glanced about the room, taking in the living conditions.

Old food wrappers...

Empty water bottles...

A few blood stains...

An old backpack that CLEARLY wasn’t Sophia’s...

Whoever had been there it wasn’t Sophia. They’d been there longer than the girl had been lost.

He tightened his grip on his crossbow. “Whoever’s in here better come out now.” He ordered.

The only response was a slight shuffling noise from under the bed. If it had been Shane or Rick they wouldn’t have heard it. But Daryl had been hunting out in the woods since he was a child, trained in hearing the sounds of hiding creatures.

Whoever they were they were alive.

“Gonna hide forever?” He growled, raising the crossbow so it pointing at the bed.

Nothing.

He was absolutely tired of this person acting like their cover hadn’t been blown.

“Get out before I drag ya out myself.” He ordered, stepping closer.

Still nothing.

Finally, he had enough of it. He reached over and pulled the blanket away from the floor. He waited... thinking they’d come out.

No movement at all.

He grabbed the bed by its headboard and shoved it away from the wall, causing a small gasp to come from underneath it.

You were no longer in darkness.

You opened your wide eyes and backed up against the wall, chest heaving with panic.

This man looked dangerous to say the least.

Mean expression.

Weapon out and pointed at her face.

Knife hanging at his belt.

Suspicious blood stains on his shirt.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” He groaned. “I go out lookin’ fer one kid and then I find a different one?”

You didn’t respond. You just watched him with wide eyes.

“Ya seen another girl ‘round here, kid?” He asked, trying to calm down.

Still nothing. You just pulled your legs closer and tried to press closer into the wall.

“Got a family?” He interrogated with a firmer tone. “A group? Parents? Hell, even a weapon?”

You watched him carefully. Almost too carefully in Daryl’s opinion. Once he’d finished you shook your head, eyes drifting back to the crossbow in his hand.

He hadn’t even realized it was still pointing at her. He lowered it but still kept the weapon in his grip. “The hell am I ‘sposed to do now?” He asked himself out loud. “Don’t need another mouth to feed.”

You didn’t offer any suggestions. All you did was stare.

After a moment he groaned, his morals speaking louder than the selfishness of a survivor. “Damn it. C’mon. Get up.” He waved you to follow after him.

You shook your head, backing away. You didn’t know this man! He could hurt you! Do bad things! No way in hell would you willingly go with him.

He frowned. “Can’t ya talk?”

Nothing.

Just wide eyes.

“Listen, I’m ‘bout to leave yer ass alone in the woods if ya don’t give me a good enough reason why ya can’t.” His temper began to flare. “Got a group, got food, got water, an’ other kids. Seems like a pretty good deal ta me.”

You seemed to react to the word ‘kids’. You sat up a bit and seemed to watch him with interest.

“Yeah. We got another kid at our camp.” He nodded. “It’s safe.” He swore he was about to leave right then when you said nothing.

You looked down at the floor, thinking. Was this a good idea? He could easily be lying. Very easily. He seemed to know exactly what to say. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

But other kids... safety... and water... that was something you hadn’t seen in a good long while. Might as well give it a try, right? You could always run if things went south. You were good at that.

Needless to say, Daryl was surprised when you pulled yourself off the ground and picked up your bag. You gave him a wary look but followed him anyway.

“So, ya ever talk?” He asked as the two of you walked through the woods.

You didn’t answer. You just surveyed the woods carefully. He could have men out there waiting to jump you and do bad things. Or there could be walkers. You didn’t know.

Your racing thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder, flinching you out of your state of mind.

“Gonna answer me or what?” Daryl asked, getting more and more frustrated.

You just frowned at him, unsure of what he was saying. He was talking too fast for you to follow along with it.

“I asked if ya ever talk.” He shouldered his crossbow, no hope whatsoever in you answering.

All he got in return was a shrug.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sighed. Whatever. At least he’d be able to walk to the farm in silence.

—————-

When they arrived everyone was confused on who you were or where you came from.

The people living in the farm house asked you many questions and you could only catch a few words here and there.

Where

Who

Name

Girl

Sophia

Seen

Group

Woods

You just stared at the floor, unsure of how to respond.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Maggie asked quietly. “She’s not answering anything.”

“Been like that since I found ‘er.” Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t sure ‘a her name, family, or if she even got anybody.”

“Where’d you find her?” Lori frowned. “Surely she has parents somewhere out there.”

Daryl wanted nothing more to leave and return to his tent. But he answered anyway. “Was in a cabin. By the looks ‘a it it’s just her.”

“Sweetie, can you tell us your name?” Lori bent down so she could see your face. “Or where your parents are?”

Your eyes didn’t leave the floor.

Lori sighed. “It’s almost as if she can’t hear me.”

“Or don’t want to.” Shane snorted, leaning against the wall. “Kid doesn’t seem too happy to be here. Probably just thinks ignorin’ us is gonna make us mad or some shit.”

“Damn right it’s makin’ me mad.” The hunter watched the kid in front of him. “Can’t tell if it’s on purpose.”

“I’ve heard ‘bout kids shutting down an’ not speak in’ when they’ve been through somethin’ traumatic.” Hershel informed the group. “It could be like what happened to Beth earlier, an’ it’ll just take some time for her to come around.”

That was the answer everyone seemed to settle on.

They gave you time as well as plenty of opportunities to talk to them. They tried asking questions or telling you things but you didn’t respond no matter how hard anyone tried.

Daryl began to suspect what the real case could be when you didn’t even respond when Shane yelled at you.

He’d been trying to hurry up the process by forcing you to talk. When he got no response he finally snapped.

You’d been reading a book Maggie let you borrow, unaware that anyone had been talking. But you caught on quickly when the book had been slapped from your hands.

You gasped and stumbled away, face to face with an angry Shane.

You weren’t close to anyone in the group so you ran to the person who had brought you there, hiding behind Daryl.

Daryl had been surprised. He didn’t think you liked anybody there at all. After all, you never talked to anybody. Never answered any questions. Being there for five days hadn’t changed anything.

“The hell’s yer problem man.” Daryl growled. “Ya always go ‘round tryin’ to scare kids or what?”

“It’s not my damn fault she won’t talk.” Shane yelled. “She’s gonna learn some respect if she wants to stay here.”

“Yellin’ at her won’t get ya any damn respect.” Daryl bit back. “Hershel said it’d take time, didn’t he?” He glanced down at you as you hid your face from the fight.

“It’s takin’ too much in my opinion.” Shane rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

From that day on you steered clear of Shane and stayed by Daryl’s side. He wasn’t too sure why you’d chosen him out of everyone else and neither were you. But it seemed to be the right choice. The man never forced you to talk. He never yelled at you when you didn’t react.

It seemed like he simply enjoyed peace and quiet.

You helped around the farm house by washing dishes and feeding chickens. You helped Maggie and Lori make dinner and always helped them clean up after.

You picked flowers for Lori.

You showed Carl how to climb a tree.

You played cards with Glenn.

If Daryl didn’t know better he’d say that you were enjoying your stay at the farm.

But you still weren’t talking.

You interacted with everyone, yeah, but you still never spoke.

Not even when the farm fell.

—————

You and everyone had spent almost a month out in the woods once the farm was gone. You bounced from house to house and never stayed in one spot longer than needed.

One house you stayed at, you found a pair of small batteries. Even wire and tweezers. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you hope.

So that night you snuck out to the back yard once you were sure everyone was asleep.

But everyone wasn’t.

Daryl wasn’t.

He’d noticed the moment you disappeared.

He’d gotten up and walked outside, crossbow in hand. Maybe you’d ran away. Or got taken. Maybe you went outside and gotten lost.

But he found you leaning against a tree instead.

“It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.” Daryl stated, even though he knew you wouldn’t respond.

You did however react to feeling his footsteps vibrating the ground. Quickly, you stuffed whatever had been in your hands into your pockets and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Damn, kid, I ain’t gonna bite.” He held up his hands in surrender. “The hell ya doin out here?”

As always, you didn’t say anything. You looked back at the forest floor almost guiltily.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He frowned.

You knew you should tell him. He’d proven himself trustworthy after all. You just... you were scared you were wrong. That he’d be just like every other adult I. Your life.

“What’d ya have in yer hand before?” He tried, gesturing to whatever you’d stuffed in your pocket.

You tore your gaze away from him and reached down to pull out an object wrapped in cloth.

Daryl sat down beside you. “Can I see it?”

You held it a bit closer, brain still thinking in circles.

“I ain’t gonna break it or nothin’ if that’s what yer worried about.” He rolled his eyes.

Finally your mind was made. You set it down in his hands and waiting for his reaction.

Carefully, aware that you were watching his every movement, he unwrapped whatever it was.

He didn’t know what it was at first. It was almost as long as his smallest finger and was colored silver and tan. He realized what it was when he finally turned it over.

“Hearin’ aids?” He asked, turning to you.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “D-deaf.” You spoke, nerves at how he’d react making you stutter.

He jerked back a bit in surprise. “Ya been deaf this entire time?”

Another nervous nod.

“Damn, that’s impressive.” He gave you a sort of half grin. “How’d no one catch on? An’ why didn’t ya tell nobody?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a notebook, scribbling on a couple sentences. You showed him once you were done.

‘Lip reading. And I didn’t trust you.’

“But why didn’t ya talk like ya did now?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t ‘a known the difference.”

You wrote down more, hesitantly.

‘I’ve been told I sound stupid when I talk. So I don’t.’

You fiddled with your shoelace as he read.

“Who the hell told ya that?” He practically growled. “And why don’t ya know any ‘a that sign language?”

You took the notebook back and wrote down a few more sentences.

“And why don’t ya use the hearin’ aids?” He added.

You turned the book back to face him, only one word written.

‘Dad’

You felt ashamed to be admitting this. This wasn’t anything he needed to know. He would probably react the same way your dad reacted when he was given the opportunity.

“Hell no yer gonna explain more than that.” Daryl pushed the book back into your arms. “Can’t just half ass an answer.”

You sighed and began again.

‘He thought being deaf was a weakness. No sign language, no hearing aids, and no talking the moment my mom turned. He broke them when I broke the rules.’

You swallowed the emotions rising back up in the back of your throat.

He was a horrible man.

It was sickening, but you were almost glad that he was gone.

Daryl’s expression darkened when he read those words. “Sounds like an ass to me.” He handed the notebook back to you again. “So you tryin’ ya fix ‘em?”

You nodded and pulled out the batteries and wire, shrugging.

Daryl sighed. “Sorry, but that won’t be enough to fix these.” He examined the hearing aids once more. The wires were pulled apart and some of the plastic had snapped.

“... I know.” You managed to speak again, summoning your bravery. “Just wanted to try.”

Daryl’s expression didn’t change when you spoke. Maybe your dad was wrong. Maybe you didn’t sound as stupid as he told you you did.

Daryl handed the hearing aids back to you gently. “M’sorry kid.”

You shrugged again, placing them back in your pocket carefully.

Suddenly, Daryl had an idea. I’d require a run for sure but it’d be worth it. For now, he’d keep quiet about it. He didn’t even know if it’d work. But he might as well try.

——-

For the next few weeks on the road Daryl was on every run. You were curious about why but you dismissed it as him trying to make sure everyone would survive the coming winter.

By now, everyone knew you were deaf. They all reacted as Daryl had and treated you the same as they always did.

It was relieving to be honest. And a bit of a surprise. But the bigger surprise came later when Daryl told you he wanted to show everyone something in the woods.

You’d followed along, assuming he’d found more supplies.

Instead of revealing more supplies, he knelt down so he was at your level.

“I know it’s been hard without yer hearin’...” he started, reaching into his back pocket, “an’ I hope ya don’t mind I did this without askin’...” he pulled out an object wrapped in a familiar cloth.

You realized what was happening the moment you saw it.

“I gave it my best shot.” He pulled away the fabric and revealed the newly repaired hearing aids. “Found a book an’ some supplies on the last run.”

You hadn’t even realized tears were running down your face until they dropped onto your shirt.

Daryl reaches over and placed the hearing aids in your hands. “Give ‘em a try?”

You glanced at the faces of your new group. They must have known. Not a single one of them looked surprised. Just expectant and...happy. Happy for you.

Slowly, you tucked your hair out of your way. You set the small machine in place. You placed your hand over the on button tentatively.

The Hunter you’d grown attached to gave you a nod.

Finally, you pressed the button.

You waited and held your breath.

It was as if everything came crashing in at once.

The wind that rushed through the trees was giving out hollow rattling noises.

The birds above were chirping shrilly, each whistle harmoniously fitting together like a puzzle.

And you... you could hear yourself gasping in surprise as you spun in circles. You could hear the leaves crunching beneath your feet. Did that always happen?

“I’ll take it that it works?” Your thought were interrupted by a raspy southern accent.

You spun around, facing Daryl once more.

He stood back up, tip of his mouth tipped up in a half smile.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even thank him with your words.

So you thanked him the only way you knew how: with actions.

You wasted no time in running in his direction, more tearing spilling down your face as you wrapped your arms around the surprised man.

He returned the gesture after a moment of hesitation. “Wasn’t no problem.”

You buried you face in his shoulder, overcome with emotion. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

He rubbed your back comfortingly. “Was nothin’.”

You shook you head and hugged him harder. “No, it was everything.”

#crossbowkingwritingchallenge #for you #bookish #wattpad #fanfic #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd incorrect quotes #the walking dead #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader

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ssscentral · 4 years ago

Text

One More Time

Summary: Your touch was addictive, your scent intoxicating. He wants that back so badly, but he needs another chance. Just one more time.

pairing: Seokjin x female reader

rating: GA

genre: angst, mild fluff

warnings: pining, heartbreak, only mentions of sex, but everything very sfw

wc: 3k

member: Rid || @taegularities

a/n: Hello! Back with the second fic in the Bouquet Collab series. Each one of us chose a flower and wrote a fanfic around the meaning of it! These were just 2 out of 6, so please look forward to many more awesome stories! I also want to thank my amazing betas @biaswreckme and @missgeniality, and further @birbdae for this wonderful banner!!!! 💕 And now let’s dive into the angst!

A single ray of sunshine illuminates the room.

Conveniently, it shines directly onto that one particular plant that stands in this whole apartment, still healthy and green as it refuses to die. Seokjin is fond of it, given the fact that it was you who had gifted him it many weeks ago.

You always used to say that his place is gloomy, grey, in urgent need of redecoration, so he could actually invite someone over and make them feel somewhat homely. After he’d declined all your offers due to laziness, you’d given up - except for the little present that you’d brought him that one significant day.

He remembers it so vividly, the memory still so painfully clear.

At that time, spring was just approaching, birds returning and beautiful flowers blooming. You were a sucker for nature and all its aspects - which was probably the exact reason for the distaste that you felt whenever you entered your friend’s apartment. His way of handling his place was dull, tasteless.

So, when you decided to surprise him with the odd choice of giving him an aloe plant as decoration and present, you weren’t expecting more than a pleasant evening that you’d spend together.

What you didn’t know was that he’d been a nervous wreck for days now, ripping out several strands of his hair before he’d finally decided to tell you the truth about what he caged in his mind. But when he saw you that day, wearing this beautiful sunflower dress, your hair in a bun with only two strands framing your angelic face, words failed him immediately.

Instead, he froze, eyebrows furrowing in fear of what you’d say or do if he confessed to you. And it didn’t take a lot from your side, no - one brush of your finger along his arm, an intense and loving gaze addressing only him, and a beautiful, mesmerizing smile were enough for him to snap before he pulled you in.

When you first felt his full lips on yours, you stared at the way his eyes closed, relishing in and welcoming the moment right away. You needed a second to comprehend what was happening, but once you understood, you felt yourself give in fast, the world becoming blurred and silent.

All you heard were the sweet words he uttered, all you saw was his glistening skin, and all you knew was that you wanted to bathe in this euphoria forever without ever having to let go.

But when you both found yourselves in each other’s arms, covered by nothing but his blanket, you still hadn’t addressed why this had happened and what it meant for you now.

Seokjin didn’t regret this - how could he, if it was with you? But the same old insecurity that plagued his heart and made his chest burn had eventually come back now. Despite having no real evidence or reason, he assumed that you didn’t want what he wanted - you’d never see him as more than a friend that you’d slept with in the heat of the moment.

In that sense, you’d woken up to a pressing awkwardness, him offering breakfast and coffee, but portraying distant nonchalance otherwise. And when you felt like none of this was going to go anywhere, you told him you had to go, finding some kind of excuse to leave.

Since then, an uncomfortable radio silence had found its way between you, and the only thing he had these days to remember you was the pink-orange flower that slowly bloomed on top of his desk.

Lying across the bed, Seokjin opens his eyes with a smile on his face, remembering how he’d looked at you in confusion when he’d first seen you standing at the threshold of his entry, smiling wide with Ally in your hands. Yes, you’d named the plant Ally - always one to give non-living things names.

Wrong.

Ally is very much alive. You’d made that clear that day. Plants take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen - yes, that’s what you’d lectured him with when he’d joked around. His apartment needs some freshness, you’d told him.

Now that he’s inhaling the air around him, it almost feels like he can smell Ally, which is total nonsense of course. He has honestly grown to love this small, spiky thing, especially after finding out the meaning behind it.

Affection.

Something he has felt for a long time now. Affection for the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed. Affection for the concentrated gaze you adopt when you’re reading a good book. Affection for your words, for the sound of your voice; he loves the sweet, honey-coated, soft tone that he swims in every time you speak.

Seokjin gets up, stretching his limbs and getting dressed when he looks at the clock, noticing that it’s time to go. There’s this boring gathering this evening, organized by some of your colleagues who thought it might be a good idea to come together and strengthen your bond as a student body or whatever.

The only reason he’s going is because he knows you’ll be there. He doesn’t care about getting himself drunk or talking about philosophical theories today - all he wants is to make right what he ruined back then. He just needs to tell you what words float inside his heart, hoping for you to reciprocate his feelings the way you’d responded to his kiss that night.

Gathering all this ardor for you, with only your name on his tongue, he closes his door behind him, summoning all the energy his body can deliver.

You’re easy to find in the small crowd. The room isn’t too filled, the atmosphere peaceful and pleasant when he steps in, running his hand through his soft, brown hair when he sees you. Breathing in and out in a steady rhythm, he approaches you, trying to mask his eagerness, hands pocketed to exude a relaxed demeanor.

When you finally notice the tall figure come closer, recognizing him as none other than the man you’re so in love with, your heart beats just a little faster and you tilt your head in wonder. After barely sparing you a glance in your classes, he has apparently finally decided to give you some attention.

Memories come crashing back; images of your last encounter flooding your mind as you press your tinted lips together, still feeling the phantom touch of his mouth on yours. He still looks the same, but his hair has gotten a little longer, almost covering his eyes entirely before he brushes the bangs away.

“Hey,” he greets, breathing in deep as he sits down in front of you, “long time no talk.”

You nearly counter with a sarcastic remark, but then contain yourself, only shooting him a breathtaking smile. “You’re right. Busy lives. How have you been doing, Jin?”

“Good!” he answers way too fast, clearing his voice before he continues. “I’m doing good. And you?”

“All good. Been writing some more lately.”

Seokjin nods as his eyes widen and his mouth forms an ‘O’, glad to hear that you’ve picked up your hobby of creating beautiful poetry again. He’s even read some of your poems, and you’re truly talented, working around words so easily as if they were his own heart.

“Oh, wow! I- um… I took care of Ally. Do you remember her?” he stumbles over his words, ears growing increasingly red. He’s such a dork and you can’t help but smile a little.

“That’s nice to hear. I bought one of these myself a few days ago. Reminded me of you.”

“That’s great! T-that’s…” What is he trying to say? There must be something that he had prepared, but for the life of his, he can’t remember anymore. All he knows at the sight of you is that he wants to grab you by your waist again, pull you in to press you against him. He wants to feel your lips, move against them in soft, then needy motions.

He just wants you as a whole, if not forever, then once.

Just one more time.

And when he sees you wait for him to speak, fumbling with your fingers with your eyes far away from his, he whispers the word “courage” to himself once before his hand reaches out to grab yours and settle on your palm.

Your gaze shifts to him immediately, his abrupt action causing confusion in you as your heart rate spikes up. But when you see the expression on his face, you feel like you know.

“Y/N, I- we… we need to talk,” he finally declares, his thumb gently ghosting over the skin of your hand, such a simple gesture sending shivers down your spine.

Yes, he doesn’t have to say much. You know what he wants to talk about; after all, there aren’t that many possibilities of what he could want at your first encounter after being somewhat estranged all this time.

“I’m not sure I want-”

“No, please,” he interrupts, squeezing your hand tighter in his. A few weeks ago, his warmth would’ve felt like a safe haven for you, pulling you out from the dark grounds of an ocean if it needed to - but right now, you feel like you’re drowning, like you’re sinking instead of swimming up. “There’s so much I’ve been wanting to tell you and there were so little opportunities to do so.”

Half-fearing, half-anticipating what he’s going to say, you search for the walls you’ve managed to pull up, accepting that Seokjin will never want you in that way. You think you’ve moved on, but now that he’s so close, on the brink of either confessing or rejecting you, you feel tense - and both options aren’t ideal for you right now.

You wait until he’s ready to talk, watch his chest rise and then fall, his eyes meeting yours, but looking like they’d rather not before-

“I’m in love with you,” he finally breathes - and as he mutters his last word, the air around you becomes suffocating, the sounds muffled and his touch heavy.

Is that better than being rejected? You don’t know. You really do not know; and the shake of your head and furrow of your eyebrows show him that something is plaguing you that he might not want to hear.

“Y/N.” His tone is calm, steady, different from your hazardous heart that’s breaking right in front of him, and he doesn’t even see it.

“Why did you not tell me that back then, Jin?” you inquire, pulling your hand away and settling it on your lap. “We slept together. Why did you let me go?”

This… this is awkward. It’s ridiculous. Seokjin shouldn’t have decided to talk about this in a crowd, surrounded by people who know nothing about what’s going on between you two. But now that he did, his heart sinks, his mind in a painful fog, and he puffs out some air, calming himself.

“Let’s leave,” he suddenly suggests, and you think you can see the faintest glint of panic in his dark eyes, “clear it out somewhere else. At my place?”

Again, you shake your head, chuckling lightly but not decently. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. There’s someone…”

Jin is quick to cut you once again, his breathing suddenly erratic. He’s been in love with you for years - no, he can’t take the thought of you having a boyfriend now, choosing someone over him. “Someone else? This fast? Y/N, why did I never-”

He stops mid-sentence, and it happens just timely as you were going to hold out a hand to silence him anyway.

“Jin. Listen,” you start, leaning in closer, “there’s someone who offered to guide me through a scholarship. Not here - in a different city. And as much as I’ve always wanted you, I can’t do long-distance relationships.”

Your words ease the pain inside him, his mind suddenly relaxing as he takes in your confession. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. Is all of this real?

“Where- where are you going?”

“It’s too far away. I wouldn’t see you more than a handful of times a year. I can’t do this,” you admit, your eyes stinging as you swallow the lump in your throat.

You see him tilt his head with a sigh, and you’re on the verge of breaking when you see his mouth twitch, that familiar movement that mostly means despair. This always happens when his grades are worse than he expects. It happens when he talks to his little brother who lives miles away. Mostly, you see it when you watch - or used to watch - movies together, especially Pixar and Ghibli ones tearing him up in no time.

And now, it’s happening because of you.

“Is there no way for you to stay?”

You bite your lip, chewing on it until you taste your lipstick. “I don’t think so. And it’s… a big chance for me.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches and he nods, relief turning into sorrow as his expression shows understanding on the surface while his blood is boiling with pain on the inside. He’s angry with himself - he truly is. But he’s also sad about the fact that you never approached him.

And while waiting for the other in silence, phones in your hands, but the courage to message each other so far away, you missed it. You both missed it and he hates it.

“Then I hope you’ll get everything you want, Y/N,” he finally says, standing up as he grabs his thin jacket. It’s probably not that fresh outside yet, he can carry it - maybe hide his fumbling hands that clearly show his nervosity and distaste to this whole situation.

All he can think of is to get away before he breaks.

Yet, he comes closer to you, hovering above you before he leans down. Not caring about your surroundings, only seeing you, his heart only beating for you, he presses his lips onto your forehead first, wanders to your nose, both your cheeks and your earlobes as he says in between each kiss, “whenever… you decide… to come back… I’ll be here…”

Then, he cups your face, looking at your beautiful, full lips, missing how they feel on his before he kisses you gently. His mouth moves delicately, sweetly against yours, bittersweet memories and feelings streaming back as you internally forbid yourself to cry.

“Waiting for you,” he finally whispers, lips brushing yours, and every fiber in you tries hard to hold back. To not pull him into another room, kiss him more fiercely and bring back the fervent heat that you’d indulged in the last time.

His thumb brushes your cheeks softly, his eyes registering you gulping hard as he says his goodbyes, so he can leave. There’s just no way he can stay here any longer. “Don’t cry. I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

And then, his warmth is gone.

Fighting the urge to follow him, you watch him walk away, mind going crazy as you see him face the ground. You can’t falter. You need to focus on your studies before anything else - you don’t want to regret your choices; and if what he says holds true, you might just be able to wrap him into you forever when you come back in a year or two.

Maybe it’s not over yet.

The sun has set by the time Seokjin arrives home. All the sunshine from today morning has vanished, warming someone else, somewhere else now, leaving him in the dark as he lets himself fall on his bed.

An absolute disaster, all of this. And what an idiot he is. Why did he not insist on inviting you over? Ask you if there was any way you’d spend this one last night with him? The lingering feelings of your soft lips strengthen his despair tenfold, and he hates himself for not fighting for a night or a day with you. After all, you’re not going away just yet.

But deep down he knows why he did what he did: being together again would just hurt you both further, the small flame that both of your pain is becoming a searing wildfire. At least he knows for sure that this is what would happen to him. He knows it’d be near impossible to let you go if he woke up beside you.

What if Seokjin searches for scholarships, too? Your grades are similar - if you can get one, why not him? The picture of having you around, falling asleep next to you, studying together and bantering over food and movies - it’s so intriguing that he knows what he’ll search up tomorrow.

Then again, you have your people; he doesn’t know anyone who can guide him through this, give him a fast opportunity to study somewhere else, be near you.

He doesn’t know. Not how to get you back, not how to feel you again; his brain comes up with nothing helpful, no plan he can actually execute successfully.

Slipping out of his pants, he lingers at the corner of the bed, his arms leaning on his thighs as his fingers tangle between them. Seokjin shakes his head as he physically feels his heart break, each broken piece fighting the other and torturing him, no matter how much he tells them to calm down.

And despite not knowing what to do, what to feel, how to erase the image of you and your face from his mind for the time being, he remembers something else.

When he’d looked for the meaning of the aloe plant, he had found many sources, some beautiful descriptions, and some poetic definitions that connected it to an emotional feeling. While the flower holds the meaning of affection, the memory of another word comes flooding in, ironic to the fact that aloe is supposed to heal, used to mend injuries and pain.

And thinking of this particular word, all he does know at this agonizing moment is that he identifies with your plant’s meaning.

He knows that all he feels is grief.

If you enjoyed the fic, consider liking, reblogging or sending an ask! We love to hear from you! 💕

#seokjin angst #bts fanfics #bts fic #bts imagine #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin #jin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #bts angst #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #blackswannet #ssscentral #taegularities #bouquetcollab #seokjin fanfic

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astaroth1357 · 5 years ago

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Demon Brothers First Dates!

The fluff levels are reaching new heights… I might have to write some angst pretty soon to reset my palette. Get any more saccharine and I’m going to end up writing Sunday school specials... 🙄 If anyone has any darker suggestions, hit me up.

Check out the Masterlist for more!

Lucifer

Wanna bet that he’s going to shower them luxury for the evening? The Avatar of Pride doesn’t settle for anything less than utterly obliterating what his competition could offer.

Spending money like Mammon if he won the lottery. Usually he’d be less flippant about price tags, but he needs to seem like he’s on top of the world tonight. His ego’s on the line after all.

Not above asking the MC if there’s any place in the world, Devildom or human, they’d like to see and just taking them there. No objections accepted. You want go to Paris? Then we dine in Paris, get your coat.

Gifts. Gifts. Gifts gifts gifts. Nice ones. Very shiny. Big gifts make them feel special and remind them of him when they see/use them. Better get that subliminal messaging started ASAP. They are his.

Engaging dining conversation, but may bring up work/Diavolo/or the Devildom more often than not. Man just can’t stop thinking like he’s on the job sometimes...

All the brothers would kill to know what happened/what was said but he forbids them from saying anything about it. The night can stay just between them.

Mammon

It is going to go wrong. Somehow, in some way, it will blow up in his face spectacularly. But this is still Mammon we’re talking about so it’s probably going to be a fun ride regardless.

Go to the casino, lose everything, and run like hell from angry employees after causing a scene? That’s on the table. Trying to have a romantic night, getting crashed by some XYZ person who he owes money to, then going through shenanigans to try and avoid them? Equally likely. Things just not working properly to catastrophic levels? Like it’s etched into fate itself.

No matter what trouble follows this boy everywhere. You ride with him, you ought to be down for that. But if chaos is the MC’s domain or they just like to collect funny stories, it will probably be a great time! At least in hindsight, anyway.

He’s not particularly romantic, but will be generally up for doing right about anything that the MC wants to do within reason (of course, he’s a pushover too). He probably doesn’t have a plan before they go and may just wing it based on how they’re feeling and what’s available.

Considering there is no way the date will end in the same state it started, though, maybe no plan is the best plan. Just enjoy the ride.

Leviathan

Honestly lowkey thought that all those times they would play games together/watch marathons were dates so oof. Poor boy doesn’t even know how behind he is.

Once he’s aware that no, Mario Kart does not qualify as a date night, he will try to think of things that do but mostly still in or around the House.

He might suggest the kind of cheesy things he’s picked up from his mangas/dating games. He'll try them earnestly so it would still be a sweet time.

It’s going to take some insane “Love-Sex-Magic” to actually get this guy to plan a date that goes outside of his comfort zone (i.e. in the real world). He must be either head over heels or one of his brothers challenged him to pull it off. No matter what, it’s not going to be his first choice.

If he had to think of something, it would somehow be water-based because that’s the only other thing he’s going to cling to when he can’t be in his safe space.

A beach date would actually be perfect for him. He could show off his swimming skills, make a sand suclpture with them, and introduce them to Lotan! He won’t bite, er... as long as he’s around? Probably?

Satan

Want some old-fashioned romance? This is your guy. Satan sees love like it’s out of a romance novel so make of that what you will.

Ever polite and downright princely at times. You’d never know that he was the Avatar of Wrath until things just stop going to plan or some poor waiter tries to sass him...

The kind of guy to go for dates to an art gallery or an out-of-the-way coffee shop. Some place quiet where the main focus is on conversation or intellectual discussion. But, oh, he doesn’t just want to talk. He wants to learn and the subject is MC.

Won’t settle for small talk but isn’t looking for a life’s story either. He wants thoughts, opinions, and knowledge. What do they think of the Devildom? His brothers? How do things there compare to the human world? What’s it like there? Etc., etc.

If there is anything that they’re particularly skilled/knowledgeable in then he wants to know all about it. Lowkey sapiosexual vibes. Smarts are a turn on.

Would honestly be okay going to almost anywhere as long as he’s with them and can enjoy their conversation. Expect traditional romantic elements like flowers and candles, but really it’s the mind he’s after.

Asmodeus

He wants to Show. Them. Off! If they’re on a date then the world has to hear about it. He just thinks they’re that amazing!

Need help getting dressed for the occasion? He’s got them covered! He doesn’t see any issue in couples shopping, dressing, makeup… other things...

Yeah, they better keep a leash on this one or they may miss a reservation or three.

Knows all the best places in the Devildom like the back of his hand. Want to go dancing? He’s a regular at all the clubs. Want good drinks? He knows five places for that already. Great food? Babe, he’s second only to Beel in that department too!

Will spend the whole evening being very attentive and making sure they’re comfortable and having fun. The man loves seeing smiles, especially the ones he causes!

Okay. We all know where he ideally would like the date to end *cough*the bedroom*cough* but won’t pressure the matter… any more than usual. But oh would he be happy if it got there. And he’d make sure they’re happy too. 😏

Beelzebub

They’re going to eat and they’re going to eat WELL.

We’re talking a spread fit for royalty because he would totally ask Diavolo if he could borrow Barbatos for the evening. Food from the best chef in the Devildom and time alone with the MC for a night? Talk about a spot of heaven in literal Hell!

Of course, his thoughts aren’t only on his own stomach. He genuinely wants them to have a good time too.

Will probably take them to their favorite places in the Devildom or any places where they share good memories together. He wants to remind them of just how happy they make him as much as possible.

A lot of closeness the whole night: hand holding, hugs, and cuddles. It’s not for any possessive or territorial reason, he just likes having them close in that comforting sort of way.

He’s not exactly a deep conversationalist, but he’ll make up for it in actions and just the amount of heart he puts in the few things he says. Oh, he’s one of the best listeners on the planet though so the night doesn’t have to be quiet on their end.

Belphegor

You’d think he’d be too lazy to plan a date but not so. It actually takes a lot of planning to find a way to completely ditch his brothers without any of them knowing/finding out. Even Beel has to be out of the loop.

Wherever they’re going, he wants it to be just the two of them and stay that way. It’d take just one run in with Mammon or Asmo for them to gain a tag along that Just. Won’t. Leave.

Like Satan, he prefers quieter places but that’s just because he hates being in noisy environments. He’ll go for places that may not have a lot going on, but are visually quite stunning like the botanical gardens or rooftop views.

Expect a picnic, maybe a little stargazing. He probably already knows some pretty peaceful places in the Devildom that he uses just to get some space from his brothers.

If he’s going to sleep during the date, he’ll either make sure it’s okay first or it will be an honest accident. He won’t just pass out on them to be a troll for once.

Maaay try to get them to take a nap with him. Straight up sleeping might be considered an odd date activity, but really it’s an excuse to hold them as close as he wants with no interruptions. Be careful, or he might hold them there all night.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #the fluff is reaching critical mass

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aitarose · 4 years ago

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FROZEN MEMORIES (T. OIKAWA) pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

synopsis: tooru always spoke a million words a minute, a million words describing his everlasting love for y/n—but in reality, vows can’t always be kept, and photographs are all that stand forever.

word count: 7.0k

genre: fluff, angst, getting together, established relationship, time skip

warnings: major character death, slight ghost au

notes: lina and i were talking about planes one time on facetime and now this exists. :) writing about weddings is fun and i hope that this makes people sad—but like the good kind of sad <3

↳ DIRECTORY

It was a simple thing, the diamond that rested on her finger.

Small, delicate, and nothing like the extravagant stigma of Oikawa Tooru. Nothing like his vibrance and charisma or the tenacity racing through his veins while on the court. There were no sprinkles of the unnecessary, no remnants of borrowed money.

Just simplicity and minimalism. A bare show of his love for her, a showcase that would be blind to the wandering eye, it was so small. The ring was all of the things that had little, if any, relation to his personality.

Throughout the timeline of them knowing one another, Y/N always knew he’d propose. Whether that was when they were in their mid thirties, twenties, or even while in high school—their love was that strong.

And she knew him best. She knew that he wouldn’t present a jewel the size of a bumblebee, or one with gems surrounding the entirety of the band. In her mind, the only option would be the bare band with a single jewel laying atop its center.

The same band that had belonged to his grandmother, mother, and now her.

It wasn’t a statement piece or trophy, but rather a reminder that their relationship didn’t have to be complicated or flashy. That the ring had surpassed generations of instability and trouble, and at the end of the day, all that mattered was their love—their love that was truly unbreakable.

Which was why it was all the more special to Y/N, why she cherished it more than any other belonging. It reminded her of him.

When he’d gotten down on one knee, professed his dreams of sharing the rest of his life by her side, the enjoyment of announcing that she would be the wife of a professional athlete never crossed her mind.

Y/N didn’t view Oikawa as a celebrity or idol. She didn’t consider him to be on another level or above her status for any reason. In no world was he too good for her, as they were perfect for each other.

There was just something about him, a force that pulled her towards him no matter how hard she tried to resist. He was undoubtedly the other half of her spirit, the person she was always meant to connect with.

Her heart swelled whenever he was around, just knowing that he was in the same building, waiting for her at the end of the flower-filled aisle had tears dripping down her rose-colored cheeks.

She could imagine the smile on his face, the one she’d been waiting to see for over a year now. The smile that she saw when she closed her eyes, looked into her reflection, passed a shining pond.

Ambition was her most dominant personality trait, always feeling the need to reach for the sky and set new goals—but once she’d kissed his lips, she knew that he was the only goal that mattered.

And the two of them had been preparing for this day for what felt like forever, waiting in anticipation for the moment they’d be pronounced as one. However, their wishes had been interrupted by his newly honored position on the Argentinian team.

They had a month, barely thirty days to pack up his life, everything he could possibly need for an unknown amount of time, and find peace with the fact that they wouldn’t be together for every second like they’d become accustomed to.

Driving him to the airport had to be one of the most tear-filled days of Y/N’s life, other than today of course—but today’s tears were much different in every sense and form.

She could remember the exact look on his face as they’d left the car, carried his luggage to the terminal, and said their goodbyes. Goodbyes that were, of course, temporary as no distance could ever break the bond they had.

The photo laying between Y/N’s fingers had captured that moment perfectly.

Somber looks on both of their faces, yearning for the other even though they were a mere distance away, a distance that was growing with every second the clock counted down.

Laughing lightly, maneuvering her position so her reminiscent tears wouldn’t stain the slightly marred photograph—she pushed the memory aside, instead choosing to recall an earlier one. A happier one.

A memory that was encased within the maple box that Oikawa had gifted her at the terminal. A present that he’d been putting together for nearly a decade, throughout the entirety of their early relationship.

So, while the airplane had taken him thousands of miles away, over an entire ocean and away from her—Y/N had a way to see his face. His beautiful and loving face for the times where he couldn’t answer the phone or pick up a call.

A photo box. One filled with polaroids and snapshots of moments, cherished memories of their lives that had led up to today’s date. It was her most prized possession, the story of her and Oikawa.

The story of their love.

“Are you alright?” Y/N giggled, pushing the loose strands of hair away from Oikawa’s face. The wind was rapid, carrying them throughout the nearly empty park, and to their destination.

It was a small picnic blanket, one that he’d set up an hour earlier, laying in the center of the field, underneath one of the blossoming cherry trees. Albeit, with the roaring currents, their date spot had flown a few feet into the air.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, ‘Kawa.” She repeated, amused at the sight of his mortified face. There was never a time where Oikawa Tooru didn’t strive for perfection, and in the moment where he felt it mattered most, everything had gone wrong.

He’d been preparing to ask Y/N out for weeks. Always admiring her from afar, searching for her in the stands, smiling at her cheers and words of encouragement. Calling her a crush was beyond his feelings, she was simply his.

So he felt that their first date had to be perfect. It had to leave her hooked, left at the corner of a page, addicted and invested to turn the next—to turn every page in the chapters of their story.

Their story, that was just beginning.

“I’m fantastic, Y/N-chan!” A large, teeth baring smile grew on his lips, eyes wide with anxiety radiating out of them. He didn’t think he’d ever felt his heart beat so fast, the artery on the verge of jumping out of his chest.

“Really?” She asked with her brows raised, noticing how the blood had rushed out of his face, leaving behind a stone-cold canvas of skin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost—no. You look like you are a ghost.”

“It’s okay. I’m nervous, too.” Y/N confessed, taking his hands in hers, her warmth overshadowing the clamminess of his palms—her touch being his salvation. “This is my first time being asked out, you know. I mean, we are only first years.”

Which was entirely true. They’d each moved from their respective middle schools to Aoba Johsai, not knowing of the other’s existence until Oikawa had accidentally tripped over her school bag while on the run from his fangirls.

From that moment on, he’d been completely and utterly enamored by her.

Enamored in the way that his cheeks would flush bright red at any moment of embarrassment if Y/N was around. Bright red, just as they were now, with her heart in his grasp, begging to be loved.

As he opened his mouth to speak, scripting his genuine apology for the chaos that was today, something flew right by his right eye. Something small, yellow and black—something that truly pushed him over the edge.

Oikawa ran in a dead sprint, circling the blanket, darting between trees as the innocent bumblebee chased him with glee. His shrieks were ear-piercing, inducing hysterical laughing fits from Y/N, tears brimming the corners of her eyes.

The sternness of his posture had finally relaxed, his placid expression long gone and replaced with one of the over-dramatics and the unnecessary. She felt as though the blood rushing through her veins had settled, content with the familiarity of the Oikawa in front of her.

“Protect me, Y/N-chan!” He cried out, his hands holding her shoulders with a death-grip, using her body as a shield from the barely visible bee. It buzzed around their heads in circles, causing him to duck and cover each time it got too close to his ears.

Y/N was practically out of breath, her voice hoarse from the amount of laughter leaving her throat. “Oikawa! Are you even allergic to bees?” She wondered out loud, trying to find any acceptable reason other than insanity to his reaction.

“I don’t know!” He exclaimed, taking Y/N’s hand and pulling her away from their stray picnic blanket, and towards the more dense sector of trees. “Three percent of people have a reaction, and there’s no way I’m not in the top percentage—I mean look at me!”

His skin was stained red, nearing the color of blood from how much adrenaline he’d been using. The brown in his pupils dark, almost black, large, and staring straight into Y/N’s.

Heavy breathing came from the both of them, energy on the rocks, exhausted after their marathon throughout the park. It was a strange moment, one with no words yet their feelings were communicative. She didn’t need to hear what he was thinking, as she felt the exact same.

Oikawa began to lean in, his gaze focused on Y/N—his focus staying on her and only her, just as it would always be. Closing her eyes, preparing herself for her very first kiss with the boy that seemed unreachable, Y/N was left with no love on her lips.

Nothing but the sound of a shot snapping from a polaroid camera, and the feeling of a smile pressed against her cheek.

As her vision opened, Y/N’s jaw dropped, smacking his arm with the picnic bag that had been thrown over her shoulder. Sure, she’d noticed him packing the camera earlier, but hadn’t expected him to actually use it.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, amusement laced in her tone. Of course he’d pull something like that. He’d do anything to make the moment more memorable. “I can’t believe you, Oikawa.”

He grinned a shit-eating grin, forehead touching hers. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve walked out, left him behind after such a sporadic and awful first date—but she actually enjoyed the chaos. She enjoyed being with the real him.

“Well, you better believe it, Y/N-chan.” His lips were so close, a mere centimeter away. Only a centimeter between them and, still, the distance seemed too far. “And when I do kiss you, I expect to be called by my real name.”

Oikawa pulled away, saying a final wish before stalking off towards the remnants of their picnic, leaving Y/N with nothing but withdrawal and their single photograph. She rolled her eyes at him, his words racing through her head as she fell in love with the frozen memory.

Call me Tooru.

Y/N’s heart swelled as her senses picked up on the harsh sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor. It was a noise that would likely drive a normal person away, so wretched and foul, absolute agony for the ears—but she loved it.

She loved it since along with that sound, came him—came Oikawa.

“You two really can’t stay away from each other, can you?” Mattsun groaned, his attention brought to the entrance, bemused by the sight of Y/N and used to her inability to be without his friend for longer than two hours.

Despite the roll of his eyes, there was a light smile on Mattsun’s face. A smile that had been replicated throughout the entirety of the team, grins awaiting their captain to notice the company of his favorite cheerleader.

In the beginning of their relationship, it’d taken the boys a few weeks turned months to warm up to Y/N. It was no secret that Oikawa was a bit of a player, never settling on one girl, always getting distracted with the next best thing—but even they could see that this time, it was different.

After all, they’d lasted for a little over two years now—and in those two years of total bliss, the whole team had picked up on the new positives to the setter’s daily attitude.

Makki noticed the way Oikawa’s eyes lit up around her, how his laugh was ten times louder whenever she was by his side. Mattsun never failed to comment on the stupid beams he’d wear, and how much effort he’d put into his appearance when he was only getting ready for a five minute video call.

And Iwaizumi was the one who’d seen it all. He’d endured the tireless hours in which his best friend would talk about how nervous he was to see her in the hallways or how fast his heart would beat whenever she’d hand him a pen or compliment his gameplay.

He’d been the first person to know exactly what had happened after Oikawa asked her on their first date, in which he’d been trampled by fangirls and forced to steal Y/N away into an empty janitor’s closet to get just a minute of privacy. His friend later bouncing with joy on their walk back home, babbling on and on about her accepting his confession.

The very second the setter had said his goodbye, dropped Y/N off at her home, and had one last laugh about the bee incident; Iwaizumi’s phone had blown up with text messages and voicemails—all filled with the lovestruck adoration that Oikawa held for his new flame. The flame that he hoped would burn forever.

It was safe to say that his friends loved her, that they loved them together and the safety net that was their relationship. Y/N brought the dreamer down to earth, while Oikawa taught her how to reach the sky—showed her the importance of keeping her eyes on the clouds.

Iwaizumi shook his head, letting out a low laugh as his best friend caught sight of his girlfriend and took off running in her direction, tackling her to the ground, and completely forgetting about the abandoned volleyball that he’d been juggling altogether.

PDA was not an issue for Oikawa, never even crossing his mind as he peppered light kisses in circles around Y/N’s face. The girl was bright red beneath him, loudly giggling, and essentially forgetting where she was for a moment—distracted by him, the only person that could ever maintain her attention.

“Pack it up, Loser-kawa.” Makki called out, hands cupping his lips in an attempt to shout out over the sounds of Y/N’s squeals. Her head snapped over to the team at the sound of his calls, cheeks flushing a further scarlet in embarrassment amidst their eye contact.

Oikawa, on the other hand, showed no signs of stopping—completely ignoring the complaints of his teammates, throwing Y/N over his shoulder, and carrying her with ease towards their peers.

“Oh, come on guys.” He smirked as he set his girlfriend down and proceeded to sling an arm around her frame, snuggling her closer to his chest. “There’s no need to be jealous, I’m sure she’ll cheer for you, too—albeit, it won’t ever be as loud as she cheers for me.”

Countless volleyballs came flying in their direction, all aimed for the so-called Great King—narrowly missing Y/N’s body and hitting their target that was Oikawa’s face.

“Quit wasting our time, Shitty-kawa!” Mattsun shot another ball, smacking his captain straight in the forehead. “You two have been in each other’s business all day, save some time for us!”

“Just take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

Y/N laughed, finding the suggestion hilarious—not noticing how her boyfriend’s face lit up with delight. How he reached for the duffel bag beside the door containing their beloved polaroid camera.

“You suggested it, Mattsun!” He tossed the device, landing it perfectly in his friend’s open hands. The brown hair boy stared at the offering, not exactly sure what he’d been expecting from Oikawa of all people. “Now you’ve got to follow through!”

The setter led Y/N towards the net, placing her in front of him with a large smile on his face. His palms ghosted her’s, so close to touching with no intentions of doing so.

As the camera was about to click, he moved, a large groan escaping his throat. “Hold on!” Oikawa shouted, waving his hands in the air manically, sprinting to his practice bag. “Almost forgot something!”

The white material of his Seijoh jacket reflected underneath the fluorescent lights. He held it up with glee, returning to Y/N’s side and placing it over her shoulders with care.

Nearly prepared for the photoshoot, he felt that one thing was missing. One thing that would truly commemorate the oh-so-momentous event that was photo-worthy.

“Oi, Iwa-chan!” The ace glared at his best friend, knowing exactly what he was asking for. With a roll of his eyes, Iwaizumi found himself between the couple, a frown on his face as they held up bunny ears above his head.

Sticking his tongue out, Oikawa was blinded by the piercing flash of the camera. “Say cheese!” He called out, pinching Iwaizumi’s cheek with his free hand and cowering as he shot him a murderous glance in return.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her expression being light and carefree in the frozen moment—lost amidst her love for her boyfriend and the adoration she held for their best friend.

Iwaizumi was always there for them—and there’d never be a time in which he wasn’t. Through hardships and breathless arguments, he was there. One phone call away to listen to any tangent or complaint from either of the two.

She knew that he was reliable, and she hoped that he’d stick by their side. She hoped that he’d be the one to walk her down that flower-filled aisle in the future. That he’d be the person to give her off to the man of her dreams.

And, little did she know, her wish would come true.

Soft hums and silent promises wafted throughout Oikawa Tooru’s bedroom. The gentle snores of his girlfriend rising and falling against his chest, pressed atop his heartbeat, filling his love for her as if his heart was a pitcher.

It’d been a long day, one full of the tiresome stress of tournaments. Although he hated to admit it, he’d spent a majority of the past hours crying—his tears staining Y/N’s sweater, dampening the cotton fabric.

Losing to Karasuno had never even crossed his mind. Seijoh was the best of the best, he was the best of the best, that was what he’d told himself. That was what’d motivated him to continue to pursue his dreams of beating Ushiwaka for so many years.

But they’d lost. His unstoppable team had lost to complete amateurs, infants in all senses of strategy and gameplay when compared to that of his own team’s. It was truly unbelievable—so unbelievable that Oikawa had only come to terms with it minutes ago.

He’d unknowingly played his last high school game. His final game as captain, the leader of his teammates, the face that every admirer associated with the name “Aoba Johsai”—and that was heartbreaking.

Mindlessly, his fingers graced Y/N’s back, tracing positions and numbers on repeat. It was as if his brain was still stuck on the court, glued to the placement he’d fallen in after that last whistle had blown.

“I love you.” He whispered, admiring her peaceful expression. There’d never be a time in which Oikawa wouldn’t think she was the most beautiful sight in the world. Nothing compared to her, not even the thrill of feeling the ball in his hands.

“You’re perfect, amazing, gorgeous.” An ongoing stream of compliments poured from his lips, all of them always sitting at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released. His brown eyes bored into her closed lids, waiting for them to flutter open, knowing that she was eavesdropping on his one-sided conversation.

“I can’t wait to marry you one day.”

Her eye popped open, her iris meeting his as she fought off a smirk. Oikawa laughed at her audacity, her listening in on his professions of love whilst pretending to be asleep—a very Y/N thing to do.

“Was that a proposal I heard, Tooru?” She teased, a cheshire smile growing on her face. Though she was joking, there was a part of her that felt ecstatic. Excited for the future, their future. “Aren’t we a little young for that?”

Oikawa ignored her humorous tone, choosing to take her words seriously. Sincerity overtook his features, determination shining in his eyes. “No, that wasn’t a proposal. Not yet at least.”

“But it was a promise.” He rolled over, arms stretched out onto the mattress as he held his weight above his flushed girlfriend. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

“I promise.”

Y/N reached upwards, caressing his cheek with care, pulling him down towards her frame. As she connected their lips, love flooded from their hearts. Pure love that they were so lucky to have found in each other.

Their kiss was passionate, fluid and desperate as they clung to one another in an attempt to get even closer than they already were. Oikawa’s hair brushed against her forehead, tickling her nerves amidst the act.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, pressing further as her swollen lips were chapped and yearning for more. It was as if he was the water to her drought, the sun to her flowers, the missing half of her soul—he was everything she ever needed, everything she could ever want.

“I love you, Tooru.” Y/N was breathless, heaving gusts of air as she composed herself between his arms. Her skin was shaded pink, hair a mess, and eyes wide in adoration for her boyfriend. “I’ll love you forever.”

A scoff fell from his lips whilst he relaxed his muscles, laying down on her body, his head against her chest as he felt her short breaths rise and fall. “Don’t get your head too high in the clouds, beautiful.”

“We can focus on forever later.” With his heartbeat slowing, sleep on his mind, Oikawa wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Let’s just think about now—right now, and how amazing I just made you feel.”

“They don’t call me the Great King for nothing!”

With a groan, Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her, choosing to sleep on her side instead of listening to his boasting. It was a common occurrence, one that she was used to and knew how to handle—feigned disinterest was always her favorite route to take.

Oikawa pouted at the emptiness he now faced without being in her arms. He wanted attention, and the only way to get her attention was to distract her from his terrible humor in the only way he knew how.

Various pokes and prods scattered across Y/N’s backside, the relentless actions being from the needy narcissist she was sharing a blanket with. Pulling the covers over her head, she peeked out from underneath, coming face-to-face with the bright flash of his camera.

“Smile for the camera, beautiful.”

The terminal was bustling with people, luggage rolling across the stone floors and towards their rightful places. Color was void on the walls, simple tones of grey and blue plastered opposite to the towering window panes.

Reunions between young children and their mothers, spouses who’d just arrived home from business trips, and pilots seeing their coworkers for the first time in days occurred in spurts—smiles of joy expressed on their faces.

And in contrast to that joy, was Y/N and her smile of sadness.

Though she’d been expecting for this day for weeks, she knew that all the preparation in the world would never be enough to suffice the need that she had for him. The need that she had for Oikawa.

He’d been offered a position on San Juan’s professional team, his dream position as a setter for the big leagues, which meant that the move was inevitable. It meant that he’d be thousands of miles away from the love of his life for an unprecedented period of time.

The conversation hadn’t been easy, having to determine if they should carry on with their wedding plans or say their uncertain goodbyes. Countless tears had been shed, tears that had ultimately decided to part—tears that were still dripping down Y/N’s chin.

Her lip quivered, watching as Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks, staring up at the screen that flashed his flight number. He let go of the handle he’d been holding, the suitcase nearly falling over before Iwaizumi had a chance to balance it.

Turning to face his fiancée, waterworks flooded his vision, blurring her features into a beautiful mess. A beautiful mess of rosy cheeks and teary eyes, an oil painting of agony that only he could decipher.

“I’ll be thinking of you every day.” He said, holding her gaze as she found herself sobbing in his arms. “From the minute I step through those gates to the time I score my first point—I’ll be thinking of you. You’re all that my mind’s ever thought about, anyways.”

Oikawa cradled her head in his hands, peppering butterfly kisses against her nose, memorizing how naturally gorgeous she looked even when she was at her absolute worst. Nothing could change his view on her, the view that she was flawed perfection—his perfectly flawed perfection.

“I love you so much, Tooru.” Y/N cried, noting the little details of his face. How his irises shone gold in reflection to the setting sun. How unseen freckles kissed his skin in all the right places. How his heart was so big, so full of adoration for their relationship. “I know I say it every day, but you were my first love—”

“Well, you were my only love—and you’re always going to be my only love.”

A pained laugh escaped her mouth as his confession deemed true. It felt like they were going their separate ways, breaking their bond although the both of them knew that this was temporary. That they’d be saying their vows on the very day he’d return.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, wiping away the stray drops that had fallen from his tear ducts. Oikawa grimaced with a tight lipped smile, bringing his own palms up and resting them over hers, feeling the cool metal of her engagement ring.

“This rock had better stay on your finger.” He commanded with a chuckle, trying his best to cement the softness of her skin against his callouses to memory. “Anyone who even thinks to hit on my girl is going to feel the wrath of Oikawa Tooru!”

“It doesn’t matter how many miles are between us,” he continued, surging forward as he captured her lips in his, saying his next few words between shows of love. “You’re my heart, and mine only.”

His kisses were gentle, soft and scarce, in great contrast to the usual tenacity and passion that he held. All the things he’d ever needed to say had been spoken, the only ones left being the promises he’d commit to at the altar.

With the bright flash of a camera, Oikawa found himself frozen. He stared in awe at Y/N, into her devilish eyes that had finally managed to surprise him in his own game. The power of the moment was in her court, the mementos created by the push of her finger.

“Just in case I forget.” She whispered, her forehead resting against his. Her nose scrunched in distaste for their soon-to-be goodbye, their soon to be separation. “Even though I’d never forget you, Tooru.”

“I’ll be here—loving you until the second you’re back.”

Oikawa nodded, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head, before pulling away. He took his luggage from Iwaizumi, on the verge of bursting into tears again at the sight of his sorrow gaze.

The two boys hugged for as long as they possibly could, Oikawa’s hands gripping Iwa’s jacket, to which he responded with a slap on this back with some good natured insults. They had no shame, no concerns about their masculinity or manliness as they held each other in sadness.

Y/N had never seen them so low, always picturing their game faces mixed with determination—a stark difference to the helplessness they expressed amidst the sunsetting rays of the window panes.

“Keep her safe for me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa requested, gesturing to the lonely girl to his left. “Don’t let her get too down on herself, okay? If I’m not there to answer a text or a phone call—you make sure you’re there for her. You make sure she’ll be alright.”

“I know she can handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to all of the time.” He grasped Iwaizumi’s shoulder, shaking it roughly with his wishes. His best friend was nodding beneath his grip, listening to each one of the setter’s asks. “Our little trio’s going to be two for a bit, not forever, but for a while.”

And with one last kiss and an offering, he was gone—lost to the sea of strangers and luggage, ripped away from his favorite people on a flight to a new country with new opportunities. Oikawa Tooru’s head was always lost in the clouds, flying high with the success of volleyball on his mind.

But in his heart was Y/N.

The girl that he’d wanted to marry since the minute he’d seen her laughing in the hallways. Since she’d offered to pass him some balls and cheered for him in the front section of the audience at all of his games. Ever since she’d kissed him for the first time in the back of his parents minivan.

He lived for her, his heart beat for her—and he was itching to be back in her arms, knowing full well that it’d be months until he’d get to see her in person again. All he could hope for was that his gift would suffice her loneliness in his absence.

That the photo box he’d been putting together for years would be enough to keep the memory of their love alive in the times when he’d be too distracted by his ambition to pay her any attention. That it’d remind her that he loved her and would climb mountains to prove it.

And he was right. The polaroids did help Y/N reminisce on all of their frozen moments, lost kisses, and happy memories that she’d be unable to maintain while he was thousands of miles away.

Thousands of miles that would disappear on the day he’d return—on the day of their wedding.

“You alright?”

Y/N jumped, dropping the box of photos in her lap at the unexpected sound of Iwaizumi’s deep voice. The polaroids fluttered to the ground, flying like kites in the wind on a sunny day, falling onto the hardwood on their final departure.

Frantically, she bent over to gather the memories, quickly snatching them up as her friend ran over to help her. The vinyl backings felt smooth in her hand, eyes glancing upwards to Iwa, who’d become stuck on a single frame.

It was one of her favorite moments of the three of them, the photo from their high school gym. The look on her and Oikawa’s faces was hysterical, them choosing to poke fun at their best friend with bunny ears and stuck out tongues.

“I still can’t believe he put all this together.” Iwaizumi wondered aloud, shaking his head in disbelief at the craftiness of his former setter. “Who knew Shitty-kawa had it in him?”

Resting her head over his shoulder, Y/N smiled, her face warming at the sight of his bright and glossy smile. She reached forward, closing his hands around the photograph. “You can have it, the picture.”

His head snapped towards her, profusely rejecting her offer, knowing full well that that gift was meant to be hers and hers alone. “I couldn’t, really. He made this for you, I wouldn’t want to make it any less special.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes whilst straightening her posture. She stood, towering over the man still kneeling on the ground and offered him a hand. “It’s okay, Hajime. I have plenty—and that memory isn’t only mine to keep.”

Taking her extension of help, he rose up, wrapping his arms around her in a large hug. The comfort that he surrounded her with was enough to bring her to tears, knowing that he’d only come in the room to tell her that it was time. That it was time for him to walk her down that flower-filled aisle.

“You look amazing, Y/N. You really do.” Iwaizumi whispered, complimenting the dress she and her mother had selected for the momentous occasion. He raised his arm in the air, spinning her in a circle, admiring how the stunning fabric twirled around her.

She smiled, genuine gratitude filling her beam as she reflected on the comment her beloved fiancé had made about the outfit she’d been meaning to share with him. How he’d boasted about his own appearance, joking that he’d steal the show.

“Yeah, you’ll look beautiful.” He’d told her over the phone during a late night video call while she’d been rambling about choosing a dress, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his voice. “But let’s be honest, I’m impossible to outshine. Sorry, love.”

Over the past year, it’d been impossible to get his voice out of her head. Soft confessions of love, good mornings and goodnights, even arguments played on a loop, on a broken record.

She’d missed him more than words could tell—and she knew, with how much her heart loved him, that she’d miss him every day. She’d miss him no matter how much distance was between them, whether that was thousands of miles or mere inches.

Taking notice of how her body began to shake, how Y/N’s bones were quivering with nerves and anxiety, Iwaizumi looped her arm around his. “You’ve got this.” He encouraged, knowing that she felt unprepared to present herself in front of all of their friends and family in such a way.

The look in his eyes was confident, secure with closure and acceptance for what the day was about to bring. For what the rest of their lives were about to bring to their little trio. He was ready to take the next step—and he was waiting for Y/N to do the same.

As she took a deep breath, calming her nerves into submission, she nodded gesturing to Iwaizumi to carry on, the two of them walking together out of the room and towards the crowd that awaited them.

The thick scent of camellias lay stagnant in the air, the deep red flowers surrounding the venue, strategically placed on vines and potted plants. All done by professional florists and media that had insisted that the day be perfect for a celebrity such as Oikawa.

Handing her off on her own, Iwaizumi pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hands, wishing her luck and reassuring her that everything would turn out okay. Reassuring her that there was no need to be afraid of the future.

Her future, the new reality that was beginning at this very second. The reality that had begun at the first sighting of tears in the audience, the view of Takeru crying into his mother’s shoulder, of Makki and Mattsun silently encouraging her to go on.

“Thank you, all of you, for coming today.” Y/N began, making eye contact with each and every personality, proud of the amount of people that had shown up. Proud of the amount of people that cared enough to be there. “I know you’d all been planning on sitting in those seats since we’d announced our engagement—but really, thank you for saving the date.”

Reaching her hands out to her side, waiting to come into contact with the warmth of his palms, the loving grip that he always seemed to hold—she felt nothing but the smooth mahogany of an empty casket.

“I’m only sorry that our wedding had to become a funeral.”

She sighed, neck craned down to smooth the sparse wrinkles of her dark dress, only to look up and be welcomed by a sea of black—a sea of sorrow. An ocean that would never let her ride her final wave.

“Tooru was so excited to see all of you. He told me that every night, whether it was through a quick text message or one of our phone calls—he always talked about this day, and how lucky he was to have loved ones that cared so much.”

“He was so excited that he just couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait the extra week and took that early flight. Took his own private jet with his crew so that he could surprise all of us, see the looks on our faces as he pulled another one of his stunts.”

A sob began to form at the tip of her tongue, a void of agony building in her stomach. Waiting to be let out in a massive scream or breakdown—but Y/N continued, fighting back her own sadness to be strong for the others. To be their rock, just as Oikawa had always been hers.

“But,” her eyes were watering, voice cracking through her next choice of words. The memory of the moment being overpowering amidst her perseverance. “There was something wrong with the engine. There was something wrong, so wrong, that—well we all know what happened.”

“His head was too lost in the clouds.”

Giving up on her composure, Y/N wrapped her arms around her shaking body, rubbing her shoulders just as he used to whenever she’d feel alone or completely broken. However, she was truly and utterly broken this time—never to be fixed by his loving grasp.

“When Hajime called me, told me what’d happened. When he told me about the phone call, and how’d he’d tried to reach me but for some stupid reason I hadn’t picked up,” Y/N gulped, breathing heavily with sorrow, “I’d never hated myself more.”

“‘Tell her I’m sorry, that I’m sorry that I kept my promise.’ That’s what Tooru had told him while the plane had been spiraling. ‘I’m sorry that I kept the promise that I’d love her ‘till the day I’d die.’”

There wasn’t a single dry face in the audience, everyone dripping with sadness, faces blue with contagious crying as Y/N made her final statement. Her final public farewell to the love of her life. The love of her life that was no more.

“But I’m going to keep my promise and live every day for him. Keep him in our lives as best I can, as often as I can until I’ve lived life long enough to be with him myself.”

A breath of relief overcame her as the audience dispersed, satisfied with her eulogy, slowly walking around the room to admire the makeshift photo boards and flowers that Oikawa’s fans and former classmates had sent.

All alone, Y/N spun to face his casket, the casket that held nothing but a single photograph of him—there being no physical remnants to bury. It was a perfect burial for a king, her perfect king of the court.

The burial was one that Mattsun had blessed them with, already having been in the funeral home career. There was no one else that she would’ve trusted with Oikawa, no one else that she would’ve let come near his memorial.

As her palms ran over the varnished surface of the coffin, eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the pain. She whispered her actual promise, the one she’d told him so many times through the screens of their phones.

“You’re my heart, Tooru—and I’d never forget my heart, no matter how far away you may be.”

And unbeknownst to her, he wasn’t far. He wasn’t far at all—as he was right beside her, his spirit always being by her side through the times she’d try to shut his memory out and pretend that he hadn’t ever existed. There wasn’t a world in which Oikawa would let her be alone to her sadness.

Watching as she cried, wishing that he could wipe away her tears, tell her how much he loves her, give her a longing kiss on the lips—all he could do was stand there and dream of the life they could’ve had.

The life in which she’d be able to see how handsome he looked in the wedding suit he and Iwaizumi had picked out together. The life where she’d laugh and flush red at his snarky comments and cocky attitude. The life where he wasn’t buried under a trillion tons of ocean water.

But that life would never become a reality. It would never come true as he couldn’t stay with her, not even as a spirit. He needed to find his peace, come to terms with how her life would be from that day on—void of their love.

“Don’t cry, beautiful.” Oikawa cried, biting his lip to choke back his own sobs—wanting, more than anything, to brush away her tears. He took one last look at her, one last look to cement the memory of her face.

It was as if she were a photograph, his own keepsake to reminisce and recall wherever he would end up. A final gift, one being given to himself, while he accepted his inevitable fate.

“I’d hate to miss your smile.”

140 notes · View notes

hotchley · 4 years ago

Text

the date

Surprise! I’m on holiday now so I’m using the time to try and get some of my WIPs finished. This and yesterdays were the most done, so don’t expect too much from the next two weeks because I also do need to start doing my work.

The temptation to post a spoiler was almost overwhelming, but I refrained so now you get to read the whole mess in one go! Also, funny story, this had been sitting in my drafts since last year and I only just got around to finish it.

There is a happy, alternate ending. Let me know if you want to see it!

Trigger Warnings: references to child abuse and domestic violence, both characters have low self-esteem and negative perceptions of themselves

read on ao3!

It's too early for anyone else to be there. The entire BAU is on leave- and given how often that was interrupted, it makes sense for everyone to be enjoying it whilst it lasts, but it still shocks her to see the entire sixth floor empty.

Apart from one person.

Hotch is sitting behind his desk, dressed casually. It's strange to see him there, frowning over paperwork, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a fuzzy jumper. It makes him look younger. more like Jack’s dad than Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner and it tugs at something in Emily's heart.

She pushes the feeling away. That isn’t why she's here. It doesn’t matter that she is the only one- aside from Dave- that knows the way he rubs his thumb against his other fingers is a way to soothe himself, not an indication that he's lying. It doesn't matter that she knows what his tell is, or that the smile that had spread across his face when she told him it was a date made her heart flutter. It's irrelevant that he’d pulled her closer when they were dancing as though he was trying to convince himself she was real.

She's leaving. And he's with Beth. Beth, who she had only spoken to for a few minutes but had immediately loved. She is everything Hotch needs after the darkness of the past two years. And Emily can't resent her. Not for falling in love with Hotch and certainly not because he loves her back.

He isn't hers. Maybe he would've been. In a different life where his torso isn't a mess of scars left by the same serial killer that had put his wife in the ground, and her darkness was something that didn't stop her from loving others or cause fear, they would've been beautiful. A peaceful garden that made people smile and realise that there was still hope and a reason to carry on.

But it isn't a different life. They live in a world where you can't keep a photo of your loved one in your wallet in case it fell into the wrong hands, and where the phone ringing did not provoke an eye roll at the latest scam, but a cold dread that someone else they loved is dead or gone. They live in a world where she taints everything she touches- apart from him because he has always been darkness and what she doesn't understand was that her touch made flowers blossom where only weeds had ever lived in his ribcage- and a world where he cannot handle his own humanity.

She hasn't knocked before walking into his office since that case in Milwaukee, all those years ago. She thinks of the woman she had been then, but for once, it doesn't hurt. She is still that headstrong and fiesty agent, but she is also more open and trusting. Aaron had changed too. He'd gotten older and more tired. But he trusts her.

Enough that she doesn't need to knock before entering. It feels wrong though, to walk in unannounced. He would know immediately if she knocks that something is up, and she wants to cling to the feeling of home for a few more moments. She clears her throat instead. The smile that crosses her face when he looks up, slightly startled by her sudden appearance, was completely involuntary.

"Why are you doing paperwork?" she asks.

He sets it to the side, looking like a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "It's only going to pile up, so I thought I would get a head start."

"You deserve to take a break too," she chastises.

He looks down. "I know. Would you like to sit?"

She nods, taking the seat in front of his desk. When she looks at him, it is almost painful. Five years ago, he had called her into his office to snap at her. And she had hated him for it. She knew he was only pretending to not know where she'd gone for college. So she took the knife in her back and plunged it into his heart when she said he didn't trust women as much as men, despite knowing that wasn't true.

He doesn't trust anyone. How could he, when the very people that were meant to love him and keep him safe from the dark were the same monsters that emerged as the sun went down?

But he had looked younger then. Less tired by life and living. And she had been more hopeful. Not naive. She had never been naive. None of them had been. They'd never been given the chance to experience that feeling. But she'd had hope that they could save everyone.

And he hadn't been able to take that from her, but he watched as she slowly lost it. And she watched as he told the team he loved them in a thousand different ways. And she wondered how anyone could ever call him cold. He wasn't cold. Hotch did what it took to protect the honour of the BAU, but Aaron did what it took to keep his family together.

At some point, they had stopped fighting each other and started to blur the lines between friendship and more.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" he asks.

She nods. "JJ deserves it. So does Will. Especially after everything that's happened."

Neither of them know what, but something happened when she was at the State Department.

"We all deserve that," he says, almost too quietly for her to hear. One set of words that she cannot say threaten to fall from her mouth.

"Beth is lovely," she says instead. "What does Jack think of her?"

He smiles at the mention of his son. "She's one of his favourite people."

"That's lovely," she says, wondering why it was so difficult to speak to him. There were only two times their conversations had been this stilted: once when he started working for her mother, and once when she first joined the unit.

There's a sudden silence, and she stares past him and at the books lining his shelves. All the ones that could be seen were law-related. What few people knew was that at the very bottom of the shelf, where his desk and chair would cover it, he has books for Jack.

It had thrown her, the first time she'd seen them. She couldn't reconcile the image of Hotch and the image of Aaron. Now the two were interchangeable. Not that she ever actually called him Aaron. He would call her Emily like her name meant everything, but she was a coward. Aaron was too personal.

She'd used his first name twice. Once after Haley's death, when she thought he would retire even though he would never be happy. Once after her own death, when she told him to burn in hell. She regretted that, even now, after forgiveness had been given.

"She deserves better than me. I know that. I think deep down, she knows that too but I just can't let her walk away from me, and I don't know why," he blurts out. Almost like he needed to say something, but everything else was either too personal or too neutral.

But she understands what he means. She always does.

"You need to convince yourself you can love someone without destroying them. You need a reason to look through case file after case file. You need to know that someone will be waiting when you come home, that this is not for nothing."

Aaron stares, and she swallows. It had been so long since she had been this vulnerable with him. Her bad day, when she had let herself feel after so long of not, felt like decades ago. And in some ways, it had been. She had bought and sold a house. He had crumbled and found love again.

"Emily, there is a reason for all of this. You just need to remember it. And some day, you will have someone waiting at home for you, I promise. Just give it time," he says.

She smiles as he says her name. Ian had tainted it. But Aaron says it like it was something precious and beautiful. What she didn't understand was that, to him, it was. It always had been. It always would be, no matter what.

But then the rest of his words register and her smile fades. He already knows she's leaving, had known since she returned that it was only a matter of time. Foolishly he had hoped it would be far, far into the future, when his own health issues forced him to retire. That would be kind though. And the world had never been kind to either of them.

She would walk away now, even though she didn't want to, because she could not stand the memory of the last time she had been in that office. And he would stay, even though he couldn't, because he would not let the team lose yet another person.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" she asks, thinking about their conversation the previous night. How it had been perfect, but a cloud shaped like goodbye had been hanging over them throughout the night. She supposed that was what life was though.

It didn't make it hurt any less when Dave forced her into Aaron's arms. He had smiled, that soft and gentle one that transformed him from Unit Chief into the man that knew far too much for his age. That still longed for a childhood.

She hadn't wanted to talk about work, or her departure or even Beth. Instead, she whispered to him about the time he had spent working for her mother, and how even then, his suits didn't fit properly. He responded by talking about the evenings they had spent together watching old reruns of the comedies from her childhood.

And it was nice.

And again, she wonders if she was doing the right thing.

"I have my suspicion," he says, trying to keep his tone light. He doesn't want Emily to regret anything. He doesn't want to influence her decision. But in the back of his mind, she's just another person leaving him. And he wonders if he would ever be good enough for anyone, and then he hates himself for thinking that because this wasn't about him.

It is about Emily. And her need for a fresh start.

"You want me to say it, don't you?" she isn't accusing him. She just needs to be sure.

"Need," he corrects. "I need you to say it."

But it isn't out of spite. Or anger. He just needs to know it was her choice. That he has nothing to do with it. That she doesn't blame him anymore. That the thing that had been building between them before- before Doyle, before Foyet made him too afraid to feel anything- has not been destroyed.

"I'm resigning from the BAU and moving to London," she says. Saying it out loud, for the first time, to him of all the people, made the situation so much real.

She hadn't fully processed that she had accepted Clyde's offer. She knew for a while that she would be leaving, but now, the full impact of it hit her. There would be no more crushing hugs from Derek in private after the cases that destroyed them both. No more little toys from Penelope stuffed into her top drawer to make her smile.

No more Aaron seeking her out to ask her silly questions about foreign languages because Jack had expressed an interest in them. No more Aaron making sure she was fine by simply glancing in her direction. No more coffee on her desk after a difficult meeting that he would never confess to making, but which everyone knew was his doing.

No more phone calls too early in the morning begging for a story, a joke, anything, to distract from the memory he had of her in the hospital after Doyle.

No more them, messy and broken and damaged as they were.

He nods. The smile on his face is forced, and she can see him fighting back tears. He doesn’t want her to go. But he also knows that she needs to. She is doing what he had never been able to do: leave, before it all became too much and whatever life they still had left was permanently ruined.

“You’ll take them by storm. Just like you did here,” he says.

She smiles slightly, thinking back once more to her earliest days. “Only there won’t be someone accusing me of being a spy for their boss, which really did define those first few months.”

She meant it as a joke. She really should have known better. He always took these things too literally, so afraid of the teasing disguising a genuine anger that would only come out hours later when he had forgotten the transgression.

“Emily, I never apologised for my actions, but I need you to know-”

“You have apologised. I don’t need to hear the words to know how sorry you are. Also, it wasn’t really misplaced distrust was it?”

“Still. I am sorry. For everything.”

He isn’t just talking about those early days, she suddenly realises. He was talking about everything, from Milwaukee to Benjamin Cyrus to Ian Doyle. She longs to reach across and take his hand, rubbing her own fingers over the skin that he was always worrying, but that isn’t her job anymore.

It never had been. Even if she had wanted it to be.

“So am I,” she says. “I miss the man you were when I first joined,” she adds without thinking.

He frowns, the furrow so much like the look Jack had given her when she told him the previous night that one day, he would also be old like his dad and her. It hurt, to see how similar they were. Maybe it was because, where Hotch had always hated looking like his father, Jack would love it.

“Why?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse. He's afraid of her answer.

“You had more faith in people and their goodness. More hope for the future. I don’t blame you for changing. Still, it was a beautiful belief to witness and be a part of.”

“Haley always gave me a reason to believe in goodness,” he confesses, fiddling with the pen he had set down the moment she walked in.

“Perhaps Beth can give you some more,” she says, without a single hint of jealousy or anger. She has no right to either of those emotions. Women like her, women that only hurt the people they loved and who were harsh and cruel and rough around the edges did not get men like him.

Men like Aaron got soft and gentle women who saw nothing but the best in everyone. It was the only way that they could carry on doing their jobs. The only way any of them could carry on looking into the abyss without flinching was by having something that would be their solace. Something or someone untouched by the horrors of the day and evil of the night.

He has found his solace. She is still searching. Because he cannot be her solace anymore. It isn’t fair to either of them. She's not going to make him choose between loving her and loving Beth. She knows that people could love more than one person, but he already felt guilty for still loving Haley. After everything else she had put him through, she couldn't put him through the pain of knowing that she had always loved him, had always known just what his lingering stares meant, but had just never found the right time to say it all.

"When I said she deserves better than me, I didn't just mean because I'm broken."

"Aaron, you aren't-"

"Stop, let me- let me finish. I am. I have been for a while now. Maybe I was never whole to begin with. I meant that I'm in love with someone else. I thought I was over it, but I wasn't, and it was only when we started dating that I realised."

"Nobody can fault you for still loving Haley. She was torn from you in the most horrific way possible, and if you still love her, that's okay. Your heart has always been too big for just one person."

"I'm not talking about Haley," he whispers. "I'm talking about you."

"Aaron."

"I love you," he chokes out.

He can't. He can't love her. If he loves her, he will end up in a coffin, buried in the ground because she always kills the people that love her. If he loves her, the flowers in his heart that were finally blooming after Haley's death caused them all to wilt would be permanently destroyed.

He stares at her. She looks away. The look on his face is too real. Too much. If she looks at him, she would end up tearing up the resignation and phoning Clyde to say she couldn't do it. She believes that there was a universe in which she was strong enough to stay. A universe in which she was still beautiful.

But in the universe she lives in, she isn't. She is hardened by life and terrified of love. In the universe where Aaron only knows how to say I love you when everything else failes, who had only ever heard the words used out of fear, shouted by a desperate mother as her husband refused to have mercy, she has gone too long without speaking.

"Say something. Even if it's that you hate me and that I'm a terrible person. Or that I'm being cruel and unfair because I am. You're ready to leave and I shouldn't be ruining your fresh start like this but I just-"

"I love you too," she says.

His jaw drops. "Emily," he breathes.

"I- I love you. I don't know when it started or when I realised, but I love you. I have for a while. I just- I couldn't say anything."

"Why?"

The question catches her off-guard. "What?"

"Why do you love me?"

He's not searching for a compliment. He genuinely wants to know why she- with her beauty and strength and power and loyalty and kindness- could ever love him.

"For the same reason you hate yourself."

He laughs. "That's funny. In some twisted way, that's funny. I love you for the same reasons you hate yourself too."

She looks at him. Him, with his tired eyes and gentle smiles. With his twisted definition of love because nobody ever taught him what it really was. Who believed he had to be perfect, or else people would leave. Who led the team with such passion and loyalty because Haley's love terrified him, and it was easy to push her away. Him, who still does not know the difference between safety and happiness and who does not understand where kindness and love differ.

And she knows that she cannot do it. She is not strong enough to love him the way he needs. Maybe a few years ago. Maybe if this was a few years later. But time was a funny thing. It was always working against them.

"I love you," she repeats.

"You won't stay though, will you?" there is no anger in his voice. Just an acceptance she hates. He always accepts things far too easily.

"I can't."

"I know. It's okay. I don't want you to have any regrets. About anything."

He stands, and she follows almost immediately, her body still attuned to his movements. When he walks around to stand in front of her, she wonders if this is the climax of their story. If this is the final moment, where the tension peaks, and everything ends happily.

When he was a child, he pretended his life was like the films he never got to watch in order to escape the reality of it. He eventually accepted that life did not always come with closure and sometimes loose ends could not be tied up.

He holds out his hand for her. "Agent Prentiss. I wish you all the best in the future."

She refuses to take his hand. "You don't want me to have regrets?"

He drops his hand back down by his side. "Of course not Em. Of course not."

Without giving herself time to think, she closes the gap between them and stands on her tip-toes. He doesn't pull away, but his breathing goes uneven as it catches in his throat. He looks down at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.

There is so much about him she wants to learn. So much she wants to memorise but she doesn't have time. So she presses one soft and gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling through the sadness as he relaxes into the touch with a shaky exhale.

He doesn't move. He can't. And so she steps away, clearing her throat, wiping away the tear that threatens to fall.

"Goodbye Aaron," she says, his first name slipping out without her even realising she was saying it.

"You only ever call me Aaron when you're saying goodbye. I'm not sure whether it makes me hate or love my name more," he says.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," she says instead. She doesn't want to think about the reasons he hates his name. Or the irony of it meaning exalted, when every single person that was meant to protect him failed.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to look back and smile. And be proud of the lives you saved, the family you found. I want you to remember that you made me a better man. That you were right. I wasn't alone."

"None of us were. Will you come and visit me? Maybe help me get settled?"

It is selfish to ask, but she never claimed to be good. Aaron believes she is, but she knows she isn't.

"Of course I will," he promises. How can he not, when he blames himself for every single bad thing that had happened since she joined?

She gave him one final smile before closing the door behind her, ready to start a new life but still feeling like her heart had been torn from her chest. He watches her go, only falling to the ground to sob when the elevator doors close behind her one last time.

In the end, he does not visit. He gets as far as picking his seat, when he realises he cannot do it. He cannot see her. When he phones Derek, pleading for him to go instead, and to take Penelope so Emily cannot be angry, he doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that he has been crying.

Derek doesn't even hesitate. He just says he'll do it.

Emily hates Aaron for being too much of a coward to come and see her, even after he told her to not have any regrets. She hates herself more for not being able to see him when she hears about the emergency surgery. Saving JJ becomes her apology.

Still, it's not enough for her. Which is exactly why it's too much for him. Because even when they're stood across from each other, drinks in hand as they celebrate JJ's survival, they cannot be honest.

And then she leaves him again. He can't blame her.

He blames time. They never had enough. Or the right one.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #sad aaron hotchner #hotch angst #sad emily prentiss #emily angst #tw child abuse #tw negative self talk #sumayyah writes cm

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paradoxicalpatton · 4 years ago

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I’m Not In Love

Title: I’m Not in Love Summary: “He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in. He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love." The Captain and Pat's friendship is put on the line. Pairings: Patcap (The Captain/Pat) Content Warnings: Very mild period typical internalised homophobia Chapter: 2 Word Count: 1744 Read on: Archive of Our Own Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I can’t believe we’ve just sat here for five hours and have done absolutely nothing.”

The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on the land as it began to slowly cross the horizon, the trees and bushes gently swaying to and fro, adding a soft, cool breeze to the scene. The lake had mirrored the sunset, the transition from sky to land now almost impossible to distinguish if it weren’t for small ripples from the wind delicately distorting the light over the water.

The once vivid greens and browns of the foliage among the ground and surrounding the lake had now been muted by the vibrant yellows and oranges that were now reflecting from the sun and onto the water, a deep rich blue quickly chasing away the final remnants of the day completely from the vast stretching sky above.

Pat and the Captain had been sitting by the lake since late that afternoon, having finally escaped from the chaos that is Button house. It was nice. Peaceful. For once they could relax without being interrupted by Julian with a story of some sex-capde he had been in followed by Fanny’s usual disgusted complaints, or by Thomas demanding that one of them tell Kitty to leave him alone while he comes up with the next great piece of literature.

Alison had come to realise just how much she depended on the two of them to keep the other ghosts in order, so she had organised an afternoon full of activities the ghosts would enjoy and participate in so Pat and the Captain could finally have some time to themselves.

Sitting underneath the large tree, Pat watched the grass move with the wind, longing to reach a hand out and run it across the ground so that he could feel it between his fingers. It made him think back to when he was alive. Carol had always complained about their front garden, how the weeds in the flower beds were overgrown and that the bushes were always untrimmed. He had always wanted to fix it for her, but he was usually preoccupied with his scout duties, and when he did find time to think about it he simply couldn’t come up with anything.

He owed it to his son Daley, however, when the young boy had asked him if they could plant flowers for his Mummy’s birthday, that way she didn’t have to throw them out after they died. So when Carol left to spend a week at her mothers before her birthday, Pat and Daley drove out to the garden store and bought everything they needed to fix it up for her.

Forget-me-nots, marigolds, daffodils, and pansies now filled the once weed-infested flower beds. The bushes had been trimmed, the trees cut, and the lawn mown. A small wooden bench had even been built and placed at the end of the garden. The smile on Daley’s face as him and his father admired their hard work from the bench was brighter than anything Pat had ever seen. They were so proud.

Pat wished he could smell the rich soil at this moment. Wished he could run his hands along the grass, listen to the sound of the fallen dead leaves crunch as he walked over them. He wished he could relive the feeling of pulling his son close to him in a tight hug after planting the final flower.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crickets waking up for the evening, as the last remaining rays of sunlight dropped below the horizon.

----------

Not wanting to return to Button house just yet, Pat directed his gaze at the man next to him. The Captain had been leant against the tree since they had got there that afternoon, the two occasionally making small talk before the Captain closed his eyes in an attempt to have the most peaceful nap of his entire existence. He’d woken not long ago, just in time to watch the sun fall and the moon rise.

For a moment after he’d woken up, the Captain had almost forgotten he was dead. At that moment, there was nothing but him, Pat, and the ground they were sat on. The tranquil smile that graced Pat’s face was more than enough to set the Captain’s heart racing. He tried to imagine what it would’ve been like, had the two of them been alive at the same time where loving the same gender was legal.

They’d move to the countryside, he decided. They’d have a large backyard with a vegetable garden by the white picket fence, maybe an apple tree, maybe even a chicken or two. The Captain had always found the thought of fresh eggs in the morning very appealing, as well as the structure provided from owning and caring for the animals.

He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in.

He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love.

It’s wrong, thinking about Pat that way. Imagining the two of them living in domestic bliss, running away and starting their lives all over again together. The Captain isn’t entirely sure why it’s wrong though. He was there for Sam and Claire’s wedding, he knows it’s not illegal to love the same gender anymore. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t fully accepted it himself.

He was so used to hiding away his feelings, burying them deep inside of him so that no one would ever see. So that no one would ever know he was defective. If he didn’t get close to anybody, he couldn’t betray them if they ever found out the truth.

Maybe he thought it was wrong because he truly believed that Pat would never love someone like him. He was cold, a stickler for rules and order. Not to mention that Pat was married while he was alive, to a woman no less. It was clear the scoutmaster was as straight as a pole.

It wouldn’t do any good getting his hopes up. Instead, the Captain would ignore the longing inside of him, he didn’t want to ruin what was quite possibly his only friendship in the entire house.

“Yes, well we have Alison to thank for that. Maybe we could convince her to turn this into a monthly thing. I could do with some time away from that lot every now and then.”

The Captain turned his attention toward Pat as he replied, hoping the younger ghost would be in favour of the idea. With a small nod of agreeance, Pat stood up and offered a hand to the Captain to avoid the struggle of getting up. The two of them slowly made their way back to Button house, the sounds of the other ghosts getting increasingly louder the closer they got. Hoping to stay undetected by the others, Pat and the Captain quietly snuck into the room where Alison and the other ghosts were playing some type of game.

They had almost gotten away with it without anyone noticing until Fanny got insulted at something Julian had said and jumped up to storm away. Seeing the Captain and Pat at the back of the room, she immediately took her complaint to them, the two male ghosts now preparing themselves to be thrown back into the chaos with everyone beginning to talk at once.

Alison made an attempt to calm the other ghosts down and distract them once more but was unsuccessful. It wasn’t until Pat raised his voice that everyone finally quietened down, pointing a finger at Robin asking him to start.

“Where you two go? We all play game, you not here.”

Before either of them had a chance to respond, Julian cut in with a thought that sent the ghosts into disarray once more.

“Probably off somewhere doing the old ‘horizontal tango’ if you ask me.”

“Now listen here, man! I won’t take any of this bum rap from someone of the likes of you. I would never do anything of the sort, and especially not with a brown-noser such as Patrick!”

The room stilled. The sudden silence wasn’t because of the Captain’s outburst, however, instead, the other ghosts looked past him at the short scout leader.

Without saying a word, Pat turned around and walked out, making his way to the dilapidated fountain outside the front door. He wasn’t really sure why what the Captain said had upset him. It hurt, to be completely honest.

Sitting by the edge of the fountain, Pat traced the overgrown vines with his eyes and ignored the presence slowly approaching him from behind.

“Patrick, I’m terribly sorry our friendship was misconstrued in such a way, I understand how embarrassing it was.”

“Embarrassed? You really think I’m upset because Julian’s comment embarrassed me?”

“Of course. Is… is that not the reason you’re upset?”

“No! Julian always says inappropriate things, it was what you said that hurt me.”

The Captain’s hands tightened around his swagger stick as Pat spoke, something in the younger man's tone made him want to embrace the scout leader.

“I don’t understand how, I was simply disproving Julian’s abhorrent comment.”

“That’s how! He said something about us together in passing and you acted like it was the worst possible thing in the world! Am I really that revolting Captain?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Patrick!”

“Seriously? Can’t you see that I’m angry at you? I’m upset! And you... you don’t even care!”

“How dare you, of course I care! But you’re acting like a child, it’s time to grow up-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the Captain was shoved back, his feet tripping over one another causing him to fall to the ground. Looking up, Pat stood above him, the man’s face a mixture of regret and anger. The Captain watched as Pat turned around, his hands clenched by his sides.

“Cap, you’re a broken man, haunted by the choices you've made. I really thought we were becoming good friends. I’m sorry if I interpreted our relationship the wrong way.”

“Pat…”

“Don’t. Please, just don’t Cap. Sorry I pushed you.”

#bbc ghosts #six idiots #the captain #pat butcher #patcap #my fic #ghosts season 2 #ghosts bbc #ben willbond #jim howick

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whosaskingwrites · 4 years ago

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I Remember (Bokuto x Reader)

A/N: Bokuto is my absolute favorite in Haikyuu so this physically pained me to write. But I personally love this one its my favorite and its told entirely from Akaashi's point of view. Also this one ended up being the longest one so there's that.

WARNINGS: ANGST. Hospital is mentioned so mentions of needles. There's fluffy moments scattered in but do not be fooled it is angst.

Date: Sunday October 25th, 2020

Details: 7 pages 2,518 words

Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.

Angst Masterlist

I was twenty three years old when the first petal appeared. It was a pure white rose petal as it sat in my palm. That was the same day I told my best friend Akaashi.

I answered the phone holding it to my ear and before I could say anything Y/n’s voice came through. “Keiji I’m panicking I don’t know what to do and I’m scared-,” I interrupted her talking trying to understand what was happening. “Y/n slow down what’s wrong?” She took a deep shuttering breath as she responded “…I’ve got Hanahaki Disease Keiji,”

I was twenty four years old when I had to be rushed to the hospital during a MSBY game. I was hooked up to machines Akaashi by my side. He held my hand when I cried and admitted the cause of the flowers.

“Keiji I really love him…And I don’t know what to do…,” I sighed looking at her before I spoke “You two have been friends for years im sure you’ll be okay no matter what,” She shook her head eyes wide in fear “Keiji…loving him is different I can’t tell him!”

Bokuto was the reason for those snow white rose petals.

I was twenty four when the first petal appeared. It was a f/f petal clutched in my palm. That was the same day I told my friend Kuroo.

“Kuroo I’ve got something to tell you,” Kuroo heard Bokuto’s voice over the phone speaking as soon as Kuroo had answered the phone. “Aw are you about to express your undying love for me?” He snickered at his own joke but Bokuto didn’t laugh with him “I’ve got Hanahaki Disease...,” Kuroo took a sharp inhale of breath when Bokuto told him what was wrong. “Oh fuck,”

That same age I was rushed to the hospital during my match. I was hooked up to machines with Kuroo by my side. He sat next to me when I admitted the cause of the flowers.

“Kuroo it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?” Bokuto’s hand was pressed against his heart a fresh trail of blood on his face and trashcan overflowing with f/f petals. “Bokuto…,”Kuroo said staring at his friend feeling sad just watching him. “I love her Kuroo so why does it hurt?” Bokuto looked up then locking eyes with Kuroo and Kuroo gasped as for the first time he saw Bokuto’s normally bright gold eyes were now dull and lifeless.

Y/n was the reason for those f/f petals.

They fell in love with each other at different times. She fell slowly not willing to jeopardize everything they’d have for years.

“Keiji I can’t tell him! It’d ruin everything even if he felt the same,” She was nervous as I spoke her eyes looking everywhere but my face. “It wouldn’t ruin everything Y/n,” I soothed her rubbing gentle circles in her hand “I can’t risk everyone’s friendships for this,” she whispered finally looking me in the eyes. Her eyes had lost their normal spark and I knew she was missing him.

He fell fast but unwilling to put their relationship on the line.

“Kuroo I’m not telling her,” Bokuto’s arms were crossed over his chest his iv needle jostled slightly causing him to hiss in pain. “Bokuto nothing will change!” Kuroo mirrored the arms crossed position as he looked at Bokuto. “Everything would change!” He threw his hands up trying to emphasize his point.

It was a funny thing though back in high school everyone always assumed they were dating.

“Y/n!” She turned in her spot her eyes catching Bokuto’s “Kota!” she cheered as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up in a hug “Aw they’re so cute together,” A first year said while everyone nearby stopped to watch. “There goes Fukurodani’s power couple,” Konoha said from next to me with a chuckle. “I wish I had a relationship like theirs,” Another third year girl said. “We aren’t dating!” Y/n claimed still holding on to Bokuto. Its not like he helped though “Yeah!” He yelled pouting as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Yeah right,” A second year whispered nearby.

Those last few days in the hospital though…Those would stick with them forever.

I walked her to Bokuto’s room she had finally cracked and decided to tell him her feelings. We walked in her holding onto me and she held onto the pole holding her I.V bag. She looked at him he was sitting up in the bed looking no better than she did.

Both of them looked so tired. With eye bags and skin discoloration everywhere. They both bruised so easily now and were malnourished and dehydrated. Both had been unable to really eat or drink anything since they often threw up flower petals.

Bokuto’s hair was down and messy and I shivered at the depressing aura in the room. She moved forward and nudged his feet to get him to move them. Both of them seemed aware of the other’s fragile states being very soft in their touches. It however was very obvious both of them wanted to hold each other.

She sat when he moved his legs and Kuroo went to stand by me. I noticed he was taking pictures and he smiled when I noticed. “So they remember how dumb they are,” he whispered. She reached forward and took his hands holding them lightly “Bokuto please listen I love you,” He pointed at me then and offered her a shaky smile. “No...You love him Y/n,” he was trying to convince himself she didn’t and she knew that.

“No Kota I love you,” his eyes widened then knowing she was telling him the truth. She never lied to him when she used his nickname. He would have been able to tell if she was lying anyway. For once his gold eyes returned to their normal brightness as he leaned forward.

I remember how they hugged sobs falling past their lips and tears running down their faces.

“Kota I’m so sorry!” her head was buried in his chest as she cried arms wrapped around him. “It’s okay I’m here…and I’m sorry too,” He placed a kiss on top of her head as he whispered his response. I didn’t know why they were apologizing to each other but then again. I didn’t need to know they were happy and that’s what mattered.

I remember how they kissed hushed I love yous falling past their lips and their tears mixing together everytime they kissed.

“I love you so much Y/n,” Bokuto said pressing soft kisses to her face and multiple against her lips. “I love you too Kota…so so much,” she had replied back in-between the kisses. Her hands were in his hair running her fingers through the silver and black strands. “I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Kuroo whispered to me as we looked at them.

His hand was holding tightly to her hospital gown the other hand was on her hip rubbing small circles into it as she sat on his lap. Their foreheads rested together at this point both of them closed their eyes basking in silence and finally being able to hold eachother.

“Maybe…But they deserve this Kuroo-san,”

I remember her sitting between his legs as they talked about the future. They talked about their future son.

“His name is gonna be Keiji Tetsuro Bokuto!” Bokuto had exclaimed Y/n was leaned back against his chest. His arms around her waist and she was holding his hands. Bokuto would occasionally press kisses to her neck and shoulder blade but it never seemed to bother her.

“Wait wait wait! Why is my name the middle name?” Kuroo asked looking at the pair. “Because Keiji is mine and Bokuto’s best friend,” Y/n responded with a smirk. “So will they be a middle blocker since Y/n chose his first name?” Kuroo asked wanting something besides a middle name.

“I think he’d make a good setter,” I voiced smirking at Kuroo while he glared at me. “You’re both wrong! He’s gonna be a wing spiker like his father!” Bokuto exclaimed looking at us with a proud smile.

I remember how all four of us argued and how they described how their son would look.

“He’s gonna be 6’1 and just as cheerful as me!” Bokuto said with a smile gold eyes bright as he talked. “I hope he has s/c skin like me,” Y/n said leaning back against Bokuto’s shoulder while he hummed looking at her. “I think he’ll have shiny h/c hair like you!” Bokuto suddenly said looking at Y/n with a bright smile. “Well Kota I think he’ll have big golden eyes just like you,” She said as she turned back to look at him.

A hand hit my shoulder causing me to flinch as I looked away from the paper I was writing. Kuroo stood their a small smile on his face. “Ready to go Akaashi?” He was wearing a dress that barely reached his knees unlike myself where I was in a suit. Normally we didn’t dress up on weekends but this weekend was special.

I remember how Bokuto proposed on his hospital bed a thin silver ring placed on her finger when she accepted.

Bokuto was laying down now Y/n pulled on top of him. His arms were still around her and the sun was setting. Kuroo and I had assumed by the soft breathing that the two of them had fallen asleep. Until Bokuto spoke up breaking the peaceful atmosphere

“Hey Y/n marry me?” He whispered. She lifted her head up and looked at him her eyes were wide in shock as she spoke.“W-what?” “I want you to marry me,” He said again looking at her with so much affection in his eyes.“Kota I…Of course I’ll marry you,” She whispered kissing him he reached beside him and put a small silver ring on her finger. Sakusa had brought it for him earlier when he asked.

“Can we get married in the spring? The cherry blossoms always look so pretty then,” She requested as she placed her head back on his chest. “Anything for you Y/n,” He whispered burying his nose into her hair.

We reached the hill that the two of them had met on. I always remembered that day too unaware that in a few years we’d be back for a different reason.

“Bokuto-san slow down!” I called watching him run towards a hill. He turned to face me now running backwards his school tie fluttered out behind him and a wide grin was on his face. “I can’t Akaashi! I’ve been sitting still ALL DAY,” He shouted back towards me. I saw behind him a girl with h/c hair walking by seemingly unaware of her surroundings.

“Bokuto-san watch out!”I called pointing behind him with wide eyes. He turned suddenly but couldn’t slow down in time “Wha-?” He ran into the girl knocking them both down. I winced as I got closer hearing a groan from them. Bokuto sat up suddenly looking at the h/c girl “Ah! I’m so sorry!” He shouted helping her back up. The girl rubbed her head and waved a hand at the apology before speaking. “No um it’s okay really!”

“Hey what’s your name?” Bokuto had a curious look on his face head tilted to the side. He was staring at the girl with wide gold eyes and yet she didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. “Me? Oh I’m L/n Y/n!” She chirped smiling and holding a hand out. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou!” He said matching her smile before he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you Bokuto,”

I sighed as I got there looking at the cherry blossom petals that fell down around us. “Today’s the day huh Bokuto-san and Y/n to of course,” Kuroo came up next to me.

I remembered them talking about the wedding wide smiles on their faces and holding onto each other tightly.

“I think we should have a dog bring the rings!” Bokuto stated throwing his hands up from where the rested on Y/n's back. She scrunched her nose at that. “No Kota the dogs should be the flower girls!” She said back her voice clearly indicating she was tired. Bokuto hummed in thought it must have been pleasant as she burrowed closer to his chest.

“I like that! Can Kuroo be the ring bearer?” Bokuto asked putting his hands back and tracing soft circles into her skin. She sighed in content at the action while Kuroo scoffed. “Wait why me? Why not Akaashi?” He stated with arms crossed “Im Bokuto’s best man that’s why,” I answered the question for them as the fatigue was beginning to wear on them both.

“Yeah and Yukie is my maid of honor! So you can be the ring bearer,” Y/n mumbled from her position. “Can I be a bridesmaid instead? I’ll even wear a dress,” Kuroo called. “Fine but only if you find a replacement ring bearer,” She whispered and I stood “Good night you two,” I said looking at Bokuto and Y/n.

Kuroo got up as well as Bokuto and Y/n whispered a good night. “See you tomorrow,” Bokuto mumbled nuzzling closer to Y/n his eyes barely open as he looked at us. “See you tomorrow,” Kuroo called back. Bokuto’s eyes closed then and he sighed. The last thing we heard before walking out were Bokuto and Y/n talking to each other quietly.

“I love you Kota,” “I love you too Y/n,”

“Sorry we were late there was some traffic!” I turned seeing my old volleyball team and the MSBY team everyone in suits or dresses. Sakusa had a pair of rings in his hand after he was made the ring bearer. Iwaizumi had brought Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki. Each of them had a dog with a basket of flowers. “Well let’s get this started then,” Kuroo said as he took his place on Y/n’s side while I moved to Bokuto’s side.

Two hours later all of us were leaving to go a restaurant. I sighed as we left Bokuto and Y/n behind their rings sparkled in the sunlight. We left them with a bouquet of white roses on Y/n’s side and f/f on Bokuto’s side. I stood for a minute facing the two grey slabs of marble side by side like they deserved and let my final memories of them go as I stared at the photo of them Kuroo had left.

It was of them holding each other with tears running down their cheeks and smiles on their faces.

I remember how they admitted their love for each other when it was too late to save them.

I remember them at twenty four leaving the world curled up in each other’s arms unaware that they wouldn’t wake up again but they left knowing one thing.

They knew they loved eachother.

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto angst #WhosaskingAngst #bokuto fluff

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annzybwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lovestruck

Based on @whatisoatmeal-likeseriously‘s request for a lovestruck Snuf. I didn’t include all of their suggestions, but I hope everyone enjoys anyway ;) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened gradually, over a period of a few years or so. And then it happened suddenly, hitting Snufkin all at once during a seemingly random moment. He and Moomin weren’t doing anything too special, in fact they weren’t even doing anything particularly adventurous. It was the evening, and Moomin was helping him gather worms so they could go fishing tomorrow.

But the sight of Moomin kneeling and digging into the wet ground, a calm smile on his face as a low hum vibrated through his snout—well, Snufkin would be a fool if he didn’t take notice of the warmth spreading through his chest.

“Moomin,” Snufkin spoke, waiting until Moomin looked up at him before continuing. “I think I love you.”

Moomin stared blankly at him for a moment, the shovel slipping out of his hand as his eyes widened. “Wh… what?”

Snufkin smiled softly, standing just so he could walk over and kneel beside Moomin, picking up his shovel and handing it to him. “I said I love you.”

This close, Snufkin could see a faint redness underneath Moomin’s fur, his blue eyes glancing away as he took the shovel back. “You left out the ‘I think’ that time.”

“Ah, so you did hear me the first time.”

“Of course I did.” Moomin clutched the shovel tightly to his chest with both hands, his eyes closed in embarrassment. “I just didn’t really believe it.”

“Why not?” Snufkin had to ask, loving the way Moomin’s tail swished back and forth.

“I don’t know.” Moomin opened one eye, turning more red as he looked at his best friend. “Because… because I didn’t do anything.”

Snufkin laughed softly, reaching over to gently pry one of Moomin’s hands off the shovel so he could hold it. “You are worthy of love whether or not you’ve done anything. Besides, you’ve done plenty over the years.”

Moomin swallowed, his hand tightening around Snufkin’s. “I suppose that’s true. I, um…” He set the shovel by his side, lifting his head slightly so he could stare into Snufkin’s eyes. “I love you, too, Snufkin.”

Snufkin felt heat rise to his own cheeks. He reached up with his free hand and pulled his hat down to cover his eyes. But he was sure Moomin could still see his smile. “Oh, that’s unexpected.”

“You’re joking, right?” Moomin laughed, interlocking their fingers. “What, me running up to you with a huge smile on my face every spring wasn’t a big hint?” Snufkin started to laugh as Moomin continued. “Oh! Or how about all of the flower crowns I’ve made you—you realize most of the flowers I used had romantic meanings, right?”

“I noticed,” Snufkin admitted, righting his hat so he could smile earnestly at Moomin’s bright face. “But I didn’t want to read too much into it. I don’t think I was ready to accept it yet.”

Moomin stared straight into Snufkin’s eyes, his ears alert and his tail curled around himself. “But you’re ready now?”

Snufkin nodded, leaning in to wrap his arms tight around Moomin’s neck in a hug, loving how warm he felt when Moomin wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m ready.”

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

The afternoon started calmly on the front porch of Moominhouse. Snufkin was perched on the railing as usual, playing songs on his harmonica while Moomin listened from one of the chairs, eyes closed and his tail swishing to the meter. After a few songs, Moomin gasped and sprung up, saying he’d be right back. He ran off, returning with Moominpappa’s recordplayer and a few records, a wide smile on his face as he placed it on the table and started it up.

As the first few lilting notes rang through the air, Moomin cleared his throat and offered his hand to Snufkin. “Can I have this dance?”

Snufkin smiled wide, setting his harmonica down before accepting Moomin’s hand. “You’ll be leading, then?”

“I don’t have much practice following,” Moomin admitted as Snufkin hopped down.

“That’s all right.” Snufkin chuckled, lifting his other to rest on Moomin’s shoulder. “I don’t have much practice with either part. Besides, the waltz is your favorite.”

“It is.” Moomin brightened, his hand warm on Snufkin’s hip as they began dancing together. “At the risk of sounding embarrassing, I’ve often thought of dancing like this with you.”

Snufkin chuckled, grinning softly as he followed Moomin through the motions. “Oh? How often?”

Moomin flushed, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Excuse me, this is the part where you respond with something embarrassing.”

Snufkin couldn’t help but laugh then, misstepping in his amusement. They stopped for a moment, finding the rhythm again before resuming their dance. “Oh, all right, if I must.”

“And you must,” Moomin insisted with a huff.

Snufkin laughed even louder and shook his head. “You’re going to make me mess up again!”

“Fine, fine.” Moomin’s expression relaxed into a smile. “So, you were saying?”

“Hm, something embarrassing.” Snufkin hummed, enjoying for a moment how warm he felt with Moomin’s hands on him, and how easily they moved together. “Well, that implies that I ever feel embarrassed.”

“Snufkin!”

“All right, all right! You’re so easy to tease.” Snufkin chewed at his lower lip, trying to stop himself from smiling so wide. “Here’s something: sometimes during the winter I’ll make life-sized snow figures of you and talk as if you’re there, listening.”

Snufkin had assumed Moomini would misstep after such a declaration, but he didn’t expect him to actually trip and fall onto the porch in his surprise, pulling Snufkin down with him.

“Wh-what!?” Moomin exclaimed as Snufkin laughed, not bothering with untangling their limbs from each other.

“Really now,” Snufkin hummed, letting his head rest against Moomin’s shoulder. “I think you’re the one feeling embarrassed from what I said.”

“Well, it’s surprising!”

“Do I really seem so detached?”

“In years past, absolutely.”

“And this year?”

“This year feels like a dream.”

Snufkin smiled wider, lifting his head so he could look into Moomin’s eyes. “Well, when you finally realize what you want, what’s the point in denying it?”

Moomin whined softly, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. “I can’t believe you can say such things so easily. And here I thought I was the romantic one.”

“You are romantic,” Snufkin insisted, lazily pushing himself to his feet so he could dust off his tunic. “You invited me to dance, and you write poetry, and you make crafts for me—”

“But I can’t verbalize things like you do,” Moomin interrupted, taking Snufkin’s hand before rising to his own feet.

“That may be true,” Snufkin hummed, squeezing Moomin’s hand as the music played around them. “But love takes all forms. You express yours through gifts, and offering service. I suppose I express mine through words, mainly, and music of course.”

Moomin creased his brows together. “But you give gifts and help other people, too.”

“Only if I see people in need of help, and only if I think I can do it,” Snufkin shrugged. “It’s not as if I go out of my way for anyone. But for you, Moomin,” he grinned softly, taking Moomin’s hand to his mouth for a kiss. “For you I’d push myself to impossible heights if I knew it would make you happy.”

“You’re doing it again.” Moomin covered his face with his free hand, but at least he was smiling this time. “That’s it, I’m going to write you the world’s most sappy poem.”

Snufkin laughed, entwining their fingers. “I’ll look forward to that.”

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

Snufkin never knew his heart could feel so full. He saw everything in a new light after realizing his true feelings for his dearest friend. Every white flower reminded him of that clean, soft fur, and whenever he passed Moomin’s favorite flower—red asters—he stopped and took a moment to smell it, his mind filled with the sight and sound of Moomin’s laughter.

When he stared out at the sea he still admired how vast and unknowable it was, but now he couldn’t help but also think of Moomin swimming down to the bottom, coming back to the surface with a splash and a tale already on his lips.

When he heard the birds’ song, he smiled and remembered how many times Moomin had helped the winged creatures over the years. And when he put his harmonica to his lips to copy some of their tunes, he could picture Moomin dancing.

Part of him knew it was sort of a bad thing to be this consumed by thoughts of his new boyfriend, but he wasn’t that concerned. This was simply a new season in his life, and he was sure the thoughts and emotions would settle down just as the heat did every year. And in that same vein, he had a feeling that this giddy excitement he was feeling now would also return every year.

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

“Pumpkin stew is a special treat, don’t you think?” Moomin asked, kneeling beside Snufkin’s campfire and stirring the food they’d made together. Red and orange leaves were strewn all around them, with the setting sun behind them and the occasional cold breeze blowing past, causing just a slight shiver.

“It is special,” Snufkin agreed, sitting on a log nearby with a calm smile on his face. “Except for that one year Moominmamma grew the largest pumpkin I’d ever seen. I think we were all sick of the stuff after that year.”

Moomin laughed and shook his head. “Little My especially—I can’t believe she slept inside that thing for a month!”

“She’s a special one.” Snufkin chuckled, tipping his hat back. “Come and sit; let the stew simmer for a bit.”

Moomin nodded, shifting to stand on his feet so he could come over and sit next to Snufkin. Their hands came together almost instinctively, and Snufkin closed his eyes to fully enjoy the moment.

“Snufkin?”

“Yes, my dove?”

Moomin laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because doves are a symbol of peace and love.” Snufkin opened his eyes, turning his head to smile at him. “I think that suits you.”

Moomin has that increasingly familiar blush on his cheeks, along with a flattered smile. “Well, thank you. I do quite like it.”

“I thought you might.” Snufkin took off his hat, placing it to the side as he rested his head on Moomin’s shoulder. “Was there something else you wanted to ask me?”

“Ah, yes.” Moomin cleared his throat before letting his head lean against Snufkin’s. “I wanted to talk about the winter. It’s almost here, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” Snufkin sighed, another chilly breeze rolling over them just then. He’d already felt the call to wandering a week ago. “Soon you’ll be hibernating, and I’ll be off on my own for awhile.”

“Oh!” Moomin actually sounded relieved. “So you are still planning on going.”

Snufkin creased his eyebrows together, confused at that response. “Why wouldn’t I go?”

Moomin’s chuckle was just a little more nervous than usual. “Maybe it was silly to think, but I was starting to worry that… well, since our relationship had changed, I’d wondered if your traveling plans had changed.”

“Worry?” Snufkin has to lift his head, pinning Moomin with a baffled expression. “It almost sounds like you want me to leave.”

“Well of course I don’t want that,” Moomin started to clarify, glancing away shyly. “I’ll admit, even just two years ago I would have rejoiced at the thought of you staying with me in winter. But… traveling is an important part of who you are, and I wouldn’t want to change that. Even if we’ve changed.”

Snufkin wasn’t sure how long he sat there, just staring at Moomin. All he knew was that a fire was blazing in his chest, and he was sure it was making his face as red as smoldering embers.

“Did that make sense?” Moomin was obviously starting to worry the longer Snufkin stared at him. “I just don’t want to hold you back, and I feel closer to you than ever before but I know that you travel every year, but you hadn’t said anything about leaving this winter yet so I wanted to be sure you were still going, and I’m sorry if I’d ever tried to stop you from leaving in the past—“ he was silenced with a kiss to his cheek.

“It makes sense,” Snufkin whispered, smiling at how Moomin’s ears twitched from the low sound. “And I feel lucky to have someone that knows me so well.”

Moomin’s tail curled around Snufkin’s waist as he tried to gather his words. “Well, I, ah—you’re welcome?”

Snufkin smiled wider, placing his hands on Moomin’s shoulders before nuzzling his nose against his cheek. “While it’s true I still need to leave, up until that moment I want to spend every second with you.”

“G-good.” Moomin swallowed thickly, his arms coming around to loosely wrap around Snufkin’s waist. “Too, I want that. I mean, I would like that very much.”

Snufkin laughed, getting up for just a second before sitting back down in Moomin’s lap, his head resting against Moomin’s shoulder as he ran his fingers through the white expanse of his chest. He smiled at the way Moomin tightened his own grip around him, resting his snout on top of Snufkin’s head. “We’ve had many adventures together, Moomintroll,” he hummed, closing his eyes. “But I’d say traversing this new way of being together has been the most exciting.”

“And slightly terrifying.”

“All good things are.”

Moomin snorted, squeezing Snufkin gently. “I suppose they are.”

Snufkin chuckled, teasing, “Do you think I’m terrifying?”

“Sometimes. When I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“Well, what do you think is going through my mind right now?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re very preoccupied with the softness of my fur.”

Snufkin laughed again, since his fingers were currently entangled right by Moomin’s shoulder. “Can you blame me?”

“Absolutely not.” Moomin lifted his head just so he could nuzzle his snout against Snufkin’s forehead. “But, I think the stew is starting to burn.”

“Let it burn.”

“Snufkin!” Moomin laughed then, and Snufkin lavished in being able to feel the vibrations from the forceful sound course through him. “We have to eat.”

“We can eat later.”

“What if you climbed onto my back? Then at least I could get up to stir it.”

“Oh, fine.” Snufkin sighed dramatically, slowly righting himself from his curled up position. He kissed the tip of Moomin’s snout before standing, grinning at how pink Moomin became. “You really are too adorable,” he hummed, mainly to himself, before walking around and climbing onto Moomin’s back.

“O-oh!” Moomin seemed surprised as Snufkin’s arms wrapped around his neck, and his legs wrapped around his middle. “You’re really doing it.”

“You offered, remember.” Snufkin settled, letting his head rest against his own arm and the right side of Moomin’s neck.

“I know.” Moomin chuckled, slowly standing so he could be sure Snufkin wouldn’t fall. “I guess I’m just still not used to how affectionate you are in private.”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.” Snufkin clung tighter as Moomin stepped towards the campfire. “Besides, you’re keeping me warm from the autumn chill.”

“Ah, so there’s the truth,” Moomin joked, laughing again as he stirred the pot. “I’m nothing more than a large heater!”

“If that’s how you want to think of it. But I don’t go around kissing heaters, you know.”

Moomin almost dropped the spoon into the pot, and Snufkin couldn’t stop himself from snickering.

“I swear you say these things just to see me flustered!”

“Would it be such a bad thing if I was?”

Moomin took a second to think of his response. “No,” he decided firmly, turning his head to nuzzle against Snufkin’s cheek. “I rather like it, actually.”

“Good.” Snufkin closed his eyes, smiling as he nuzzled back. “Because you really are too fun to tease.”

The two smiled at each other then, and soon they were sitting together with bowls of stew in their hands, eating and laughing together as they reminisced over the past year. Moomin admitted that he’d still be sad to see Snufkin go, but he’d feel better knowing Snufkin made snow-statues of him. And Snufkin said he’d no doubt be thinking of Moomin often, and that he hoped he’d make some appearances in Moomin’s hibernating dreams.

After their meal, they stayed up awhile to stargaze, either hand in hand or cuddled close. They’d stayed up so late, in fact, that Moomin just had to spend the rest of the night in Snufkin’s tent—he couldn’t very well travel in such darkness, could he?

#snufmin #springdove #moomin #snufkin #moominvalley #moomins #I had a lot of fun with this #self-indulgent #annzy writes

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ask-the-riders · 4 years ago

Text

Connection

Ok,, I know this starts off at a weird spot, but it's supposed to show the end of the meeting that Death had with Connie and Ret to tell them about their relation

It then progresses to a midpoint in their relationship after they've had time to completely process the information and get more comfortable with each other, and then at the end, we see them acting much closer than before

Also, Mortem. Mortem is in this, and lemme just say - he's really cute

Retribution felt his soul squeeze, and for a moment, he was at a complete loss. Seeing the look on his face, Death paused, allowing him a minute to process everything he'd just been told. As the former prince slowly lifted his gaze to look at Conquest, he couldn't help but stare; she... she was his brother. Or rather, a reincarnation of him. His thoughts were racing and he absentmindedly moved a hand, his fingers tracing along Dream's crown, which he'd carefully hooked over the strap of his satchel.

Conquest finally noticed the look he wore and she frowned, her voice soft, "Retribution?... Are you alright? You don't look so good." The rider in question drew in a shaky, deep breath, nodding slowly, "Yeah... I'm alright, Connie. Just in a bit of shock, is all." She nodded back, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "I can understand... It's a big surprise for me, too." Ret shifted his gaze away from her, furrowing his brow bones, "I just... I can't believe it's true. I had suspicions, obviously, but I didn't think they'd ever amount to anything."

The female rider hummed softly in understanding, her hand sliding down his arm to delicately hold his hand, "Even if I'm in a different body now and don't remember what happened in my last life, would you still see me as your brother?..." Retribution blinked in surprise at the question, allowing her to hold his hand as he spoke, his response almost immediate, "No, I would not." Conquest's sockets widened, and upon feeling her sadness, Retribution looked back at her again.

She began to slowly pull her hand away from his, but froze as he tightened his grip minutely and cleared his throat, his cyan eye lights meeting her golden-orange ones, "Connie, I cannot see you as my brother, and it's because you're no longer a guy. You're a girl." Seeing the confusion she wore, he offered her a tiny, somewhat awkward smile, "Since you're a girl now, that'd make you my sister. Not my brother."

Conquest stared at him for a moment in silence, and as his words finally clicked into place, orange tinted tears pricked at her sockets, and she practically tore her hand away from his, only to throw her arms around him and pull him into a tight hug. Despite how her soul itself was almost weeping in joy and relief, and in turn caused his own soul to begin burning the smallest bit, he returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her tightly. As she buried her face in his shoulder and started to cry softly, he felt something roll down his face. Lifting a hand to touch it, he looked at his now wetted fingertips, blinking at the cyan tears he saw; so this was happiness, huh? It was so warm... and it was a different kind of happiness than he felt when he was with Famine.

It was entirely foreign to him in the way it felt, but he didn't try to push it away this time. Almost clinging to Conquest, he allowed his walls to crumble and come crashing down, attempting to muffle his voice as he began to cry as well.

Some time had passed since then, and Retribution had allowed Conquest to come and go from his room as she pleased. Whenever she needed something, the door was open. At the moment, the two were sitting together in some passive AU, enjoying the soft breeze as it drifted by them. Conquest was lying in the grass, reading from a book she'd brought, and Retribution had busied himself with tending to a small garden he'd started a while back. The flowers within it were all in bloom, their beautiful colors all on display, while some of the others even bore berries.

He sat beside her in the grass, placing down a pouch he'd filled with various berries from the garden. Glancing from him to the pouch of berries, she marked the page in her book and tucked it away, sitting up and letting out a soft sigh as she stretched her arms. Ret glanced at her as he noticed her hand dip into the pouch, withdrawing some of it's contents. Without even really giving much thought as to what was in her hand, she popped each of them into her mouth and ate them, entirely at ease.

Retribution rolled his eye lights at her carelessness, leaning back onto his hands to look up at the baby blue sky, taking a deep breath in, and then slowly exhaling. For the first time in centuries, he felt as though he was at peace with the world around him. Noticing how relaxed he was, Connie smiled to herself, mimicking him and leaning back onto her hands to look at the sky.

A moment passed in blissful silence before she casually spoke, "Hey, um... You don't have to answer if it's too personal or if it's upsetting at all, but I was wondering - you're a version of Nightmare, right? How come you don't have tentacles like he does?" Retribution was briefly caught off guard, trying to remain calm and passive as he hummed, "The tentacles are part of his corruption, which he seems to enjoy flaunting and waving in people's faces. I have some corruption issues as well, but I've gotten better at managing and hiding them. That's why you don't see me with tentacles."

Looking over at him, she tilted her head in curiosity, "You do have them then?" Ret nodded and made a soft sound of confirmation, "I do. They don't look like you're probably expecting, but I do have them." Conquest decided to press further after a few seconds, "...If it's not too much trouble... do you think I could see them? Pretty please, Retribution?" Narrowing his sockets at the female skeleton, he began trying to convince himself to tell her no, to deny the request. As she stared at him with those wide eyes of hers, however, he felt his ability to say no rapidly dwindling.

She reached out to gently tug on his sleeve, still giving him her infamous kicked puppy stare, and he let out a deep sigh, finally caving. His cheekbones flushed a faint shade of cyan as his tendrils finally materialized, almost entirely transparent and completely smooth. Taking notice as one of the appendages gently curled around her forearm, her sockets widened and she stared, silent for a moment.

Slowly raising a hand, she very cautiously touched one, a smile stretching across her face as it wrapped itself loosely around her hand, careful not to hurt her. A third tendril, clearly unhappy with not being included so far, slithered around Retribution to nudge his face. He scowled, the harshness of his gaze causing the tendril to slowly retreat. In what seemed to be some sort of act of rebellion, the tendril lowered itself and quickly snatched the crown from it's place around the strap of his satchel. Before he could even form an appropriate response, the crown - Dream's crown, at that - was placed atop Conquest's head.

The female rider briefly froze, visibly startled. She reached up to carefully touch it, and Retribution stared at her with widened sockets, buzzing with a combination of anger, annoyance, shock, disbelief, and fear. Conquest, upon noticing his reaction, was immediately concerned, a frown now on her face. Very carefully removing the crown, she silently offered it to him, and he accepted it with a shaky hand.

Even more time passed since then, and Ret and Connie had become more comfortable around each other, finally acting as their true selves when they were together. Retribution assumed that he'd figured her out and could read her like a book, but it seemed he was wrong.

She caught him by surprise, lightly knocking on his bedroom door and entering after a moment, then closing it behind herself. Well aware of who had entered his room, the former prince set down his pen, using a piece of scarlet ribbon to mark his page. Looking up at Conquest, he immediately took notice of the almost sheepish look she wore, arching a brow bone. Clearing her throat, she smiled slightly and offered him a hand, as if to help him up, "I... really should've done it sooner, but I didn't want to overwhelm you. As long as I'm not interrupting anything and you have some free time, I would like you to come with me."

Ret's inner alarms began to go off and he hesitantly took her hand, slowly standing, "What are you talking about, Connie? Where do you intend to take me?" The female skeleton lightly ran her free hand over her head, "I just... There's someone I really want you to meet, is all. Would you be ok with that, or?..." Letting out a deep sigh and making it obvious that he was less than enthused, he nodded, "Sure, why not. I'll probably have to meet them eventually anyway, so we might as well just get it over with."

Conquest lit up, a smile on her face as she threw her arms around him in a hug, ignoring the face he made at the sudden contact. Seeing the joyful look she wore, he couldn't help but smile faintly to himself. Although born into a different body, this was almost exactly the same Dream he remembered from so many years ago.

They teleported together, appearing in a completely different place than they'd been before. Being under the direct sunlight hurt his eyes, being so much more intense than the dim lighting of his bedroom, and he had to squint, attempting to shield his sockets. Connie unwrapped her arms from around him, her hand lightly snagging his sleeve and tugging him toward a small hut, and he blindly followed her, trying to let his eyes adjust.

Staring at the ground as he did so, he noticed something peculiar - there wasn't any grass. Only what looked like clay and sand. Once his eyes adjusted and he could see again, he lifted his gaze to look around them. He could see a decent sized fountain in what he assumed was the center of the town, along with a few trees scattered around the place. The town was eerily silent, and showed no signs of life that he was aware of.

How strange.

Reaching their destination, Connie released his sleeve to make some sort of sign with her hands, in turn causing a symbol that was carved into the door to briefly flicker. Retribution was silent as he watched, very openly intrigued, and Conquest paid him no mind. Her soul manifested before her, and she allowed it to drift toward the door, pressing itself to the very center of the symbol. Everything was quiet for a few seconds before there was a click and the door slowly swung open, Ret blinking in surprise. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting in the first place, but it definitely wasn't that.

Her soul returned to its proper place and she let out a soft sigh of relief, looking back at the former prince and offering him a small smile, her voice low, "Come on inside, Retribution. It's alright, I promise." He nodded slowly as he stepped forward, his movements careful and precise as he slipped inside the house and curiously looked around, murmuring softly, "What is this place?..."

Conquest followed him inside, gently closing the door behind herself and humming, "This is... This used to be my home. The one I lived in before I lived with you and the others." Retribution nodded slowly in understanding, taking in his surroundings; right now, it looked as though they'd entered straight into a living room. There was a small sofa and a tv, though it's screen was cracked, and a few tall lamps around the room, perhaps to make up for the absense of an overhead light. A potted plant sat in the far corner beside a small shelf that looked like it contained maybe a couple dozen movies.

He began to approach the center of the room, pausing as he felt something beneath his foot. Looking down and tilting his head, he made a face. Leaning down to scoop up the small stuffed rabbit he'd just accidentally stepped on, he quietly looked it over. Feeling satisfied after a moment, he very gently placed it on the back of the couch. Hearing movement, he looked up as Conquest strode past him, a focused look on her face.

Arching a brow bone, he followed her, remaining silent as he was led up a set of stairs. Dragging her open palm against the wall as she moved, she suddenly stopped without warning, nearly causing the other skeleton to bump into her. Ret quietly observed her as she dug her fingertips into the wall and twisted some unseen device, in turn causing a hidden door to open. Without wasting a single second, she slipped through the opening and once again, he followed, momentarily startled as the door closed behind him.

The pair made their way back down another set of stairs, entering into a well lit space that included a table and chairs, a tv and what looked to be a game system, and another shelf, this one loaded with children's toys.

Clearing her throat, she called out, "Mortem, Glo, I'm back!" There was a thud as something was dropped on the floor, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps. A door was nearly thrown open and a skeleton child darted toward Conquest without an ounce of hesitation, wearing a wide smile, "Mama!" Conquest laughed softly and scooped him up into her arms, also smiling widely, "Oh goodness, I guess you really missed me, huh?" The child nodded and wrapped his arms around her neck, cuddling close to her, "Uh huh! Glo wasn't being very nice to me, mom!"

As a slender blue and pink fire elemental finally emerged into the room, Conquest arched a brow bone, trying to hide a grin as she took a stern tone, "Glo, were you being mean again?" In response, the fire elemental placed her hands on her hips, sighing melodramatically, "I would never! I can't believe you'd fall for such lies!" Connie snorted in amusement, looking back to her son, "What was she doing that wasn't very nice, Morty?" Mortem made a face, his tone accusing, "She took away my uno reverse cards and wouldn't share her cappuccino with me. I even said please, too!" The fire elemental, who Retribution assumed was 'Glo', waved off the skeleton child's words, "Oh whatever, pint size. You're not allowed to have caffeine, and you know that."

Conquest raised a brow bone again, this time at her son, "Mortem... Were you really trying to sucker her into giving you coffee?" The child's cheekbones flushed a soft shade of orange and he donned a guilty smile, "....No?" The female rider rolled her eye lights, unable to help smiling, "Uh huh, just as I thought. You're not a good fibber. That's ok though, neither is your dad." Clearly amused, Mortem's grin slowly widened and he pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to hide a giggle.

Retribution felt his gaze softening the smallest bit, only to jerk in surprise as Glo appeared before him, her hands still on her hips, "Well hey there, stranger. Have we met? Because there's something weirdly familiar about you." Ret stared at her, momentarily baffled, "I... don't think we have, actually." The fire elemental hummed, her flames crackling softly and resembling the sounds produced by a campfire. And then she pointed a finger gun at him and grinned shamelessly, enough so for him to see, "Are you sure? 'Cause I swear I've seen you in my dreams before."

As her comment began to sink in, the former prince's cheekbones gained a faint cyan blush. He floundered for a response, visibly flustered, and Glo couldn't hide her giggles, her body relaxing as she shook her head, "Not used to flirting, I see. That's alright. I'm fine with taking things slow, too." She paused and offered him one of her hands, and upon recognizing the gesture, he offered a hand back. Glo shook his hand, taking a moment to run her other hand up part of his sleeve and let out a low whistle, "Damn... Are you a prince or something? I haven't seen anyone wear anything this high quality in a long time..." She trailed off, seeming to catch herself after a moment, "Anyways, what's your name, cutie? Mine's Glo."

Pulling his hand back away from her once he saw an opportunity, his blush became slightly brighter and he cleared his throat, "My name is Retribution. It's a pleasure to meet you, Glo."

Glo's flames crackled again and she grinned, tilting her head, "So you're a total cutie that's like... rich or something, and you've got manners too? Man," she paused again, glancing at Connie, "where do you find guys like this, missy? Whatever your secret is, please tell me. I gotta snag me a guy like this one." Conquest laughed softly, playfully flicking her orange ecto tongue at the other female, "Oh stop it, Glo! He's my brother, it's not like I just picked him up from somewhere." Glo blinked in surprise, looking between the two adult skeletons and gesturing to both of them, becoming visibly confused, "Uh, hold on a sec. Your BROTHER? Since when did you have a brother?! He doesn't even look like you!"

Connie rolled her eye lights, sighing softly, "It's a long story, but it's completely true. We'd have to set up a lunch date or something in order for me to be able to tell you the full thing." The fire elemental scoffed, "How come you can't do it now? You got a hot date that I don't know about?" The female rider laughed and shook her head, "It's called 'work', Glo. That, and I need to keep an eye on my teammates."

Despite not having clear, defined facial features, it was plainly obvious how unimpressed Glo was, "...It's D, isn't it? You gotta be back because D's keepin' you on a schedule?" Connie hummed in confirmation, shifting the child in her arms, "Sort of. There's more to it than just that." While the two women went back and forth, Mortem peeked at Retribution curiously. Ret briefly met his gaze, arching a brow bone and tilting his head as he watched the child quickly look away.

When there was a pause in the conversation and Glo excused herself to go pick up one of the rooms in the house, Connie sighed, gently setting Mortem back on the ground and smiling apologetically at Ret, "Sorry for her... She's a talker, if you hadn't noticed yet." The former prince let out a deep sigh of his own, "She certainly is. She's also quite flirtatious too, it seems."

Connie grinned, playfully nudging him, "Mmn no, not really. From what I've seen she's only done that to you. You have to admit, she's cute." Retribution blankly stared at the other rider for a moment before grumbling, "I think I'll pass on admitting anything, thank you very much." Conquest's expression seemed to soften as she eased up on the teasing, "I know, I know. You're head over heels for Famine. I was only teasing you, Retribution."

Ret's blush visibly darkened and he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing away from her. Rolling her eye lights, Conquest shrugged off his response. Proceeding to offer him another small smile, she then gently nudged Mortem closer to him, "Anways, back to the reason I asked you to come with me. Retribution, this is your nephew, Mortem." Gently squeezing her son's shoulder and trying to give him some encouragement, she addressed him, "And Mortem, this is your uncle, Retribution."

Ret's gaze lowered itself to the child before him and he felt his body freeze in place. Despite the eye patch and familiar black robes, this child looked just like his mother, and therefore, also just like Dream. Conquest murmured something to Mortem, and he slowly nodded, his sockets wide as he nervously stepped forward, holding a small hand out for Retribution to shake. The rider watched him quietly for a brief moment before sinking to the floor. Now kneeling instead of standing, he very gently shook Mortem's hand, offering the child an awkward smile, "Hello, Mortem. Your mom's told me a bunch of things about you before, and I'm glad to finally meet you."

Mortem tilted his head, his nervousness slowly converting into curiosity, "What did she say about me?..." Ret shrugged, attempting to remain calm and casual, "Oh, not much. Only that you were a very good kid, and how much she loves you." Mortem's cheekbones dusted a soft shade of orange and he grinned, almost bashfully, "Yeah?" Ret hummed in confirmation, nodding and continuing to smile, "Mmhm. She says you're a wonderful child, although sometimes, you're a little hyper and wild. She also told me why you're not supposed to have coffee, too."

Mortem's orange blush grew slightly darker and he looked up at Conquest, "Mama? How come you never told me that I have an uncle?" Connie sighed softly, also kneeling on the floor now, "I didn't tell you anything because I actually didn't know I had a brother until just recently. I spent some time getting to know him, and even though he looks like a weirdo, he's nice, I promise." Her tone was playful and she'd met Retribution's gaze as she'd called him a weirdo, and the corners of his mouth curled into a tiny grin as he rolled his eye lights.

If Mortem was anything like his mother, then getting to know him better would be nothing short of interesting. Maybe even amusing, as well

#writing #four horsemen of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au #riders of the apocalypse #retribution.exe #conquest.exe #morty.exe #glo.exe #i re-read this and just-#hhhhhhhhh #it could've been done better #but oh well

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

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Roguish Women Part 19

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 19: It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

Tommy was in a foul mood days after he fought with Kate. And on the day of Grace’s dinner, he came to find her office was empty. With a frown, he turned to seek out Polly.

“Where’s Kate?” He asked his aunt when he tracked her down.

“She called in.”

“Called in?” He raised an eyebrow. No one called in to say they wouldn’t be at work. Not unless they were a part of the family. Everyone was afraid to defy him. He’d had to send a man home because he came to work with the flu and on another occasion, he had to call for an ambulance to pick up a woman who had fainted in the middle of the day. “Did she give a fucking reason?”

“She said she didn’t want to deal with you today,” Polly replied exactly what Kate had told her over the phone.

“Didn’t want-her job is to deal with me.” He got agitated and his voice started to rise.

His aunt recognized the warning signs of a Shelby tantrum so she pointed at a chair near her desk. “Sit and talk.” She ordered.

Tommy didn’t appreciate being spoken to like a child but listened and sat down. “Talk about what?” Even without knowing the topic of conversation, he knew he would need a smoke. So, he grabbed his pack out of his pocket.

“You and Kate. You’ve been at each other’s throats for weeks. She looks at you like you killed her mother and you look at her like she’s broken your heart.” Polly perched on the edge of her desk, looking at her nephew expectantly. “Out with it.”

There weren’t many times Tommy didn’t trust Polly. In fact, many people in the world wouldn’t get the same level of respect he had for her. So, he trusted her not to go gossiping about anything he told her. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes and let out a long sigh. “A few weeks ago, she got drunk on absinthe at the Garrison. John brought her to my place to sleep it off. She was talking about all sorts then she just…she said she loved me.”

Polly put a hand to her mouth. Not because she was very shocked, but because she had sensed something between the two. But she thought it was just some odd thought. She wasn’t willing to play childish games though so she lowered her hand and resumed a firm stance. “And? What did you say?”

“Polly, I’m married with a child on the way. What am I supposed to say?”

“Tommy.” She spoke slowly. “There’s no baby.” She was brave to say such a thing when she knew it was an instant trigger for him.

Her nephew stood up with a fury. His eyes narrowed. “No talk of the baby tonight.” He warned. “Be there on time, be respectful to Grace, and enough about doubting her. This is her night and I won’t have me family gossiping about her.”

Polly sighed. There wasn’t anything else she could say to him. So, she didn’t say a word, letting him leave when the silence continued.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few days of struggling with a decision for Kate. That’s why she ended up not going to work the day of Grace’s dinner. She couldn’t handle the conflict she had in her head.

The day after her argument, flowers were sent to her flat. Kate panicked for a second, wondering if they were from Santo, the Changrettas, or anyone else looking to threaten her. But she was met with a brush of relief when she read the card. Which was strange because it was Grace’s name on the card. She wasn’t sure she would be relieved to see her name. But it was far better than any alternative.

Taking the flowers inside, Kate read the full card that was tucked between a lovely arrangement of yellow and white roses.

Kate,

Tommy said you were considering not attending the dinner this Friday. I would miss your absence, as would Tommy. We hope you change your mind and attend, there will always be a seat open for you.

Warmest Regards,

Grace Shelby.

Kate set the flowers down on her kitchen table and flipped the small card between her fingers. The words ran over and over in her head. In a twisted way, she wanted Grace to despise her. It would only make Kate’s life easier, at least that’s what she thought. If Grace hated her, then she had a reason to retaliate. But if Grace took the high road, then Kate looked the fool. Still, she was sure that Tommy didn’t indulge his wife in the information about their previous conversations. So why should Grace hate her?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the life she wanted. Pining after a married man. Even if it turned out that Grace was lying about the pregnancy, Tommy was too in love with her. He would see her through it. Maybe later on they would have a child together. They’d be the family that Tommy wanted.

It was what Kate would never have. And she thought that she’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

Alfie’s words from weeks ago echoed in her head.

We’re creatures of the underground, we can’t afford to love.

She had nothing to give Tommy Shelby. That would never change.

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

Kate arrived fashionably late. But that was only because she was still having doubts about whether she wanted to go. She could make her peace with the idea that she would never have Tommy. She could accept Grace’s gesture and leave it be. But that didn’t mean she had to go and socialize with everyone. In fact, her gut was telling her to stay inside. Don nothing but a dressing gown and drink her reserves of liquor.

But that damn dress kept calling her name. A beautiful beaded gown that she’d bought for the occasion, before the last argument with Tommy, when she fully intended on going to the function.

It was such a shame to waste a dress, although Kate was certain she would find another place to wear it if she somewhat stayed in Tommy’s good graces. But she realized to do that, she would have to go to the dinner.

So, she donned the gown and hitched a ride to the Midland Hotel. And even she was surprised to see the turnout. Well, surprised wasn’t the right word. She wasn’t blind to Tommy’s immense efforts of throwing his name in everyone’s faces and refusing to let them forget it. Now it seemed the hard work was really paying off. She bet he didn’t have to threaten anyone to go, well…except for her.

A man by the door took her coat as she walked in. The ballroom was stunning with a golden-white glow to everything. Chandeliers of glittering stones hung low in the room, sparkling over the jovial guests. Everyone was dressed to the nines as if they were in New York or London. But it was still Birmingham and everyone was doing their best to look the part for Grace and Tommy Shelby.

Grace caught sight of Kate entering from the front and came over to greet her. “I’m so glad you made it.” She smiled. “I was hoping you’d get my letter in time.”

It didn’t help Kate’s cause that Grace looked like a movie star in her pearl-colored dress and furs. The icing on the cake was an enormous sapphire necklace that she wore like a queen. All Kate could only swallow her pride and smile. “It was a kind gesture; the flowers were beautiful. I’m sorry if there was any misunderstanding with Tommy and me. I never wanted it to interrupt this night for you.”

“Not at all!” Grace touched her shoulder with a satin gloved hand. “I just knew Tommy wanted his closest people here.”

She exhaled slowly and bit her tongue before replying. “We work well together. I’ll always be here for him.”

Grace smiled and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, Kate, I need to step away for a moment. Dinner will be starting soon, so please enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks.” She nodded and went to hunt down a flute of champagne.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate found John to chat with while they waited for dinner. She wouldn’t associate with any of the rich donors, that was more than she could stomach in one night. But even as she spoke to Ada, she kept an eye on the room around them. It was a force of habit, and a smart one in her opinion.

During a subtle scan, she noticed Tommy for the first time. He was standing with Grace and another dark-haired woman in a beaded, taupe dress. Her suspicions raised when Tommy leaned forward to kiss this woman’s hand.

Tommy Shelby wouldn’t kiss anyone’s hand unless it was expected of him. Meaning, rank, royalty even.

“John, who is that talking to Tommy?” Kate directed his attention.

“Oh, that’s that fucking duchess. Heard she’s crazy.” He replied without much thought of the matter.

“Duchess?” She scoffed. “What on Earth is Tommy doing with a duchess?”

“Not just that, she’s Russian.”

“A Russian duchess, you’d think he would mention that earlier.” She muttered into her drink.

There wasn’t much time after that. Kate turned away from Tommy and the duchess. That was something they could address later; she was dealing with one thing at a time. Then, she heard a man call for a loyalty toast to the king.

Kate cleared her throat and rolled her eyes slightly as she raised her glass with the rest of the party-goers. She wasn’t loyal and she could bet a high percentage of the people weren’t loyal either. They were loyal to money.

As people were filing towards the dinner hall, there was a quick commotion before two words were shouted.

“For Angel!”

The gunshot made Kate duck before she realized what was going on. Most of the attendees were quick to run for the exit, screaming and shouting to add to the fray.

Kate and the rest of the Peaky Blinders rushed toward the scene. When enough people cleared, she finally understood what happened.

Grace had slumped to the ground in Tommy’s arms. Her face a frozen look of a daze as she loosely held onto her husband’s upper arm. Tommy was shouting for an ambulance, his hand over his wife’s heart, trying to contain the bleeding from the bullet wound.

There was a man on the ground, being swarmed by the Shelby brothers.

Polly rushed by Kate, in a rippling of blush pink satin.

Kate staggered forward and met Tommy’s eyes. They both had the same look of horror and disbelief. She went to Grace’s other side, just acting out of instinct. She had no idea what else to do. Her ears were ringing with the sound of Tommy’s screams and the sounds of the brother’s caving in the shooter’s head.

Her hands shook as she slipped off Grace’s fur and pushed Tommy’s hand away from the wound. Her heart was pounding as she pressed to try and stem the bleeding.

But it didn’t seem to be of much use. Grace was slipping away before their eyes. Her eyes were starting to glaze over. Her face turning an ashen shade.

Kate didn’t notice, but she started to rock back and forth as tears slipped down her cheeks. She continued holding the fur shawl to the wound, but the elegant garment wasn’t meant to soak up blood. Soon, dark red began to saturate the pale color and seeped through Kate’s gloves.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The entire Shelby family waited in the hospital. After consulting with the doctor, Polly came back with the news.

“She’s gone. They didn’t even have a pulse when she arrived.” She reported somberly.

“Where’s Tom?” Arthur asked.

“Out back. I think it’s a good idea for him to be alone right now.” She replied.

Kate felt like if she moved, it would just be proof that she wasn’t in a nightmare. Once she moved, it confirmed that she truly was living this unspeakable night. Even still, she stood up and moved to leave the hospital.

“Kate, I really wouldn’t...” Ada warned.

But she didn’t listen and kept walking out the door. She circled the building looking for where Tommy went.

Around the back, she found him sat on the steps leading to a door. It was dark, but she could see him hunched over his knees. Still dressed in his tuxedo, he looked out of place. But it was where he was. A broken man with his wife’s blood staining the cuffs of his crisp, white shirt. Both of his hands were gripping onto his hair as if he was trying to grab onto reality again.

“Tom.” Kate couldn’t muster more than a whisper.

He didn’t even move a muscle. His shoulders were heaving unevenly. And she knew why. Neither of them could breathe. Suddenly the air wasn’t suitable for them anymore, their lungs weren’t compatible. They couldn’t get enough air in. They were gasping for something. Something more.

“Tommy.” She stepped toward him.

“It was meant for me.” His voice was muffled but it was loud enough for her to hear. “That fucking bullet was meant for me.”

Kate knew it was. Sure, Grace had her past but it was Tommy who racked up the enemies. Maybe he didn’t kill Angel, but he was the orchestrator. And their enemies were smart enough to know that. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done…”

“It was fucking meant for me!” Tommy lifted his head to shout at her. His eyes were red from crying and he looked two inches away from a complete breakdown.

Her lower lip quivered. Not because he was shouting at her, but because of the overwhelming feeling of guilt that blanketed over her like steel. Crippling her. “You know that if I had the chance…I would’ve taken it for her. I never wanted-I never wanted her-” She couldn’t get the word out. Saying it would make it so.

Tommy shook his head and violently ripped at his bow tie, tearing it from around his neck. “No, I should’ve been the one. I’m meant to be dead. I should be fucking dead, Kate!” He shouted.

“But you’re not!” She grabbed his wrist to keep him from hurting himself by tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “You’re alive and you have things that you need to do. You have a family you need to take care of now!”

He fought against her, trying to pull from her grip but she wrestled him back.

“Stop it!” She snapped. “She’s gone. We can assign blame or we can remedy this. We’ll get the bastards that did this and make them pay! That’s how we do things so that’s what we’ll do now!” Tears streamed down her face as Tommy went weak in her grip.

His blue eyes were filled with tears too. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” His voice wasn’t more than a whisper. The strength had been siphoned out, there was nothing more than what Grace had left. Everything else of him, she’d taken with her.

“I know.” Kate swallowed and loosened her hold on him. “I know it wasn’t.”

Permanent Tag: I’m so sorry I’m spamming you guys. @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence

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carolmaximoffs · 5 years ago

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THE GOOD DOCTOR

CHAPTER NINE

Ch. Summary: Thea loses herself after losing those closest to her, but like always, Steve saves the day.

Warnings: avengers infinity war spoilers, cursing, endgame spoilers

Pairings: Sam Wilson x WOC

A/N: i’m not happy with this chapter, but i just don’t see myself getting to a place where i am happy with it BECAUSE of the way i changed the ending of civil war...i just wanted to write bonky and steeb i should’ve known better. anyways this is the last chapter with any real plot. maybe someday i’ll rewrite it on AO3 who knows.

Taglist: @marvelousmrstark @annathesillyfriend

WHEN SHE GETS THE CALL, Thea’s on a picnic with Sam. It’s an unknown number, but thankfully, it’s a familiar voice. However, any relief at hearing Bruce Banner is back is quickly squandered by what he tells her.

“Are you kidding me?” She practically shrieks. Sam’s a little ways away on a blanket, eyeing her curiously. “Dr. Banner, please tell me you’re kidding.”

Thea covers the receiver and shuffles closer to her beau. “Tony just got kidnapped by aliens.”

“We’re in the middle of a date,” Sam whines. Thea glares at him, motioning for him to pack up as she goes back to her conversation.

Had she known this would have been one of her last moments with Sam for awhile, she might’ve given in to his complaints and finished what they started.

When Sam tells her he has to go to Wakanda, she kisses him deeply, tells him to come home safe, and call her when he landed. When only Nat, Rhodey, and Steve step off the Quinjet, Thea’s hands shake. When Natasha tells her what happened, Thea feels the familiar feeling of her world shattering.

FIVE YEARS LATER

“YOU NEVER THINK that the last time is...the last time.” The group is nodding, huddled together around a corner table in the otherwise vacant restaurant. “I...I told him to call me when he landed. It’s kind of our thing? And he...he called me. But I never got to tell him I loved him. And now I...I probably won’t ever get to.”

Thea bites her lip, fighting tears as Steve quietly thanks her for sharing. He started this ‘support group’ a little over a year ago. Thea thinks it’s because he was at such a goddamn loss as to what to do, but she showed up tonight nonetheless. After a few more words, people begin to file out, until it’s just Steve and Thea left. They sit in silence, and Thea is just about to go home herself when Steve speaks.

“He knew.” Thea’s head snaps up, and she finds the blond already looking at her. Pale blue eyes bore into brown as Thea swallows a sob.

“No, he didn’t. He didn’t know, Steve, and he never will.” She doesn’t mean to be so harsh; she feels guilty as soon as she sees the hurt flash across Steve’s face, but Thea is already out the door before she even thinks about apologizing.

She’s moved back into her old apartment. Nobody else had moved in during her months with the Avengers, and the Compound was too painful. It was too empty. So here she is, only half of her furniture back at her place, the rest left at the compound, even 5 years later. ‘Just in case she changed her mind’ - that was what Steve had said when he helped her move.

She knows she won’t, not unless Sam and Wanda and the others miraculously came back. Her apartment is pretty empty, too, but not because people were literally missing from it.

In fact, Thea had almost forgotten what it was like to live alone. Often, it felt like she was dreaming, or transported back in time. She’s taken up her old job at the hospital, though there were far less patients now. She’s reconnected with old coworkers, fallen back into old habits; the only truly new development was attending Steve’s group.

In fact, Thea broke her routine only for the occasional visit to Tony and Pepper. They’d made the most of everything and gotten married, and had a baby. It was times like now, when Thea felt at her lowest, that she didn’t feel so bad about disturbing their bubble. She changed out of her scrubs, grabbed her keys, and drove until pavement became gravel and skyscrapers became trees.

It’s dark when she parks in the gravel driveway. Pepper is already making her way onto the porch, feet bare, arms open for Thea. She’d become something of an older sister, her fiery yet maternal energy comforting to Thea. Pepper has just pulled back, mouth open to presumably ask Thea how she was (as if the answer changed). A small voice from inside interrupts her, accompanied by the sound of tiny pounding feet. “Auntie Dot, Auntie Dot, Auntie Dot!”

Morgan barrels into Thea’s legs, causing her to stumble back with an ‘oof’. She recovers quickly, swinging the dark-haired child up into her arms. Thea nuzzles her nose into Morgan’s hair.

“Hi, pumpkin,” The woman greets. Weary as she may be, Morgan Stark never failed to bring a grin to her face. Pepper quickly waves her in, and with Morgan balanced on her hip, she follows the strawberry-blonde into her kitchen. Morgan squirms for only a moment before tucking her face comfortably into Thea’s braids; Pepper sets about making some tea. Thea is almost overwhelmed with the warm feeling blooming in her chest. All too soon, Morgan is ushered off to bed, and Pepper levels Thea with a solemn look.

“Did you go?” She asks, and Thea lets out a groan, dropping her head to the tabletop. Pepper swats at her arm. “I’m serious, Dorothea. You need to talk about it with somebody, and Steve is a great start.”

“Pep, talking about it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring him back,” Thea grumbles, scowling at the use of her proper name and the subject. Pepper doesn’t reply for a long time, before finally she grasps Thea’s hands tightly.

“Thea, they will figure something out.” Pepper holds up a hand as Thea goes to argue. “Hell, even Tony’s working on it. And when they do figure it out, I promise it’ll be worth it. No matter what happens.”

Steve calls her, a couple weeks later. She hasn’t gone to any more group meetings, Pepper’s advice be damned. Work was slow, so she’s home early, curled up in her bedroom. Steve’s call startles her out of a trance, having zoned out instead of properly watching whatever chick-flick she’d queued up on TV.

“I need your help, Thea.” The Captain’s voice is almost pleading, on the edge of desperation. Thea huffs, kicking off her blankets to pace her bedroom.

“You can find me at the hospital, Steve. I don’t have leeway like I did at the compound, so I can only help if it’s surg-”

“Thea, I need your help on a mission. Possibly...possibly the biggest mission of any of our lives.” Thea wants to berate him, but he keeps going. “We’re getting them back, Thea. But it won’t be pretty. You can help with that.”

Thea wants to cry. She wants to puke, scream, burn Steve Rogers’ goddamn optimism to ash. Instead, she says, “Fine. I’m in.”

Pepper’s words echo in Thea’s head long after that night. They ring through her brain, in the middle of the most terrifying day of Thea’s life. No matter what happens she thinks, running from person to person as quickly as possible. They seem to fall like dominoes. Thea feels way out of her element, cursing Steve for all he’s worth. She can’t shake the feeling that she isn’t fast enough; she almost pukes when she hears Peter calling for her and sees Tony, slumped, eyes shut.

She wasn’t fast enough.

Pepper’s word’s remain, even weeks later, when she’s standing at the edge of Tony and Pepper’s lake, watching an arc reactor float upon flowers. No matter what happens. Even months later Thea is thinking of them, when Morgan and Pepper come to visit Wanda and Thea at the New Avengers Compound. Sam is gone on a mission with Bucky. The former was now armed with a shield, instead of wings. Her guilt haunts her, so much having changed and yet still so much is wrong; so many people are missing.

“It feels upside down, doesn’t it?” Thea muses to Pepper as they watch Morgan, enamored with Wanda’s red magic lacing flowers together in her hair. Pepper hums quietly. When Thea looks over at her, her eyes are glassy, and her thoughts are clearly far away. Thea takes her hand, loosely so Pepper can pull away, but she doesn’t. Thea squeezes. “Pep, I’m so-”

“Don’t.” Pepper’s gaze is sharp, suddenly, as she meets Thea’s eyes. “There was nothing you could have done. I...I’d rather him be at peace than be a zombie.”

Thea feels her own eyes well up at that, but the Quinjet roaring overhead distracts her. The trees shudder and she swipes at her eyes. She rises to her feet as Morgan dashes towards the compound.

“Bucky! Sammy!” Morgan cheers, blossoms spraying from her hair as she twirls. She grips Pepper’s hand eagerly, practically dragging her mother through the compound. Thea waits for Wanda, who magically sweeps the flowers away from the entrance and onto the grass. The witch smiles softly at Thea, linking their elbows.

“Everything worked out the way it was meant to, sestra,” The Sokovian murmurs as they enter the elevator with Pepper and Morgan. “It always does.”

Morgan babbles excitedly to her mother, who manages a weak smile. Wanda laces her fingers through Thea’s, a comforting new habit. The elevator begins to rise, and finally, so do Thea’s spirits.

#tgd/carolmaximoffs #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #pepper potts #morgan stark #mcu fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #fanfic

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raywritesthings · 4 years ago

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Bird in a Storm 4/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Quentin Lance, Frank Pike, Felicity Smoak Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Joanna couldn’t believe it when she first got the news. But the multiple texts from her coworkers at CNRI proved its veracity: Laurel was being forced out.

She headed over to her friend’s apartment and was let in by a surly Tommy Merlyn.

“You wouldn’t be here to talk some sense into her, would you?”

“I’m here to support my friend.” Joanna headed past him into the sitting room where Laurel looked up from her laptop.

“Hey. I guess you heard.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?” She’d meant to come by even earlier to see her after that whole incident with her injury, but they’d had family in visiting still. It didn’t keep her from feeling guilty for not being there when Laurel clearly needed someone.

She shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Just your career,” Tommy reminded them all as he passed by on his way back to the bedrooms. The door shut hard behind him.

Joanna hid a wince and took the spot next to Laurel on the couch. “Where have you been looking?”

“Everywhere?” Laurel shifted so she could look at the cover letter her friend was drafting. “It’s a little hard when I can’t talk much about my only place of employment or use them as a reference.”

“I guess your reputation of taking down corporate big shots isn’t too helpful when applying for corporate law.”

“No, it is not.”

Joanna shook her head. This was so unfair and everyone knew it. “You want me to talk to Eric?”

Laurel shook her head. “It won’t do any good. He’s under the thumb of CNRI’s backers.”

“And those backers want you to starve?”

“They want to see the Hood punished. Since they can’t do that, I guess I’m the next best thing.”

“But you’re more than just a connection to the Hood. If you hadn’t been helping me solve my brother’s murder, nobody would even know you’ve worked with him. None of this would’ve happened.” Joanna hung her head.

“I wouldn’t take it back if it meant not exposing the truth about your brother’s death. Or saving the chief. Those were good things.”

Before Joanna could answer, the bedroom door opened again and Tommy stopped in the sitting room. “I’m heading out.”

Laurel set her laptop aside and stood. “Okay. Did you want me to wait on dinner?”

“I’ll eat while I’m out.” He gave a curt nod to Joanna, then turned and headed to the front door.

Laurel wavered on the balls of her feet. “Have a good day,” she called just before the door shut.

“Does he really have to start at the club that early?”

“His hours are what he wants them to be. And right now, he does not want to be here.” Laurel sighed and dropped back down into her spot. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe… maybe you just take the deal. It’d make things a lot easier for you and your relationship,” she pointed out. It was the practical choice. The safe one. But she knew Laurel was rarely interested in safe or practical.

Her friend looked at her. “Jo, you know as well as I do what lying about the Hood would look like to our clients.”

She grimaced. That was a hard point to refute. Laurel was good at what she did precisely because of the trust she garnered in their clients. They really believed she was willing to put everything on the line in the name of justice. The time had come to prove she was.

“There is one thing about CNRI,” Laurel told her. “Thea. Anastasia has agreed to become her temporary sponsor, but when you go back to work, I’d really appreciate it if you could take over. I feel like Thea could learn a lot from you.”

She felt herself smile. “Yes, of course. Actually, on one condition.” Laurel frowned, but Joanna wasn’t worried. “If you ever need anything, you let me know. A reference, food — my mom misses cooking for a group.”

“I don’t think things are that drastic yet,” Laurel was quick to say.

“You never know. It isn’t exactly cheap to live in this town. Except in the Glades.”

“Yeah,” Laurel agreed quietly. “Thank you for the offer, Jo. Really.”

“I’m your friend, Laurel. It’s what we do. I’m gonna miss you when I go back.”

“You’ll do fine without me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t love the odds,” Joanna told her. Laurel pulled her in for a hug.

“Me neither. But we have to keep fighting.”

She nodded into Laurel’s shoulder. Then she pulled back. “So, jobs. You try the DA’s office yet?”

“Yeah, I think Kate Spencer is my least biggest fan at the moment.”

Joanna couldn’t help a snort. “Yeah. That figures.”

Laurel joined her in laughter. Sometimes that was all you could do.

---

It had taken him practically begging for Laurel to finally come see him at the station. She wouldn’t go to his home, and he knew he still wasn’t welcome in hers. That was assuming it was hers for much longer, the way she was going.

“I don’t get it. I really don’t. They don’t wanna let you go. Nobody wants to see you leave CNRI. You’re the best they got!” He paced back and forth in the space between table and wall of the interrogation room he’d commandeered to try and talk some sense into his daughter. “Why would you throw that away?”

“Because if I agreed to what they’re asking, I wouldn’t be the best anymore. I’d just prove to be susceptible to coercion.”

“Coercion to help control a criminal. That’s not coercion, that’s- that’s cooperating with law enforcement!”

“A lot of people in the Glades see that as the same thing,” she stated while looking straight at him.

“Hey now,” he said, raising a warning finger. “I’m not saying this department is perfect, but you gotta have order in a society. This Hood guy, he’s disrupting that.”

“If it was already so broken, maybe it needed disrupted,” she argued.

Quentin could feel his frustration mounting despite his promise to himself not to get angry with her today. The investors at CNRI were pushing the issue because he’d pushed it first — but there wouldn’t be an issue if she’d just see reason!

They were interrupted by a quick rap on the door and the desk sergeant poking his head in.

“Detective, there’s a woman at the desk asking — well, she called you Laurel Lance’s father,” the sergeant amended with a glance Laurel’s way. “I think she might really be looking for you, Miss.”

Laurel took a step forward, but he said, “Send her back here.”

The desk sergeant left and returned a few minutes later with an older woman with dark skin whose face lit up when she saw his daughter.

“Well, Miss Lance!”

“Hello, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel embraced the other woman, and Quentin tried to remember if she’d been a client or family of one.

“I heard through the grapevine you’d been fired. It’s a disgrace, and after everything you’ve done for that office!”

“Thank you,” His daughter said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“You find some other work yet?”

“Not just yet. Most of the law firms in this city aren’t too keen to attach my name to themselves at the moment.”

“I thought so. Well, they’re all a bunch of thieves anyway. So listen, if you need something to keep you afloat, I’ve been asking around. My neighbor’s aunt has this friend, she’s got a flower shop on Wells and 17th Street, and she’s been looking for a helper for a while now. Arthritis getting bad in her fingers.”

“Oh,” said Laurel. She glanced his way, uncertain. “I’ll have to stop by and introduce myself.”

“Mm-hm. It’s honest work, which beats most things. Gotta put the food on the table.” She looked to him as if expecting to share a grin. Quentin’s lips didn’t even twitch.

Mrs. Ross dropped her gaze to her purse, which she rifled around in. “Here, I wrote the address down for you. You show up anytime and just tell her I sent you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel hugged her again. “It means a lot.”

“Well, we all gotta help each other, cause them upstairs never will.” She darted a look in Quentin’s direction and stepped back. “You take care, now.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Mrs. Ross left the room, and the silence in her wake was deafening. Laurel looked down at the paper in her hands, which was really just a way of avoiding looking at him.

“A florist?” He finally asked. “That’s what you’re gonna be now?”

Laurel grimaced. “Has to beat retail, right?”

“Laurel, honey, just be reasonable, alright? No vigilante is worth this much no matter what he’s done.”

“And what am I worth?” Laurel asked. “My word, my integrity. That’s what’s on the line here just as much as his reputation. If your boss asked you to lie about some case just because it would make a few CEOs happy, would you do it, dad?”

If he answered truthfully, it wouldn’t make everything right again. Except: “Lying about a case is a lot different than saying a criminal’s a criminal.”

Laurel shook her head before walking to the door. “The next time you wonder why residents in the Glades don’t trust the cops? Remember that.”

She left without letting him respond. It never helped that the both of them always wanted the last word.

“Detective?”

“What?” He snapped. Kelton just blinked at him, and he sighed. “What was it?”

“The incident report was filed for the, uh, Winick Building use of force.”

He straightened up right away. If he couldn’t save Laurel from her own reckless decisions, he could at least nail the idiot who had hurt her that night. “Well?”

“The rubber bullet came from Officer Daily’s weapon.”

“Daily.” Something had always seemed off about that one. He hadn’t even been one of Quentin’s first picks that night, just volunteered because he was on shift. Probably one of those gun-happy nuts who thought the job was more about shooting people than about keeping the peace. Quentin never minded knocking one of those guys down a peg. “Good work, Kelton.”

He left the interview room and headed to Frank’s office where he rapped on the door. It took a few minutes for his superior to open it.

“Got a minute?”

“I suppose,” Frank Pike sighed. “It’s either now or later with you anyway.”

He showed him in, though Quentin remained standing. “You see the incident report?”

“Well? What’s gonna happen to Daily?”

Frank brought his hands together in a gesture that rarely meant good news. “That’s up to Captain Stein’s decision. From what I understand, there will be no disciplinary action.”

Quentin thought he felt his eyes bug out. “What do you mean, no disciplinary action? The man shot a civilian!”

“It’s a difficult situation, Quentin, one you probably should have thought of before you made your daughter a person of interest to the Taskforce,” Frank pointed out none-too-gently. “Daily believed he was shooting at the vigilante. He has expressed no ill intent towards Laurel or any other civilians since. Laurel didn’t even press charges.”

“And you’re lucky she didn’t since it would’ve exposed us being caught in another lie,” he snarked. “Look, if Stein wants to let the whole thing go, that’s his prerogative. But Daily was under my command that night, so I’ll decide—”

“You won’t go near Daily,” Pike said, standing from his desk. “You won’t speak to him, won’t touch him. It’s a huge conflict of interest, Quentin, one that could see you in front of an ethics committee if Stein decided to pursue the matter.”

Quentin stood there a minute, hardly daring to believe it. Far from threatening him, Frank was trying to protect him, and from his own superior. But he was also protecting an officer who had demonstrated gross misconduct. “You know this isn’t right, though.”

“I know what my orders are. I’m telling you what yours are now. Are we understood?”

Quentin looked down, his jaw working for a moment or so. “Sure.” Then he left the office.

Back at his desk, he checked the incident report. Nowhere in it did it actually confirm that Laurel had been struck by Daily’s bullet; it simply made note that Daily’s gun had been returned with one bullet missing. The official record would never hold him accountable and, apparently, neither would any of them.

Why nobody trusted the cops indeed.

---

It had been a long evening of arguing with the contractors yet again. Tommy had been hoping to be done with that long ago, but thanks to the fire last month, they were still in the building process. It didn’t help matters that Oliver tended to disappear as soon as he turned his back for more than a few minutes. He was just glad to be heading home for one night.

Tommy entered the apartment, frowning as he took in the stripped-down sight of it.

“Laurel?”

“Hey.” She came in from the bedroom, a notepad in one hand and a box under her other arm. It looked to have some of her court suits folded up inside.

“What’s going on?”

“I started an account to sell some extra things for rent this month. Since CNRI is a nonprofit that struggles to stay open as it is, they don’t exactly have severance packages.”

“You’re auctioning off your belongings,” he stated flatly.

“They’re clothes, Tommy, not precious heirlooms.”

“And what about next month’s rent? What’ll you have to give up, then?” Even if Laurel let him cover all of it, they’d barely make it along with food and other expenses. He was too proud to ask Oliver for a raise, especially so soon, and it shouldn’t be necessary. None of this was necessary, but Laurel was stubborn enough to go ahead with it anyway.

She seemed to sense his irritation, for it was apologetic eyes she turned on him. “Next month I’m hoping to be out of here. The landlord already said he’s happy to waive the fee for breaking the lease. I think he’ll be glad to have less attacks.” When he didn’t even crack a smile, Laurel started playing with the hem of her sweater. “I’m taking a job at a flower shop for now. So we’ll have to start looking for something in a cheaper neighborhood.”

A flower shop. That was the next grand step in this plan of hers.

He couldn’t believe this. All this time, he’d seen Laurel as something of an unattainable ideal, with some faults perhaps, but nothing in comparison to his own. While he’d been drinking and sleeping through life, she had followed a path to success. And all of that she was willing to give up for the sake of some killer who had decided to make her a centerpiece for his crazed vendetta on the city. He couldn’t just stand by and watch that happen.

Tommy had been trying to make himself better for her, but it seemed clear to him now that the problems in this relationship weren’t just with him.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, we will. But separately.”

“What do you mean?”

He gathered a breath. “I thought I wanted this. You. But I was wrong.”

He walked back towards the bedroom. Laurel set her box down and followed him, her eyes widening as she found him pulling clothes out of the drawer — the drawer he had fought tooth and nail to get only a month ago.

“Tommy, talk to me.”

“Why should I? You haven’t been talking to me. Not about meeting up with the Hood, not about the decisions you’re making with your career, the apartment.”

“My career is my choice,” she argued, yet her shoulders slumped as she added, “But I shouldn’t have lied to you about meeting the Hood. I know that, Tommy. And we can still make this work—”

“Just answer me this,” he said, turning back to her as he shut the drawer. “Would you give up everything you’re giving up right now for me?”

Laurel’s head gave a minute shake. “Why would I need to?”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t, because I would never ask you to. But you’re giving it up for him.”

She frowned. “Tommy, this is about what’s best for the city. Not the Hood.”

“It’s about him for me, Laurel,” he stated. “I’m not stupid. You’re committed to him in a way you’re just not to me. I don’t know why, or what this lunatic has that keeps you so loyal to him.”

“He’s—”

Tommy held up a hand. “I don’t really care anymore. I can’t keep caring when you’re ignoring what’s best for you to keep him going. I’m done, Laurel.”

“Tommy, please.” She followed him back out to the front room. “I need you.”

“If you needed me, you wouldn’t have gone to him in the first place.”

Tommy shut the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the stinging and the tears, and he walked forward to the elevator. Laurel’s crying grew quieter in his ears the further he got away, but not his mind.

He paused in the elevator, his eyes on the apartment door. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket with a news alert.

Hood attacks Queen family matriarch at QC

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and he hit the close door button. The Hood was an enemy to the people he cared about, whether they could see it for themselves or not.

---

John worked frantically to restart Oliver’s heart. He didn’t know what had gone wrong, but the machine kept up its flat, dead tone.

At least until Felicity Smoak fixed the wires. It was with relief that he realized there was actually nothing wrong with Oliver. His friend was just resting and recovering.

He and Felicity talked while they waited for Oliver to wake up. John could tell she was searching for some kind of reason to stay and accept what was happening, what she now knew. He did his best to explain his own rationale for helping a vigilante.

But at an extremely late hour, the door upstairs opened, revealing a miserable sight.

John stood up straight. “Laurel? Something wrong?”

“Um, hi, John.” The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice came out quiet and a little hoarse. She must have been crying a while.

But when her eyes widened upon spotting Oliver on the table, it was any guess as to the reason. “Oliver. Is he okay? What happened?”

Laurel rushed down to their friend’s side, her hand reaching to take his where it hung limply at his side.

“He took a bullet. Should be okay with time,” John told her.

“It was his mother,” Felicity added.

Laurel looked up sharply. “Mrs. Queen?”

John nodded. “We got some intel that she might know something about his father’s list. He tried asking her about it as himself, but she wouldn’t answer. So then he gave it a try as the Hood.”

“And Mrs. Queen gave a try at putting the Hood down,” Felicity remarked.

“She must’ve panicked. If she’d had any idea,” Laurel said. John just stayed quiet. He knew Laurel didn’t have quite as large a blind spot for the Queen matriarch as Oliver did, but she had grown up knowing the woman. It would likely take some time for her to adjust to the idea that Moira Queen wasn’t all she pretended to be.

Laurel wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned to Felicity. “Um, sorry. I’m Laurel.”

“I know. I saw you on the news a few weeks ago,” Felicity said. “I’m Felicity. I work at Queen Consolidated, which apparently includes doing odd jobs for vigilantes.” She considered Laurel for a moment. “So you really have known who he is. I was wondering.”

“Just for the last month,” Laurel said.

“Did you need something when you came down here, Laurel?” John asked.

“Oh. Yeah, I was hoping to have a look through Ollie’s list. But it can wait.” She returned her gaze to the man’s prone form.

It was another hour before Oliver stirred. His eyes opened and his hand clenched around Laurel’s. John watched her bite back a gasp.

“Ollie, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Laurel?” Oliver’s eyes opened and he looked around at the three of them. His grip eased, and then he was pushing himself up to sitting with one arm.

“Easy there. Try not to aggravate your shoulder,” John advised. “You’ve been out most of the night.”

“What happened?”

“Uh, well, I got you to your secret basement like you asked, John patched you up, I hacked the SCPD database to have them dispose of your DNA sample collected at the crime scene, and then Laurel showed up,” Felicity summarized in one breath.

Oliver turned back to Laurel. “Are you okay?”

She looked ready to laugh in disbelief. “I’m fine. You’re the one with a shoulder wound worse than mine was. How are you going to hide this from your family?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Did you want to see the list now, Laurel?” John asked.

Laurel nodded and stepped back from Oliver’s table. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Why do you need the list?” Oliver asked, frowning as she walked away.

“I wanted to make sure which landlords are on it and which aren’t.” She kept her eyes on the pages she was scanning as she continued, “I’m, um, probably moving to the Glades.”

“What?” Oliver slid off the table and winced as the impact reached his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Laurel, the Glades aren’t safe.”

“Yes, but they’re what I can afford. The only work I’ve found is at a florist’s shop, and if I can walk there instead of using public transit, that’ll save me money, too.”

“That the shop on Wells and 17th?” John asked. He’d noticed the help wanted sign in its window a few times as he’d passed by.

“Uh-huh.”

“Laurel, you’re not a florist,” Oliver said. “You’re a lawyer.”

“Well, there aren’t any law offices that want me. Wish I’d known that before I paid all that money to get the degree,” she remarked. John could see the effort she was going through to keep things light. He still didn’t know what had had her so upset when she arrived. “Okay, so none of the Nickel properties are worth looking into…”

Oliver shook his head. “Those offices will reconsider with time. Look, if you’re that tight for money, I’ll just raise Tommy’s salary so you have more time to look or you can work here with him—”

“Tommy broke up with me,” Laurel stated bluntly, at last looking up from the list. Her mouth pulled down in a terribly sad frown.

Oliver froze. “He left you?”

“He packed his things and walked out tonight.”

“Because of everything that’s happening.” Oliver looked down for a long moment. “I’ll tell him the truth.”

John’s eyes widened, though before he could speak up Laurel was already replying with common sense.

“No, you can’t. He hates the Hood worse than ever, Ollie. There’s no telling how he’d react.” She heaved a sigh. “And it wouldn’t fix the rest of the problems we’ve had. I gave a relationship with Tommy a shot because I was tired of constantly having to turn him down. And I liked it, but — it’s over now. He can’t agree with my choices, and I can’t force him to.”

There was a heavy silence after those words. John noticed Felicity was busying herself by the table with the newer computers she’d set up, and he had a feeling the woman was desperate to be anywhere but here.

“I can still get you a job. Maybe not at the club, but Queen Consolidated. I’m sure we could find something for you,” Oliver offered.

“After the Hood attacked their CEO?”

John looked down. He could see where this was going, and it didn’t lead to any of Laurel’s problems having an easy fix. That was going to be partly on him since he’d been behind the push to send the Hood after Mrs. Queen, and all for no new information, as it was turning out.

“Oliver, if you want people to believe your cover for not being the Hood, for not even liking him, you can’t have anything to do with me.”

Oliver’s face took on a look of alarm as he started towards her. “Laurel—”

She set the list down and took a step back. “Your mother’s just been attacked by a man you’ve been claiming is insane. If I continue believing in the Hood — which I will, since I know you never meant to hurt your own mother — it would be impossible for you to keep being my friend. We can’t have contact, at least not in public.”

Words were failing Oliver. Combined with his shoulder wound, the man looked absolutely broken. He and the rest of them could only watch as Laurel made her way to the stairs.

“I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you,” she added to Felicity. For one moment, she stared at Oliver with eyes that practically ached. Then she looked down and climbed the staircase, the door closing with finality behind her.

“Well,” Felicity said eventually. “I think I’ll be heading home myself. I’ve got an early morning.” She reached for her coat and started for the door.

“Felicity,” Oliver said quietly. The woman paused. “Thank you for everything you did tonight. I understand it was a lot to bring you in on so quickly.”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with her keys. “Not that I’m not grateful you felt you could finally trust me with the truth about all this. But just, no offense, from where I’m standing, being associated with you seems to destroy a person’s life.”

Oliver stayed silent, not even attempting to argue against that assessment.

“So I’m not going to tell the police about you, and I will work with you to find Walter. But that’s it, and after that we’re done.”

Oliver gave a slow nod. “That’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight. I’m glad you didn’t die.” She, too, headed up the stairs and at of the foundry.

A very heavy, very uncomfortable silence fell once it was just the two of them. John knew it was up to him to try and bridge it. “Oliver, I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

“What is this like, Diggle?” Oliver asked. “A disaster? Because that’s how it seems to me.”

“You couldn’t have known Tommy was going to call things quits. And that relationship needed to run its course without you anyway.”

“But it’s not without me, John.” Oliver’s look was absolutely guilt-stricken. “Tommy was jealous of the Hood. And with him gone, and her and Lance not speaking, and now this, she’s totally on her own. I did that.”

“A lot of that was Laurel’s choices, too,” he pointed out quietly.

“I forced her into them. I should have realized the danger I was putting her in. The risks. Now it’s too late. But I’m not taking them with anyone else.” Oliver pulled on a sweatshirt, then took two steps towards John, getting right into his space.

“My mother — any of my loved ones, are off limits. For good this time.”

He’d known it was coming, and there was little he could say without them coming to blows over it. And without any more information about this Undertaking, he had no real leverage.

Oliver turned and stormed from the base. John sighed, then got to work finishing cleaning up.

To think things had somehow only gotten worse even after Oliver had been shot.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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simply-wins-little-sis · 5 years ago

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Possessed

Request: Hi! First of I adore your account your writing is amazing! Anyway can I request a one shot were Sam and Dean are both possessed and end up torturing (physically and mentally) their sister (the reader) then when they aren't demons anymore (you can decide how they are fixed) they have to stitch up the readers injuries but she's scared but eventually trusts them again (really fluffy at the end please!) sorry this is so long ❤️

A/N: So I don’t like the way this turned out, like I actually hate it but I owe you guys a little something. I miss writing for you all. Consider this me coming back.

Warnings: Swearing, torture, abuse, and some fluff at the end.

Genre: Angst

Pairings: Sam and Dean x Little Sister Winchester!Reader , Bobby x niece!reader

Tags: @winchesters-favorite-girl @percussiongirl2017 @the-third-winchester-warrior @hellhoundlover @emmazach @sisterwinchesterwriter @fandom-queen-of-wonderland @staticweekes @hi-my-name-is-riley @a-paranoid-bastard @because-you-never-know-when @enchantingempathhumanoidturtle @alexwinchester23 @winchesterhound @rosie-winchester

You were home alone. Well, not home, for you were back in another motel. The same yellow stained sheets, the same crack mirror, and the same 70s carpet and wallpaper than never seemed to emote anything other than flower power for stay at home moms. The TV was muted, the glow illuminating the dimly lit table as you powered through the homework Sam had assigned earlier. You didn’t mind it, but as the clock hands loomed over eleven, you began to yawn.

Soon you were passed out. Books scattered, a pen opened, the cap scattered to the side amidst the papers and sketches. Your hair falling over your face, light snores escaping your lips, you were at peace. The deepness of your sleep being a rare occurrence. You were often up more than half the night due to nightmares or the paranoia of what went bump in the night.

That’s when the motel door flung open. Two figures casting shadows along the wall. You stirred.

You moved your hair away from your eyes, sitting up, and wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth.

“Dean, Sa-,” but you were interrupted.

“Shut up you stupid bitch,” Sam snarled.

Your older brother snarled at you, your heart dropping. You looked to Dean, hoping he had some sort of explanation.

“Wipe that dumb look off your face.”

Dean seemed to only play along with the charade.

“Guys, what, I’m-,” tears brimmed your eyes as you tried to comprehend what was happening. They knew you weren’t into these kinds of pranks.

“All the trouble you cause us, all the complaining, all the whining, all the ‘my brothers will protect me’ bullshit is getting real old Y/N.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Guys, I’m sorry, I, I’ll try to be a better sister, I promise, just please stop calling me names,” you stammered.

“Oh, you think this is bad? Want to go cry you little baby!” Dean laughed. His voice the same one that told you he loved you earlier.

Sam moved towards you, grabbing a fist full of your hair and ripping it back towards his stomach.

“What should we do to ‘er, Sammy?” Dean laughed.

You were in full panic. You tried to loosen Sam’s grip, but he wouldn’t budge. Droplets escaped down your cheeks.

“I say we start by giving her a scar for every time she ever pissed us off. You think we don’t remember the crying? The waking us up because you couldn’t handle a little nightmare? The ‘Sam I think I’m depressed’ or the ‘Dean I’m hungry’ or the worst of all ‘Dad the boys left when you told them to stay with me’. Well Y/N who stayed when Dad ran off huh? We did!” he mocked. Your heart broke into millions of pieces.

“I was scared, I was so alone,” you cried, “Please just stop!”

Dean laughed manically. He moved towards your small frame and slammed your wrist against the table edge.

“Stop crying you slut! Yeah, you think we don’t know about Tom, but we do! The late-night text messages! You’re going to hell for all you’ve done you little-,” Dean slammed your wrist down again, a crack silencing the last word.

“Stop it, stop it! You don’t know anything!” You screamed.

Sam yanked your hair back, causing a yelp to echo through the air before the laughter chased your ever-moving pupils.

Dean slid his other hand into his pocket, pulling out his pocketknife. He flicked it open, a glimmer in his eyes, one of darkness. He stabbed it into your knee, moving the blade up and around underneath your bone. You screamed out in pain, Sam releasing your hair, laughing.

“Shut up!” Dean snarled.

That’s when you saw the switch, the black covering completely isolating the green eyes you grew up looking into.

“You’re. Not. Dean,” you heaved.

Another stab into your thigh, you gritted your teeth to stop the cry.

“I’m whoever I want to be sweetheart,” he chuckled.

“We never loved you.”

Your heart dropped. Sam’s voice echoed in your ears.

“You aren’t my brothers!” You screamed.

They both laughed.

“So maybe we aren’t your brothers, but we see everything inside them, the memories, the thoughts, the emotions. They hate you just as much as every demon in hell does. They’d kill you if it meant bringing their mom back, if it meant bringing their dad back, even if it meant just a little peace and quiet, they would slit your throat.”

Your face was pale as Dean moved the knife across your collar bone.

You knew you had to get out of the chair before he moved the blade up farther. With one deep breath you kicked your bleeding leg up into his throat, following your foot to the floor. You collapsed in pain, but quickly got up.

Sam was right behind you. Grabbing the lamp from the nightstand you smashed it into his shoulder, moving towards the bathroom.

You slammed the door shut.

Reaching for your phone you dialed the only number you knew by heart.

“Hey kiddo, how’s it going?” Your Uncle Bobby answered the phone, a smile in his voice.

Tears blurred your vision, a pounding at the door making you press your back to the other wall.

“Uncle Bobby I need help!”

“What’s the matter?” his voice immediately changed to one full of worry.

“Y/N open the door!” Sam called.

“Uncle Bobby, Sam and Dean, they’re possessed! I need help!” you cried into the phone.

“Come on bug, we just want to talk, we’re all better,” Dean called.

You could hear Bobby’s tires screeching through the phone.

Your eyes kept blurring over, the boys and their words echoing over and repeatedly. Your legs ached, the blood leaking from all the new openings in your skin.

The pounding continued, as did the calls. You kept crying.

That’s when it was silent. Until the door fell, right in front of you.

“You didn’t think you’d get away from us that easy, did you?” Sam smiled.

Your eyes shut tightly, as you tried to remember the exorcism incantation Sam repeated millions of times before.

You took a deep breath, and began, trying your hardest. A growl escaped into the air between the two of you.

The motel room door opened as Bobby entered, joining in on the incantation. Dean went to shut him up, but the demon blade stood between the two of them.

Black smoke erupted from the two boys, leaving the boys immediately and escaping through the cracks of the door and window frames.

“Y/N, you alright?” Bobby breathed out.

You shook your head, sliding back against the bathroom wall and letting more tears escape onto your cheeks.

You winced as Dean hooked a needle through your skin.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” Sam sighed. He went to put a hand on your shoulder, but you shied away, causing the needle to shift.

“OW!” you yelped.

“Sorry baby girl, but you keep moving.”

“I can do it myself,” you stuttered, grabbing the needle from his hands and shifting the other side of the chair.

“Y/N come on,” Dean responded reaching for your hand.

“No!”

Both boys met your eyes. Bobby stopped pouring the coffee he was fixing for himself.

“You both beat me. You told me you never loved me. Sam you mocked everything I ever came to you with-,” you started.

“That wasn’t us-,” Same tried to interrupt but you kept going.

“You told me you NEVER loved me. Do you know how bad that hurt? How bad it felt to know my own brothers were inside their bodies shoving knives into my skin, slicing at my bones, breaking me down?”

Sam and Dean both looked at their hands, a habit they picked up from one another.

“We tried to stop them, but we just, we didn’t have the power.”

“We never stopped loving you. Ever.”

“But demons play on what’s there.”

Bobby moved towards the table, “In their defense the demons watch your family like a dog watches the dinner table.”

“I screamed through it all,” Dean said, “Yelled and cried and begged, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“I felt it all,” Sam stated.

“We will always, always love you,” Dean had tears in his eyes.

“I am so sorry we ever did any of this. That we allowed it to happen.”

And Sam moved a hand to your shoulder, Dean one to your healthy knee.

“And it will never, ever happen again.

The wallpaper seemed a bit brighter. You eased into their touches, allowing Dean to finish up the stitches. They both put you to bed that night like when you were a little kid. Tucking you in, kissing your forehead.

You weren’t exactly asleep, keeping your eyes closed, but still nervous.

“You two are five seconds away from getting beat,” Bobby snipped.

“We know. We feel like-,” Dean started.

“I don’t care what you feel like! You can’t risk your little sister and her life like that! What were you two thinking?” Bobby couldn’t find all the words he wanted to say.

“We weren’t,” Sam whispers.

“And we will never make this up to her.”

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whycraft · 5 years ago

Text

a lump in the throat: chapter 6

He was pretty sure his fortress was breaking. He was pretty sure the world was breaking. The mobs whispered about it in hushed tones outside. If he lifted his head from the wool pile he’d been laying on for the past few days, he could just see the edge of a black void where the world should be. Like when a chunk wouldn’t load, but darker.

He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter. He was stuck in the Nether no matter what. Death, at least, would be a break from the tedium.

“Evil X.”

Ex opened his eyes. Xisuma stood at the entrance to his fortress, staring angrily down at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Ex asked, with barely enough inflection in his voice to tell it was a question.

“It looks like you’re causing the entire world to glitch. Stop whatever it is you’re doing and put the world back to normal right now.”

“I’m literally doing nothing. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue doing nothing.”

Xisuma scowled. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s funny that you’re wasting your time.”

Xisuma punched the wall so hard that the netherbrick cracked. “Stop playing games with me!”

Ex blinked. Slowly, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. “Games?” He stood, hands balled into fists. “Games?”

Xisuma stepped back.

“I can’t believe you, of all people—”

“This isn’t about me.”

“It’s always about you! What about your fucking games, huh? What about saying you’d give me a chance! What about banning me for no reason! What about isolating me from everything and everyone and not even bothering with an explanation! What about fucking up my life every time I’m at peace with it! What about that, Xisuma!”

Right as he finished shouting, the world convulsed. A huge spire of Netherrack erupted from the ground. It split the floor in half and knocked Ex and Xisuma clean off their feet. Ex hit his head on the wall so hard that he would have been dead if he hadn’t been wearing his helmet.

Xisuma staggered to his feet. “Evil Xisuma, that’s enough!”

“I’m not doing anything!”

A second spire erupted next to Xisuma.

Amidst the cacophony of rocks crashing and the fortress crumbling, fireworks sounded faintly.

“Who else is here?” Ex shouted. “Who else did you bring along to play your games with you?”

“No one is supposed to be here.” Xisuma’s eyes were wide with fear and surprise. “I told everyone to stay together in TFC’s bunker.”

Fireworks sounded again and someone rocketed straight through the entrance of the fortress. If it hadn’t been for Xisuma grabbing their feet as they flew by, they would have rocketed straight into the netherrack spire.

As it was, they just fell flat on their face instead. They groaned and pushed their fiery orange hair out of their face.

“Cleo?”

She looked up. Her nose was at an odd angle—although it wasn’t bleeding—and the thorns from her flower crown had scratched her face.

“H—” she began, but was interrupted by a second person flying into the fortress and running into the back of her head.

“Ow,” groaned the new person, and rolled off of Cleo, holding their head. In the middle of fixing his glasses, he saw Ex and went very, very still.

Ex’s mouth was dry. “Joe?”

“Ex. Howdy. It’s… been a while.”

“A month. It’s been a month.”

“Ah. Right.”

All four of them stood staring at each other, with only falling rocks breaking the silence.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this,” shouted Cleo suddenly. “You three are causing more trouble than you need to and you’re not even doing it on purpose. Everyone sit down on the floor criss-cross applesauce; if you’re going to behave like children, I’m going to treat you like children.”

Ex, Joe, and Xisuma all stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious.

She clapped her hands twice. “Come on, criss-cross applesauce.”

Ex and Joe slowly sat down and crossed their legs. Xisuma was more reluctant. “Cleo, you can’t—”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Sit down, Xisuma.”

Xisuma sat.

Cleo uncrossed her arms. “Okay. We’re all going to have a chat, and we’re all actually going to participate. Who wants to go first?” Silence. “Nobody?”

“I can go,” said Joe. “What exactly are we discussing?”

“Why don’t you talk about what’s been going on for the past month?”

“Um. Okay.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down. “Ex got banned. I tried to get Xisuma to unban him, but he wouldn’t listen. I messaged Ex a lot and he didn’t reply. I—”

“Liar,” snarled Ex. “If you’re going to ghost me, the least you can do is not lie about it.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then why didn’t I get any messages from you? Why didn’t you answer any of the messages I sent you?”

“Ex, I never got any messages from you.”

Ex frowned. “What?”

“I never got any messages from you.”

“But—I sent you so many.” Ex took out his communicator and pulled up all the messages he’d sent in the last month. “See?”

Joe took the communicator from him. “I never got any of these. How…” He scanned the messages. “Wrong? What do you mean, ‘did I do something wrong’?”

Ex hunched his shoulders. “You never answered me. I thought…” He trailed off and shrugged.

“I thought you were mad at me because Xisuma caught you. But why did neither of us get these messages?”

“I think this is a good place for Xisuma to take his turn,” interjected Cleo. “Xisuma, if you will?”

Xisuma shifted uncomfortably under three sets of eyes. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

Cleo tapped her chin. “I’d recommend you start with the bit about blocking messages and then we’ll work from there.”

Joe’s voice was steely. “Blocking messages?”

“I changed the code so that Evil Xisuma wouldn’t be able to send or receive messages,” said Xisuma, “but it was a safety precaution! Look what happened when he was able to send messages!”

“What, how I was able to make a friend? Oh, yeah, that’s real dangerous, right there!”

“You were able to get yourself unbanned!”

“And why did you ban Ex in the first place, Xisuma?” asked Cleo.

“He’s a hazard. Am I the only one who remembers all the times he tried to blow up the server?”

“No,” said Joe, “but you’re the only one who forgets that he apologized and did his best to make up for what he did.”

“You can’t seriously think he was being genuine.”

“So, just to clarify: you banned Ex for things he’d done in the past and apologized for? Even though he hadn’t continued to exhibit the same behaviours?” said Cleo.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Okay, I think we’ve heard enough on that subject. Let’s move on. Xisuma, could you be so kind as to remind us how Ex came to be?”

Ex scowled. He hated this story.

“I fell into the Void, and admins aren’t supposed to die in the Void. It resulted in a glitch that produced Ex.”

“Thank you. I’m going to take the floor now, if nobody minds.” She cleared her throat. “My hypothesis is that Ex is an admin without full control of his administrative powers.”

Ex goggled at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Think about it, it makes sense. You used to be a part of an admin, why wouldn’t you be an admin?”

“If that’s your only proof, consider me unconvinced,” said Ex.

“Just be patient, there’s more. Everybody knows about the weird chunk errors that have been happening all over the server, right?”

They all nodded.

“Admins are tied to their worlds—their servers reflect their emotions. There’s a reason Xisuma’s always so calm; the server would go haywire if he wasn’t.”

“Are you saying the world is breaking because I’m angry?”

“It’s stopped breaking since you calmed down, hasn’t it?”

She was right. In the time they’d been having their conversation, the world had stopped shaking, and there were no more chunks of Netherrack coming through the floor.

“That would also explain why you end up in the Nether when you get banned. Admins can’t get banned from their own world, so the server decided to do the next closest thing. But there’s only one way to tell for sure, of course.”

“And what’s that?”

“Try opening up your own command screens.”

#nearly done yall!#only a couple chapters left to go #evil xisuma #joehills #ex #joe #zombiecleo #cleo #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #minecraft fic #whycraft writes #my post

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buckybabybaby · 6 years ago

Text

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 2)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it. But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

A/n: There is not much plot atm but we'll get there soon, this is just establishing their friendship...

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1481

Warnings: None for now!

Chapter 1

Mr Hollywood Masterlist

Masterlist

*****

Sports day. Not everyone's favourite two words, in fact a lot of peoples least favourite, but over the years you've been at this school you've made it your mission to make sure every child feels included in the day, regardless of sporting ability.

During the year, house points were given out to the pupils, and the cup is rewarded to the victor at the end of today’s events. The school is split in to two houses, either Buttercup or Thistle, and the children are encouraged to find an outfit in the same colour as the flower, turning the playing fields in front of you into a sea of yellow and blue.

As the weather can be unpredictable, even in early July, there is always a contingency plan in case of rain, but this year you're lucky. Maybe a little too lucky you think, as you wipe the sweat away from your brow, too hot even with your loose cotton outfit, the cloudless sky matching your shorts perfectly.

Parent's and other family members can come to watch and bring a picnic to share if they're able, which is great for you as it gives you a free lunch hour for once, which you're taking full advantage of. Sprawled out on one of the playgrounds benches in the shade, you watch the kitchen staff hurry back for more supplies through the heat haze coming off the tarmac.

“You look like you need a drink,” Bucky says from behind you, and you twist in your seat to squint up at him. Smiling down at you with two bottles of water, you can see exactly what that TV producer saw when they thought of him as their leading man. Looking like he spent three weeks in the sun not three days, his tan works well against his hair, which is a little longer now due to the end of term coming up, the length finally allowing a gentle wave to form through it.

There is no doubt in your eyes that he is absolutely beautiful.

It can be difficult being friends with Bucky, when he's so attractive, so kind and thoughtful and funny, and you have to keep your cool because you know it'd never work out. Your friendship with him means so much that you wouldn't even want to risk it, and besides, he is going to be the next big thing in Hollywood and you're just... you. A long time ago you told yourself nothing could happen, and that mantra has kept you sane through the years, especially during that long weekend last summer when you and Bucky had babysat his nephew. He was so good with little Benjamin, and the three of you together for those few days had felt so much like a family your heart ached.

You sit up, shaking the thought out of your head, not wanting to go down that track again. Bucky was leaving in a week or so, and you were going to make sure he went off to America ready for his new adventure, without the burden of an unplanned, unexpected and unwanted confession.

It wasn't like you were in love with him anyway.

Collecting yourself, you grab your bottle from him with a grin. “Feels as though you brought some of that L.A. weather back with you.”

“It's too hot!” He whines, sitting next to you with an over the top groan. The yellow bandana he always insists on wearing in his hair is unravelling at the back and you tuck it back in place as he shuffles closer, leaning into your touch. “Do you think I'll get used to the heat when I move?”

“Maybe. Can you really not tell me anything about what you'll be shooting?”

You'd been pressing him for details since he came back but his answer was always the same. “Nope.”

“You're no fun.”

“Would if I could, you know that.”

You're not sure you do but at that moment you're interrupted by a passing Year Three, whose name you think is Oscar. He's evidently clocked Bucky hair piece, matching his own, and waits for a high five from his favourite teaching assistant before he's off just as quick as he arrived, rejoining his friends in the bright sunshine.

Watching them kick a ball to each other, Bucky hums happily, sipping his water. “I'm going to miss this.”

Its then the thought of being here without him really hits you for the first time. Who will you sit with next sports day? Sure, Peggy is another one of your best friends, however as deputy head teacher she's usually busy at such events. Edwin is an absolute sweetheart too, but his own children attend the school so he always tries to be with them, and you sigh as you think that even now, all grown up, you're still the quiet one with only a few friends.

You want to tell him not to go, that you can't see yourself here without him, but who would you be to ask him to stay just because you're going to be lonely? This was his dream, all he's ever envisioned for himself when talking about the future, and this current job was only ever meant as a temporary fix for when he was here after Dayton's crash. One way or another he would have gone, you just selfishly hoped it wouldn't be so soon.

*****

The bell rings again to signify the end of lunch, and the beginning of the teachers race. A non traditional relay with eight stages, you've opted to go fifth, as has Bucky, and you're excited to see how you fare against him. He may be a beast in the gym, but you feel over the short distance you might just have the upper hand.

It's eerily calm over on the other side of the field, away from the main crowds, and you take a moment to enjoy the peace of the beautiful summers day. The quiet doesn't last long, however, as Bucky starts stretching loudly next to you, grunting obscenely in a way you know is meant to throw your concentration off. Flicking your hand in his direction, you work really hard at ignoring his actions as he sniggers.

A cymbal borrowed from the music room is hit, and the race begins. The sound of the children screaming does reach you then, watching beside a suddenly still Bucky as the baton is passed from the first runners to the second then third. You're both in the zone as the forth stage begin running, and you share a grin as you start jogging before they reach the two of you. It all happens in a blur, the cool metal is pressed into your hand and you don't think of anything other than getting it to the next person along, not caring what you look like or where Bucky is. Your legs are aching but that does not concern you, not when the Reception teacher in front of you doesn't drop the baton when you pass it over, finally slowing down whilst you cheer them on their way.

Only then do you allow yourself to look for Bucky, who appears by you as if summoned, tickling your sides, causing you to shriek and skip out of his reach.

“I think I won that, yeah?”

He nods, smirking. “Who'd have thought little Y/N could be so fast?”

Pushing him, your attempt to trip him up fails as you fall over your own feet, ending up flat on your back on the grass, deciding just to stay there as you catch your breath, propping your head up to watch the race end.

It's hard for you to tell which team won at this distance, but the far too pleased look on Bucky's face as he towers over you tells you all you need to know. Clearly his eyesight is better than yours.

“Next year we'll...” You don't finish your sentence as you remember there won't be a next year. It's all happening so quickly it's hard to get your head round, and there will be a lot more 'last times' to come.

“You never know, I might be back.” He tries to cheer you up. “It could all go wrong and I'll be begging them for my old job.”

You blink away your tears, determined not to make him feel guilty about leaving.

“You're too high profile now, they'd never be able to afford the security.”

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head in a mock cocky way, making you giggle as you accept a hand back up.

You were joking, but there is an ounce of truth in that statement, you realise, and as you amble back towards the main stage you swallow the bitter taste in your mouth at the idea of something changing things between you and Bucky.

*****

Chapter 3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #Mr Hollywood #buckybabybaby

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