#but I’ve managed to get back in a writing flow so hopefully I can keep it for a while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jreynoldsward · 2 years

Photo

The accountability posts march right along. Since this is the last Sunday of the month, it's the day to sit down and look at how well I did for the month.

The results were--surprising. The graphic above doesn't go into a lot of details, but the main point? The process of planning, reviewing, and contemplating the goals I had set for myself, and taking a hard look at what has kept me from accomplishing some of those goals seems to be paying off. In the January summary meeting, I could only identify four things that really got done that month. February, though a shorter month, had eight things that got completed.

Now, granted, the to-do list is shorter as well in January. However, the February list also benefited from further clarity in some areas; most specifically getting a workable, organized promotion process set up by creating a number of spreadsheets (well, all right, THREE spreadsheets) to help me keep track of various aspects of promotion and marketing. One tracks online interviews and reviews; another events (both sales and appearances), and a third is...oh, I don't know, I'd have to look it up but it's there (correction: I do know and it's sitting on my side desk. It's the monthly promotion plan, broken down by week, and it's printed out and tucked into my planner so that I can look at it, create graphics as needed, and check off to-dos).

One thing that has thrown me for a small loop is the whole AI kerfuffle. I have eleven short stories that I've had out on submission. At the moment, possible markets are either closed or else limiting submissions to once every three weeks after a rejection or acceptance. This somewhat causes problems with sending stories out to the top markets first, which is supposed to be best practice for submission protocols. It slows everything down, and...at this point, I'm having to change my regular submission day from once a week to once, maybe twice a month. And that is still problematic because rejections somewhat trickle in, bit-by-bit, and they don't necessarily fit MY schedule. One of the challenges in managing ADHD is being able to set things up in an organized fashion so that I am not extremely dependent upon a faulty executive functioning process (I had an entire tracking protocol set up for case management when I worked in special education) to remember when stuff is supposed to happen. So--push submissions days out to every two months? Only once a month? Set up yet ANOTHER spreadsheet (or connected sheet) to track WHEN I can send a story out to the next market? ARRRGH.

I haven't figured it out yet. I'm still struggling with how to make that work. Meanwhile, I'm just letting rejections flow back in. I created a folder in my email program which is labeled "Unprocessed Rejections" and am leaving it at that, until I figure out what to do next. Do I want to keep sending stories out, against a rising tide of AI competition? Wait and see what happens as magazines develop protocols to manage this new twist, just like they did when electronic submissions became dominant? While I'm becoming known (hopefully in a positive manner), I'm not sufficiently well-known that my name alone will get my foot in the door. Which means--still in the slush pile.

One possibility is that I use those short stories as Patreon rewards. Between those short stories and my previously printed stories, I probably have enough to last me for a while. Would I have enough subscribers to make a Patreon worthwhile? I don't know. I'm not encouraged by my Substack subscriptions, and those are freebies. At the moment, I'm still sticking to the goal of writing one short story a month. Right now, they're going to be reader magnets and worldbuilding tie-ins for my Goddess's Vision series. Which is still in development (sigh).

Why do I have this mental image of moving huge piles of laundry when I think about this? Because that's what a lot of what I am doing right now feels like. I have a lot of one-time organizing tasks to get done that, once I get them set up, will hopefully sustain themselves. But oh dear God, it's processing to get to that sustaining mode that is such the heavy load.

Nonetheless, things are working. I'm making regular book sales. Nothing huge, but enough to be encouraging. I'm making my way through a backlog of things that got shoved off when the cataract started acting up a year ago.

I have decided that I'm going to work on adding a 100% Human Produced branding to my work. I'll write more about this later, but my suspicion is that 100% human produced creative writing is going to become like handmade craft work. Perhaps I'll add in my handmade craft work as well--and oh do I want to get back to having time to sew and design craft work as well as write. It's just finding the damn time!

I'm using the new MacBookAir more. Right now, it's where I'm doing the formatting for reissued work in Vellum. I can sit in my recliner in the evenings and get some done.

Plus--this is only the second month that I've been doing this. I know from my teaching days that oh yes, I am so capable of putting together an organized plan. I have created scope and sequence lesson plans for entire years. But...sustaining that organizational work frequently fell by the wayside (well, I was training a horse, working special ed, managing some home stuff, and writing...lots of stuff on the plate and lots more chaos than my current life).

Will I be able to keep this up?

I hope to do so. But we shall see.

#writing accountability #writers life #writers of tumblr #writer organization

0 notes

michiieewrites · 4 years

Text

THORST COLLAB: Bakugou - Starving till I tasted you

A/N: First: IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, BEGONE FROM MY BLOG SINCE I WRITE MATURE CONTENT!! This one has been sitting in my documents for almost 2 months now. This week inspiration finally struck me once again tho!

This fic is actually a Thorst Collab between my lovely friends & I on Discord. I’m the first one to post mine, so I can’t wait to see what the others will write!

Now.

STRAP ON YOUR SEATBELTS CAUSE THIS MOTHERF!@#$%CKER IS 4.2K+ WORDS LONG

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

If someone told you a year ago that you would have enough money to pay off your student debt, buy your dream apartment, help out your family and friends, move abroad and drive in a ’67 Chevrolet Impala, you would’ve died laughing at the joke.

You told yourself it was stupid, buying that lottery ticket. But here you are; $100.000.000,- on your bank account. A young and now rich Omega in her prime. After making sure you had spend part of it wisely, you made sure to live the rest of your life on interest alone.

The first month had been nice. Decorating your new place, going out for dinner every day, getting a new wardrobe, spoiling yourself silly. You got new nesting materials, softer blankets and bigger pillows. It felt nice. Until it didn’t anymore. It started to feel pointless and empty. You felt like you were becoming one of those people that flaunt their money and that isn’t the type of Omega you are.

So here you are. Sitting in your peach colored dress and a numbered paddle in your hand. Tonight, you attend a charity auction. The charity was a rehabilitation program for criminals who want to get back on the right path.

The auction items aren’t exactly… items. They’re Pro Heroes. People could bid on having a date with some of the most desirable Pro Heroes, Alphas, Betas, Omegas, all of them. Even No. 1 hero Deku and No. 4 hero Red Riot are up for auction, both being Omegas.

One of the last dates are being auctioned and you realize you have been zoning out. Not having bid anything yet, you put up your paddle.

“Going once, going twice… SOLD TO NUMBER 917 FOR TONIGHT’S HIGHEST BID OF $300.000,-! A date with explosion pro hero Ground Zero!”

Oh lord. Yes! You got- wait… You got actually got it? You won a date with Pro Hero Ground Zero. Wasn’t he the one with the explosion quirk? Impressive power and always capturing the villains. What separates him from Deku is his social skills. Or lack thereof, to be more precise. Ground Zero isn’t really the type of hero to stick around the people he saved to see if they’re okay.

On top of all that he’s also an Alpha. Highly sought out by Omegas who want a pup, but not the Alpha. His genes are what people want, not the man himself. His personality also making it harder for people to approach him. And you just won a date with the most desired and aggressive Pro Hero Alpha there is.

“Oi!”

The voice behind you pulled you from your thoughts. The subtle scent of caramelized candy apples caught your attention. You turn around and find a handsome Alpha standing there. Arms crossed, cardinal red eyes watching you and his lips in an almost angry looking pout. This is the man you just bought yourself a date with.

“H-hi!” you manage to stammer out.

With a huff, he places a card on your table. You pick it up and see that it’s a business card from Ground Zero’s agency. At the bottom, writing in sleek handwriting, is a phone number. You look back up at him, ready to ask him why he gave this to you. But he’s already turning around and heading for the exit.

“Just contact me when you wanna plan that date things.”

And just like that, you had Ground Zero’s personal phone number.

~ A few days later ~

You’re sitting at a small booth, sipping on your matcha latte. You were a half hour too early, so you decided it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and order a drink before Bakugou would arrive. In his very first text he made it clear to call him ‘Bakugou’ and not by his hero name. He said that it would feel too much like an interview otherwise. In return you told him to just call you ‘Y/N’.

After some back and forth texting the last couple of days, you two agreed to meet up at a local coffee shop. Not a lot of people know about this shop. It’s small and the interior looks more like cozy living room than a flashy coffee shop. It was your favorite place to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee, tea or like right now, matcha latte.

Neither of you had any set plans for the rest of the day. Just kind of going with the flow seemed like the way to go. This would give you the freedom to hopefully have a quiet ‘date’. But you can’t really know that for sure when the person you’re on a date with is a Pro Hero.

The sound of the bell above the front door rings. You look up and see him walk in. Sitting all the way in the back, you can’t even smell him scent. Weren’t Alpha’s supposed to have very strong scents? Maybe he’s on suppressants?

He scans the shop, probably looking for you. His eyes land on you. He walks over and sits across from you. He leans back against the chair and swings his right arm over the arm rest while the left one is resting on the table. His eyes trail down from your face to the drink in your hands.

“I see you couldn’t wait for me to arrive,” he gruffly says.

“Uh-uhm, yeah. Sorry, I was super early. I hope you don’t mind.”

The silence that spreads between you two makes your Omega feel uncomfortable. Something doesn’t feel right and you’re starting to think that the Alpha in front of you truly doesn’t want to do any of this. So, to make it a little more bearable for yourself, you pump out a small amount of calming pheromones. Just to take the edge of this meeting.

Bakugou keeps looking at you. Until he finally picks up the menu card and says: “It’s fine. It’s your day, after all.”

He was right, you figured. But you still wanted him to have a pleasant time today too.

And so the day continues. The conversation isn’t very lengthy or deep. You discuss basic things like work, hobbies, favorite food. After a while the conversation kind of dies down. You suggest you two head out and into town. The man in front of you doesn’t seem overly thrilled about it, but still agrees.

When you go up to the front to pay, you hear him quickly walking up to you. He pulls your arm back. Surprised, you let out a small sound of shock and look up at him. A confused look is on his face and he pulls his hand away from you.

“The heck are you trying to do?”

Confused, you say: “Uh, paying?”

“I see that, but why? Omegas don’t pay when they’re with Alphas.”

Wow. At first you didn’t know how to respond to this remark. True, Omegas usually aren’t the ones paying on dates. In the past an Alpha would go out and hunt for their Omega. Since the hunting days are over and many Omegas work nowadays, treating them on dates are a way to show the Omega they can provide for them.

“Well,” you say as you hand over the money to the Beta barista behind the counter and thank him, “I don’t know about other Omegas, but I’m perfectly capable of paying for drinks too. I can provide just as well as any Alpha.”

You two walk outside and turn left to head into town. You’ve been meaning to go to the bookstore and hopefully find some new reading material. Two birds, one stone, right?

“Tsk, should’ve known a rich Omega like you doesn’t like to be told what to do,” Bakugou mumbles to himself.

You stop in your tracks. What? Was that really what he thought of you? A rich and snobby Omega?

Realizing you’re not walking beside him anymore, Bakugou turns around. Your head is bowed in shame. Normally your scent smells like peaches and hazelnuts, but now it turns into that of rotten fruit. You feel called out. For winning the lottery, for treating this Alpha to some drinks, for basically buying yourself a date with someone who clearly wishes to be anywhere else but here.

Your voice shakes, but you gather all your courage. “I’ll admit I was given a lot more financial freedom recently. And yes, I don’t like being told what to do. I believe everyone should be treated equally, regardless of their second gender. But I have never in my life asked for something. I was taught to work hard, to help people and to help and reward the people that help you.”

You pick up your head and look him straight in the eyes, politely smile and say: “I’m sorry you had to do this. This isn’t really how you planned your day would go. You can go, if you want to.”

As you pass him, determent to still go to the bookstore, you feel a weight being lifted from your heart. It really is unfair to the Alpha to make him go on a date with someone he doesn’t like. Deep down inside your Omega whines sadly. She recognized a good and safe provider in the Alpha, one who isn’t driven by hormones to just get an Omega pregnant. One who isn’t controlled their Alpha status. Too bad his Alpha isn’t interested in the Omega.

“Fuck, crap- wait! Shit!”

The cursing Alpha quickly catches up to you. He stops in front of you, holding up his hands to halt you. “Okay, fuck-just… let me explain.”

You cross your arms at him and wait for him to continue.

“Okay, so… Listen, I’ve been a real dick to you. Not just today, but basically since that charity event when I gave you my card. It was wrong of me assume anything about you. Shit Y/N, you’ve been nothing but nice to me. You don’t mind carrying the cost of a date, you’re not flaunting it around town that you’re spending time with a Pro Hero, you put up with my shitty responses and that isn’t how you should be treated. Or anyone for that matter! You deserve a proper date. So just, maybe I can make it up to you?”

By the end of his apology, Bakugou practically gives you angry puppy eyes in an attempt to ask for forgiveness. He reminds you of an angry Pomeranian. Smiling, you tell him that you forgive him. This day is supposed to be a fun one.

“But! You’ll have to carry the books I’ll buy as a punishment. And just so you know, I always come out with two shopping bags,” you tell him.

Bakugou just grins. “Fine. They’ll probably weigh nothing for me.”

Something in the air changes. A little sniff of your nose helps you identify the change. The scent coming from the Alpha next to you is slightly peaked. You heard that when an Alpha is preening their scents get stronger. You hardly think that’s the reason. Maybe it’s just because he’s in better mood now. Whatever the reason, you find yourself agreeing with your Omega; it’s a very nice scent.

~ An hour and a half later ~

“I’ve never met someone who spends over an hour inside a bookstore!”

“I told you when we came in that it could take a while,” you reply to Bakugou’s complaints.

“You do this with nesting stuff too? You know, blankets and shit,” he asks.

In both his hands, Bakugou is carrying a bag containing close to twenty books you can add to your bookcases back at home. Even underneath the sleeves of his hoodie you can see the muscles of his arms. He’s not as bulky as Pro Heroes Deku and Red Riot, but those muscles are pretty impressive. You bet your money that those thighs could squish a watermelon. You can practically feel the water filling your Omega’s mouth. She wants nothing more than to chomp down on those delicious shoulders. And honestly, you wouldn’t mind that either.

You remember you were asked a question. “I do. How else am I gonna know I made the right choice? All of those blankets and shit, as you put it, go in my nest. I’m at my best with a perfect nest.” A confident smile forms on your face and from the corner of your eye you can see Bakugou looking at you. A small smirk creeps up on his face.

While enjoying our little banter, you both failed to notice the Alpha towards the two of you. Until he opened his mouth. “I bet I can make your nest even better, little Omega.”

The other guy stops right in front of you, completely ignoring the Alpha next to you. You’re shocked and take a step back to create some distance between you again. But the guy doesn’t let up and steps closer again.

“No, now get lost,” you firmly say. This wasn’t the first Alpha-asshole you encountered.

“Awh, why the sour face, baby? Bet I’ll be more fun than the hedgehog here.”

“Oi, asshole! She said to get lost.” The smells of pheromones of two Alphas are dominating the air. The strongest one being the creepy guy, Bakugou’s not so much. You honestly confused on that point. With an Alpha as desirable as Bakugou, you truly expected a stronger scent.

You can’t help but release your own distressed scent. The tension is getting to you. Even other people noticed and are stopping to see how this plays out.

The creep briefly looks at Bakugou before returning his attention on you. “Come on, baby. Ditch this guy and then you and I can have our fun. What do you say?”

He extends his hand to put it on our waist and before you know it, you slap his hand away and punch him in the face. He stumbles back while cupping his now bleeding nose. Screaming in pain and shouting names at you. He’s beyond pissed; punched by a fucking Omega!

The adrenaline is pumping through you and every instinct in your body is telling you to run. Hide. Find an Alpha to protect you. You’re frozen on the spot. Your mind shutting down.

That’s when you feel a hand tugging you away. Your Omega recognizes the person this scent belongs to. Caramel candy apples. Bakugou.

You don’t know where he’s taking you. Your mind still processing things. All you know is to follow. ‘Cause he’ll lead to safety. Alphas keep Omegas safe. Follow. Safety. Alpha.

By the time you get to take in your surroundings, you realize you’re in an office. An office? What are you doing here? You look around and see a wooden desk with a black leather chair. A small bookcase, a closet and a couch with coffee table. A puffy black rug is covering the wooden floor, complimenting the one black wall behind you. The other walls are a tinted orange color.

The scent hanging in this office is… comforting. Soothing. Safe. You’re safe in here.

You’re seated on the couch. Wrapped in something soft. A blanket. A big, fluffy and soft blanket. The scent is even stronger on the blanket. You slowly inhale, imprinting this delicious mix of sweetness. After a couple seconds you finally notice the man next to you. Bakugou grins as he sees your focus shifting to him.

“I take it the blanket is approved,” he jokes.

You slowly nod. This small little cocoon makes you feel less vulnerable. Just like the presence of Bakugou next to you. It feels right. “Where are we?”

“Oh yeah, fuck. We’re at my agency. This is my office.”

You’re confused. “Your office? Why? I’m sorry, I kind of… froze. Can you tell me what happened afterwards?”

The smile that spreads on his face makes you feel funny inside. “What happened?! Y/N, you punched that fucker right in his fucking face! Shithead had it coming, tho. You just beat me to it. Omega or not, you know how to fight.”

You two look at each other and burst out laughing as you think back to that glorious moment. The creep definitely didn’t see your punch coming. It feels good to know the man next to you thinks you’re a decent fighter. He seems to actually be enjoying your company. Maybe he’s one of those people that are careful with who they get comfortable with. It feels good to know he feels like he can relax a bit more around you now.

You jokingly nudge him and say: “I bet I can even take you on, you big grump.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow is raised, grinning with his canines on display. “Prove it then.”

Knowing a challenge when you see one, you keep your eyes fixed on his cardinal ones and slowly lean in closer. Baring your neck to the side in submission to lure in his Alpha. Your Omega is very pleased by the motion. Just as he moves to lean in too, you throw the blanket in his face, grab his neck and shove him down on the ground. Stradling him and jabbing your elbow into his side, pressing your nails into the skin of his neck.

Smiling down at the man below you; “How’s that, Alpha?”

A short lived victory as he snarls and the two of you roll over, with Bakugou keeping you pinned underneath his weight. He may not look like it, but this man weighs a ton!

“If you’re trying to be a worthy opponent, why not call me by my first name? It’s ‘Katsuki’,” he breathes heavily atop of you.

Next to your ear you hear a low grumbling sound. Still seeing this as a playfight you laugh and reach back. Your fingers finding pressure points in his neck, making him let go of you. This gives you the chance to overpower him again and straddle him once more while holding his wrists above his head.

Victorious once again, you look down. Growling and teeth bared, the air around you growing thick. The smell surrounding you hits you like thunder. The caramelized candy apple scent overwhelming your senses. Your eyes travel down to his neck and see something you failed to notice before; gland patches. Patches to block someone’s scent from becoming too noticeable. That’s why the other Alpha smelled so much stronger. But now, now you’re drowning in it. You can pick up on rage, possessiveness and… arousal. As much as he’s growling and snarling at you, you know that he’s enjoying this too.

Chuckling at you, he cranes his neck. His face now closer to you than a moment ago. “I’m pretty sure I just got my ass handed by the most perfect Omega.” His words push through the alarm bells his instincts are sending off. His Alpha is not pleased about being pinned down. But as it takes in the Omega’s scent of peaches and hazelnuts, it can’t help but lie down and surrender itself to this tasty smelling Omega. An Omega that can fight back. An Omega that can hold him close. An Omega worthy of carrying his pups.

His Omega.

Before either can properly get out any words Bakugou has wrestled his hands free and grabs a hold of your hips while your hands pull his face closer and seal the distance between your lips. The taste of sugar coated apples is even stronger on his lips and you can’t get enough of it.

His fingers press deeply in your skin, kneading the flesh. His hips pushing upwards while holding you in place. The low rumbling sound in the back of his throat being accompanied by your mewling. You wanted more of him, your Omega needed more.

The Alpha makes his displeasure heard. You both part to breathe in fresh air. His lidded eyes are on fire and following every movement you make. Your hands slip down to his collarbones and settle on his shoulders. The path of your hands make Bakugou throw back his head. His body is pressing into yours desperately, like he has no control over it anymore. His growling increases in volume.

Through gritted teeth he manages to speak to you. “Fuck, Omega. What are you doing to me?”

Taking a leap of faith, you answer: “I don’t know. All I know right now is that I need capable Alpha to take care of me. Are you that Alpha, Katsuki?”

Before you can even blink, you’re being rolled over again. This time you’ll let him have his way. His hands are sliding their way up to your chest, grabbing the front of your shirt and tearing it apart. You try to protest, but you’re stopped by the warning growl of his Alpha. You lay back down and occupy yourself with running your fingers through his hair. Your gently massage making the Alpha let out a content sound.

Entranced by the man above you, you hardly even notice his onslaught on your clothes. And his own clothes. Getting those replaced will be a worry for later, your Omega decide. All you need to focus on right now is Katsuki. You want this Alpha to mate you and it needs to happen right now, or else your Omega just might perish on the spot.

That’s when you feel it. The hard and heavy feeling of his cock rutting itself against your core. Your body can’t help but react to it and release a good amount of slick. Katsuki’s mouth nipping along your collarbones as your bare you neck in submission. You feel his fangs graze your scent glands and you start to whimper desperately.

“Fuck, Y/N. Keep making those pretty noises,” Katsuki says.

“Yes, Alpha, yes. Just-ah shit! Just fuck me already!” you loudly exclaim.

Now who is Katsuki to deny such a nice plea from such a good Omega?

Wasting no time, he slides himself inside. The stretch making you cry out for more, deeper, more, anything he can give you. You just know you need more. Barely able to hold himself back from ramming himself inside and fucking you like you’re in a heat, he takes his time for your to fully take him in. A sigh of satisfaction leaves you both when he finally does.

Your legs wrap around his waist and try to pull him deeper in. Your fingers curl around his spikey locks and tug harshly to get him moving. Grunting, Katsuki finally complies. Being buried inside you sends him into over-drive. You feel too damn good around him. He feels too good inside you as he sets in a brutal rhythm. You’re pretty sure no other man could ever make you feel this good. No other Alpha could ever please your Omega ever again. Feeling his body slam into yours like his life depends on it is possibly the best feeling in the world. Your lungs are sending out a mix of his name, pleas for more, for him to go faster.

Katsuki can’t help it, he can’t stop himself anymore. He need to do this, he needs you, his Alpha needs to mate your Omega. Give her everything she wants and all that she’ll take. Only the best for his Omega, he will be worthy of giving her pups.

You can feel the base of his cock starting to inflate. His knot. His knot is growing. As soon as you notice, you start to claw at his back. A need filling you till the point you’re almost bursting.

“Alpha! Knot, please- Alpha, knot me- I need- Need your knot, Alpha!” you scream in desperation.

He wants to. Oh, he wants to so badly. But in the back of his mind there’s one braincell left that tells him that now is not the time nor the place. His Omega deserves better.

“You deserve better than to be knotted in my office, Y/N,” he moans, “please give me a chance to give you something better one day. I’ll be the best fucking Alpha there is!”

You love the sound of that. Something better. Somewhere in the future. A future with Katsuki. “Yes, Kastuki! Only you, you’re the only Alpha, please, I’m so cl-“

The moment he sinks his teeth into the flesh just above your collarbone, you’re send into a world of blinding lights and exploding fire. His name keeps falling from your lips. The waves of fire keep pulsing through your body.

The tight grip around him becomes too much for Katsuki. He needs to pull out or else he’ll knot you for sure. When he you keep chanting his name, he pulls out and covers you in thick, long, white streams of his cum. Covering you in his seed, marking you as his in an obscene, but beautiful way.

“Look at you, perfectly covered in my cum,” he pants.

You preen at the compliment. A content scent is released. The smell of a happily fucked Omega. Katsuki could get addicted to this smell.

With the shredded pieces of clothing he cleans you up. He pulls the blanket you discarded earlier over you both as he lies down next to you. Your tired and warm body cuddles closer to him. He drinks in your scent a you purr softly.

“What did you have the blanket for in your office?” you ask with a yawn.

Katsuki looks down at your half-asleep face. A smile forms on his lips as he gently kisses the top of your head.

“I kept it for my future mate.”

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha @thots4daze @hipster-merchant-of-death @aizawascumslut @strawbirb @ravenfeet222 @sailor-manga @yanderart @league-of-villians-headcanons

#bnha #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #alpha bakugou #alpha bakugou katsuki #alpha bakugou x reader #michiiee writes #bnha smut #bnha a/b/o #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #bakugou x reader #plus ultra #bakugou fic #bakugou smut

4K notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust: Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

249 notes · View notes

limonium-anemos · 3 years

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

thanks for the ask @bluesundaycake !!! 💖 also thank you @cauldroncake for the tag!! i gib u smooches

i'm not much of a writer lmao but here they are in random order:

as flowers bloom (hidden wip) / hp, tomarry, same age au

There was something quite ethereal in that moment.

And he thinks, oh.

- started writing this wip back in june 2020; was supposed to be a hanahaki au, managed to write a draft until chapter 4 but i got so lost with it. it's a fave because this was the first work i've tried writing in a linear manner, with an outline and a plan (i'm more of a pantser) and went all out with descriptive writing. i was so happy with the feedback when i posted it. hopefully i can get back to it and rewrite 🌟

they will burn (oneshot) / hp, tomarry, soulmate au, fem!harry

(Fire. A blaze steadily rising, a fervent whisper of—)

(–I know you.)

Harry suspected it within the week of keeping the diary. This Tom Riddle, Slytherin Prefect and Head Boy, too smart and too charming—

“You’re my soulmate.” she says.

And he is.

And you are mine, he knows.

- my first tomarry fic lmao; the amount of hits and kudos christ sdgasd i did not expect it at all??? i always reread this and try to remember like, wow there's something in here people like??? so whenever i end up with a new wip/idea i look at this fic and remind myself “you did great before!!! you’ll do well!!” while also lowkey suffering from too many ideas he he ehhe

we rattle this town, we rattle this scene (oneshot) / snk, ereri, modern setting

“You might’ve said no.” Levi says.

Eren scoffs.

“We’ve been dating, like, since high school Levi.”

- this fic was probably my first fluff??? fic?? idk i dont remember anymore. i wrote this back in 2017 while i was (procrastinating) studying for board exams lmao. this was practice for dialogue and i’m pretty happy about it?? my goal was to practice transition from one character to another and idk i think it kinda worked ashgdhasd

i remember printing out fic chapters from a couple of other snk fics, highlighting sections and lines of dialogue i really admire and loved!! and said i should try that

cam u kiss me (wip) / hp, tomarry, gamer au

"I'd say it was a pleasure, but—" TM started to say.

aintnosnitch Today at 1:28AM

get rekt u grimy peanut we won so fuck off

Online games, boys and hopefully, a goddamn kiss.

- writing this fic was...something...an experience...this was the first fic i ever had a beta? ??? (actually seagate didnt need to look this over but she did) and let me tell u like, i learned a lot ashdgasj i’ve never had someone look over my writing while im still writing it, and giving suggestions and pointing things out. this wouldnt come out as it is without help lmao. i would write a sentence and seagate would make it flow better; i translate my thoughts and seagate made sure it isnt whack (english is not my first language), checked that my tenses isn’t all over the place, that i dont get lost with characterization etc

would i get a beta again? probably. i’ll make sure to finish a draft first before letting them look it over 😄

dizzy on the comedown (oneshot) / hp, tomarry, same age au, fluff

Tom and Harry visit Hogwarts after the war.

- this is all my fluff powers!!! all of it!!!! i love the comments in this fic!!! instant smile on my face!! im just assuming the people who read this just went uwu and somft and squish 🤣

but also lmao, this fic was stressful to write! i remember struggling to finish this since this fic was pure “pantser“ fic. there is so much to improve on this one; i don’t think it’s my best writing but also not the worst??? idk it’s a so-so for me but im happy that people like it, so thank you!!!

again thank you for the tag and ask (pahn and dia)! tagging these lovely writers too!! (no pressure!)

@riddleandpottersittinginatree @cardio-vore @mishqua @phoenixmaiden-writing @literaryavalanche @hikarimeroperiddle @vestiges-of-light @penmanner @azuredreammira @exarite @vanillaghost @immxrtalbi @circleofplanets @marvolord @greenbriars @isleoffanfiction @childotkw

#tomarry #harrymort #tag meme #hp #replies

21 notes · View notes

bucky-barnes-diaries · 3 years

Text

Away From Home

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Captain America: The First Avenger

Pairing: 1940s! Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are half a world apart. How are they holding up without each other? ft. some love letters!

Word Count: 1644

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, hint of smut, angst, talk about war, mention of suicide. Please read at your own risk!

Authors Note: Just want to thank my beautiful wife @buckybarnesdiaries for hyping me up with this series! Not everything may be accurate to the 1940s, war or Bucky’s story. My apologies! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

It wasn’t easy being all alone without your other half, but you managed to fill up your day with fun and responsibilities to take your mind off it. The women at the office missed their husbands immensely, just like yourself, so it was good that you all took comfort in one another. It was good to talk with them about the shared feelings of fear and uncertainty that came with the men going off to war.

The office work that was ordinarily boring to you became very interesting as your bosses ordered you around. At home, you had organized your various pieces of literature more times than what was necessary. You couldn’t either count how many times you’ve gone “I missed a spot” on the kitchen counter when it was nothing there in reality.

When there was nothing at home to do, you called up your girlfriends, hoping they would be willing to go out on the town. The few times they were up for it, you forgot all about the hurt inside as you danced the night away with your best friends.

Bucky's parents could come and go as they pleased. Your house was their house; whenever they wanted to drop by, they could. On the weekends, they would invite you home to their residence for dinner and drinks. It was sweet of them to ask you. You already had a strong relationship with them that only increased with you spending more time with your parents-in-law.

The stories they would tell you about James growing up in Indiana with his siblings were stored in your memories to use late at night when you couldn’t sleep. Those thoughts would turn into dreams and scenarios of him and your child that you would hopefully get pregnant with soon.

On the few occasions his parents and your girlfriends had other plans, you sat mostly inside staring at one spot on the wall. The book by your side would only be read a few pages before it was placed to the side again so you could continue gawking at the flower patterns on the wall.

That’s how you were sat now. The television was on, but you weren’t paying attention to the boring movie you had watched countless times playing on the screen. You decided that you would write another letter to James. Writing letters to your husband and receiving letters from him was the thing that brought you joy and was the closest you could come to him for the time being. Picking up the pen and paper, the words flowed easily as you wrote.

~~~~~~~~~~

My Dearest,

I feel I must write you again altho there is not much news to tell you from the last time I wrote. Work is keeping me busy, while your parents’ comfort and the fun my girlfriends are bringing keeps me content. I dreamt last night my husband. I dreamt about a child. Our child. A child that will bring us love and joy in the future.

I miss you terribly, my love. I miss the warmth from your touch as we are tangled in the sheets together. I miss the softness of your voice as the words whispered in my ear are meant for me only. I miss your laugh filling up the house that feels so empty now without you. I miss you. There is nothing more that I desire in life but to have you with me constantly.

I wonder how you are getting along, my love. I shall be so relieved to get a letter from you. I can’t help feeling a bit anxious for you, my dear. Thinking about what you are going through in the gruesome war overseas. I pray to whatever higher power exists for you to survive and come home to me in my arms.

Well, my husband, my brave soldier, I don’t know what more to say now, so I will finish this letter with fondest love and kisses from your wife.

I love you the most. From yours truly,

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

You sealed up the envelope containing your love letter for your husband, your other half, your soul mate, and hoped that it would bring him a hint of delight in his usual dark, empty and deadly war days.

Somewhere in hostile Germany…

With barely enough sleep from the night before, Bucky rested his eyes for the few minutes they had before it was out on another day of fighting the opposition. The faint sound of bombs dropping was heard in the distance. His heart started pumping in both fear and excitement to be out there again.

As his eyes were closed, he sat and wondered what his wife was up to at the moment. You were most likely at work. What would you have for dinner later? Something good, he hoped. It would at least be ten times better than what he ate for breakfast, soggy bread with a slice of cheese on top.

His mouth watered at the thought of a homemade meal from you right now. You always made the tastiest and fulfilling dinners.

What were you doing after? Out with your girlfriends? Were his parents coming to visit? Either way, he hoped you had the most beautiful time being as carefree as you always were.

When the darkness came, and it was time for bed, what would you be doing? Had the day been exhausting that you dropped dead on the covers as soon your head hit the pillow, or would you stay up and think about him?

His mind started racing to you, touching yourself dead at night while you remembered the last time the two of you were intimate. The thought about you moaning his name so softly and innocently had him adjusting himself in the seat.

Not now, Buck. We have to leave soon. There’s no time for that now.

“BARNES! Post for you.”

Once he had the letter in hand, he immediately knew it was you from the little drawing you drew on the envelope. You always did some form of artwork on it that had his heart warm up.

A single tear ran down his cheek after finishing the heartwarming letter. He could never fully express to you and his parents how these letters had saved him when he needed it the most. When he had thought about ending it all after watching the inhumane things he had witnessed that no human should ever have to see, the pieces of love from you and his family were what kept him going.

There was still some time left before they had to go out to war again. So he took that chance at writing a reply to his wife.

~~~~~~~~~~

My Darling,

Thank you for the heartwarming letter. It found me well in the time when I needed it the most. I so long to be close to you. Trust my love that I do not forget you. I am doing everything in my power so that these few lines reach you.

I am happy to hear that you are keeping yourself busy with work, friends, and family. I’m jealous.

I miss you terribly, my love. If only we could be together soon. I’d give anything to be back in the comfort of your arms. To be tangled in the sheets together. To feel you wrapped so tightly around me in all the ways possible. To hear your laugh that fills my heart with warmth and butterflies. Soon my love, soon.

A child? I’ll give you as many children as you want when I return safely to you. We will buy a big house out in the countryside to raise our children and grow old if that’s what my wife desires.

The war? I don’t know what there is to say? I won’t sugarcoat it. The war is brutal and gruesome. It is something I don’t even wish upon my worst enemy to experience the things I’ve seen and gone through. Don’t be alarmed, my love, by the words you just read. As long as I have you in my mind, I can make it through the days and nights.

There is not much more for the time being to write to you. Just know that I am coming back to you after the terrible war is over.

I love you the most. From your brave soldier,

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

He sealed it up in an envelope, and he once again hoped that this wouldn’t be the last letter he ever wrote to you.

A few weeks later…

You waited anxiously out on the steps of your home for the postman to arrive. Legs were bouncing up and down in anticipation if today was the day a new letter from James would arrive.

“Morning, ma’am,” the postman nodded at you. By now, he knew very well who you were as he would find you most days waiting for him to bring you the mail.

“I believe this is yours.” He handed you a single letter. A smile on his face once he saw the excitement on yours when you realize it was from your husband.

“Thank you, George.”

“Have a wonderful day, Y/N.” “You too.”

You opened it right there on the steps. There was no time to walk a few meters into the house to read it.

You took the time to read the lines on the paper written by your love. Sadness came over you as you read the part about war, but a smile was left on your lips nonetheless after you had read the whole thing a few times over.

You clutched it to your heart. To try and feel that extra bit of love that radiated off it. A few tears rolled down your cheeks.

Soon my love. Soon you will be back safe and sound in my arms again.

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

Thank you for reading <3 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!

If you are going to join the taglist please show support in following my blog as well!

Marvel Taglist: @whothehellisbuckybarnes @phoenixhalliwell @x-goddess-of-nature-x @trulysuccubus @skyesthebomb @whoreforsamwilson @natashadeservedbetter @beth-winchester21 @mrs-salvawhore @soldierstucky @missswritings @sariche @claudiaatje @myakai13 @paintballkid711 @ttalisa @teti-menchon0604 @J-e-nster @-im-fantastic- @donut-crazs @tatestripedsweater @feetoffthetablee @uraesthete @mae-black @midnightdragonzero @julia2000love @yvngzxx @midnightzonzz @kaystacks17 @missroro @living-that-best-life @alwaysclassyeagle

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @sirrwritesalots @acciosiriusblack @academiawhoree @feescher @cigarettesonmars @doyoumindifislytherin-1 @yippikaiyaymotherfucker @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @hemsbucky @ripredwing @90smalfoys @rosiebrands @falcvns @jazzseb11 @my-patronus-is-a-raptor @milkshakelol @maddnastyyyyy @obxcalm @poetic-heart

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

If your name is in bold it means I can’t tag you for some reason. My apologies!

208 notes · View notes

aiekerman · 4 years

Text

Easy - Eren Jaeger

Eren Jaeger x Reader - fluff, college!au

AN - If you saw me post this before, no you didn’t. But in actuality it is a repost I just changed it to second person oops. But anyway, hopefully anyone who sees it for the second time likes it again lol.

(A part 2 and/or prequel does exist for this in my brain if anyone was ever interested!)

Song vibes: Easy by Troye Sivan ft. Kasey Musgraves

Summary - Just a pair of friends that definitely do not like each other. But leave their rooms at midnight for each other with no hesitation, and know each other’s food orders, and are low-key affectionate with each other. A pair of friends.

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

Y/N: Hey :)

Eren drags his head out of his textbook as his phone goes off. Pushing stray hairs back off his forehead and out of his eyes. His tired eyes lit slightly at the sight of your name. His fingers quickly replying

Eren: Hey u

He glances at the time, 12.03 am, he frowns, worried whyyou were awake so late. Three bubbles appear on his screen as he waits for your reply to arrive.

Y/N: U up?

Eren: I’m texting u back aren’t I?

Her reply takes slightly longer this time, and his mouth crooks up at the side, picturing the eye roll you were most definitely doing.

Y/N: Shut up

You know what I mean

Eren: Yeah I’m up

Last minute studying

He pulls the phone from its charger and leans back in his chair, one foot against the desk leg and swinging back slightly. You take a little longer to reply and his eyes drift to the top of the screen where your contact picture is. His mouth betrays him again and a smile ghosts over it.

The picture is simple. A candid of you sat proudly in front of a sandcastle you were making at the beach during spring break. Your legs splayed either side of it, covered in sand. You were smiling up at someone, probably Sasha, your hair a wavy, salty mess, blowing in the sea breeze.

Your reply finally comes, vibrating the phone in his hand and dragging him from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes at your message.

Y/N: Midnight Taco Bell run? :)

Eren: Have you been smoking?

Y/N: No I just also happen to be doing midnight work and have a craving

His fingers move to reply before another message comes through, very quickly, and he pauses.

Y/N: And I miss your dumb face

Eren: You mean my pretty face?

Y/N: I change my mind I’m asking Jean

Eren: Shut up I’m getting ready now

Y/N: :))

Eren chucks the phone over to his bed, staring at his textbook for a second. He knows he should keep studying, or better yet, go to bed. But he misses you too. He stands from the seat and shuffles around his room, quietly as possible. Armin was definitely asleep and would definitely make a dumb comment about Eren being whipped for someone he wasn’t even dating.

Eren brushes off the thought and pulls his sneakers on, swaps his gym shorts for sweatpants and scrapes his hair back into the best bun he can manage.

After wandering out of his room he grabs his keys and wallet from by the door and shuts it over with the quietest click he can manage.

On his walk to his car he sends one more text.

Eren: Getting in the car now

Eren: I’ll be like 10 mins

Y/N: I’ll be the cute one in pyjamas ;)

He laughs at the flirtatious message before switching on his car and driving off.

His mind doubles back to what would be Armin’s comments on the situation. They weren’t dating, but flirting between friends was entirely normal. He shakes off feeling the need to justify his relationship with you. You were friends, best friends. That almost hooked up once. The first time you met. But now you were just friends.

Before he even realises it he’s pulling up at the kerb by your building, his eyes glancing up to the door and watching a shadowy figure emerge. His head leans back against the headrest when her form comes into the dim street lights.

You’re dressed the same as him, sweatpants hugging your hips and an oversized hoodie drowning your top half. He squints for a second, was that his hoodie? Nah, it probably wasn’t, you had similar taste in hoodies anyway. You push the hood back when you reach the car, a mess of hair tumbling out around your face. It resembled a bedhead, but he knew you well enough to conclude you’d been sleepily running hands through it all night to make the mess. Tugging at the roots in efforts to stay focused on whatever it was you were working on.

You tug the door open and pull yourself into the seat. Situating yourself before turning to him and pushing your glasses up her nose, foregoing contacts at this hour, ‘Hi.’

He smiles down at your smaller form, ‘Hey you.’

‘Let’s get going.’

He raises an eyebrow at you, watching you slide down in the seat. Your eyes are wide as you stare back, ‘What?’

‘Seatbelt.’

You roll your eyes and push yourself back up, reaching for the seatbelt, ‘Yes, mother.’

Hearing the belt click in place he pulls off, satisfied with your safety being secured.

You grab his phone from the cupholder, and push it under his face slightly, not obstructing his view but close enough for him to give it a quick glance and unlock his face ID for you. You start scrolling spotify and find your combined playlist, made with midnight food runs in mind. RnB starts flowing out of his speakers.

Dropping the phone back in the cupholder you turn to look at his profile, ‘So what you been studying for?’

‘Psychology final, not until next week but after I kinda bombed the midterm I don’t wanna be caught off guard. You?’

‘Final project is due in two weeks. I’ve kinda got it finished but I’m not sure.’

He smiles, knowing you were just being a perfectionist about it.

‘Am I gonna get to read it?’

‘Why do you want to?’ You laugh at him, looking over at his profile that was focused on the road ahead, but seeing his lip was pulled up in a smirk.

‘Cause you haven’t shut up about it all year, I wanna know if all the support snacks I’ve bought you have been worth it.’

You scrunch up your face and shove it down into the hoodie you were adorned in. It smelt like Eren. Wait, was this his hoodie?

‘Huh, nothing to say back?’ His grin is too smug as he steals a look at you. You glare up at him, ‘Shut up.’

Silence settles over you in the last minutes before you approach the destination. You push yourself up to sit when the glowing sign comes into view, your eyes lighting up again.

‘Drive thru or sit in?’ Eren questions, approaching slowly as he waits for an answer.

‘Sit in, please.’ He nods before swinging into a parking spot.

You both jump out and Eren rounds the car to your side, bumping you with his hip in greeting now you were out of the car. His hands are stuffed in his pockets but you grab hold of his sweatshirt sleeve gently as you start joking about how you had to sneak out without setting off Sasha’s food radar.

Inside you bounce ahead of him slightly, up to one of the self serve screens and start ordering. He smiles softly at how you had to shuffle the too-long hoodie sleeve up to let your hand emerge.

He comes behind you and places his chin on top of your head, watching as you confidently tapped at the different items.

‘You haven’t asked what I wanted yet.’

‘I know your Taco Bell order, idiot.’

‘Maybe I want something different this time.’

‘No you don’t.’

The screen goes black for a second while loading the checkout and he glances at your reflection. You push your glasses up your nose, looking up and sticking your tongue out at him when you see his eyes already on you.

He smiles before ruffling at your already messy hair and standing back to pull out his wallet. Glancing up, he catches you doing the same and suddenly moves quicker, as do you. Whipping out his bank card and reaching around you to tap it on the terminal, the familiar beep of a successful transaction going off before you can push your card in the bottom slot.

Eren grins in triumph while you stuff your wallet back in the hoodie and grumble, ‘Stupid contactless card.’

You pull the receipt from the machine while he walks over towards a booth, dropping into the seat and stretching his legs out while watching you.

Your hands are shoved into the hoodie, you sway and shuffle around on you feet. Standing still was never one of your strong suits.

A smile takes over Eren’s face as you yawn and rubs at your eyes, pulling the hood up over your head and pulling at the strings slightly. He chuckles at the image of your head being swallowed. You turn at the sound and frown at him, mouthing out ‘don’t laugh at me.’ Prompting his laughter to continue on.

He settles back in the booth when their number is called and you wander up to accept the tray of food.

Dropping yourself down across from him, the two of you automatically begin splitting out their food, almost instinctively knowing which packages were for who; Eren always had the nachos, you never deviated from fries.

You ate in silence for just a moment before you pick up conversation again, ‘Are you gonna go to Jean’s party after finals?’

‘So bold of you to assume Jean could pull off a decent party without me.’ He smiled, stuffing a bite of his burrito in his mouth as you giggle. ‘What about you?’

‘I mean yeah probably, if everyone else is going.’

‘Well, Jean has got me and Connie roped in to help with set up, so Connie will make Sasha go, and Sasha will make Mikasa go, who will make Armin go, who will make sure I don’t flake off early and I’ll make sure you stay.’

‘Connie and I.’ You correct, reaching for your drink.

‘Shut up.’

‘Also, Eren Jaeger flaking early from a party is wholeheartedly unheard of.’

‘I left the last one early because someone needed to be walked home after throwing up.’

You pause with the straw at your mouth, eyes narrowing in a glare.

‘You can’t get too messy this time anyway. Bertolt is gonna be there.’

You scrunch up your face in confusion, ‘Why’d you say his name like that.’

‘Because, you haven’t got laid since spring break, he’s cute and you said you guys have gotten super close from your fiction writing class.’

You roll your eyes at the tall boy’s explanation and shrug, ‘He’s kinda cute. I guess. And we haven’t gotten super close, we barely knew each other before the class.’

‘Exactly, he’s at perfect arm’s length for a hook up. You deserve it after all the stressing you’ve done this semester.’

You shrug again. Setting your drink back on the table and leaning back, your feet stretching out to bump against Eren’s, you think about it.

Eren watches you, yourr eyes staring out into space. Bertolt was cute, he didn’t get around that much from what Eren had heard of the boy, but he was sweet enough that he knew he could trust him with you, even just for a night.

But even as he looked you over, dark circles beginning to shadow under your eyes, figure swamped in your loungewear and hot sauce staining one edge of your mouth. You were way out of Bertolt’s league.

‘You’re probably way too good for him anyway.’

‘Even just for a hookup?’ Your eyes meet his green ones, your mouth showing a teasing smile starting to form.

He stuffs more burrito in his mouth and nods.

‘You think I’m too good for everyone.’

He swallows and reaches for his drink, ‘cause you are.’

‘Was I too good for you, is that why you didn’t have sex with me?’ You start grinning and laughing as he chokes on his drink. He leans an elbow on the table as he coughs, glaring at you through his lashes.

Eren sticks a hand out at you and gestures for you to cough it up. You pull a dollar from your wallet and stuffs it in his hand.

He imagines it’s the same dollar he gave you last week after he joked about your almost hook up. The metaphorical ‘don’t talk about the time we almost had sex’ jar was essentially the same dollar passed back and forth.

‘Was that one worth it?’ He raises an eyebrow at your giggling face as you reaches to open your crunchwrap, nodding in a satisfied manner.

You hold the hexagonal taco in your small hands and Eren chuckles. You eye him, taking your first bite and speaking out a muffled, ‘What?’

‘Your tiny hands always make those things look huge.’

‘Maybe your meaty boy’s hands just make it look small.’

He sticks a hand out in front of you, palm spread out to show the full size, ‘My hands are not meaty. And they’re no bigger than average.’

‘What are you talking about?’ You mirror him, lifting your hand to press a palm against his, the tips of your fingers just brushing above the second knuckle.

‘Your hands are just tiny.’

‘No, they only look small because yours are huge.’

You both fall silent, two sets of eyes trained on your pressed together hands. Eren ignores the feel of his heart pounding up against his chest.

What was wrong? They’d held hands before?

The ring of your phone blaring out an alarm drew both of them from the trance. Eren slid his fingers to interlock with your’s, playfully pushing your hand back towards your body.

‘Who’s calling you at this hour?’

‘No one, I, uh, I set an alarm for one thirty am. Otherwise we’d sit here all night, knowing the two of us.’

He lets out a small laugh, nods in agreement and starts to gather up your trash. His eyes run over your face just before standing, choosing not to make fun of the blush gracing your cheeks.

You stand and fall in stride next to him, bumping his hips with your own and poking his side, ‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Got your eye on anyone for Jean’s party?’

‘Nah, I’d rather just chill. I’ll probably spend half the night making sure Jean stays relatively sober for his own party.’ You laugh at the idea, nodding your head fervently. Jean usually ended up the messiest of the bunch.

The exit into the cold night air, and your body is immediately taken over with shivers. Eren rolls his eyes but loops an arm around your shoulder, his own body a constant furnace. You hum in appreciation, leaning into his side as he rubs at your arm.

Climbing into the car, he blasts the heat. This time you pull on your seatbelt with no need for prompting, your head turning to stare up at him, the raise of her eyebrows translating to You happy?

He stays quiet, pulling on a cheesy grin that answers back, Very.

You flop back into your seat, a yawn overtaking you and the heat of the car soothing you The effort to keep your eyes open immediately doubled.

‘You can close your eyes. I’ll wake you when we get to your building.’

You look at him with a sorry expression, ‘But I dragged you out I shouldn’t-’

‘Sleep, idiot,’ he cuts you off, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to run over your hair, long fingers running through it. Always a surefire way to make you sleepy.

You drift off quickly, a smile softly laid on your cheeks.

Eren feels his heart beating hard once again. He swallows it down. Focuses on the road. Just friends was easier.

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot x reader #eren fluff #eren jaeger fluff #snk x reader #snk imagines #eren fic #eren jeager fluff #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger fic #eren jeager fic

339 notes · View notes

tobiotetsu · 3 years

Text

the lovers

reversed (prequel)

chapter two: ten of cups

miya atsumu x f!reader

description: the lovers card was a blessing in tarot if pulled up right, with the meaning of true love, prosperity and unity. however, if pulled in reversed, it signified disappointment, foolishness and failure. if he was destined to be your soulmate, why was his presence accompanied by chaos and destruction? if miya atsumu was your fatal flaw, how could he possibly be your fate?

genre: soulmate au, 18+, angst, enimes-to-lovers

cw: family issues, mentions of death, grammar errors

a/n: SO excited to write the next chp!! feedback & reblogs are truly appreciated<3 (wc: 4.4k)

prequel masterlist ♕ chp three

From the outside, the Miya’s were a very well-known family with a prestigious family. Miya Kaito was a well-known businessman in Japan who took over his father’s Marketing company. Miya Izumi, the twins’ mother was much lesser known than their father but was still in the public eye. She was an author of a best-selling novel who lived in Sendai but moved to Kasai when she married Kaito. They had two twin sons who excelled in volleyball and were sure to go professional straight after high school.

They were picture-perfect. But to your eyes, they were everything but.

Atsumu’s prediction of his father's absence at dinner two weeks ago had turned out to be correct. You, Osamu and his mother had waited at the table for almost 40 minutes before coming to the conclusion that once again, he was not coming home.

The lavish mansion was a veil for a broken home.

A father who worked more than he saw his family, a mother who went on trips weekly to resorts to escape her life and two children who had to suffer at the hands of their parents’ actions.

You couldn’t help but think of their family dynamic as you were in the kitchen scouring through the fridge for breakfast, a day before your 18th birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Miya weren’t soulmates but they seemed like they didn’t even like each other. It seemed like their public reputation was the only thing keeping them together.

That was the last thing that you wanted with your soulmate. You were less than 24 hours away from turning eighteen and you couldn’t help but think about who they might be.

Do they live in the Huygo prefecture? Are they the same age as you? Are they kind? A romantic? Were they just as excited to know your identity? Would we have a physical or emotional connection?

Questions like these ran through your mind ever since you woke up.

Usually, your breakfasts were something solid to fuel you for the rest of the day, but you were so nervous for tomorrow that you could barely keep anything down. You decide that some fruit would be enough for now. You stack clear contains which green grapes, strawberries and cherries in one arm as you use your free one to close the fridge door.

Maybe they’re in California? You’d meet them there when studying for school perhaps?

The questions continued to flow as you sat down at the counter in the kitchen on a bar stool as you munched on the grapes. You were so wrapped up in your questions that you barely even noticed that someone had walked in.

You almost choke on the grape when you realize who she was. It was the same girl who was making out with Atsumu in the cafeteria two weeks ago. She also must have been the owner of those over-exaggerated moans that still made you sick to your stomach.

Even though you took a while to acknowledge her, she still hadn’t noticed you. Confused laced your eyes are you stare at her half-naked figure opening the fridge in front of you. The only thing covering her was a large white button shirt with two buttons together at her chest, which you assumed was Atsumu’s.

As you were studying her in slight disgust, she finally noticed your presence.

“Oh hi, I’m Yui,” she said as she tucked her dirty blonde hair behind her hair.

“Yeah, I know, we’re in the same calculus class,” you say before you place mother grape in your mouth. Judging by her reaction to your words, she hadn’t even acknowledged you, but you couldn’t care less.

She stood there in a slight shock before hesitantly speaking again.

“So, are you dating ‘Samu?” she asked as she leaned her body on the side of the fridge door. Her words caused you to choke on the grape that laid on your tongue.

“Samu? No!” You manage to squeak out between your violent coughs. “He’s just my friend”

She seems to be confused by your statement. You never had thought about Osamu in that way and you weren’t sure why she would think that.

“Well, then why are you around here all the time?” Now it was your turn to look confused at her words.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow as you reply.

“You were the one who knocked on Atsumu’s door, right? The one he called princess?” she said as she crossed her arms in front of her half-exposed chest.

Ah, now you understood. Was she jealous?

“Yeah, I was.” your tone changes as your patience was slowly seeping through your fingers like grains of sand.

She nodded her head before stepping closer to the opposite of the table. “‘Tsumu’s mine, so don’t come around here anymore if it's for him.” she spits out with a grin as if she had accomplished something.

You take a moment to respond to her. In one swift movement, you stand from your stool and start to close the container of grapes in front of you.

“One, I live here, I’ve been living here since I was 6,” you said as you snapped the containers louder than you usually did. “Two, the last thing I want is to be around Atsumu.”

You gather the containers and make your way in front of Yui. She said nothing as she stood and watched you place the fruits back into its assigned tray.

“And three, he’s not yours. You’ll be gone by the end of the week, sweetheart.” that was the last thing you said to her as you exited the kitchen. You didn’t stick around the see her jaw hang slack, appalled at the words that came out of your mouth.

You knew she attacked you because of Atsumu but was she that oblivious that she couldn’t see what laid between the two of you?

pure annoyance and animosity

“The audacity!” Stephanie exclaimed as you retold the events from this morning as you two sat outside the school waiting for the boys' volleyball practice to conclude.

“I don’t even want to think about it anymore, it gives me a headache.” you shook your head to the side as you try to forget the whole meeting. “Thanks again for giving me a ride today too, Steph.”

Your usual ride had to stay later than usual to make up his missed chemistry test and you rather walk the 30 mins than ask Atsumu to join him home. Stephanie was more than happy to drive you home after akaashi came out from practice. Because of Mara’s feelings for Atsumu, you never felt comfortable discussing him with her. You didn’t want her to feel bad for liking someone she despised. One can not control whom they love, so you spared her feelings and confided in Stephanie when it came to Atsumu.

“Don’t mention it!” she said as a smile pulled at her lips. “You excited for tomorrow? Finally going to be 18 and find your person!”

Your birthday completely slipped your mind as you focused on the Yui situation.

“I’m so nervous! hopefully, I can find him,” you said as you looked down at your hands. Stephanie could recognize your worry and placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Try not to worry y/n. You’ll find them. I remember the same feeling right before my birthday. The anxiety was eating at my soul but, in the end, everything was perfect. It’ll be like that for you too.” She empathized.

Akaashi and her were your only pair of soulmates to admire; They were the only two you knew. Your parents were also soulmates but you couldn’t see their love blossom due to his passing. You saw how much your mother loved and grieved him, but you weren’t old enough at the time to remember him loving her as much.

“I think they’re done,” Stephanie said as she held her hand. “I felt his signal.”

Akaashi and her shared physical touch. If in 500 meters of her, whatever Akaashi felt physically, so would Stephanie.

And as if it was timed, right after her statement the team came through the school's entrance doors.

“Hey!” Akaashi said as he waived at the two of you. He situated himself right behind his girlfriend. He muttered a small ‘hello’ as he kissed the top of her head and held her hand and rubbed small circles with his thumb against the back of it.

so that must have been their signal.

You could only wish your soulmate was as kind and loving as Akaashi.

You unknowingly stare at the couple in front of you as your phone starts to ring with your mother's picture displayed on the screen.

“Hi, mom” you answer.

“y/n! I need you to run to the store for me. I forgot a few ingredients for dinner today, could you get Osamu to drive you to the market?” Your mother said urgently.

“Uh, I would but ‘Samu’s taking a test right now, he won't be done any time soon.”

“Then can you ask Atsumu to take you?” Her words made you cringe at the thought of being in such close proximity to him for that long.

“Mom, I-” but before you could finish your refusal she interrupts.

“Please, y/n. I’m desperate.” she pleaded.

You wanted to protest. You wanted to tell her that going with Atsumu would be impossible, that he wouldn’t even take you in the first place but then you remembered how hard she works. She worked this hard for you, so this was the least you could do for her.

“Okay, I’ll ask him,” you say in a slightly sombre tone as you accept your defeat.

“Thank you!! I’ll send you the list, love you!” those were the last words you heard before she hung up.

“Ready to go?” Stephanie asked as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

“Change of plans. You guys go without me, I gotta find Atsumu.” Both their faces synchronously scrunched together in confusion.

“Are you going to be okay?” akaashi asked, clearly concerned.

You vigorously nod your head and send them on their way, thanking them for offering the ride home.

A deep sigh escapes your mouth as you make your way inside the school to find Atsumu. Luckily, or unluckily, you found him immediately standing at his locker as he was laughing at something Suna said.

You debated turning back twice but decided to suck it up. With strong strides, you walk up to Atsumu’s figure.

“Atsumu” even though you aimed for your voice to come off strong, even you could hear the strain in it.

He wore his usual volleyball attire, identical to Osamu. White joggers with a vertical black stripe doing down the side of each leg accompanied by a black t-shirt, which clung to his body due to the aftermath of an hour-long practice.

You approaching him for a change, took him by surprise a bit, but even surprise he still managed to wear that smirk to antagonize you.

“What’cha want, princess?” he said as he placed his hands in the pockets of his pants.

There was that damn nickname again.

“Um, I need you to take me to the market,” you say bluntly. Sugarcoating with Atsumu would only lead to his enjoyment but, somehow your words managed to do so anyway.

His smirk grew as he leaned back on the lockers behind him.

“And where’s the person who ya wanted to take you?” he knew he wasn’t your first choice. Hell, he wasn’t even your third or fourth choice.

“‘Samu can’t, so can you or not?” you probably shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum, especially because you had the lower ground.

“Sorry princess, can’t,” he said without a care as he slid his arm through his maroon Inarizaki jacket. “Meetin’ with Yui”

Just her name was enough to remember this morning. Your face contorts in disgust at the thought of her roaming the house barely clothed.

“Oh, you don’t have to be jealous, princess.” atsumu says after witnessing your reaction and assuming it was because of him. You can't help but snort at his response.

“I think you’re telling the wrong girl that.” you can't help but laugh as you speak. Your words earn a slight head tilt from a confused Atsumu and an amused whistle from Suna.

You turn to take your leave from his presence, but before you walk out the school entrance you turn back one more.

“Tell your girlfriend to watch what she says to me next time.” Your voice was much stronger than before. You didn’t stay behind to see the distraught faces of the two men you left behind.

You couldn’t even hear the way Atsumu slammed his locker and Suna’s voice calling him as he rushed off.

You should have eaten more today.

That was the only thing that you could think while you scurried through the food aisles slowly compiling the ingredients your mother needed. Her listen was all over the place; enoki mushrooms, powdered sugar, sesame seeds, fatty tuna, vanilla extract, rice. The list went on longer than you expected.

All the feelings you were being put through today managed to stop you from eating lunch as well. The only thing that was in your stomach was five grapes that you managed to get down before your encounter with the unexpected visitor.

The last thing on the list was a jar of raspberry preserves, which of course was located on the highest shelf of the aisle. As you stare at it, debating if you should make a fool of yourself to jump while flailing your arms to reach, a voice came from behind you.

“Need a boost, princess?” His voice started you causing you to move backwards and stumble into his chest but quickly move away from him. Before you could respond Atsumu reaches up and grabs the jar that you were eyeing.

You turn around to him with wide eyes as he hands you the jar without his usual banter. Silently, you nod your head and take the preserves from him.

“Why’d you come? Weren’t you going to hang out with your girlfriend?” you asked as you placed the jar into the cart.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said firmly as he placed a hand on the cart to halt you from moving.

Why was he acting this way over this? It actually seemed like he was bothered by the situation.

You opened your mouth to respond but the voice that danced on your ears did not belong to you.

“Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d see.” A deep voice sounded from behind Atsumu. Both you and Atsumu whipped your heads in the voice's direction only to be met with two faces that put a smile on your face instantly.

“Aran!” Atsumu bellowed loudly, as he embraced his friend while you exchange greetings with Kita.

“What are you guys doing here?” you asked.

“We came back from college today, decided to go shoppin’,” Kita said as he lifted up the small basket in his hand.

“Now, the more important question is, what are you two doing here?” Aran asked as his eyes bounced between you and Atsumu. Aran was a friend of the twins ever since they were 9, therefore he was your friend as well. He knew exactly how you felt about Atsumu, so that would explain the way he was looking at the two of you, alone at a grocery store as the sky was enveloped by darkness.

“My mom asked me to pick some things and uh, ‘Samu was busy,” you said quickly, hoping that he didn’t think differently.

Aran nodded his head while pressing his lips together.

“Say, aren’t you guys graduatin’ soon?” Kita said as he shifted his basket from one hand to the other. “D’ya know where you’re going for school y/n?”

Now, this was the first thing that put a smile on your face throughout the entire day. “Yeah, UCI, California!” you said with a proud girn.

“America? What program?” Kita inquired with wide eyes.

“Journalism!” the one word made everyone’s eyes widened.

“Of course it’s journalism. She's the one-woman team that runs the Inarizaki newspaper.” Aran said with a wide smile.

You continued the conversation with Aran and Kita as Atsumu wandered off somewhere in the store. You weren’t sure where he had gone but you didn’t care enough to worry.

As you and Kita conversed, Aran spotted Atsumu at the opposite end of the aisle and slips away from the conversation.

“Bro, where d’ya go?” Aran asked slightly concerned.

“Just walkin’ round,” Atsumu said as he swung his keys around his index finger.

“So, y/n’s leaving Japan?” Atsumu had an idea of where Arans questioning was leading to as he slowly nodded his head in agreement.

“How does ‘Samu feel about that?”

ding ding ding

“Probably not too good,” Atsumu asked knowing exactly how his brother feels about your pretending departure. “I wouldn’t feel too good if the girl I loved since I was 6 was leavin’ the country either”

“So is he gonna tell her?” Aran whispered.

Atsumu let out a soft snort at Aran’s words. “He had 12 years to tell her, ya think he’s gonna now?”

Atsumu knew his twin brother loved you since before they even started playing volleyball. And ever since then, Osamu has never once attempted to tell you of his feelings. It drove Atsumu mad, but he never interfered between you and him.

Before the conversion could further between him and Aran, they both see Kita waving them down.

“Let’s go Aran, y/n has to get this stuff home before dinner!” Kita said as the two large men approached you.

“Happy early birthday, y/n,” Kita said as he gave you a small hug.

At Kita’s words, Aran checked the date on his phone in a panic. “It’s tomorrow!”

“Yeah, the only reason why Kita knew was it came up in conversation” you replied. You were never one to flaunt your birthday. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy big parties and multiple guests but, to you birthdays meant something else.

Your fifth birthday was the only one that you could remember before your father’s death. It was celebrated by only your mother, father and you, but it seemed like the most fun a five-year-old could have. Your mother always mentioned how your father enjoyed small birthdays and how they were sacred. he would say to “only share them with people who brought you pure happiness and expected nothing in return”. And that was now how you chose to live, just like him.

“Actually, I'm having a small dinner tomorrow, do you two want to join? ‘Samu will be there, so you could catch up with him.” Your invitation earned a smile from Kita and Aran but a deep frown by the blonde beside them.

You hadn’t invited Atsumu to your birthday dinner for obvious reasons and weren’t planning to.

The two men looked at each other debating whether to accept or decline but ultimately accepted.

You were expecting Atsumu to chime in but, he hadn’t. He only looked at you with narrow eyes and a frown.

His eyes were laced with an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher. Anger? Annoyance?

It was only then that you missed Atsumu’s stupid banter because this Atsumu,

This Atsumu seemed to be a thousand times worse

Ten minutes had passed since you last left the market and about twenty minutes since you last spoke to each other.

You two sat in complete silence as Atsumu drove to the Miya mansion in Atsumu’s Red Lamborghini. Mr. Miya bought both the twins a car of their choice for their 18th. Osamu had gone with a black Benz jeep while Atsumu went for the most flashy option.

You debated speaking to him, to break the awkward silence that filled the space between the two of you but Atsumu had already gotten ahead of you.

“Not going to extend the invitation for yer dinner?” His tone returned to its usually annoying self.

You look at him with a blank face and tired eyes. “Are you joking? It’s not like you’d come anyways.”

It was hard to believe that you two were once friends. Now you two could barely be in a car together without it imploding. He was the one that left you out of things, he was the one that no longer wanted to be your friend when you two were 8 years old. So why was antagonizing you over an invitation he wouldn’t even accept in the first place?

He just wanted to pester you in every way possible.

Minutes passed and once again the car was quiet as a mouse. Till Atsumu, once again sparked up a conversation.

“Yui,” You whipped to face Atsumu in the diver seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Yui. What did she say to ya?” He spoke without taking his eyes off the road, foot shifting between the gas and the break.

You were too tired to lie or ask why he cared, so you answered truthfully. “Your girlfriend didn’t like your nickname.”

“Not my girlfriend,” he said curtly while turning the wheel to turn on to your street.

“Fuck buddy, whatever.” you aimlessly correct yourself.

“Not anymore,” Before you could even comprehend his response, you two passed through the white gate lining the mansion.

It was far later than you thought you’d be home. The moon sat brightly in the sky as it was surrounded by small stars. it was basically night You only hoped that your mother wouldn’t be mad.

Unexpectedly, Atsumu helped you carry the grocery bags into the house. He strung 4 bags on his arms as you were left to carry one. You insisted that you can carry half his load but he was already through the door.

“‘Tsumu! y/n! Bless your hearts, thank you kids so much.” your mother said as you two placed the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen. “Thank you for taking her, ‘Tsumu.”

“Of course, Obasa-” before atsumu could finish speaking to your mother something had caught his attention from the dining room.

Or perhaps, someone.

Before you knew it, Atsumu ran to the dining room and stood in front of the table. Instinctively, you follow him to the scene in front of you.

Sitting at the table was Osamu across from Mrs. Miya, and in between them, at the head of the table, sat a man you had not seen in a long time.

Miya Kaito, the twins’ father

“Atsumu” his father's voice sounded cold and hard as it said his son's name. Atsumu must have thought the same thing as you could see him wince at the sound of his name rolling off his father's tongue.

“So now ya decide to come home? What, finally got tired of sleeping at the office?” Atsumu’s voice was blaring, anger coursed through his veins, the only thing he could see was red.

“‘Tsumu! Stop it!” Osamu shouted from his seat in hopes to stop his brother.

“I wanted to have a meal with my family, so just sit down, Atsu-” Atsumu cut his father off not wanting to hear what he wanted to say.

“Cut the bullshit dad! Yer too busy for us and yer too busy for ma. so don’t even fucking try to fix this family, ya broke it a long time ago!” Atsumu’s voice raised in volume.

“Atsumu!” Mrs. Miya shrieked for her son to stop.

“I’m here now, okay? So sit down!” Mr. Miya’s voice matched Atsumu’s in volume as he urged his son to stop.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’m gonna sit down and play house with ya.” was the last thing Atsumu said before storming up the stairs. You stood there in complete shock at what just happened.

Your eyes scanned the room around you. Mrs. Miya held her head in her hands as Osamu's face grew in irritation. Their father stood there with distraught painting his face. Your mom was still in the kitchen, but she still glanced with worry with her hand over her mouth.

Everyone in this house was shaken because of him.

Osamu stood from his seat to go after his brother but you decided to instead. Osamu shouldn’t have to worry about his brother when he's going through the same thing.

You ran up with stairs faster than you ever have to catch up to him.

“Atsumu!” you called from him as you followed him up the stairs. He ignored you as he reached the top of the stairs and walked towards his room's door.

“Atsum-” Your second attempt was deemed successful in getting his attention as he turned around and pushed you against the wall, caging you in his arms.

“What do you fuckin’ want, y/n?” His voice dripped with pure anger. He looks distraught. His eyes were red and glassy and his skin was turning an unnatural shade of red.

“Atsumu, I know you’re mad at him but just go downstairs and talk to him! Everyone’s upset. Just give him a chance.”

“What the fuck do you know about how I feel? Ya got a good mom, yer going to a good school in America and ya live in a big house, which is mine by the way. Yer miss perfect! So don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do. This isn’t your place to speak.” He yelled inches away from your face.

You parted your lips to say something but he left before you could. The slam of this door was deafening to your ears. You stood there, in front of his door in utter shock.

You knew he had a right to be angry, and in no way you were denying that right. But Osamu had every right as well, and he was sitting downstairs beside his father.

Why was it different for Atsumu? Why should he be allowed to create this mess and let everyone drown in his actions?

Why couldn’t he just try?

Atsumu’s words about you left a burden heavier than any weight that has been placed on your shoulders. If you could not speak about his family, why could he speak so thoughtlessly about yours?

Broken families came in all sorts of shapes and sizes; he out of all people should have known that the best.

[ the lovers taglist: @meepmoop12w @okkotsoo @quirklessidiots-trashdump @luna-mothii @unstaaableaf @lilith412426 @sunasbabie @thepsychicartist @gojoussunglasses @encrytpta @yamaguchis-17th-freckle @mavrintarou ]

unable to tag bolded blogs <\3

#miya atsumu angst #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #hq atsumu #haikyuu angst #atsumu angst #atsumu x you #miya atsumu smut #atsumu series #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #miya atsumu #the lovers.series #tw.family issues

75 notes · View notes

scarecrow-supremacy · 3 years

Text

A/N: Oookieee, so I decided to start writing a new fic bc I have great ideas for a story line. Yet I can’t bring myself I writing an actual beginning. Like I’ve already written some random chapters, but I can’t do anything with them because they don’t really make much sense without the context of the rest of the fic/my ideas. Like this chapters is where the romance/actual x reader gets into actual action. Hopefully you get the gist of what the plot is, and aren’t confused as hell from this part. Sorry if it’s a bit long, it’s around 4.8k-ish words. Enjoy 💜

Hatake Kakashi wasn't one to celebrate his birthday.

He simply thought that they were foolish excuses to let loose and party. To Kakashi, birthdays were no reason to be happy and celebrate. They were just reminders of how long he had endured the pain of living. Each year marked another without the people he once held close in his heart. His father, his sensei, his teammates, and (y/n)...

The day that (y/n) gone on that horrible mission was his special day. The mission he was supposed to go on, but (y/n) filled in for because she wanted him to go celebrate with Gai and the others. So much for having the day of joy...Kakashi thought to himself mournfully.

With a great sigh, he grabbed the last of his belonging, shoving them in his mission pack. He'd promised to take his students out of a group mission for the day, but it had been mostly for selfish reasons. Kakashi had hoped that this would take his mind off of the weight in his soul, yet knowing that his efforts would be futile. The loss would never leave him, it would always follow him like a darned shadow. It would forever haunt him. There was not letting go of the horrors of his past.

Slowly, Kakashi strolled to the gates of Konoha to meet his kids, shoving his hands in his pockets as he mumbled a little tune under his breath. The dark cloudy sky and drizzling rain seemed to mirror how he felt inside.

Drip, drop. Drop, drop. Drop, drop.

Each raindrop fell upon the dirt paths of the town, dampening Kakashi's Jonin uniform. If only he'd gone on that mission, if only he hadn't let (y/n) take his place. If only so many things that happened hadn't. If only he felt whole again. He could feel the heavyweight of guilt on his shoulders, spreading pain throughout his body. Sure, Team 7 filled the void, but they could only do so much. If there is one thing I wish for, it is that these kids will grow up to be happy.

A soft smile played upon Kakashi's face as he approached the three teens. "KAKASHI-SENSEI!" His hyperactive blonde student, Uzumaki Naruto, yelled at him, "YOU'RE LATE-TTEBAYO!" He raised his fist in anger. Sakura glared at both Kakashi and Naruto, slapping the boy's back to calm him down. Off to the side stood Sasuke, his hands in his pockets as he briefly kicked the dirt and pebbles around him to form his clan's symbol. "Usuratonkachi," he grumbled at the group. To be honest, Kakashi did feel a little guilty about keeping the kids waiting for him. They were being held back just because he was wallowing in self-pity. And Kakashi felt ashamed of that; ordering his mind to push his thoughts further to the back of his mind.

Kotetsu and Izumo, guards of the gates, turned to the team and smiled in greeting. "The gate opening mechanism is broken, so we have to manually open the gates," they explained. "Heading out yet again, eh?" Kotetsu chuckled. "I thought you lot just came back from a mission. Ya leaving so soon?" Izumo asked. Naruto pumped his hand into the air, "Yeah! Dattebayo! It's only a C rank, but it'll be fun-ttebayo!"

He's a lot like you, eh Obito, Kakashi's mind wandered as he looked up at the clouded sky, a drop of rain fell upon his nose and slid down his mask. If only you, Minato-sensei, and Rin were here to see us in action. You would be proud.

But what about (y/n)? Part of Kakashi was surprised that he didn't think of her immediately. Did he still believe that she could've been alive? After the Hokage had told him that he'd lost contact with (y/n), Kakashi didn't know what to think. It had been 3,650 days since she left. 3,589 since she was supposed to come back. And 3,529 days since they fully lost contact. What were the chances she'd come back, alive or injured? Kakashi wanted to believe that she was still alive. Was that realistic?

"She's gone, Kakashi! You need to understand that!" He flashed back to when Asuma, Gai, and Kurenai had tried to slap some sense into him. Well actually, Kurenai had slapped him. "Kakashi-sensei?" Sakura gently tugged his sleeve, straining her arm up so her red umbrella would also cover his head. "Are you okay? You've been spacing out a lot lately." She whispered as she looked up at him.

"I'm fine, Rin," Kakashi weakly smiled, "It's nothing that you should worry about." Sakura flashed him a questioning look, "Rin?" Sucking the air, Kakashi's whole body tensed up, "Sorry." He looked away, turning his attention to the bickering Sasuke and Naruto. "Just a little mix-up, Sakura." He put on a fake smile, breaking up the boy's fight. "Let's go, shall we?"

"Alright! Shanaroo!"

"Dattebayo!"

Kotetsu and Izumo went to open the gates but stopped to exchange worrisome glances. "Someone just knocked from the other side of the gates. Which is weird because our list says that we shouldn't be expecting anybody." Izumo knit his eyebrows together. Kotetsu, who had been looking through a glass which allowed him to see the incomer, hastily urging Izumo to help him. "ANBU!" He had barked at his partner, "Bleeding! Dying, wounds, whatever! They need medical attention!" That had caught Kakashi's attention, he got ready to act as the guards opened up the gates, heaving on the rusted hinges. Yet he was not mentally prepared for what awaited on the other side of the grand doors.

There she stood. Uniform torn, stained and ripped up. The wakizashi sword that was strapped to her hip was blunt and scratched, the sheath dented. Skin scratched and bruised, wounds dripping with blood and gore. A long x shaped cut on the inner side of her left thigh. Gasping and choking for air, she started to wobble, blood dribbling down her limbs and stomach. The rain continued to fall, now hard and heavy; burning and searing the wounds of the lady. Yet she still managed to keep her face from wavering In an instant, Kakashi recognized who the woman was based on her cracked porcelain ANBU mask. (y/n).... "Sakura! Go alert the hospital. And you two boys, clear the way for Sakura so she can get there. Quickly!" Kakashi ordered them as he took the heavily wounded woman in his arms. Anger and fear coursed through Kakashi's veins as his heart thumped erratically. He could feel (y/n)'s body twitch in pain. "Izumo, go let Hokage-sama know that Ibara-hime has returned." Kakashi let out one last demand before zipping off to follow his kids.

"Kakashi..." (y/n) mumbled out his name, "Kakashi..." she shakily rose her hands up to gently cup his masked cheeks. "What is it?" He whispered, gently rubbing her skin through a torn patch of her ripped uniform. "Happy birthday, Hatake..." She softly breathed, her tight grip of Kakashi's chest loosened as her eyes dropped closed. Please don't die, (y/n)... I've waited all the fucking years. You aren't leaving me again. A tear formed in Kakashi's eye, flying off with the rain as he bolted towards the hospital. Stay with me a bit longer, will you?

"My sensei will be here any second with an ANBU woman in need of immediate medical attention!" Kakashi heard Sakura's voice quiver as he barged into the hospital. "I'm here, kids. Go to Gai-sensei and stay with him until I'm back." He quickly barked, flashing all of the nurses who flowed into the room a nervous look. "Please, help her. I'm begging you." He pleaded with the staff uncharacteristically. I need her to live. Need. "We do what we can, sir." One of the medic-nin nodded, putting (y/n)'s unconscious body onto the stretcher. If (y/n) lives, that would be the best birthday gift ever.

Kakashi jogged after the nurses and doctors, peering into the emergency clinic room through the window. "I'm sorry, Sir, but you won't be able to visit the lady until all the major injuries have been cleaned up and treated." A male nurse out his hand in his shoulder from behind. "But..! Okay..." Kakashi let out a sigh, "Isn't there any paperwork that needs to be filled out?"

The nurse shook his head, "The Hokage has come and is speaking to one of my colleagues about it. Don't worry about it. You won't have to take care of any of that." He tried to reassure the angsty shinobi, "The woman is part of the ANBU ranks, right? Her mask is of the uniform." Kakashi nodded his head, biting his lip inside of his mask, "Yeah...she is... but it's kinda complicated." The nurse raised his eyebrow but just shrugged. "Can I speak with the Hokage?" The Hatake requested. "Come this way," the other man sighed, leading him away.

Kakashi let out a deep and long sigh as he held (y/n)'s scraped hand in his gloved ones. He had been told by the same nurse from before that (y/n) was in a decent state to accept visitors, yet was still unconscious. He could tell that the nurse was hiding something from him, but he was too worried about (y/n) to give it a second thought. Hesitantly, he brought her hand to his masked lips, gently pressing them against the fabric. "Ya know, (y/n). After you left, I decided to give those goddamn books a try. And you're right, they are addictive. Thanks for the gift," Kakashi sadly chuckled before pausing for a moment.

"Those books, they helped me a lot. They helped me get through my days, just like you told me."

"They also helped me realize something. They helped me realize that I don't hate you. I don't want to hate, and I never should've."

"I've realized that I was such a dick to you at the beginning and that it was all my fault that our relationship became how it was. I regret it... So when you wake up again, I just want to start over again. Maybe not entirely, but just so that we can leave all the hate behind us. How does that sound?"

Kakashi stared at the sleeping (y/n), her chest heaving up and how slowly and rhythmically. It hurt him to see her like that, her skin swollen in the places of the stitches and anointed bruises. "Listen, (y/n). I'd never been able to tell this to you while you're conscious, so I might as well let it out now. I...I love you." Kakashi rightly shut his uncovered eye. "After feeling your loss, my dumbass self finally realized how much you are worth. After they pass on, you and the others were all I had left. But then you also left me, that hurt like hell." His tone started to break.

"Lord Hokage told me about the whole fake-death move, and I was relieved that you weren't gone for good. And then we lost contact, everybody assumed the mission had been finished, and your squad sacrificed your lives for it. I couldn't let the fact that you could be a dead sink in. It didn't feel right. Gai, Asuma, and Kurenai tried to get me out of another depression cycle. Kurenai even went to the lengths of quite literally slapping some sense into me." Kakashi played with a loose strand of (y/n)'s (h/c) hair.

The muscles of (y/n)'s hand twitched ever so slightly. Kakashi's drooping head snapped up; he'd almost fallen asleep in the chair. "(y/n)?" He murmured as her eyes started to flutter, "(y/n)?"

(y/n) chapped lip parted ever so slowly, taking a big breath of air, her (e/c) eyes squinting. "Hatake..?" She shakily managed to mumbled, her voice hoarse and dry. She tried to prop herself up on the bed, but Kakashi eased her back into her resting position. "Rest, (y/n), you're not ready to stress yourself yet." Kakashi to her, "I'll be back with a nurse and some water for you, alright?" (y/n) opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She simply looked down and nodded.

Moments later, Kakashi came back with the nurse and water. "Here," he carefully put the cup to her lip, gently tipping the cup, "Good." He turned to the nurse, who seemed to be scribbling something down from the little monitor to his clipboard. Kakashi's eyes followed the cord attached to it, to the long x shaped hash in (y/n)'s inner left thigh. What worried Kakashi was the anxious look on the nurse's face.

"(l/n)-san, your vitals are doing alright, but you'll have to stay here for a night or two just so that we can keep an eye on something's that may need monitoring." He curtly nodded his head, "Lord Hokage wished to speak to you. So, sir, that means you may have to leave."

Kakashi tried to reason with the other man, but (y/n) reached to weakly squeeze his thigh. "It's okay, Hatake. You can just drop by later." (y/n) tried to smile. "Fine," Kakashi grumbled, leaving the room and letting Hiruzen in.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hiruzen came back out. "How's (y/n)?" Kakashi asked him impatiently. The Hokage put his hand on Kakashi's shoulder as if trying to soothe him, "She'll be better soon. Don't worry, alright." The silver-haired shinobi let out a small grunt, "I know that she'll get better with time. But what about now?"

Kakashi knew that Hiruzen loved (y/n) almost like a daughter, he cared about her deeply. Hence the elaborate cover-ups to protect (y/n) and her squad on the unconventionally lengthy mission. The Hatake could see the sadness that had tried to be tucked away in the Sarutobi's eyes. "The main concern of the moment is the poison in the gash on her left thigh. The medic-nins have tried to extract as much of it as possible, and try to find something that will counteract the effects." The elderly man explained to him. "Did they find an antidote?" Kakashi questioned.

"That is where the problem lies," Hiruzen explained, "There is a certain medicinal herb that is used alongside a jutsu to nullify the effects, as the poison has traces of chakra. We have a few medics on hand who support the skill to perform the jutsu, but we don't have the plant. Even so, that won't be a permanent cure." Kakashi knit his eyebrows together, "How would it not be a perfect cure? Plus, since there are traces of chakra, could we possibly track down the person who created the poison and make them fess up on the cure?" He questioned.

"Great thinking, but..." Hiruzen groaned, "(y/n) said that they performed a self-destruction jutsu just after striking her. He probably thought that it would be in their best interest to take their secrets to the grave with them." Kakashi cursed under his breath, "Fuck... This is terrible."

Hiruzen nodded in agreement, "No duh."

Kakashi's head shot up, "Uh?!"

The elder man's eyes widened, "Did I use the term correctly?! I'm trying to pick up on the phrases the kids are using these days..."

Kakashi gritted his teeth, "Right idea of the meaning, I guess. But the context and timing...wasn't quite fit." Looking ever so slightly dejected, "Oh...alright." Smoothening out the wrinkles in his robe and putting in his cob pipe, "Kakashi, if you are going to stay here with (y/n), could you at least pick up some good food. The food in the hospital canteen is quite bland." Kakashi nodded his head and obliged, only to be stopped in his tracks by Hiruzen.

"Kakashi, I'd like to ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What caused your change in actions towards (y/n) change so much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've observed you two whilst you were in the ANBU together, and you never got along that well. And suddenly you act so attached to her, Kakashi. You don't need to answer. It's just that as your leader, I want to understand what is going on in the heads of some of my most trusted people." Hiruzen explained to Kakashi, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cob pipe.

Kakashi frowned from behind his mask, trying to figure out how to explain his change of feelings in a professional manner. "I think that after I was given the impression that she was gone, I noticed that I cared about her. It made me realize that I was wrong to not see how much she meant in my life." He tried, his voice fading off into a whisper. Hiruzen smiled and nodded, "You really are something else, Kakashi."

Kakashi silently strolled over to Ichiraku's to grab some takeout. The paper lanterns lit the nearly empty streets of Konoha, creating a soft and soothing ambiance. The smell of the rain and moisture still clung to the air, the dirt roads had muddy dampness to them. "Yo! Kakashi, my eternal rival!" A boisterous and friendly voice greeted the said man. "Hey, Gai," Kakashi responded, he noticed his students sitting alongside each other and gave them a quick wave and smile. Naruto and Lee were arguing about who'd get Sakura. Sakura insisted that Sasuke would come around in her favor. Sasuke was quietly eating his food. And Neji and Tenten were discussing a new sword they saw in the windowsill of a weaponry shop.

"I'll take two eggplant miso soups with brown rice noodles," Kakashi leaned over the counter space between Lee and Naruto to order his meal, also effectively stopping the argument. "Thanks, Ayame," he thanked the daughter of Teuchi, owner of the quaint place. "No problem, Kakashi-san!" She chirped.

"Kakashi?" Gai raised his brushy brow, "Your kids told me about what happened this morning..." Kakashi sighed and pulled him aside so that they were at a comfortable distance, "It was (y/n)..." he told his best friend, "She's back and in the hospital because she's not in good health at the moment. I just came here to pick up a meal for her." Kakashi watched as Gai's jaw dropped, "(Y/N) IS ALIVE!" He exclaimed a touch too loud for his eternal rival's taste, "CAN I MEET HER?!" Tears of youthful joy waterfalled down the jumpsuit-clad man's cheeks. "I'll see if you can come tomorrow, alright Gai." Gai smiled broadly, "This is very...unusual. Youthful, nonetheless!" He grinned.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his head and nodded, "I'm glad she's back..." he murmured barely loud enough for Gai to hear. Knowingly, Gai patted Kakashi's back. "Oh! Yeah! Happy birthday, my youthful rival!" He gently punched his comrade's shoulder. A smile formed on Kakashi's lips, "Thanks, Gai." He flashed his eccentric friend his signature close-eyed smile.

"I'll see you later."

"Bye, Kakashi! Have a good night!"

Knock knock, Kakashi rapt (y/n)'s door, "Can I come in?"

"Come in," (y/n) murmured, a small moan of pain escaping her lips, "Ouch..."

Kakashi quickly set the takeout on a little table, rushing to (y/n)'s side. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and helped her to the table. "I got us dinner because the food at the canteen isn't that good." He explained with a slight shrug. "Thanks, Hatake," a weak smile formed on her lips. The silvered-haired Jonin served them their meals. "Itadakimasu," they both mumbled.

Heavy tension filled the room as they ate in silence. (y/n) knew that Kakashi had his mask down, but didn't look up. "It's been a while..." Kakashi breathed, in hopes of hearing (y/n) speak, "Too long..." The kunoichi rested her forehead on her palm, "I- Yeah..." she mumbled, eyes growing classier by the second. So much for trying to start a conversation... Kakashi thought sadly as they resumed their meals without a word. The silence seemed to be killed him. Kami, it had been 10 goddamn years! 3650 days since he had gotten to talk to the woman. He missed her. Hell, he could even say that he missed all of their little spats. Hatake Kakashi missed everything about (y/n).

"I missed you..." was all Kakashi mumbled as he pushed his finished food away and pulled up his mask, "All these days, months, and years."

Hot tears slipped down (y/n)'s cheeks, forming a puddle on the table. "I-I came back be-because I didn't want-want to hurt you and the r-rest. Dying on passed down pain to the people who love you. I can't afford to c-carry the guilt of t-that." She mumbled shakily, "I promised to be back, a-and I held up the promise." Kakashi sadly smiled as he awkwardly reached under the table to gently caress (y/n)'s thigh.

"You care about others so much, but you should really take a moment to care about yourself, (y/n)." Kakashi scolded the injured kunoichi, "You had me scared for you; all those gashes and open wounds... You could've died," he knit his eyebrows together in worry. "Don't do that ever again."

(y/n)'s dull smile faltered as Kakashi spoke on, "Now you know how I felt when I saw you doing all those suicidal stunts back then on those missions. It was like you were in a hurry to die... I mean, I was too, but you did some seriously dumb shit," she giggled emptily. Kakashi sweat-dropped, "I see... I guess you are right..." (y/n) rolled her (e/c) eyes as the masked shinobi let out a drained sigh, "I'm always right, Hatake."

"Really, (l/n)? You've been through torturous pain, and you still act like a child." Kakashi groaned, "All these years..." (y/n) shot him a hard glare, "All these years and you still think you're in charge of me." He cast a confused look, "It's my duty to protect you, as a comrade." As a comrade... "I guess, but you're just annoying, Hatake," she huffed.

"I'm sorry about ruining your birthday with my arrival and stuff. I probably ruined your plans with those kids." (y/n) looked down, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them, "I could hear you guys through the gate; they seemed pumped about going out. I'm sorry, I didn't think about the flaws in my whole plan." Kakashi's head snapped up from its resting position on the table, "It's fine, they don't even know it's my birthday," he paused, "But you planned to come here? As in, today in particular. With all those injuries, (l/n), you should've just tried to take care of yourself. My birthday isn't as important as your health."

The (y/n) shook her head, "I was going to stay at a small village pretty far from here before finally coming home. I planned to just heal up there and see how things went from there. I even considered settling down there. But that just didn't feel right," (y/n) face set in a frown, "Once I realized that your birthday wasn't that far off, I decided that I couldn't stay and needed to come back. I doubted I would even live to be back. But here I am..." she said with a soft wince of pain. "It was terrible, I hated every second of it," Her (s/t) fingers made their way to the raw mark on her inner thigh, “I’d already lost so much; there was nothing for me to lose at that point.” Kakashi's face softened as he understood what she meant. (y/n) wasn't put in the mission alone, she had her team. They all must've been killed with time.

"Ouch!" (y/n) yelped as she let out a moan of pain, clenching the fabric of her hospital-issued pajama pants. “Shh..." Kakashi whispered into her ear, quickly leaning in to soothe her, "What's causing all this pain?" He asked with a frown as (y/n) bit her lip. "It's the thing in your thigh, right? Lord Hokage and the nurse told me a bit about it. But I still don't fully understand it and how it can't fully be cured."

(y/n) buried her face in her hands, "Oh..." She mumbled, "The poison can't de be removed because it's already been inside of me too long. And since it is laced with chakra, the properties of it aren't completely like normal poison." She blinked back the stinging agonizing tears in her eyes, "The herb that I need is just going to ease the effects in my body, whilst the jutsu will seal it from triggering anything that was layered in with the chakra." (y/n) explained. Kakashi could tell she was trying her hardest to keep her face straight, pushing back the pain and hurting inside. "The thing is–"

"What?" Kakashi asked the pained woman, his tone soft and soothing, "I can help if I know what's going on."

Warily, (y/n) agreed to speak on, "The place where the mission was stationed at was just underground of the nuke-nin outpost I was from. And the guy who poisonous me was one of the other kids' experiments were done on, along with me. He was a few years older than us, and his name was Hiroto Myoga. His parents were in owed debt to the rogues, they were forced into being test subjects until they died. Which left Hiroto in the nuke-nin's hands." She rubbed the temple of her head pushing away the images that sent a shiver down her spine, "Something similar had happened in the case of my parents and me. But unlike me, when the ANBU did the raid, Hiroto was snuck away just in time."

Kakashi's heart sank as he heard what she was telling him. (y/n) had never known much about her past, the damned curse seal had caused. “Since he was older than most of the other kids there, the nuke-nin's of the outpost decided that they needed to trust their information. It was all precautionary, just in case they were taken down. And that's just what happened. Hiroto was the one ordered to put memory restriction curse seals on us, the kids, before he fled to be underground, where the actual harm was being done. That meant that all this time Hiroto had been working in those old plans." (y/n) closed her eyes tightly, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

With a subtle groan, Kakashi supported (y/n) up from the chair and rested her in her cot. "Don't stress yourself, (y/n). You can just tell me later; it's getting late anyway." He told her. "It's fine, Hatake. Letting this out helps me feel better." She reassured him.

"The ANBU caught wind of suspicious activity in that area and decided to send out a squad to go check out. I overheard Danzō arguing with Lord Hokage about it, and got interested. It was really dumb, but I just wanted to go to learn more about what happened in my past. I learned, but that can with lots of twists and turns. 10 years of going undercover..." (y/n)'s (e/c) eyes met Kakashi's single uncovered black one, "It wasn't long before Hiroto became suspicious of us, slowly narrowing the group down till it was just me." (y/n) took a deep breath and continued, "After Hiroto killed himself in our final fight, my curse seal was lifted. That's how I suddenly was able to remember all of the past. All of it."

A pit formed in Kakashi's stomach as he watched (y/n) cry in silence. He wanted to help her feel better, he really did. But he was afraid that he'd make things worse; dealing with feelings just wasn't his thing. "I'm here for you, (l/n). We've been through so much together, you've helped me through it all," Kakashi tried to reassure her, "It's my turn to look after you. Please, just don't cry." He reached out his hand to brush a tear-off of her streaked cheeks.

“Are you okay with me staying here for the night?" Kakashi asked (y/n) as they sat at the bay window, looking down upon the empty moonlit streets of Konoha. The soft light cast down by the moon seemed to make everything look beautiful, serene, and at peace. "(l/n)?" He asked again, turning to look back at her. A gentle smile played on Kakashi's lips as he saw that she'd fallen asleep. (y/n) had been through so much throughout the day, she not only deserved to rest for a long time but also needed to. "Good night, (y/n)..." he carefully lifted the sleeping beauty and placed her on the cot. Sitting back at the bay seat, Kakashi took in a deep breath. "I love you."

She's finally back.

She's finally home.

190 notes · View notes

caker-baker · 4 years

Note

ahh I loved 'If there was a crown' If you have time would you please consider writing a continuation? because it was amazinggg

The hero hated princes. Princes were annoying, vain, arrogant, and so very cocky, according to the hero.

The prince, on the other hand, didn’t so much mind bakers. Bakers were fun, scare-able.

At first, the prince was everso delighted when learning of the hero’s identity, his plot being decided in all of two minutes.

Then the baker-hero was there, and they were so different than the prince imagined. He always thought they would be strong, with or without the costume, but this baker was barely quelling their nerves.

And to hear them call the prince by his title gave him relief to no end. But it felt oddly wrong.

To see the fear dawn on the baker’s face - fear the prince had never seen in their fights - it was all too perfect, and all too short lived.

Next was the taunting, something the hero had always been able to participate in, and with the repartee being one sided, the prince was filled with glee.

Until he wasn’t

He was frustrated, he thought he would be happy. As a prince, he could have anything except the hero, and now that he had them, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, still.

The prince noticed the hero’s harsh concentration whenever he neared, their head working on ways to escape.

He was a diplomat, the prince. He was taking over the kingdom, he was raised to know what people were thinking.

“Pesky little hero, it’s no use.”

“What?” The hero snapped, still mid thought.

In response, the prince smiled, and tilted his head to the side. “Would it be fair to assume you have never been in such a situation?”

“Take your best guess, my prince.” The hero’s tone was anything but formal, but that didn’t stop the delighted feeling flowing throughout the prince.

“Such malice, baker.” His words were equally as venomous. “For someone in such a bind, I would think one to be kinder.”

“I would think I still have my dignity.”

“And shaking hands.”

The hero fell silent.

Sly eyes found their way to the crown in the corner of the cell. While it was hard to break, the hero certainly did try, the crown now dirtied and somehow slightly dented.

The prince didn’t know they had that sort of strength.

“I did mainly come to drop this off.” A tray of food rattled on the lone desk. “But it seems you are in dire need of company, what, with taking out your solitude on my most prized possession.”

“You shouldn’t give nice things to pesky heroes.” The hero bit back, the chains on their wrist becoming uncomfortably heavy.

“I told you, I would make an exception for you.”

Silence reigned for a brief moment.

“I could strangle you.” The hero said, voice soft and hands trembling. “If you just got close enough, these chains are more than enough, I could-”

“Then do it.” The prince stepped closer. “I won’t try to stop you. I will even assist you.” He turned around, back towards the hero. “I’m close enough, unsuspecting, a prime opportunity if any.”

Nothing happened. The hero didn’t move, the prince didn’t move, and the world came to a standstill.

“Or,” the prince spoke, still turned around. “Is this not how you would like me? Would you prefer I go to war for you? Some neighboring territories would be rather easy to take, if only in your name.”

The hero actually stepped back. “What is this?”

“Compliance. I’m being a kindly host.”

“A host?” The hero repeated. “This is a game to you?” Their face had twisted into a snarl, but no move was made against the villain. “Tormenting one while killing others?”

The prince whipped around. “What makes you think I’m practicing villainy again?”

“There was never a choice, was there?” A stark laugh came from the hero. “That’s why you’re the only one down here, isn’t it? Everyone else thinks I’m long gone. Besides, are your plans for the kingdom finished?”

Oh, this amused the prince greatly.

“Clever and pesky.” He muttered. “An awful combination.”

Despite their nerves, the hero managed to stare the prince in the eye.

“Won’t your guard be suspicious?” The hero asked. “The king?”

Pure anger flashed on the prince’s face. “That man is of no-” he remembered himself, the anger dissolving before a neutral expression took hold. “You should eat. I’ll know if you don’t.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I hope you don’t value that bakery all too much.”

When the prince had gone, the hero let themselves come undone, trembling in a pile of fear.

No other threats were made past that one fateful day, on either end.

It became a routine, of sorts. The hero would try to find a way out, and the prince would sit back, amused.

Once, the prince stormed in, wrinkled papers clutched in hand.

“I’m working in here.” He announced, making use of the desk oh so generously supplied to the hero.

The hero had to wonder if that was the purpose of it, more for the prince than them.

“I thought you had no power.” The hero mumbled folding something from ripped book pages.

“I still have responsibilities, something I suppose doesn’t affect you anymore.”

The hero nearly crushed their paper creation. “My responsibilities were ripped away from me if you deign to remember!”

The prince waved them off, scribbling something with their other hand.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed for the hero, it was only when the prince sighed and leaned back did they realize time had passed at all.

“What are you making?”

“A child’s toy. Most every child in the kingdom can paper-fold.” The hero snorted. “Probably not royal ones.”

The prince stood tall over the hero, eyes landing on the expert foldings. “A paper crown. How ironic when a real one stays in the corner.”

“How ironic you keep coming here.” The hero set the paper crown aside, their hands clutched together.

They were refusing to look at the prince.

“Pesky little hero, your silence is suffocating.”

“What were you working on?” The hero said, still not looking at the prince, though they could see him in their side view.

“Are you truly interested?” The prince asked. “Or is this you trying to find information to use against me?”

“What does it matter to you? Any information I get will rot away with me. It’s ‘no use’, isn’t it?”

Clever and pesky indeed.

“If you must know, you pesky thing, I’ve been trying to worm my way out of a potential marriage.”

The hero’s head snapped up, only to find the prince already looking at them, smiling widely. “There you are. A possible wedding is what it takes for you to look at me?”

“So you won’t be getting married?” They made to look down again, but the prince snaked out a hand, grabbing the hero’s chin.

“You would make a pretty royal.” He said appreciatively, turning the hero’s head with his hand. “Especially done up for a royal portrait.”

“So you’ve said.” The hero tried to yank away, but the prince held fast.

“We,” he began, “are created to be perfect. I was created to be perfect. There’s something so fascinating with everyday people still being beautiful.”

The hero’s lip curled. “My appearances are not for you to marvel at!”

“My, my.” The prince dropped his hand. “Where do these little bursts of defiance come from? It feels as if I am truly talking to Hero, and not some baker. By the by, what do you call a baker without a bakery?”

“Go to hell.”

“At some point.”

The hero suddenly regretted their words, their bakery floating to the top of their mind.

“That’s not a concentrating face.”

They hated him, for being a prince, for figuring out their identity, for having power, even if he didn’t realize it. But most of all, they hated he could hold their bakery over their head.

“And that’s resolve. What, I wonder, is going through your head?”

The hero’s eyes dropped, their hands reaching to tear more book pages, and at this, the prince sighed.

“Fine then, I’ll leave you to your folding.”

“What do you care?” The hero asked, already making a crease in the words. “Are you just having your fun before you decide to kill me?”

“No.” The prince spoke quickly. “No. I am having fun, but you will not be dying. Not here. Not by my hand.”

“Then it is just simple then.”

“What is?”

The hero looked up. “You are a cruel bastard.”

There was no response, just a long and cold stare, then once again, the hero was alone. They were alone, and now had a plan.

The prince had mentioned it earlier, but the hero didn’t believe him, they thought he was still going to kill them. However, the quick desperation of his tone made the hero rethink otherwise.

The prince didn’t want them dead, did he? What were the chances of getting out if the prince thought they were close to death?

This was a flimsy plan, especially in that there was no telling when it would happen. The hero would have to make it look like something had happened, but the prince would have to be there to witness it.

So, the hero had to listen, and carefully.

Any sign of steps, and they would move. First, to the bed, where they would grab the blankets and pull them down, trying to make it look as if they had clutched onto something before falling.

Next was the positioning. The hero wasn’t sure about this, the chains being a bit inhibiting, but hopefully, if this all went as planned, the chains would be coming off.

Finally came the hard part, acting. They had never needed to pretend to be passed out, they had never had to force themself to be calm like this. It was already difficult for them to even their breathing while in a state of nerves, but to play at vulnerability while making their lungs steady was difficult to say the least.

So, it all came down to keeping their nerve, and timing. It would work fine, they were sure of it, despite how hard their heart was hammering in their chest. This had to work fine.

Listening was difficult, singling out one specific sound among dozens of others, especially to the untrained ear. Once or twice, the hero had prepared, positioning themselves with the blankets in hand, only to realize it was an echo of a sound.

Knowing what time it was would make it easier, the prince delivering meals himself at a specific time was otherwise useless information.

They couldn’t be sure how long they listened, only that they were suddenly on the floor, the sound of regal boots getting closer.

The creaking door opened, and the hero had to stop themselves from shaking. They had to do this right, it had to work.

The prince cursed, something dropping onto the ground.

Then there was the sudden closeness, the prince mere inches from the hero’s face, who could feel their muscles tensing.

Two fingers were on the hero’s neck, who almost cried having to keep still while the prince checked their pulse.

A rattling sound, then the weight on the hero’s wrists dropped. They had to stop themselves from flinching away, from running right then and there. They had to make themselves be dead weight when strong hands lifted them.

Breathe even.

Dead weight.

Don’t let your eyelids move.

Breathe.

The steps the prince took were large, frantic. He was in a hurry to wherever he planned on taking the hero now.

And once the hero was sure, absolutely positive they were at least past the bars of the cell, at least far away from the manacles, and at least in an open space, they struck.

A fist flew to the prince’s jaw, his hold on the hero weakening. They hero leapt from his arms, rolling back onto their feet.

“And there’s that acrobatic hero I know and love.” The prince chuckled, rubbing his bruising face.

There was no time for the hero to play into what was surely his attempt at stalling. They could either incapacitate him now, or run and hope to find the quickest way out.

A prince knocked out in his own home might raise questions the hero couldn’t afford to answer.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to fight?” The prince baited.

It almost worked. Almost.

The hero, fists clenched, turned and ran. Maybe this wasn’t the brightest of plans, but none of the options were the best.

“I happened to have grown up in this place.” The prince said, leaning against a corridor wall the hero had just turned onto.

They immediately turned around again.

“Pesky hero.” They heard the prince tut, footsteps once again fading away.

A door, it was all they needed, a window is what they got.

They didn’t hesitate, smashing their elbow against the glass, cracks beginning to form. This was done again and again, until the window had shattered completely.

The hero peered down, looking at the two story height.

Considering the prince had taken them from seemingly below ground to upper levels of the palace, the height made sense.

And the height worked. The hero had done much more from much higher places. This would be easy, it might still hurt, but it would work.

The hero stepped up, their back facing outside, a slowly setting sun bathing them in light.

“Hero.” A voice said, cold and commanding. It was a voice future kings should learn.

“Your highness.”

“You don’t know what you would happen if you made a reappearance as Hero. You don’t know what would happen if you left.” The prince took a step forward, fully aware of the hero watching him. “As it turns out, I’m not the only royal who dislikes heroes.”

“Is that all?”

The prince cautioned two more steps. “I don’t think you quite realize what I have afforded you.”

After prince’s taunts, his fun, it felt good to see his discomfort, even if vengefulness wasn’t the hero’s style.

“I’m sure I don’t.”

Three more steps. “And I don’t know what stunt you are trying to pull here, but-”

“Not a stunt.” The hero interrupted. “I’m just leaving.”

It had gone right, this plan, and it felt fantastic, they felt calm for the first time in a while. They felt a lot that they hadn’t felt in a while.

“I think we could discuss this civilly, don’t you?” One more step, and he was in arms length of the hero.

“I think you’re wrong.”

The prince lunged, but the hero was quick enough, pushing him back as momentum for the fall.

If he wasn’t aware of the hero’s skilled ability in any and all things acrobatic, he would’ve been worried for their safety, but instead, he had a million other things to worry about, namely, how to get them back without making a fuss.

The prince chanced a glance out the broken window, but the hero had already faded away, disappearing with the prince’s dignity.

The worst and most daunting of it all was that the hero had managed to snag the prince’s brooch on their way down.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #captive hero #hero #villain #heroine #heroes #villains #prince villain #sorry #so sorry #request #part two #if there was a crown #villains and heroes #heroes and villains

198 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

33 obikin 🙏

bless i can't write anything straightforward or normal to save my life

33. Celebrity/Fan AU (modern AU, singer Obi-Wan)(1.8k)

Obi-Wan had only wanted to cook, really.

He’d decided on Tuesday night that he would take Friday off as a sort of self-care day. He needed it. In the midst of a world tour, finally with a week to breathe back in his home city, he’d wanted to relax for a day. One day without music or an audience of any kind, just him in an apartment filled mostly with dusty counters and almost expired foods.

He loves his fans, because of course he loves his fans. He loves the fact that people relate to what he writes enough to listen to his albums, although he has gone through several different sounds over the course of his career. He loves that he can be 39 and still touring the world, even though he started his career as a 13-year-old-child-actor turned teen-pop-sensation turned serious musician turned perhaps-washed-up-serious-musician turned very-much-serious-musician-actually-this-time.

If not for his fans, he wouldn’t be able to afford this house on the outskirts of his town. He wouldn’t be able to boast his performances in three-fourths of the world’s major cities. He wouldn’t be able to continue to have a career. No. He loves his fans.

It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just wants peace and quiet, a moment to himself, where he can float away without concerning himself with the flow of the setlist, the timing of the encore, the lyrics and rhythms of songs he wrote a decade ago when he was practically a different person.

It’s just such a shame that Obi-Wan leaves the handle of the wooden spoon too close to the stove’s open flame when he stirs and adjusts the heat to low for an hour so he can go soak off his stress in the bath.

It’s just such a shame that the smoke alarms from the kitchen cannot be heard over the music he’s playing in the master bath.

Obi-Wan sinks beneath the water, enjoying the unyielding pressure. He doesn’t want to retire, he tells himself. He has so many more songs to write. Sure, he hasn’t written an actual good song in two years and people are starting to notice. Sure, the intense scrutiny is driving him up the wall and killing anything creative that he’s ever harbored in his soul. Sure, his muscles and bones ache and he had almost had a breakdown the other day when he first walked through the door of his home and couldn’t remember if there was a bathroom on the first floor, but.

But he doesn’t want to retire yet. He just has to admit he’s waning, even to himself. Whatever inspiration he had has been used up or otherwise escaped. All he has now to his name are songs that have already been sung.

He doesn’t know how long he spends in the bath, really. Long enough that the album changes twice. Long enough that his fingers prune up and his eyes grow lax. Long enough that he tells himself that no matter how soothing the lavender essence is, it would be very dangerous for him to fall asleep in the bath because the news articles alone would be enough to raise him from the dead only to strike him down again.

(Long enough for the wooden spoon’s handle next to the pot to catch on fire. Long enough for that fire to burn down to the oil on the spoon itself. Long enough for the dishtowel it was resting on to ignite as well.)

The smoke alarm clues in before Obi-Wan does.

Luckily, Obi-Wan had paid extra for a smoke alarm that, when registering a certain threshold of smoke, sends a notification to the closest fire department.

Luckily, this all happens while Obi-Wan is unaware, but before he becomes in peril.

He actually remains unaware of the whole thing right up until the moment a fully-suited firefighter kicks through the door of his bathroom.

That’s when he jerks up, very unceremoniously. “Fucking Chr--what?” he shouts, raising a hand to cover his exposed chest for reasons unknown.

“Obi--??” the masked firefighter starts to say, in something akin to shock, but like Obi-Wan is going to give ground here and now. He’s cornered the market on shock on this occasion, thanks much.

“What the--”

“Your house is on fire!” the man yells over him, looking around the bathroom wildly until he sees a fluffy off-white bathrobe hanging by a hook near the door. He throws it at Obi-Wan, who just catches it before it can get wet.

“My house is what?” Obi-Wan splutters, standing automatically to put on the piece of clothing. The helmet of the firefighter turns away to give him privacy. Despite himself, he finds it rather endearing. He ties the belt around his waist tightly, stepping out of the tub.

As soon as he’s out of the water, the other man swoops him up and over his shoulder. Obi-Wan lets out a scream which he’ll probably be absolutely mortified about later.

But now, what’s more distressing is the way his body is responding to the hold he’s been placed in. He’s thirty-nine years old. He’s definitely too old for this. He should definitely know better than to be even slight aroused by such a display of...strength and stalwartness and--

The man walks him out of the bathroom and the very first thing he notices is the heat that hits his skin. “Oh!” he whimpers and then yells wordlessly in absolute panic as he realizes what this heat must mean. His house is on fire. Actual fire. Actually on fire. There’s a fireman here. Because his house is on fire.

He’s only a little ashamed to admit that there’s a fair amount of thrashing that happens immediately upon this realization.

Enough so, in fact, that the firefighter transfers him from over his shoulder to cradled in his arms, so as to hold tightly against the movement of his limbs. “Stop--moving!” the man says irritably. Obi-Wan wants to tell him to work on his bedside manner, seeing as how his house is on fire, but he doesn’t have time before they descend the stairs and he can see the actual flames.

The stairs themselves are fine, which makes sense. Hot air rises. The dining room, parlor, and entryway look like they’re absolutely covered in fire though, so really his fireman was just in time to save him.

The smoke is acrid against the back of his throat, and Obi-Wan buries his face against the textured shoulder of his rescuer's uniform just so he doesn’t have to look or breathe the air, although he feels the smoke already working its way through his lungs. Well. That might just be his imagination.

They’re out of the house in a matter of seconds, and Obi-Wan’s eyes water immediately at the difference in air quality.

The man who’s been carrying him sets him down gently on the lip of the fire truck, far enough away from the house that he’s not in any danger--though most of the place is fine still--but close enough that someone can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t remembered to grab his phone. That phone was very important. Hopefully the other firefighters will be able to stop the fire before it reaches his bathroom.

His firefighter seems intent on hovering close to him, even as there's a fire raging in the background. Obi-Wan supposes that there's around five firefighters on his property, including the one in front of him. The other four should probably be able to handle it, whether or not the fifth decides to join in or stay hovering around Obi-Wan like he's a sickly orphan.

“Are you okay?” An earnest voice asks him from under the helmet.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say he’s fine, that at most he just feels like an idiot for being stranded outside in his bathrobe as a group of public service officials fight a fire he certainly, most likely, probably caused.

But he starts to cough instead, and his firefighter steps forward immediately, placing one hand on his back and the other on his chest, both beneath his robe. He hopes the man can't feel his shiver. That would be even more mortifying than his current situation.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Obi-Wan wheezes after the coughs have passed. The helmet the man is wearing only shows a quarter of his face, but he looks awfully boyish. “Aren’t you a little young to be a firefighter?”

“Deep breaths, please,” the man (boy?) tells him, which isn’t a proper response. “There’s an ambulance already on the way--it’s protocol, sir--but yes, I’m trained in emergency medical response.”

“A man of many talents,” Obi-Wan says dazedly, rubbing a hand against his chest where it aches as he watches a few men run around his house with a house. “And here all I can do is sing.”

“Hopefully you still can, sir,” his firefighter responds. “Only I’ve got tickets for your show in two days, and my little sister has been excited for weeks over this.”

Obi-Wan laughs despite himself. He’s sure it sounds at least a little bit hysterical. “Would you like me to dedicate a song for you? The man who saved my life?”

Even the helmet can't hide the nice shade of red his firefighter blushes at those words.

“What’s your name?” Obi-Wan asks, smoothing down his still-damp hair. It feels important to know his name. It feels just as important to look his best, given the circumstances.

The firefighter ducks his head and takes off his helmet. Obi-Wan wonders if the man should be going back to work, or if he’s been assigned victim duty. Either way, Obi-Wan isn’t going to complain, definitely not after his firefighter shakes out his hair and turns to face him with a sheepish grin stretching across a handsome face. “‘M Anakin,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan is awfully aware that he’s dressed only in his bathrobe in front of a very pretty firefighter who seems to know who he is--who seems to have tickets for his upcoming show. “Call me Obi-Wan,” he tells him, already trying to remember his manager’s phone number so that he can bump Anakin and his sister’s tickets up to the VIP section. It’s the least he can do, after all. Anakin had just saved his life.

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” Anakin says with a shy sort of twist of his mouth. Obi-Wan gets the impression that it isn’t just his little sister that’s been excited for his concert. An impression that is solidified quickly as Anakin tacks on, “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Obi-Wan laughs incredulously at this, at the entire situation, at the man in front of him, at the fact that some part of his brain has started composing a song the second his firefighter had smiled at him in his bathrobe with his tired face and wet hair, kitchen burning his house down because he’d forgotten basic fire-safety rules in favor of his own self-care soak.

“Well,” he says, patting his firefighter’s knee, “I don’t have to tell you that I’m a huge fan of your work as well.”

#later anakin gives obi-wan such a huge earfull about proper fire safety in the kitchen #never leave something unattended for more than like five minutes >:(#but also later obi-wan writes an entire album full of fire related songs and or songs about burning #only some of them would call to mind mustafar and theyre all anakins least favorite ones because they're sad break up songs #and anakins like >:0 every time he hears one of those in public #tries to contain the urge to be like 'my husband LOVES ME BTW and this song is A FICTIONAL WORK not based on ANY actual EVENTS #we're SO happy together and if he were here I'd MAKE OUT WITH HIM RN' just in case any gossip rags got any ideas from the new albm #ahsoka refuses to go out in public now with him just in case #so does obi-wan #asks #my fics #obikin #prompt fill

100 notes · View notes

itskatastrophe-x · 3 years

Text

Far Off Places (CH 1)

Overview , Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Word Count : 2,487

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Pain. That was the only thing you knew. The only thing you felt. Not just physically, but emotionally. Your kingdom had been doing so well. You had everything. It was all right there in the palm of your hands for years. All of that had been undone in a matter of minutes as lava poured from the sky and bombs went off under the surface. After fighting for so long, your advisors told you to run. Start fresh in a new place. Find new friends and live a normal life. What even was normal? You had lived in the spotlight for so long, ruling over the same people, the same faces, the same memories. This kingdom was all you knew, and now it was being burned to the ground.

You kept running, tripping over your own feet and branches as you went, your breath catching in your throat every few seconds, making you feel like you were drowning on land. The smoke from the fires wafted through the trees, burning your lungs and stinging your eyes. Your cheeks were red and puffy from crying for the past couple hours, the bitter wind chilling them. You only stopped once going up a large hill about half a mile outside the city walls, and then again once you reached the top. You collapsed roughly to your knees at the base of a tree, hunching over and putting a hand against said tree to keep your balance. You spluttered and coughed violently from all the smoke you inhaled and doubled over in pain, scrunching your nose and closing your eyes tight. The distant sounds of fire crackling and wooden supports crashing to the ground echoed around you through the valley. You recomposed yourself and slowly brought yourself to stand, still leaning against the tree so you wouldn’t immediately fall over from the burning sensation in your legs.

You stood there with your back facing the mess for what felt like hours, but was probably only a couple minutes. Part of you wanted to turn around. The other part wanted to keep running. So you stood there. The sounds making you sob harder, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Not yet. This was your home. How were you supposed to just let this happen? How did this even happen in the first place. You couldn’t remember making any enemies, so who could have done it? A neighboring country? You highly doubted that. You were hundreds of miles away from anyone else, your kingdom was basically hidden away in a valley between mountains, making it extremely hard to get to.

Time kept passing and the roar of thunder washed over you slowly, lightning flashing in the far off distance over the mountains. The setting sun finally dipped below the horizon and the fires blazing harshly behind you cast the scenery in a dim red glow. To say the scene before you was beautiful was a sin, and yet you enjoyed looking at all the colors laid out in front of you. You just wished that it wasn’t caused by your home being torn apart. You grieved all the lost, innocent lives that were taken. All the time and memories, now all ash and dust to be forgotten. For all you knew, you were the only one that survived the massacre, though you hoped that wasn’t the case.

You finally brought yourself to a solid standing position and pushed off the tree, steeling yourself as you turned to face your city in paradise. The sight was horrific, and somehow the smell had gotten worse upon turning to face the blaze. Lava flowed from the city walls and scorched the surrounding bushes and trees, the buildings were undistinguishable, and the castle way off in the distance was missing chunks as it continued to burn. Rustling around you alerted you to animals evacuating their homes as well. You were glad they could at least make it out. The smoke rose into the sky and danced with the clouds, a beautifully terrifying kaleidoscope of red, orange, and grey. The wind was getting harder, sending spirals off the sides to dissipate in seconds. Thunder cracked again and finally the sky started to cry alongside you and your own tears. It started as a drizzle as you turned on your heels and lowered your head to check your bag. Two golden apples, a loaf of bread, a couple fish, a notebook with a quill and ink, and a torch at the bottom. You pulled the hood of your cape up over your head and tore off a piece of the loaf and started to nibble on it as you moved yourself forward into the night, leaving the ruins of your homeland behind you to fall to the ground and be lost to time. Where would you go? You had no other family, knew no other rulers, and didn’t know what laid beyond the mountains.

Your trek through the thick foliage was slow and grueling. The wind had picked up, sending violent ice-spike-like raindrops to attack your face and arms, soaking through your torn and dirtied clothes. You were thankful it was the middle of summer and overall a warm night, but the wind mixed with the rain had chilled you to the bone, sending shivers to wrack your whole body every couple of minutes. You had a large diamond axe on your hip as well as a bow and a few arrows slung across your back. The only things that remained of your homeland. The light glow from the axe and bow from the enchantments being the only light in the dark jungle.

You had been running for miles before you decided it was time to sit and rest and possibly try to get some sleep somewhere. Luckily you had the knowledge on how to survive in the wilderness despite being locked behind walls all your life, so you stopped to scout out a safe area to set up a small base. In the dark you made your way to a smaller tree and started chopping, tightening your grip on your axe so the rain wouldn’t make you lose your grip. It took roughly two hours to collect all the necessary materials to build a small tent-looking structure, but it was good enough to sleep on and safe enough from the hostile creatures that lurked. You fought off a couple zombies on your endeavor, but nothing too serious. You took off your torn up cape and laid it on the ground to sleep on and set your axe and bow next to where your head should rest, bringing your book, quill, ink, and torch out and setting up to write.

Journal Entry : New World 1

Today, my empire was lost. I don’t know where to go or what I’m even looking for, but I hope to find someone or something to help me along my way. It’s been raining for hours and the sun should be up soon, but I still haven’t slept, as I have been running all night. I’ve set up a small structure to keep me safe for the time being. I don’t know where I am and the surroundings all look the same to me. I don’t understand what went wrong. Hopefully someday I can go back and investigate when I feel like I’m safe from whatever or whoever set my kingdom ablaze. For now I should rest, but I doubt that will happen with all the thoughts and questions running through my head.

You set the supplies back into your bag and break off another piece of your bread. Soon enough you’ll have to go hunting for more food. You’d rather save the apples for when you truly need them and you still had two fish, but you had half the bread you started with and you had no idea where you were or how close the next village or kingdom was. You sighed and bit into the bread, cringing as it was slightly hardened from being in your open bag for so long. You prayed the fish would last until you needed it as you laid down and put out the torch. You listened to the rain coming to a light drizzle again and chuckled at the timing. Of course it would stop raining only when you were in a shelter to protect you from it. You closed your eyes and drifted into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. It only lasted about four hours, but it was enough to get you through the day.

The sun glared down on your small shelter, heating you up and making you extremely uncomfortable. The sky had cleared up and it seemed to have just gotten past sunrise, as the sun was just coming over the tops of the mountains. You groaned as you sat up, the pain from running all night finally catching up to you as sweat dripped from your brow. You cursed the summer heat and wished that it was raining again, so that you might get a break from the sun. How did it manage to break through all of the surrounding trees and hit your little home so perfectly? It didn’t make any sense. Within a few minutes, you knew, it would be off the shack and onto the tree behind it, but for now the heat was unbearable. You packed up all your things, rung out your cape and shook it off, and exited the structure, ready to set off again. You looked around to try to get a sense of where you should go, and eyed up a path clearly made by travelling animals. You adjusted the bow and arrows on your back and went to the nearest tree to cut off a good sized branch to use as a walking stick to ease the pain in your legs.

Hours pass by, and then days. You feel like you’re walking in circles at this point, but the only thing keeping you on your path is the rise and fall of the sun. The jungle had changed into a spruce forest and the weather had cooled down immensely. You had heard of this happening in different regions but had never experienced it for yourself, so the new terrain and chilly air came as a shock. Off in the distance you could see snow capped mountains and lights reflecting off of the white landscape in the dawn. You grabbed some pork from your bag and chomped down on it, stopping to get a good look at your surroundings and supplies. Two and a half days of walking, battles with mobs, hunting pigs for food, and sleeping on the dirt. All of that had finally lead to what looked like a small civilization in the distance. You sighed into your food, taking another bite as you peered into your bag at your book and quill. You decided to get both out and sat down against a tree, pork in your mouth as you set everything down.

Journal Entry : New World 2

Almost three whole days of walking. My kingdom is long behind me. Snow in the distance. The air has gone cold and dry as I get closer to this new, unfamiliar place. I’m worried that I won’t be welcome in this new place, but there’s nothing left to lose so I’ll keep pushing on. I don’t have much to offer aside from my skills and a couple golden apples. I just hope I won’t be attacked or turned away on sight. Maybe there’s no one there, but I doubt that.

You set the book and quill back in your bag, slinging it back over your shoulder and pushing yourself up, mentally preparing for this last leg of your journey. You had no idea what awaited you, and part of you didn’t want to know, but you knew that talking to locals might be your best option at finding somewhere to stay or maybe a direction you could go to start over. All you knew is that your legs now moved faster in nervous anticipation, the thought of a fireplace and a nice warm bed carrying you faster and faster, almost tripping down the hill in front of you numerous times.

Soon enough the woods gave way to the snowy expanse and you pulled your destroyed cape as close to you as you shivered. You got out your torch and lit it, keeping it close enough to you to keep you warm, but not close enough to burn or set anything on fire. You set off across the snow, cursing your torn up shoes that were very clearly not made for this kind of weather. You had lived, surrounded by jungles and hot, humid, sticky weather all your life. To say this was a shock was an understatement. Your clothes were not made for cold, and your body was not conditioned for it either. You cursed, wishing you had hunted down some wolves for fur before coming this far. You trip and fall in the foot of snow covering the ground, and you can see clouds in the distance with wisps falling from the undersides. It would snow again, and soon.

You picked yourself back up and trudged farther and faster, the houses in view now. There was smoke coming from the chimneys and the lights were on. You made out a house poking out of the side of the mountain farther past them, black cats running around in the snow, kicking up snow in the process as they tackled each other. In a matter of minutes, you made it across the large field, your breath coming out in puffs, visible in the sunrise as it peeked over the trees. There were two houses side by side, a shack full of dogs next to the one closest to you, and farther to your right was a pen full of cows. The dogs went up in an uproar as you neared the houses. You mentally cursed yourself for getting so close, seeing as they had obviously alerted the people inside the buildings. The cats now standing nearby, watching you closely as you made your way slowly.

The curtains in one of the houses shuffled and then a door was heard opening, a loud sound emitting from the hinges as it was thrown open and a man with wings came out in a hurry, blankets spilling over his arms. And that’s the moment exhaustion finally took over, black dots forming at the edges of your eyes before you finally fell into the lush snow, your torch falling from your hand, extinguishing upon impact. The man gasped and rushed himself faster to pick you up and wrap you in blankets before promptly lifting you and taking you into the house, setting you on the loveseat and alerting the other man in the house to help.

75 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 3 years

Text

TINY DANCER

tags: javier peña x female oc, javier peña, rockstar!au, fluff rating: t ( teen ) (for now) warnings: language, alcohol word count: 1.6k+ summary: a band of young men from laredo, texas are on the verge of rock’n’roll stardom and anita rodríguez is the woman who follows them into it. a story of rock’n’roll and all the fluff that follows notes: this is very self indulgent and heavily inspired by the movie almost famous, as well as whatever fleetwood mac had going on, and the book daisy jones & the six. as you can tell, this is a genre of fiction i favor heavily, and i’m more than happy to make this everyone’s problem. thank you for baring with me

Summer time has never tasted so sweet on the tongues of these impassioned young men from Laredo, Texas, she bets. Perspiration covers their foreheads as they stand under the much too bright colored lights, and the crowd before them cheers them on with an eagerness that belongs only to those who really loved music. And they respond like men who really love music—all smiles and grins and heavy panting from giving their young bodies away to it. One might even say their souls.

Even from behind the curtain, she can feel the wave of electricity that rolls off of them. It is a beautiful thing to hear after suffering under the heavy blanket of Texas heat for her own performance.

They had liked her alright, responded about as warmly as they could for an opening act they hadn’t really known, but they turn these young men into Gods. She feels it tight in her stomach, that everlasting and endless excitement reserved for falling in love, not with people, but with moments. Even if it’s all for not, this little musical and spiritual journey she has partaken on, she will at least have been there for the moment these men had exhaled themselves into true and complete stardom.

Not bad for a band called El Fuego, she thinks.

“My God they’re something, aren’t they, Anita?”

Her sister holds aside the curtain to make room for herself. “The one in the really tight jeans was talking to me during your performance. He’s beautiful, I swear it. Just godly.”

Anita smiles. “You can’t fall in love with rockstars, baby sister, it’s unethical and impractical. Have your years with me taught you nothing?”

“Yeah, but those rockstars were a dime of dozen and tight jeans looks like sex out there,” she whines. Anita scans over the men, trying to decipher whom she might mean. That’s when she catches Tight Jeans’ eyes. She gives him a grin and without missing a beat, he gives her a charming wink. A wink reserved for a man on top of the world.

“What’s his name?” Anita asks.

“Javier Peña,” she responds. “He’s just gorgeous isn’t he? They all are.”

All Anita can do is grin as she continues to watch the rest of their performance.

****

This isn’t her first rodeo. This isn’t even her second or third or fourth. In fact, she’s lost track of the times she’s been led back to hotel rooms with a slew of people she doesn’t know, swept dangerously up in the shared euphoria that is the after show comedown.

In her hand she holds her second drink of the night. It’s a concoction she’d mixed for herself, made up of too much juice and too much alcohol, but she deserves it, she reckons. She’s opened for a damn good band and she’s a pretty damn good singer most of the time, and that Javier guy has been looking at her all night, despite the group of women that surround him. He has a good way of being present with them and present with her, too, genuine grins and attention for all to spare. Like the charming and humble lead guitarist he is, he strums idly at an acoustic guitar while he speaks with the women.

She’s been standing in the same place for too long, drinking the same second drink, listening to the beginning of songs he starts before he falters off into the next one. Even over the light hum of chatter and the radio nearby, she can focus on him. She watches his fingers as they strum—watches the way he doesn’t need to look down at them to keep them steady and trained. He’s a professional musician, through and through, even if he may just be some guy from Laredo to most individuals in the world. His manager had been so brave to wager that they were going to hit nationwide success by next week when one of their songs got radio air. She asked if she could keep opening for them, when they got big. All he did was grin. She likes to think it’s a yes.

“Hello.”

Coming back to earth, Anita finds Tight Pants in front of her. Not starling close, but enough to elicit something ghastly in her.

He smells of leather and good cigarettes, and her baby sister was right, he does look like sex. He’s all lean muscle, and though the perspiration has gone from his forehead, she bets if he were to lean in close and press his lips to hers, she might be tempted to taste the residue of it in what would become haste and passionate kissing.

“Hello,” she responds.

“I’m Javi, from Laredo.”

He extends his rather large hand for her to take, and she does. She wonders if this is the approach he uses with a lot of women. He’s good looking enough to be dangerous, but then again, she’s smart enough to understand where the line between fun and serious ends and begins with these men. She’s a rockstar too, privy to sex and drugs just like the lot of them, even if she is just a one man band.

She puts her hand in his and he gives her a firm shake. “Anita,” she says, then inspired by the liquid courage in her, she adds, “From somewhere warm, but hopefully headed some place better.”

He gives her a laugh and she finds that unfortunately, it’s the sort that makes one’s own lips tug upwards.

“You sounded good tonight. Did you write that song?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You sounded good too. I mean, you probably know that already, but.” She smiles. “Who writes for you?”

“Graham.”

“Graham’s the...”

“Lead singer. Dirty blonde over there talking to your—“ He looks at her. “Sister?”

She nods. “Yeah. She said she had talked to you earlier.”

“Yeah. We talked about your someplace warm. California, is it?”

“Cali indeed.”

“I’ve never been.”

“Well, Javi, I’m sure you’re about to.”

His dimple appears for her. He looks at her like she wishes he wouldn’t, because it makes her badly want to stick to his side for the rest of the night. And on his lips.

Even more unfortunate for her, he rummages in his pockets and pulls out a packet of those good cigarettes that make up his aroma. He opens it and takes one out for himself, sticking it between his lips, before offering her one.

“You smoke?”

She takes one. “Sometimes,” she nods. “Are we allowed to, in here?”

Javi shrugs his shoulders as he lights his. “Dunno,” he responds. She leans forward so he can light hers too. “Suppose we should go sit on the balcony on the off chance that this is the one hotel in America that doesn’t allow it?”

****

��You know Me and Bobby McGee, Laredo?” she nods down to his guitar.

The air outside is just cool enough to be comfortable in, so, despite that their cigarettes have long been stamped out and the party inside awaits them, they stay on the patio, rooted to the furniture. He hasn’t made any moves on her, a fact which takes her by surprise, and so they’ve lulled into a comfortable ebb and flow of natural conversation.

He tweaks his fingers on the neck of the guitar before he begins to strum the strings of it . His hair, overgrown in a way that suits a man of his occupation, cascades over his forehead as his brow becomes pinched from focus. In an instant, from his fingers comes the tune of her desire. He looks up at her, grinning, once he gets into the flow of it.

“¿Hablas español?” he asks, over his guitar.

“Un poquito, but not much,” she tells him. “Why?”

“No reason,” he dismisses, “Can you sing Me and Bobby McGee?”

“Sí.”

He laughs. “Well, put on a show then.”

***

She sobers up halfway between the sun tucking itself into the sky and the sun peeking back out from the horizon, but she can’t remember when. They’d played a lot of songs and her throat feels hoarse, but she can’t recall any one song that had felt particularly clear. It all sort of blended together up until this moment.

Javi lays, back rested against the chair, looking tired. His guitar now rests beside him, quiet, and he stares out at the city below them.

There’s a soft hum of normal people doing normal things below them; the horn of an eager taxi driver, the breaks of a bus, the chatter of patrons going in and out of the hotel.

They sit in the comfort of this city’s morning routine while she smokes his last good cigarette. “I was never much for staying up all night,” she tells him, passing it over to him.

He takes it between his lips and nods. “I was never much for sleeping all night.”

“And why’s that?”

He shrugs, exhaling the smoke. “Don’t know. Sometimes the past haunts me, sometimes it’s just too fuckin’ hot, sometimes it’s the company.”

“Mm,” she hums. “I must admit, I didn't peg you as the get-to-know-me-in-the-early-morning type. Thought you’d be content just charming me with your guitar for the rest of eternity.”

“Well,” he passes the cigarette back to her, pushing his digits against her own in the process. “I’m not, really, but we’ve talked about our favorite songs all night and you’re our opener for the rest of this tour, so why not?”

She takes a drag off the cigarette. “I’m not the opener for the rest of the tour.”

“No?” he asks.

“No,” she shakes her head. “This was a favor, I think. A very kind one.”

He looks out in front of him, falling into silence. Thinking. Then he says, “I think I’m in the position to call in some favors right now if you’d liked to be. The opener, I mean.”

She lets the smoke out from the side of her mouth, which has risen up into a wide grin. “Javier from Laredo, I think I could kiss you right now.”

He takes the cigarette back from her fingers, offering her his own grin. “I think I’d like that,” Javi says, tone soft. Genuine.

She swings her legs over the side of her lawn chair, and holds herself up just far enough to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He turns though, not entirely on purpose, she thinks, and their noses brush against one another. She rises from her seat when he leans down and fills the space between them, resting against his own chair as his lips move against her own.

No tongue, though. He pulls back after a few seconds, brown eyes full of warmth. She’s surprised by the amount of control he has over himself. Surprised that he wants to use it, too.

“I better go check on my sister,” she breathes out, resting her hand over his chest.

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll see you in the next city, Anita.”

“Yeah,” she smiles.

“Look for me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she promises.

She likes this man and his tight jeans, she’s decided. Likes him a lot.

EVERYTHING : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-n-tonic , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @honestly-shite , @over300books , @elegantduckturtle, @pbeatriz , @pretty-brown-eyess , @brcwneyes , @chronic-nosebleed

JAVI : @wyn-n-tonic , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @hb8301 , @penajavier , @darnitdraco , @over300books , @dobbyjen , @paperbag33 , @rebel-fanfare , @p3dr0pasca1lov3r247

TINY DANCER : @itssmashedavo (just because i thought this might interest you)

#javier peña x female oc #javier pena x female oc #narocs fic #narcos #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal fanfic #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #javier peña #javier pena

37 notes · View notes

uglifish · 3 years

Text

How do you write long multi-chapter fics without losing steam or motivation?

Hey guys!

Been a while since I made a post answering all the FAQ’s in my inbox, and this is the one I get the most, so here goes my answer/advice:

▽ structure and continuity

(and i still struggle with this lmao its an uphill climb)

1) outline or map out your story path. if it drags and you find yourself getting BORED with your writing or where the story is going, its time to stop, step back, and evaluate.

completely write out the storyline in short-hand nonsense as fast as possible, because its for you only, so go back to fill in the details later. if you want to see what MY outlines look like...... -embarassmentttttt-

Here’s a screencap from underwater chrysalis.

if you’ve read that story, you can probably recognize this scene was an entire chapter, but it was 5 nonsense sentences in my outline.

2) if you can sit down for X hours and write out the outline from start to end (yes, end of the story) then you have a solid skeleton to polish up :D

3) don’t worry about chapter splitting just yet. get it all out first

▽ Marathon time

1) set aside time for yourself to write it out. Find time for it at least once a week or once a day if you can manage that! DON’T leave it sitting for 2+ weeks--unless that’s your creative process--and if it is, and you recognize you get stuck here, leaving the fic alone for more than 2 weeks = abandoning the fic?? then proceed to this step→

go back to it and read it over and over, right up until the point where you stopped, ask yourself questions about where the characters are going (refer to your outline)/ why the characters are doing X scene ...etc (is there tension? is this part boring? why have you stopped writing? tired? take a nap:)

2) know when to ignore (writing) advice. and i wish someone had told me this when i first started marathon fic-writing. advice is great but its not a cure-all and maybe you’re exhausted from trying everyone’s suggestions. literally you do you, but keep an open mind to learn along the way.

3) if you run into a problem, like wanting to change an ENTIRE scene that will affect the ending of your story, stop writing and go back to your outline. you’re wasting your own time this way. write to get to an ending.

4) know that there are formulas to long, captivating stories. its like a curve that goes up and down. (find a formula that works for you!) for me, it’s: scene start tension scene escalating tension resolve tension but then another conflict + 2 conflict + 1 romance = long 3 chapter scene :D scene resolving 1 conflict, romance + 3 yay! scene adding to conflicts and romance above tension resolution? another tension or romance resolve? which slowly helps taper to an end (which i still struggle with)

5) have fun! you’re exploring this character, this universe, don’t get too stuck up your own ass about stuff and let things go. if you finished a scene and re-read it, hate it, don’t give yourself crap about it. if you’re happy with it one day and unhappy with it another day, figure out why or just let it go. Your goal is to write as much as possible to finish your story to the outline you wrote. if you get hung up on the stuff in the middle, you’ll never reach the finish line.

▽ I’ve finished my multi-chapter my pile of crap. Now what?

1) don’t look at it, don’t even think about it. congratulate yourself and go to the beach :D get yourself a coffee and socially-distance-hang-out with your friends

2) 1 - 3 weeks later, re-read it ALL with fresh eyes. don’t tell your friends about it, don’t link it anywhere for feedback. it’s still ALL YOU right now.

3) re-read it round 1: edit it grammatically and for bulk. if you still hate that random interaction you added in, delete it entirely and set it aside. fix all grammar issues and add to more descriptions if some are lacking.

4) re-read it round 2: a week later with your own fresh eyes, make sure everything flows. did you say character X had a green shirt in ch 3 but in ch 4 they were wearing a blue shirt? fix that :O might be a genuine mistake, either you forgot or got up to leave your fic for 4 days and (forgot)

5) re-read again round 3: a week after that, read it again and find it for more errors, add more flow if some scenes have a choppy transition, and start to split it into chapters. Find natural breaks in your writing (or cliff hangers!) and cut them there. 6) recruit a friend! Ask someone you’re ok with baring your soul to and make them read your slightly less steaming pile of crap, which is now a polished turd. hopefully your friend will tell you it IS a polished turd and is OK for posting, or that you still mentioned green shirt character is wearing a blue shirt (again) in ch 56 and you missed it :P

7) post and run, or save it to re-read again 6 months later

i’ve been doing the post and run thing for a while if im medium-proud of my shiny turd, or if im really insecure about it, i’ll sit on it for even a YEAR before i even breathe about it. its not that i hate it, its that i feel it could be better and if i’m continuously writing during that time, I can go back to look at it with fresh(er) eyes.

▽ things to think about / stuff to ask yourself while writing:

- why am i tired (of this, of it?) know yourself and know your limits. if you’re tired (physically, of writing) learn to differentiate that from being mentally tired.

- who are you writing for? a friend’s bday gift fic? submission into Fanfic Award-Winning Novel Writers Club? A novel manuscript to Random House? Nanowrimo? your fandom rare-pair discord server? ....yourself?? and then figure out your motivations for the tone of your writing :D

- i suck at writing X (a violent action scene, smut, small-talk in elevator scene), so i’ll just skip it... no. if you think your story needs it, make your best attempt at writing it and then go back to edit it. you’ll be happy you pushed yourself to write it.

- i’ve never done X (been to a hotspring in Japan, gone hiking in extreme weather, gone on a blind date) how would i know what it feels like? Try your best to envision it or use the wonders of the internet to learn about it. Research is your best friend to express realism in your writing :D

aaaaaaaaaaaand that’s all i got for now :O

*btw you know what works for you as a creative mind, this is all stuff that works for me and I hope you found it helpful!

thank you for reading this super long post, and feel free to PM me if you need a “get me unstuck” buddy in your writing process :D

xooxxo Ugli

#askugli #fanfiction writing #writing in general #its super technical in some parts #writing is hard #help #writing anxiety #prideshipping fanfiction

31 notes · View notes