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midnightsnyx · 4 years ago

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Mathew Barzal - A Year In The Making

pairing: mat barzal/reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: fluff, angst (me writing sad stuff?? shocker), and there may be a couple swear words? also, this is not edited so i apologize in advance lol

a/n: so this isn’t the soulmate mat fic i am supposed to be writing lol but its still mat! i’ve been working on it f-o-r-e-v-e-r for @hannahmb so hannah, i hope you like it!

my masterlist

Mat Barzal

Summary: Y/N looks back on an entire year with Mat.

January

When you say that meeting Mathew Barzal swept you off your feet, you mean he literally swept you off your feet. It was cold and icy when you were walking to your favorite coffee shop. You weren’t watching where you were walking so when you ran in to him, his foot accidentally (and you question to the day whether it was truly accidental) tripped you up, he managed to catch you before you fell and when you looked at him and saw warm hazel eyes and brown hair sticking out from under his gray hat, you knew you were a goner.

. . .

You knew the reputation hockey players had. They slept around, didn’t give girls a second look after they got what they wanted and you were dead set on never giving Mathew Barzal a second thought but when you ran into him at the grocery store and he asked you to go for coffee, you agreed.

Looking back, it was probably the dumbest and smartest decision of your life.

Coffee led to lunches which led to a movie night at his place which led you to your first hockey game. You knew absolutely nothing about hockey but what you did know, was that Mat loved to celebrate after a win. Whether it was heading to the bar with a couple of his friends or spending the night home watching a movie, he was always in the best mood after.

After your first game, he decided that the best way to celebrate was to go for a walk and get hot chocolate with you. Despite only knowing each other for a little under a month, it felt like the two of you had been the best of friends forever. It was something that attracted you to Mat. How easily he was able to get you to open up to him and vice versa - how much he trusted you with his thoughts and feelings.

It’s definitely how you found yourself standing under a lamppost, snow falling around you like some cheesy romance novel and Mat kissing you softly.

And thinking back, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing.

February

Things between you and Mat were… interesting to say the least. You weren’t a couple but you know that both of you weren’t seeing other people either. Labels were messy anyways. They caused more tension between the two of you than good. Your friends, however, had their opinions.

“I just think it’s a little weird that he hasn’t asked you to make things official yet.” Your friend said. “I mean, you don’t know what he does on the road or during the nights you don’t spend together.”

Her words certainly hit a sore spot but you tried to brush it off. “It’s casual,” you said. “We don’t want to jump into anything.”

“If you say so.” She hummed, going back to eating her pasta.

Her words were in the back of your mind though, no Mater how hard you tried to push them out. You and Mat had been open about not seeing other people, it was a lengthy discussion that made you feel better about not putting a label on anything. But, there’s always the possibility that he would change his mind. You didn’t know what he did on the road. Maybe your friend was right, and even though you and Mat had talked about it, perhaps it was just his way of making sure you stuck around while he was home.

Maybe you were just the pathetic girl that waited at home for him while he did whatever he wanted while on the road.

March

You’d swept your uneasy feelings about Mat under the rug until a Snapchat video surfaced of him on the internet. It was him with the other guys sitting at a table in a bar with some girls sitting with them.

They were sitting with Mat and not on him is what you kept telling yourself. He didn’t look like he was interested in them but you couldn’t get rid of the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that he would take one of them home with him.

You knew that letting your friend’s words about him would ruin things but you couldn’t help it. So you ignored him when he called you the next morning. He knew that you had early classes and wouldn’t call you after games when the time zones would be too different.

You ignored his call and then the texts he sent. He would be home the next day so you decided he could wait until then because you still weren’t sure what exactly to say to him. What would you tell him? That you didn’t believe him when he said that he only wanted to see you? That you didn’t trust him, or that you let your friends words get to you?

You still didn’t know what to say when he showed up at your apartment. He looked worried and mad and you weren’t sure which was worse.

“What’s wrong?” was the first thing he asked. There was no hello, how are you?

“Nothing.” You lied but he shook his head.

“I know you better than that.” He said. “Something’s wrong.”

You wanted to lie to him again, tell him it was nothing, and to forget about it but you needed to know.

“Those girls in the video.” You said, and he looked confused for a moment before his expression turned into understanding. “I know we aren’t a couple, technically,” you said quietly and watched as he slowly walked towards you. “But it bothered me.”

You waited for his reaction, watched his face warily. What you weren’t expecting was for him to take both your hands in his and squeeze them gently.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked softly and even though you weren’t ready for his honesty, you nodded.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you that entire night.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Tito kept asking me why I wasn’t making a move on one of them.” His head tilted a little as he studied you. “But all I could think about that night was how much I wanted you to be there with me.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that crossed your face and you wrapped your arms around his waist and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

“I kinda wished I was there too.” You whispered and your smile widened when he picked you up and spun you around. He was laughing when he put you down.

“Let’s go out tomorrow night. A couple of the guys and their girlfriends or wives are going to Joe’s.” He gave you a hesitant look but continued. “I want to introduce you to them.”

Your brows furrowed. “I’ve met your teammates.”

“I want-” he cleared his throat. “I want to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

Your smile could have lit up the room.

April

You quickly learned that being exclusive wasn’t all that it was cut out to be. There was a certain pressure that came with dating a professional athlete and as time went on, you felt yourself begin to crack under that pressure. You weren’t sure if it was the media, intense fans or the fact that it was difficult to spend as much time together during the Playoffs but you started to question things with Mat.

Your mother always told you that you were an over thinker and always managed to think of the worst possible scenarios and though you would never admit it to her, she was damn right.

Your overthinking is what typically caused an fight between you and Mat. You were never one to pick fights but it just felt like every single thing that happened made you upset. Whether it was you feeling that he played video games too much when the two of you hung out or that he thought you made a big deal out of small things, the two of you were arguing all the time.

It left you spending many nights questioning whether being with him was even worth it when all it seemed to do was cause stress. You wondered if he ever thought the same things.

. . .

The loud cheering in the Barclays Centre did no good to your mood on a Monday afternoon game. You weren’t even sure why you went to the stupid game in the first place after a terrible argument between you and Mat the night prior. It might have been Tito’s many, many texts that day asking you to come because “Mat is always in a bad mood when you don’t come to games” that had you sitting in the stands sporting your Barzal jersey. You knew that you were welcomed in the Wives Lounge but sometimes you enjoyed sitting surrounded by random people you didn’t know and not having to socialize.

It definitely was a good idea at the time because yours and Mat’s fight had unfortunately been in front of some of his teammates and their other halves so you didn’t feel like getting questioned about it.

A loud bang caused you to nearly jump out of your seat and when you looked up, Tito was standing in front of you, grin on his face and waving. You had been distracting yourself on your phone so you wouldn’t look at Mat during warm-ups but you caught his eye when Tito had made you look up. You couldn’t really read the expression on his face. Part was probably irritation and the other maybe relief that you had shown up. The door slamming in his face the night before was probably still fresh in his mind.

Tito waving his hand in front of you brought you back from the memory and he had a puck in his hand, pointing it to you. You furrowed your brows at him because you already had a few pucks from games when you and Mat had first started dating because he had a habit of gifting you with a lot of Islanders things. So you caught it when he chucked it over the glass, intending to give it to the kid sitting next to you until you caught sight of some scribbles on the back. You flipped the puck over and your heart warmed when you realized it was Mat’s handwriting.

I’m sorry with a small heart was written messily on it and when you looked up and caught Mat’s eyes, you smiled and nodded and that must have been enough for him because he grinned and winked at you.

It was enough for now.

. . .

Meeting him at the locker room doors was not anything unusual but you were on edge that evening. You were pretty sure Mat had forgiven you for slamming the door in his face the night before but you were still nervous. When the guys started coming out of the locker room, dressed back in their game suits and grins on their faces, you kept your eyes trained on the doors waiting for Mat.

“He’ll be a few more minutes.” Tito said, stopping in front of you. “He’s doing an interview - game winning goal scorer and all.”

You smiled and let him ruffle your hair like you were his little sister despite the age difference between you two being minor. He always treated you like a sister from the moment you met and you liked that compared to some of Mat’s other young teammates who tried flirting with you in the beginning.

“Thanks, Tito.” You said, waving as he smiled again and walked away.

A little longer than a few more minutes, Mat walked through the doors. He was dressed in his suit again and his hair was wet from the quick shower he must have taken before coming out.

“Hey.” He said quietly, hesitating as if he had been trying to decide whether to approach you or not. When you held out your arms, he walked straight to you and wrapped his around you, lifting you off the ground slightly.

The two of you stood there for what felt like longer than it probably was before he loosened his arms and pulled away a little.

“I’m sorry.” He said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Me too,” you told him and stood on the tips of your toes so you could reach his lips. The kiss was gentle and slow and when you pulled away, you took a step back. “The fight was stupid and we both know it.”

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I just… I feel like sometimes we fight for no reason and it frustrates me. I hate being mad with you.”

Deciding that Barclays Centre wasn’t the right place for his conversation, you took his hand and pulled him towards the exit.

“Let’s go home and talk.” You said and he nodded, squeezing you hand gently and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As you both walked to his car, you idly wondered when home stopped being a place and instead became a person.

May

The Islanders got put out of the playoffs during the second round and although you knew Mat was upset, he shrugged and said, “there’s always next year.” You wondered if that was what got professional athletes through the losses in their careers.

The end of the hockey season meant Mat going home to B.C and it left you in an odd place. He didn’t directly ask you to come with him for the off season but the way he described his summer plans, made it seem like you were involved.

But you being you prevented you from outright asking if he wanted you to come home with him. It was a big step and you weren’t sure you could handle the rejection.

As the date he was leaving quickly approached, he asked if the two of you could talk and your stomach plummeted at his words. You agreed though and during the drive to his apartment, you mentally prepared yourself for the rejection.

He greeted you at the door with a kiss which eased some of your worries but when he started making you your favourite ice tea, you started getting worried. He was mindlessly babbling about random things until he sat on the stool next to you and when you looked at him, he was uncharacteristically serious.

“You could have told me you didn’t want to come to B.C,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been offended, I know you have friends here and probably had summer plans-”

“Mat.” You said quickly, cutting him off. “I want to come with you. To your home.”

He stopped his babbling and looked at you in shock. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t say.”

“Well I mean, you never asked.”

He rose his eyebrows comically high. “I didn’t think I had to.”

A smile broke out across your face and you leaned forwards so you could kiss him. He chased after you when you sat back making your grin widen. “I just didn’t want to push. We spend nearly all year together so I didn’t know if you wanted space for the summer.”

“Y/N.” He said seriously. “I want to be with you. Forever.”

And if that wasn’t the sweetest and most romantic thing a man had ever said to you, you weren’t sure what was.

June

Summer with Mat was, well, amazing. Days spent on the lake and nights spent under the stars ended up making that summer one of the best in your life.

Meeting his family for the first time was equally frightening as it was exciting. His father, Mike and mom Nadia were two of the kindest people you met and you quickly bonded with his sister Liana. They took you in as if you were their own and Mat frequently joked that they were stealing you from him.

You didn’t mind though. You loved spending days shopping at the mall or going to the beach with Liana. Brunch with his mom was always lovely and she always managed to tell you the funniest and most embarrassing stories about Mat. It gave you a little leverage when you needed it and on top of that, Mat was overly cute when he would pout at you jokingly poking fun of him.

Every single day, you realized you fell a little more in love with him and that realization nearly knocked you off your feet.

July

“Let’s go out tonight together.” He said one morning. “Just the two of us.”

Not having spent much alone time together as you would have liked, you quickly agreed. Mat didn’t tell you where he planned on taking you but he must have told Liana because she chose an outfit for you. It gave you a small idea of what he might have been planning.

She didn’t pick out a fancy dress which told you that he wasn’t bringing you to a high end restaurant which you were secretly pleased about because you never quite felt like you fit in at places like those. You much more preferred to go to a small diner so when she chose a cute romper with a pair of sandals, you had a bit of an idea of where you might be going.

“Any hints?” You asked, placing a hand over his which was resting on your thigh.

He shook his head and grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

You pretended to be bothered by it but you felt giddy inside that he was putting so much thought in to your date. It was also fun playing a guessing game, throwing ideas at him of where he was taking you even though you knew he wasn’t going to tell you. You had carefully watched his reactions to your guesses so you weren’t overly surprised when your ride ended at a park.

It was pretty late in the evening, getting close to dark so there were very few people out and around. He parked his car and reached in the backseat to grab a bag before climbing out of the car.

You knew he liked opening the door for you so you waited until he opened it before getting out as well. He took your hand and lead you to a park of the park that was empty and then dropped the bag on the ground and dug around, pulling an old blanket out.

“Picnic?” You asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Is it okay?” He asked and you sat down when he spread the blanket out.

“It’s perfect.” You told him, watching as his face lit up. He sat down next to you and started pulling different snacks out of his bag, handing you some of your favorites.

“Mom helped pack the lunch.” He paused. “I had to stop her when she tried to cook a three course meal for us.”

You couldn’t help but laugh because it was a very Nadia thing to do.

“I love your mom.” You said. “I love your entire family.”

He smiled, looking at the ground as if he was concentrating on something. You knew the look enough that it meant he was going to say something but was either nervous and was working himself up to saying it or would decide not to say it at all.

But you wanted to know what he was thinking so you nudged him.

“What’s going on in your head?”

His cheeks were red when he lifted his head and he shrugged, smiling.

“I love you.”

Your smile was as bright as one of the stars and he met you halfway when you leaned towards him.

“I love you too.”

August

August was one of your least favourite months because it meant that summer was coming to an end. It also meant that off season was coming to an end and it meant that you and Mat would soon be heading back to New York. You loved it there, you really did. You missed your friends and your job but you knew you would miss B.C even more so when the day came that the two of you had to leave, you weren’t ashamed of the tears that were shed. Nadia made you promise to visit again soon and it was an easy promise to keep.

As soon as you got home, Mat was right back at training for the new season. It was a big change from spending basically every single day together to having to share him again with hockey. You loved Mat and you loved that he did what he loved but sometimes you did wish he had a normal nine to five job. He knew you felt that way some days and you could tell he sometimes felt a little bad about it but what you came to learn throughout your relationship with Mat, was that hockey nearly always came first. It was something that you struggled a lot with in the beginning of your relationship but it got a little easier as time went on.

On your best days, you would watch Mat train and feel pride in how determined and hard working he was.

On your worst days, you laid in bed at night and tried to think of your first kiss with the snow falling softly around you, warm sunny days at the lake and late nights under the stars.

Sometimes it was enough but sometimes, it wasn’t.

September

Wake Me Up When September Ends is the most played song on your playlist for an entire month.

October

You never know the biggest fight of your life is coming until it happens. It’s something that starts as the smallest of things until suddenly it hits you like a freight train and the impact is devastating.

That’s what the biggest fight of yours and Mat’s relationship was like.

You hated shouting and screaming. You hated threats to give everything up and walk away. You hated how easy it felt to do just that.

But what you hated most of all, was feeling like you were never enough. Like no Mater how hard you tried, failure was bound to happen and there was no way you could stop it.

And that was exactly what happened.

Slamming doors was your thing. It was childish and immature but it was a way of you making a point when you were angry about something so when Mat slammed a door, you knew he was past anger.

Mat rarely got angry with you. It could be counted on one hand the amount of times he even raised his voice at you but that night, the two of you yelled at each other until your voices were hoarse.

“Why can’t you understand where I’m coming from?” You snapped, watching him pace back and fourth across the living room. His hair was a mess, he had been running his hands through it and tugging enough that you thought he would tear it out.

“Because it makes no sense!” He yelled, “you knew what you signed up for when we started dating! I can’t be your typical nine to five boyfriend who comes home every night.”

“I’m not asking you to be that! I’m asking you to try and put more effort in to this relationship!” You shouted, not caring about the noise complaints you received from your neighbors a week later. “Do you know what it feels like when you feel that you’re the only one putting any effort in? What it feels like when you look at your friends relationships only to realize that yours isn’t even close to how good theirs is?”

“So you’re calling me a terrible boyfriend.” He said dryly.

“That’s not what I said and you know it. Stop putting words in my mouth, Mat.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth if that’s what you’re saying. If you’re so unhappy, then why are you still with me, huh?”

His words stopped what you planned to say and you stared at him in shock. A small part of you wondered what the answer to his question was. Were you really that unhappy that you considered leaving?

“I…” you began but trailed off as you watched any emotion leave his face. The hurt and even anger disappeared and you didn’t realize how quiet the room was until he shook his head.

“I’ll make it easier for you.” He said, grabbing his coat and keys. “I’m done.”

You felt like you were frozen in place as you watched him leave, slamming the door behind him. Minutes passed before you slowly walked towards the front door, opening it in hopes that maybe just maybe he was standing on the other side but when you opened it, the hallway was empty. It was dead silent and when you looked at the floor, you saw Mat’s key to your apartment laying there, the little heart and smiley face you had drawn on it staring up at you as if it was mocking you.

You knelt down to pick it up and suddenly it felt like you couldn't breathe, like all the air was pulled from your lungs and your heart was cracking open.

If meeting Mat felt like breathing for the first time, then losing him felt like drowning.

November

You thought that heartbreak was something that passed eventually, that it got easier every day but it was a lie. You didn’t get over Mat quickly, in fact, it felt like every day got harder and you always told yourself you wouldn’t be that girl. The girl who gets her heart broken and can’t get over him. You wouldn’t cry yourself to sleep some nights or be afraid to turn the TV on in case it was the sports channel and you saw his face.

You scrubbed your apartment clean of him, everything he gave you and anything that reminded you of him sat in boxes on the top shelf of the spare bedroom. It didn’t help though because the memories, those were impossible to forget. They were engraved in your brain forever.

You hated him for how easily he left, how easy it was for him to walk out of your life as if he was never here.

Tito texted you a few time in the beginning, first asking what happened and then asking if you were okay or if you needed anything. You guessed he got the message when you didn’t answer because you haven’t heard from him in weeks and you weren’t sure if that made you relieved, or sad.

Falling in love was easy you realized.

Falling out of love was impossible.

December

A year passes swiftly. Especially when it’s both the best and worst year of your life. You hated yourself for it, but when December hits, you wondered how Mat was. You wondered if he got over you quickly or if he struggled the same way you did. You suspect it was the former.

At the end of every year, you liked to go through your things and donate what you don’t need or want. You started with your clothes and as you went through it, you noticed that you were missing several of your favourite outfits and your heart sank when you realized they were at Mat’s.

It left you with a dilemma. Leave them, or be a big girl and go ask for them back. You could go through Tito to get them back but you don’t know if he’s upset with you for ignoring him just because you broke up with Mat. He was your friend and it was unfair what you did but at the time, you were hurting.

But still, you decided to do it yourself and go get the clothes from Mat’s apartment and whatever else you might have left there. You did your best to get ready and look presentable and when you felt ready, you grabbed your keys and headed for the door. When you opened it, a hand nearly collided with your face as the person standing there was starting to knock. They jumped back and when you looked up, you found yourself staring in to the eyes of the exact person you were going to see.

“Mat.” You whispered, feeling like you needed to reach out and touch his face to make sure he was actually standing there and you weren’t hallucinating. But you didn’t because that would just make you look insane.

“Hi.” He said quietly and the two of you stood there for an unknown amount of time staring at each other.

Eventually, you found your voice.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not harshly but confused.

He opened his mouth to say something but it was if he couldn’t get the words out. Like they were stuck in his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said and you looked at him in shock.

“What?”

He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. “What I said to you… it was unfair. I know I fucked up, and I don’t deserve a second chance but these past two months, I missed you like Hell.”

You were lost for words. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t miss him too but were you really willing to put your heart on the line again and it got broken so easily last time? Could you even handle another heartbreak like that?

“Can we… can you give me a second chance?” He asked so timidly and quietly that you barely heard him.

You let yourself think back over the past year, remembering every single detail. All the joy, laughter, love and heartbreak. Was it worth it? Risking everything again even though you could end up broken again?

You found yourself looking at Mat again, hazel eyes warm and hopeful and it makes you think of the very first time you met. You were faced with the same decision - to let him in or let him go?

You knew you could live without him but you realized standing there, thinking about the past and what the future could be - you didn’t want to live without him.

So you stood up on the tips of your toes and pulled his lips down to meet yours and it felt like you were whole again.

“I can.”

(a couple years down the road, you’ll be saying I do in front of your friends and family with the love of your life and you’ll realize that yes, the risk was worth it.)

#mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mat barzal fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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trvelyans-archive · 4 years ago

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something to look forward to

mari wiseman x gray black. 4k words.

Is there a piece of popcorn in your hair?

“Mari, are you listening?”

You snap to attention, finally glancing away from the mirror in the bathroom and rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’m listening,” you reply, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you tug your boots on. “You must not be, though, because I’ve reminded you more than once that it’s only a ten-minute walk to the train station and that I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I should just come and get you,” Nick says. It’s past midnight now – you had to stay after your shift ended, cleaning up a puddle of Pepsi on the floor that you found accidentally after kneeling down to grab some popcorn from under the seats – and no matter what you say, he insists that you’re going to run into trouble on the way home (even though you have the grumpiest face in the Chicago area – probably all of Illinois – and there’s probably very few people who would approach you because of it without even starting to consider the whole mind-blind thing). “Did you at least bring a hat?”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Mari –“

“Nick, it’s minus ten.” You zip up your jacket and straighten, reaching to grab your phone to make sure it doesn’t topple to the ground while you swing your bag over your shoulder. “That’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he concedes, sensing that you’re not going to budge. “But… call me if you see anyone acting - I don’t know, suspicious, okay?”

“Don’t you worry enough at work?” you ask, reaching for the bathroom door and pulling it open. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Button.” You can hear a smile in his voice. “I never get tired of you.”

You nod at the co-worker by the ticket booth as you wander through the lobby, your boots squeaking loudly against the floor. You don’t know how they didn’t dry in the eight hours they spent sitting in your locker – they’re still as wet as they were when you got here earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically.

Jesus, you’re tired. He should be more worried about you falling asleep on the train than he should be about you getting mugged.

Before you push open the front doors of the theatre, you pause and heave a sigh, remembering that he’s still waiting on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you if I see anyone acting suspicious,” you promise, hoping that you sound sincere. And you are sincere – even you don’t want to die by a mugging-gone-wrong. “And once I get on the train.”

“And once you get off the train.”

That gets a laugh out of you – not an entirely frustrated one, either, which is a feat to behold, at this hour and after this much badgering. While he can just tune into your thoughts whenever he wants to hear whether or not they’re ‘ah, that customer sucked’ or ‘ah, I’m being actively murdered’, sometimes – especially now that you’re an adult with a part-time job – he likes to let you pretend that you have some semblance of privacy (even though you really don’t). “Alright, before and after I get on the train,” you repeat. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Be safe, okay, Button?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Love you,” Nick replies. “Bye.”

The call clicks off before you have a chance to say ‘love you’ back, and after spending thirty seconds deliberating whether or not you want to call him again to do so, you decide against it and brace yourself before pushing out into the night.

Thankfully, it’s snowing outside, and you take a minute to tilt your head back and let the snow hit your face. Most people might complain, but you like the snow. It makes everything in the city look pretty… dreamlike, almost. Still, after breaking yourself out of your reverie, you sigh and stuff your phone in your pocket, regrettably beginning to feel the tips of your nose and ears getting cold already. It’s minus ten, you remind yourself, gritting your teeth and dragging your boot-heavy feet down the sidewalk. And you’ve survived worse. Worse weather, and…

Well, worse.

You sigh a second time like a melodramatic dog that hasn’t yet been fed by its owner and glance up just in time for you to notice a man wandering down the sidewalk towards you. Late forties or so, with a leather jacket and slicked back hair – is he a mobster? He walks like a mobster, at least ones that you’ve seen in movies, and – it’s Chicago. He could very well be a mobster.

Should you call Nick?

You opt not to this time, but tighten your fingers around your phone anyway and hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, close enough that you’d probably be able to pick him out of a line-up if he tries anything, and then, in the span of about two seconds, he walks directly past you without even looking over, leaving you shaking in your boots for more than one reason and sufficiently not-mugged. (No word on whether or not you’re sufficiently not-frostbitten, though.) You’re almost disappointed – do you not look put-together enough to at least try mugging? – and then you remember that going unnoticed by as many people as possible is something you usually like, so you let your phone fall to the bottom of your pocket and keep walking. A little faster, this time, though - just to be safe.

Which is good, because it hasn’t even been a full minute when you hear footsteps behind you – quick, careful footsteps, too close for you to run away from.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

“Mari?”

You frown and turn around – sure enough, Grayson Black is standing behind you, a package of toilet paper stuffed under one arm and a paper grocery bag hanging from his opposite hand, his golden-brown hair tucked beneath what looks like a hand-knit toque.

Great. Just your luck. He looks like he stepped out of a Whole Foods advertisement and you’re wearing a coat that’s about three winters old and smell like stale popcorn that someone put way too much butter on.

“Hey, Gray.” You smile at him, trying to pretend that you hadn’t convinced yourself you were within an inch of imminent death. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh – just walking home from the store.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” you say, pointing to the theatre down the block. Grayson follows your finger and then sighs.

“Right.” He turns back to you. “Sorry, Nick told me you were working, I was just… surprised to see you out so late.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. It’s not like you have any friends to go clubbing with, so you can understand his confusion. “Uh – okay, well… See you later?”

“Are you going to the station?” he asks. Why is he still frowning?

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gray offers.

“I – what?” You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“And it’s late.” He takes a step closer, but not close enough to break the unspoken barrier between you. “Besides… Nick will kill me if he finds out we ran into each other and I didn’t walk you.”

Of course he’s only offering for Nick’s sake. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell him.”

“Mari.” God, the way he says your name is a prime example of why every girl in Illinois has a poster of him of their bedroom wall. “Can you let me walk you to the train station?”

You stare at him for a second, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “Okay, yeah, sure. When you ask so nicely.”

He laughs and moves closer until you walk side-by-side with the usual distance between you, though it feels much bigger tonight – actually, considering his arm is sticking out half a foot farther than it does most of the time because of the package of toilet paper stuck under it, the gap probably is bigger than usual. You glance around at the street while you walk, listening to the crunch of snow under your boots and the gentle hum of passing cars. God, you’d kill to be in a nice, warm car right now – you should’ve taken a cab.

Actually, no, you’re glad you didn’t. You’re probably safer (and happier) on the street with Gray than you are with a potential Ment cab driver.

“So.” You turn to Gray, and he turns to look at you before you even say anything. “Another late night run for Arizona?”

He laughs again, and you try not to let yourself feel too pleased with yourself about it, because he could just be doing it to be polite, right? “No, not this time,” he answers. “Just some… ah… dish soap. I’ve been out for a week, and…” He grimaces, and you get the sense he’d reach up to scratch the back of his head if he had a free hand. “I finally ran out of plastic cutlery tonight after dinner.”

“Mmm… Well, that’s a good reason for a midnight run to the grocery store if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Of course, a couple cans of Arizona just so happened to fall into my basket, and – it would be rude of me to say no...”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” You smile. “That’d be downright heretical, and Fortitude has a reputation to keep.”

Gray laughs, louder this time, and you feel your smile widen. “Anyway, enough about me,” he says. “How was work?”

“Ah… it was okay.” You shrug absently, feeling his eyes on you while you do (even though he should be looking at the ground so he doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and fall on his ass). “Had to stay late and clean up, which was gross, but… According to Nick, I have some cookies waiting for me when I get home, so that’s nice.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gray agrees, nodding.

As if anything compares to this.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something to look forward to for sure.”

“Are you getting excited for the Academy?”

You cringe. As thrilled as you were to get accepted into Aeon, the prospect of finally starting there is nowhere near as thrilling. Though it’ll be nice to have classmates that are strictly non-Ments – at least when you’re not working with Sally’s class – the idea of being back in any kind of school isn’t… well, that isn’t something to look forward to. Still… “Yeah, kinda,” you answer. “Not ready to go back to school, I think, but I also don’t want to be scraping gum out from underneath movie theatre seats for the rest of my life.”

He makes a face. “That sounds… gross.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It is. But I’ve snuck into a couple movies so far and watched them for free, so… it’s an okay trade-off, I think.”

“Sounds like it,” Gray muses. He turns to you. “You’re really not excited to go to Aeon?”

“I said kinda!” you protest.

He smiles. “You shouldn’t be nervous, Mari.”

You’re the one to make a face this time. “Who said I was nervous?”

“No one had to.” He angles his head in your direction like he’s sharing a secret. “I can tell.”

“And Nick told you.”

“Nick… may have mentioned it.”

“I’m not nervous.” You’re lying, of course, because you’re nervous about everything. Right now, only half of your brain is tuned into the conversation because the other half is nervous that you’re going to slip on the ice and break your neck, which would both be not hot and so embarrassing that you’d have to write off your friendship with Gray entirely for the rest of your life and become a full-time hermit whenever he comes over for dinner. “I just… I don’t know…” You kick a block of ice and watch it skitter through the fresh snow in front of you. “I don’t want to disappoint Nick.”

“You could never disappoint him,” Gray responds. “You’re brilliant.”

“Psh. Not even Nick could get away with saying that.”

“He didn’t.” Gray adjusts his grip on the package of toilet paper. “I mean, I’m sure he thinks it. I meant that… I meant that I think you’re brilliant.”

Sure, that could be a really cute compliment Gray gave you, but you’re probably just being too optimistic, right? Like – sure, he’s nice to you and brought flowers to your graduation ceremony and sure, he gave you that cute teddy bear for Christmas and sure, he once brought over a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper for dinner because you were having a bad day and he knows it’s your favourite, but… “Gray,” you sigh. “British people say everything is brilliant.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if his cheeks are pink because of how cold it is out or – well, for other reasons that are so impossible that you don’t let yourself continue that train of thought. “That’s true,” he says. “But I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t say anything. Thankfully, you don’t think Gray seems to mind, because he doesn’t say anything else, either.

There’s a crosswalk coming up, and even though no cars are coming and you could easily get away with some perfectly safe jaywalking, you stop and press the button (ha) anyway and wait for the light to turn, figuring you don’t want to risk it if Gray wants to report anything back to Nick. (Because Nick could very well assume that you jaywalking is something to be grievously concerned about.) Although, on second thought, you’re not sure Gray’s paying very much attention right now – he’s glancing across the street with his eyebrows furrowed, a distant look in his eyes. He must be thinking hard about something, so you elect not to interrupt him.

Now that there’s a lull in conversation, you find your eyelids beginning to flutter. You stayed up late last night after falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole – that’s why you shouldn’t watch documentaries at three in the morning, you think to yourself - and Nick had to wake you up at noon to make sure that you weren’t late for your shift, so… Yeah, falling asleep on the train sounds like a pretty likely scenario.

Gray shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and once again adjusts his grip on the toilet paper package – as he does, though, it topples out of his grasp and lands perfectly in between your feet with a soft, snowy thump. You bend down to grab it the same time Gray does, of course, because you’re the two most awkward people in the world, and there’s a three-second pause before you finally reach for the toilet paper and scoop it into your arms because it would be too awkward now not to.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” you say before he can protest. “You have your… uh…” You gesture to his bag. “Hand full, anyway.”

He tries to protest anyway. “Mari, let me –“

“No, it’s okay.” You smile pleasantly at him. “You’re walking me, so I can… you know… take one for the team.”

He deliberates for a second before nodding – you think he might only do that because the crosswalk light has started beeping at you. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The snow is starting to lighten up, now – you can see the train station in the distance. It’s still a few blocks away, which means you more than enough time to make a sufficient fool of yourself. (Or perhaps, continuing the theme of the rest of the night, a not-fool of yourself?) “You know, uh, if you think I’m so brilliant…” You’d put air quotes around it if your fingers weren’t too cold. “Maybe we should have a Scrabble rematch soon?”

You, Nick, and Gray ended up playing a round last time Gray came over for dinner, but Nick stopped halfway through because he was getting bored and decided to go try mixing a new drink instead. Usually you would’ve complained – you like to wipe the literal board with him whenever you can – but it was hard to complain when you were sitting across the coffee table from Gray and splitting a plate of cookies like a couple of little kids. (It’s hard not to feel like a kid around Gray – shy and long-limbed and awkward. Like Bambi, but less cute because you’re a human and also, just generally, not cute.) “I still can’t believe you beat me...”

“Is now a bad time to remind you that I was my school’s valedictorian?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible time,” you reply, watching Gray grin out of the corner of your eye. “English was one of my best classes! I’m supposed to be good at Scrabble.”

“Well… maybe you’ll be better during our rematch.”

Okay. Keep it cool, Mari.

It only sort of sounds like you’re arranging a date with the love of your life and he’s not even taking a couple seconds to be weird about it.

“Oh, I will be better,” you say. “That’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you work tomorrow?” He sniffles – he must be cold. This is what he gets for wasting his night walking you to the station instead of going back to his nice, warm apartment. “Maybe I could pick you up after your shift and train with you back to your house.”

“Oh, uh –“ You clear your throat. “Yeah, I work tomorrow! I think I get off at six?”

“Okay, great. Just let me know if – erm, that changes or… something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, a little taken aback.

What in the world is happening?

Did you actually get stabbed by that maybe-mobster, and awkwardly making plans to play Scrabble with Grayson Black is your purgatory?

“Uh… I just – I hope I remember to tell Nick,” you comment. “Not that he’s ever bad when you show up on our doorstep unannounced and ask for dinner…”

“I – I don’t ask,” Gray stammers, “he offers before I can even get a word in, and – and I say yes because it would be rude not to!”

“Mmm… sure.” You shake your head fondly. “You’d probably eat Nick’s dinners every night if you could.”

“Yes, but for the company,” he says, smiling. “Not for the dinner.”

“Not entirely for the dinner.”

He laughs. “Alright, you got me. Not entirely for the dinner. But…” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Mostly for the company.”

You can’t exactly disagree. Nick could serve you a plate with nothing more than an uncooked chicken breast on it and you wouldn’t even care as long as Gray was there to get salmonella with you.

You’re nearly at your stop, you realize suddenly. You’re both disappointed and relieved – disappointed because you always hate to leave Gray, but relieved because things have gone too well so far and you’re starting to get suspicious. It’s just like you always say (to yourself) – you’re not lucky. You’re incredibly unlucky. If something is going well, it means that something incredibly unwell is going to happen as soon as possible.

You pause before you reach the stairs to the train platform and turn to Gray to say goodbye.

“Well… here’s my, uh… stop.”

Gray looks at you. “Here it is,” he repeats.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say. He tilts his head, almost in question, but you continue – “You really didn’t have to.”

“Mari.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch carefully as Gray raises a hand like he’s in a trance, reaching out to you like –

Like what?

Is he going to kiss you?

He blinks and the trance breaks, shattering into a thousand little pieces like a snowy sidewalk under a winter boot. “Oh, sorry,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the way he backs up a half-step. Did he really forget about the… well, everything? He never forgets. Gray drops his hand before raising it to his head again, moving it in little circles near his temple. “You have a –“

Following his movements, you reach up, and –

Of fucking course. There was popcorn in your hair the whole time! You make a note to guilt Nick about distracting you when you get home.

“Damn it.” You pull it out of your hair – how did it get so tangled in there? – and toss it onto the ground, hoping that he’s not going to call you out for littering. (Would that even count?) “Thanks.”

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Gray smiles at you again, and though it’s awkward and a little forced, it’s still a Grayson smile. “I should… let you catch your train,” he continues, running his free hand over his head before scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I should let you get back to – uh – doing dishes?”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.” With one last lingering look, he smiles a little wider. “Goodnight, Mari. Get home safe.”

You smile back at him, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, you too.”

Should you watch him leave? No, that’s weird, right? You stand under the streetlight and consider it for several seconds before realizing that you’ve watched him for too long already, and then you shake your head, turning to the stairs and bracing yourself to trudge through the snow that’s gathered on top of them (as if you need anything else to be unnecessarily difficult today). The platform is relatively empty when you reach it, save for a couple of teenage girls and a man in a business suit looking entirely out of place at this time of night and at this weather, and you take a seat on a bench, settling in while you wait for the train to come.

You’re much more aware of how cold it is out now that Gray’s gone – even the sweat on your hands feels like it’s going to freeze – so to distract yourself, you look around the platform for something to entertain you. You manage squint at a weird-looking piece of graffiti a few feet away from you when you hear footsteps approaching.

Sure enough, when you turn around –

“Mari,” Gray says. “I’m sorry, I forgot the –“

He points to your lap, where you’ve diligently placed his package of toilet paper.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you say, picking it up and holding it out to him from one end so he can grab onto the other. “I totally forgot.”

“No, that’s alright, I forgot too,” Gray assures you, because of course he does – when is he ever anything but nice and diplomatic? Once he’s tucked the toilet paper under his arm again, he chuckles to himself and continues, “Alright. Erm… goodnight again, Mari.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

With the toilet paper returned to him, he gives you a short, stilted wave before he turns and heads for the stairs again. You force yourself to look the other direction, making a mental note not to stare at him whenever he walks away from you.

You make a couple other mental notes on the train home, too, though it’s mostly in an effort to keep yourself awake. You definitely need to get more than four hours of sleep tonight if you have a long shift again tomorrow, especially since Gray’s coming over; you probably shouldn’t wear new jeans to work in case you run (or, more accurately, sit) into any more puddles, and you might as well bring a hat with you next time you leave the house, because there’s a spare sitting on the shoe rack near the door, anyway.

You definitely make a note to double-check your hair for pieces of someone else’s half-chewed popcorn before leaving the theatre from now on, too - then, when you think about the possibility of running into Gray outside work after all of your shifts from now on, you decide that you should probably triple-check, instead.

#oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #my writing #my ocs #hi. this is bad. sorry.#ALSO GRAY IS PROBABLY INCREDIBLY OOC SORRY #there is no point to this except me seeing the option to give button a part time job at a movie theatre and getting excited about it #bc it's so MARI !!! it's as mari of an option as Every Single Morbid option !!!#anyway yes here's this. do with it what you will.#also this is so fucking long for no reason sorry LKSDJFLDSJFLKDS #I JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT. THEM BONDING AND BEING DOMESTIC OK.#THEY PLAY BOARD GAMES. THEY HAVE INSIDE JOKES. THEY BANTER. ALRIGHT. IS ME WRITING THAT A CRIME.#ok anyway thanks for reading this tags if you read them loVE YOU BYE !!#long post #mind blind

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narniagiftexchange · 4 years ago

Link

i’ll find you in the next one.

THE AUTUMN NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

for: @ihaveknownone from @luxaofhesperides.

When Peter is six, he asks his parents where his siblings are. They laugh at him and say that he’s an only child and they weren’t going to have another kid. That wasn’t an answer he wanted to hear, but even at six Peter knew better than to keep pushing. So he kept quiet and didn’t mention it again.

And his home remained quiet without the presence of the siblings he knew he had.

So he grows up, always lonely and always quiet, looking out of other kids because he never stopped being an older brother. And no matter how hard he looks, there is no Susan, or Edmund, or Lucy. Just him, and his memories.

There are times when Peter doubt himself, wonders if it’s just a dream or delusions left over from childhood, but he knows the laughter of Susan, and the teasing words of Edmund, and the strong hands of Lucy. He knows them. He knows his siblings better than anyone, even when they don’t exist.

(If he’s alone in this world… Peter forces the thought away and tries to forget his dreams when he wakes.)

He grows bigger, and quieter, looking through crowds for familiar faces he’s only half-sure are real.

And when he gets to college, Peter gives up.

‘I guess I’m alone in this life,’ he thinks as he makes his way through campus, holding that familiar ache in his chest. He scrolls through Twitter as he walks just to avoid people; he hasn’t lost the habit of involving himself in things that help people, and now there’s always a friendly face around ready to talk to him. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was able to fully commit to a friendship, but there’s always a part of him that’s looking away, searching for other people he knows should be by his side.

“Hey, Peter!” someone calls, and he forces down a wince as he looks up. Adam waves at him and jogs over, grinning as he holds up his phone. “Check this out!”

“What is it?” Peter asks, looking down at the screen to a video about… archery?

“There’s this girl who’s coming to this university next year on a scholarship because her marksmanship is insane. You gotta see what she can do.”

But Peter’s already watching, breath caught in his throat as he watches Susan nock an arrow and send it piercing straight through a target too small to see clearly through the camera. She looks exactly as he remembers, back in Narnia, participating in a tournament and holding the title of champion for years until they returned to England.

She’s here. And if Susan’s here then…

“Can you send that video to me?” he asks. His voice sounds as though it’s coming from far away. His heart beats hummingbird fast. He almost doesn’t want to believe it, because if he’s wrong then it will hurt so much more this time.

“Yeah, no problem. Didn’t know you were into archery,” Adam says as he pulls his phone away. Peter almost reaches out to grab his wrist, to bring back the image of Susan, but Adam pockets his phone and carries on as though he didn’t just alter Peter’s life. “You should probably go, doesn’t your class start soon?”

“It does.”

“Alright, I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow!” Adam leaves, and Peter watches him go.

He isn’t… He doesn’t feel real at the moment. The entire world’s gone soft and faded, like the colors are slowly being washed away. Everything feels quiet and distant and Peter can’t focus on anything other than the fact that he’s not alone.

He skips class for the first time that year. He doesn’t even remember leaving campus.

In the age of social media, it’s easy to find Susan. But he wasn’t even sure if that was her name this time around, or if she’d remember anything, if she looked for them too. He doesn’t know anything.

But her Instagram is dedicated to archery and in every tagged photo she’s smiling, which is. Something. It’s a good something.

Looks like she didn’t need an older brother after all.

(Peter thinks about bombs and wardrobes and going years without parents. Thinks about being five and walking a crying four year old Susan home because she fell and scraped her knee. Thinks about his mother in another life, brushing back his hair and telling him in a soft voice that he’s the oldest so he needs to look out for his siblings. Thinks about holding a sword and being terrified that he’s going to outlive all of them. He thinks about a lot of things that don’t matter anymore. They happened in another life, after all.)

He closes the app and collapses onto his bed.

The house is quiet.

Peter tries to focus on other things: school, clubs, deciding whether or not to apply for a part-time job, and most definitely doesn’t think about the siblings he doesn’t have.

His mind, apparently, has other plans. He dreams constantly, of wolves and lions and snow, dreams of a world that no longer exists to him, dreams of a train and a light. After a lifetime (or two?) of ignoring it, suddenly it’s all that he can think about.

Everything’s getting mixed up in his head; Peter hears the church bells ring in the distance and thinks of the small church down the street from the house he lived in while he was in America— except he’s never been to America and the church next to campus is large and old and looks nothing like the one in his memories. He finds himself at the grocery store wondering if he should buy apples to make the apple tart Lucy loved so much, but he’s never been much of a baker and the recipe escapes him.

Even his friends comment on how dazed he is, constantly lost in thought as he walks, forgetting what he’s doing in the middle of doing it, barely able to focus on anything that’s being said. They laugh it off, and Peter laughs with them, but he wonders what he could possibly say if they start asking questions.

It’s hard, now that he knows he’s not alone. But that might be worse; at least when he only had the memory of his siblings, it was easier to live without them. Knowing they’re out there and they don’t know him— that’s what breaks his heart.

“Excuse me,” says a familiar voice, and Peter looks up, tears already welling in his eyes. “Is this seat open?”

It takes him a moment to process her words, then he clears his throat and says, “Go ahead.”

Susan smiles at him and takes a seat.

They argue over who pays the bill, because they both refuse to split it, and it’s so familiar that Susan almost cries. Peter does cry, and she laughs at him because she understands exactly what he’s feeling. Everything in her feels light; she’s gone so long without anyone, having buried her family in two lives, and here is her older brother who

knows

her, who recognized her before he even saw her, and is so happy he cries.

Susan hadn’t been prepared for this. This small hole-in-the-wall cafe just a couple streets down from the main campus of the university she was touring, the university she’s absolutely going to, between the scholarship and Peter. She walked in, welcoming the warmth after walking around for an hour in the cold wind, and immediately ordered something warm to drink.

The cafe was quiet, only a few people seated here and there, when her eyes caught sight of a familiar face: Peter, typing something on a laptop with an open notebook besides it.

She had spent her whole life wishing she had her siblings back. She wondered, for the longest time, if this was a punishment, to be reborn alone while knowing what it was like to have a loving family. She had been born to an older couple who passed away from illnesses a few years back, and the aunt she lived with now was often out for work.

Susan was far too familiar with loneliness these days.

And then, suddenly, there was Peter and the last time she ever saw him, he was waving goodbye from a train that would take everyone away from her.

(Susan often wondered if they’d ever want to see her again. After everything she did to distance herself from them, all the callous things she said that hurt them when she was pretending to be okay. Wonders if they’d want her back in their lives if they ever met again.)

But he smiled at her, tearing up, and they spent two hours just catching up.

They both skirted around the same topics, careful with their words, but everything that went unsaid was enough for Susan to know that Peter remembered her, them, everything that happened in another life.

He ends up paying, but only because he shoved her away from the cashier and handed them his card before Susan could recover. And he told her that she’d have to pay next time, and wasn’t that something?

There would be a next time.

“Here,” Peter says as they step out of the cafe, holding out his phone to her, “So we don’t lose each other.”

She puts in her number and shoots herself a text to have his number, and hands back his phone. She has to go, she knows, but she doesn’t want to. They’d just found each other again, but now that they had no ties besides memory, their lives were pulling them apart.

“I’m going to be coming here next year. I’m planning on getting an apartment off-campus. I was going to look around for a roommate later, but if you want…”

Peter beams at her and says, “Yeah, of course I’d room with you. It’d be nice to live in the same house again.”

“I guess I’ll see you later.” Susan hesitates, looking down the road where she should go, if she wants to catch the bus that will take her home. She stays.

Peter pulls her into a hug. “You will. I’m free this weekend if you want to hang out.”

Neither of them move for a long time.

It’s only when they really have to that they say goodbye.

Peter’s house is quiet. It’s nice, has plenty of space, and is farther way from campus and downtown, so the streets are quiet and mostly empty. It barely looks lived in.

She had hoped he hadn’t been as lonely as she has, this in this life.

“My parents have been traveling a lot,” Peter says when she asks about his family, “Since I can take care of myself. They’ve been sending money every month so I can buy groceries, and they call every night, but we’re not all that close.”

“Oh.”

“It’s alright though! They’re good parents. It’s just that since I can remember another family…”

They don’t say anything else about their parents.

Now that they’re not in public, it’s easier to speak about themselves. How different everything is, compared to their first life, and they talk about Narnia out loud for the first time in this life. It’s a relief to know that it wasn’t her imagination, or lingering daydreams from childhood.

It was all real. All of it.

And it means she’s not alone at all.

“Have you seen anything about Lucy or Edmund?” Peter asks the next weekend and Susan shakes her head.

“I didn’t think any of you would be here, but somehow we still found each other. I haven’t looked at all since I thought I was alone.”

“I’ve looked but I haven’t gotten anywhere. A friend found you, actually, from one of the videos of your shooting. It was a complete accident.”

He knew she was around because of a video one of her friends took while she practiced, and Susan just happened to go to the same cafe Peter was in. What were the odds?

Peter grabs her arm and tugs her along into a small park just outside the main library. It’s hidden off to the side, between the library and the physics building. Susan has found that Peter is a far better tour guide than the one who showed her around campus that fateful day. He’s lead her down shortcuts and into hidden little areas where people seeking quiet and solitude go.

It reminds her of being seven and following around a young Peter down the streets, hand in hand as they looked with wide eyes all the buildings and people they’ve never taken the time to see before.

It took almost two decades, but she’s here now, with Peter.

She’s here now. She’s here.

Susan stays an extra hour after practice is over, waxing the string and replacing the nock. It’s familiar, comforting work, something she’s done for years, here and in Narnia. By now it’s muscle memory, and she lets her mind wander, remembering wars and tournaments and competitions, remembers people praising her right up until she scares them away with how intense she can be, remembers splitting an apple a field away.

She looks over her bow with careful fingers and sharp eyes, then stands. One target is still set up, and Susan eyes it, breathes out, then nocks an arrow and draws it back in a quick, fluid motion.

It hits the center.

Behind her, the door to the gym opens with a loud screech, and Susan whips around to face the person coming in, one hand grabbing another arrow.

“Sorry for bothering you!” a student, probably a Year 7, says, wringing her hands. “They asked me to get some mats from here.”

Susan lowers her bow and thinks. “Mats? Who’s asking for them? Shouldn’t most clubs be done by now?”

“Ah, some people from the fencing team are still here. Preparing for a competition or something. I didn’t have anything better to do so I stayed behind to watch and decided to help out.”

“Alright,” Susan says, “Let me put my things away and I’ll help you carry them.”

They don’t talk much at all, besides making sure they can both handle the weight, and Susan follows the girl’s lead outside to the field. Sure enough, people in fencing gear and milling around, going through different strikes and stances. Some of them break off from the group to grab the mats from them, giving their thanks as they set up for an impromptu match.

Susan turns to leave, ready to call it a day, when she catches sight of someone taking off their helmet and stops, heart hammering in her chest as Edmund gives her a small wave and takes his place on the mat.

Although fencing is a more delicate way of fighting than he’s used to, Edmund still takes to it easily and becomes the best on his team. He wishes for his sword often, wanting to go back to a more familiar way of fighting, but there’s no need for such skills anymore.

So he settles for the next best thing and fights his way to the top.

The warrior in him never died, after all. It just laid in wait until he was ready to be who he once was.

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to live without these memories; would he still be the same person? Or would he become a different Edmund, one who never knew any siblings and went through life uncaring of what happened to him? Perhaps he’d be as he was once, years ago, having just left his mother to be safe from bombings and bitter about everything. Or maybe he’d be just like any other boy of this century, laughing and playing video games and wondering what career he’d have in the future.

None of that matters, though, because Edmund does remember. He knows love and heartbreak and grief and joy. He’s lived three lifetimes, all of them impossible, and he carries every memory, every feeling, and holds it close.

And he looks for the people he loves, because he’s never been one to leave others behind.

He wins almost every fencing match, because of course he does. This goes on for years, and though it’s fun and he cherishes the friends he’s made on the team, he wishes he could meet someone who would actually give him a challenge.

Peter would. But he can’t find Peter. Not yet, in any case. There’s very little he can do, being so young (again), and having overprotective mothers. So he plans, looks online, and tries to see what he can do to send out a sign that says “Here! I’m here and I miss you!”

There’s not a day that goes by when he doesn’t miss them. Peter and Susan and Lucy who are probably, hopefully, out there, looking for each other too.

He wants them back.

So Edmund trains and studies and looks around. He tries to see if anyone talks about lions or wardrobes or childhood games in a magical land, but everyone around him is normal. Edmund, who was once both a king and a boy in a world new to him, carries all these memories alone.

He wins another match. It doesn’t feel like much a victory.

(Nightmares of war and battle, of a witch, of gasping for breath, blood on his lips, blood on his hands, feeling everything hurt then fade away. He wishes he knew how to stop fighting.)

He wins match after match.

And then, while practicing alone, he hears someone shout and looks up to see another fencer swinging down their foil with more strength than is allowed in matches. They don’t move like a fencer; they’re aggressive and fluid, slashing and spinning as they force him back.

Edmund feels the wild grin grow on his face as he steps back and becomes the Just King once more, and rises up to meet his opponent.

It feels almost like a dance, alive in a way most of his fights aren’t. There’s energy between them, following a routine no one else knows, twisting their wrists and barely dodging out of the way of another strike. It’s exhilarating. It’s Narnian.

Edmund wins this one, too, but it’s a close thing. This isn’t fencing; contact doesn’t stop the fight. But a thin blade pressed against his opponent’s throat does. His heart is pounding in his chest when he tears off his face guard to wipe off the sweat on his brow.

“And who did I have the pleasure of fighting?” he asks, breathing hard even as he grins.

They stand up slowly, and hesitate for a moment before taking off their face guard. “It seems I still have ways to go before I can best you at swordplay,” Caspian says with a lovely smile, one he’s spent a lifetime dreaming of.

The shock sends him to his knees, but when he reaches for him, Caspian reaches back.

“I found Susan,” Edmund says the moment Caspian answers the call.

“What?”

“Susan. You know, my older sister. I found her when I was visiting a friend at another school. She’s still doing archery, by the way. Got a scholarship for it at Peter’s university.”

“Wait, you found Peter too?”

“No, I found Susan. But Susan found Peter and she said she’ll send his contact info over tonight.”

Caspian is silent for a minute, processing what he’s just heard. Then he sighs, and says, “I can’t let you go anywhere alone.”

Edmund laughs, feeling lighter than he has in years, and replies, “That’s why you found me first, isn’t it?”

“Among other reasons.”

He softens and ducks his head. “I’m glad you found me. I never thought that I’d get to see you again.”

“Where you are, I am. You’ve already followed me to the ends of the world. Let me do the same for you now.”

“Caspian, you’re going to make me cry.”

The laugh he gets in response is the same as the one that surrounded him on the Dawn Treader. “What a terrible boyfriend I am. Sure you don’t want to break up with me?”

“Like hell you’re getting rid of me now.”

Peter(TM): Sorry I’m gonna be late! People from my club found me :(

why does he have a knife: take your time high king, i know you cant stop yourself from helping them

Peter(TM): I’ll eat all your food

why does he have a knife: i have many swords. try me

Miss Stabby: Why did I think a group chat was a good idea

Miss Stabby: Who changed my name to this, I just wanna talk

why does he have a knife: you KNOW im more creative than that. so i didnt do it

Miss Stabby: Peter. My aim has only gotten better

Peter(TM): ………

Peter(TM): I’ll buy you both crepes if you let me live

why does he have a knife: deal

why does he have a knife: also my bf is gonna be here jsyk

Miss Stabby: YOU DIDNT MENTION A BF

Peter(TM): !!!!

why does he have a knife: yeah caspians excited to see u again

Peter(TM): Caspian’s here too????

Miss Stabby: CASPIAN???

Miss Stabby: WHO ELSE DO WE NEED TO LOOK FOR

why does he have a knife: brb waiters here im ordering first bc u two are taking too long

Edmund hooks his foot around Caspian’s ankle and passes his phone over to him. Peter and Susan’s texts always make him smile. Though none of them live together (yet), having some way of contacting them, of being able to annoy them late at night and see that they’re here is incredible.

Now they only need to find Lucy, and then they can all be together again as a family.

It’s all he’s been dreaming of years.

He can’t wait.

(And on the other side of the restaurant, Lucy tells her grandparents that she sees some friends and that she’s going to talk to them very quickly. And they wave her away, telling her to have fun, and turn back to their food.

Lucy weaves between the tables and catches Caspian’s eyes as she approaches. He sits up and opens his mouth, but she puts a finger against her lips and shushes him, then creeps up towards Edmund.

He’s typing something on his phone, a small smile on his face, and Lucy’s hands are shaking from excitement. She grabs her bracelet, one with a golden lion charm and a dagger charm on it. Takes a deep breath for good luck.

She pulls up a seat next him and sits down.)

Digory taps on the Instagram notification the way his granddaughter Lucy taught him too when she first made him an account. It opens to a picture of Lucy and the rest of her siblings, children who he hasn’t seen in years, children who had grown up without him ever knowing. They’re all pressed against each other, laughing as they struggle to fit onto a small bench.

They look just as they did in the last life, but somehow, brighter. There’s a light in their eyes that he’s never seen before. The weight of a crown and a kingdom no longer rest on their shoulders. In this life, they’re free, and they used that freedom to find each other.

The caption Lucy puts is simple and fun, just like all her other Instagrams.

“living my found family dreams #youwishyouwereme”

He likes the picture and comments a yellow heart.

It’s a good life indeed.

____

i hope you like it!!

#tcon #tconedit #The Chronicles of Narnia #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #Caspian X #caspian x edmund #type: fanfiction #by luxaofhesperides #for ihaveknownone #narnia exchange #narnia gift exchange #narniagiftexchange #autumnexchange #autumnexchange: 2

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years ago

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Baby, It’s Cold Outside! (Ben Hardy x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You are excited to be with your new boyfriend, Ben, for Christmas in a cabin. But a sudden snowstorm means it’s just you two alone without your families. You use the time to get to know each other a little bit better...

Warnings: brief smut-ish scene (nothing super graphic but right on the line), language, mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of families, reader being insecure, Christmas, but otherwise full of fluff

Word Count: 3K

Hello there @asphalt-cocktail. It’s I! Your puppy Secret Santa!!! I hope you enjoy it! This is for @thosequeenboys and @warriorteam1924‘s Get Down, Give Joy Event. Thank you guys for organizing something so fun that brought creativity and light in this especially dark year!

“Y/N! Your bag’s ready?! Blimey-snow’s pouring down!”

Looking down at the Dungeon’s Master Guide peeking out of your bag, you stuffed it before he walked out of the cabin and could see. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. No, not Ben. Not your new boyfriend. Your new, perfect boyfriend. You thought you could sneak a peek when he was gone to plan a campaign with some friends. But he couldn’t no. No.

Looking out, the snow falling lightly down onto your hat, you shrugged, pretending to admire it while still holding your bags.

“It’s just so pretty…and…uh, I was thinking, we could make some hot chocolate! It’s in the big blue carrier…” you improvised, pointing to the blue bag still in the car.

He gave you a biting smile and went to retrieve it. Taking in a deep breath, you stepped inside, your hands getting used to the warmth again.

Besides, you were supposed to be focused on just Ben and your family. That was what the cabin was for. A cabin that had everything: a location in the snow-inclined woods, two floors, a fireplace, and a few basics.

But as Ben opened the blue bag and excitedly got the canister, you realized at least one basic had already gone dry.

“What do you mean we’re out of hot chocolate?” Ben questioned.

You let out a little laugh at the slight pout as he tapped the container and saw two measly tablespoons of chocolate powder. You went to him and wrapped your arms around.

“We’ll get more at the store,” you promised.

He sighed in deep, accepting the feeling of your arms. Limbs stiff from travel, the stretch felt divine.

“Besides, we need to go to that grocery. I don’t know what people will bring but we need all of the basics for the family…when they get here…”

You saw lots of your decorations from home were pre-moved there into big, blue bins. Everything was set. What was missing was the people. The one element that could make or break a holiday.

“Hmm…we should get started. It’s a sad sight to come into a place that’s not decorated…” Ben suggested.

The twinkly ornaments jingled as you unwrapped them from their plastic Looking at the great green fir in the main room in the corner from the fireplace, you wrapped the tin on a bauble around a branch.

The box seemed to have every ornament in the world. It was full of tinsel that was even longer than Ben was tall. You wrapped it around together like a woman dressing in a crinoline skirt. In an hour, golden and red baubles blossomed like fruit on the greenery. Placing them on, they felt so fragile that it moved you with the tenderness Ben’s hands had when he held them. It made you chew on the inside of your lip a bit to watch him fondle them and wrap them on gently. Reminding you of every time he used them otherwise…

Which was why you could not mess up your first Christmas as a couple.

“Do you know where on Earth the topper is?” he asked.

Looking around, you noticed a little star that seemed to be the topper. It had a bottom that looked like it could latch securely to the top bit of a tree. But there was a big black button right near it.

“Huh.”

Creeping down to a plug, you put it in and pressed the button in curiosity.

At once, the star began to radiate disco lights and twirled around in a circle in a mechanical ‘whhhrrrrr” as it blasted a funky “We wish you a merry Christmas.”

Ben jumped in surprise and cursed.

“Oh my gosh…all these fancy decorations and…and this…it’s just so corny, oh my gosh!” you guffawed, wiping away a tear from laughing.

Ben found himself laughing a little too, taking it in his own hands to watch it.

“Phew okay…but let’s get it on…” he said, orderly as ever.

“Can I put it on top of the tree this time! Please!” you begged, along with fake puppy eyes.

“Alright, give it a go…” he offered.

As you stepped on a chair to reach it, you waved your arm up to get it, but you couldn’t quite reach it. Even with your arms stretched high as it could go. It was still a good deal taller than you.

“Argh!”

“You’re the one who wanted to put it on the tree!” he teased, his cheeks turning pink from the sight of you.

“Could you help me!” you asked with a slight pout.

“Of course!”

He wrapped his large arms around your waist and hoisted you up. He grunted a little bit and you felt him walk back and forth to try to keep his footing. When he was secure you kept trying to reach the topper up, but somehow you kept missing it and giggling when you did.

“Just! Put! It! On!” Ben huffed.

Finally, you reached the top and got it on. Using an extension, it was plugged in and the gaudy little top could do its magical swirl again.

Ben placed an arm around your shoulder as you watched the tree in completion.

“It’s…it’s beautiful…” he admitted.

At once your phone rang in your pocket. You ran over to pick it up and recognized the voices of your family.

They explained it plainly, but it was still sad.

“Wha…what is it? “ Ben asked, his eyes softening at the worry on your face.

“Ben…there’s going to be a huge blizzard…they already got it and…they’re stuck home. They can’t join us out of safety.”

You both sighed and he gave you a hug.

“There…it’s alright, we can make it work. The two of us…” Ben assured, patting your back. Your chest hurt with disappointment, but his hugs were always so nice and soft.

“We’ll have to wait until new years to see them…and I was so excited…”

“We can make it work. I mean-it’s a cabin in the snow, Y/N. Could be worse…”

Both of you rushed to the store. People were already there trying to get what they could before the storm could get there. Ben insisted going to the liquor store to get what drinks were available. Though among some favorite ales and beers of his, he got two bottles of champagne.

“Huh…why the bubbly?” you asked, leaning forward in your cart to see the silver wrapper around the green bottles.

Ben was very much a lad’s lad. Into rugby, soccer, sports, and pubs. Enjoying nights with the boys. It never struck you he liked drinking something a bit…feminine.

“It’s a tradition. My family drinks champagne on Christmas morning. And I’d…I’d like to drink with you on Christmas morning with you, Y/N,” he offered. You noticed his green eyes darted to the floor in a fit of bashfulness.

“I’d love that!” you assured.

“I mean…since it’s Christmas on our own…might as well make the most of it…” he reasoned with a shrug.

Once you both got home, you promptly began stuffing the groceries into the fridge. Nothing fancy. Just what you could grab and what ingredients you could see to make any special dishes. It was a holiday after all.

Let him know I can cook, I’m a good girlfriend. I’m a cool girlfriend. And a cool girlfriend cooks for her man…

Ben then grabbed you and began to kiss you passionately. Your hands ran up to his hair. His own went down to your butt.

“Jonesy!”

“We’re alone without the folks…” he teased. “We can do whatever you want…and I couldn’t leave you in that sweater all day…”

“Wait a minute….” You suggested, glancing over.

He stopped. His breathing desperate as his nostrils huffed.

“We have the entire place to ourselves…let’s use every inch of it…”

Walking over to the fireplace, you flipped open the switch. There was the sound of a fwoooom and a crackling noise. Looking over the fireplace was lit up in an orange blossom over the “wood.”

Ben grabbed a few blankets for the cold and tossed them to the ground. Soon, you both were making out passionately. Feeling the deep heat on one side, he stared at you to ask. You gave a clear nod and voiced out a breathy, “yes.”

His hands got inside your sweater and pulled it off of you in a heartbeat. You had changed into your prettiest, fanciest bra and underwear in case this would happen. And Ben approved. But they didn’t stay on you for long. He then laid you down, before removing his own clothes. You watched the orange glow of his skin. How beautiful and intimate to see his body reflected in this way and how the firelight reflected off of your own as well before desperately peeling off the last of what you wore and throwing in over the couch.

You let your anxieties soothe as you focused on the pure bliss of union and togetherness with only the fire to witness it

Little did you know that Christmas on your own meant spending time together. You were used to having Ben sleep by you. You were used to him hugging on your from behind as you stirred up some soup for lunch. Yet you both had plenty of time alone. Here in a cabin as snow blanketed to your thighs, there was precious few alone times you could get.

But what you were slow to realize that this was a bit more complicated when it came to presents. And his wasn’t ready yet.

“Ey-Y/N, where is…“

You let out half a scream and half a yelp of “no!” Ben’s golden head ducked back to behind the door as he let out a curse. You charged for the door.

“Hey, no peeking!” you insisted, before shutting the door.

“Oh! Sorry! My-my phone. Y/N! I just need it for a sec!” he begged.

“You honestly forgot it!” you replied in disbelief. You grabbed a blanket from the bed and draped it over the bed.

“Yeah it’s…it’s the band…gotta check the band! Joe’s been chatting all morning!” he insisted.

Looking over you saw that his phone was on the desk next to your messy bed with pajamas and shower towels strewn all over it. Walking over a few shoes on the carpet, you reached over and got it and handed it back.

“Just knock next time, okay sweetheart?” you ask.

“If it means you call me sweetheart again, I just might!” Ben added with another wink that made your face heat up.

Turning around with a sigh, you removed the clumsily tossed blanket. There was a long line of yarn you had been working on for a while. Knitting and knitting, albeit with joy, every change you got. Even when your fingers became sore and a little calloused. You prayed you could get it done in time. Turning the television on, you flipped to the opening of White Christmas and clicked away on your needles in a fury. It was good to have noise and maybe minor visuals. As the Haynes sisters twirled their mammoth fans in their blue dresses, you peeked at the red pile on your lap. You hoped it was a good enough present for your Adonis of a boyfriend.

Would he like it? Maybe he would like a bottle of an alcoholic drink. A watch. Something sophisticated and masculine.

But now it was too late. With a little huff you clicked away. Taking out your pink measuring tape you saw it was now the right length. Now it was time to darn off and add another prayer on top of that.

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

Christmas morning you wake up because of the thin white line of daylight creeping across your room in a thin line. Everything else is darkness. Ben and you had cuddled all night and you woke up tangled up in his arms. Clothes were half strewn from the more intimate activities you had the other night. Smiling at the memory, you watch him slowly until he shows signs of waking. Rather than spend morning in an excited, sleep deprived haze, both of you grin and wake up with the feeling of being well-rested, yet still slow and relaxed.

You brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, lovie….” He yawns.

“Merry Christmas to you too Ben…” you coo back, enjoying how warm he always feels.

Both of you stay in bed under blankets for a bit. When you shift to look out the window, you see fluffy snow gently falling down.

“I can’t wait….to…”

“To what….” You ask. Open gifts?

“I…I think we could both drink some champagne…”

“Oh my gosh- you found it! On Vinyl?” you ask, holding wide LP in your arms.

In the background, your music shuffle changed to a tinkling rendition of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

“I know I…I searched everywhere, but I found it!” Ben boasted. He swirled his champagne in his tiny glass, taking careful sips.

“But Y/N, you’ve opened my present…and there’s only one left …” he said, eyeing the red box with a plump, shiny ribbon on top.

“Ben, here it’s for you…” Nervously gulping down your champagne in one go, you force your eyes to watch.

He looks at the package with a lightness in the corner of his smile. He is still in his light blue robe. With his tousled hair and puffy lips, he could never seem so soft and perfect to you. It might be the last image before he leaves you for some Victoria’s Secret model, you muse.

You feel yourself wince as he starts to rip open the paper. He then opens the box, eyes amazed at the red pile of yarn before him.

“Oh-Y/N! This is…this is amazing!”

The pulse inside you raced and you breathed a little deeper.

“Oh- It’s warm! Where’d you get it, Y/N…I may have to shop there…” he said, as he tried it around his own neck. The smile on his face was genuine.

“I…I made it, Ben…” you voiced out.

“What? How? You make things?!”

“I knit, Ben…” you confessed.

“Oh! You knit!”

“Yes…yes I do…”

There was a pause. He wove his large fingers across the stitches.

“Y/N, that’s amazing!” he said happily.

“Wha-really!” you replied, blinking.

“Yeah!”

He took your hands in his and hugged you tight.

“You don’t think…you don’t think I’m too…too nerdy…old-school, you mean?” you ask, still blinking in your surprise.

“No! Not at all my darling!” he said, giving you a big smooch.

When you video called your parents and his to wish a Merry Christmas, he forgot to take off the scarf. He wore that scarf on your wintry, Christmas walk. Even when you settled down to eat dinner it still lingered around his neck, draping down. It grazed candy wrappers as you both had your fill of sweets, and even when you watched every special on television together.

The credits of Elf rolled by as the clock struck ten at night. Ben looked down at you as you laid your head on his chest.

“So, Y/N…is there anything you’d like to do…it’s Christmas night…and then we got that whole week before new years and the family coming over…that’s a whole week. And they’ll be ‘ere in what, four days?!”

Biting a part of your lip, you stared at the fireplace and began mumbling.

“Yes…I’d really like to…oh gah, I don’t know…”

“What?”

“Ben, can I be honest with you. Really honest? You already know about the knitting…”

“What is it?” he asked, stroking the top of your head.

“Let me show you…”

Reluctantly getting up, you ran upstairs and then returned with your Dungeon Guide.

“Have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons…it’s my…my other hobby…” you confessed.

“I haven’t!?” Ben replied.

“What do you think? Of me now?

“Nothin’ different.” He said with a shrug. He reached over to get a snowman sugar cookie on the platter before you and bit off the head.

“You don’t think I’m…I’m too…” you babbled, head whipping around as you tried to search for the word

“I’m not too much of a nerd for you?”

“Y/N, I play video games. Passionately. That’s perfectly nerdy! And why should that bother me!”

“Well we…we’ve been dating for three months and…I really wanted to impress you. Badly,” you shrugged.

“Well…I have to tell you… yu impressed me the minute I saw you.”

Grinning, you opened the book to try to explain as much as you could. To your surprise he knew a few basic things. It made making his character easier.

“We will need a few other people, but we can try it with just ourselves…” you offered. Maybe one of your own campaign friends would volunteer.

He leaned toward you with a playful smile.

“Internet isn’t bad here. I know of some nerdy blokes in need of something to do tomorrow night…”

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

The next day, without shame you brought out your projects and knitted on them as Ben enjoyed his games. But every hour you wrote notes for tonight and developed Ben’s characters and helped them build their own. Anticipation fluttering in your chest for the next few hours to arrive as you listed names, races, and abilities.

It was a lovely night. You saw the snow as it drifted down by the light. It still looked puffy and like it fell out of the great dark expanse on the sky to be illuminated and then pile on the ground.

Grinning, you cupped the two cups of fresh hot chocolate and watched it for a minute. Just to savor the moment. Listening right outside the door, you bit your togue to hold back your laughter before you joined the boys again and begin the session.

Now you were truly yourself with Ben. And that was the greatest gift of all.

Taking in a deep breath, you read from the guide over the faces on the laptop screen. Seeing them light up as well as they awoke in their area and began their fantasy journey decided by markers and dice.

Now you didn’t have to hide yourself from them either. And the cute blonde next to you seemed especially happy.

“You come across a monster resembling a dog….” you narrated.

“Can I roll to pet it?” a voice on the laptop screen asked.

“Joe, No!”

Taglist: @queenlover05 @ewannmcgregor @rhapsodyrecs @gwiilymslee @cherry--coke @queenismyprimejive @itsametaphorgwil @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @isitstraightvodka @asphalt-cocktail @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @rogermeddow @chriisxvans

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perfeggso · 4 years ago

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I don’t want a lot (Johnny x Reader)

I wrote this as part of @suh-insane’s walking in a winter wonderland collab, so thanks to her for hosting! Happy holidays and I hope y’all enjoy ❄️☺️

Genre: domestic fluff

Characters: Johnny, fem! reader, Ten

Warnings: nothing really just mentions of bad things that have happened this year lol. It’s a very...2020 fic. Also I guess some language. Also, smoking pot.

Rating: teen and up

Length: 3.5k

My movie quote is “They can’t evict you on Christmas! Then you’d be ho-ho-homeless!”

December 18th 2020, 4:37 p.m.

“Knock, knock!” You pound your fist against the wooden door in front of you, then pull your coat tighter around you. You’d moved to Chicago five years ago for college, and you’re still not sure if you’ll ever adjust to the snowy winter months. It was at said college that you met,

“Johnny Suh!” You bang a fist on the door three more times. “I know you’re in there. Take your headphones off, you dumbass.”

You’re about to pull your phone out of your pocket and go to the trouble of removing a glove to text your boyfriend when you hear the door unlock from the inside, a metallic tumbling sound.

When the door opens all the way, Johnny is standing just past the threshold of his apartment, his catlike lips curled up at the edges. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a blue flannel, and his freshly dyed blond hair falls to where his headphones rest around the base of his neck. You can hear Nirvana coming from them because you are dating a stereotype.

Johnny leans his large frame against the side of the door where he had been holding it and smirks, but there’s nothing but softness behind the expression.

“Long time no see, sicko,” he teases.

You roll your eyes as he moves to let you pass into the entryway of his and Ten’s shoebox dwelling.

“You look even more like a deadbeat than you did a month ago,” you say, not moving because your clothing is starting to drip melting snow onto the floor and you don’t even know where to begin with taking it off. “This is proof you need me around taking care of you.”

Johnny pushes off the door and closes it, pausing his music. He crowds close and starts unwrapping your scarf so you don’t have to think about it anymore, shakes some of the slush off it so it pools at your feet, and hangs it on the coat rack. He does the same with your puffer jacket.

“Aw,” he pouts, “you don’t like the new color?” He tries to remove your beanie too, but it was part of your Outfit, so you yank it back down onto your head and give Johnny puppy dog eyes, choosing to ignore the way your heart rate picks up a little from the proximity. Hey, isolation was rough, okay? Johnny tucks your hair behind your ears instead.

“No, baby,” you say, starting to toe off your snow boots. “I love it. It’s very Disney prince, but simultaneously very… Kurt Cobain.” Johnny smiles and lets you finish stripping your winter gear, walking his way back towards his sofa until he’s sitting, legs wide. Snow falls in flurries past the window behind him. “It’s just that, I dunno, you look like you’ve been spending more time on Reddit or something.” Johnny sulks jokingly at your ribbing as you hang up your purse and try not to fixate on how cold the indoor air still is. “I can tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while,” you continue. “Oh wait! I forgot you have Ten around for that.”

Now it’s Johnny who’s rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t seem too offended because he beckons you over to sit with him. You follow his gesture, skipping towards him until you can curl into his side on the couch. He removes his headphones and lays his head against the crown of yours, taking your hand softly.

“It’s not my fault my girlfriend abandoned me for a month,” he complains, rubbing his thumb over yours.

This makes you chuckle. Oh, how you’ve missed him. “If that’s what you call ‘considerately protecting you from the Novel Coronavirus’,” you joke, “then I guess, but I refuse to apologize for doing my civic duty.”

Your case hadn’t been bad, but it was a logistical nightmare. You’d spent two weeks in total isolation, nursing a cough, guzzling hard alcohol straight to see if you could taste it, sending your best friend out to shop for you, and thanking your lucky stars for having a job that would let you work from home. You’d spent the next two waiting to test negative for the virus and a positive for antibodies. Johnny was initially distraught when you told him, sending you cloying messages and calling everyday to see if your symptoms were getting better or worse. Once you’d convinced him you weren’t dying though, he went back to his usual obnoxious self, joking about planning your funeral and accusing you of faking it to avoid him.

Johnny pulls you tighter into his side. “Whatever,” he concedes. “Is it safe to kiss you yet?”

You look up at him and shrug. “Nothing’s 100% but…”

That’s all the reassurance he needs to pull you into his lap and connect your lips. It's soft and languid, and you hold each other through it. His arms are so solid around your waist it simultaneously makes your heart flutter and makes you feel like you could relax and take a nap right here and now. When you pull away, Johnny runs his hands along your figure, as if to reassure himself you’re really there. The smile he gives you glows, but only for a moment. You curl yourself into the crook of his neck and place the back of your hand on his cheek, tender. His skin there scratches yours just the tiniest bit.

“I missed you,” he says, chuckling.

“Mm-hm, I missed you too,” you reply. “How are you, anyway? You said you had something to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. He maneuvers you off his lap to sit by his side, and from this angle you can truly tell that he’s going sheepish. Suddenly it feels like there’s an alien hand in your stomach. What could this possibly be about? Johnny’s nervous silence gets your brain spinning – a zoetrope of stupidity. Am I being broken up with? No – obviously not. Does he have a family member dying of COVID? I fucking hope not; that’d be complicated on multiple levels. Maybe it’s good? Maybe he finally got a job offer but he has to move away or something.

Johnny starts talking before your mind can come up with any other ridiculous hypotheses.

“We’re getting evicted.”

You furrow your brow. Had you misheard him? You shake your head, incredulous. Johnny and Ten had always maintained a good relationship with their landlord. It didn’t make sense for everything to turn on a dime, even if they were struggling financially.

“You’re kidding,” is all you manage to say.

Johnny just purses his lips and raises his eyebrows as if to say, “it is what it is.”

What he really says is that he wishes he was kidding, but he’s not.

“Oh my god,” you respond, crossing your arms in irritation at, well, at everything lately. “Fuck! When is this happening?”

Johnny sighs. “Technically in a week.”

You feel the cogs of your post-COVID brain start to crank against each other. A week from today would be…hold on,

“Wait,” you say, as the situation starts to appear more and more ridiculous. “Like exactly a week from today? Like on Christmas? You’re being evicted on literal Christmas?” You’re trying really hard not to raise your voice, even if it’s clear that if you did, it would be out of indignation on Johnny’s behalf. You’re obviously not upset with him.

Johnny’s eyes roll around in their sockets as if this is the first time he’s contemplated the exact timing.

“Well, yeah, I guess a week from today is Christmas…”

The absurdity of this all is getting to you, and you can’t help it, you start to laugh. It’s that kind of nihilistic, fuck-all laughter that’s been one of the few things getting you through this year.

“They can’t evict you on Christmas!” you quote. “Then you’d be ho-ho-homeless!”

Johnny looks at you blankly for a second, so you contort your face into that open expression universally recognized as the “get it?” face.

“From Go?” You hint. “C’mon, Johnny boy.”

And before his nickname can fully escape your mouth, your boyfriend is cutting you off with a long sound of recognition and doubling over his lap in giggles.

“Good one,” he says into his right knee, and you giggle along with him. “Wholly inappropriate, but clever nonetheless.”

“Why, thank you,” you say, enjoying the levity, but unable to uproot the feeling of dread in your gut at Johnny’s conundrum.

Go is one of you and Johnny’s favorite movies to watch around Christmastime, mostly because it’s only tangentially related to Christmas, it’s kitschy and ridiculous, and has a plot that is 90% crime. You’re surprised he didn’t catch the reference more quickly, but to his credit, he has more pressing worries taking up mental space.

“Where is Ten, anyway?” you ask, looking around performatively at the messy and claustrophobic room. A silver plastic Christmas tree twinkles on a table in the corner. “Have you two talked about a plan yet?”

“He’s grocery shopping,” Johnny explains. “He’ll be home soon. And yeah, we have an idea.”

“You do? Because you could always move in with me.”

Johnny scrunches his face up. “I would love to live with you.” Your heart rattles a little in excitement, even though you know there will be a ‘but.’ Johnny goes on, “but you know both of us wouldn’t fit in your apartment. Where would Ten sleep? Or put his stuff? We’d all be on top of each other.”

You nod, defeated because you know he’s right.

“Hey,” Johnny says, “but we can always have the ‘moving in’ conversation again, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Sounds good.”

It suddenly feels very dark in the apartment (it’s still chilly enough you think you might be able to see your breath, but you aren’t about to complain because you know there’s a very good reason for that), so Johnny pushes himself up off the couch to turn on a couple of lamps.

“So,” he says, facing you from across the room, “we’re gonna be evicted on Christmas, no matter what the cinematographic masterpiece that is Go tells us is right or wrong. Christmas is just as much of a capitalist construction as our rent, after all.”

You’re about to pipe up again about how fucked that is and how surely they can come to some sort of agreement with the landlord, but Johnny anticipates this and keeps talking.

“We tried to argue, babe, but as I know you know, we don’t exactly have much of a leg to stand on.”

Johnny is right. Again. How many months behind were they on rent at this point? They’d gotten a few months delayed back in spring, but they still owed everything that built up from that before the end of the year, and they’d blown through their stimulus check a long time ago. Johnny has tried to find work, but the theater business hasn’t exactly been booming. Ten, for his part, is able to make a bit of money doing freelance illustration and teaching dance classes over Zoom from his room, but his studio’s engagement has dropped since March and he still unfortunately gets paid per student. You can’t help wanting to punch a wall in frustration at how unfair this all is, but it’s not like any of it comes as a shock. You’re not naïve. You and Johnny met at a leftist theory club for Christ’s sake.

“We’re helping organize a rent strike,” Johnny says, calming you down. Finally, a glimmer of hope. “We’re not the only ones in the building going through it right now, and we know a lot of the tenants who aren’t being evicted well enough we can convince them to join.”

Right then, the front door flies open and thwacks a startled Johnny in the back.

“I’m home!” Ten calls from behind a sack of groceries. You can’t even see his face yet. “I’m terribly sorry,” he directs at Johnny, then heaves the bag of food onto the kitchen counter which is also sort of in the middle of the living room.

“Ooh,” he coos when he sees you, still sat on the couch. “The missus is back!” He strips himself of his winter coat, ignoring your scoffing and revealing an oversized red and white striped sweater. He shimmies against the cool air and lets out a sort of squeal. “I was not built for this actual winter shit.”

“Hi, Ten,” you say once he finishes his theatrics. “Missed you.”

Ten shoots a sappy pout your way. “I miss you too. I’m so glad you’re feeling better! You have no idea how morose Johnny got without you constantly around. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod and try to warm up Ten’s tiny frame with yours while Johnny mutters something about Ten not knowing what “morose” means. When you break away, Johnny is rifling through the week’s haul to put things away.

“I see you didn’t go off-brand for the ramen,” Johnny remarks, stacking several Shin bowls in the cupboard. He turns to Ten with a raised brow. “Big spender.”

“They didn’t have anything else but if you would answer your damn phone I could have called and asked you about it.”

“I answer my phone,” Johnny grumbles, stowing some orange juice away in the fridge.

“Besides,” Ten continues, ignoring his roommate, “since I’m the only one making any money in this household I figured I’d give myself some discretion for spending it.”

Johnny grimaces, and you figure this is where you should probably step in.

“We were just talking about the rent strike, Ten. Johnny was filling me in.”

Ten turns his attention back to you, letting Johnny house the food items in peace.

“We’ll see how it goes,” says Ten, looking out the window just past your shoulder, “but I’m letting myself hope a little bit. As far as I’m concerned, they’ll be kicking my corpse out of here before they put me on the streets.”

Johnny scoffs. “Always so dramatic.”

“Says the former theater major.”

“Touché.”

You’d missed the ‘old married couple’ dynamic your boyfriend has with his roommate.

“But really, just, please try not to get the cops involved,” you plead. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” says Johnny as he closes the last cabinet and crinkles the brown paper bag up for storage.

Ten shrugs. “No promises.”

You sigh.

Once everything is good and settled a few moments later, Ten decides the apartment needs a more festive atmosphere, so that’s how you end up getting dragged down the short hallway to Johnny’s room while Ten belts Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” from the living room and accuses Johnny of being a scrooge. Even still, Johnny sways playfully from side to side as he walks backwards, shimmying his shoulders and mouthing the words with a smile between protestations that this is “not how I envisioned finally spending time again with my girlfriend!” The way he buries his hands into the sleeves of his flannel to make sweater paws makes your heart so full you want to curl up and die. But, moving on.

Once in his bedroom, Johnny flicks on a warm-hued lamp and watches fondly as you collapse on the bed.

“I really did miss you guys,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time in an hour.

Johnny’s lips press into a little smile. “Yeah. We missed you. A lot. Especially me – you have no idea.”

You laugh sardonically. “Based on your text messages, I think I actually do have an idea.”

Johnny flops down on top of you, crushing you a bit.

“Oh really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His golden hair is falling in your face and it tickles, but Johnny halts any laughter with a kiss, then dots tiny kisses all over your cheeks and nose. They tickle too.

“You wanna smoke?”

“Sure.”

Johnny has a pre-rolled joint on his bedside table, and you watch him light it, feeling like you’re in a snow globe with the fall of snowflakes outside. The sky is that weird greyish off-yellow that only comes with a snowy night.

After a couple of hits, Johnny lies back down next to you and hands you the joint. The smoke brings you that usual tight feeling, like your lungs are shrinking but at the same time swimming in radiant heat. You don’t know if you should technically be doing this right after COVID, but you’re young and your body is resilient; you figure you’ll be fine. Besides, you can already feel the pleasant lightness setting in around your mind. It’s a placebo at this point, no doubt, but the relaxed anticipation is nice. You take note of the fact that Johnny had started playing music while you were thinking about lungs. The Strokes’ “Under Control” is doing battle with Ten’s Christmas tunes still seeping in through the cracks in the door.

You hand Johnny his joint back and roll onto your side, supporting your head with one hand and curling the other into Johnny’s abundant hair.

“I just want to say one more time,” you begin, “if worse comes to worst, you can always move in with me.”

Johnny takes another hit and holds it for a second, leaving you in anticipation.

“I know,” he says simply. “But I really think this’ll work. I have to, right? Besides, if Ten had to hear us fucking multiple times a week we would all start to regret living together. That, I can promise.”

You laugh, burying your increasingly silly-feeling head into Johnny’s chest. “Okay, fair.”

There’s stillness for a few beats where you just count your and Johnny’s breaths, trying to synch them up. This doesn’t work though, since Johnny’s lungs are bigger. Then,

“There’s no way your parents would lend you some money?” Your voice comes out quiet. “Or let you stay with them for a while?”

Johnny looks down at you, letting out a heavy sigh. “No, no. That wouldn’t be a good idea for…so many reasons. Besides, they don’t exactly have an extra few months worth of Chicago rent lying around either.”

You nod against Johnny’s chest. “I figured,” you say. “Just checking.”

Johnny brushes his fingers through your hair and kisses your part. “I appreciate your concern,” he says, offering a slightly sly smile.

You kiss the white fabric of his undershirt. It’s been so long since the two of you just laid together, and it feels better than you could have hoped, Johnny’s body heat helping to alleviate some of the cold of an apartment gradually losing its utilities. You wish you could get closer than chest to chest. You kind of wish you could burrow into him, but not in a weird way, you know?

“I believe in you guys,” you say. “However I can help, I will.”

“Thanks.”

Apparently, Johnny is done with talking, because he pulls you in for a warm kiss. Then, he gets the brilliant idea to shotgun the pot smoke. This activity quickly devolves into a very giggly makeout session, only to be interrupted by Ten’s voice outside the door.

“I’m opening the door in five seconds, you guys,” he says, “and if Johnny’s dick is out when I get in there, I’m evicting both of you myself!”

You and Johnny fall together laughing as Ten cautiously cracks the door. He swats at the air in disapproval.

“Stinks…” he remarks. “Oh, thank god you’re decent. Anyway, John, if the lady is staying for the evening, you both need to come help cook dinner, because I am not your housemaid, even if I do look good in a maid costume. Chop-chop.”

It takes way too long to get up out of bed because Ten, as usual, has made both you and Johnny absolutely lose it. Eventually, you manage to rise, but Johnny pulls you quickly back against his lap.

“Hey!”

“Just a minute.” He presses one last kiss under your left ear. “I love you.”

You can feel your skin tingle, although it might just be the weed. Either way, you’ll never tire of hearing that. “I love you too, Johnny.”

“I think Mariah was right,” Johnny whispers, voice displaying mock awe as if he were coming to a mind blowing realization. “All I want for Christmas is you.”

You give him a sympathy chuckle because that was kind of cute, in a corny way, and Johnny just swats your ass a little in response to get you back up to standing.

“Well, you and some basic shelter would be ideal,” Johnny deadpans. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask but I guess we’ll see.” You smile sympathetically. This strike is no doubt going to make for a stressful week, but you’re glad it’s starting like this.

“Hey, love birds!” Ten hollers from the kitchen.

“C’mon,” you say with a laugh. “Let’s not leave him waiting any longer.”

#my fanfic #my work #nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct johnny #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh #christmas fic #neothestars #johnny x reader #nct ten #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul

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dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

Text

all roads lead to you

word count: 4.2k

genre: fluff, angst

summary: nothing is more frustrating than standstill traffic. you should be long home, but instead you’re stuck in your car. alone, cold, and pissed. but when an old friend catches your eye, you might find it less difficult to bear the frustration and freezing weather.

You slam your hand on the horn and scream.

Nothing happens. Other than a few people yelling that you’re crazy from the safety of their cars, which, like yours, are completely and totally still.

It’s been like this for twenty minutes. You could have been home by now, curled up under the covers or chatting over coffee with your dad. But no. You were stuck in standstill traffic because of the shitty winter weather. And even worse, your gas tank is low. You knew you’d need to turn off the car soon and just suffer the cold if you planned on making it to your house. But you grant yourself a few more minutes of warmth, halfway hoping it’ll thaw your cold, frozen heart.

So much for the holiday spirit.

“Jeez, Y/N, you could have at least warned me! I have my phone to my ear.” You breathe out through your teeth, attempting to quell the anger and frustration rising in your chest.

“Sorry, Jimin. I’m just-”

“Pissed? I could tell.” Jimin chuckles sweetly through the phone, making you roll your eyes. Even when he was teasing, it felt like he was paying you a compliment and even you couldn’t be mad. Infuriating.

“Just check the weather channel already, would you?”

“I just got home from the store, gimme a sec.”

“Yeah, yeah...”

The car beside you honks their horn. Good effort, buddy, but you’ve already tried that. You grab your strawberry chapstick from the cupholder and start slathering it on your lips. It’s instinct to do it at this point. You hate chapped lips and you hate winter even more for making chapped lips a problem for you.

Through the speaker, you hear Jimin shuffling around his house and fumbling with the plastic grocery bags. Kid’s never been particularly quiet.

“Didn’t you tell me you were going to the store like an hour ago? What took you so long, the corner store is right down the street.” You hear Jimin drop something and curse.

“I got a bit-” Crash. “-caught up. I’ve been a little distracted since.” You scoff. He’d been a clumsy idiot since high school. You weren’t surprised even a grocery trip gave him trouble.

“You okay, kid? If you’re busy you don’t have to stay on the line.”

“No, it’s okay! I want to, just give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay...” The neighboring car honks the horn again. You think you might even hear shouting. You wonder if people would actually riot over a prolonged traffic jam. You hope they do, kinda sounds like fun.

“Well, shit, Y/N.” That can’t be good. “It just started snowing outside.”

“Ugh, really?”

“Yeah, really. I’m about to turn on the tv but I think that might be your answer.”

The car next to you honks a third time, this time prolonged and obnoxious. You wish you had something to bash your head with.

And then you think you hear your name. No, you’re certain someone is shouting your name from outside your car. You slowly turn your head to the left only to see the last person you would ever expect.

“Y/N! Hey!” You’re caught frozen, chapstick hovering above your bottom lip.

“Yeah, weather’s getting bad, but I think there was an accident ahead of you, so traffic should be moving soon. Oh, well that actually looks pretty awful, so maybe not? Do you want me to see if I can pick you up?” You aren’t listening to Jimin in the slightest when your eyes are locked with a certain individual’s.

“Hey, Jimin?” The words are whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Might be a few hours- yeah?” You gulp, unable to tear your gaze away.

“I’m gonna call you back.”

“What? Y/N-”

You hang up the phone, still staring at the boy just a few feet away, separated only by your car doors. He’s waving madly, a massive, boxy grin stretched across his face.

You roll your window down, unable to wipe the fearful and incredulous expression off of your features. Shivers run down your spine. Because of the cold, obviously.

“Taehyung?”

He hasn’t changed at all. His mess of brown hair is still overgrown and tousled, bangs barely poking over his eyes. His features are sharp and intimidating, but the goofy smile he always carries makes him nothing but approachable. Huggable. Even his outfit is reminiscent of your high school years, a rumpled plaid button up thrown over a white t-shirt. It’s almost like looking into the past, looking into a mirror but seeing your younger self instead.

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Y/N!” Taehyung sighs in relief, falling back into his seat. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for like five minutes now. What were you doing?”

“I-” You’re stammering, struggling for words. Are you these nerves you’re feeling? Nerves? You’re not sure, but what you do know is that you feel like a clumsy eighteen-year-old again. “I was on the phone with Jimin, actually.” Taehyung’s eyes crinkle in delight at that.

“No way, really? I was talking to him earlier. Did he tell you about the girl he met? He’d tried to play it cool but I can tell he’s already whipped.” You laugh breathlessly, still trying to wrap your mind around the situation. Taehyung- your Taehyung- talking to you like you were, what, old friends? Like nothing had ever happened?

“No, he didn’t.” You realize you’re still holding your open chapstick and quickly shove the cap on and toss it back into its designated cup holder.

“Well, you should ask. It’s pretty cute seeing him all flustered.” You nod, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel like this. He’s the only one who ever made you feel so soft, so nervous, so small. He’s always had you melting. You hate it.

“Well,” Taehyung pauses, searching your face, “how have you been?”

“Good, good.” You let the December chill shock you back to reality, force your mind to start moving. You should just treat it just like running into an old high school buddy, why should it be weird? “What about you?”

“I’m great! Though sitting in a car this long is making my back ache.” You nod in agreement. You weren’t gonna say it, but your ass was killing you. Without you offering any further comment, the man continues, suddenly looking as nervous as you feel. He throws a hand to the back of his neck, scratching anxiously. “Hey, I don’t really think this traffic is going anywhere and I’m starving. Wanna grab a quick bite to eat and catch up?”

“Yes.” The words leave your lips before you have time to think, to reason, to be logical.

And that’s how you end up slurping noodles across from your high school sweetheart.

“Market research? Makes sense, you always did like numbers.” You roll your eyes, but the gesture holds no malice or annoyance.

“There’s a bit more to it than that.” Taehyung smirks, shoveling his ramen into his mouth like it’s the last meal he’ll ever eat. Even when he dips his head to take another bite, his eyes never leave yours, making you squirm in your seat.

“Well, are you gonna tell me or make me google it?” A small chuckle leaves your lips against your will.

“Nah, it’d bore you.” You ignore the flash of disappointment in your ex’s eyes. “Last I heard, you were an art major?”

“Oh, no, not anymore,” Taehyung replies, shaking his head. He cracks his knuckles one by one, a sign you’ve long learned is one of nervousness and apprehension. You guess he didn’t love discussing this topic. Good, it’d make him less... comfortable with you. “I’m pre-law now.”

You nearly spit out your drink.

“What? You’re lying.” Taehyung laughs, the pleasant sound making your stomach squeeze.

“I’m not! I promise.” But you’re too intrigued now to let it go, and just like that, Taehyung’s pulled you in again.

“I’m sorry to pry, but how did you, the Kim Taehyung, art genius, end up choosing law?!” You lean back in the booth, ready for the explanation of a lifetime.

“Well, it’s not like I stopped doing art altogether,” he protests, mimicking your posture. “But I ended up taking a poly-sci class freshman year because it sounded interesting and easy. And then I ended up taking a philosophy class and I really enjoyed that. And then I met this really cool and chill lawyer that works with this nonprofit to change immigration laws and long story short, I realized I had taken enough prerequisites to switch my major and so I did. I guess I plan on being a lawyer now.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised. Of course he’d ‘go-with-the-flow’-ed his way into pursuing a law career. The most relaxed, unregimented person you knew had just happened to think law was cool and went with it.

“Wow.” It’s all you can muster for the moment. “Is it working out well for you?” Taehyung cocks his head, giving you a knowing look.

“If you’re asking if I’m flunking all my classes, the answer is no, Y/N.” You immediately feel heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment fill your chest. You quickly lower your drink from your lips.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” A grin plays dangerously on his lips. Is he enjoying this? Seeing you flustered and caught off guard? You push the thought aside. “It’s just not like you, that’s all. You never were one for textbooks and memorizing and structure. And that’s what law is, right?” Taehyung shrugs, returning to his meal.

“Yeah.” He takes a big bite, chewing while he talks. Guess that’s a habit he never broke. “But I think I could help people. I’m serious about it. And when I’m serious about something-” He swallows, eyeing you intently. “-I’m gonna do the work and chase after it, you know?” You gulp.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Overwhelmed by his gaze, your eyes shift outside, watching the snow lightly fall. You can remember taking walks in the chilly weather with a certain person who may or may not be across from you. You remember shoving snow down each other’s jackets, gripping on each other for dear life when you started slipping on the ice, sneaking kisses as the sun set and the two of you were frozen to the bone. You remember hating the cold until you had Taehyung by your side, keeping you warm. You can feel his warmth now, comforting and inviting. It scares you immensely.

“Do you remember the time we fell down the hill near your and Jimin’s house?” You gape at him, feeling like he stole the thought from your mind. Taehyung doesn’t notice your look, too caught up in the memory, a light chuckle echoing from his chest. “I lost my favorite hat during that fall!” You glare.

“Not to mention my arm was broken.” Taehyung smirks.

“And who took you to the hospital and stayed by your side?” You feign ignorance.

“Hmm, Jimin?” you deadpan. Taehyung gasps, dramatic as always.

“You forgot already?! I was your knight in shining armor, you know.” You scoff to yourself, eyes on your soup.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I miss back then. We didn’t know how good we had it.” You quirk a brow, wondering if he means what it sounds like.

“We have it good now, Taehyung. That’s what you’ll be saying in a few years, at least.” Taehyung considers this and nods, sipping on his water. Your eyes linger on his lips for a moment too long.

“Right as always, Y/N.”

You can’t take it anymore. The question’s been plaguing you since you saw him in the car. It’s too painful without knowing, without understanding. The way he calls your name, the old habits he still falls back on, the new ones you’re itching to learn. It’s all too much.

“Taehyung.”

“Mmm?” He’s gone back to work on his noodles, hunger seemingly insatiable.

“Why are you talking to me? Why are you being nice to me?” Taehyung meets your eyes while he drinks his broth, leaving you in torturous silence for several moments. And then he shrugs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” And now you’re annoyed. You shoot Taehyung a dark look that he doesn’t entertain for even a moment. He’s always been the more mature one out of you two.

“You know why.”

“I don’t.” He’s relishing in the way you’re squirming, panicking. You can feel it. The little shit. Your nerves are overtaken by annoyance as you angrily switch to picking at your food. The two of you fall into a silence that Taehyung doesn’t attempt to fill, instead letting you sulk like the child he knew you were.

It’s been nearly two years but the memories are still fresh. You’ve always been told that time heals all wounds, and in a way it does. The memories don’t hurt as much as they used to, thinking about them for too long doesn’t bring tears to your eyes. The sadness and heartbreak faded away, leaving resent and regret and shame in its wake. It was almost worse. Knowing what you did, who you were back then. Knowing you can’t change it or take your words back.

When your eyes lift again, they find Taehyung smirking at you, amused at the private hissy fit you’ve been throwing in your side of the booth.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You suppose that while you were observing how Taehyung was exactly the same, mellow and unfazed by your antics, he was thinking the same thing about you, noting that your moody personality and attitude remained constant.

It was moments like these that ultimately led to your relationship’s failure. It was a high school romance, after all. Naive to think it’d last. You were insecure, immature, uncomfortable with vulnerability while he was just the opposite. It made you angry, how he could just sit there and watch while you were exploding uncontrollably with emotion. But even more so, you were jealous of him. He was nice and approachable. You were judgmental and pessimistic. Anyone else would laugh at the thought of you two ever being together.

But once you found yourself in his vicinity, you never wanted to leave again. He had pulled you in, made you feel soft and sweet. In turn, you made him feel brave and adventurous, more willing to take risks and work hard if it meant having another moment with you. You were addicted to his light and he was addicted to yours.

In the end, you relied on him too much to pull you out of the dumps, to give you hope.

But as the both of you realized that your futures were branching apart, that there was a chance this wasn’t going to work, you both started to self-sabotage. It was a dangerous trait for one person to have in a relationship, borderline explosive with two. You got madder, more irritable. You were looking for a reason to be upset with him so you didn’t have to deal with sadness of him being gone. And he was looking for a reason to let you go, to release himself from the guilt when he knew how you were feeling.

You regretted all of it. Every last word that left your mouth. You regretted succumbing to your fears and letting them control you. You’d worked on changing that over the past few years, worked on becoming more in control, more at one with your emotions.

But sitting across from Taehyung, you were absolutely terrified your old habits would sneak their way back in. That you’d fuck it all up just like you did last time.

“Wanna get ice cream?” You sharply turn your head in his direction, feeling like you were going through emotional whiplash.

“What?”

“That gelato place is down the street, if I remember right.” A sweet smile sits on Taehyung’s face as if you hadn’t just passive-aggressively tried to get him to admit what his intentions were.

“You want to get gelato?” He nods excitedly, fumbling to get out his wallet and pay for his lunch.

“It should be open, I think. I can pay if you’re worried about that, I don’t mind. And traffic still isn’t moving.” Your eyes narrow.

“You want to get gelato when it’s snowing?” Taehyung shrugs sheepishly, handing his card to the waiter and insisting he can pay for you in spite of your protests.

“Why not? Let’s to do it, for old times’ sake.” You sigh, allowing yourself to further indulge in his presence.

“Sure.”

You’re feeling particularly soft while spooning mint chocolate chip ice cream into your mouth and sitting on the sidewalk curb. It makes you just stupid enough to say what you’ve been thinking for the past two years.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung.” He looks at you curiously, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to keep his strawberry scoop from falling off the cone.

“Why are you sorry?” You inwardly cringe but push forward. You deserve to get this off your chest, to say the words you should have said all along. He deserves to hear it, too.

“I hurt you.” Taehyung doesn’t argue, so you elaborate further. “I was petty and childish and I didn’t deserve you. I took what I had for granted and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

When your once-boyfriend doesn’t respond, you force yourself to look away from the mint chocolate chip and study his expression.

He looks slightly shocked, understandably. You weren’t the kind of person to admit when you were wrong very often. The person Taehyung knew definitely would not be admitting she’s wrong right now.

But then, to your surprise, he starts to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

You blush, expression indignant.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He attempts to answer but the words get caught in his throat as he attempts to catch his breath. You can’t help but give him a light shove. “It isn’t funny! I’m being serious.”

After a few moments, Taehyung starts to regain composure and wipe away the tears from his eyes. He’s positively endeared at the way you’re pouting to yourself, playing with your ice cream like a toddler.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re being serious.” He draws in a deep breath. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?”

You’re suddenly ashamed. Because you’d tried. You’d tried to change. You’d tried to better, but you guessed it wasn’t good enough. Taehyung saw right through you, saw how terrible you were. He probably thought you were insincere and simply saving face, or maybe-

“Always blaming yourself.” You freeze. That’s not exactly what you were expecting.

“What?” A shiver runs down your spine as the cold finally seeps its way through your thick coat. Of course you were to blame, what was he even thinking? You were the one who’d acted like a child and told him to leave. You were the one who walked away.

“There was so many things I should have said to you, but I didn’t. I was an idiot. We both were. We were kids, Y/N. Stop think it’s all your fault and cut yourself some slack instead.” He shifts his body towards you, looking at you earnestly. “See the situation as it really was. We were young and naive and we made mistakes. And I don’t know about you, but I forgave you and regretted everything the minute you walked out the door.”

You laugh humorlessly, rubbing at the tip of your nose as it burns from the temperature.

“No, I did too.” You pause, glancing his way. “Seems like you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.” Taehyung throws his head back and laughs, the sound comforting and sweet.

“Speak for yourself.” That signature mischievous look crosses his face. “You know, I’d really love to hear that apology again, actually.”

“Huh? Why?” A sense of unease crosses your stomach. You have a feeling you’re about to be annoyed.

“It’s not every day I get to hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ from the L/N Y/N. Actually, can I record you? I’d love to make it my ringtone.” You cover the giggle that threatens to leave you with a scoff while you jab at the sensitive spot in his abdomen. Taehyung yelps, nearly leaping to his feet and away from you.

“Jerk!” If the snow hadn’t solidified into ice, you’d grab a bunch of it and toss it in his face.

“Hey! That’s such a cheap move!” You roll your eyes at his protests.

“You started it, idiot. Don’t expect me not to retaliate.”

“Still, you could have skipped the retaliation tactic that makes me scream like a kid.”

You stare out at the cars, still stationary. The part of you that wishes you were home is rapidly shrinking, but you don’t notice

“I was scared back then. I felt like you were leaving me behind when you decided to move off for college. I didn’t have direction and thought I would just hold you back.” Taehyung nods, finishing off his ice cream cone.

“I was scared, too. I thought I was just stringing you along and one day you’d realize you were too good for me and leave.”

You scoff, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

“You? Too good for me?”

“Ridiculous, right? I am pretty great.” You shoot him a look and he instinctively protects his side, but you decide to spare him.

“I’ve always been scared. Of you, mostly.” Your lips feel dry. You wish you hadn’t left your chapstick in the car. Taehyung hesitates, cracking his knuckles.

“You still scared of me now, Y/N?” You sigh, needing no time to know your answer.

“No, not anymore. I’m scared of myself. That I’ll hurt you again.”

“You shouldn’t be.” You meet his eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between the two of you. An agreement to put the past to rest. To forgive yourselves, to look forward.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, dark eyes staring deeply into yours. A warm hand settles over yours on the pavement. “A lot.”

“I missed you too,” you reply softly. “A lot.”

You don’t need to say anything more. You both already know what the other is thinking. You fall into silence as the two of you watch the snow fall, looking away from each other. You almost feel like you might float away, but Taehyung’s hand grounds you.

You feel calm. You have the closure you’ve been seeking for the past few years. A part of you dares to feel hopeful, too. Hopeful for a future with him. You’re not sure where it will lead, but you promise yourself to cherish every moment you have. You won’t make the mistake of taking him for granted again.

“Oh, fuck!” You snap out of your daze and follow Taehyung’s eyes to see traffic moving again. The both of your cars sit still while everyone around you to begins blowing their horns in frustration.

Before you have time to think, Taehyung is yanking you to your feet and tugging you towards your vehicles.

You giggle, childishly delighting in the clumsy sprint the two of you are attempting on the slick pavement. With anyone else, you might have been embarrassed. But there’s nothing that could wipe the stupid grin off of your face.

You throw yourself in your car, shoving your keys into the ignition. Luckily, you have just enough gas to make it home. You fumble to shift gears, when a knock on your window startles you. You whip your head to see Taehyung’s face staring at yours.

“Hey, uh-” He begins as you roll down your window, suddenly flustered. You secretly relish in seeing him struggling for words. He’s always been endearing like that. “Your number is the same, right?” If at all possible, your smile stretches wider into your cheeks.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Oh, okay. Great. I’ll call you, then.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

The two of you are stuck grinning at each other like idiots before another angry car blares their horn and you’re snapped out of your daze. Taehyung tears his eyes from yours and gives the other drivers an apologetic wave before dashing to his car and sliding inside.

You find yourself glancing at him as your cars take off and gain speed. A significant part of you is sad as you watch him take the exit before yours and you cruise down the highway, finally heading home.

You switch the radio to the holiday station and sink into your seat, letting yourself hum along to the cheesy tunes. Your fingers are tingling from your time enduring the outside weather, but you don’t mind.

You feel much warmer than before.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung #bts v #bts taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #i went a little overboard with this one but here we are #also it's not even close to the holidays but uh sorry ?#lol enjoy!

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years ago

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 40 Pt 4

She was sore, all over sore. That was the first thing she realized when she cracked her eyes open, everything hurt. She grinned, but what a night. They’d fucked each other like a couple of horny teenagers and even though every muscle in her body ached, it was worth it. She’d slept later than Gustaf, his side of the bed already empty, the sheets cold. Hissing as she climbed out of bed, she wrapped her robe around her and padded out to the kitchen to see the kids at the table eating breakfast, Gustaf in the kitchen making tea.

“You know that massage you offered my ass the other day after ice skating?” She said as he kissed her.

“Mmm, I do.” His smirk playful.

“I may cash that in.” She snorted. “I’m so sore. Muscle sore, like I used every single one.” She chuckled as he kissed her tenderly. “Who knew there were that many of them in the most uncomfortable places imaginable.”

“I’m sorry.” He said wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her again.

“Don’t be, it’s a good sore, but damn.” She laughed. “I’ll be feeling you for days.” She purred in his ear and she nipped it.

“Don’t tease kitten.” He kissed her and winked. “Or I’ll have to take you out to the igloo again.”

“Give it a few days and you can igloo me all you want.” She grinned and sat at the table with the kids as he brought the tea over, the don’t tempt me look in his eyes making her stifle the whimper.

They spent the morning out finishing off the forts and entertaining Lily with a pint sized snowball fight. Gustaf recorded the twins hitting Sildie in the face with a giant snowball. He laughed as she got her own back, tossing them into a fluffy snowdrift. He loved seeing that smile, not a care in the world, happy, and stress free. This trip had been good for all of them, relaxing, bonding, and working toward being the family unit the kids desperately needed. But most of all it was just the time to really process everything that had happened last year since he’d met her. His life had done a complete one eighty and he love it, it would settle more with time. Eating an early lunch Sildie stayed indoors with Lily so the boys could have boy time and snowball the hell out of each other. If she was being honest the night had taken a lot out of her, she was physically and mentally exhausted, but in a good way. He gave her that freedom, a freedom to let all control and responsibility go and just feel. When Lily went down for a nap at one, the boys were well into their snow wars, so she took a few videos and some quick photos on a semi cease fire and left them to it. Curling up in bed with her book she passed out a little while later.

She surfaced much later, dark outside later, and she felt worse than when she’d gone to bed. “Probably too much sleep now.” She snorted and went to take a shower.

When she came into the living room the kids were around the fire toasting marshmallows while Gustaf read to them, Lily half asleep in his lap. He stopped when he saw her and smiled.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He smiled, his comment earning him a snort from Sildie.

“Sorry guys I crashed out.” She yawned.

“It’s ok we had our snowball war, part two tomorrow.” Gustaf grinned like the kid he was at heart. His brow creased as she went to put the kettle on, something was off. Getting to his feet he snuggled Lily in and stood behind her, hand resting on her hip. “You ok love? You look a little pale.”

“I’m ok, just tired still, I actually feel worse than I did this morning.” She said honestly.

“You catch a chill last night in the fort?” He was concerned, no trace of humor in his voice now.

“I hope not, but if it is, it is. I have zero regrets, especially after what you did to me.” She smiled and played with Lily’s hair. “Go put her to bed, she’s out cold.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to have some tea and maybe some toast and go back to bed.”

“You’re sure you’re ok.” He looked at her flatly not quite ready to believe her.

“Stop fussing.” She said and chuckled. She was fine, just a little off which could be explained by the vigorous activity they’d partaken in last night. She sat with the boys as Gustaf got Lily down and heard about their day, the fun they had as she munched on some toast and jam.

Gustaf put Lily to bed and got the boys settled, Sildie on his mind. He hoped he hadn’t got her sick with his insistence of sex in the snow, igloo or not it had been cold. He came into the bedroom to find her curled up with her book reading like any other night. “How are you feeling?” He asked stripping down and getting under the covers.

“Stiff and sore and just generally tired, wiped out. I think it’s a combination of last night and all the stress leaving my body like you exorcised it.” She chuckled.

“Be serious Sildie.” His tone changed and her face fell.

“I’m ok, honestly, I’m just sore and wiped.”

“Did you eat something?”

“I wasn’t really hungry, but I had some toast.” She went back to reading her book.

“Proper breakfast tomorrow ok, don’t skip too many meals love.” He wouldn’t push because if he did she’d shut him down.

“I promise, breakfast tomorrow.” She shut her book and snuggled down as he flipped the light off.

“I love you Sildie.” He said tenderly.

“I know you do, but I’m ok.” She kissed his chest where her head lay. “I love you too.”

At three in the morning she knew she was in trouble when the mad dash to the bathroom hurled up bile and not much else, her throat feeling like she’d swallowed a coil of razor wire and the devious little gremlins were playing tug-o-war with it. “Shit.” She spat, she was sick. “Fucking shit.”

“Sildie?” The soft tap at the door made her feel worse. Gustaf would blame himself for this.

“I’m ok.” She said feebly as she hurled again.

He came into the bathroom to see her sitting on the floor, hair held back in one hand the other gripping the bowl like her life depended on it for stability. She’d gone ashen grey, his woman was sick. “You’re not ok.” He said gently.

“I feel like ass to be honest.” She croaked, even her voice was sore.

“I’m so sorry love.”

“Don’t.” She held up her finger. “Don’t. I don’t blame you. Shit happens, I’m sick, we’ll deal with it.” Once she realized nothing else was going to be expelled from her gut she started to get to her feet, Gustaf helping her.

“I’ll get it. Brush your teeth and get back into bed.” He said as she went to flush and clean up the mess she’d made.

“I can...”

“Teeth and back to bed. Don’t fight me on this love, you’re sick and look like death warmed up.” He kissed her brow. “And you have a fever.” He added with a sigh. “Back to bed.”

“Ok.” She said simply at the concern on his face. “I don’t blame you.” She said meekly.

“I know love.” He smiled and helped her get toothpaste on her brush. “I didn’t want you getting sick from it though.” He kissed her head and started brushing her hair, the loose braid enough to keep it out of the toilet should she need to puke again.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, resting her head against his chest while she tried to find the energy to walk back to the bed.

“Get into bed, drink some water. I’m going to see if I can find some broth or something so you have food in your stomach or the ibuprofen will burn a hole in your gut.” He waited until she’d finished in the bathroom and helped her into bed before heading to the kitchen. Hunting through their groceries he sighed when it didn’t yield any broth, but there were some cans of chicken noodle soup. “That will have to do.” Sitting the soup on the stove to heat he found some ibuprofen and took it into her, he needed to get the fever down. “I have some chicken noodle soup warming up.” He said handing two tablets to her and a cold cup of water.

“Ok.”

“If this gets worse Sildie we’ll have to take you home.” He said softly.

“No.” She said quietly, it came out more like petulant child’s whine. “I’ll be fine, probably just a head cold.”

“Here’s hoping, but if you get worse we go, no arguments from you.” He would hog tie her to the roof rack if he had to.

“The kids will be heartbroken they spent all that time on their fort.” Why, she thought, why when everything was going so well did shit have to fall apart? Couldn’t the kids have one fucking vacation, one fucking memory where nothing bad happened?

“The kids will understand. Your health is more important.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll be back with some soup and toast.”

Placing the soup in the biggest mug he could find he picked up the toast and brought it in for her, she was already dozing. Grazing his knuckles down her cheek she woke and focused on him, eyes glassy with fever. “Eat love. I’ve already let it cool a lot so it won’t scald your mouth.”

“Honestly that would feel better than the razor wire coiled up in it.” She sulked. She hated being sick and hated that she’d let herself get sick when the kids were finally building some good memories.

“Probably. Let me see what’s in the medical kit here at the cabin, we might get lucky with some throat lozenges or something.” She nodded and took a tentative sip of the soup. He came back to find her dunking the bread in the soup and eating slowly. He could see it was painful as she swallowed but at least she was eating. “I found a packet of lozenges and some stronger paracetamol and ibuprofen. That will have to do for the moment.”

“Better than nothing. Can you make me a ginger tea? I’ll see if I can sweat this out of me.” She handed him the empty cup and plate and got out of bed to put her base layer thermals on and a set of sweats. She was so cold her teeth were almost chattering.

“You’ll cook.” He huffed.

“Yeah, well, sweating it out is the only option I have so I’m not ruining the kids vacation.” She muttered and drank the water. Fluids and sweat it out and sleep. “Well that’s my itinerary for the next few days at least.” She mumbled bitterly as Gustaf went to make some tea.

“This is so fucking typical. I stop to rest and relax and bam, I get sick.” She grumbled to herself. After drinking the ginger tea she bundled herself up under the covers and shivered, the fever had well and truly set in. Sleep took her again and Gustaf stayed awake watching over her. Checking his phone for reception he texted his mother and she confirmed that they were doing all they could for the moment.

If it goes to her lungs bring her home and straight to the doctor. Normal cough is fine, coughing up yellow or green usually means it’s in the chest and possibly pneumonia. Don’t wait on that. Pneumonia, straight to the doctor or emergency room.

Thanks, I’ll keep you posted.

Please do. I’ll let Sam know as well.

Thanks mum.

Take care of her Gustaf.

He drifted to sleep until Lily’s cries woke him with a start, Sildie was still out cold. Brushing his knuckles to her brow he frowned, her fever was raging. He collected a cool wash cloth and wiped her face gently before placing it at the back of her neck to draw some of the heat away. The last thing he needed was her convulsing. Changing and dressing Lily quickly he woke the boys and gave them the run down. They were understandably bummed. “After breakfast I need you to pack your bags and help get everything ready in case we need to leave in a hurry ok? We’re not leaving yet, so you can play in the fort as much as you like.” They all nodded and hugged him. “She’ll be ok, were hoping it’s just a head cold.” Deep down he knew it wasn’t, not with a fever like that. The minute she started coughing they were heading home. They should probably head there now but he’d wait for now.

She slept most of the day, only waking when Gustaf forced her to drink and take pills to get the fever down. She hated him for it, but knew it was a necessary evil and he was worried. Her throat felt worse, she had a headache, and her appetite was non existent. The only blessing was she wasn’t coughing, yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She waved to the boys as they stood in the doorway and told her about the snowball fight they’d had and she smiled. At least they’d snuck in another round, she thought. And that was why she didn’t want to go yet. They needed as much time here having fun as possible.

It was around 2:30 in the morning when she started coughing. It started with an occasional one or two in her sleep, a slight tickle, but by seven she was coughing to the point of throwing up. She was a mess, hot, delirious, cold, achy, headache, the cough that wouldn’t quit, her throat so shredded and sore she could barely swallow, and she was only able to take short breaths. It felt as if her body was trying to expel her lungs out via any orifice willing to let them escape. And she was fatigued, like someone had taken all her batteries out.

“Sildie I need you to sit up love.” Gustaf said gently. “Stay sitting up ok?”

“I’m sorry.” She croaked and the tears she couldn’t hold back anymore fell. “I’m so sorry.” She cried and coughed, in no condition to keep her emotions in check.

“It’s ok love. You’re sick, let’s get you home so we can get you well ok?” He kissed her brow, the fever still raging. Whatever had her, had her fully and wasn’t letting go any time soon. “I need you to sit here while I get the boys ready and the car packed alright? Just doze and I’ll come get you when we’re ready to go.”

“Ok.” She sniffed, which only prompted another coughing fit. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok love.”

It was eleven by the time they’d packed the car up and double checked they had everything. Texting his mum he had a spot waiting at the hospital when they arrived, he’d drive them straight there.

Megan will come and sit with the kids and take them home. Sam will meet you at the hospital.

Great thanks.

How is she?

Worse. High fever, coughing until she pukes, short of breath.

It may have gone to her lungs.

That’s what I’m thinking.

Be safe, get her here as soon as you can.

Thanks mum.

Once he had the kids in the car he collected Sildie, carrying her from the bedroom straight to the car, she was barely coherent. Their vacation may have been cut short by a few days, but they’d made some memories at least, he thought as he drove. They would be back again for sure. The boys helped out so Gustaf could keep driving, feeding Lily a snack, keeping her occupied and happy. With one hand on the wheel the other held Sildie’s, the gentle squeeze every so often and reply squeeze letting him know she was at least conscious.

Megan met them all in the waiting room, Alex was with her for some additional support and a driver if needed. “Brendan.” Gustaf said quietly. “I know you’re all worried about Sildie, but I need you guys to go with Megan and Alex and let me get her seen to ok? I’ll call when I know what’s going on.” He hated doing this to the kid, the grief from the last time something major happened well in the forefront of his mind. The teen nodded barely holding back tears.

“I’ll be ok B.” Sildie croaked and winced at the pain in her throat before a coughing fit stole her breath.

Gustaf didn’t wait, he wheeled her to the desk and got her seen immediately. Sure he pulled some strings and his brother came in a moment later with the ER doctor. Sildie waved a hand at Sam, the thought of talking and the pain that came with it making her clam up. They took her away for chest X-rays and after a swab of her throat the doctor confirmed Gustaf’s suspicions, pneumonia.

“We’ll have to wait for the test results to be sure, but I’ll start you on some antibiotics, get some fluids into you and see in a few hours whether we need to admit you.”

Sildie shook her head. “I don’t want to stay.” She said, throat feeling like that razor wire had been ripped from it.

“You may not have a choice love.” Gustaf said gently.

“No.” She shook her head again and the coughing fit silenced her. “Not staying.”

“Let’s see how we go.” The doctor said and went out to order up what she needed.

“Sildie don’t make me fight you on this, if you need to stay to get well, you stay.” He had to be the voice of reason and he knew this wouldn’t end well.

“Then I’ll fucking walk out of here myself.” She spat. “I’m not staying.”

“Love you can barely stand.” He murmured, trying to keep the edge out of his tone.

“Fucking watch me.” She wheezed.

“Breathe love.” That wheeze was panic not pneumonia, though neither helped her right now.

“I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.” She hissed.

“That’s because your lungs are full of fluid.” Sam said gently. “Sildie I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you might want to consider staying.”

She shook her head. “Not. Staying.” Her voice breathless, but the edge was still there. That edge that clearly said don’t fuck with me.

The nurse came in and hooked her up to an IV, the drip forcing fluids in at breakneck speed, the antibiotics they added hitting her hard. Within about twenty minutes she was almost asleep.

“Lay back and rest love. We’ll be here for a bit.” He kissed her temple and wiped the tears. “I need to go call the kids let them know what’s going on ok? I promised them.”

“Don’t leave.” She cried softly. “Please don’t leave.” Complete panic took over, her wheeze almost causing her to pass out.

“I’ll call them Goose.” Sam said catching on. “Stay with her.”

“Tell them I’m ok.” She croaked. “And I love them and I’m coming home and I won’t leave them.” It clicked for Gustaf then, he should have see it like a flashing neon sign and mentally kicked himself. Fear.

“I will.” Sam smiled at her. “I’ll tell them you’ll call in a little bit ok?” She nodded and wiped her tears away, angry they’d fallen.

“I’m sorry love, I should have realized.” Gustaf said tenderly and held her hand not occupied by the IV, thumb stroking her inner wrist. She just shrugged and closed her eyes, willing the whole process to go faster so she could go home.

“It’s stupid. I’m a grown ass woman scared out of her fucking mind about being left in a hospital.” She mumbled before the coughing fit took her breath away.

“It’s not stupid and stop talking.” He said holding up his hand as her eyes focused on him when she opened her mouth. “I won’t leave you here, I won’t make you stay. You will however, do whatever it is the doctor tells you to do, no arguments. None Sildie.” He said sternly as she was about to protest. “You wanting to argue with me tells me this stuff is already working.” He kissed her fingers. “Close your eyes, rest, sleep. I’ll stay right here.” With that he kicked back in the chair and read his book he thankfully had on his phone.

The hours ticked by and she slept, to the point where the doctor came in to assess her and decided that while she was out cold to add another bag of fluids and antibiotics. Gustaf was more worried about the fever now than her lungs as she shivered, the heat radiating off her, hot and dry.

“I’ll have them draw some antibiotic shots for you to take home, we can keep her on the IV until the fever breaks, the bags are easy enough to change out. It’s either that or I admit her.”

“You’d have to knock her out and she’d never forgive me.” Gustaf said wearily, he was so tired.

“I’ll get you setup then.” He smiled. “Lay down next to her and get some sleep. I’ll discharge her in the morning unless her condition changes. Let’s keep her here as long as we can.”

“Thanks.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry about her outburst before.”

“No need, I remember her brother and wife.” Gustaf nodded, there wouldn’t be many in this hospital that didn’t remember.

Sildie barely moved when he stretched out beside her. Quietly he pulled the side bumper up so he could lean against it without falling out. “Lovely lady.” He sighed out, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. He breathed out and relaxed, she was in the right place for help, he was here with her, the kids were safe with Megan and his brother. It was the best he could do. It has to be enough, he thought. Even half comatose she found him, his scent wrapping around her. She shifted, curling against him, seeking the comfort and security of his body, of him. “I’m here love.” He murmured and caged her in with his massive frame. “Sleep now, rest.” He mumbled. Gustaf felt himself slip into sleep, the exhaustion finally pulling him under.

Gustaf wasn’t sure how long he crashed out for. However, Sildie attempting to get out of the bed woke him in an instant. “Sildie?” He murmured.

“I need to pee.” She fought with the covers trying to get free of them, her strength was non existent.

“Ok, let me help.” He said softly, half expecting the snap of her temper, it surprised him when it didn’t come. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” She croaked as she accepted his hand to steady her as she got to her feet, her cough stopping her cold. It stole her breath and he could see her chest heave as she fought for oxygen.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom then back on the oxygen.” He helped her shuffle to the bathroom with the IV pole, her legs weak like jelly. Sitting her on the toilet he left her to take care of business and stood outside, the door cracked open so he could hear her if she fell or passed out. He got her settled in bed again and sat beside her. “You should stay a few days love.” He held his hand up to silence her. “I understand you don’t want to stay, and if it was something a little less serious I’d agree with you, but you’re sick love, you’re struggling to breathe, and you’re fever is still raging. You need to be here, getting fluids and antibiotics to kick the crap out of whatever is destroying your system.” It broke his heart as tears streaked down her cheeks. “I love you Sildie, and I know being here scares you, I know that it’s the absolute last place you want to be, but we need to get you well love.” He took a Kleenex and handed it to her, the coughing and tears making her nose run. His decision to keep her here was strengthened when the tissue came away pink, tinged with blood. “I’ll do it with or without your approval love, but we need to admit you and get you better. Your approval will make it easier. You can hate me for it once you’re well.”

“I don’t want to be here on my own.” She sobbed quietly, she had no energy to fight him on it, her body wanting nothing more than to shut down entirely.

“I know love, and I’ll be here with you, but at some point I’ll need to go see to the kids and calm them down because I have a feeling they’ll be freaking out a little by now.”

“I need to see them.” She sniffed. “Be with them, not here.”

“I’ll bring them to visit.” He kissed her brow and willed her to just let him take care of her. “Let’s get you settled, I’ll see if Bill or dad can come and sit with you and I’ll go get the kids and bring them here for a visit.” He gripped her chin gently and brushed his thumb over her cheek as she cried. “I know you hate this and you’re angry at me for forcing you, manhandling you. I’m not doing it for giggles, it makes me sick to the stomach.” Her eyes met his. “I love you Sildie, let me take care of you.” Her subtle nod had him breathe a steady breath of relief.

As the admissions staff got her settled he phoned his family, Eija was free and would be there in thirty to sit with Sildie. He needed to get home, shower, eat, and get a grip on how he was going to function with the kids over the next few days. He called Megan and spoke with the boys, the fear evident on their faces as they FaceTimed.

“She’s ok, we just have to keep her here for a few days so they can make her better.” He said gently.

“Can we come see her?” Brendan asked, his voice shaky.

“I’m going to get her settled in and come home. Once I’ve had a shower and food we’ll come visit her later this afternoon ok?”

“Ok.” The teen nodded.

“Brendan?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s ok.” He saw the kids shoulders relax and knew it would be better once they saw her.

Eija waved to him as he paced waiting to see Sildie. “I’ll hang out until she’s settled.”

“Sounds good. She ok?”

“Pneumonia. It got her pretty good.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want to be here, same hospital as Quinn and Dana were in.”

“Oh shit.” She breathed.

“Yeah, the kids are freaking out a little too.” He blew out a breath and slumped against the wall.

“Just breathe big brother, you got this and we’ll help.” She smiled at him.

“Have I ever told you you’re the best little sister a guy could have?” He sighed.

“I’m the only little sister you have doofus.” She slapped him playfully as Gustaf hugged her.

“Thanks Eija.”

“Anytime goose. You two are good together.”

“Yeah we are.”

“She’s the one isn’t she?” Eija said softly.

“She is.” It was said without hesitation and was the absolute truth. Sildie was his soulmate and he’d protect and care for her until his last breath.

The nurse came and found him and took him into see her, she looked so small and frail curled up, eyes closed. Eija waited outside as he sat on the edge of the bed and toyed with her hair, it had lost its shine. Her eyes opened at his touch.

“Hey there lovely lady.”

“Hi.” She whispered, her voice and throat too raw to speak properly.

“Eija’s outside she’s going to sit with you for a bit ok?” She nodded at his words. “I’m going to head home and bring the kids back this afternoon. I’ll bring you your toothbrush and stuff.” He kissed her brow as the tears fell. “I’m coming back love, I need you to sleep and let the meds do their job.” She nodded again and it broke his heart to have to do this to her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Her fingers gripped him, her separation anxiety flaring. Eija came in when Gustaf called softly.

“Not quite the girls day in, but I’ve worked with worse.” Eija grinned and it got a slight smile from Sildie.

“I’ll be back this afternoon love.” He kissed her hair and stepped away, he had to make it a clean breakaway or he’d never go. Eija sat in the chair and started talking, pulling Sildie’s attention to her. As he closed her door he leaned against the wall and took a few breaths.

“You’re killing me love.” He sighed, letting his head thud against the wall. “Fucking killing me.”

The doctor updated him, she’d be in for a bare minimum of four to six days. She was slightly improved this morning but not enough now she was coughing up blood and Gustaf felt a little better at forcing her to be admitted. He headed straight home, a shower and food at the top of his to do list. As he sat for food, the clean clothes making him feel like a new man, he organized a schedule with his family for the kids to be watched and someone to be with Sildie while he bounced between the hospital and home. He knew this was going to shackle Sildie, make her feel like she’s being handled, incompetent, but he had little choice and would take her wrath if it came to that. He felt like an asshole for pushing her, but her health was more important, she could rage at him after. His next call was to Oliver. Sildie was supposed to start back at the office on Monday, that was going to be postponed a few days. The kids tackled him in a group hug when he stepped through his fathers front door, he saw the worry on their faces, that deep seated fear for Sildie. “She’s ok, Aunt Eija is hanging out with her until we get there.” He took Lily from his dad as she lunged for him with her usual dad dad squeal.

“I’ll come with you, bring them back home tonight, I’ll stay with them at your place, they’ll settle better in their own beds.” Stellan said softly.

“I’ll need to stay with her overnight.” Gustaf said, knowing she’d sleep and heal faster with him there while she slept.

“As you should, she needs you.” They sat at the table and Megan sat a coffee and a plate of cookies beside it, the gentle squeeze of his forearm reassuring him that he’d done the right thing. “We’ll take care of the kids, you focus on Sildie.”

“She’s pissed at me for having her admitted.” He snorted as he bit into a cookie, Lily wanting one. He gave her a small piece and she stuffed it in her mouth devouring it.

“She’ll get over it.” Stellan assured him. “Sometimes you’re screwed either way. She’s sick, you made the right decision, don’t doubt that. She’ll see that once she’s able to think straight.” Gustaf nodded at his statement, he still felt like shit for overruling her, especially when she was so fiercely independent.

His conversation with his father and Megan relaxed him, taking the edge off his own anxiety. Loading the kids into the car, his father drove so Gustaf didn’t have to focus on traffic. He was exhausted already.

“Feels weird being back here.” Brendan mumbled and Gustaf pulled him in close for a hug as they walked.

“She’s feeling much the same way.” He told the teen, Brendan got it, he understood it a little better than the twins.

His heart lightened as he stepped into the room. She was sitting up trying to eat something, Eija eating her own sandwich. He watched her face light up at seeing him, the kids rushing in. “Ok, boys, don’t make her talk, it hurts.” He chuckled and she waved him off.

She didn’t care if it hurt to talk, she was relieved to see the kids. The boys told her about what they were doing and their stay at grandpa’s, their speech going a hundred miles a minute. “It sounds worse than it is.” She croaked, the use of her voice sending her into a coughing fit.

No, he thought, it’s much worse than you’re letting on love, but nice try. She was trying to set their minds at ease knowing they would be freaking out much more than she was. He sat Lily on the bed and she crawled into Sildie’s outstretched arms, the both of them needing the contact, her soft mum mum making Sildie smile.

“Hi little lady.” She whispered, whispering didn’t hurt as much. The rest of her felt as if she’d been dragged behind a truck for a thousand miles. So fatigued, just keeping her eyes open was a struggle, her bones feeling like someone had replaced them with lead, and she had a nagging headache. She knew Gustaf had made the right call by forcing her to stay and felt like a cranky bitch for fighting him on it. She’d grovel later, oh how she’d grovel.

He watched her energy fade, the fight to stay present for the kids, to make sure they were alright. Eija said her goodbyes and told Sildie she’d be back tomorrow to give her a manicure and watch some really bad b movies while Gustaf had kid duty. The boys crowded in for a group hug, the separation not as brutal as Gustaf had envisioned. Stellan had after all promised ice cream so the kids were putty in his hands. They were suddenly alone and he saw her relax back, eyes closing, it had exhausted her energy reserves.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Rest love.” He sat on the bed and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“No, about fighting you on being here.” Her hand searched for his and she squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed her temple and lingered. “I would have tied you to the bed if necessary.” He growled and she huffed a chuckle which made her cough. “Shall we get you up for a bathroom break and to brush your teeth?” Her nod was enough. “You’ll feel like a new woman with clean teeth.” He helped her shuffle to and from the bathroom, a smile from her after cleaning her teeth lightening his heart. He sat her on the edge of the bed and undid her braid, gently brushing her hair, the action soothing them both. She leaned into him as brush and fingers soothed her anxiety, lulled and relaxed her body and mind. He took his time braiding her hair, the kiss to her head lingering to breathe in her scent and offer her the same comfort. “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Are you staying?” She asked, her words shaky.

“I’m staying.” He kissed her temple and got off the bed to help her get settled. Putting the bumper up he stretched out behind her and raised the bumper on his side so he wouldn’t fall out.

His arm came around her snuggling her in. “I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you too, sleep now love, let your body heal.”

“Thank you for staying.”

“Nowhere else I’d be.” He kissed her head and felt her relax, giving herself over to the fatigue and plummet into sleep.

That was his brutal routine for the next five days, wake, help Sildie, go see the kids, bring the kids to see Sildie, stay with her overnight, rinse, repeat. The upside was she was getting better, eating a little more, coughing a little less, but she was still fatigued and from what Sam had said she would be for weeks once she got out of the hospital. His time spent with the kids at home was put to good use finding a cleaner and persuading Alice into working for them part time while he was away, starting a few weeks before he left to get used to their routine. At least Sildie would have breathing room when she got home to take the load off, the only issue, getting her to slow down until she was back to full health.

She woke to the feel of him next to her. Her lanky man curled up in a bed not really made for someone of his height and massive frame snuggled in close. Rolling she looked at him, he was exhausted, dark circles painted under his eyes, a slightly haggard look of someone under a shit ton of stress with not enough sleep. She’d put that look there and felt terrible about it. Her own stupid stubbornness and pride. May as well have beaten him about the head with it, she scolded herself. Her head was clearer than it had been in days, the headache a dull roar, her throat still raw. But it was the soul crushing fatigue that she couldn’t handle. She needed a nap every few hours not able to stay upright or awake, her body was literally making her slow down or putting her down on her ass.

His eyes snapped open as fingers brushed his scruff, ice blue eyes looked back. Clearer than yesterday and she had a little more color in her cheeks. “Morning love.” He said softly, his arms tightening his hold on her as if she’d slip from his grasp.

“Morning.” Her whisper was still more comfortable than talking.

“You’re looking better.” He smiled. “Less corpse like.”

“Feeling better, little bit.” She shrugged and his smile got bigger. That was more than she’d said or done in nearly a week. “Can we go home?”

It was the first time she’d asked that since he had her admitted. “I can ask.”

“I’m glad you put me in here, I needed it, but I want to go home now, be in our bed.” He kissed her forehead.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Her fever had finally broken two nights ago, she was a normal temperature instead of that raging inferno burning her from the inside out.

“And I want to shower. I feel gross.” She chuckled.

“I think we can manage that.” He kissed her tenderly before prying himself from her side. Making sure she’d started eating, he went to the nurses station to page the doctor for her to be released, he really hoped he allowed it because fighting with her on this again would be the end of him. He needed a few days sleep in their bed too.

“Well Sildie you’re doing much better.” The doctor said positively. “But if I send you home you’re going to need to continue to rest and not push yourself. The fatigue you’re feeling is normal and it’ll take a few weeks for your body to bounce back. Your energy is going to be low for a little while longer and I want you to stay on the course of antibiotics for another two weeks.”

“She’ll behave or I’ll bring her right back.” Gustaf said in that tone that told her he meant every word and would in fact tie her to the bed if he had to bring her back. He raised his eyebrow at her glare, just try me, he thought.

“If your body says sleep, you sleep. The more you sleep, the more you rest, the faster you’ll heal.” The doctor added.

“I’ll rest.” She whispered, and she would, she didn’t want to see Gustaf look like this again, like he’d not slept or eaten in a month because she’d scared him halfway to an early grave. “I just want to do it at home.”

“Ok then. I’ll get one more round of IV antibiotics into you and you can go home this afternoon.” He said and that was that.

“Do you want a shower now or after they pull the IV?” Gustaf asked.

“After. I want to scrub this place off me before I leave.” She smiled. “You’re so tired love.” Her whisper caught in her throat. How could she have done this to him?

“I’ll be ok once you’re home and we can sleep for a few days.” His smile weary.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault love, shit happens.” He kissed her gently.

“Not your fault either.” Her fingers over his lips and the slight shake of her head silenced his retort. “It’s not. I probably picked up the bug ten days or so before I showed symptoms. It could even be as far back as the Christmas party. The doctor said with the bug and the amount of stress I’d been under it was no wonder I ended up sick.” She kissed him gently. “Not your fault at all my sweet man.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as the relief flooded him.

“And I’m sorry I snapped, freaked out.” She added.

“I understand why. After everything that happened here I don’t think I’d want to be here either. Sam was here, mum works here too, they know me, us, it’s was easier. Next time I’ll take you to a different...”

“No. It’s fine. I just need to stop freaking out. That was then, this is now. Just the entire thing got shoved in my face, pushed my anxiety to the brink and being sick made it worse.”

“The kids were a mess when I went home the first night.” He said softly.

“I’m not surprised. That was the other reason I didn’t want to be here, what it would do to them. I didn’t want to put them through all this shit again.”

“They’re ok love and will be happy you’re on your way home. I know I am.”

“I want our bed.” She sighed. “In our home.”

“Oh fuck me I hear you on that one.” He chuckled.

“Are we ok?”

His brow creased in a frown. “Stronger than ever love.”

“I hurt you and I’m sorry.” His fingers toyed with the wisps of hair at her face, tucking them behind her ear.

“You didn’t hurt me Sildie, just scared a few years off me.” He kissed her temple. “No more now, we move past it. Get you better, lots of sleep and rest, and get those goddess curves back where they belong.” She’d lost weight, a substantial amount and she looked gaunt.

“You saying I’m too skinny?” She played.

“I like your curves.” He growled. “I’d like them back please kitten.” He hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him before slowly kissing her, that tender yet erotic kiss that made her toes curl.

“Then I need more than jelly.” She screwed up her face, clearly over the taste of it.

“I’ll get you settled in at home and go get whatever you want.”

“Pho. Buckets and buckets of pho and coconut shrimp.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“I need to lay down again.” She sighed. “Just being vertical wears me out.”

“Lay down and I’ll go make some calls, let dad and Megan know you’re coming home.” He said standing and helping her back into bed. “Dad’s been at our place with the kids so they can sleep in their own beds. And before you get upset, he chose to stay so they’d have more stability, it was the right call.”

“I know, it’s just... what a fucking mess.” She sighed.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s family, we stick together.”

“Still acclimating.” She mumbled as he kissed the top of her head and smirked.

“They’ll grow on you.” He said as she coughed. It was still there but not as bad as before, that was progress, it still left her short of breath. “Nap time, I’ll find you some ice cream or something and I have calls to make.” The real progress was her not clinging to him for dear life because he left her alone in the room for five minutes.

After talking with Stellan for nearly an hour he made his way to the dessert shop across the street from the hospital. With a tub of sorbet in hand he grinned as he saw her dozing. With the tiniest amount on the spoon he pressed it to her lips, her eyes fluttering open. “I would leave you napping but this will melt and it’s sacrilege to waste premium pear sorbet.” He said softly,

“Yes it is.” That smile, he thought, how he’d missed that smile. He handed her the tub and pulled his own out of the bag, she giggled which ended in a coughing fit. “I’m ok, better to cough it up than keep it in there.” She said and started to eat. “I can’t taste much but that feels so good on my throat.”

“Don’t make yourself puke. He chuckled. “That’s why I only got you a small one.”

“It’s enough and it’s not jelly.” She said eating another spoonful.

They talked as the final IV bag and medication worked it’s way through her system, the nurse coming by and giving her the last dose of antibiotics by injection and pulling the IV out. The nurse ran through her meds and got her ready for discharge, the doctor coming by saying she could leave when she was ready. “I want a hot shower before I go anywhere.” She chuckled and started coughing.

“Need some help?” He smirked.

“You are not fucking me in the hospital shower.” She quipped as she shuffled past.

“No sex for you for a while, period.” He countered. “I want you at peak performance when I have you next kitten.” He growled, kissing her hand before nipping her knuckles.

“Now there’s some motivation.” He heard her mutter as she closed the bathroom door. Smiling to himself he packed up her things, knowing she’d want to hightail it out of here as soon as she stepped out of the shower.

At this moment in time the shower she was currently broiling herself under was better than sex. There was nothing in the world like a good hair wash and scrub after you’d been sick and wallowing in your own sweat even when you’d done the personal hygiene wash twice every day. She emerged a new woman, had Gustaf help her dry her hair as she was already tiring, and dressed in some leggings and a sweater, total comfort.

He wasn’t wrong, no sooner had her feet pushed into her shoes she was ready to go. “Stay here I’ll bring the car around.” He said as he wheeled her to the foyer.

“Ok.”

He left her sitting in the wheelchair just inside the door to keep her in the warmth and jogged to the car, pulling up at the curb a little while later. She felt bad for having to lean on him so much, her energy fading as they drove home. “We’ll take it slowly, there’s no rush, the kids are still at grandpa’s with Valter.”

“Mario Cart wars?”

“Something like that. It took their mind of everything.” He chuckled.

“Good thinking.”

They made it to the elevator when the coughing fit started, the cold air getting into her lungs and bringing her up short. Pulling her sweater up over her nose and mouth to breathe warmer air she tried to level out her breathing as they took the ride up. “Damn that’s fucking dynamite.” She sighed exhausted.

“I bet.”

“I cough so much and I can’t stop. It makes me want to puke.” She whispered.

“Your body doesn’t want all the muck in there anymore.”

“Nope.” She said shuffling to the front door. “Home.” She sighed and he thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Her tone held such longing and love, they were home, their home. He opened the door to balloons and a welcome home sign the boys had made strung up over the kitchen island. Those boys jumped up excitedly and hugged her as she shuffled inside. Such love in this apartment now, he thought as he watched them, that smile on Sildie’s face both joy and relief.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb @grimeundglow

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction

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kimburgess-ruzek · 3 years ago

Text

shattered.

chapter three: all at once.

summary: burzek/upstead/whole unit. intelligence had been through the worst of the worst trying to get one of their own back alive. Each member has been to their own personal hell. Will everyone make it back, or will the cracks in Intelligence be big enough for the entire team to shatter?

chapter summary: a look into each member of intelligence’s mind after adam sent them home from med.

a/n: this is a pretty slow chapter again but i wrote almost double to this and decided to just split it up. next chapter should be up in a couple of days. i also like the stream of consciousness type writing here. next should have more dialogue and everyone together (finally!!)

word count: 3.1k

masterlist here!

read on ao3!

all at once.

darkness. there’s something about it that makes it both intimidating and peaceful. with darkness, comes the unknown, comes loneliness. but with it also comes quiet, peace. and that’s what consumed kim right now. all around her was darkness, quietness, loneliness. she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. all she could do was nothing. she felt scared, claustrophobic in the abyss of darkness. she wanted to scream, wanted to jump up and down and plead for help, but she couldn’t. something was pulling her down, further back into the darkness, and she just couldn’t move. She couldn’t even fight it, whatever it was. it was too overbearing, too powerful for kim. and all kim could do was panic and be pulled down further.

the warmth of inside the house began to thaw the icy, purplish hands of voight’s. even with gloves, the wind gushed and the snow seeped through the leather. it took all of hank’s power to get the blood pumping through his fingers in order to grip the steering wheel. nevertheless, he persisted. with his cold, stiff fingers, he turned the lock on his door, took off his boots, and trekked to the bathroom for the hottest shower he could dream of.

kevin laid in his bed, eyes open and mind racing. he tried to sleep and it never came. he even tried laying still with his eyes closed, but his mind wouldn’t let him. because every time he closed his eyes, the image of kim, near lifeless in that buick, resurfaced.

god why did it have to be kim?

kevin had spent his whole life witnessing and experience injustice. even little things like being followed by a worker inside a grocery store and being asked where he was going at night, when he was just walking home. little things like that. but as he got older, he quickly realized being a black man in chicago does not lend equality. being a black man in america does not lend equality. and that’s why he wanted to become a cop. because he saw all of the injustices happen in his hometown, and he wanted to create a difference. rewrite the narrative. and while his difference would be small, it would be huge in the eyes of a little boy watching someone that looked like him have his back.

and when the narrative finally started to shift, when people finally began to see the injustices happening, when they decided to not let it go unnoticed, kevin still had to face hardship. this time, though, it was from the people who he at one time thought were his family. the blue family. but when he decided to stand up for what he saw as just, for what america saw as just, those people turned on him. neglected him, sought after him, beat him, manipulated him. and kevin was broken. he was utterly broken. he was scared. no he was terrified. but the one thing that kevin could appreciate was that his team began to see what kevin saw. they saw their team member, their family, being beaten and harassed. and kevin liked that they had his back. he needed that, because he didn’t feel all alone. he felt appreciated, understood, and love. and even though not everyone on the team completely agreed with his beliefs, they all still had his back. even adam, who was a third generation cop, sided with him and not the other blues. and that meant everything to him.

then something in adam switched. and what it was, kevin didn’t know. but something changed, and adam began to change to his old ways. his old habits. and it was gradual. it was slow. it started with the little jabs that would result in an ‘i’m sorry bro, but i still have your back.’ and kevin would push it aside, thinking to himself that adam is trying, but it’s hard to change a philosophy in a short amount of time. but it kept getting worse, adam’s way with the new code of conduct. and with the accumulation of jabs, it eventually became a punch to kevin’s gut. maybe people can’t change their philosophy, no matter how hard they try.

but the straw that broke the camel’s back for adam was this. when kim went missing. kevin saw something he had never seen before, ever, in his eight years of working with him. he saw pure hatred. he saw pure vengeance. he knew adam still loved kim. hell, everyone knew adam still loved kim. but that doesn’t mean adam can do whatever he wanted to, whatever he thought he needed to, in order to get what he wanted. he put a gun to a man’s head. for all they knew, an innocent man’s head. and adam didn’t think twice about it. but just because kevin wanted to go about this by the book, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t love kim too. this was kim. did adam think he didn’t love kim? kim was kevin’s partner. she was his rock when he needed it. she helped raise jordan and vanessa. kevin loved kim. and her going missing was eating him up inside. when he heard that call over the radio, all kevin wanted to do was search every house, every building, until he found kim. but he knew he couldn’t. it would be too slow and too unreasonable. and kevin knew that wouldn’t find kim. and he also knew he couldn’t do that because of everything still happening today. he was still a black man in chicago, and if he went in shouting lies and threatening people with guns, then he would suffer worse consequences than adam did. so as much as kevin wanted to find kim, he couldn’t do it the way adam was doing it. and kevin wasn’t resentful. rather, he was hurt.

and when kevin found kim, all he wanted to do was cry. cry tears of joy because they found her but also tears of sorrow because of how badly she looked. and to be honest, kevin was too afraid to get up close to kim at first for the worst fear. so he checked the warehouse for roy or kent instead. and when jay announced kim was still alive, kevin’s adrenaline shot back up and his mind was laser focused on getting kim to med. when kevin finally got to see kim close up, he couldn’t stop the tears this time. to see his best friend, his sister, beaten, handcuffed, shot, and near lifeless in his arms. it was almost too much to bear. him and jay never spoke a word on the way to med, both too much in their thoughts. kevin, all he could feel was guilt. she shouldn’t have been alone. she shouldn’t have done the undercover pass. it shouldn’t have been her. and maybe adam was right. maybe kevin should’ve fought harder, because if he did, maybe kim wouldn’t have been this dire.

kevin was lost in his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. confused on who it was, he crawled out of bed and trudged his way to the door, mentally telling himself to put his foot in front of the other. when he got there he looked in the peep hole and saw someone he didn’t expect to be at his door.

trudy.

kevin opened the door to the cold chicago wind.

“trudy, what’re you doing here?”

trudy quickly responded through her shivers, “if you don’t let me in within the next five seconds i’ll make sure voight bumps you down to patrol for a week.”

with that, kevin opened the door wider and allowed trudy inside. even though he knew it was a fake threat and he appreciated trudy’s joke, he was too tired to laugh.

kevin closed the door and went to pour trudy a cup of warm coffee. trudy took off her coat and sat on kevin’s couch, blowing warm air to her hands to try and warm them up. after a minute kevin walked to the couch with a mug and handed it to trudy before sitting down and asking again, “trudy, this is a nice surprise, but what are you doing here? is everything alright?”

trudy took a generous sip of her coffee and replied, “well, i just wanted to check on you. you know, see how you were doing.”

kevin was caught off guard. “i appreciate that trudy, i do… i’m hanging in there. still trying to let my mind catch up to me, you know.”

trudy nodded and put a hand to kevin’s leg. “you know, i never got to thank you for being there for kim with jay. you are a strong man, kev. and i am truly thankful.” tears welled up in trudy’s eyes, making kevin’s water too.

“i appreciate that, trudy.”

trudy cleared her throat. “okay, so how are you really doing?”

kevin shrugged his shoulders. “i said i’m doing ok—“ before kevin could finish his sentence, trudy cut him off.

“no. for real, kev. i saw the interaction you and adam had earlier. how are you doing?”

kevin swallowed hard and but his tongue, trying to find the right response. he looked up at his sergeant’s eyes and told what he was really feeling inside.

“i feel alone. i don’t have anybody.”

kevin couldn’t stop the tears this time. and kevin didn’t care, letting them trickle down his face. he was ashamed of feeling this way after everything kim had gone through. he saw it as selfish and unthoughtful. but it was true. kevin did feel lonely. he felt like no one understood him, no one was with him.

this broke trudy’s heart. she witnessed the tension between kevin and adam, and she never saw them like that in her career of knowing them. and she knew they both had their sides, but right now she felt for kevin.

she patted him on the back and said, “look at me. kevin, look at me.”

it took a while for kevin to semi-compose himself and look back up at trudy’s eyes. trudy moved her hand up to kevin’s shoulder.

“you are not alone. you are not alone in this. you have me. you hear that? you have me.”

kevin just nodded, feeling overwhelmed. all he could do was mutter a “thank you” in between his tears. he gave in and leaned in towards trudy, who wrapped him in a hug and let him just feel his emotions.

“i’m not leaving here until you feel everything you need to feel, kev. i’m not leaving you.”

the darkness continued to surround kim. and as much as she wanted to fight, as much as she felt like she needed to fight, all she wanted to do was stop. to give in to the abyss and be pulled down deeper. she was tired of fighting all of the time. she was just tired. and the darkness was becoming oddly calming. just herself. no dangerous situation, no bad guys. nothing. nothing except her and the darkness.

just as kim was about to give in and let the darkness consume her, she felt something. she felt something on her hand. it was something outside of the darkness, outside of the abyss. it felt like another hand. like something, someone was helping to pull her out. kim was confused. she never felt that before now. and she was caught in her decision on what to do. does she ignore the help, ignore the hand and drown back into the abyss where it's quiet, dark and safe? or does she take the hand, take the big leap and see what happens? does she allow the help? caught in her back and forth of her decision she felt the hand again. this time more persistent. and this made kim make an impulse decision and reach out for the hand. she reached as far as she could, only allowing for her fingertips to graze the other person’s fingers. and when she did, she swore she saw the smallest glimmer of light. it was so small, kim could’ve swore she saw lies. but nevertheless, she saw something in the far, far distance. but at the same time, the darkness began to pull harder, dragging her back down. and soon, the hand, along with the light, disappeared, being too far out of kim’s grasp.

the hot water of the shower felt glorious to voight’s body. it was washing away the grime and dirt from his hands. and down the drain also went voight’s lingering thoughts on the last 48 hours.

jay actually got a few hours of good sleep. he woke up to the sounds of car horns and the sunlight shining through the half closed curtains. he looked down and saw hailey in his arms. hailey, her beautiful messy hair perfectly laid on her shoulders, her skin just peeking over the bedsheets, her snuggled into his bare chest. this is how it was supposed to be. no fear, no craziness. just normal, calm, peaceful bliss.

jay couldn’t help but smile at hailey, seeing how perfectly imperfect she looked. she looked as to finally be getting some shut eye, which jay was happy about. he knew something was off about her last night, but he can’t figure it out. and hailey won’t tell him which just raises the concern. and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the proposal. what made hailey want to do that? it is so unlike her character. jay could hardly wrap his mind around it. but nevertheless, he was glad to see hailey actually get some rest after everything she had been through the last few days. and while he wanted to know what went down when he was separated from her, his priority was making sure she felt safe and loved, and if that means just being there for her and letting her talk when she's ready, then he was okay with that.

jay began brushing through hailey’s hair, playing with it with his fingers. this stirred hailey awake. she moaned at the sun and turned over. her eyes ever so slowly opened, and jay smirked at her.

“hey beautiful.” jay said, propping his elbow on the bed, sitting up. he moved his hand from her hair to her back, pulling her to him, leaving zero empty space.

hailey blinked a few times, letting her brain wake up. she let out a groggy, “hi.”

jay let out a laugh. hailey asked, “what time is it?”

jay turned his head and glanced outside at the bright light. he reached down and picked his phone up from his pants pocket and saw the time.

“12:39.”

“hmmm…” hailey let out, snuggling further down on jay’s chest. she closed her eyes, “too early…”

jay grinned and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on hailey’s head. with that she woke up and pulled jay in for another kiss on the lips.

“mmmm, i’m not finished from last night.” she let out in between kisses. she pushed jay down and moved on top of him, gliding down his chest with gentle kisses. she giggled and pulled the sheets over top of them for round two.

jay didn’t oblige.

kim had felt something she knew it. she had felt that glimmer of help. of hope. she tried moving her arms to feel that bend again, but the darkness was constraining her, holding her arms back. it felt as if it was trying to suffocate her.

kim was tired. all she wanted to do was give up. to just let the darkness overtake her. she felt as if she didn’t have the fight left in her.

all of a sudden, kim thought she heard something. it sounded like faint voice. she couldn’t make anything out, but she heard something. someone. then kim stopped for a moment and thought. she thought really hard.

what would happen if she didn’t fight anymore?

sure, her parents would be sad. but if anything, they would just think to themselves, ‘i told you so, never should’ve became a cop.’ nicole would be devastated, but they haven’t spoken in a while, so she would probably learn to manage. same with zoe. the team would be sad. but would they? they would be down a member, but they could always find someone else. i mean she would miss them for sure. she would miss jay and voight and hailey. she would miss platt. she would miss kevin definitely. she would miss adam…

adam.

what would adam do if she stopped fighting? did adam still care about kim? after everything she said to him? after letting her impulses take over her heart? would he even miss her? after putting him with the burden of makayla.

makayla. oh god, makayla. makayla, who had just lost her entire family. who just lost a mother.

this made kim change her perspective. this set off a fight in kim. she couldn’t let her parents watch their child be buried. she couldn’t let the team go through hell to get her back only for her to give up. she couldn’t die before letting adam know how she actually feels. she couldn’t let makayla grow up without a mom. she wouldn’t let that happen.

so kim fought. she fought against the darkness. she didn’t give in. and all of a sudden, kim heard something. something faint. she heard someone’s voice. like someone was talking to her. this was the extra motivation she needed. kim fought harder, and she managed to get one arm out of the darkness’s grasp. she reached out as far as she could, waving her hand around to feel something. anything, that could help. she reached with her fingertips, and she felt something. she felt the hand again. she grasped on to that hand, and when she did, she saw that glimmer of light again. she pulled with that hand, focusing on the light. focusing on adam, and makayla, and her future. kim was exhausted but she kept pushing herself. she kept fighting. she then heard a sound. it was the voice again. she could’ve spent it sounded familiar.

adam?

kim managed to free her other arm and clutched on to the hand with both arms. she pulled and pulled and pulled. and as she did, the light became brighter. light began to overcome the darkness. the darkness began to fade back behind her, losing the fight. kim had tried to focus on the light but it became massively bright for her tired eyes. she had to eventually look away, though still focusing on keeping ahold of the hand.

the light kept getting brighter, gradually, then all at once.

#chicago pd #cpd shattered fanfiction #burzek #burzek fic #kim burgess #kim burgess fic #adam ruzek #kevin atwater #trudy platt #jay halstead #hailey upton #hank voight

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egoludes · 5 years ago

Text

heat wave.

summary: as brooklyn’s temperatures rise, so does one woman’s interest in her local mechanic.

note: honestly, this is nothing but gratuitous 1950s!bucky smut inspired by @siennarossi blessing me with picnic content and the image of that seb under a car that’s plagued me ever since. the summer theme came out of nowhere, but i’m sick of snow so it felt right. hope you all enjoy!

wc: 8.8k

warnings: nsfw (18+), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cheating, introspection about unhappy relationships / societal expectations for relationships, a bit of angst

july twenty-first — ninety-one degrees.

There's something about summertime in Brooklyn. Days of eighty-eight degrees with humidity to boot, it’s a menace, an absolute force. But for all its faults, nothing can compare to the sunny shores of Coney Island; to the chorus of children’s laughter, untouched by schoolwork; or to late nights in Prospect Park with cicadas overhead. They make the heat tolerable most days, even pleasant others ---- until the twenty-first of July.

It starts at dawn, sun barely risen when the air starts to thicken. And by the time the city comes to, it’s to air too dense to breathe and heat so heavy it’s disarming. Even you, pretty girl from down south, can’t remember a time that you’d experienced ninety-one degrees; but it only takes a brief taste of it (the walk to your mailbox and back) to want to hide away for the rest of the day.

But, that’s just wishful thinking. Even when it’s so muggy, routine is what you have. You’re newly married, after all --- a late June wedding on the back of a six-month workplace courtship — and you want to make the honeymoon last. You want to prove that you’re as suited for this, for him as you’d thought you were when you said ‘yes’ to his proposal. So, there are things to do, errands to run, and there’s no avoiding the outside to get it all done.

That doesn’t mean you won’t do your damndest to delay it, though. Your husband already gone for the day, you start your chores to light jazz, trumpet notes grainy on your centerpiece record player. An air conditioner — the first on the block — sits inviting, but unused on the far windowsill; you don’t want to risk the electricity in heat like this. Instead, you’ve settled for an old fan that drones beneath the music you’re swaying your hips to. In due time, you’ve found a steady rhythm: laundry, cleaning, a dusting here and there — you pause a few times for something cool, but you find it isn’t as unbearable as you’d feared.

Then, comes groceries — the one task that requires you to leave your refuge. Shopping list in one hand and car keys in the other, you eye the front door warily because you know what’s on the other side. At least here, the heat is just that; sticky weight as the temperature rises faster than a fan can handle. Out there, you have heat and sunlight, working together to make ninety-something degrees feel a lot more like a hundred. But, the sad state of your fridge leaves you little choice, and with one big steeling breath, you step out into the summer.

Your car is the only one in the drive - a cream 1950 Buick that your husband had gotten you a month into your relationship. For a long time, seeing it made you uncomfortable - the gift was too grand too soon, stoking a sense of debt that felt odd for a lover. But now, it is just another part of your lavish life with him; a part you appreciate as you think about the cooling unit waiting inside. Waving to your neighbors, you hop in in a hurry, purse finding a haphazard spot on the passenger seat. Eagerly, you brace for a rush of that cold air as you turn your key —- only for that hope to wither when you get a pathetic sputter from the engine instead. You try it once, twice, three more times before you let out a groan and slap your hand to the steering wheel.

Of course this would happen today.

Deflated, you sit back against your seat (ignoring all the places it sticks to you) to weigh your options. At this point, there’s no way to get anything started for dinner before your husband is home — you only have two cars and he’s taken one with him. He’ll need to grab you something on the way back. But the bigger issue is not having a car for the days to come. You don’t work anymore, but groceries are impossible to get without a vehicle, especially when it’s so hot.

You need repairs, and fast.

First, you consider your husband. He’s no genius when it comes to cars, but you wonder if the time he spends poring over catalogues and talking makes with the neighbors have taught him anything useful. Just as soon as the thought comes, though, you recall how stressed he’s been, how the pressure at his firm has had him wound up lately. The thought of his disdain at your request — or worse, rejection — is enough for you to resolve to plan b: brave the few blocks to a garage you’ve seen on the way home.

Altogether, you spend maybe ten minutes weaving between cars and open hydrants to make it to the shop. But the weather makes it feel like hours, sweat beading at your hairline from the first few steps. When you get there, you’re fully winded, fanning at your cheeks, and there’s nothing in sight but a few cars and scattered parts. You’re reassured, though, by the clang of metal tools that lets you know there’s someone that can help.

“Hello?” Your voice feels tiny between the sounds of work and radio. You’re not even sure that whoever’s around heard you until you catch movement behind a truck nearby. Slowly, a man rises into your eye line and your breath thins at the sight of him: six feet something of muscle and sinew, covered in oil from his work and sweat from the heat. Your mind wanders without your permission —- guesses at what he might feel like, taste like if you had the chance. But, as quickly as the thoughts arise, you’re turning your eyes away in shame.

What the hell are you doing, married and thinking like that?

“What can I do for you, miss?”

The question forces a glance at him and you feel energy run through you at the way he watches you back. A few strands of dark hair fall into his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from drinking you in. Slow, deliberate, his gaze picks you apart as if he can see right through the careful style in your hair; the stain on your lips; the light cotton of your dress. You feel laid bare just standing there, and somehow, it feels good. You shift nervously on your kitten heels.“My, uh, car – it… well, it doesn’t seem to be working. Won’t start, really, so I was hoping someone could take a look?"

He nods in quiet understanding, hands wiping grime on the top of his jeans. “You walked here?” He pauses long enough for you to answer. “Where’s your car? I can give you a tow.”

“Just a few blocks out, I live over on seventh.”

Another nod, this time pensive as his eyes search the shop until they land on a set of keys. He crosses the room for them, giving you a sinful view of his back along the way, before gesturing towards a red truck with the words Barnes and Son printed on either side. You gather he‘s likely the ‘son’ in this equation. “You can go on and wait by the truck then – I’ll just need to grab a few things from the back.“

When he returns, you’ve found a spot beside his truck that’s shielded from the sun and he’s changed into a shirt with a name stitched into the pocket. He gets close enough to help you in, one hand in yours and the other at your hip, which gets you close enough to read it. “Thank you, James.” His name leaves you with a careful lilt, like a delicate lace you’ve slipped on just for size, and he gulps at how good it sounds. Lips curl back in a grin, and he takes a moment to watch you settle before responding —

“Bucky.”

You blink. “Bucky?”

He hums in confirmation, moving to the back of the truck to ready a hook for your bumper. Even then, his voice is clear - steady as he calls back up to you. “Only my ma calls me James these days. Everyone else calls me Bucky.”

“Ah,” a knowing nod, “then, thank you Bucky.”

You catch his gaze in the side mirror and he watches you through his lashes, a look that makes your thighs press together. “You’re very welcome, miss.”

july twenty third, ninety four degrees.

Three days pass at a snail’s pace; seventy-two long hours of grueling heat, sputtering electricity, and rising restlessness. On the twenty-third, the weatherman on morning radio is the first to call it by its name and after that, it’s all you hear: heat wave, heat wave, heat wave.

In that time, you haven’t heard much from one Mr. Barnes. That doesn’t keep him from hijacking your thoughts, though —- edging into your head when you least expect it. The ride to your home had been short, the time to hook your car to his even shorter; but he’d snared you easy with that rumbling voice and careful, but natural humor. He’s unlike most men you’ve met during your time in Brooklyn; the trim, proper types at school and their older counterparts in the office. Pretty boy looks with an air of danger, he’s at the crossroads of rugged and polite. Man raised right with the eyes of a wolf. You want to know more about him, but don’t dare linger more than you need to. A man like him will only bring rumors, and it’s the last thing you need in your fledgling marriage. So, you do your best to forget about him — out of sight, out of mind.

Today, the house is too stuffy to be a haven from the sun and you’ve found yourself a spot on the porch, nursing the tallest glass of water you could find. In front of you, children play beneath their mothers’ watchful eye, as bare as they can be without being indecent. The sight makes you think about your future here — the newest, and youngest, couple on the block, you’re an outlier compared to the rest. Nothing to fill your days but a few chores and idle conversations. And though you’ve only been here a month, you imagine it won’t be many more before children are a consideration, and then, an expectation.

The thought guides hand to tummy and you imagine it all swelled up - full. You’ve always wanted that at some point, yes, but here? With him? You ask yourself the question often and always, the answer is unclear. Never no, but certainly not yes. And when you close your eyes to consider it further, the details are out of reach — more fuzzy than it should be when you’ve promised him forever.

That you hesitate makes you dizzy with guilt; bile in your throat whenever you just consider it. And this time, the heat compounds it, shame rolling off you like the beads of water dripping from your glass. You take a swig to wash it down, but the cool only brings clarity — sharpens your uncertainty into doubt. Suddenly, the trill of children’s laughter becomes more accusation than background noise, and you swear the other wives are watching across their lawns. Knowing, judging eyes that straighten your spine.

It makes the porch chair feel too hot to stay in -- its surface seeming to singe anywhere you aren’t covered -- and you bolt so fast your dress shifts around you. Fingers smooth out the wrinkles as steadily as they can before scooping up everything you’ve brought to carry back inside.

Perhaps a nap might be a better escape.

////

You wake up a few hours later to a setting sun and a much quieter street. A glance at the bedside clock lets you know it’s just past five and your mind turns instinctively to dinnertime. On most days, you’d balk at having only a couple hours to cook, tidy, and shower before your husband got home. But, with your car still in the shop and him back too late for grocery shopping, you know you’ll be working with leftovers. Two hours is all you need.

There’s still sleep in your eyes when you pad to the kitchen; but with time, the room starts to smell rich, the aroma of herbs rising steady, and your tired falters, then retreats altogether. It’s so good, you forget you’re working with an old meal and you almost don’t mind how hot you’re getting so close to the oven. As expected, the food — a simple casserole — doesn’t take long and by the time it’s left to warm, the dining table set, you have the perfect window for a cold rinse in the shower.

Your husband arrives as you step into a fresh house dress, and you know something’s wrong the moment he pulls in. Rubber squeals angrily against the pavement outside and the steps on the porch that follow are heavy, disgruntled. When he opens the front door, it’s with force that makes the frame groan and the sound rises a second time when he slams it closed. It’s been a pattern as of late, the way he moves through your home like a tempest; but you still aren’t quite used to it. How can you be, with your union so new as it is? But even as a different man stands before you, watching you emerge from your bedroom, than the man who’d courted you, you try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Work has been hard for him, and you know it. And it’s all to help you live the life you do — you know that too. So, that ever-present urge to please, to be the good wife stays steady. Even now, it compels you to help him out of his shoes as he tosses aside a blazer that ought to be illegal in this sort of weather. “Is dinner ready?” He grunts without any other greeting, and you nod, taking it in stride. He’s just stressed, you remind yourself, it’s not personal.

“Yes, dear, go and get settled — I’ll get you a beer, hm?” Your mouth meets his cheek in a chaste kiss before you lead him to the dining room by the hand. The table in it is set for two, unassuming but homey, and you maneuver around it with learned ease. Beer to the right of his plate, food dished out neatly, you hum to yourself as you go, hoping the domesticity will be a salve to his long day.

It turns out to be anything but. When you turn back to the table, you can see the displeasure radiating off him, his features turning into a sneer as his eyes assess the meal in front of him. “What is this,” he grunts. “Leftovers?"

You balk immediately, twisting hands in front of your apron until your knuckles feel like they’ll pop. “Well, it’s still all we have — as long as I don’t have the car, I won’t be able to make much...”

He concedes in a huff, the itch to start an row calmed by your sound, albeit nervous, logic. But it doesn’t make him any less prickly, any less distant. He eats dinner like he’s wounded by it, a grimace on every bite. Eventually, it’s unbearable to watch, and you sigh with a pensive glance at the fridge. You have no idea what else you can whip together at this point, but anything would be better than this. “if you want, I can try to make something else—”

“it’s fine,” he sneers, "don’t bother.”

The rest of dinner is choked and tense, the only sounds between you forks against your plates. He finishes first, lingering only long enough to drop his plate into the sink. Then he’s off; more weighted footsteps that you listen to until they disappear behind the door of his study. You are free to take your time then, savoring the rest of the meal as best you can. But, all his harsh judgment makes the casserole taste like mush and tears burn at the back of your eyes, so you give up not long after he’s gone.

You aren’t all that hungry anyway.

A new still settles over the room as you pack the rest of dinner away. You’d hoped this silence would be relief compared to the previous, but somehow it’s worse. Without someone else there to distract you, you spiral — hyperfixate. Before long, the walls seem to bow in, your home buckling with the weight of this disconnect. And soon, nothing can buoy you — your eyes swim, head pounds, and it takes only another minute of it to decide: you can’t stay in this house.

When the front door shuts behind you without a sound, you draw in a deep breath — the first in what feels like years. Out here, the air is syrupy, like you’re sucking it down through a straw; but it’s ten times better than the staleness you’re leaving. It makes your throat dry out just thinking about it, and you push off the porch with a click of your heels.

Head ducked and shoulders bowed, you walk with no real destination, mind wandering as much as you are. It isn’t until you hear the increasingly familiar sound of metal gears whirring that you realize you‘ve walked towards Bucky’s garage. Filmy light spills out of the cracked garage door, leaving shapes on the otherwise dark sidewalk. It beckons you, a different sort of warm, and you duck inside with arms around your middle.

“Excuse me? Bucky?"

The sound of company �� a tentative call of his name --- makes Bucky jolt, and he narrowly misses hitting his head as he straightens beneath the hood of a car. The garage isn’t well lit at this time of night, but it isn’t hard to work you out in the doorway: head tipped, arms pressed tight to you. To say he’s confused would be an understatement but, he certainly doesn’t plan to send you away. There’s something rolling off you that he can’t place — exhaustion, maybe? Perhaps even dejection. Whatever it is, it implores him to indulge you. Begs, even. “Miss? You here to check in on the car—“

“Why do you keep callin’ me that,” you spit, anger dissolving timidness into something rough and raw. Bucky quirks an eyebrow in question and you barrel forward to explain. “Miss — there’s no way you haven’t noticed my ring by now, you ought to be calling me Ma’am.” The outburst is misdirected and you know that — but this is a sore spot right now. Feeling so inadequate as a wife, unhappy in your marriage — this man you know you shouldn’t want and his refusal to acknowledge your status only makes it worse.

“I don’t mean any harm by it,” he shrugs, hands raising slightly in surrender, “‘s just odd calling you ma’am, young as you are. You don’t even have one wrinkle.” His tone turns playful there and you feel your whole body warm. There’s no way he can know what’s bothering you, or that’s something bothering you at all. But if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s trying to comfort you, even as your rage targets him. He drives it home with all his focus on you, a concern in those blue eyes that makes you want to weep.“You prefer I call you ma’am? I can, if you do.”

His earnest gives you pause; tempers your upset into a thrumming discomfort. Do you want him to call you ma’am? As visceral as your reaction had been, there’s a part of you that’s aware enough to know that you only care because you’re supposed to. It’s the right thing to call a married woman and you want to be like the best of them. At least, normally — right now, in front of Bucky and his lack of pretense, you find you care a lot less. His offer makes you realize how much of this is reflexive and you shake your head after another beat of silence. “No, I...suppose it’s fine if that’s why.” You still, feeling your face grow hot with shame. ”I’m sorry.”

His shoulders lift in a shrug and just like that, the moment’s forgotten, its tension gone. He turns the conversation elsewhere as graciously as he can. “So, what is it you’re doing here? I usually don’t do calls this late.”

“I just…wandered here to be honest. It’s awful in my house, heat and all. Needed air.”

He watches you the way he had that first day in the shop; unflinchingly. Fear curls up your spine at the thought that he might push you for more. Instead, Bucky nods, accepting the answer with a click of his tongue, and you press out a shaky breath. “Well, it won’t be much better here, but we got a fan you’re welcome to sit by ‘till you cool off.” He nudges a hand in the direction of the fan, but you hardly need it — you’ve eyed it now five times in as many minutes and could feel yourself swooning at the sight. It’s an industrial model, just shy of your height with blades twice as strong as your model at home. A stool sits next to it and you choose to settle there.

Bucky keeps watching until he knows you’re comfortable before returning to his work. On the radio, a singer you’ve never heard before croons about love, slow and sweet. It’s not what you’d expect for a mechanic's working music, but the way Bucky hums along makes it a perfect fit. He sways as he tends to the engine, as if the car dances with him, and you watch him with a smile — small enough that he misses it when he peeks up to check on you.

An hour passes just like that; a comfortable, easy quiet that’s only fractured when one of you hums louder than the fan next to you or laughs at something on the radio. Bucky works steadily, but makes a point of turning your way every so often to make sure you’re alright. Make sure you’re still there. You manage to catch his eye every time, which leads to a smile, a tip of the head, a sharp, careful breath.

You feel right in in that room of sparks and oil, and it overwhelms you.

“I think,” you start, standing to smooth your dress. The night deepens, and you imagine your husband’s noticed your absence by now. “I'll get going now, Bucky. Leave you to your work.” You offer him a smile that he returns easily, watching you as you take steps towards the door. “Have a good night, hm? Don’t work yourself too hard."

A chuckle rises from him in a rumble and you can feel your tummy turn. “Same to you. Sweet dreams, miss.”

The walk home is much lighter than the walk there had been. There’s contentment settling in, even through the heat, and it doesn’t break, not even when you get home to find your husband waiting for you. The door clicking shut behind you is the only greeting you get out before he’s standing, eyes narrowed. “Where did you go?”

You slip out of your heels carefully, as if sudden movement might shake hints of the garage out of your dress. “Just for a walk. I needed some air after I finished cleaning up, I wasn’t feeling very well.”

The answer seems to satisfy him; releases the tension in his back and shoulders until he's unwound enough to move. “Alright, well…are you any feeling better?” You give one quick nod in response, to which he hums, drinks you in for a moment, then offers a hand. You inch closer, each step more careful than the last, until he can press palms over your hips. Once he has you, your husband bares down to find your mouth; one soft kiss in apology. Eventually, though, those kisses deepen —- press you into bed with your clothing stripped in favor of sweat-streaked skin, and he murmurs more sorries into your throat, your thighs, and the sweet heat of your mound until you’re crying out forgiveness.

All the while, you see blue eyes in the ceiling; think of hands calloused from engines and gears; and swallow down guilt as you take your husband into your mouth.

There’s no room for Bucky Barnes when you do that.

july twenty fourth, ninety six degrees.

It’s half noon when the sound of heels echo in Bucky’s garage. They cut through his music well enough that he’s immediately searching out the sound from his spot beneath a cream 1950 Buick. A pair of baby doll pumps appear in his peripheral to answer his curiosity. “Just a minute,” he offers before his guest can speak, smiling so big already his jaw smarts. One last turn of his wrench brings him at a natural stopping point and then, he's rolling out to see you, as he suspected, beaming down at him.

There’s a tumbler of lemonade in your right hand — fresh, by the looks of it — and tupperware in your left. His heart stutters at the sight of it; you, all dolled up, bringing him lunch. He wonders if this is what your husband gets every day — a precursor to what he imagines are just as pretty nights — and can’t help but envy the fucking bastard.

What he’d give to see this every lunchtime till the end of his days.

“Ma’am,” he greets with a smirk, reaching for a rag to wipe his hands.

You huff loudly, lips turning sideways in a grin of your own. “You are never going to let me live that down, huh?”

Laughter shakes his shoulders. “Not any time soon, if you smile like that when I say it.” Your body heats immediately, eyes darting down in a show of shyness, and he almost coos at how easy it is to make you so bashful. “Brought that for me?”

You welcome the distraction, nodding as you hold out both offerings. “They said today’s the worst day yet for the heat and I know you’re here working in it, so…just wanted to make sure you had somethin’ to enjoy during your breaks.”

“Why, thank you,” Bucky pauses then, thoughtfully at first before his features go boyish, playful. “And you’re not just tryin’ to get out of paying me later, right?”

You laugh this time, a hearty sound he hadn’t heard before the previous night, but can’t seem to get enough of now. “Nope — scout’s honor. This is all on the house.”

You’re unlike any client he’s ever known; few wives make it as far as his door, their husbands preferring to come in for them, and the others that have certainly don’t make him feel like this. It would worry him if he dwelled on it, so he makes a point not to. Presses the oddness you cause in him to the back of his thoughts — out of sight, out of mind.

You set both the pitcher and plasticware down on the table closest to you, and quickly, Bucky is upon them. Scooping a clean cup from one of his nooks, he reaches for the lemonade and takes a hearty pour, humming at the sound of ice against glass. “This looks real good — you really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” you wave him off, “it’s the least I could do."

“Well — cheers.” With eyes trained on you, Bucky brings cup to mouth, drinks in long, tapered swallows that work his whole throat. It’s mundane enough in theory; but there’s something in the way he does it. Something that unravels you, keeps you from turning away though you know you should. When he’s done, his mouth is fuller than ever and wet, wet, wet with drops of lemonade at the corners. He reaches a thumb up to wipe them off and in one fluid motion, brings them to his tongue.

Your eyes are pinned to it, darting after the curl of his tongue; and, by the time he finishes, blown wide open. You’re lightheaded, desire and guilt sending your senses into a tailspin, and you have to clear your throat to get words out. “I, uh, — I should be heading home. Couple other errands to do before the day is out — enjoy those, Bucky!"

Before he can get respond, you rush through the garage door, jasmine perfume in your wake, and Bucky stays put until the smell of you wanes.

Maybe you’re not all that out of mind after all.

july twenty sixth.

“ —— the massive heat wave hitting New York City continues today as temperatures reach a record one hundred and five degrees.”

The first thing you feel when you wake up is wet. Seeping into your sheets, your pillow case, your chemise nightgown, it's an uncomfortable feeling, being so sweaty. Feels gummy and unnatural — you make a note to be in the shower as soon as you can manage.

The second is pain, palpable as the fight you’d had with your husband the night before returns to the forefront of your mind. The cause had been insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but heat has a way of undoing sensibilities. You’ve never seen yourself like that, so belligerent, so vicious, and wonder how much of this summer is changing you the way it’s changing him. It feels like coming out of a hangover, and you lift yourself from your bed with a ragged sigh. The house seems still, and after a moment’s listen, it’s clear your husband's already left for the day —— without breakfast and, notably, without goodbye.

As much as it stings, there’s relief knowing you won’t have to face him yet, nerves dulled now that you can move through your routine at your leisure. You’re fresh out the shower, drying with the softest towel you could find, when the shrill ring of the telephone cuts in. In no mood to be personable, you have half a mind to ignore it, but decide against it — you wouldn’t want to miss anything important.

“Hello?"

“Hello — I’m lookin’ to speak to Mrs. Miller?” The voice on the other end is like honey; sweet and sharp as he asks for you. You know it’s Bucky almost immediately and straighten up as though he can see you, a finger tracing over the lapel of your robe.

“This is she…”

“Mornin’, miss,” he offers, voice dropping an octave or two — it’s subtle enough to seem innocent, but suggestive enough, at least to you, to make you gulp. “I’m just phonin’ to let you know that your car is all ready.”

Your heart stutters at the promise of seeing him, your earlier grogginess all gone, and you find yourself biting back a smile as though he might catch it. “Thank you, Bucky — I can be right there.”

////

The walk to Barnes and Son is muggy, even worse than it’d been the day your car shut down. And when you arrive, there’s sweat lining your forehead and under your arms. You take a moment to dab at it before ducking inside, where Bucky is waiting by his work table. Today, there is no radio — the only sound between you is the traffic outside and a buzzing that you only notice when it’s too hot to think.

“Mornin’ again,” he offers as he stands straight, beckoning you to your car with a hand. When you’re close enough, he starts to walk you through his fixes, gesturing here and pointing there to guide your attention. But, despite his best intentions, your head stays fuzzy - you can’t tell how much of it is the heat and how much is the distracting cut of muscles in Bucky’s bare arms. He’s worn that white tank top a few times now, but it’s more soaked than it has been and the sight of it makes you feel rabid.

He notices when you go long without even a word. “You payin’ attention to me?”

Too much, you think to yourself, mustering a sheepish nod and a cough to clear your throat. “So, how much do I owe you?”

He rattles off the price and you try not to grimace — a habit from before you had the means -- as you rifle through your purse to count out the bills. When you hand them over, Bucky’s fingers brush your own in a touch too light to be intentional. But that doesn’t stop it from knocking the wind out of you. You must just be sensitive, you reason, after the fight and, now, this oppressive heat putting your body on edge. But, deep down, you know it’s more than that and Bucky seems to know it too — his fingers linger, keep yours there, before curling around them altogether.

“I ought to go.” The words hang between you, but you make no actual move to step away. Bucky’s touch, as mundane as it is, has you completely rooted.

“I could tell, you know,” he’s speaking soft, one hand scooping the money out of your hand while the other runs a pointer finger along the lines of your palm. He stirs sparks in every spot he touches, electricity that spreads and spreads and spreads until it’s all you can see. He’s all you can see. "— that night you came to the garage. It wasn’t the heat that ran you out, it was your man. It was that godforsaken house that looks like every other one on the street — you hate it there, don’t you?”

For the first time in days, you feel chill sweep over you; shock at being unmasked so bluntly. And it’s enough to wake you up to snatch your hand out of his grasp. “Stop,” you hiss, “you don’t know anything about this, about me.”

If he’s wounded by your retreat, it doesn’t show. All you read in Bucky’s expression is understanding, sympathy, concern. There’s tenderness on every inch of him and it makes your body shake to see it so plainly. “Nah, I don’t think that’s true. Think you know it too.” He steps closer, and closer still, until you can feel the grooves of his workstation against your spine. Large hands come down against the wood on either sides of your hips and you can smell him, musky and sweet, as he leans over you. “Think I know more about you from this week than any of ‘em have cared to learn in months. Even him. Am I wrong?"

“B-Bucky—“ you shake your head as if it’ll stop the inevitable; this breach of your defenses that’s laid your worst bare. Of course he isn’t wrong — your unhappiness swells faster than you can control it, and he’s been the first to notice. You imagine it won’t be long before your husband, your family, your friends are onto you too. Right now, though, your attention stays on the man before you; the way your hands have found his chest without you meaning them to, and the way the muscle flexes to the touch.

His mouth is close, trembling with anticipation. But, you can see where he’s holding back — the tension in his jaw, flexed fingers at your hip. No amount of desperation will make him move before you say. “Tell me if I’m wrong.” Hooded eyes bore down into yours as Bucky waits for an answer — you give it to him in a searing kiss, reservations undone in the face of pure need. He returns it just as desperately, slipping fingers over your throat and shoulders before resettling at your waist.

He uses the grip to hoist you up onto the table behind you, giving you the leverage to pull him in by the legs. He’s already half-hard, cock against your tummy, and the feel of him is enough to make you moan into his mouth. This is wrong — this is so goddamn wrong, but you’re dizzy with how badly you want him, this man who’s seen you, and you dismiss your guilt for a later time. “Off,” you pant, fingers already working at the buttons on your blouse.

To your surprise, Bucky’s hand cages wrists to keep you still. “Not here,” he grunts into the side of your mouth, pulling your arms to wrap around his shoulders instead. You’re about to question it when he lifts you once more, this time into him, and braces your weight with hands under your rear. The shift makes you squeak and his laugh as he carries you shakes your body. In a few short strides, he takes you through the door he’d come into on the day you came to him, and you realize quickly it’s an office - surprisingly tidy for a place so busy. On the far side of the room, a couch waits, a pillow and blanket folded on the arm rest. He must notice the way your eyes linger on them because he squeezes your hips as he purrs: “‘S cooler here now than my house — makes working easy too.” He slots you onto the cushions, and you note how easily they mold to you — how lived in they seem. From where you lay, you glean pictures on the walls and table, Bucky in some of them, smiling faces in most. It’s a window into his life you hadn’t expected at all, much less in the middle of something like this —and it terrifies you how much more you want to know.

How much more you want of him.

As if reading your mind, Bucky climbs in over you and reels your attention in with his mouth back over yours. He kisses you deep, slow, fingers replacing yours on your blouse as he picks the buttons open one by one until you’re left in a plain pointed bra. You shrink a bit, knowing how simple it must look — but the hunger in his eyes seems to ease that concern. He’s had dreams about this, about you, in the damp of this very room, and had just managed to convince himself that that was where you’d stay. At arm’s length, in his fantasies. But now, here you are, propriety set aside as you seek out your gain. Something he fully intends to give to you as he slips you out of your skirt as well.

Your legs slip shut instinctively when the material falls away but Bucky’s hands settle on either thigh to still you. “No, no — let me in, sweetheart." the plea carries like a song, melody and harmony that soaks into your panties as you part your legs at his behest. The sight of you, so open, so soft, makes him dizzy and he steadies himself with nose to your inner thigh, breathing you in slow and deep. “God, you smell good — bet you taste good too, huh?” His thumb comes down over you as if the touch might answer his question. You tremble at it, let out a sound into the room that’s choked and desperate. “Could eat you right up.”

And god, does he. Panties pressed unceremoniously to the side and his tongue to your wet, Bucky Barnes eats you alive in that New York City heat. Somewhere in the madness, his nose finds your clit, nudges it each time he laps, and you arch off the couch keening, hands framing his head. Tugging, pulling, you’re done apart by his touch, jerking hips up needily to find his mouth. “Fuck,” he grunts against you, “keep goin’—”

You don’t need him to spur you on, but it does wonders nonetheless. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so good. Even your husband the nights before, in all his earnest, hadn’t done you in like this. But, Bucky, with all that hunger and ache, has your body coiled up, eyes squeezed shut as you chase your pleasure. And as if he can sense the way you teeter on the edge, he presses a finger into you, the pad of it searching for the spot that’ll bowl you over.

“B-Bucky—“ you gasp, hips twisting because it’s so much, too much, and instinct makes you want to run. He shakes his head with a hand keeping you still, and a second finger joining the first inside you.

“Make a mess for me, sugar,” he commands in a purr, full lips brushing your clit, “don’t be shy now.” With that, his intent is crystal clear and he can focus on the task at hand; no more sweet nothings or encouragement — just his mouth back over your mound, flicking, sucking, in time with his fingers until you arch up off the couch with a cry of his name.

Your climax is hot-white; tears at the corners of your eyes as they dart, unseeing, to the ceiling. Bucky coos into your cunt in a tone akin to praise, and you shiver at how good it feels. He guides your hips for a moment or two more, just to help you ride it out, before rising from between your legs with a sheen of sweat, satisfaction, and you. His mouth curls up in a wolfish grin, canines sharp against his bottom lip, and you feel your tummy clench at the sight. This man will be the death of me.

The room is boiling, lust and tension at critical mass now that Bucky’s coaxed one mind-blowing orgasm out of you. And as uncomfortable as the sweat pooling in your corners is, you want more; need it, even. Your fingers find purchase at the base of his neck, forcing him up and over you until you can meet his mouth. Your body thrums at the taste of him — you, all over his tongue — and he kisses you deep when he realizes how much you like it too. In your earnest, you reach down to palm him through the jeans hanging low on his waist. You don’t know when his shirt had come off, but you’re appreciative of it. Eyes dancing over the expanse of bare skin, scarred in some places, but no less beautiful. You want to see the rest of him and you tug at his bottoms until he gets the message. While he works on that, you shed your underwear and bra and once you’re both naked, he settles back against you, sighing at the press of your skin. The contact is delicious, and it has you seeking out mouths for a kiss that’s as hungry as it is fond.

“Ready,” he murmurs against your lips, the head of his cock nudging at you as he draws closer. You nod, and he reaches down to guide himself, cock probing a bit until it slips past and slowly finds him settled. The way he sits inside you, stretching you to your limit, makes you gasp. Like you’re breaking water for the first time in a long time to the bite of fresh air. You crane up to kiss him with that newfound clarity, moaning when he twitches inside you.

“You alright?” The question comes out in a pant, Bucky’s mouth starting to trail over your jaw as he flexes to hover over you.

“Yes, Bucky, god yes, please move—“

Your plea’s barely out before he delivers, a slow drag of his hips that finds him out to the tip, then back to the hilt. The way he moves is like poison, like fire, and you wrap all your limbs around him to keep him close. The first thrusts keep you tangled like that, his head against your throat while he moves inside you. But, then you pull fingers through his hair, nail over scalp, and it’s like a switch flips inside him. In a flourish, Bucky sits up, shifting you until your knees nearly meet your chest and his hands hold you open by the underside of your thighs. The new angle guides him deep and makes you cry out, loud and with abandon.

The sound of it eggs him on; draws sharper, deeper thrusts from him as he watches you come apart from what he’s doing to you. “Doesn’t fuck you like this, does he? The way you deserve.” The accusation leaves him in a growl as his teeth close over your collarbone. Your throat is dry, and head too jumbled for you to do anything but shake your head — as if Bucky even needed an answer. “‘Course not — bastard.”

Thinking about your husband while you’re beneath another man shouldn’t feel good — but the possessiveness, the raw claim Bucky lays to you is addicting. It makes you want to be his beyond this, and you grip him close, nails leaving marks in his arms and shoulders, as if to keep him there. His thrusts quicken in response, hips finding yours in a delectably rapid rhythm, and you can feel your climax build for a second time already.

Bucky feels the way you pulse around him, grunting at the heat, and brings a finger down to your clit to keep you rising. The stimulation makes you arch, eyes squeezing shut as your legs tighten at his hip, and he uses his other hand to guide you down to meet him still. “Shit, look at you — gonna cum for me again, huh? Want it — god, I want it.” His body falls forward, keeping you chest to chest while he grinds down into you. “Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.”He reaches between you to bring his thumb down on your clit; flicks it once or twice before your peak barrels over you. It draws a cry that goes hoarse at the end and you fumble to pull him down and silence it in a kiss. He keeps his mouth on yours as his thrusts grow more erratic, his own climax not far off, and when he finally finishes it’s with a low groan of your name — eyes wrenched shut as he melts into you.

It takes a few moments for things to settle; Bucky stays over you, inside and pressed near as you both catch your breath. When he does slip out of you, it’s with a shudder and open-mouthed kisses to your wet skin. The loss of fullness makes you want to whine, but it isn’t until you start to feel his cum drip out of you that the sound actually makes it out. There’s something filthy about it — freeing too. And Bucky shares the sentiment as he presses your thighs up once more to look between your legs. “Push, pretty girl,” he murmurs, entranced by the sight of you. If it were anyone else you’d be embarrassed from the exposure; but his gaze just makes you preen. You do as he asks -- deep breath in, deeper one out — and you both moan at what follows.

Bucky’s eyes go darker somehow and you feel your body tighten as his fingers ghost between your folds. “Think I can get one more out of you?"

////

You end up spending hours lost in that room. Kissing, fucking, laughing — you’re only apart when Bucky rises to check in on the shop or answer the telephone. Then he fits right back between your thighs like it’s the only place he’s ever wanted to be. And sometimes, with the way he looks at you, you could believe it might be. You tell yourself you’re dreaming, though — finding emotion where it isn’t to make sense of this whirlwind of a week with him.

By the time four rolls around, there’s still no explanation for it, but there is an end— your car is working now, which means it’s back to routine. Groceries, cooking, bed with your husband. You dread it already, fingers trembling as you fix your mussed clothes; but seeing Bucky, and the recognition on his face when he comes back to see you dressing, only makes it worse. A silence settles between you while you dress and he watches from the doorway, arms over his chest. It’s not as bad as the silences have been with your husband, but it’s just as potent. Heavy and suffocating. He breaks it first, and you almost wish he hadn’t.

“I know it ain’t this simple,” he starts, quiet as though nervous about disrupting this still, "but I could be good to you.” Your shoulders stiffen with shock and when you look up at him, Bucky’s turned away, watching the cars he has left to fix. “Be better to you.”

You shake your head, swallowing the ache that rises with a sardonic smile. “How can you be,” you sigh, "you hardly know me from a hole in a wall, Bucky, this - this was just…” sex? You want to say so, but the sentence sounds all wrong, even to you.

Bucky, meanwhile, takes no offense to the rebuttal. If anything, it works him up more, a determination setting in that he hadn’t had just moments prior. “Maybe. But that don’t mean I’m wrong. Don’t mean I don’t know what I need to.”

The confession hangs between you for a moment, suspended by his conviction and your brain imagining life as his wife instead without your permission. It’s a split second of it, no more than a flash or two of imagination, but it’s enough to leave you queasy.

Because the fantasy is crystal clear, every scene in high definition. Bucky, his sky blue eyes creased at the corners by a smile; and a babbling baby with ones just like his, reaching for you from his arms. You see yourself in the photos in his office, beaming like the others. The thought is bad enough, but the need you feel just thinking about it makes you step back, hand to your chest as you suck in a breath. “If only it were so easy,” you breathe, dejected as you thumb the keys in your hand. You’re frozen there for another moment before you step forward, slowly, to move around him. When your shoulder touch as you pass, you can feel Bucky stiffen, shift as if he’s about to stop or hold you.

But the moment passes without him doing either, and you dip your head as you walk the rest of the way to your car. One last glance over your shoulder finds him watching you, longing coming off him in waves and you respond in turn, a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Goodbye, Bucky."

july twenty-seventh, eighty-five degrees.

Your drive to the grocery store won��t take long. But, you’ve opted to roll down your windows for it, basking in the breeze over your face. As suddenly as it began, the heat has finally broken, the city’s fever lifted, and for the first time in nearly a week, things feel normal.

On the radio, a woman sings a song about love lost, gained, and everything in between. You’ve only heard it a few times before, so you sing along in spurts. Lyrics here, hums there. It’s a welcome distraction from the emptiness that’s been sitting in your gut since the night before. You can almost ignore how sick you feel when you tap along to the music — almost.

When you turn down the next street, you recognize it quickly as the one of Bucky’s garage and that despair gets a new hold on you. There’s an immediate burn behind your eyes - reminiscent of what you felt, crying the night before — but this time there’s no tears. Just resolve as you force yourself to face front, attention steady, lest you get a glimpse of him.

Through your open windows, you catch the sound of tools from his shop. Just a few nights before, that had been solace; but now, it unsettles you. Sows discomfort so cleanly your entire body goes rigid. You fumble to get the windows back up, cutting off fresh air in favor of the ac you flick on with a finger. It takes a moment to kick in; but when it does, you breath a sigh of relief. Hold a hand over the grate to ground yourself with the cool.

It’s not as refreshing as that summer breeze, but you know it’ll have to do.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes

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madiletio · 4 years ago

Text

Snow Kissed

The 'chaos', otherwise known as their families meddling, had started in the late fall after Lance was given the all-clear from Samuel. It had seemed relatively easy initially- Go out, pick out a ring, light some candles and get on one knee to ask her the big question that would change their relationship- hopefully for the better.

Except there was one flaw in his plan and even now, ten miles away from his family home with Katie sitting right next to him, he wasn't sure how exactly he was going to ask. To make matters worse, he made the mistake of telling Veronica about the ring who then relayed that information back to his mother and before he even had a chance to speak, almost the entire Serrano clan was in on his secret.

Of course, he knew that they meant well and he was glad that they were excited, but it still didn't stop the weekly "Have you proposed yet?" question from being asked. And as much as he adored his family, part of him was worried about what they would do the moment they stepped foot out of the car.

"Ance-"

He snapped out of his thoughts once he heard Katie speak to him. "Hm?"

"You okay?" She asked softly, concern adamant in her tone."We missed the turnoff like five minutes ago?"

"Oh shit-" he muttered before doing a U-turn in the middle of a back road.

He felt his cheeks burn from the embarrassment and any mindless thoughts had long since been thrown out the window. Once they were back on track, Katie asked him again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah!” his voice gave a little crack and he quickly tried to cover it with a cough. “I was just thinking about how good it’ll be to see my mom again. I promise I’m alright.”

Katie raised a skeptical brow at that but thankfully to his relief, she didn't push the issue further. The rest of the car ride settled back into a comfortable silence and by the time they reached the turnoff for his road, his strangeness had seemed forgotten.

Rows of snow-covered rose bushes lined the driveway and he couldn't help but smile once the faint blue of his childhood home came into sight.

"I hope your family doesn't mind me intruding on your holiday.." Katie mumbled.

That took him by surprise, truth be told he didn't even think Katie would think that she was imposing.

"What?" he asked. "You aren't intruding. In fact, they're probably going to be buzzing around you."

Katie gave a slight hum but didn't say anything else. He knew that sometimes she'd get a bit anxious, especially when it involved socializing. So instead of trying to say anything, he reached over and took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles

"They love you. Trust me."

The moment they had parked the car, Sylvio and Nadia came barreling out of the house, closely followed by Veronica and his mother.

"Lance!" His mother exclaimed and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "It's so good to see you home."

"It's good to be back." he gave a contented sigh.

His mother took a step back, taking a moment to look at him before clapping her hands together and then turned her attention towards Katie.

"Katie! It's so good to see you again!" she exclaimed as she walked over to her, giving her a hug as she had just done to Lance.

Katie shifted awkwardly as his family started to jump from him to her. Sylvio and Nadia were tugging on her jacket, trying to drag her back to the house while his mother began talking her ear off. All he could do was mouth a quick "sorry." Before she was out of his sight.

"They haven't been able to shut up about you two all morning." Veronica chuckled and held out her hand, offering to help take some of their bags.

He grinned at that. "What can I say? We're just two phenomenal people." that earned him a jab in the rib.

"Mom had strict words with Abuela before you guys arrived." Veronica started "Hopefully she'll be able to hold her tongue long enough for you to propose first."

"I hope so." He chuckled and both of them made their way towards the house.

It had barely been ten minutes since they stepped foot into his parent's home and already the pair of them had been swept away in different directions. His mother insisted on showing Katie a full house tour (despite the fact she had already stayed at their home on more than one occasion.) All the while his Abuela cornered him in the living room, digging for answers.

"Lance!" she exclaimed and pulled him into a soul-crushing hug. "Look at you!"

All he could do was smile as she pinched his cheeks before stepping back to give him a once over. "You've matured so much."

Without giving him an opportunity to thank her, she had already grabbed his hand and was dragging him towards the dining area. He figured that she was either going to make him have a snack or she was going to really start her interrogation.

"Take a seat, take a seat." she fussed.

He was already screaming internally.

"Abuela, if you're going to ask if I've asked her, I haven't."

Disappointment was clear on her face but she was quick to shrug it off once she caught sight of Katie entering the room, with his mother following her from close behind.

"Well that concludes the house tour!" his mother exclaimed. "You two must be starving no?"

He nodded. "Very."

Abuela clapped her hands together and ushered him to stand. "That won't do in the slightest. Come with me!" she exclaimed.

Dinner, for the most part, went by uneventfully much to his relief. While he had been in the middle of eating some of his mother's garlic knots, Luis had mentioned going to the Christmas night market the following day.

Everyone seemed to beam at the idea and it was quickly decided that they would go.

Once dinner was taken care of and everyone was beginning to wind down, Lance managed to sneak out to the porch for a brief moment alone.

Veronica had managed to wrap him into helping her doing the dishes earlier and the conversation they had was still hanging over his head.

"It doesn't need to be perfect you know," she said, breaking the silence.

"What?" he asked

"Your proposal," she whispered, "We can all tell you're causing yourself unnecessary stress."

"But what if I say something wrong?" he sighed "Or what if she refuses to marry-"

Small footsteps caught him off guard and he turned around to find Nadia standing behind him with an empty glass. She tilted her head innocently at him "Who's refusing to marry who?"

Fuck.

Veronica quickly swooped in before he had a chance to say anything. "Oh we were just talking about a show we've been watching. Did you want some more water?"

The younger girl nodded, seeming to believe Veronica's excuse and got her drink without any further questions. Once she had left the room, the pair of them let out a breath they had been holding.

"Nice save." he chuckled.

"Thanks, you owe me one.”

The following day went by fairly quickly, much to Lance's surprise. Katie and him had woken up earlier than the rest of the Serrano clan and had spent the morning making pancakes for them, which was met with great delight, especially from Slyvio and Nadia.

Before they had a chance to clean up after breakfast, however, his mother was already shooing them out the door, claiming that Lance needed to show her the town. Of course, that confused Katie, considering she had been to his town on more than one occasion. But of course, he knew that this was his mother's way of getting him out the door in hopes of him proposing. She had never been the sutle even if she tried hard to be.

So they had spent the last two hours driving around town before finally stopping at a local bakery for lunch.

The warmth hit them immediately as they stepped foot into the building, and the aroma of freshly made bread made them more eager for their lunch.

Once their orders were placed they managed to find a small table that was tucked away behind a corner. It was a perfect spot for them.

"I'm glad it hasn't snowed today," Katie commented as she sat down.

He gave a hum of agreement. "It would have made driving a lot more difficult that's for sure."

It was cozy within the bakery, leaving the pair of them feeling very content.

"I hope my family hasn't been too much," Lance chuckled "I know that they can be a bit overbearing at times."

Surprise took Katie's face and she put her mug of hot chocolate down. "What? No! They have been nothing but sweet!"

Relief washed over him, as he got her reassurance. They hadn't made any attempts at trying to wingman his proposal, not yet at least.

"I'm glad." He reached over the table and took her hand in his.

Everything felt peaceful. They had some delicious food, warm drinks and it was relatively quiet inside. There wasn't an awkward silence but instead a comfortable one between them. It just felt right.

It felt like the right moment to do it.

"Katie," he breathed, trying his best to hide his sudden nerves.

She nodded, patiently waiting for him to continue.

The back of his neck felt warm, and he could only imagine what his cheeks looked like. He hadn't even started his speech yet and he was already getting flustered.

"I just wanted to say that you-"

His phone began to vibrate on the table, distracting them both. And if it weren't for the fact they were in a public environment, chances are he would have thrown the phone out the window.

"Ah shit," he mumbled. "It's my dad."

Katie smiled at him and nodded for him to answer it, which he hesitantly did.

"Hello?" he asked.

Expecting to hear his father's voice, he was taken aback when it was Veronica who replied back. "Sup?"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. "What do you want V? I was kinda in the middle of something."

"Oh sorry about that," she said dismissively "I'm at the grocery store with dad right now and he wants to know if there's any food Katie would like."

"Peanut butter cookies. Bye." He shot back and hung up on her before she had a chance to draw their conversation out even longer than necessary.

He ran his hands through his hair, annoyed that their moment was now well and truly ruined. Katie on the other hand still looked content as anything as she sipped away on her hot chocolate.

There would be another opportunity to ask her. He just had to be the patient one.

They had spent the rest of their afternoon back at his parent's house and decided to lounge around until it was dark enough to leave for the market. Somehow Nadia and Slyvio managed to wrap Katie into a serious game of monopoly and near the end of it Luis and Marco had joined in too.

Meanwhile, Lance was lying on the couch, beginning to feel conflicted as he tried to think of a way to propose to Katie without making it cringe-worthy. He had thought about doing it on the ice, but the chances of him losing his balance while getting down on one knee was enough to make him stray from the idea.

Before he had a chance to further his existential crisis, his mother walked in, already tying up her coat and calling for them to get ready to leave. In an instant, everyone shot up from their game and the kids went running to find their coats.

It took his family almost half an hour just to leave the house but once they were all out, Lance realized he had forgotten the ring and quickly turned on his heel and headed straight back towards the house, claiming that he forgot his keys.

Much to his relief, the ring was still in the last place he put it and he shoved the box in this jacket pocket and hurried back out.

"Did you find your keys?" Katie asked once he reached her.

"Yup!" He said and held up his keys as proof. "Are you ready to go?"

Katie gave him a nod and off they headed for the night market.

Twinkle lights lined stalls and hung lowly on the bare branches of the trees, making the atmosphere feel all the more magical. People could be heard shrieking with laughter as they tried to skate and the warm scent of cinnamon doughnuts was very much welcomed.

Since his family wanted to do multiple different things, they had decided to split up for an hour and meet back up in the town center. Truth be told, he was a bit relieved to be walking the market alone with Katie and he could tell that she felt a little bit more relaxed once it was just the two of them.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they walked, occasionally making sure that she wasn't cold.

"Everyone is so talented," Katie mumbled in awe, as she looked over the market stalls, taking everything in.

He gave a hum of agreement but truth be told he was paying more attention to her than he was the vendors.

"Do I have something on my face?" She asked, catching his attention.

Quickly, Lance gave a cough and shook his head. "No! Not at all. Your nose is getting a little red though."

Katie scrunched her nose up at the comment. "It's not my fault it's so cold out."

He gave a small hum of agreement "That's what happens when it snows."

They continued to browse in silence, looking at the various handmade items the locals had made. They would occasionally chat, pointing out things they liked to look of or showing them something the other missed.

The longer they were out, the colder they started to feel. They were huddling close together trying to get warm from their combined body heat and just when they were about to turn back and head for someplace warm, Lance spotted their saving grace.

A coffee truck.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" He asked. looking at her.

At the mention of hot chocolate, she seemed to perk up. "Oh my gosh yes!"

Thankfully, much to their luck, the queue wasn't long and they had their hot drinks relatively quickly. The warmth of the cups made them both sigh out in content as they started to warm back up.

As they made their way through the streets, Lance caught sight of the lit-up gazebo in the town's community garden and was instantly drawn to it. It was like he got hit with a familiar feeling as he pointed it out to Katie, asking her to walk with it.

He felt certainty with every step he took towards the gazebo. This was the place he was going to ask. It was perfect.

Katie was in awe at the sight of the lit-up trees and the way the garden looked, it looked like something out of a fairytale. Eventually, they climbed up the stairs and Katie immediately went to the other side to continue looking at the snow-covered garden.

This was his chance, and he knew it. Quietly he pulled the small velvet box out of his jean pocket and got down on his knee behind her. It was at that moment he realized he didn't need to read out a long speech that he had been agonizing over.

Slowly he got down on one knee and held the box out and held his breath until Katie turned around. Her eyes widened the minute she caught sight of him.

Tears started to fill both of their eyes but he tried hard not to let them fall before he spoke.

"Katrina Holt." he breathed in a shaky breath. "You are the light of my life. I know I'm not perfect and I don't have much to offer you now but what I can promise you with absolute certainty is my love you and you alone."

Katie didn't say anything as she started to approach him, her own tears streaming down her face. He took a moment to hold back his own before continuing his speech.

"So Katrina Holt, my Katie, will you do me the utmost honor and marry me?"

She only managed to give a small nod before lunging herself at him, hooking her arms around his neck and kissed him- barely giving him a second to hold onto her. Because of this, they ended up fumbling to the ground.

There was a brief moment of silence as they stared at each other in surprise before he broke the silence.

"It looks like I've fallen for you again."

Katie couldn't contain her smile as he cupped her cheek and brought her in for a kiss.

The amount of relief he felt now that the main part of the proposal was over and done with was quite rejuvenating. Also, Katie saying yes was a bonus.

Once they broke the kiss they both sat up and he grabbed the box to put the ring on her finger. It was a thin band with three small pieces of emerald in the center. It was dainty but practical- just like her. It slid on like a glove and once it was on he brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles.

"I love you" He whispered.

"I love you too" She replied and wiped the remains of her tears from her face.

They stayed seated in the gazebo for a little while longer, before getting up to regroup with his family.

When they approached his family in the town's center, he could tell right away that both his mother and Abuela were holding their breath. Katie and he shared a look, barely able to keep their own excitement under wraps before telling them.

"So we have something to tell you.." he started, unable to hide his grin.

Katie held up her hand, showing the ring to his family, all the while trying to hide the blush on her face.

Immediately his mother let out an excited squeal and pulled the pair of them into a tight and warm embrace. After that, all of his family took turns to hug and congratulate them.

"So!" his Abuela said with a clap of her hands once everyone had settled down a bit. "We'll need to start the wedding planning."

Both of their faces paled at that and his mother jabbed his Abuela in the side.

"She's teasing." his mother reassured.

Katie seemed to visibly relax at that but Lance still had a tiny bit of dread. They still had a week of staying with his family left. And if his Abuela had any say in the matter, they'd be walking out of his house carrying wedding planners.

"Anyway!" Veronica interjected. "Let's go ice skating and then go home."

Everyone agreed in unison, and they all followed one another to the outdoor rink. And despite his families meddling ways, his heart felt so incredibly full and from the way Katie squeezed his hand from time to time, he could tell she felt the same.

It was a perfect night and they couldn't have been happier.

#plance #pidgance #pidge x lance #voltron #mads writes

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the-peachpit · 4 years ago

Text

Sons Of A Crow

DSMP AU: Wilbur, Tommyinnit, Technoblade are siblings with an absent Father

Warning: Major Character Death

Summary: Philza left to defend L'manburg, Technoblade left to bring him home, Wilbur stayed and watched Tommy grow on his own. Too young to watch over himself and suddenly watching the struggles of others something broke inside Wilbur. his family reunion wasn't what he wanted, but maybe- what they all needed.

In this story L'manburg was a city that always existed and was ready to erupt without the help of Wilbur or Tommy.

Also consider following me on Twitter for more insights on stories! @Thepeachpit_

Orange leaves danced through the sky when Wilbur said goodbye to his father watching his back become a silhouette against the sun. It was fall, a crisp chill in the air when Tommy ran from the top of the stairs his little yellow wings puffed behind him as he missed a step tumbling down. Wilbur turned his face fell watching Tommy scramble to stand ignoring the blood on his knee and hands. Wilbur wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck as he screamed for his dad to come back in shorts and a t-shirt. Wilbur could see his own breath as he held Tommy down from trying to fly telling him it was alright.

“Why is he leaving!” Tommy sobbed, “I told him I’d learn how to fly! I’d learn to fly to keep him here! I can do it!”

Wilbur hugged his brother closer whispering into his wheat-colored hair, “Please, Tommy it’s not your fault.”

“It’s everyone else’s,” A voice growled.

Sun beamed through the high windows of the wooden home, but Techno stood in the shadow that day. Sulking, tricking himself into thinking Wilbur couldn’t see his tears. Wilbur would never say a word about the way Techno’s mouth twitched and his shoulders shook. Being the oldest Wilbur knew Techno would carry too much on his shoulders, but he was no father figure. He was no unfeeling weapon, as much as he pretended. Their father had rescued Techno from an auction, and Techno repaid that kindness by being his shadow. Learning everything their father had to offer. A piglin with the dream to be equal to men. Wilbur couldn’t imagine what Techno thought watching their father spread his wings without him.

The day dragged on as Wilbur sat with Tommy on the couch drilling it into the young boy’s skull it wasn’t his fault their father left- he had to. Their father’s situation was delicate. He wasn’t just a crow hybrid but a godly being of sorts, though he never advertised it. Their father had taken Wilbur and Techno to his shrine when they were a little older than Tommy. People worshiped him when they were in need. He looked after those who needed protecting. He wasn’t born an immortal god but was given the right after giving so much of himself to the world that the universe had to reward him. An immortal life with the curse of mortal children with the universe herself. Now people expected him to fight in the war of L’manburg a nation that had been teetering on the edge of revolution for years. Philza would be the hammer ending it all. Wilbur shifted his white wings when Techno came in the whites of his eyes red, his cheeks puffy. Wilbur wouldn’t utter a word.

Taking on the role of a caretaker wasn’t unusual to Wilbur having done it before even when their father was home. Before Tommy was born. Growing up with a piglin brother who still had basic lessons to learn in over world customs was fun but came with challenges. Especially when Techno started learning the art of the blade. Wilbur was tasked with keeping his brother from scrapping with every kid who laid eyes on him with a sneer.

Tommy had finally fallen asleep to something on TV and Wilbur had noticed Techno slip out hours ago. Walking out onto the back porch Wilbur watched his half piglin brother whack at dummies with an axe. His blows were messy- unusual for the calm and collected fighting state his brother usually took on. With tight moves and precision.

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur sat himself on the stairs.

“Not really,” Techno huffed.

Wilbur leaned back on his palms, “You can’t keep it in forever, better to get it out now right?” he looked up at the sky, it had gotten cloudy.

“Bet I can,” Techno landed another blow.

Wilbur sighed, “Come on.”

Techno spun around his long pink ponytail lifting from his shoulders, “What the fuck do you want me to say Wil? Philza just left us here with no warning, who knows how god damn long he’ll be gone. L’manburg’s been fighting itself for years now. Suddenly he has to do crowd control.”

“If you keep swearing like that Tommy is going to get a sailors mouth,” Wilbur smirked.

Techno rolled his eyes, “You remember what he was like after the last war he was called to don’t you? Swearing is the least of Tommy’s worries.”

How could Wilbur forget, the man who came back was not their father. He was cold, distant, quick with a fist. Techno scrapped with their father a lot after he came home, sometimes protecting Wilbur, sometimes Tommy who was too young to remember the in-house violence. Too young to know to keep away from his own dad. Wilbur never blamed Philza he had seen a travesty; he’d taken lives and there’s no coming back from that casually. To return to a family after finding blood on your hands couldn’t be easy. The thought of that happening to Technoblade haunted Wilbur, to see his brother’s eyes look empty and dazed. He hopped Philza would never let Techno join him, as much as Wilbur knew that would tear Technoblade apart.

“Maybe this time will be different,” Wilbur sighed watching the clouds roll in.

Within the first week Tommy’s golden feathers were scattered around the house. Wilbur found a few in the bathroom at first thinking nothing of it. Then more popped up in the kitchen, living room, and a whole pile on the front porch. Wilbur had always respected his brother’s privacy, but out of pure panic he burst into Tommy’s room without knocking watching as Tommy pulled a handful of feathers from his wings. Wide blue eyes filled to the brim with tears starred at Wil-pleading. Scooping Tommy into his arms Wilbur tore down the stairs yelling for Techno.

It was noon on a chilly fall day a storm was rolling in the thunder rumbling deeply as it shook the old house. Wilbur was clutching Tommy’s hands as the boy sniffled at each tug of the bandage Techno wrapped around the bald spots. Pouring oil to heal and hopefully deter Tommy from plucking anymore.

“He’s stressed out,” Wilbur sighed finally feeling like he could breathe.

“Really,” Techno said sarcastically.

Wilbur ran his hand through his brown wavy hair-it was getting long- “I’m serious what are we going to do?”

Techno shrugged, “Our best I guess?”

Wilbur was already doing his best.

After plucking his feathers and being banned from flying on Dr, Techno’s orders Wilbur made sure to never let Tommy leave his sight in fear of his depression getting worse. If the wings were the worst of it Wilbur was sure he could deal, but things could always get worse. The curse of the Crow god hung heavy on the odd family. Weeks passed with the weather oddly warmer for the middle of fall. The trio was outside regularly soaking up the sun or hiking into town casually speaking with others. Techno hated the small talk, but Wilbur insisted it was for Tommy’s sake, keep him socialized. He reminded Techno how important it was to socialize him and was met with a swift whack to the back of the head. Ignoring every bit of war talk they could. It finally felt like it was all stabilizing- like they could hold out until Philza came back.

“You know we just got some new candy in I thought you’d like to try,” A girl smiled coming out from the back of the grocery store.

“Hell yea!” Tommy pumped his fist in the air.

“You’re spoiling him Niki,” Wilbur shook his head putting his groceries on the counter.

“I got some new books too,” Niki put three books on the counter, “Free of charge of course, “She winked.”

A month ago, Wilbur had resented Niki’s kindness as if they couldn’t care if themselves without their father. He hated thinking she was right. With time he realized that wasn’t it at all. Niki was genuinely kind, enjoying the company of the brothers. She wasn’t full of sympathy, but compassion. Giving where she could, but never overly so.

“What, nothing for me?” Technoblade put on a show of pouting.

“Sorry,” Niki shrugged, “My boss still thinks weapons in a general store is a bad idea.”

Techno shook his head, “He’s missing a whole customer base.”

“Maybe I can-“ Niki was cut off as a crowd gathered around the TV in the corner of the store.

Coming from the back the store’s owner turned up the volume on the news broadcast. It was a warm fall when the footage of fires ablaze in homes that viewers were assured had been abandoned was shown to the public. People whispered and gasped, but no one saw him-except Wilbur. A shadow in the corner of the screen wings close to his body, his stance tight, sword sheathed at his side-the Crow in all of his glory. Was that his handy work? He wouldn’t. L’manburg was in flames. Something silently snapped in Wilbur that day, watching his father do nothing as a city burned to the ground. Seeing that scene alone may have started the spiral but knowing Philza watched over the pyres of family’s- Wilbur grabbed the groceries rushing out of the store.

He didn’t speak to his brothers the whole walk home. It had gotten chillier.

Winter dropped two snowstorms back-to-back, during the second Wilbur picked up smoking to keep himself warm. The clouds that escaped from his lips as he sat under a hazy sky while Tommy played in the snow were thick. He watched the smoke curl and join the sky. It started with a smoke outside int eh morning and night. His hands with nothing more to do just kept lighting until he found himself at a pack a day. There was a numb comfort as he lit a second cigarette while Tommy rolled snow into a ball. His mind felt distracted, distant floating away with the smoke. His chest felt lighter, like the weight he’d been carrying found its peace-it never lasted long enough.

“Come on Tommy,” Wilbur put out his cigarette butt in the snow, “It’s cold out here,” He stretched out his wings, “Techno has a nice fire going inside.”

Rolling his eyes Tommy groaned, “Fiiiine,” he pouted his golden wings puffed behind him.

He’d healed perfectly and Wilbur had taken Tommy out for flying lessons a few times over the fall, but winter was hard for flying. The weather changed fast and the cold hurt inexperienced wings. Wilbur had been so happy there was no permanent damage he cried to himself in his room, not unusual, but this was different. He was so happy.

“Wilbur,” Tommy rolled on the floor by the fire, “Can you make hot chocolate?”

“Sure thing,” Wilbur smiled heading into the kitchen.

Techno stomped in trying to get the snow off his boots. Wood stacked under his arm.

“Well, we won’t freeze to death.” Wilbur joked pulling out a small pot.

“You’re welcome,” Technoblade stuck his tongue out.

A knock on the door stopped Wilbur’s quip dead in his throat. A knock at the door. Their door in the middle of nowhere. They weren’t expecting anyone. Would he have knocked after all this time? Wilbur shared a glance with Technoblade who was holding his breath.

The sound of the door creaking open sent Wilbur to the front entrance.

“Tommy, dude you can’t just open the door for anyone,” Wilbur scolded him.

“Oh, come on Wilbur,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a familiar face in a light blue hoodie. The man would have almost disappeared amongst the snowy landscape if not for his tan complexation.

“Hey Skeppy, what brings you out here?” Wilbur asked the ice mage.

“Mail believe it or not,” Skeppy held out a disheveled letter, “Niki said you guys don’t go to the store during bad weather and asked me to deliver it.”

“Thanks,” Wilbur nodded, “Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Skeppy shook his head, “This weather is my natural element I am as comfortable as can be,” He assured him, “Plus Bad is expecting me back.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Have fun in the nether, don’t melt.”

“Ha-ha,” Skeppy rolled his eyes waving goodbye.

Closing the door Wilbur looked at the letter in his shaking hands. It was tattered and must have had a long journey to his cold fingers. Walking back into the kitchen where Tommy and techno stood Wil looked between his brothers unsure what to say. Opening his mouth, he wished he had a cigarette to give him an excuse to stay silent. There was no other choice as he slowly slipped a finger unto the fold of the yellowed envelope ripping it open. Pulling out the letter Wilbur gasped.

“Who is it from,” An urgency in techno’s voice.

“Dad,” Wilbur whispered his dark eyes scanned the letter again, “He says he’s coming home soon.”

“Let me see,” Techno ripped the letter from Wilbur’s grasp, “Holy fuck,” he breathed out.

“Dads coming home!’ Tommy threw his hands up in the air running around the house.

Spirits were high as the sun shone over glittering snow.']

The letter hadn’t stated when their father would be back, just soon. The days rolled like molasse with everyone especially Tommy, checking the windows to catch a glimpse of their father landing. The days and nights were all becoming bitterly cold, and the thought of delayed travel started to creep into Wilbur’s mind. To clear it when cigarettes weren’t enough, he snuck out at the dead of night through his window. The air was brisk, it shook him to his bones. Extending his wings with a powerful downward thrust Wilbur took to the starry skies. The wind hurt his wings-burned them with frost, but Wilbur had never felt so alive as his lungs froze inside. He was reminded of living as he soared against the inky night. He remembered his first winter flight with Philza. He fell towards the ground unable to deal with the brutal temperatures. His father had been there to catch him- support him- swearing to Wil he’d only have to fly in the winter if he were every in trouble. He wondered if he was in trouble now.

Technoblade was off, it had snowed again in the middle of the winter season. Wilbur would catch Techno staring out the window at nothing for far too long. Putting his hand on Techno’s shoulder would jolt him back to reality. His brother’s long pink hair that was usually tied so neatly in buns, or ponytails was in a knotted braid that hadn’t been maintained in days. He looked pale. Wilbur was worried about illness.

“Hey Techno,” Wilbur stood form the floor, “You mind playing this round with Tommy? My knees are kind of sore.”

Techno shrugged sitting across from Tommy who shuffled a deck of cards.

Wilbur at on the sofa behind Techno taking in the site of his older brother. Techno had purple marks under his eyes, they looked slightly puffy as well. He missed his turn and Tommy had to keep pulling techno from his fog. Slowly Wilbur reached out picking up the long braid and pulled the hair tie free. He brushed through his brothers matted hair surprised Techno was being a willing participant.

“I’ve always been jealous you had the patience for all of this hair,” Wilbur started braiding noting it was messier than anything techno had done.

“I’m going to grow my hair as long as techno,” Tommy proudly declared, “My braid will be ten times better.”

“You know I bet Techno could braid your hair now,” Wilbur suggested getting no response from his distant brother, “Techno,” Wilbur prompted.

“Oh-yea,” Techno shook his head, “Tommy come here.”

With quick fingers Techno braided Tommy’s short blonde hair before moving to Wilbur’s brown wavy mess. They were bonded the brothers of misfortune. Techno was getting worse, forgetting things, spacing out for hours, losing blocks of time. Wilbur kept asking him if he was okay but, Techno kept deflecting. Wilbur knew it was better not to push when it came to his brother. Techno would sort it out on his own, maybe it was a weird Piglin thing. Tommy stated asking again when their father was returning home as the snow melted and spring was on the way. Wilbur had no answer and it added onto the pile of anger he had been harboring. Seeing news cast after news cast about the war. How L’manburg was falling, how they didn’t just end it. He kept catching glimpses of their father at horrible sights, but nobody else seemed to catch him. Wilbur had given up months ago on the man he knew.

Cutting vegetables for dinner Techno put his knife on the counter leaning forward heavily panting.

“Hey you,” Wilbur started before Techno slumped to the ground.

“Techno!” Wilbur fell to his knees to comfort his brother only to be slapped away.

“Don’t touch me,” Techno growled.

“You need to rest something’s not-“

Slapping Wilbur’s hovering hand away Techno’s piercing green eyes shot through Wilbur, “I said fuck off, don’t touch me,” he growled. Standing on shaky legs Techno stumbled away and up the stairs leaving Wilbur to worry about his piglin brother. Techno locked himself away for three days, Wilbur left meals outside his door.

“Tommy!” A voice roared from down the hall, “I told you a hundred times to stay out!”

A scream sent Wilbur charging up the stairs, “What happened,” his voice died in his throat.

Cowering in the corner was Tommy his arms in front of his face to protect himself while Techno brandished a blade in front of him. Charging into the room Wilbur pushed Techno and his brother swung the weapon at him instead. His eyes red and angry his features more piglin than man.

“He’s just a kid what the hell is your problem?” Wilbur yelled.

“I’ve told him a hundred times to not touch my weapons and he was in here playing with my crossbow,” Techno growled.

“Is it broken? What is your deal, you don’t threaten him!”

“He doesn’t even deserve to be our brother, Philza raised us to be strong, and Tommy’s always been pathetic,” Techno spat.

“You’re a monster!” Tommy stood stomping his foot before taking off.

Slowly Techno lowered his weapon blinking frantically as his red eyes faded to the familiar green.

“Wil,” Techno swayed before collapsing to the floor.

Wilbur wasn’t sure which mess to pick up first. Deciding his brother on the floor would be priority. Getting leverage under his arms Wilbur hoisted Techno onto his bed glad the man passed out in his own room. Putting his hand on Techno’s forehead he felt the sheen of sweat on his hot skin. Biting his lip Wilbur took off to tend to Tommy. As he ran down the stairs, he pictured a flurry of gold feathers littering the halls. Of irreversible damage. Wilbur felt like his lungs were collapsing in on him as he checked every room to no avail. There was a chill in the air from an open window in the kitchen, Tommy had left. Wilbur felt himself gag when he realized. Tommy had taken off into the winter sky on the verge of darkness alone. Fuck and Wil knew he hadn’t taken time to put on any warmer clothes besides his thin long sleeve shirt. He had to go out and find him quickly throwing on his brown trench coat, scarf, and knit hat before running out and taking off to the sky.

“Tommy!’ Wilbur screamed until his voice was hoarse scanning the sky and land.

It had been two hours since he started his search, and his heart was pounding in his ears from a mixture of cold and panic. The sun had set behind the mountains leaving only a faint blue glow to the sky Wilbur knew would fade in time. Then Tommy would be out there alone overnight with no way for Wilbur to spot him. Tommy wouldn’t make it.

“Tommy!” Wilbur screamed.

“Wil,” A small broken voice made its way over the rushing wind.

Through tear frozen eyes Wilbur spotted him a small dark red speck in the white winter night. Immediately landing hard enough to stumble like he did when he was a child Wilbur scrambled to the lump on the ground. He couldn’t tell who was shaking more, himself or Tommy. In the darkness it was impossible to get a read on what was wrong, but the young boys breathing was shallow, and Wil begged for him to tell him what was wrong as he wrapped Tommy in his coat. A feeble effort to warm him. Holding his brother tight Wilbur prayed something he’d never been a fan of even being the child of a man akin to a deity. He prayed to his father to guide them safely through the night.

“Wilbur,” Tommy croaked, “I miss dad.”

“Me too,” Wilbur whispered holding his brother closer.

Miracles could bless those in dire need as the wind died down and the sounds of horse hooves crunching on the snow echoed through the trees. Wilbur’s ears perked at the sound of his name.

“We’re here!” Wilbur shouted with every breath he had left in his shivering body.

A horse sent by a prayer appeared before them with a familiar pink haired figure riding on top. He pulled off his red cape as he dismounted wrapping it around the shaking shoulders of the man who was trying so hard to have all the answers and hold it together.

“Let me see him,” Techno’s voice a faraway whisper with hands outstretched.

Wilbur hesitated knowing those hands caused destruction and started the argument that lead down this path. However, he was weak using all of his stamina while flying and holding Tommy tightly to his chest trying desperately to protect him from the elements. Slowly Wilbur handed over the shivering boy. Techno looked over Tommy nodding to himself Wilbur knew he was using his superior night vision to check Tommy over.

Standing on unstable legs Wilbur hoisted himself on the horse holding the red cloak around himself tightly apologizing in his own mind to his brother quietly endured the bite of the frost. Letting his dark eyes slowly close Wilbur continued his prayers to his father-pleads to come home.

Waking slowly with a pounding headache Wilbur propped himself on his elbows. He was in his bed int eh same clothes he’d worn last night. Looking down he saw red splotches on his shirt feeling his skin crawl. He wished it was his. Rolling out of bed he hissed at the pain in his knees, that landing had done more damage than he thought. Leaning against the wall for support he limped his way out into the hallway where a savory aroma hit his nose. Soup- a familiar soup- a dish his father had made a hundred times when one of them had been injured or sick. The stairs creaked causing Wilbur to hold his breath.

“Oh, good you’re up.”

Wilbur’s face fell, “Your hair.”

Techno stood in the hallway with a tray carrying two bowls of soup. His long hair had been hacked away into a short messy style. His long braid discarded.

“I’m leaving Wil,” Tehcno’s voice was cold, “I need to find Philza.”

Wilbur shook his head feel his braid, “We don’t need him we’re doing fine without-“

“I need him!” Techno shouted, “You don’t get it! I’m a danger to you two without Philza here! He keeps the voices away; they demand blood, and it doesn’t matter whose. Wilbur if I did anything permeant to you or god- fucking Tommy almost died last night!”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t try to spare me, you sugar coat everything thinking it’ll all work out, but it’s not working Wil! So, I’m going to drag dad back here by the scruff of his wings.”

A creak of the floorboards.

“A branch went through Tommy’s leg, its broken. I set it the best I could.”

“Techno please, we can beat this without him.” Wilbur felt his throat tighten.

“I’ll be back before summer.” Techno set the tray on a small table in the hall.

Without another word Techno walked down the stairs with Wilbur at his heels begging the man not to leave. Not for him but for Tommy, he would beat himself up, he wouldn’t survive if Techno just up and left. He’s a child who doesn’t deserve anymore disappointment. Nothing could deter the determined look of the piglin as he secured a travel bag to his horse and double checked the saddle. With a stern glance Techno left his axe shinning in the sun on his back.

Wilbur went inside a numbness overcame him as he pulled his heavy legs up the stairs grabbed a bowl of soup went into Tommy’s room. The boy laid eyes closed leg elevated the wrapped. Bloody scraps of cloth laid all around the room. Setting the bowl on the nightstand Wilbur felt his world crush him falling to his knees and sobbing his chest heaving. He apologized over and over to no one who could hear him. He apologized for being weak, unable to protect anyone, for letting things slip through his fingers. When Wilbur felt his heart snap months ago watching the fires he ignored it, took up smoking, and retreating into himself hiding what he thought he knew of his father from his brothers. If L’manburg was supposed to fall Wilbur wanted to push-someone had to push. It was the only way to bring everything back.

It was the first day of spring when Tommy finally awoke disoriented and Wilbur cried again holding his brother close to his chest. A warm wind rustled the grass that was returning when Wilbur had to come clean about Technoblades absence. He watched Tommy’s curious blue eyes become cold and steely. He wasn’t inconsolable, but as the earth thawed Tommy became icy. Going into town wasn’t as fun without Tommy chatting to everyone instead, he stood by Wilbur avoiding eye contact. Wilbur made a point to take Tommy out more hoping he would just spring back even on his crutches. After a while Tommy started saying he was too tired to hobble to town on his busted leg.

“That leg will heal in time Tommy, before you know it, you’ll be bouncing around again,” Wilbur encouraged.

Tommy pouted silently.

“I’m at my wits end Niki,” Wilbur leaned on the counter, “I can’t bring him back from this.”

The sweltering summer weather was on the way Wilbur had gone to buy ice cream realizing it was just another feeble attempt at fixing something impossible. “He’s been through a lot; the cast just came off didn’t it?” Niki pointed out, “All spring he’s been trapped, maybe take him for a flight! He’s always so happy to come back from those and tell me what he saw,” She giggled.

Wilbur shot up, “You’re a genius!”

A crash stopped Wilbur and unknowingly changed the ever-evolving family of unfortunate crows. A boy stood there wide brown eyes shooting between the knocked over display and Niki and Wilbur. His breathing was heavy.

“Sorry,” he stuttered out.

“It’s okay Tubbo,” Niki quickly assured him, “Accidents happen.”

Wilbur crouched down next to the boy spotting two stubby ram horns poking through his thick brown hair, his bangs were practically covering his eyes. He had long floppy ears and black nails. A hybrid.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Wilbur observed.

Tubbo said nothing staring back with big doe eyes.

“You just move in mate?”

Tubbo shrugged.

Niki gave a sad smile to Wilbur, “His situation is a lot like yours, except it’s just him.”

Wilbur’s body jerked like electricity had shot up his spine. A situation like his huh, an absent father fending for himself. All alone though he was just a kid couldn’t be older than Tommy, that was cruelty. Without hesitation Wilbur offered the kid a place to say welcoming Tubbo into the misfit pack. How he wished he’d met that kid sooner. At first Tommy was apprehensive until Tubbo burned himself on the stove. He wouldn’t let Wilbur go anywhere near him to help cowering like an animal in the corner. When Tommy approached though slowly Tubbo offered his hand. From that day forward the boys were inseparable as Tommy showed Tubbo things the ram boy had never seen and swore to protect him. Wilbur smoked a cigarette on the porch watching the boys climb trees in the backyard. Sometimes when he blinked, he saw himself and Techno climbing those trees. When did Techno go from the scared unsure halfling to a warrior? All Wilbur did was blink.

Running an errand in town the boys were chasing each other as usual when Tommy’s golden wings sprung out, somehow Tubbo had yet to see them.

“Wow!” Tubbo beamed, “Can you fly with those?”

Tommy shrugged, “Kind of.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur raised a brow, “You’re a splendid flyer.”

Tommy gave his wings a flap shrugging again.

It hit Wilbur; Tommy hadn’t flown since that night in the snow. Hadn’t even attempted all summer to stretch his wings.

“Why don’t you guys buy some candy form Niki,” Wilbur handed the two boys money watching them run off.

Wilbur went to a different store to buy his cigarettes. It smelled of cheap smoke and alcohol lined the shelves. It also played the news Niki had stopped showing because she thought it was bad for Tommy to see. Wilbur didn’t totally disagree, but he couldn’t play it at home either. The store was dim and none of the faces looked friendly, besides the slick man who worked at the counter. Tall with a close buzzcut, he wore glasses with two different colored lenses. Wilbur had spoken to Jackmanifold a few times, never in depth, but he knew they shared the same view of L’manburg-it had to end. The conversation had started that summer if you could call it innocently. Now it was becoming real tangible plans with a syndicate closer to the city.

“They’re starting to move the dynamite,” Jackmanifold slid a pack of cigarettes across the counter, “It’s a slow process, but when it’s done the war will end.”

Wilbur scowled; it was for the best. It was a complicated plan and included p6eople sneaking around to plant large undetectable stacks of dynamite around the city. The hardest part would be building the kill switch mechanism from what he understood. To set off he explosives untraceable.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag Wilbur walked towards the exit, “Keep me updated Jack.”

“You got it boss,” Jackmanifold saluted.

Exiting the store Wilbur’s shoulders sagged.

“Wilbur!”

Two boys ran towards Wilbur showing off their spoils from the general store smiles bright and unafraid, unaware of the world crumbling around them. Wilbur returned their bright smiles he was doing this for them.

Summer was hot and the only cooling relief came in the form of a small inflatable pool Wilbur pulled from the basement. The boys got a kick out of splashing each other and Tommy had gotten more comfortable letting his golden feathers flap around like he used to. Wilbur had taken up journaling writing down every insignificant detail of days that dragged on through noon until lunch when suddenly the cool nights went much too fast. He wrote down the day he took the duo fishing, how Tommy never wanted to go again seeing fish struggling was too much for the young boy. How Tubbo tried to show Tommy it wasn’t that bad and trying to eat a raw fish. He wrote about taking Tommy back to the sky the poor boy was practically shaking at the thought.

“Tommy avians weren’t meant to spend so much time tethered to the ground,” Wilbur had said one day.

Tommy shook his head, “Wilbur I can’t last time it was.” He stuttered.

“Last time it was cold and dark,” Wilber gripped Tommy’s shoulder reassuringly, “Today’s perfect.”

Tommy shook his head, “Look Wilbur.”

“I’d like to see it,” Tubbo chirped, “I’ve never seen you fly! Could you take me?”

Tommy looked at Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded, “When he’s older he can.”

The thought of taking Tubbo into the sky was all it took for Tommy to follow Wilbur back into the open air. It really was a perfect day; Wilbur wrote in his journal about how there was no clouds in sight that day. He wrote about Tubbo wanting to get into music after seeing a traveling band in town. Wilbur spent the end of the summer teaching the boys guitar. Tommy snuck into Technoblades old armory in the shed and started to take blades seriously. Wilbur was hesitant but figured Tommy should know how to defend himself. Sending him to learn with Jackmanifold who was sworn from talking about L’manburg. Wilbur wrote about watching the boys grow for two years they turned into brave young men, and for a moment he was proud. They’d had ups and downs but the young men who stood in front of him now were admirable. Wilbur wrote letters his father would never see, and apologies Technoblade deserved.

Fall was right around the corner and Wilbur had given his trench coat to Tommy last winter. He was in town looking for warm clothes for himself as well as Tubbo. The boys were milling about the isles on their own while Wilbur hummed to himself going over his coat choices. When the crowd around the TV caught his eye Wilbur already knew it would be L’manburg coverage. Noticing Tommy and Tubbo at the back of the store Wilbur slowly made his way through the crowd. His heart shattered and his breathing became ragged at the sight of the news coverage, hey were speaking of a beast of pure rage that had knocked down a whole wall in a single blow. Wilbur knew who they meant deep down in his aching bones he knew-but it couldn’t be he went there to bring their father back not join in the bloodshed. They must have been talking about Technoblade as they mentioned his blood red cape and crown on his head- a prince of destruction.

Wilbur ran, he left the boys as he sprinted down the street to the sketchy store on the corner where he bought the cigarettes that started to make him cough. “You have to blow it!” Wilbur slammed his fists on the counter.

“Wil, we can’t,” Jackmanifold tried to calm him, “There’s only a fail-safe button if you were to press that you’d die.”

Wilbur laughed, “It’s almost been three years Jack! What is taking so long!”

Jackmanifold raised his unusually even tone, “It’s not exactly easy sneaking tons of explosives into a maintain and rigging them outside of a war zone!”

“Tell me where,” Wilbur ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mate,” Jackmanifold looked pale.

“Tell me Jack or I swear I’ll burn this place to the ground!” Wilbur grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt his wings spreading far enough to break bottles as they fell off shelves. Jackmanifold spilled the beans and Wilbur spiraled that night packing all of his belongings hastily into a suitcase. Hurrying down the stairs in the dark only to be stopped by a man at the door with blonde hair and arms crossed.

“Where you going Wil?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I have to,” Wilbur trailed off.

“Have to what huh?”

Wilbur winced, when was the last time Tommy had raised his voice in true anger.

“Fucking leave? Like Techno? Like dad?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “Want to leave me here alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Wilbur was trembling, “You have Tubbo.”

“You’re my brother! You’re all I have left of my family Wilbur!” Tommy slammed his fist into the door, “Tell me why you’re leaving! Tell me why Technoblade really left! Tell me if you knew dad was leaving and why nobody gave me any goddamn warning! Why am I the last one to know anything in this family? I. am. A. part. Of. This. Wilbur! Stop treating me like I’ll break if you talk about them! It’s been three years and I haven’t heard you mention them once, just slowly break!”

“What’s going on?”

Wilbur turned he felt lightheaded as he saw Tubbo those same wide brown eyes shining in worry like the first day he saw him.

Tommy was laughing, “Welcome to this shitty family Tubbo! We’re fighting because your brother thinks your nothing!”

Wilbur felt his stomach twist at Tommy’s laugh-he was becoming more like Wilbur- Tommy was better than that. Wilbur thought he had been sly all these years, but Tommy was wise and knew he was falling apart.

“That’s not true Tommy,” Wilbur reached into his pocket pulling out a leather-bound journal holding it out to his brother, “If you don’t believe me then read this, but not yet. I’m going to L’manburg, and you might as well come with me. I hear there’s a safe zone outside of the city. You can read that and all of the books in the desk in my room after this trip. Okay?”

Tommy snatched the book looking at it, “Why would you go there,” he scowled.

“Techno went to get Philza back, but something went wrong. Now I’m going to end this story and get them both home.”

“Fine,” Tommy nodded, “Let’s pack our bags Tubbo.”

Renting a cart all Wilbur could think about was the outburst Tommy had, years of resentment had built inside of him Wilbur had never seen coming. Years of pain and confusion as his family fell apart around him. He was feeding off of Wilburs poor energy it seemed as well. Tommy was better than Wilbur-he had a bright future ahead of him. When they stopped for the night on the first day of their trip Wilbur snuck the leather journal from out of Tommy’s backpack. He wrote an apology letter, for the past present and future. He deserved at least that much.

When they got to the encampment Wilbur felt electricity spike through his body. He jumped from the cart running past confused by standers before his fist collided with a familiar face.

“I deserved that,” A gruff voice spoke.

“You deserve more than that,” Wilbur growled his fist still at the ready.

A tall figure with a muscular build stood before him, an axe at his hip, pink hair growing out to his shoulders. A blood red cape fluttered around his ankles and it looked like he’d broken a tusk.

“You’re right,” Techno nodded.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouted running through the path Wilbur had carved out of the crowd.

Colliding with the tall man there was very little give as Tommy threw his arms around his chest. Techno looked at Wilbur in a pause his arms in the air palms out. Wilbur sighed giving a nod.

Technoblades face was soft as he smiled bending down to hug Tommy, “You’ve gotten so big.”

Wilbur wondered what it was like for Techno, the last time he saw Tommy he was critically injured, a busted leg, hypothermia now he had a full wingspan. Tubbo slowly came to stand next to Wilbur silently watching Tommy hug another hybrid.

“Who’s that?” Techno asked spotting the ram boy.

“My mate Tubbo,” Tommy moved to the boy slinging an arm around his shoulders, “basically part of the family.”

Tubbo gave a small wave.

“He basically saved Tommy after you left,” Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

“Wilbur,” Techno started.

Wilbur walked away without another word into the crowd back to the cart. He pulled it out of the commotion of the tents and stalls to an open part of field. He tied it to a tree and found a large boulder to sit on watching the crowd mill about. Looking at the sky he saw it, the mountain he would be climbing that night. After the sun went down Tommy would get the life he deserved.

As the time wound down Wilbur made sure to spend the day with his brothers even softening up around Technoblade. They ate good food and met better people caught up in a tragedy Tommy slowly realized he didn’t know much about asking Techno question after question to Wilbur’s dismay.

“How sheltered did you keep him?” Techno half joked.

“I just wanted him to be happy,” Wilbur looked at his reflection in his beer, night had fallen he had to leave, “If something happened to me,” he swallowed thickly, “Would you look after both of them?”

“Of course, I would but nothing is going to happen to you out here, it’s safe,” Techno assured him.

“Come home Techno,” Wilbur asked. His answer would change everything. He was the last string holding him together.

“I can’t until this is done,” Techno shoot his head a new braid done by Tommy swished around, “These people need me to keep them safe right now.”

It snapped.

“Right,” Wilbur nodded pulling his knit cap over his ears, “Have you seen Philza out here?”

“A few times, he was trying to be positive, but,” Techno took a drink, “He’s losing himself Wil, it’s bad. If this doesn’t end soon, he won’t be Philza much longer. I’ll get word out you’re here though; he’d rush to see you.”

The thought made Wilbur smirk, he had so much time to rush to see him, it was too late now.

Wilbur squeezed Techno’s shoulder as he said he was going to bed. He hugged Tubbo and hugged Tommy for far too long. He heart was aching; he thought this operation would be easy and as he hugged his youngest brother who had been through the ringer, he second guessed himself. He had to remind himself this was bigger than Tommy, this would stop a whole war. He had come this far-it was for more than just himself.

Lighting a cigarette on his torch Wilbur started to climb the mountain, it was steep, and rocks slid and tumbled with every step he took. How people could be stealthily on this trail he’d never know. He was sure the whole city could hear him scheming. He had his white wings out to help him balance and for comfort-if he fell, he would catch himself. He cursed his white feathers if they were black like his fathers he could have flown up.

Getting to the crest of the mountain the mouth of a cave greeted him. He entered with no hesitation his heart pounding in his chest as he noticed the writing on the walls. The anthem of L’manburg. In the center of the writing was a button-the button that would end it all.

“I knew I’d catch one of you eventually if I waited long enough.”

The voice behind Wilbur turned his veins to ice.

“Turn around slowly,” They demanded, “And come with me. I have a few questions.”

Slowly Wilbur turned to a shocked face holding a shaky sword.

“Wil,” Philza whispered into the dark, “What are you doing?”

“Philza,” Wilbur’s voice cracked.

“Why are you here?” Philza dropped his sword his long blonde hair braided to the side.

Wilbur wondered if Techno had done it. He smiled feeling his mouth wobble, “I want to bring you home.”

“Wilbur I promise to come home as soon as-“

“I’m ending this tonight!” Wilbur shouted, “It’s been three years Philza! Do you know what any of went through? Did Techno tell you how he ran away when Tommy almost died?”

“What?” Philza’s green eyes were wide, ‘I didn’t-“

“What do you still know about us!” Wilbur backed towards the wall, “We’ve grown and changed, and you haven’t been there! I can’t believe you even recognized me!”

“Of course, I recognize you! You’re my son!” Philza shouted.

Wilbur smirked, “I used to proudly tell people I was the mortal son of the crow. Now I say I have a dad somewhere. Except I’ve known exactly where you were all this time. I saw you on TV when no one else seemed to be able to! Causing atrocities. You even brainwashed Technoblade into it because he’d follow you anywhere.”

“Buddy I’ve been,” Philza hesitated.

“So, help me if you say doing your job, I’ll slit my own throat,” Wilbur spat.

Philza stood straighter, “I’ve been helping people, I’ve been a relief effort I’ve only raised my sword to defend.”

Wilbur hung his head, “I wish I believed you,” He looked at Philza with blurry vision tears welling up, “Do better for Tommy.”

Wilbur hit the button.

“NO!” Philza screamed rushing forward as the earth shook and rumbled.

Wilbur closed his eyes waiting for the crushing pain he deserved of mountain debris. Nothing came as the sounds of explosions rang through the night and sparks brighter than the stars lit up the night before the fires. Opening his eyes, he saw black wings extended over him protecting him from harm. Heavy breathing was the only sound as Wilbur looked into his father’s soft eyes and saw fear, panic, and anything but disappointment. Wilbur felt tears fall down his cheeks, but they weren’t his own. Looking to where the small mouth of the cave used to be he saw a gaping hole with crowds of people gathering to see the monster dwelling inside.

Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo stood out, their mouths a gape as they saw Wilbur pinned by their father in a tragic twist of fate. Slowly Philza stood turning to see the same crowd.

“You brought them here,” Philza looked panicked.

Wilbur clutched his own chest, “Philza you have to kill me.”

“What?” Philza whipped back around.

Wilbur stood kicking Philza sword towards him, “You have to kill me. They’ll arrest me.”

“Wil,” Philza shook his head, “We’ll work this out, I’ll talk with them.”

“Your reputation will be ruined.”

“I don’t care about me reputation! I won’t have to keep doing this if I lose it!” Philza stepped closer his hands out like he wanted to comfort Wilbur, but they were shaking.

“Philza they’ll torture me, you know they will.” Wilbur spoke like a dead man.

“I won’t do it in front of them!” Philza screamed, “You’re my son! I won’t kill you in front of your brothers! My children!”

“They’re so much stronger then you know now,” Wilbur picked up the sword from the ground slowly walking towards Philza. He put the hilt in Philzas open palms closing his fingers into fists holding his own clammy hands around Philzas warm ones, “Dad.”

Wilbur whispered his final word as Philza stepped forward and Wilbur hugged his father for the first time in a very long time. He cried silently while his father sobbed onto his shoulder his black wings encircling them as if to make it more private, to spare his brothers from knowing. As Wilbur succumbed to the pain he smiled, they knew, he bet Techno knew all along he came to L’manburg to die. It hurt more then he thought it would, physically or emotionally he couldn’t tell though. The pain in his abdomen was fire, but hearing Philza wail, and Tommy’s voice ringing in his ear Wilbur closed his eyes feeling cold, and warm against his father and his feathers.

“Wilbur, my strongest son,” Philza whispered.

They were the last words Wilbur heard. ------- Traveling in silence a day later Tommy was flipping through the journal Wilbur had given him, it was all of Wilbur’s personal thoughts. Tommy felt like a fool saying Wil hadn’t cared about him. He’d documented everything, several times he talked about how brave, and strong Tommy had gotten two summers ago. Their first winter flight together- how impressed Wilbur was. Tommy was a fool, he wrapped Wilbur’s old coat tighter around his shoulders trying not to cry where everyone could hear. If this was just one journal he wondered how many were in Wilbur’s desk, what they all said. At the end of this one Wilbur mentioned getting the family back together. He looked up at Philza driving the cart- he held Tommy so tight last night. It reminded him of the forest when he broke his leg. Idly flipping through Tommy noticed writing he had missed on the front cover earlier.

Dear Tommy,

You were served a rotten hand in this life, with a father who disappeared and brothers who were broken. Techno and I tried our best I promise you that, but we weren’t equipped to bring you up still being kids ourselves. We were scared- I was scared- of letting you down. I’ve written a journal full of apologies to Tehcnoblade, and I was a fool to think after Tubbo showed up you weren’t owed anything. You are owed a dozen apologies from three people, but I hope I am sufficient. If you’re reading this at all there’s a good chance I didn’t come home okay, or I didn’t come home at all, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. This life wasn’t for me Tommy, I am in pain and I don’t know how else to stop it. You dulled this pain for so long I almost forgot I was suffering. I never realized how it was affecting you, and you were right, you’ve bene in the dark for a long time, because no one wanted ot hurt you- instead we did the opposite. Don’t be mad at Philza – our father never wanted to be a figure head, he wanted to be a man who made his family proud, and you should be proud of him. He would do anything for us, he just hasn’t had a lot of choices when it’s come to fate. If he could leave it behind, I know he would just to spend every day listening to you catch him up on what he missed. Be gentle with Technoblade, under his tough exterior out brother is soft and scared of what you think of him. When he left it was with good intentions to bring our father back. He gets caught up in his own head and becomes a danger to himself more than others. If you see him start to clam up don’t let him- bother him every day. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he wants to talk about it, he wants to feel something. Protect Tubbo when this is all over. Our family will be fractured and hurt, Tubbo has only ever had a broken family, he’ll hurt watching the pain work its way through your hearts differently. He’ll fell like an outsider with no right to mourn, but I believe Tubbo became just as much of a brother to me. I know he saved you from yourself, you might need to save him in return. Just remember not to be too strong, let yourself feel. We as a family hid our emotions for too long. Lastly, I have a large request I may not even know comes true, but don’t be mad at me. If I could have, I would have done this differently, but there was no more time. I needed to be free, you needed to be free. Tommy you’ve grown into a brilliant, gentle, curious soul who puts others before himself. Who is afraid to put himself first, listen to yourself more, trust yourself more. You are important and deserve to take care of you. I would have loved to see you continue to grow as you come into your own, but it wasn’t meant to be. Remember avians weren’t meant to be on the ground too long. Find me amongst the clouds on your next trip to the sky. Your brother forever, Wilbur.

Tommy hiccupped grabbing the ends of Wilbur’s jacket tight as he dropped the book, curled into a ball and sobbed, not for himself, but his brother whose hurt he never got to understand.

#dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #major character death #dream smp #c!techno #c!wilbur #c!philza

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hannahcoursey · 5 years ago

Text

Wind Chill

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,838

Request: Hi there! Do u think u could do an imagine where the reader almost freezes to death and wakes up in Dean’s arms? You can pick the circumstances, but I think it’d be fab! xoxo

The days had been getting shorter as the end of December rolled its way closer and closer. You and the boys had your eye out on every news outlet and local scanners for anything that went bump in the night, but the radio waves were eerily silent.

The three of you sat in the library, all working on your own things. Sam sat in front of his laptop, tapping away, the clicking of the keyboard the only noise that floated through the bunker. You were neck-deep in a new book that you had gotten your hands on at a thrift store during the last job you’d worked a few towns over. It was some sappy love story that made your heart flutter and your face blush and you would never be caught dead reading it - which is why you’d ripped off the front cover. Dean sat closest to you, swirling around a glass of whiskey that was a sip from being empty. The silence between the three of you was comfortable and welcomed in your hectic lives. That was, of course, until Dean couldn’t sit still any longer.

“Okay I am officially ready to rip my eyes out,” He announced, standing and wiping his hand down his face. Sam stuttered a laugh and shook his head.

“Go kill something, you’re nicer when you're not bloodthirsty.” Sam finished, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him. You smiled and looked up at Dean.

“You hungry? I can whip something up for dinner.” You asked, peering up at the elder Winchester. He looked at you pointedly.

“Y/N, in all fairness, the last time you cooked, I was feeling it for the rest of the week - and not with my mouth.” He squinted, wincing inaudibly. You rolled your eyes.

“Fine - starve for all I care,” You stood up and put your book under your arm. “I’m gonna go see what we have.”

“I think I might hit the sack, a nice afternoon delight don’t sound all that bad right about now.” Dean said to your back as a yawn interrupted his words.

“Dean you do realize what an afternoon delight is right?” Sam scoffed, amusing no one but yourself. Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s the afternoon and it's delightful.” Dean’s voice dripped in sarcasm as his feet padded down the hallway. You turned and caught Sam’s eye, the both of you chuckling lightly. As you stepped into the kitchen, you reached for the light. The pantry in the open shelves was more than bare, only a box of pancake mix and a dwindling loaf of bread was in sight. You walked over and opened the fridge. 2 beers sat at eye level and a head of browned lettuce sat next to it. You tossed the lettuce and closed the fridge, grabbing the keys to one of the cars in the garage and searching for your coat.

“Hey Sam, I’m gonna go for a run,” You walked out to the library, just as Sam was closing up his laptop.

“Y/N, it’s already,” Sam started, looking down at his watch, blinking a few times, “6:30 - can it wait for tomorrow?” His eyes looked heavy as he questioned you.

“Unless you want a heaping plate of oxygen for dinner, no.” You smiled, “It’ll be quick, the longest part is the drive there and back, it won’t take awhile.” You finished, making it obvious that you weren’t asking. Sam nodded and rubbed his eyes.

“Alright well, I think I might take a nap; I could recite the local news in my sleep at this point, I've read it so many times.” He scratched at his neck. Finally spotting your jacket hanging on the railing of the steps leading to the door, you crossed the room and put it on.

“I don’t blame you, get some rest and when you wake up I’ll have dinner made.” You padded up the iron steps, looking over at his large frame. A smile crawled up his features.

“Y/N, you don’t have to cook for him,” He squinted at you sarcastically, “You could burn the bunker down and he’d still love you.” He finished as you waved your hand at him.

“Shut up Sam.” You replied, snarky. With a small laugh, he turned and walked down the hallway, right as you slipped out the door.

The garage doors opened, letting in a blast of white snow. The road out in front of the drive was covered and it was coming down hard. When you pulled out onto the road, your back tires skidded and lost traction, causing you to fishtail for a brief moment. You slowed down and adjusted to the conditions, driving a little steadier and slower than you usually would. The sky was pitch black, if you didn’t know any better you’d guess it was 2am. As you made your way to the grocery store that was around half an hour away you promised yourself you’d make it quick before the weather got any worse.

Once you arrived, you rushed yourself around the store, grabbing peanut butter, jelly and bread for sandwiches, then grabbed some bacon, pie and lunchmeat. You made sure to get some salad, croutons and dressings for Sam, as well as some frozen fruit so he could make smoothies for after his morning jogs. After gathering together some pasta, chips and miscellaneous items you headed for the only open register. You got back into your car and checked the time. It was almost 8:00 and you’d spent well over 45 minutes in the store. Cursing at yourself slightly, you started up your car and slowly moved on your way back to the bunker.

The snow had laid down thick, leaving an icy blanket across the pavement, your tires crunching it beneath their weight as you prayed you’d make it back. It had begun to sleet, the freezing rain making your windshield wipers useless. Your wheels were slipping and even time you slowed down, your breath hitched, fully expecting not to get moving again. You came to an intersection, looking around at your options. Straight ahead, there was more traffic, but not a straight shot home. To your right was a back road that led almost right to the bunker’s front door. You hesitated. Taking a breath you decided that maybe going the quicker route would leave you with a better outcome.

You pulled the wheel, moving down the beaten path. Just as the final streetlight left your vision, your car slowly took you off course, slowly fishtailing into a ditch. You yanked the wheel in the opposite direction and smashed the accelerator, but it was no use. Your wheels spun as you settled, the right side of your car tipping into the frozen outcove. You looked down at the clock. You’d only made it about 10 minutes. You have got to be kidding me. Patting the pockets of your jacket, you found your phone and switched it on. “No Signal” flashed across the dim screen as if it was taunting you. You slid it back in your pocket and looked around. You reached for the door, but it didn’t budge. You pushed your body weight against it and bounced hard, yet it hardly moved an inch. So much for walking back to the store. You turned up the heat and turned up the music just a notch. Might as well get comfortable. You peered around the back, spotting a wrapped up blanket underneath the bench seat that you’d remembered leaving a few months back. You brought it up front and laid it across you and listened to the drone of the radio.

----

A few hours passed and you checked your phone like you had done every 10 minutes. Still no signal. Sighing, you glanced at the clock. 12:48am. How had they not noticed that you weren’t back yet? A chill slipped down your spine - it wasn’t from the cold that seeped in the sheet metal of the car - What if they’d fallen asleep for the night? You shook your head. No, you promised them food, they never forgot when you volunteered to make dinner. A flashing orange light on your dashboard drew your thoughts away from the boys; Your gas was running low. No gas, no heat. You sat up straight and looked around. There were no cars in sight, everyone preferring to stay inside during the blizzard. You leaned forward and twisted the key in the ignition, the engines’ rumble fizzing out along with the ambient music of the stereo. You sat back in your seat and tried to calm your mind, as the icy chill from outside slipped its way into the car, minute by minute.

----

The blanket was doing nothing at this point. Your movements were almost painful, your extremities vibrating with the numbness that fell over them hours ago. You had tried to turn the car on an hour or so ago, but it only sputtered in response. It was 6:57am. Your teeth had stopped chattering around 3 and you hadn’t slept a minute of it. The cold was oddly uncomforting, you couldn’t drift off in the state you were in. Your eyes had grown heavier now, which worried you more than anything. You fought to stay awake, but the cold unconsciousness welcomed you into the darkness. The upside was that you didn’t feel cold anymore; you just felt tingling. The sun had begun to rise, the orange glow casting a dim shadow through the thick snow-covered car. Your eyes fluttered. Stay awake. You tried to sit up but you were just so tired. A loud knock on your window forced your eyes open; you hadn’t even realized you’d shut them.

“Y/N?” A deep voice questioned, muffled by the layers of snow that had settled over your car since you’d landed there. The car shook lightly at first and then violently, until the door crackled and creaked next to your head, allowing the sunrise to pour in. Cold air blasted in the car, your hair whipping around your face. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Dean’s, searching yours. You tried to smile, but you couldn’t feel your face move, his name fell flat on your lips. His hand laid against your face like a hot iron scorching your cool skin. You sucked in a breath and he pulled away.

“Dean,” You tried, licking your lips, “It’s looking like I’m gonna have to make dinner another night.” You tried to smile but your lips tingled, forcing your laugh sounding more like a wheeze.

“Don’t worry about dinner, come on.” His brows were pulled up as he looked down at you, pulling you closer to him.

“Dean, it’s been below zero all night,” Sam walked over and whispered to his brother, not so quietly. “You can’t last all that long in weather like that, she ne-” He started, but Dean shot him a look.

“I know Sammy,” He growled, exchanging looks at one another, before Sam turned around and opened the door to the backseat of the Impala. Dean looked back down at you and pulled you up to his chest, holding you close to him. He was so warm. Your eyes fluttered, constantly at war with trying to keep them open. The Impala’s heat was blasting as he settled in the back with you in his lap. Sam walked to the front and pulled out, leaving your car in the ditch. There was no music, only the rumble of the engine drifting through the cabin. You felt like you could sleep for days.

“Hey, hey, hey, keep those pretty eyes open, alright sweetheart?” Dean’s hand fell onto your cheek again as he held your head up lightly.

“Dean, I’m-” You whispered and he leaned down closer, “I’m tired.” You slurred, your eyes rolling slightly.

“C’mon Y/N wake up,” His deep voice pulled you momentarily out of the coma that was dragging you under, “Look at me, keep your eyes on mine, okay?” His face was inches away from yours, his warm breath slipping over your features. You looked up at him again, meeting his worried expression.

“I can’t-” You tried to explain it, but you couldn’t manage the words, “I’m tired.” You finished hardly above a whisper, as your eyes rolled back one last time and your world went dark. The last thing you felt was Dean shaking you.

----

You woke up to arms surrounding you. Your body was sore and felt like you had gone 7 rounds with Lucifer and your head pounded. You moved your fingers around, feeling them and making sure that they were all still there. Looking up, you connected the arms to a body and the body to a head. Your heart dropped to your toes as you looked up, analyzing every freckle that splayed across his nose. His eye’s flickered underneath their lids. I wonder what he’s thinking. You looked around. You were in Dean’s room, the guns hanging on the walls a clear indicator of the Winchester’s belongings. Slowly pulling his arm off your waist, it suddenly tightened. He grumbled deeply behind you, before roping you back in and laying his hand on the side of your face. Except when you looked up at him this time, he was already looking back at you.

“Mornin’ Frosty.” He grinned, his voice gravely and sexy. Hearing his voice like this woke up a beast in you that begged to be touched by him. You looked away as the thought ran through your head.

“Very funny.” You mused. His hand pulled your face up, his finger under your chin.

“I’m not laughing,” He said, his expression blank, “Y/N, you were in zero degree weather for almost twelve hours, do you know how close of a call that is?” He shook his head slightly and leaned up on his arm while looking at you. “Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come, I would’ve got you.” He questioned.

“I had no signal, I tried - it didn’t work.” You shrugged, looking down at your hands. He let out a sigh.

“When I woke up and you weren’t there, I just about tore the place apart,” He ran a hand through his hair, “I thought something had taken you, but then Sam said you’d left to get some food. When I opened the door and saw the weather, I knew you had to be out there somewhere.” His hand reached up and caressed your face, taking you by surprise. “Y/N, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.” His voice was hardly above a whisper. You stared at him, eyes wide.

“Dean,” You hesitated, not sure how to take it, “I appreciate you and Sam worrying about me-” You started.

“No it’s not like that,” He shook his head, inching closer to you, “I mean, I don’t worry about you the way Sam does,” He cocked his head to the side, “Well I hope it’s not the same, that would be an issue.” He said more to himself than to you, his eyes drifting past you in thought.

“I’m not sure I follow.” You muttered. His eyes looked down at you again.

“I’m saying that not knowing where you were for a minute there had me going like nothing else.” His lips were plush and mere inches away from you and you had to mentally remind yourself not to stare at them. And you were failing miserably. “I never want to let you out of my sight again.” He whispered, pausing a moment before leaning in and brushing his lips gently to yours. The blood rushed through you, giving you chills for a whole different reason than earlier. His hand slid through your hair and with his other hand he pulled your body closer to his. You returned the kiss, leaning in, pressing against him harder, When he pulled back, he searched your eyes for a response.

“Then don’t.” You whispered in return, a small grin crawling over your features. He matched your smile and pulled you in. He smelled like old cologne and worn leather and you breathed it in all you could. When he pulled back, he gave you a grin and held your face in his hand.

“God, I have waited so long to do that.” He smirked, his confession taking you by surprise.

“Well, maybe you should do that more,” You shrugged sarcastically, “I don’t hate it all that much.” You beamed up at him, unable to hide your happiness.

“Oh you don’t hate it?” His eyebrows shot up, his words filled with the sarcasm that made you love him, “That’s good, I’m glad you don’t.” He chuckled, pulling you down to his chest.

You knew that from now on, most of your days would be spent like this; laying on his chest, stealing kisses and exchanging laughs - and you didn’t want to spend them any other way.

----

Hey guys! I hope you liked this one - if you have any requests submit them to me and I’ll give em’ a go!

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

Text

Vietnam, New York and Hawkins (Sriracha, Part 35.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Coming back to Hawkins meant only one thing in Hopper‘s mind. Bringing all the memories down, bringing the relationship in front of another test. But this one was about to show you if this is the over or not.

A/N: It gets intense. Intense, my babez. Because my Hopper detective story book just arrived and isnpired me for some cool stuff.

Warnings: ANGST: Serious angst. They go hard on each other this time.

Word count: 3.1 K

Tagging: @nemodoren, @creedslove, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy

Master list: H E R E

You took a pretty long time before getting better. It was three days of you having high fever, coughing, and not being able to move. You barely gained some consciousness; not even when Harrington or Hopper came to check up on you. When the doctor came to see you, he asked your mom to keep the eye on you - keep you hydrated, sometimes waking you up to have at least a slice of bread or to take a piss.

You were done for. Nobody was that surprised about that since you laid down onto the snow only in a dress on a stormy night. Some obvious consequences were coming for you.

But you did wake up one morning at felt normal enough to at least walk downstairs to have breakfast. Your legs hurt like living fuck, you could barely walk and every step you took was taken with a half-screamed cuss. Your mom was in the kitchen, listening to a mixtape that was familiar to you.

You, before you entered the kitchen, stood there for a while; it were the Romantics because, of course, she found your old mix in one of the boxes that mysteriously disappeared out of your room. They were there before you got sick - but they were gone when you woke up. And it wasn‘t pleasant to hear that fucking song when you had a dream that Jim carried you home in his fucking arms when he wasn‘t even there.

“Hey, who you‘re hiding from, jackass?” - Someone circles arms around your waist and picked you up, making you scream. - “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, you stink.” - Aiden laughed into your ear before hugging you tight. He didn‘t make it on Christmas, but now, you had that bastard home.

“Hi, oh Lord, you‘re so big, fuck-face.” - You mumbled before hugging him once again. You were a bit delirious since you were out of order for the last four days.

“How did you called your sister, young man? And what about you, young lady?” - Your mom came forward, making you both jump, your old dog following her. That reminded you about the songs playing once again. Your and Jim‘s playlist. The one tape he bought you in ‘83 and to which you added more and more songs.

“How are you? We‘ve been worried.” - Aiden asked you and made sure you followed him to the kitchen to eat something.

“It was pretty wild. I had some crazy dreams, I must‘ve fainted in the restaurant I was at with Steve. Was he mad?” - You asked quietly, nibbling at a piece of pomelo you took from the table.

“Why you think so?” - Your mom asked as you sit down the table, having Aiden pouring you a cup of coffee. You nodded, trying to think of the words to express what was on your mind.

“It was like... I was there with Steve and we noticed a hobo standing in the storm. Steve went to talk to the man, then sent me there... And it was like... Jim standing in front of me. I must’ve slipped and hit my head real hard.” - You looked at Aiden, who was giving you a look back. - “It hurt. To see him. But it was so nice at the same time.”

“But... He’s here.” - Your mom stated carefully. You almost spat the pomelo back on the table when your stomach contracted with sudden pain. Your hand was trembling and you were... You couldn’t understand what was happening around you.

“Jim carried you home that night. He looks bad and he was through a lot, you can just see it on him. And he didn’t want to talk about it with any of us.” - She continued more quietly. You could feel your breath hitch in your throat. How many times are you going to go through that? Having Hopper by your side only for him to disappear again? You didn’t know what was worse - losing him, again, for a long time, thinking he had died and giving up on your life or... To have him back, not knowing when will he disappear again.

You haven’t even spoken to him, you haven’t seen him properly, but you were already afraid that if he’s back, it surely means that one day, he will disappear again. What kind of a sick joke was all of this? Were you ready to see him? Did you want to talk to him? Did you need an apology?

“Hey, come on, sis, calm down.” - Aiden caught your face into his palms, making you look at him. Great. Now, you had tripped out again. You had another of your panic attacks and broke down in tears and fear without realizing it. - “You’re good, come on. You’re not alone in this.” - Your younger brother whispered to your hair, making you slip into the embrace.

Your mom wasn’t glad to see you like this. But this time, just as the last time, Jim had a reason not to come back for a long time. Even though he was presumed dead for the last six months, leaving you alone with Eleven. And if your mom knew something about Hopper it was that Hopper was a good guy. He treated you and your baby girl with respect and love, so even if it was breaking her to see you so desperate, he deserved a chance to speak up. To tell you what happened before you’d tell him to go to hell.

“He’s not here... Not now. Have a bath, take a while to come around that information, talk to the man. He looks miserable enough. Maybe even more miserable than you, sis.” - Aiden chuckled to your ear. You straightened yourself slowly, gently wiping the tears away. You were nodding. Aiden helped you to the stairs.

“I’m taking parents to New Orleans for the weekend to meet Lena’s parents. You two will have plenty of space and time to talk. Yell at him, break some plates, call him a jackass, just try it with him, yeah?” - Aiden reassured and you nodded again, trying to calm yourself down. - “Wherever that son of a bitch was, he came back from the hell and searched for you in the worst night he could try it on. That’s what I call fucking love.”

Aiden was probably right... For the most part. That could be seen as love. But were you really in love with Hopper at that time? Or was it the memory you’ve carried in your head? Was it the wish you had in your heart? Or were you in love with the real Jim?

Were you still in love with the guy who was taking Tuinal out of prescription, who had bad nightmares, who was broken-hearted so many times it turned him aggressive, paranoid, and hurt? That dude who fucked almost every bachelorette in Hawkins before you made him settle down? Would you still give up on your scholarship if you had to make the decision again? Would you stay there for him if you’d how much pain waits after that?

You didn’t know. You honestly couldn’t answer that question. That was why you went to the guest room after spending almost an hour in the shower. Before stepping in, you took in a deep breath, preparing yourself. But the room was clean. There was only his bag in the corner of the room along with a few boxes of clothing you managed to save from the rampaged cabin. But then you saw it.

That fucking small tube of blue pills on the table. You went for it - just to look at the date printed on it. It said he bought it four days ago. Why the fuck was it half-empty then? Were you really in that phase again? Taking drugs? That was what Hopper was up to again? Surprisingly, you couldn't find anything more interesting - no post, letters, photos, his wallet, nothing. It was maybe he wasn’t there, that would be logical, but you wanted to know more.

You got the chance an hour after your family packed all the stuff into one car. Your parents obviously knew why Aiden suddenly planned a trip to New Orleans, they weren't dumb, but your talk needed to be down and to be honest, you two couldn't be bothered during that time. It will be hard enough for both of you already without your parents inserting themselves. Which would, of course, happen since neither of them could stand their baby being hurt by anyone.

You were just snuggling with Lady in front of the fireplace, drinking some hot cocoa when you heard the door quietly close. Hopper was a bit worried - anyone was there, he didn't know that they're leaving and you were in your bed with fevers. Or, that was what he thought before he put the groceries on the countertop, seeing you sitting there.

But you didn't turn to look at him. You were too scared of that. You just moved closer to Lady. Neither of you spoke for ten to twenty minutes - Hopper was just standing there, which was honestly unnerving you. But you got why didn't say a word. You didn't know how to start either.

"Six months." - Slipped past your lips as you worked your way up to Lady’s ears. - "I was left alone in Hawkins for six months. And suddenly, you just appear in front of a restaurant I'm having dinner at and..."

"I scared you, didn't I?" - Hopper asked as quietly as you talked. You shook your head right away.

"You confused the living fuck out of me. Why me? What did I do to anyone to deserve this? Having the man I love taken from me... Twice, might I say, just for a stranger to come back?" - You looked at him for the first time, having tears in your eyes. That was when Hopper felt it's not going to go well. This was it. The last stop. A final talk - resolving into a fight where you might or might not break that the things off with him.

And as for you... Your eyes widened as you watched the man. You didn't know him, but this, for God's sake, wasn’t Hopper at all. This man no matter how tall he was, appeared thin. Like if a rough wind could break him apart. His skin was almost see-through, his eyes were... Without a single drop of passion in them. He hadn't got hair or his significant mustache, let alone the beard. There was a slight stubble, yeah, but that was it. And let's be honest, he must've been looking way worse when he came to your home.

"All I asked for, was you. You as a whole. With all your troubles, thoughts, ideas, even the dumb ones. I didn't ask for pain so intense that at times, I couldn't get out of bed. I didn't ask for having shirts reminding me of the man I loved. I didn't fucking ask for having hallucinations of you walking into my room, hugging me when I cried myself to sleep. Do you even realize what have you done to me? Or did you didn't think about that?" - You asked with a small smile. It wasn’t a happy one, though. This one was painful as fuck. It made Jim sit on the couch behind the fireplace just so he couldn't see you looking at him.

"I don't know what should I tell you." - Hopper told you honestly. That was when you got up, having Lady following you around, taking the tube of pills and putting it next to him on the conference table so loud, it made a bang.

"Start with the truth, perhaps?" - You asked the man, looking down at him. You had the upper hand and you knew it. You fucking knew it. You could feel the power of breaking him apart at the tips of your fingers. Just as he broke you apart. In your eyes, Hopper would deserve it.

"Believe me when I tell you that Tuinal is the smallest thing that happened to me." - Jim mumbled and got up as well, pacing around. And there it was. - "Because the shit I've been through you a) can't even imagine and b) wouldn't believe."

"Oh, I wouldn't believe? Come on. Jim, honestly, when I look at you, I don't even feel relieved that you're back. The only thing I see is pain. Because the first thought I had when mom told me you're real was ’oh fuck, how much time I have before he leaves again? A week? A month? A year if I'm lucky?’" - You told him honestly, having tears streaming down. But your voice was just cold. Colder than ice.

"I did insane shit just to come back to you! Look at me! Do you think that I'm fucking proud to walk around lookin’ like a piece of shit? Do you even listen to what you’re saying?" - He started to yell for a second, making your blood freeze in your veins for a while. He never yelled at you like that. This was aggressive, he had done that before, but he was hurt. Just as you were. - "Every fuckin’ day, every shitty second of the last half of the year, I had you on my mind. You and Eleven were the only thing that made me goin’. When I was freezin’ to death, starvin’ or didn't even feel my fuckin’ body, I had you on my mind, wishin’ you would... Not even kiss me. Just to touch me. Just to look my way. That was the only thing I wanted. But the only thing you talk about is you. How you're hurt. What kind of a son of a bitch I am. Do you even realize how much are you hurting me?" - He asked a bit unbelievably, making you stop for a second.

Jim had his points, that needed to be said. You didn't exactly see through your bubble. But that made you only angrier.

"Grow the fuck up and pull yourself together, James. You're not five. You're fucking twice my age, you should know what you're doing. I am young and I could've had a life somewhere if you..." - You yelled back, pushing into his shoulders, hitting him into the shoulder. - "If you didn't even come along. If you didn't make me work as your secretary, I could be starting a family in Indianapolis, loving someone, I could have kids, maybe an actual future and career... Instead of spending three years in here... Loving you." - You yelled sitting on the ground, having Lady coming to snuggle into your thigh to comfort you. But you couldn't be comforted.

"You said you're not in love anymore?" - Hopper whispered emotionlessly, sitting down a few feet away from you. It felt so... Uncomfortable and painful. But maybe that was what you needed to break out of the chains. You looked at him over your tears, trying to calm down.

"I honestly don't even know anymore." - You answered honestly, looking into the flames once again, having no emotion except pain in your face. Hopper was doubting himself just a few feet apart from you, crying as well.

It was so known. Falling out of love and screaming hurtful things at each other. He already knew that from the time he and Diane were getting a divorce. He wasnt happy since that time until he met you, puking on his car, making him horrified. But when he fell in love... Oh Lord, nothing could bring him down to see the reality around. Nothing had the ability to make Hopper fly in the clouds just as your presence had.

He vividly remembered the days he was driving you to town, having you singing You Don't Mess Around With Jim into the whole morning Hawkins. The nights snuggled in the trail while he played Helplessly Hoping so you could sleep and feel safe and sound. The images of him making you breakfast, bringing it into the bed just for the food to end up on the sheets as you put your hand on his jaw, kissing him. That was his definition of love and safety. Two persons in love emerging into one since that was what felt like the right thing to do.

Which obviously was long gone for you. And from some points of view, he could see why you weren't able to open up just as he did when he carried you home. You were happy that Hopper came back, somewhere deep inside, but that was long forgotten under the layers of hatred, anger, pain, grief, fear, and depression.

"But I don't even know who I am. I got lost, like, I was in a dark place when you weren't here. Since El left for Maine... I wasn’t able to live a life." - You whispered after a while, still smoothing Lady laying by your side.

"Can you give me one last go before you tell me to fuck off for good? I swear that this time, I will tell you everythin’. The whole truth from the beggin’ to the end." - Hopper looked you in the eyes. You closed your eyes, thinking about the answer. Was that a good idea? No. It surely wasnt. Did he deserve it? Yes, he probably did.

"Fine. One last chance. One last shot and if you fuck up, I won't ever see you again. You will just disappear. You won't touch me, kiss me, look at me weird, or, you're gone. You will be acting like my roommate." - You informed him, standing up. He only nodded, looking into the flames.

"We'll talk tomorrow, I'm just too fucked up to pay attention now." - You said before going to your bedroom, locking yourself in. That night, you cried yourself to sleep again. Not because you missed him - but because you were afraid that most likely, he will be leaving the other day.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #stranger things #stranger things hopper #stranger things netflix #jim hopper stranger things #oh shit #oh my god #oh fuck

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writingdayandnight · 5 years ago

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Never Really Over (Part Two) - Rafael Barba Imagine

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reagan!Reader (Blue Bloods)

Word Count: 2.1k

Part One: (x)

A/N: Here’s part two! Flashbacks are in italics. Let me know if I should leave it here or make a little series. Feedback is always appreciated!! x

You laid in bed, flat on your back staring at the ceiling. Tears stained your cheeks and the pillowcase. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the alarm going off beside you. Reluctantly, you dismissed the alarm and tossed your legs over the side of the bed.

Today was New Year’s Eve, so you had taken the day off work. You couldn’t bare the idea of walking into the precinct after everything that had happened less than twelve hours ago. It hurt enough being there on normal days.

Opening the blinds, you saw a light cover of snow blanketing the ground. The brought a small smile to your lips. Snow in New York was your favorite thing. You always thought you could brave the cold, but each time you were sadly mistaken. Cold hands and frozen ears were never worth it.

“It’s snowing pretty badly out there. Maybe you should stay the night,” Rafael spoke gently, rubbing circles on your bare back.

“I’ll be fine. You know how much I love the snow.”

“Y/N, it’s a blizzard out there. I just want you to be safe.”

His words made your heart skip a few beats. You were always the one protecting other people, so hearing someone express their concern over your safety was a welcomed change.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” you whispered, snuggling closer into Rafael’s arms. Soon enough, the two of you were asleep and intertwined.

You made your way to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. The smell always reminded you of Rafael for obvious reasons. You always said that he drank too much coffee, but he would simply reply, “Don’t worry about me, angel,” before placing a kiss on your cheek and leaving for work. He was as stubborn as they come, just like you.

Checking your phone, you noticed that you had 26 missed calls, all of them from Erin. You ignored her messages, except for the one about how she left your non-perishable groceries outside of the door. You made a mental note to thank her, grabbing the bags. Tonight’s party would prove a needed distraction from last night’s chaos. It had been a tough year for everyone; they deserved a night of fun, regardless of your emotional tumult.

Your mind drifted to the first New Year’s Eve you spent with Rafael, arguably the night that changed everything.

It was 11:55 PM and the party was still going strong. Everyone was exchanging New Year’s resolutions, ranging from working out more to using vacation days. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself in the kitchen. You were extremely grateful to be apart of such a loving squad.

“Do you need any help?” Rafael spoke, entering the kitchen.

“Do you mind handing me the empty bottles of champagne? I’ll use them for vases later.”

“Would have never taken you as a crafter,” he chuckled.

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Barba.”

Your cheeks felt hot and flushed, as you brushed a piece of hair behind your ears. You could cut the tension with a knife. It was even worse when your hands brushed, the feeling of electricity lingering for longer than it should.

You began to hear the room chant, “TEN...NINE...EIGHT...”

Rafael grabbed your hand, spinning you around. You were cheek to cheek. “FIVE...FOUR....” On the count of one, Rafael, caressing your cheeks, planted a kiss on your lips.

“Happy New Year’s.” He smirked, leaving you speechless in the kitchen.

By noon, you had texted Carisi to stop at the store and pick up the butter, eggs, and drinks that you had left at the store. He lectured you about waiting until the last minute to shop, to which you replied with a simple, “Thanks, Sonny.”

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the right placement for the decorations. There was too much gold in the living room but not enough in the kitchen. The streamers were too short and the balloons were taking forever to blow up. Nothing was going right. Overwhelmed, you sat down on the floor and began to cry.

It had been a hard day at work. You were coming off a double after working two cases, both involving children. It was dead end after dead end. Exhaustion and frustration had set in and you couldn’t hold back the tears. You sobbed, face in palms, hoping for a bit of release.

You were sobbing so hard that you didn’t even notice Rafael open the door. He immediately dropped his bag and coat to rush to your side. His arms were opening, engulfing you in a hug. He swayed, telling you that everything was going to be okay. Aware of the cases you had been working on, he knew you just needed silent support. A shoulder to cry on.

You sat like there for what felt like an eternity. Time had stopped and the only thing that mattered was the two of you. Before long, Rafael had ushered you to bed, offering you a glass of water and fresh pair of pajamas. You gladly accepted, falling into bed with little hesitation.

“I love you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek, before turning off the light. You fell asleep comforted by safety he provided.

You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your face. You needed to freshen up before the guests started arriving. Carisi had just texted you that he was on his way and you didn’t want to put a damper on the party. Mainly, you didn’t want anyone to see you cry and ask what was causing it. You frankly wanted to forget that you had even seen Rafael.

Before you could make it to the bathroom, there was a knock at the door. You muttered a profanity under your breath, cursing Carisi and his infamous punctuality. Although, Carisi wasn’t the one at the door.

“Y/N,” a familiar stranger spoke.

“Rafael.” Tears began to well up and your hands were trembling.

He looked as emotionally-drained as you. You could tell he hadn’t slept either; the stubble on his chin and the dark circles under his eyes were a dead giveaway.

You shakily gestured for him to come in, barely managing to ask if he wanted anything to drink. He declined.

“I owe you an explanation,” he said.

You were anxious to get home and see Rafael. He hadn’t answered your calls or texts all day, which wasn’t unusual, but he didn’t have trial. He would at least send you a message around lunchtime telling you what time to expect him home. You received nothing today.

Opening the front door, you called out for your fiancé. No answer. You searched the house before finding a note on the kitchen counter.

It detailed how he needed a change. He had quit his job and needed to leave that world behind. Unfortunately, that meant leaving you. He reiterated how important you were to him and how much he loved you, but that apparently wasn’t enough to make him stay. He ended the note with the reassurance that you would always be his forever.

Just like that, three years of your life had come to an end. You were left without a fiancé, without your best friend. You were left with a shell of yourself, empty without your soulmate.

The only cliche worse than love at first sight was the idea that time heals wounds. Everyone had offered that maxim at family dinners, after a tough case, on what would have been your anniversary. Little did they know that you were falling apart. You tried to hold it together and put on a brave face, but it was hard. At one point you had considered moving to Chicago and forgetting about your life in New York. Deep down, though, you knew running wouldn’t solve the problem. The only thing that would was giving yourself time to grieve and acknowledging your strength, things you realized after seeing a therapist. Having somebody to talk to who was unfamiliar with your situation and who offered positive advice was everything you needed. Slowly, you began to become yourself again. Within the past three months, you had felt like a real human being for the first time since it all happened. You were beginning to heal.

“Where was my explanation when you left, Rafael? Because a letter wasn’t enough.”

“I know. You deserved more, you still do.”

The room fell silent. You noticed he was rubbing circles on the back on his hand, something that he did when he was nervous.

“Why did you do it? Why did you leave?” You pleaded for the truth, something you had been searching for over the past year.

“I needed a change. I wasn’t in the right headspace to give you my love for the rest of our lives,” he took a deep breath, fighting back tears, “I was telling Erin about my new job when you saw us, about how much better my life had gotten.”

You winced when he said that his life was better. Of course you wanted him to be happy, but why couldn’t he be happy with you?

He noticed your reaction, “What I mean by that is my life feels meaningful in every aspect except for love. I miss you, Y/N. I miss the life we had together, our friends, our future, our passion,” he reached out for your hand, but you didn’t reciprocate.

“I am glad that you’re happy. I wish nothing for the best for you, Rafael, but-” you stopped yourself, trying to find the right words, “why did you have to leave me?”

It was like your hearts both broke all over again.

“I don’t know. I...I thought that’s what I needed but I was wrong. Every step of the way I wanted you by my side, but I knew it was too late. Until I saw you last night.”

You shook your head, getting up from the couch. You began to pace, trying to fathom what had just happened. The love of your life, the one that left you after promising to be your forever, was trying to justify leaving you heartbroken. Why couldn’t you be there by his side on this journey? Was his life so horrible that he needed to rid himself of any remnants of the past? Why were you not enough to make him stay?

“How could you leave me like that, Rafael? I cried over you for months, praying every night that you would change your mind and walk through that door. Now that you’re here, I can’t stand to look you in the face. You broke my heart, Rafael,” you sobbed.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks as well. All he managed to respond with was a simple, “I don’t know.”

Then it hit you. You couldn’t change the past. You couldn’t stop Rafael from walking out the door. It happened, but it was all over now. Like the beginning of a new year, this opportunity offered you both a fresh start. That didn’t mean you had to get engaged again and live happily ever after. It simply meant that you had to let go of the past and focus on the present.

You stopped your pacing and sat to face Rafael. He truly did look miserable, regretful. It hurt to see someone you loved in that state.

“What’s your new job like?” You asked, clearly to his dismay.

“I began working with a domestic violence activist group. They were searching for counsel to do the legal work and it felt like the right thing to do. I couldn’t stand being a prosecutor anymore; it was killing me.”

“So you didn’t have a midlife crisis and become a golf instructor?” You both laughed, which helped to clear the air.

“No, I just bought a sports car and a timeshare in Miami.”

“I don’t blame you, that’s exactly what I would have done.”

Silence fell once again. This time it was a peaceful, providing you both with a moment to breath.

“Are you still having your New Year’s Eve party?” Rafael asked.

“Of course. I missed it last year because of, well you know, and I wasn’t going to miss it again.”

“Does karaoke machine still work?”

“It’s new, better than ever. The best part is our song is still loaded on there. We should break it out tonight,” you offered, hoping he would stay for the party. He deserved to deliver the rest of your friends and family the same explanation he had just given you.

“Does that mean you want me to stay?”

“For the party. As for the future? That depends on what song you choose for your comeback solo,” you taunted.

“That’s a fair trade off,” Rafael smiled, grabbing your hand.

For a split second, everything felt right again.

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