#guess the idiot who only slept three hours today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eenochian · 1 year ago

Text

not to family-post on main…… so i’m putting it under a cut lol (it’s also just long af bc i needed to rant)

but, today is my father’s birthday. 53 years on this planet and he’s probably about to have the most miserable birthday of his life.

the dumbass cheated on his wife. three marriages and he’s managed to ruin every last one with cheating (amongst other things). no idea when she found out, but it was sometime after the 14th, at least. she’s already moved out of their house and is going to rent it to him since she owns it, apparently. i was woken up yesterday (it’s 8:08 am as of me posting this, i haven’t slept) with the news.

my father’s soon-to-be ex wife had my mom blocked throughout her entire relationship with my father. we knew he was feeding her some bullshit lies about my mom and what actually happened between them. he told his wife that my mom was turning my brother and i “against him” and making us hate his wife. meanwhile, my mom was practically begging my dad to introduce her to his wife, because she wanted to meet the woman who would be spending time around her children.

even before i was born, my father was just a disappointment… cheated on my mom while she was pregnant with my brother and claimed he was “feeling depressed and unwanted” whilst my mom was suffering from a cocktail of issues, was always unemployed or under-employed, cheated while she was pregnant with me, then couldn’t be assed to take care of his children while my mom was working and going to college full-time. she had to pay for daycare despite the asshole being unemployed.

she left him a couple weeks before i turned 4, i think. i don’t remember it very well cause i was so young, but i remember him yelling and punching the door she was standing in front of. broke his hand. she rightfully called him an idiot. my family laughs about it now, but i used to call him “my trince” – it was supposed to be “prince,” but i couldn’t say it properly y’know. my mom told me that he started crying because i looked at him and said “you’re not my trince anymore” lol. broke his heart, i guess.

the spring before i turned 6, my mom, brother, her boyfriend at the time, and i all moved from california to texas. my dad stayed in cali. my brother and i visited him for a week during the summer when i was 7, but that’s the only time we saw him until shortly before i turned 11.

we talked on the phone to keep in touch. i don’t remember how often we talked, i think weekly, but i do remember sprinting to the phone and feeling so giddy whenever he called… i just wanted to talk his ears off for hours, my father almost felt like a novelty throughout my childhood. i learned earlier this year that my mom often had to force him to call and talk to us.

i remember the day he moved out to texas. the beginning of my 6th grade year, i was about a month away from turning 11. my brother and i were talking to our mom, she said someone special was stopping by. the sun had already gone down, but it wasn’t too late in the night. we guessed our dad, she said we were wrong. she was lying, obviously, and we learned that after we got a knock on the door and my father was standing on the other side.

i remember crying. hugging him so tight. thinking that finally, finally i’d have my father in my life. instead of being a novelty, he’d just be there. he was living close by, too.

my mom’s then-boyfriend (the same one from when we moved) was horrible. he was an abusive, loud, mean, all-around ugly man. i had it the easiest since i was the youngest. i don’t remember much from him, just a lot of yelling. so, so, so much yelling. him standing over me, being the 6-foot 300-something pound guy he was, taking joy in making a little girl scared of him. he never put his hands on me, but the intimidation was enough.

i still can’t handle a man raising his voice or even getting angry around me. my stepdad knows about the trauma my mom, brother, and i share. my mom easily had it the worst. i still sometimes refuse to acknowledge that i have trauma, even after being told by my mom and brother that i do. the first time my stepdad got angry and raised his voice – he was trying to install a transition slip on crooked floors because my mom and i kept cutting our feet on the edge of the carpet, got frustrated, slammed his hammer down and yelled – i was standing in the kitchen a few feet away….. i left my breakfast in the microwave and pretty much ran to my room.

i didn’t know why i started crying and struggling to breathe while talking to my brother until my mom came in a few minutes later. it was the first time she said the words “you have trauma” to me. she told me the next day that my stepdad cried after they went to bed because he felt so awful over scaring me. we joke about it now, but it’s been 3 years and he still feels horrible whenever we talk about it. i feel bad that he feels bad. my mom says we’re both silly.

back to the main point, though…. my mom finally managed to kick that bastard out shortly after i turned 11. it was midnight on a school night. my brother ended up climbing into my bed because i was crying from listening to all the yelling. her ex tried coming into our bedroom after my mom came in to grab something of his that we had in our closet. i remember watching her fight to hold that door closed and keep him out as he tried to talk to us.

she called my dad to come guard our door while she finished packing up all his stuff and throwing it out. my dad managed to do a 20-minute drive in, like, 10 minutes. maybe less, i can’t remember, but it was fast. her ex tried picking a fight with my dad, things nearly got physical, but my dad stayed right in front of our door. he had work the next day, but he still rushed over to keep us safe.

he was in my life a decent amount after that. we’d spend weekends with him, i’d text him daily, he’d take me and my brother to the movies, out to dinner, we’d play games and sing our lungs out in the car together.

he also dated over 20 women in a single year. he introduced us to at least a quarter of them and insisted that every single one was “the one.” he’d ignore us for the sake of whatever woman he was with. then, he’d come crawling back once the relationship inevitably fell apart. he told my mom that he could pay child support or “have money to spend time with the kids” – meanwhile, he’s always made more money than her. he couldn’t put us on his health insurance because it was “too expensive,” meanwhile my mom was working two jobs (in secret, she never told us about the second job until after she lost it) and making herself sick just trying to take care of us.

when i was 14, he had to move back to california because of his work. i thought him crying while telling us was proof that he cared… until i found out that he wasn’t going to tell us at all. he told our mom, but didn’t want to tell my brother and i until he was about to move. my mom had to threaten to tell us herself if he didn’t do it.

he visited around christmas. he was engaged to a woman he barely knew who happened to live in the same state. my brother and i thought he was there to see us. turns out, all he wanted to do was see her. my mom had to force him to spend time with us. i didn’t know this until years later.

after that engagement fell through and he managed to move back to texas… he met his current wife. he was also living even closer, in the same fucking apartment complex as us. the happy feeling over him being so close didn’t last. his wife (then-girlfriend) was…. nice. we tried not to get attached because we thought it wouldn’t last, like usual. i think i was 15 or 16 at the time.

we ended up moving in with my stepdad, who lived about 45 minutes away. my dad ended up moving in with his wife. we lived an hour away from him, i think. we stopped seeing him as often because the problems only continued to grow. his wife only encouraged him and blindly took his side in everything, too.

about 2 weeks before my 18th birthday. my father took my brother and i to the movies. he brought up how close my birthday was and asked if we wanted to go out to dinner to celebrate. we said yes, of course. he asked if his wife could come, since they had just gotten married about a week ago. i said yes, of course. i didn’t mind sharing the celebration. i remember excitedly telling my mom about it the second we got home.

a couple days before my birthday, my father texts to confirm the plans…… suddenly, we aren’t celebrating my birthday. no, no, the dinner was to celebrate their marriage and my father’s new office, and it “just so happened” that my birthday was around the same time, so we were celebrating that, too. he denied it when we said the whole dinner was planned because of my birthday, even though my whole household remembered it being that way. i cancelled the plans.

my cat got really sick right after my birthday. it was just a stomach bug that she recovered from within a day after taking her to the vet and getting her rehydrated (plus some appetite stimulants), but we thought for a minute that it might be her time. it was the first time i had to face the thought of death. my father tried to make new plans and, when i told him that we didn’t want to leave her even though we knew she was okay, he didn’t care. zero empathy. we never made any plans after that.

i think i’ve only seen him once since that movie. august 2021. he stopped by to drop something off for my brother earlier this year, stayed for a few minutes to talk to us. we hugged, i cried after he left.

my phone’s been having issues for some months now. it can’t charge properly. my mom and stepdad bought me a wireless charger that fixed that issue, but when my brother and i messaged our father about getting new phones (since my bro was also having issues with his), my father decided to say no and accuse us of only coming to him for money.

mind you, paying for our phones and making sure we had working phones was literally the last promise he made to us. he never paid child support, so he and my mom worked out a deal. he pays her car insurance until she has a paid off car, he pays for my bro’s and my phones, she forgives the rest of the several thousand dollars he owes her. he took her car on the first say of my senior year of high school. he refuses to get us new phones unless we pay for it.

i’m aware of how spoiled i sound. my phone works just fine, even if it is slower and has a broken charging point. my issue isn’t with that… it’s just the fact that he’s managed to break every. single. promise. he’s ever made to us. not a single one has been kept. not one. my mom told him she’d take care of it and us, like she always has. he’s just paying for the insurance until we get new phones atp.

i sent him a message pouring my heart out. a lot of it was pent-up anger from years of trying and trying, giving him chance after chance, and getting zero results. he read the message and didn’t respond. a couple days later, i sent him another. i just felt defeated at that point. i begged and begged him to finally care, and what do i get in response?

“I understand what you’re saying. Things are not always as they seem. Maybe one day we can sit down and truly listen and understand each other but it won’t be in a text. I love you no matter what you might think or feel.”

right. yeah. “maybe one day” AKA “when i feel like dealing with this” which is never. i cry and beg him to change… and his response is to say that MAYBE one day we’ll deal with it. and he moved on. my first message was 1,623 words. my second was 784. and i got jack shit in return.

it doesn’t matter what i say or do. he’s destroyed my self-confidence. he’s the source of my insane abandonment and attachment issues. i’m convinced no man will ever love me because of him – if my own father can’t, then why would anyone else? i get so stressed out and worried that it makes me sick; my family thinks i have ulcers, and he’s the #1 trigger of them. i’ve had panic attacks over him. i’ve thrown up from it. my mom said my depression getting so much worse is probably linked to him.

and, despite all the bullshit…. i’m still staring at my phone debating on texting him happy birthday. wondering if i should reach out and console him over the marriage he destroyed. i don’t want him to be alone, even if it is his own doing. i’m terrified of something happening to him. what if he has a health issue or injury and needs someone to call 911? what if he’s depressed? what if it gets so bad that he kills himself? what if he keels over and dies tomorrow? what if, what if, what if… it’s all i can think about.

my family says me worrying over him despite it all just means i’m a good person. their primary concern if my father taking advantage of me – of my kindness and my concern for him. my brother has him blocked, he’s not giving our father any more chances. i know i shouldn’t. he’ll just throw me away once he finds another woman, which he probably already has, considering he cheated on his wife in the first place. he has that habit; messaging other women when he senses a relationship going south or gets bored. moving on before it’s even over so he doesn’t have to face loneliness.

i don’t know how to feel. my dad’s wife reached out to my mom to clear the air and apologize. my brother celebrated the split with his friends. my stepdad said it was deserved. i agree, but……. i just can’t stop worrying. about everything. i wish i could. my father doesn’t deserve the tears i’m still shedding, or the lump and bile building in my throat, or the tightness in my chest, or the space in my thoughts… i hate it. i don’t know what to do anymore.

3 notes · View notes

strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years ago

Text

Part Six. Movies and Speedruns

warnings: swearing, many memes word count: 3.8k (not including pictures) (wow okay ash pop off!)

behind the screen (irl!dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: LETS ALL JUST AGREE TO NOT LOOK AT THE DATES ON TWEETS AND STUFF BC SOME CHAPTERS ARE SO SCUFFED WITH DATES!!!! JUST KNOW THIS STORY STARTS MID NOVEMBER!!!!!!!! (in a world where covid doesn’t exist btw)

**********

**********

Unknowingly and unintentionally, Y/n let out a big sigh as she poured a glass of water.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" Naomi asked gently, coming up behind her and hugging her tightly.

"Peter."

Naomi hummed, a sign that she was waiting for Y/n to lead the conversation so she could follow because if it were up to Naomi, she would immediately start trash-talking Peter and she wasn't sure if that was the vibe right now or not.

Y/n shook her head in disbelief as she jumped up to sit on the counter. "He got so mad when he found out I slept over at Karl's."

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I wish you would just cut him off completely."

"I don't know. I know I should but... part of me wonders if he could ever go back to how he was when I met him. I would probably date that guy again but not who he turned out to be."

Naomi looked horrified. "No. You sound like you're considering hearing him out. No, is that a joke? He's a bad person."

"I'm not," Y/n reassured. "I'm just thinking hypothetically. Probably because I miss having someone..."

"Y/n, you have a ton of thirsty people in your mentions. If you really want someone that bad, just scroll through, land on one and I bet they're a million times better than that sack of burned potatoes."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled lightly. "Most of those are jokes."

"Not all of them," she teased.

"I know you're going to tell me anyway so just say it. Who specifically do you think isn't joking?"

"Dream," Naomi sang.

"Okay, crazy." Y/n reached over, staying seated on the counter as she grabbed a bowl from a cabinet on her left. She then leaned all the way right, reaching as far as she could, but couldn't quite grab a cereal box from the top of the refrigerator.

Naomi rolled her eyes as she helped, handing Y/n the box. She even went the extra step to get Y/n a spoon and the milk because she was that nice. "I'm not joking. Neither is he. Karl and I have talked about it and we both agree."

Y/n paused at her friend's words, her hand hovering over the milk that Naomi held out for her. "You guys gossip about my love life?"

Naomi set the milk next to Y/n, tired of holding it out for her. "Of course? Like we don't do that about Karl? Or you and him about me?"

She couldn't argue there.

"Karl says there's a different vibe from Dream when you join calls and I believe it. I mean, I've seen it during streams myself so I can only imagine how much more obviously in love with you he is during private calls.

"That 'vibe' is Karl's delusional mind creating things. He's too scared to talk to cameragirl so he's projecting onto Dream and I."

"Yeah, okay," Naomi agreed sarcastically.

Y/n huffed. "Besides, he's in Florida. I'm in North Carolina, in case you weren't aware."

"So you're saying if you lived in the same state, you'd date him?"

"I didn't say that." She honestly had never thought of it. Sure she liked hanging out with Dream and her stomach got butterflies when he talked directly to her and he made her smile harder than anyone ever had and he—

And she didn't like him like that. She had only officially met the guy like a week and a half ago and she didn't know what he looked like. There was no way you could catch feelings for someone without seeing them.

Naomi's expression fell again. "Distance doesn't matter, anyway."

"I swear if you say something about George I will slap you," she threatened through a smile and Naomi gave her an innocent grin back.

"If you're lonely, get on Tinder, not Peter. Or get on Dream. I have no qualms with that."

"Peter isn't even an option, Naomi." Y/n sighed, ignoring the comment about Dream. "Also," she swallowed the last of her cereal and set the bowl down with a clank. "I'm gonna tell Peter I don't want to be friends anymore. Dream and George can be added to the list of Peter haters."

"You talked to them about it?"

She nodded. "You know how I have little gossip sessions with George? Well, Dream was there too this time."

"Well, of course Dream would hate Peter. We've established that he likes you."

"No, no, you and Karl delusionally hypothesized that."

Naomi tapped the counter methodically, a sign Y/n knew to signal that she was thinking hard. "Somehow, one day, I'll prove he does."

"Good luck."

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"Yes," Y/n perked up. "Go pick something, I'll get blankets."

She went to her room, grabbing her favorite cuddling blankets. She started leaving her room when she heard a ding on her open desktop, signaling that she had a call incoming from Discord. Cool timing.

"I'll be just a second, Naomi!" she called across the house before dropping the blankets on her bed and sliding her headset on, answering the call from Dream. "Hi, Dream!" She sat on her chair and tucked her knees to her chest.

"Hi," he greeted sweetly. "How are you doing today?"

"Much better than when we last talked. How are you?"

"Great now that I'm talking to you," he said smoothly. Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Are you busy?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My roommate and I are about to watch a movie."

"Ooh, what movie?"

"Not sure yet. Any suggestions?"

"Dark Knight. Unless you wanted me to say, like, Tangled or something."

"Yeah, girls' night is exclusively princess movies. Do you know nothing?"

"Apparently," he said with a laugh.

"What's up?"

"Oh, well, I was just gonna see if you wanted to be on call later with me, George, and Sapnap while I stream speedruns, but you're hanging out with your roommate so nevermind."

"Oh," Y/n deflated. "That sounds fun."

"I can push it back if you want to be part of it. If not, that's fine. I just thought it would be cool."

"No, no, no I really do want to, but I don't want you to have to push it back. When were you planning on starting?"

"In about an hour."

"I'll just join later if you're still playing. If that's okay that I come late."

"No. You have to be on time or not at all," he joked. "Of course that's fine," he assured. "And if I'm not playing anymore, you can still join... we usually talk for forever after we play games and it's fun. I would, er, we would love for you to hang out with us."

Y/n couldn't help the large smile on her face from staying even after they hung up and she walked back into the living room with her pile of blankets. She couldn't help it even when Naomi pointed it out and asked why she was so happy.

"Oh, uh, I've been invited to join Dream and them later for a stream."

"That vague answer doesn't warrant the shit-eating grin you have."

Y/n shrugged and cuddled more into her blankets. "What movie did you pick?"

*****

As the end credits rolled across the screen, Y/n yawned and looked over to Naomi in the dark. She was out like a light. Y/n stood up and made sure Naomi was covered in the blanket and she had a pillow. She crept back to her room and slid her headphones on, pulling up Discord where she saw the three boys' names still in a voice call.

She pulled up Twitch on her second monitor and looked for Dream's stream. It was already about an hour in. She clicked on it and her headphones echoed with the sound of George and Sapnap laughing like they said the funniest thing in the world.

"Shut up," Dream muttered. "Guys, what were the coords for the portal? Seriously, come on."

"Nobody tell him," George joked.

"George!"

"Where's Bugsyyyy?" Sapnap whined. "I want her to make fun of you with us."

"Half the stuff we're making fun of him for is about his big fat crush on her so..."

"George!" Dream yelled again. "No, it's not!"

Y/n smiled as she heard that, knowing it was a joke but laughing at the way Dream laughed at the accusation. She knew it wasn't serious or else they wouldn't talk about it on stream. George and Sapnap teased a lot, but certainly, they wouldn't out someone's crush in front of a hundred thousand viewers live.

"Oh!" Sapnap spoke out loud as George laughed loudly, both reading the text at the same time. "Speaking of..."

Dream waited for either of the two boys to elaborate but neither of them offered one. "What happened?"

"Bugsy texted us," George said off-handedly, typing a response to her. "She's coming in a second."

"Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?" Sapnap laughed.

"You guys have a groupchat?"

"Aw, jealous?" George asked.

Y/n joined at that moment, the first sentence coming from her Discord instead of Twitch being from Sapnap saying, "Would it make you more jealous to know our group name is Bugsy's Boys?"

"No, Sapnap, that's the one with Karl," George corrected. "The one with just you, me, and her is Bugsy's Boyfriends."

"WhAT?"

"I still don't approve of that, by the way," Y/n commented.

"Bugsy!!" Sapnap giggled happily. "You're finally here!"

"BUGSY!" George cheered.

"Hi guys!" Y/n laughed at the enthusiasm she was greeted with. "Hi, Dream!"

There was a few seconds of silence before, "Dream!!" George yelled right before the death screen appeared on the Twitch tab still opened on Y/n's right screen. "You idiot, what are you doing?! Why did you throw that run??"

She covered her mouth with the hoodie collar and laughed. "Off to a great start, bud."

"NO!" Dream yelled, knocking something, or somethings, off his desk. "Noooo! I didn't throw it, George, I FELL! Oh, that was going to be such a good run."

"What happened? How did you miss that huge ravine?" George asked while laughing. "It was literally right in the open. You didn't even try to use your water bucket."

"I-I was... I was distracted."

"By what? The completely open field with nothing blocking your vision?" Sapnap criticized with a laugh as well.

Y/n giggled to herself before letting her eyes trail to his chat, which was filled with the same accusations and guesses.

user5: BUGSY!

user2: DISTRACTED BY BUGSYS VOICE

user4: imagine saying hi so cutely that you make a man fall into a ravine

user1: are they dumb? obviously bugsy saying hi made his brain short-circut

user6: guys stop it wasn't bc she said hi. it was the g i g g l e

user3: DISTRACTED BY BUGSY!!!!

user8: HI BUGSY

user10: how to kill a man: hire bugsy to giggle and say hi directly to him

Y/n immediately blushed and covered her face again. She really had a habit of hiding even when no one could see her.

"Oh my gosh," Dream groaned, leaving the world and starting a new one. "Oh. My. Gosh. That's so annoying. I was doing so good."

"Oh," Sapnap laughed. "I understand now."

"What? What did I miss?" George asked.

"Just read chat," Sapnap explained. "They have the answer. Dream, your chat is so smart. Thanks for solving the mystery, chat!"

"No, they aren't ri— that isn't true!" Dream defended. "Chat, shut up."

"You sure?" Y/n asked teasingly, watching as his character paused when she started talking. Was she really making him this flustered just by talking? Surely not. He was just playing into the joke. He continued playing without saying anything, which made George and Sapnap laugh more.

The subject eventually changed and the atmosphere quickly became more relaxed and chill. Tonight was not a feral night like George had texted in all caps.

"Hey George," Y/n started, biting on her hoodie string with a smile because she knew Naomi would hear this when she watched the VOD the next day. "My roommate says hello."

"Oh my gosh," he muttered, making her laugh. "Let it go."

"Wow, I guess that's one way to treat your fans..."

"Fine," he sighed. "Tell her I say hello."

"Well, not if you don't mean it," Y/n teased.

"Yeah, George, you sound so unenthusiastic?" Sapnap asked.

"He's just flustered," Dream commented. "It's okay George, you can have feelings."

"Dream, you fell into a ravine because Bugsy said hi."

"Oh, come on! That's not—I just— I missed the jump! That's it!"

"I'm not flustered or unenthusiastic, I'm just tired, okay?" George explained, ignoring Dream, a yawn spilling out of him to prove it.

Y/n smiled. "Well, you could always let me give her your number if you really want..."

"No. If she had Discord you could give her that but not my phone number."

"Wait, really?" Y/n gasped. "Seriously?"

George laughed lightly. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

"YES! Okay, a huge win for the girls. Well, a huge loss for the fangirls but a huge win for the girls of this apartment."

"Oh my gosh," he muttered and she could practically see him rubbing his face in embarrassment.

"I'll send you her hashtag when she makes one so you know who to add back."

"She's going to make an account just to talk to George?" Sapnap giggled.

"Yes, dude!" Y/n defended. "She at least wants to be his friend, let her shoot her shot!"

Dream ended the steam soon after, not being able to focus enough to beat the end on any of his runs. He had streamed for just under two hours so he seemed to be getting tired as well. George went to bed soon after and after 20 minutes of talking with Sapnap and Dream, Sapnap mysteriously disappeared.

Y/n was about to leave as well, not wanting Dream to feel obligated to stay on the call with her when he spoke up.

"Does Naomi actually like George?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Then I want him to accept her love."

Y/n laughed. "How is he with long-distance relationships?"

"Well, he and I do just fine..." Dream joked. "Oh, not what you meant. I don't know, you guys are the ones that talk about each other's love lives apparently."

"You're still bitter about that?"

"Yes!"

"Suck it up," she laughed. "Naomi would do probably anything to date him so I doubt distance is a problem for her."

"George's sleep schedule is completely messed up, so the time difference wouldn't matter too much. And when he comes to America they can meet in person."

"Wait, he's coming to America?" Y/n gasped happily. "When?"

"There's no set date, but yeah eventually. He'll probably just come to Florida but we've all talked about having a huge meetup with a lot of our friends."

"Oh... cool..."

"Bug? You know you'd be invited to that, right?"

"Oh, really?" she smiled.

"Of course. You're part of the group now."

"Sick," she muttered to herself, but he heard.

"Bug, you're one of my favorite people, do you know that?"

She blushed. "Really?"

"Really."

"You barely know me, Dream."

"Yeah, well, I know enough to know that I'm sorta attached to you."

"Attached to me? In what way?"

He suddenly sounded nervous as if his brain caught up with what his mouth was saying. "I don't know, nevermind."

"No, Dream, what do you mean?" her voice was soft and understanding and it made him feel safe.

"I just... I don't know. I care about you a lot. We met only, what, like a week or two ago, and I already worry about you a lot. Playing games doesn't feel the same anymore unless you're playing with us."

"To be fair, we have been tweeting at each other for much longer than a week or two."

"Yeah, that's true. But it's not the same as actually talking to you."

She smiled shyly. "I care about you a lot too, Clay." His name sounded strange as if it suddenly made everything much more serious. "Sorry, that just kinda slipped. I won't call you Clay if you don't want me to—"

"No, it's okay, it, uh, I like hearing you... say it. But, uh, you can call me whatever you want."

She smiled widely at the nervousness in his voice and the hard pounding of her heart. "I've heard from multiple people that you never stop talking about me."

He laughed timidly. "Maybe. Do you talk about me?"

"Ask Karl," she giggled. "My guess is yes." Her stomach felt tingly and her hands shook lightly. Why did she feel like this all of a sudden? It was late, she reasoned. That, or it was because Naomi had planted the seed of curiosity in her mind. Did Dream like her? No... right?

"I'm sorry if my chat was making you uncomfortable at the beginning when I died..."

"Don't worry, I wasn't uncomfortable."

"It was true, by the way," he paused, "what they were saying. Just... in case you were wondering."

Y/n couldn't wipe the smile off her face, which was growing painful at this point. "What, my voice makes your brain short-circut? That was one comment I saw."

Dream laughed. "More like your entire presence, but... yeah I guess so."

How is someone supposed to respond to something like that? The sweetness in his voice almost made her sick but in a good way.

And just like when he named her Minecraft flower something sweet knowing that no one would see it, why was he still playing up the joke when no one was around?

Not knowing what to say, she decided to let him in on a little secret. "If it matters, you're one of my favorite people too."

"It does."

There was a deathly moment of tense silence as if both of them were screaming to say something but neither did.

"Basically, if we do have a meet-up, I'll sue you if you don't come."

Y/n laughed. "My pockets are empty, sir, so... good luck."

He laughed and it was music to her ears.

"Are you not nervous to show everyone your face? Like, if or when we do all get together."

"Not really. Especially not if it's just to our friends. Are you?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Why?"

She sighed. "I'm sure people have me painted in a specific way in their heads and I've seen fanart of me that is way different and way more attractive than I am. I just don't want to let anyone down by not living up to their expectations."

"Bug," Dream said softly, "you couldn't let anyone down."

"You don't know that."

"You can't disappoint real friends or real fans with the way you look."

"To be clear, Dream," she laughed nervously, afraid she would sound conceited, "I don't think I'm ugly. I like the way I look. I'm happy with me. But that doesn't mean I can't still let people down."

"Different than expected doesn't mean disappointing."

His words smacked her in the gut. He was right. Reality and imagination are very different. Neither has to be better or worse than the other. She could look the complete opposite of how someone expects but that doesn't mean they will be either disappointed OR pleased. And why does it matter anyway? If she likes how she looks, who cares what other people think?

"It's also scary to think of getting recognized in public," she admitted. "Being recognized from the start is one thing because it starts off slowly with only a few people knowing your face but if the first time people see your face is when you have millions of fans, the recognition would be overwhelming."

"That's true. I don't think I would mind that much, though."

"Of course not, you're you."

"What does that mean?"

"You like the spotlight."

"I guess. Not all the time."

"Well, what about you?" she asked. "Are you afraid of people knowing what you look like?"

"No. I want to do a face reveal soon but I don't know how I would do it. I want to do it at some kind of event or something but I don't know."

"I need to schedule around when you do it because you'll break the internet. Give us content creators a warning so we can prepare to not get viewers for a week."

Dream laughed. "Oh come on."

"Twitter would just be full of the same picture of you in every single tweet."

"It won't be that big of a deal."

"Something tells me your millions and millions of subs say otherwise."

"Whatever," he said. "As if you wouldn't break the internet too."

"Maybe for a day or two. But you'd break everything for weeks."

"Sure." There was a long pause before Dream softly said, "Karl's lucky."

"How so?"

He didn't speak for a moment, almost like he wasn't prepared for that question because he didn't mean to be heard. "I wish I could know you the way he does."

"You could. He and I knew each other in person first so it's different. You and I could get there eventually."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I trust you a scary amount for someone I met weeks ago."

"I didn't mean to sound like I'm trying to pressure you into showing me your face or telling me your name. I didn't mean like he gets to know what you look like and I don't. I meant, like, I wish we could hang out in person because I prefer that over talking in Discord."

"I get it, Clay. I feel the same way," Y/n said softly. There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again.

"Oh, gosh, it's already four."

Y/n's head snapped to look at her clock, which read 3:57am. "Already?" she whispered. "Dang."

As if acknowledging the time changed the atmosphere, it suddenly felt like 4am. Her back ached from her shifting in her chair so much over the last few hours, never being able to find a good position. The house was eerily quiet and all she heard was the low hum of the heater. The house felt stale, not used to its occupants being so alert and awake at that hour.

"I should probably go to bed..."

"Yeah, me too," Dream agreed. His voice sounded tired. "Thanks for joining us, it was really fun with you."

"Thanks for inviting me. Sorry I made you die. Hopefully you'll still let me back again."

"You're always invited to barge into my streams. Actually."

Y/n giggled again and mentally slapped herself for sounding like a little kid. "Well, you too. You can interrupt my streams anytime."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Goodnight, Clay."

"Goodnight, Bug."

**********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

**********

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @peteysgf @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade

#rpf #real person fic #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #clay x reader #smau #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #social media fic #social media au

931 notes · View notes

yougottalovebuckybarnes · 3 years ago

Text

Lovely (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Hello, friends! I just want to begin by talking about something serious real quick. As this story mentions concepts such as depression, please take care of yourself. If you need to skip this one and read my next update (or any of the others on my master list), please do so. It is a heavy topic, and as someone who is living with depression, I understand how hard it is to deal with even the idea of it. With that said, please enjoy, and know that you are loved!

Quick second A/N note: I am planning to update "Cold" for one final part, but it probably won't be out till later this week at the earliest.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Sad themes, tiny bits of angst

========

Thought I found a way

Thought I found a way out

But you never go away

So I guess I gotta stay now

My whole soul ached with the promise of a new day, my energy drained even as I opened my eyes for the first time that morning. If I had it my way, I would never have to leave the comfort of my soft sheets and cozy comforter. But, of course, life would never slow down enough for that to happen.

I turned my head to the side, glancing at the alarm clock that had yet to go off. The red numbers glared at me harshly through the darkness, only half-past six. It had taken till three to finally drift into a restless sleep, never truly finding peace after losing consciousness. It was as if I had never slept at all.

The familiar bottle of medication sat next to my alarm clock, almost taunting me as I gazed wearily at it. I should’ve embraced it as a comfort, a means to an end to the state I was in. But it had been nothing less than a menace. Headaches, insomnia, lack of appetite… doing anything but chasing away the monster that followed me everywhere I went.

But, as my alarm finally went off to start my day, I reluctantly took another pill from the bottle and swallowed, chasing it down with a cool drink of water. Perhaps today was the day that things would be different. Perhaps today was the day that I would be okay again.

Oh, I hope someday I’ll make it out of here

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

Need a place to hide, but I can’t find one near

Wanna feel alive, outside I can’t fight my fear.

My hope was naive at best, and idiotic at worst. It was squashed in only a number of hours, feeling myself fall over the edge again while listening to Steve debrief a previous mission that I frankly couldn’t bring myself to care about. My eyes fell to my fingers in my lap, as they began to fidget, my right hand beginning to pick at the cuticles on my left hand. Another obnoxious habit that I had developed as of recent days.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

My head snapped up to find everyone staring at me silently, waiting for me to respond to whatever question was proposed. My cheeks burned scarlet at the sudden focus of attention on me.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Glad you could return back to Planet Earth. “ Steve’s voice was unamused and I had to resist flinching at its coldness as I held eye contact with him. “Pay attention. Your job is not to daydream. “

Oh, God, did I wish I was lost in my dreams. That would be a thousand times better than the emptiness that surrounded me now.

I nodded quickly, muttering a quick apology as Steve gave me one more glance before continuing to talk. A hand grabbed one of my own, interrupting my fidgeting, and I looked over to find Bucky’s attention focused on me. The concern in his eyes was almost heartbreaking, and I quickly but discretely shook my head, trying my hardest to shield him from this pain. It was unfair to put such a weight on the shoulders of one of my closest friends, especially after all he had gone through.

I was on my own with this.

I was alone in my own pain. I had to be.

But fuck, was it lonely.

Isn’t it lovely, all alone

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces, skin to bone

Hello, welcome home

My fingers curled around the edges of my sink, my eyes rimmed red with tears as I looked at myself in the mirror before me. I could not even recognize myself anymore, a shattered reflection of the woman I was only months earlier. Darkening shadows under my eyes were evidence of my lack of sleep, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the others would notice. They couldn’t notice.

I released one of my hands from the sink to grip the anti-depressant bottle that I had brought with me to the bathroom. My bottom lip began to tremble as I stared at it, almost glaring at the remainder of the tiny pills that were in it. “Why did you fail me when I needed you most?”

My therapist's words echoed in my mind, repeating that it would take time for them to work effectively. But with each passing day since beginning to take these damn things, nothing changed. And with each day that slipped by, my hope disappeared with it.

Walkin’ out of town

Lookin’ for a better place

Something’s on my mind

Always in my headspace

The tower was quiet for what felt like the first time in forever. Tony had offered to take everyone out for dinner, an invitation that never came to me. But I suppose that wasn’t too much of a surprise these days.

I quietly walked into the kitchen, flicking on the light to search for any type of substance I could find before the others came home. It felt easier to be tucked away and out of sight unless it was necessary. Better, even. It did not feel like it would matter much if I disappeared for good.

The bottle of medication was in my right hand, and I gave it one last look before opening the trash and throwing it inside. There was no use in taking something that failed me time and time again. My gaze turned from the trash can to a bottle of wine that sat on the counter, a couple of wine glasses sitting nearby. Perhaps this could comfort me, even if it was a temporary fix.

Not too long after, I found myself sitting outside on the balcony, wine glass in hand as I gazed up at the stars. Even in a city as bright and loud as New York, I could always find comfort in the darkness of the night sky. Quiet, peaceful, even empty sometimes. But always beautiful.

“I see you have finally emerged from hiding.”

I turned to find Bucky standing by the door. A frown adorned his face as he watched me refill my cup.

“I suppose I have.” I shrugged and took a sip of wine, not able to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you were home.”

“And I didn’t know you were hiding this from us.” My head snapped up to see him holding my meds in his hand. His expression was nothing less than devastated, causing my heart to break even more than it already had. “Hiding it from me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I sighed softly, my tears beginning to build as he walked over to stand beside where I sat on the couch.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? You were drowning and none of us were there to rescue you!” His voice was upset and filled with disbelief, and I flinched with every word he spoke.

“Maybe I don’t deserve to be rescued, Bucky.” My voice cracked, and I couldn’t help the small sob that escaped my lips as I looked up at him. “Maybe this is where my story ends.”

“Do not ever say that again. “ His voice was firm, and the next thing I knew, my wine glass was pulled from my fingers and he was kneeling in front of me, grabbing my hands. My eyes focused on him wearily. “Do you hear me? Your story is not evening close to being over. “

“Then why does it feel like it is?” I shook my head gently, biting back another sob as I gazed down at him. “Nothing is working, and I am tired of having to fight, Bucky. I cannot live this way anymore. “

“Then let me help you,” Bucky spoke softly, his left hand moving to cup my face. His thumb stroked my cheek, catching a tear that had slowly slipped free. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m devastated that you had to in the first place.“

“I can’t ask you-“

“Yes, you can.” He stood up and sat next to me on the couch. A small smile grew on his face. “We can call it even for all the times you helped me through my nightmares.”

I let out a small laugh, moving my hands to wipe away my tears gently.

“Please, doll. Let me in. And let me help you.”

“Always,” I whispered, and with that single word, he moved closer, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his chest.

But I know someday I’ll make it out of here

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

Need a place to hide, but I can’t find one here

Wanna feel alive, outside I can’t fight my fear

My eyes closed softly, feeling relieved at the warmth of his lips against my forehead. As hard as it was to believe, this was not the end of my story. As long as I had Bucky, I knew that it never would. And I was incredibly grateful for that.

=======

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #buckybarnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky angst #marvel imagine

55 notes · View notes

amyscascadingtabs · 3 years ago

Text

darling, you should know i’m a helicopter

a healthy dose of hurt/comfort with added baby snuggles, because i truly felt for amy in this episode. it's been a long time since i just wrote something quick but i hope you enjoy! 🥰

oh and if you want a picture this is the pajamas mac is wearing, okay cool

read on ao3

Amy doesn’t mean for it to be a breakdown.

She’s not surprised when Mac’s familiar piercing cries wake her up again a mere hour and a half after she’s fed him and put him to sleep for the night. As miraculous as Charles’ methods seemed, she still believes some babies are just fussy, and her son is one of them. It’s the only logical conclusion she’s come to after six, eight, ten, and twelve weeks all passed without any notable improvement in Mac’s ability to sleep longer stretches, and now he’s five months old and defying every single baby book and website that informs her he should be well settled into a sleeping schedule by now. He’s just fussy, or a high need baby, or whatever other term with needlessly negative connotations there is to make Amy feel like she's doing a bad job. It’s who he is and it’s what she’s used to, so she just scoots to the edge of the bed and picks him up from his travel cot in her still hurting arms before he can wake up the rest of the house.

On another night, she might have tried to walk around with him first, play some white noise or bounce on the yoga ball with him, but she’s tired and dejected and scared to wake up anyone else, so she goes for the easy option. The buttons of her pink striped pajama shirt are easily accessible for this exact purpose, and resting Mac’s head in the crook of her right arm, she gently guides him to her chest and exhales in relief as the crying comes to a stop. At least this, she can do, and the idiots who write advice pages about how you shouldn’t get your baby used to falling asleep at the breast have probably never even met a real baby.

She leans back against the pillows when she’s sure Mac’s found a good latch and she can hear his content grunts and swallows. His hand has found a steady grip on her newly washed hair, probably getting drool in it again, but she can’t be bothered to try and unclench his little iron fist when he’s finally happy. Watching his perfect chubby cheeks as they hollow and fill, stroking the soft baby curls that are getting lighter and more like Jake’s every day, Amy’s overcome with another wave of that crazy all-consuming love that keeps surprising her, and then she’s the one who can’t stop her tears from falling.

The only thing she ever wants is to keep him safe. In a world of pandemics and injustice, where the news gives her anxiety attacks more days than not and everything she thought she knew keeps changing, at least she can make sure Mac has his every need attended to. It’s been her life while staying home for the past five months, and she likes to think she’s handled it well all things considered, but after Charles’ nip tips and three-hour imprisonment of her child, Amy can’t help but feel like she’s done it all wrong.

Her son is at his happiest when she can’t bother him. Once again, her high-strungness and failure to just be chill have proved her unfit for motherhood. She’s too anxious, too stressed, too overprotective, and the baby in her arms looking up at her with the warmest, roundest brown eyes she’s ever known is seriously unlucky and he doesn’t even know it.

She doesn’t know where the negative thoughts are coming from, but sometimes breastfeeding has this effect on her – another sign, the self-hating voice in her head whispers – and it’s been an exhausting day, so she lets the tears come and hopes Jake is too deeply asleep to notice her mini-breakdown. Why is this so hard for her, and why can’t she just relax? How come Mac seems to be the only child she’s heard of whose sleeping habits at home have gotten worse and not better after his first few weeks at daycare, and how come even the most gentle of sleep training methods break her heart when Mac cries like he’s been abandoned?

She’s wiping her tears with her free hand before wiping Mac’s cheeks with the muslin blanket when Jake begins to stir next to her, and even that makes her feel guilty, because he’s had a long day, too. He rubs his hand against her upper arm as if sensing that something’s off, yawning as he pushes himself up into a half-sitting position.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his softest sleepy voice, a worried crease appearing on his forehead. “Are you okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she tries, but her voice breaks, so she shakes her head. Mac is starting to pull away, so she unlatches him and sighs when she realizes that the shirt she’d packed clean already has milk stains on it. She rests him upright with his head on her shoulder instead, patting him on the back and trying to stop the tears that won't stop coming.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Is it Charles again? Because I really think he felt bad, but I’m happy to tell him off again if you want me to.”

“It's not Charles.” Amy sighs. “Well, it kind of is, but it's more that... I can't believe the best Mac has ever slept was when I wasn't even there. I try everything and nothing works, and Charles straight-up locks him in a room, and that makes him fall asleep? It feels like more proof I wasn't meant to do this,” she says, and she can see him immediately opening his mouth to protest. “Like even Charles is a more natural mom than I am.”

Mac makes a hiccuping noise, spitting up a little bit of milk on the muslin blanket Amy put on her shoulder. Jake wipes it away before laying an arm around them, half-hugging them both.

“No offense, but that's the worst lie I’ve heard today, and that's including the stuff Terry said about me.” He strokes Mac’s back through the blue pajamas with little moons and clouds with faces as he begins to whimper again. “You're the best mom to him ever, Ames. You do everything for him. You literally kicked down a door to get to him today. Why do you think someone would be better?”

Amy sighs as she adjusts Mac in her arms, swaying him slightly and being surprised when it actually makes him go quiet. He has his eyes closed, fists up in front of his face, and just the thought that she could be doing something wrong by him makes her heart shatter.

“Because I try too hard,” she whispers, just loud enough for Jake to hear. “When he was locked in by Charles, I couldn't check on him, and it was the best nap he's ever had. All because I worry too much about him. Because I don't know what else to do. I want to keep him safe, but instead I’m somehow not doing enough and doing too much at once.”

She tickles that adorable baby chin with her index finger. Mac grips it, bringing it to his mouth with determination, and it makes both parents laugh. Why he likes this but rejects every single kind of pacifier Buy Buy Baby had to offer, she’ll never understand.

“He knows you love him,” Jake says, as if that was an obvious fact. He likes to claim he can read Mac’s mind about these things, a skill which Amy thinks would have been a lot more useful if it had also worked to figure out what it is their son needs during their worst nights of crying. It's what she needed to hear right now, though, and she leans her head on his shoulder as a silent thank you. “And just because he might be a little introverted sometimes doesn't mean he doesn't love you like crazy, too. I mean, that's what you tell me when I interrupt you when you're reading, right?”

She smiles. “I guess.”

“I know you worry,” he continues. “But just because Mac likes his peace and quiet sometimes doesn’t mean you’re doing a bad job. Maybe we could even let him start sleeping in his nursery at night, you know, just see what happens?”

Just the mention of not having her son within arm’s length at night makes Amy freeze and a million nightmare scenarios flash through her head, and Jake laughs a little as he feels her shoulders tense. “Okay, I can tell that was too big of a step and you’re freaking out, so maybe not. But one day?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she decides, carefully trying to pull her finger out of her son’s mouth. “Thanks, babe. I just really want to go back to sleep.”

Mac’s eyes are fluttering, a telltale sign that he’s starting to fight his sleep, stretching his legs and letting out the most adorable of baby-sighs. Jake runs his thumb over his son’s forehead and nose in an attempt to make him relax, and shakes his head as Mac only forces his eyes open again.

“He’s lucky he’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“He’s lucky we love him,” Amy mumbles, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah. I mean, who needs a full night’s sleep anyway, right?” Jake says, and Amy just stares at him with a blank expression.

“I know you’re joking, but I would almost leave him in Charles’ hands for a night again if it meant I got a four-hour stretch, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah.” Jake grimaces. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now I’m kind of thinking about it too.”

Thinking that maybe Mac will repeat his magical streak of at least managing to fall asleep on his own, Amy tries to put him down in the cot again, but she’s barely moved before he lets out another unhappy cry. She lifts him upright against her chest again, biting her lip and trying not to feel defeated as she starts the hushing and rocking all over again.

“Hey, I can take him,” Jake says, reaching for him. “You need to sleep so you can stop crazy-spiraling, and I’ve barely held him all day. I’ll walk around with him outside for a while, that might do it.”

It’s not the typical declarations of love they used to share, but as he puts the muslin blanket on his shoulder before taking Mac and getting out of bed with him, Amy’s confident that she’s never loved her husband more. This, right here, watching him with sleep-tousled curls in just his t-shirt and pajama pants as he adjusts his son and bounces him slightly in his arms while the crying turns into a more gentle fussing, is far hotter than any sex dream about Sanjay Gupta could ever be.

#my writing #b99 #peraltiago #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #jake x amy fanfiction #here it is i hope you enjoy!!!

83 notes · View notes

weareallstoriesintheend · 4 years ago

Text

Freedom - (Reader x Zemo)

Zemo and a guard at The Raft have struck up an unlikely friendship

Prompts: Taken from @prompts-in-a-barrel

Word Count: 1,641

Warnings: None; takes place after The Falcon And The Winter Soldier (Season 1) so some small spoilers!

Part 1 of the Escape Series

You had arrived at work early today; an odd feeling nestled at the back of your mind was denying you sleep so you’d decided to clock in early. You were given your morning duties as you began the meticulous process of strapping yourself into the various components of your guard’s uniform; thankfully it was a slow morning– inmate checks only. Since The Raft currently only held three prisoners you presumed, with a small smile to yourself, that breakfast was on the cards nice and early today.

The Raft had several floors where prisoners could be kept and right now, for safety, each prisoner was kept in a cell on a separate floor. It was nice and quiet this early in the morning with only you and a few cleaners milling around the floors so you could take your time walking between each level.

It was early so Trish Walker and Willis Stryker were still fast asleep in their cells. Trish was curled up in her tight, protective ball as usual and Willis was sat up, head leaning against the metal wall behind him eyes tightly closed. A scan of the cell rooms, a glancing health check on each prisoner, check the locks and integrity of the cell glass and that’s another tick on the list.

You stopped, leaning against the cold metal wall of the stairwell checking your watch, an hour till breakfast. You were making your way through each prisoner reasonably leisurely for a number of reasons; one of those reasons had to do with who was housed on Level 3.

Working on an underwater containment facility didn’t really have too many perks, it often felt like you were a prisoner here yourself but it paid well so who were you to complain. Although, when you stopped to think about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen daylight. Every day was pretty much the same, which was until a new prisoner was brought to the facility by the Dora Milaje of Wakanda.

Baron Helmut Zemo had certainly livened things up around here, at least for you. He was kinder and calmer than anyone had expected him to be, given the stories that followed in his wake, and unlike the other two prisoners he held no contempt towards those in charge of his care. The guards on the other hand tended veer towards hate at his pretentious turns of phrase and his intelligence, you guessed this was because they didn’t like feeling less than someone being kept as a prisoner. But for you it provided some much needed entertainment. You would never admit it but listening to his deep gravelly tone tell you stories of Sovokia often brightened your day, sometimes you would even stay on shift well past the end of your working day to hear him speak of his family. Unable to stop him as his eyes clouded over with grief, there was so much more to this rich, cocky Baron than what met the eye. He’d often made you bets or promises of what he could provide for you if you were to help him leave this place; these offers always met with a scoff and roll of the eyes from you trying to hide how nervous it made you. He would sweeten his offers with soft nicknames and tell you how he would even marry you to give you the life, in his words, that you deserved.

You reached level 3, punching in the code to the heavy reinforced door; you walked in to see exactly what you had expected. Zemo was sitting up in bed, lights on, reading one of the few books he’d been allowed upon his arrival. The room was pretty much in darkness except for the dull lights on the ceiling and bright light of his cell illuminating him in front of you. He sat, leaning casually, in a blue inmate’s uniform. “Morning Zemo, how you are today?” you said cheerily as you approached the cell. You gave the room a quick scan and saw nothing amiss; you pulled out your report notebook from your pocket.

“What do you want?” he replied, voice so low it was almost a whisper. He seemed tired today; you guessed his mind was plagued again today so he hadn’t slept. The dark bags under his eyes gave that away.

“Just checking in. Are you okay? You haven’t tried to breach containment since last Tuesday.”

He chuckled in a low tone and carefully placed his book, open with the pages down, on the grey blanket beside him.

“Well… I have no reason to leave nor can I at present, therefore…” he shrugged to end his sentence. He curled his feet up under himself and shuffled to face you.

“You look tired milaya” he commented, studying your face with his classic tilted head. His eyes were squinted but were travelling over your face so intensely it made you squirm on your feet.

“Keep your pet names to yourself” you grumbled, writing your check-up report in your notebook.

“Ah of course, I always do forget you can speak Russian” he smiles as you roll your eyes. “So many skills you have Krasotka, wasted here I should think” You roll your eyes again, raising them from the page of your notebook to look at him, but you can’t help the small laugh you let out at the satisfied smirk on his face. Unfortunately it was at that moment your superior officer decided to arrive on the floor, catching you in the act of being just a little too friendly with a prisoner… again. He pulled you aside with a gesture of his head, you trundled after him knowing exactly what was coming.

For the next few minutes he gave you another lecture on proper protocol when talking to inmates. During his rant, with his back turned to Zemo, he couldn’t see the mocking faces being pulled at his words. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. The officer took your three inmate reports from you and sulked back off into the stairwell.

“Well he is pleasant as ever this morning” Zemo quipped as the door to the stairwell closed loudly. “You are going to get me in serious trouble one day Zemo” you tsk’d, tucking your notebook back into the pocket on your uniform.

“They don’t appreciate you. Not a single one of them.”

“You talk big for someone stuck in cell you know that right?”

“I’m just saying it as I see it. But you already know that, don’t you? That they’re only using you. That they’ll never accept you or your talents.”

“Me and my talents are leaving now.” You turned on your heel, making for the door.

“I see you. I accept you. I’ve offered you a place beside me before. The offer still stands. You would be valued. Cherished.”

You turned back around abruptly, unable to listen to him talk anymore “Don’t bullshit me. I’m not some fragile idiot you can manipulate to your side. You want to use me just the same as they do.”

“You’re wrong.” He said simply.

You eyed him cautiously “I know how this goes Zemo. I break you out of here and you run off leaving me to end up in my own cell. No thank you”

He smiled, chuckling quietly to himself as he rose off the bed and onto his feet; placing one hand on the glass he beckoned you over. You shook your head and didn’t move, but something in the way he was with you made you…intrigued. You didn’t want to play into his game but you’d seen him with other guards and, mostly, his words for you seemed sincere. He beckoned again and you stepped a little closer, still maintaining a distance despite him having no way of getting to you through the thick glass and bars on his cell.

“This is not what you think. You know what I can give you and you know I am right” he whispered, running his eyes over your body. You squirmed again, his gaze igniting something within you that was more confusing that uncomfortable.

“Oh really? Because I think I’m right, I’m not getting champagne on a private jet out of this. I’m getting a nice cushy cell, much like this one, for the rest of my life for breaking a terrorist out of prison!”

Zemo smiled and shook his head “Is that all you want? Champagne and a private jet? I can give you that and more, you know this. Have you ever joined the… what is you Americans call it? The mile high club” he laughed darkly at the swift, nervous shift of your expression.

“We’re done here” you retorted matter of factly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You spun on your heel once more, your quiet steps the only thing filling the void within the room.

As you reached out for the handle of the door his voice made you flinch, so loud in the potent silence, “Just think it over Krasivaya. The life I can give you would be so much more than what you give yourself day to day within the walls of this prison. I would say we both yearn for a little… freedom”

“Enough!” you shouted, voice echoing around the room.

He raised his hands in defeat and you watched as he flicked the radio on, a quiet crackle before a news channel began playing filling the painful stillness that had come over the room once more. He sat back down on the low bed and picked up his book, gently licked the top of his middle finger and used it to turn the page; he didn’t look up as he spoke “Just some food for thought”

#mcu #marvel #marvel fic #mcu fic #falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #baron zemo #zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #falcon and the winter solider spoilers #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x you #baron zemo x you

121 notes · View notes

satendou · 4 years ago

Text

⟼ makes the heart grow fonder

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous | 2/2

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime/reader/oikawa tooru

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: prequel to 365 days; everyone always calls paris the city of love, but love can come anywhere, especially the unlikeliest of places

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: pre-relationship, polyamory, fluff, kinda angsty, alcohol use

⇢ word count: 11375 (oops)

Oikawa was nothing if not a creature of habit. He woke up, texted the two of you, showered, ate, went to classes and left for practice, which had been nonstop since he arrived in San Juan. When he got home, he would text you and Iwaizumi-- if he remembered between eating and crashing-- letting you know how practice had gone.

Sometimes he would get home to find some endearing, supportive message from you, letting him know you were going to sleep but that he needed to eat or pay his phone bill. You knew him too well, even from across the globe, and it made him smile, the stinging pain of something missing never stronger than in those moments. It was something he could ignore most days, exchange it for the radiating heat of a ball meeting his palm and forget for a while, but when he was slapped in the face with reminders of what he’d left behind, they were almost impossible to deal with.

He didn’t get to talk with the two of you half as much as he wanted, the 12 hour time difference making it nearly impossible to sync your schedules up, but on the rare nights where everyone was still awake and not quite tired enough to fall asleep yet, he lit up in ways he’d never experienced when he lived with you.

It made him wonder how much he’d taken for granted.

He couldn’t deny that a part of him was jealous that the two of you got to stay together. That same selfish part of him had come close to picking up the phone and saying he was coming home multiple times after he arrived in Argentina, the feeling was so strong. But the other half, the part that was equally selfish in a different way, couldn’t give up his dreams, not when he’d worked so fucking hard to get there.

On those days, you seemed to know what he was thinking and either you or Iwaizumi, with near psychic accuracy, would call him on his bullshit and things would be okay for a while. Those days had slowly grown less frequent the longer he stayed away, but the jealousy had simply been replaced with longing.

So when you had mentioned a break from school that just happened to coincide with his very first game, he couldn’t resist. Besides, he wanted some familiar faces in the crowd, and who better than you and Iwaizumi? Or his family, but they hadn’t been able to swing it for a myriad of reasons.

Then you had said yes, which was why Oikawa was standing up on his tiptoes at the luggage carousel, trying to see over the people for a glimpse of familiar faces. If he wasn’t looking at the crowd, he was staring at his watch.

Your plane had landed nearly twenty minutes ago, so you should have already disembarked. So why weren’t the two of you there in his arms yet?

“Oi, Brattykawa, you’re looking the wrong way,” a familiar voice sniped from behind him, and he whirled around, nearly losing his balance in his excitement.

“_____! Iwa-chan!” he yelled, throwing his arms around your necks and sending you faltering backwards.

Only Iwaizumi’s strength kept the three of you up, his arm wrapped around your waist and legs braced under Oikawa’s weight.

“You damn idiot, quit making a scene,” he snapped, but only pushed his friend back far enough to rebalance before squeezing him tight, his fingers curled in the back of the thin t-shirt Oikawa wore.

Your free arm came up around him as well, not nearly as strong but just as familiar and welcome and even though you all secretly swore you wouldn’t cry, tears still spilled over. The feeling of relief, of being whole again was overwhelming, and you linked your fingers with theirs as you moved through the crowd. Oikawa carried one travel case, Iwaizumi the other, and you lugged the shared carry-on bag you had brought.

Coming out of the airport after a twenty hour flight was a bit jarring and, though the two of you had prepared for a few days in advance and even slept on the plane, you could still feel jet lag kicking in. San Juan time was directly opposite Japanese time, so though you had gotten on your plane in Tokyo in the pitch black, Oikawa had carefully planned the flights and layovers so that you had arrived early in the morning.

The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and you started sweating almost immediately.

“I can’t wait to show you guys around. But first, you’re probably hungry, right? There’s this cafe right around the corner from our apartment that has the most amazing churros I want you to try,” he rambled as the driver loaded your luggage in the trunk. Iwaizumi slid into the backseat beside you with Oikawa on your other side, all your fingers still linked together. “Oh but I guess we could go after you unpack. Don’t want you to have to drag your luggage everywhere.”

“Thank you for realizing, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi griped, and Oikawa laughed.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so excited for you guys to be here! It’s only been a few months but it feels like a part of me has been missing,” he said, and his fingers squeezed around yours tighter. It was exactly how you had been feeling since he left, like things were off kilter.

The conversation after that was mostly questions about the flights and the layovers, and how the jet lag was. The longer Oikawa watched and listened, the more he thought something was wrong.

It wasn’t...wrong wrong, it just seemed like there was something new and different to your interactions with Iwaizumi and vice versa. He would just have to keep an eye out for it, to see if he could discern what it was.

The apartment was the one Iwaizumi had picked out for him months ago, not that anyone was surprised. Usually when he suggested something, Oikawa took it without question.

As soon as the door was open, you were slammed with the familiar smell that you associated with Oikawa. That light and airy cologne permeated everything, like he had spritzed it everywhere, mixed with the detergent you used at home, or as close as he could get, you would guess. It was a double whammy-- you realized what you had been missing as soon as you got it again, and realized that when you left you would lose it.

It made you wonder what walking into your own apartment would be like.

Before you could get too lost down that train of thought, Oikawa put his hand to your back, leading you further in. Almost absently, Iwaizumi took your hand, letting Oikawa lead both of you to one of the large windows.

Light flooded the large combined kitchen/living room area. He had put curtains up, but they were currently tied back, leaving the windows exposed. The view was breathtaking, just high enough that it rose above most of the other buildings and gave you a long view of the city, marred by other highrises here and there.

He pointed out a large, strange dome shape in the distance, light reflecting off the top back into the city.

“That’s our stadium. I’ll show you around it later today, if we have time.” he said with a lopsided grin. “Anyway, your rooms are this way! You can pick which ones you want.”

His fingers linked with yours-- it seemed as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling your hand in his-- as he led you down the hall opening first one door and then the other. Both rooms filtered plenty of light, curtains tied up and exposing the decent sized rooms. A bed and dresser decorated each, but that was it. A simple beige color coated the walls and a ceiling fan spun slowly while the air conditioner kicked on. You set your bag down beside the bed and turned to face them again.

“I didn’t expect them to be this big,” you said, looking around. It was across from Oikawa’s, versus Iwaizumi’s, which was right across from the bathroom and closest to the kitchen.

“Sorry they’re so sparse. I figured I’d let you decorate them how you saw fit,” he said, leaning against the frame of the door. “The master is even bigger, but I said the same when I saw them the first time.”

Iwaizumi stood behind him, peering over his shoulder as you surveyed the room, close enough that Oikawa could feel his chest brush against his back. “Are you sure you should be giving these rooms away to just us? You’ll have other guests, won’t you?”

As nonchalant and almost coldly, he shrugged. “They can sleep in here when you aren’t, and there are hotels around the corner. But these rooms were never meant for anyone but you.”

With that, he steered Iwaizumi back down the hall to his room with you hot on his heels. Rifling through his closet, he threw two sets of light aqua sheets at you and Iwaizumi.

You stared at them for a moment, and then Iwaizumi coughed. “Did you pick these colors for a reason?”

Oikawa, busy restacking the things in his closet, stopped and gave him a quizzical look. “Uh, not really. Why?”

The two of you snickered behind your hands, sharing a knowing look before you held the package up higher. “Doesn’t this remind you of anything. A certain uniform, perhaps?”

The color faded from Oikawa’s face just before it all returned in force, a pretty shade of red covering his cheeks. His hand met his face with a loud smack, and he groaned. “I cannot believe I did that. I really did though, didn’t I?”

More snickering met his ears and his lips turned down in a pout. Before he could start to really get into it, you looked up at him and said, “It’s fine, Tooru. They’re very pretty anyway. I like them.”

Beside you, Iwaizumi sighed, his lips quirking up just the slightest bit. “They’ll do. You probably just closed your eyes and picked though, huh?”

Stomping his foot, Oikawa stuck his tongue out, pulling one eyelid down in a very familiar move. “Did not, Iwa-chan! Don’t be mean or I’ll kick you out!”

But Iwaizumi had already turned and headed back across the hall, missing Oikawa’s childish display, while you tried to breathe through your giggles. “Sure you will. You can try, Brattykawa.”

“Poor ______, how have you put up with him without me all this time,” Oikawa asked loudly as he followed you back down the hall, his fingers gripping the back of your shirt. There was this an urge to constantly be near you or touching you in some way ever since he’d first seen the two of you at the airport. It was like there was a magnet, drawing his hand to your back or your hand, a small zing of anxiety and a desire to make sure you were really here. It even extended to Iwaizumi, which he found unusual. Separation really was playing havoc with him.

As the day progressed, Oikawa slowly began to realize that your interactions with Iwa weren’t just different, they had changed. The way the two of you revolved around each other was new and a part of him felt shut out as he watched you go about your day. The conversations you had, the stories you told, he didn’t understand any of it and it left an empty feeling in his chest as he realized that in the few months the three of you had been separated you and Iwaizumi had started living a whole new life.

“Oikawa,” you said for the third time, and watched him blink as he refocused on you. You frowned, putting your hand on your hip as you stared up at him. He had been showing you around some of his favorite spots in the city with little enthusiasm and it was starting to worry you. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been out of it for hours now.”

The sun was relentless, so you had stopped at a street vendor for some shaved ice and moved to the shade of a large oak tree. Most of his had melted as he stared off into space, making the paper cone soggy and you watched it drip to the grass. Iwaizumi had thrown away your own garbage and was now staring at Oikawa, waiting for his answer.

But he hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain the foreboding feeling clutching at his heart. It had never occurred to him just how much things would change when he left Tokyo, too focused on himself to consider anything else.

His mouth opened and closed several times, his chocolate brown eyes wide and swimming with an emotion you could only describe as sadness and your stomach clenched. When you reached out to him, he drew you into his arms, burying his face in your hair in a familiar gesture, but even your shampoo had changed.

“Tooru, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling another hand land on your back, overlapping Oikawa’s. You turned your head to look up at Iwa, your heart pounding in your chest. Oikawa’s fingers were twisted in your shirt, and you could feel his heart racing under your hand until you wound your arms around his neck.

Iwa looked down into your face, taking in your wide, nervous eyes asking him to help, but he shook his head and shrugged. He had no more idea of what was going on than you did, but knew that Oikawa would explain when he was able. Whatever had gotten into him was clearly big, and he just needed time to figure himself out.

It was a few minutes before Oikawa moved, and you were sweating in his hold. There were other people walking by, whispering and pointing, but they quickly scurried off when Iwaizumi turned his ferocious scowl on them. When he did finally shift, it was only to stand up a little straighter and set his chin on the top of your head, locking eyes with Iwaizumi.

“It feels like so much has changed since I left. Like there’s some space between us now that wasn’t there before, and you two are standing on one side and I’m standing on the other,” he said at last, and he sounded as empty as his eyes looked.

Iwaizumi knew that look, it was the “I’m about to shut down and refuse to acknowledge that I’m an idiot and overthinking things” look. If it wasn’t stopped in its tracks right now, the rest of the day was going to be miserable.

Before Iwaizumi could smack him upside the head though, you piped up, voice small and fragile as you clung tighter to Oikawa. All the pent up worries and emotions you had hidden from Iwa flooded out, and he was a little aggravated that the two of you had decided to do this right now in the middle of ninety degree weather.

“I know how you feel. I’ve felt the same for the last few weeks, wondering what it was going to be like seeing you again knowing that you have a whole new life here. I was afraid that-- that you would have changed so much that-- I don’t know,” you tapered off, and then whispered, “I thought you wouldn’t want us anymore.”

He laughed at that, a tight, high noise that carried no humor, but the cold feeling in his chest abated and he relaxed, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head and suddenly he was comforting you. “Never ever in a million years, _____. You’re too precious to me. Even Iwa-chan, who’s done nothing but bully me all day. I’d never try to replace you. I’d never let anyone replace you.”

And it was so easy to believe he meant it when he held you like that. Rubbing your face against his chest, you smiled. “You’re still such a sap. I should’ve known you hadn’t changed.”

He whined and pinched your side. “Don’t you be mean to me too, _____. I couldn’t take it.”

Squealing, you pushed him away, but he didn’t let you get far. It was hot and your palms were sweaty and it was uncomfortable, but when he laced his fingers with yours, you didn’t complain.

Iwa did though.

“Are you two done? It’s like, 100 degrees and I am melting. You two are such idiots,” he said, scowling at the two of you. His face was red and shiny with perspiration, and he looked seriously annoyed but he was also watching you with a fondness you’d only recently begun to notice. Since that night a few weeks ago, he had been far more affectionate and open, which was saying something because you were already so casually affectionate to begin with.

Poking his tongue out at him, Oikawa tugged you along down the sidewalk with renewed vigor. Iwaizumi grumbled behind but allowed himself to be led by the hand as Oikawa told you about the next place he was going to bring you and about the game in a few days.

“Unfortunately, I have to go to practice tomorrow, but feel free to wander the city, of course. Just please don’t get lost,” Oikawa prattled on, turning a corner onto a street lined with shops.

The rest of the day was spent investigating every one of them, Oikawa insisting that you get whatever you wanted to decorate your rooms and you obliged only to appease him. It was a little uncomfortable having him pay for everything, but you were weighted down with bags by the time you left the last store. It was mostly clothes, so that you wouldn’t have to pack so much when you visited again and some other small knick knacks that he bought even though you argued against it.

Iwaizumi was carrying far less bags-- at least until he took yours-- mostly because he refused to give into Oikawa’s puppy dog eyes and threatened to maim him if he continued to nag. But Oikawa couldn’t be stopped completely and picked up the things Iwa expressed interest in anyway. Iwaizumi wasn’t happy about it but the look of happiness on Oikawa’s face as he chatted with you, the bags swinging lazily from his arm, made up for it, and he found himself smiling.

The walk back to the apartment was considerably more pleasant without the heat of the sun cooking you alive, and the way first Oikawa then Iwaizumi laced their fingers with yours only made it that much better. There was an indescribable pressure in your chest as you took in the city lights and chatter of people around you. The sounds of sizzling food and smells wafting from street vendors made your mouth water, and Oikawa stopped to purchase a plate of kebabs from one as you passed by.

“You really don’t have to do all this, Tooru. We aren’t poor, you know,” you commented as he passed one to you and then Iwa. Grease dripped down your fingers, and the first bite you took was an explosion of different flavors over your tongue, making you groan. “Shit, this is so good.”

Oikawa watched you with a soft grin, holding his own kebab in his hand but not eating it just yet as he said, “Well there’s not much I’d rather spend it on than you, my little _____.”

The wonder in your eyes as they reflected the lights crisscrossing the street was doing strange things to his stomach, and when those eyes landed on them and the wonder deepened to something more intense, it exploded into butterflies. Something in his head clicked as it changed and he realized you were absolutely beautiful right then and there.

“Shit,” he muttered, and your brows furrowed in confusion as he shook his head. What a weird thought to have, and an even weirder reaction overall. Of course you were beautiful, he had always known that, so why had it hit him so powerfully all of a sudden?

“You alright?” you asked, wiping your mouth with a napkin. Setting your empty stick back on the plate in his hands, you picked up your second one. “You look like you’re in pain.”

He blinked and took a moment to answer, locking eyes with Iwaizumi, who was watching him with curious amusement. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve run all over town like this. The heat must’ve gotten to me.

The heat, huh? Iwaizumi smirked, watching Oikawa watch you with a newfound fascination. He wondered if he even realized he was doing it and how long it would take him to recognize it for what it was.

“Oh, well,” you said, your cheeks heating up for reasons you couldn’t identify. The look in his eyes had changed, emotions you couldn't identify swirling around in his soft brown irises, but it caused your heart to stutter. “Maybe we should go home then. You have practice tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get sick or something. And just before your game too.”

You began to walk as you polished off the last of the food, still struck with wonder at the liveliness of the city. It was different than Tokyo, if no less crowded. Your city was quiet in a lot of ways, tame, whereas this one was wild and loud and raucous. It was enough to make your head spin, and you wondered if you were experiencing culture shock. Only the pressure of Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s slightly greasy fingers kept you from wandering off into the crowds, absorbed as you were with the lights and music.

Oikawa understood all too well, having experienced the same thing when he first arrived as well. He had been grateful for his guide, who had kept him from getting lost and probably mugged or worse in his first few weeks there. Now he knew the layout of the places he most frequented, at least, and he mainly stuck to those.

The street his apartment was on was quiet, the streetlamps casting soft light on the dark buildings with the sun just barely visible on the horizon. You could still hear the faint sounds from the main street, but it was muffled and filtered and you were surprised to find it was almost comforting. It was only nine o’clock, and he wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet, even though he knew he really should. He would be up early tomorrow morning and busy all day and probably into the night getting ready for his big game.

There was a sudden rush of nervous energy, one he was used to just before a game, and it never failed that it would keep him up for a while longer.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked, gesturing to the TV. He had a wicked setup, high definition, ultra-surround sound, the works, along with a collection of DVDs and probably every streaming service imaginable to boot.

But he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes that you had failed to notice before, and you kicked yourself for not realizing sooner. Stupid, stupid, Oikawa!

“I-- maybe we should head to bed, instead,” you suggested, giving Iwaizumi a pointed look.

He was quick to catch on and gave Oikawa a once over as the three of you stood in the kitchen The man looked ready to collapse, his hands trembling ever so slightly, but there was some manic glint in his eyes that he recognized as pre-game jitters, and he groaned internally. Oikawa was going to work himself to death, same as usual, only here there was no one to tell him when to quit because it was his job.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, glaring at him. Dealing with Oikawa really was a full time job, even from halfway around the world. Louder, and to your annoyance, he said, “Actually a movie sounds good. I’m not tired quite yet.”

Oikawa perked up from the slump he had gone into and nodded, scurrying across the room to the TV, and you used the opportunity to turn on Iwaizumi.

“Hajime, he looks like he’s going to drop dead. He needs to sleep,” you whispered, eyeing Oikawa. But he was so absorbed in setting up the sound system that he didn’t even realize you were still in the kitchen. “I-- I’m worried.”

Iwaizumi sighed, cupping your cheek. His other hand squeezed your shoulder, and you realized he was no less worried than you. “I know, but what can we do? He’s an adult and not our responsibility anymore.”

Both of you had been with him through his overzealous competition with Kageyama, one or both of you having to literally pick him up from the floor when his knees wouldn’t hold his weight more than once. There had been too many fights and sleepless nights with him about overworking himself and his obsessive need to defeat both Kageyama and Ushijima that you didn’t want to think about what he was doing to himself without someone to yell at him now.

And the way Iwaizumi talked hurt because it was true. He wasn’t, and hadn’t been for months. You hadn’t even really stopped to consider what he might be doing to himself without you and Iwaizumi to knock some sense into him, but it was plain as day that he was working himself to the bone when you stopped to really look at him.

“I know that,” you muttered, but you didn’t really believe it. It was second nature to take care of each other, and that didn’t change just because of a few months apart. Years of friendship trumped that by miles and you weren’t sure that would ever change. “Still…”

“Look,” Iwaizumi said, glancing at Oikawa again. He was still messing with something and in a rush Iwa continued. “He’s too worked up about the game, so he won’t sleep anyway. Let’s just stay up and maybe we can help him relax--”

Oikawa’s voice cut him off, playful but a little suspicious, making the two of you jumped. “What are you two whispering about?”

Feeling guilty at the betrayed expression on his wan face, you opened your lips but no sound came out. There were words stuck in your throat-- worried reprimands and demands-- but you knew they would do no good. Not with his very first game on the international circuit looming in just two days time. Nothing you said would make a difference, and to stress him out with a fight before that wouldn’t be fair, or at least no more fair than he was being to himself anyway.

Picking a fight right now would only ruin your vacation and make everyone miserable, so instead you closed your mouth and reached out to take Iwa’s hand, which squeezed yours so tight you could feel your bones grinding. “Sorry, Tooru, just chatting about tomorrow. Didn’t realize we were whispering.”

Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, though, and Oikawa’s narrowed, his lips turning down. Everything had been fine until you had gotten back to the apartment, but now you and Iwa both looked withdrawn and distant, unable to look at him for more than a moment before finding each other. “Are you...sure?”

The air filled with a tense silence, and once again you felt like a chasm was between you, with you and Iwaizumi on one side and Oikawa on the other, and you wondered if it would ever truly close up again. He looked so alone on the other side, drawn into himself and insecure, that you had to clos the distance to him and took his hand. It created a chain between the three of you until Iwa reached out for Oikawa, and you breathed a little easier for it.

“Everything is fine, Tooru, if you are,” you said, and he heard the pointed question in your tone.

Iwaizumi groaned internally. He should’ve known you wouldn’t just leave it alone.

For Oikawa’s part, he should’ve known you would notice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. But he didn’t feel like getting into it with you on your first night in-- if at all-- but he knew he would have to let you fawn over and get onto him following the game. He just hoped you would drop it until then.

“I’m tired, _____, but I’m okay. Things will slow down once the game is over, I promise,” he said, and you picked up on the thin warning in his voice.

Another tense silence followed as they waited for you to make your decision, and you ultimately sighed, dropping his hand. You understood his sentiment all too well, and knew that Iwaizumi was right when he said it would be better to wait, but that didn’t mean you were happy with what Oikawa was doing to himself.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he gestured to the collection of DVDs lining the shelves. Ultimately, it was left up to you and you picked out something you knew everyone would enjoy: The X-Files. The way Oikawa’s tired face lit up was a testament to that, even if Iwaizumi huffed in exasperation. At least you hadn’t pushed the issue with Oikawa, letting it devolve into a fight. He really didn’t feel like having to mediate between the two of you tonight.

Three episodes in and Oikawa was drooping onto your shoulder, eyes fluttering with the effort to remain open. The hand he had been using to hold yours was slack, fingers loosely intertwined, and he whined when you pulled away, reaching out for it again. But you were pushing at his shoulder, guiding him down to lay in your lap, and he hummed in contentment. A blanket landed on him, the one from the back of the couch, then your fingers were brushing through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and he was drifting, images of the day flickering through his mind’s eye. They mixed with some weirder things, like a giant cat and running through Tokyo away from an alien, and he stopped fighting to bring the other images back.

His breathing evened out, his full weight coming to rest on your legs, and your fingers stilled. Eyes locked on the screen, you said, “Sorry, Iwa, for earlier. I know you’re right, but I can’t help but worry.”

Iwaizumi already had the remote in hand, fiddling with the buttons until he could figure out how to switch the screen over to Netflix, and he sighed as he flipped through the shows. “I know how you are, ______, but you know how Oikawa is. He’s always been that way.” He wasn’t patronizing as he said it, just pointed, making you flinch.

“I know that, but is anyone down here going to keep him from killing himself? You know he doesn’t know his limits,” you said, watching as he clicked into the info screen for Mad Max. The opening title played and you relaxed into the back of the couch, propping your legs up on the coffee table.

He sighed, eyes fixated on Charlize Theron coming down on her platform. He loved that movie, watching it almost as often as Godzilla. “Yeah, I do know. But there’s nothing we can do, is there? He’s halfway around the world from us and texting him about it will only get ignored.” His arm came down around your shoulders, squeezing you to his side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. “He’ll be alright, _____. Once this game is over, he should settle down. He’s probably just desperate to make a good impression.”

You chuckled at that as you watched the movie, Iwa’s warmth surrounding you and the steady rise of fall of Oikawa’s shoulders lulling you into a stupor. You knew he was right because Oikawa had always been like that-- desperate, for some reason, to make sure everyone knew he was worthy of the praise he received. As if you didn’t already think he was.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until Iwaizumi was nudging your shoulder. The weight on your legs was gone and you jerked awake to find Oikawa sitting up, rubbing his eyes and glaring at Iwaizumi.

“I was comfortable,” he whined, draping himself over you dramatically. You giggled, your eyes stinging with sleep, but pushed him off you gently. “Not you too, _____.”

“We should go to sleep,” you reprimanded, letting Iwa help you up off the couch. Holding your hand out to Oikawa, you were almost pulled back down by his strong grip, and heard him snicker. “Don’t be a brat, Tooru,” you said, pinching his side and listening to him whine.

You parted ways in the hall, the resonating click of three doors closing before silence reigned, and you changed quickly. Collapsing onto the bed with a sigh, you breathed in the fresh smell of laundry detergent and smiled as you realized that, somehow, Oikawa’s damn cologne had stuck to the sheets too.

The next day, you and Iwaizumi wandered around the city again, following Oikawa’s suggestions of sites to check out. The city center was beautiful but packed, the fountain gurgling away happily, and that’s where the two of you had lunch. Following that, you went around to a museum, taking a tour where the guide explained the founding of the city and other interesting facts. Iwa accidentally ripped the pamphlet, causing you to laugh at the confusion on his face as he tried to figure out how it happened.

The last place you visited was an absolutely beautiful park. There were people everywhere there as well, sitting in the grass and on the benches littered around the lake. Iwa casually reached out, taking your hand as you walked down the riverwalk, gazing at the serene blue waters, and your heart skipped a beat.

When you returned to the apartment, greeting the doorman on your way by, it was still dark, and you set the ingredients you had purchased down on the counter. On the way back, you had mentioned how Oikawa had probably not had any homemade food since he moved there, so Iwaizumi had suggested making onigiri for him.

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, putting the rice on before turning to help Iwa make the fillings. You had opted for a few different ones, and you were overflowing with rice balls by the time you were done. To an outsider, it would look like too much, but you knew your boys all too well-- they would eat every single one of them before the night was through.

As you worked, you asked, “How long do you think he’ll be?”

He shrugged in response, molding rice around a tuna filling. His muscles flexed with the effort, veins popping naturally all along his forearm, and you found yourself lost in watching him work. It was something you were always prone too, but lately thoughts of a different nature were popping into your head, thoughts you really, really didn’t want to be thinking.

It took him a moment to realize you hadn’t said anything more, and he looked up to find you staring at him intensely. “See something you like?” he joked and watched you jump, your face flushing as you turned back to your own work. His eyes narrowed at your unusual reaction-- normally you would come back with a defensive “No,” or some quip about how there was nothing to see at all.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to see the game tomorrow,” you said, and he could hear the strain in your voice. You were packing the rice balls with more tenacity than normal, obviously determined not to look at him again, and something about it soothed the low burn in his chest that had been there for some time, diligently ignored.

He nodded, even though you weren’t looking, and picked up the next onigiri. “Oikawa is gonna be amazing out there, like always. I’m glad we get to be here for him.”

“Me too,” you said, and then laughed. “Imagine if we hadn’t come. He would be blowing us up right now, whining about how nervous he is and how we don’t love him anymore.”

He laughed with you, imagining Oikawa stomping his foot as he complained about being abandoned. “Thank god we came then. We would never survive his wrath.”

When the onigiri was done, you plopped down on the couch, putting on Family Guy on Hulu for background noise while the two of you played on your phones. Your feet were in Iwa’s lap as you tapped away at a game on your screen, the sound drowned out by Peter’s loud laughter, and that was how Oikawa found the two of you an hour later.

The sound of his entry was covered by the TV, and something heavy settled in his stomach when he opened the door and called, “I’m home.”

He snickered when you both jumped, twisting around to look at him. A smile lit your face while Iwa just looked unimpressed.

“Welcome home!” you said, throwing your arms up with dramatic enthusiasm, and Oikawa snickered.

“Awe, you even cooked. My little housewives,” he cooed, picking up a rice ball from the plate on the counter. He took a bite, nostalgia and longing filling his heart at the familiar flavors. It reminded him of home-- not Japan, not Tokyo, not Miyagi, but you and Iwa.

“Watch it, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled, scowling up at his friend, and was stopped short by the expression on his face. It was so tender it was almost painful as he stared down at the rice ball in his hands, and then he turned it full force on the two of you.

“I really missed you guys,” he said, and then laughed. “And onigiri, and takoyaki, and Japan.”

He brought two more over and squeezed between you, practically sitting on top of you, slinging his arm over Iwa’s shoulders. You exchanged a glance with Iwaizumi, who just shrugged in amusement.

“What’re you doing home so early anyway?” you asked, returning to your game. You were only 500 points away from beating your highscore, and you tapped away to get there. Oikawa watched over your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine.

He was unusually quiet and focused as your character moved across the screen, avoiding obstacles and slashing at small blob monsters in your path. “Uh, they wanted us to rest for the big game. Speaking of which, I have your passes in my bag, so don’t let me forget to give them to you otherwise they won’t let you in.”

You hummed, avoiding a blob only to get killed by an arrow on your last life. “Goddammit.”

Exiting out of the app purely out of spite, you locked your phone and looked up at Oikawa. His face was closer than you had realized and your face heated up when your nose bumped his. He seemed as startled as you and jerked back, his cheeks turning a pretty red underneath his tan. His brown eyes were wide with surprise, lips parting slightly, and his arm slid off Iwa’s shoulders.

Iwaizumi watched the whole thing with something that could have been amusement, but he couldn’t quite tell. There was a flareup of something in his chest, and he might have named it longing if he hadn’t been trying to ignore those feelings. Clearing his throat, he continued to scroll through his phone and watched the two of you shift, trying to ignore the tension in the air.

“Anyway,” you said, picking at the hem of your shorts. You picked your phone back up and unlocked it, clicking into Twitter. “Do you know where our seats are?”

Back in familiar territory, Oikawa perked back up. “Well...I got you front row seats! And you’ll meet me in back after the game is over to go to the afterparty.”

“Oh, we get to party with the great Oikawa still?” Iwa asked, snickering at the way Oikawa huffed.

“Not with that attitude, Iwa-chan. Maybe I’ll just take _____ and leave you at the stadium,” he said, wrapping his arm around you possessively. It seemed whatever strangeness had occurred earlier was wiped from his mind as he pulled you into his chest.

You laughed into his shirt, fingers wiggling against his stomach until he squirmed and let you go. “You can’t be that mean, Tooru,” you chided, curling your legs up underneath yourself. Liking one of Bokuto’s tweets, you continued, “What would we do without Iwa there to keep us from getting too drunk?”

“And going home with the wrong people again?” he piped up, and Oikawa flushed bright red again.

“It was one time, Hajime. Stop bringing it up!” he whined, hiding his face in his hands. “_____, help me!”

Instead, you snickered and said, “That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You should have seen how confused they were when you stumbled up to them screaming Iwa-chan, _____ I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Iwa burst into laughter while Oikawa groaned.

“I hate it here,” he said, muffled by his hands. “Why does everyone hate me?”

Patting his back, you choked out, “It’s because you’re pretty.”

“Ugh.”

The game that day was absolutely fantastic. Oikawa was flawless, encouraging his teammates and commanding everyone’s attention-- then again maybe that was just you projecting, but if anyone asked you would say it was true-- and it seemed they won the game without effort.

They all clapped him on the back in the middle of the court, laughing and cheering and, when they turned to acknowledge the crowd, Oikawa’s smile was all for you.

A security guard approached your seats a few moments later, gesturing you towards the set of doors the team was heading towards, and Oikawa fell into step beside you, slinging a sweaty arm over each of your shoulders.

“God, Oikawa, you’re disgusting. Get off us,” Iwa snapped, shoving at his arm, but Oikawa was undeterred.

Still regaining his breath, he asked, “How was I out there? Amazing, right?”

“If you already know,” Iwaizumi said, giving up the fight with his arm, “why are you asking?”

“Because I want to hear you say it, of course,” he answered, guiding you towards the locker rooms. There was a series of benches lining the hall and he stopped in front of them, grinning. “Wait here. We’re gonna have to do a few more interviews and then we’ll go to the venue,” he said, turning towards the locker room.

It was almost thirty minutes before the team finally trudged back out, still in high spirits, and another thirty to deal with the throngs of reporters and news crews who wanted interviews. Finally, you loaded up onto the bus, stuck between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The whole ride was loud and you laughed at the antics of the team. Iwaizumi was right at home amongst them, as if he were right back in highschool, riding the high of a win.

The party was being held on the rooftop of a nearby hotel, complete with an open bar, DJ, and more athletes, friends and family of said athletes, and reporters than you could count. You were introduced to the team and their spouses before being dragged off by a few of them to dance. Iwaizumi found you a little while later, three drinks in and giggling maniacally with the libero’s wife, Trish. She was telling you about when she first met her husband at a party just like this one and how she threw up on his girlfriend at the time’s shoes. He had laughed so hard she broke up with him right then, and you couldn’t help but laugh even though it was kind of sad.

“Hey, princess,” Iwa said, and you shouted his name happily at the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes slightly unfocused, and when you took a sip from his cup you were overcome with the taste of vodka. “Oikawa was looking for us.”

“Oh,” Trish teased, pushing you a little harder than intended in her drunk state. You fell into Iwaizumi, who only caught you out of habit. “Are you dating our little all star?”

“W-What?” you shrieked over the loud music, shaking your head wildly. Your hair fell into your face and the sky spun, then you started giggling again. “No, no, it’s-- nothing like that?”

“Are you asking or telling, _____?” she asked, but Iwa was pulling you away, pushing through the pulsating crowd towards the bar.

Oikawa was standing there, eyes bright with drunkenness as he chatted with someone you didn’t recognize, and he waved as you stumbled up. Pulling you from Iwa, he said, “_____, this is Andre. He’s from the Swedish team. This is my best friend from Japan.”

You straightened up, the haze of alcohol clearing as you focused on the tall man in front of you. He was smiling kindly at you, a cup in his hand like everyone else, and nodded at you. He spoke with a Spanish accent as he said, “It’s nice to meet you, _____. You’re very beautiful.”

Eyes widening, you stuttered as you said, “T-Thank you.”

His grin grew bigger, and you missed the way both Iwa and Oikawa tensed to either side of you. If he saw it, he ignored it, asking if you wanted to dance.

Your friends let you go with reluctance, a pained expression on Oikawa’s face as he looked to Iwaizumi. Neither knew what to say-- they knew it would happen eventually, you couldn’t remain unnoticed forever.

“She’ll be okay,” Iwa said, pouring himself another drink. It was his fourth so far, and he was careless as he poured his alcohol. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Oikawa didn’t like the calmness in his voice when something ugly was raging in his chest, something he had been ignoring all this time whenever you talked about other people you expressed an interest in. But alcohol made him loose and the jealousy reared up sharper than ever as he caught glimpses of you twirling and swaying with the beat of the music. Andre’s hands were on your hips and you were laughing at something he was whispering-- at least as far as Oikawa could tell-- into your ear.

His hands were tight around his cup, squeezing and crinkling the cheap plastic, then it was being tugged from his fingers and another was replacing it.

“Drink,” Iwa said, sipping from his own cup. “Jealousy looks ugly on you.”

“Iwa,” he snapped, watching your arms loop around Andre’s neck, “how can you be happy about this?”

Iwa tensed beside him and pinned him with a glare that would have cowed him if he was less drunk or less irate. “What makes you think I am, Oikawa? But she isn’t-- she’s not ours.”

Ours echoed in his head, and for the first time he really looked at Iwaizumi. He realized that the jealousy never flared when he was around, and watching the two of you curled up together on his couch never elicited the emotion either. It felt like home watching the two of you, and yesterday was the first day he had actually looked forward to coming home. Seeing Iwaizumi’s spiky black hair over the back of the couch and your smiling face as you welcomed him home had made all the difference to him, and he took a large swig from his cup, the rum burning on the way down before he spoke again.

“She could be.”

It was said so quietly that if Iwa hadn’t been standing shoulder to shoulder with him he wouldn’t have heard him. His head whipped around, swimming a little with the alcohol, and narrowed his eyes.

Oikawa could feel his eyes on him, meeting his gaze head on. He wasn’t joking, the mix of jealousy and alcohol wouldn’t let him. Iwaizumi’s face was blank, but he could see the gears turning as he processed his words as best he could with his level of intoxication.

At last, he seemed to reach a decision, the blankness morphing into a calculating look and he said, “What about her? Does she want that? And us? Oikawa, we can’t hold her back because we don’t want to let her go.”

Oikawa looked back to you and sighed. You were now dancing with Andre and one of the other wives whose name he’d already forgotten, laughing without care. “If she doesn’t want us, then we’ll let her go. But I can’t-- Iwa, you feel the same, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he said, admitting to it at last. It felt like the weight of finally confessing was lifted only to be replaced with the weight of acknowledgement, and he wasn’t sure he liked it any better. “For both of you, but it doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it. What will you do if she rejects you?”

“Then I’ll beg her not to cut me out of her life, of course. And she’ll forgive us because even if she doesn’t love us, she loves us,” he answered, and said it with such certainty that even Iwaizumi believed him. He sighed, clapping Oikawa on the shoulder and, as if the gods were listening, you disentangled yourself from Andre and approached them.

Even in the dim light they could see how happy you were, skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat. A few strands of hair were sticking to your forehead, and you pushed them back as you greeted them. “Hey, guys, what’re you just standing here for? This is a party for you, Oikawa!” You were shouting over the music and reached out, taking Iwa’s cup from his hand. Taking a swig, you grimaced. “How are you still standing, Haji?”

Iwa chuckled while Oikawa took a long swallow from his cup.

“You’re right, princess. Let’s go dance!” he said, and took your hand. You grabbed Iwa’s at the last minute and pulled him after the two of you, his drink sloshing as he stumbled to keep up.

You found yourself pinned between the two of them, the heat radiating off of them and everyone around you making your brain fuzzy. Your arms looped around his neck when you handed Oikawa’s cup back after stealing a sip, body swaying to the beat of the music thudding from the speakers. Andre was all but pushed from your mind as his hand settled on your waist, Iwa’s landing on your other. His back was pressed flush to your back, your chest touching Oikawa’s, and suddenly nothing else existed.

The smell of his cologne filled your nose, mixed with the heady scent of alcohol and sweat. Your head spun when Iwa pressed his nose into your hair, pulling it to the side to expose the back of your neck, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

The song changed, more intense, and you lost yourself in the feel of their bodies against yours, tall and protective. Spinning around, you wrapped your fingers around Iwa’s neck now and his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Having fun, princess?” Oikawa whispered, a breath of air ghosting over your ear making you shivered. His hand was low on your hip, squeezing as he pulled you back into him, and you nodded. “I could use another drink. Keep her warm for me, Hajime.”

His warmth disappeared and you instantly missed it and the feeling of security. Nuzzling closer to Iwa, the beat shifted again, slowing down and going darker, and you shivered as the bass thrummed through you. His hand drifted lower, settling just below your hip, and you looked up at him. Both their drinks were a lot stronger this time around, and you could feel the effects on you in the way everything swam. You couldn’t focus on anything but Iwaizumi and the way he was staring at you with dark, hooded eyes. You were sure he was as drunk as you, but you didn’t even realize you were leaning up until he stopped you, giving you a soft smile.

“Not here, princess, not while you’re drunk,” he said into your ear, and you flushed under the spinning strobe lights. You were too important to him to do this when you weren’t sober, and he wanted to talk before you made any decisions.

His words held a promise you didn’t expect, and you swallowed thickly around the cloying taste of vodka.

“But when I’m sober?” you whispered, and it was only because you were still right by his ear that he heard you.

He chuckled, nodding as he rested his sweaty forehead against yours. “If you remember, princess. Yeah.”

“What have we here? I thought you had more chivalry than that,” Oikawa said from beside you. He slid back into his place behind you, resting his cheek on your shoulder, lips a hair away from touching Iwa’s forehead. “By the way, Andre is not happy. Isn’t it great?”

Iwa snickered, kissing the tip of your nose before he took in Oikawa’s shit eating grin. Leaning in close, his nose brushed Oikawa’s. “You take way too much pride in that, Shittykawa.”

“Don’t you? Our _____ is a desired woman, after all,” he said, eyes narrowing as they dipped down to look at Iwa’s lips. The temptation was strong enough that it caused him to lick his own before meeting Iwa’s again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He was following the beat of the music, swaying side to side with you. It had shifted once again but remained low and resonating, the others around you pushing and pulling you with the flow. Your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and amused.

“What do you mean our?” you asked, teasing. You snatched the cup from his hand and took a drink, playing keep away from Oikawa when he reached for it. You weren’t expecting for Iwaizumi to take it from your hands and drink from it, both of you laughing when Oikawa whined.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to him while Iwa held onto the cup, laughing brashly. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was feeling lighter than air, and he looked at you and Oikawa, draped around you like a blanket. Love flooded his system, mixing with the drink and his head spun at the intensity. He wondered if he would feel that way tomorrow, but decided that was a problem for another Iwaizumi. He came back to you, arm slipping around you both as far as the could to curl in Oikawa’s shirt.

The party was still raging, and he was going to enjoy it with the two of you.

You didn’t stumble into the apartment until the early hours of the morning, when the earliest risers were getting ready for work, and half-assed the removal of your makeup. Hands had grabbed you the minute you exited the bathroom and dragged you back to the living room, where you collapsed in a pile on the couch. You passed out until mid afternoon and woke up tangled in long and muscular limbs, remaining makeup caked and the lingering taste of alcohol in your mouth. How you had managed not to throw up was a miracle, and the men only groaned when you untangled yourself from them.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you cleaned the rest of the makeup off your face and snagged some of Oikawa’s facial cleanser before hopping into the shower. Flashes of last night came back to you. Dancing with Andre, listening to him whisper into your ear and laughing at things that weren’t that funny now, then finding Oikawa and Iwa and being dragged back into the crowd. That caused your heart to race, remembering the way they had pinned you between them, hands groping at your hips and moving against you. Oikawa had disappeared and it was just you and Iwa, the intense look in his eyes as he stared down at you, leaning up and--

God, you had almost kissed him. And he had-- he had said if you remembered when you were sober. Your heart was thumping so hard that your hungover brain was spinning. The question was, did he remember?

Feeling marginally less dead but more nervous than ever before, you dressed and headed back into the living room to find Iwaizumi and Oikawa both sitting up with their heads in their hands.

“I haven’t gotten that drunk since my last party in Japan,” Oikawa groaned, massaging his temples. He remembered a surprising amount about last night, but most clearly was the conversation with Iwaizumi, and he knew without asking that he remembered it too. Neither of them were drunk enough to forget, but after that was a different story. All he remembered was dancing with you for the rest of the night, your hands in his hair and on his chest, body moving against his, and his heart throbbed in his throat.

Iwa chuckled at that and then winced when the action made his head throb. “Weak. But same.” His schedule was always too packed to get that blitzed, so he stuck to two drinks and then went home.

The door to the bathroom opened and you came out into the living room wearing one of their shirts-- they didn’t even know whose at that point-- and sat down between them on the couch.

“You look like trash,” you said, snickering when they grumbled.

“I’m gonna go shower now,” Iwa said, standing up from beside you. He gave the lightest touch on your cheek before disappearing down the hall. The sound of water running met your ears, and you fidgeted with your hands.

Oikawa groaned and flopped sideways down on the couch. “I ordered takeout already. It should be here soon. I need something greasy, so I hope you don’t mind burgers.”

Your stomach grumbled at the mention of food, reminding you that the only thing you had eaten were some hors d’oeuvres at the party. “That sounds absolutely amazing.”

You put on Netflix while Oikawa replaced Iwa in the shower, the air tense between you two. The words from last night replayed and you were working up the courage to see if he remembered as well when he turned to you.

“Hey, uh, _____, do you-- I mean, what do you--?” he said, and the doorbell rang, indicating the food was there. “Well, nevermind.” He stood up and answered, the smell of greasy food hitting you after a moment.

“Gimme gimme,” you said, taking the box he handed to you.

The shower cut off and a few minutes later Oikawa joined you, groaning as he took a bite of his burger. “Nothing has ever tasted so good.”

You continued to eat in silence, a tense weight hanging over the three of you and the longer it went unacknowledged the more nervous you got. The scene kept playing over in your head, exhausting you more than the hangover, your stomach rolling with anxiety. At last, you couldn’t take it and pushed your burger away.

“Listen, guys, um, I have something to say and I really hope that you don’t freak out but I--”

“Do you remember last night?” Iwaizumi asked, cutting you off. You flinched beside him, eyes wide as you nodded, and he reached out, taking your hands. “Was that real? Is it something you want?”

Your mouth went dry as he moved closer, leaning in like you had last night, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Oikawa shifted behind you, unaware of what you were talking about, but Iwa’s eyes locked with his over your head and he understood that whatever it was, it was promising.

Heart in your throat, you nodded, and that was all Iwa needed.

Your first kiss with him was soft and sweet, his hands coming up to cup your face, and he tilted his head to the side to deepen it. Oikawa groaned, fingers digging into your sides and letting his head drop to your shoulder. Somehow, what he had talked about last night was actually happening, and he fought the urge to pinch himself to make sure it was real, just in case he was in the midst of an alcohol induced dream.

When Iwa pulled back, his eyes were hazy as they stared into yours, hands rough and warm against your cheeks. He dipped in again, stealing one more before letting go, and Oikawa wrapped your hair around his fingers, guiding your face around so he could get his.

That kiss was heavy with unspoken emotion, needy and hot and you reached up behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing back into him to get closer. His arm wrapped around your stomach, hauling you into his lap and when he pulled away, he was panting. It didn’t stop him from diving in several more times, moaning at the taste until he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed and lips swollen.

“I love you, princess. And not just as one of my best friends,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing your stomach through your shirt. You gasped at that, eyes misting over as you stared up at him.

“I-- really?” you whispered, and he chuckled at the disbelieving tone of your voice.

He nodded, and Iwa distracted you by taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn and then pressing your palm to his cheek. “I love you too, _____, if that’s okay.”

“W-Wait, I don’t-- I don’t want to choose between you,” you breathed, and they snickered at the panic in your voice. Dumbfounded, you fell silent, looking between them and waiting for an explanation.

Pulling your hand down, Iwa set it in his lap, stroking the back of it with callused fingertips. “You don’t have to choose between us, if you want both of us. We’ve already talked about it.”

“When?” you asked, overwhelmed by the information. Your two best friends, both of whom you’d managed to fall in love with over the course of the last few months, were confessing they both loved you and both wanted to be with you. It was almost too much.

Iwa colored red while Oikawa snickered again, turning your face to him again. “Last night, actually. Speaking of which, what were you talking about that happened last night?”

It was your turn to be embarrassed, and you hid your face in his neck, mumbling it to him.

“You tried to kiss him?” Oikawa laughed, rubbing your back. “Oh, _____, you little minx.”

“Shut up,” you whined, smacking him in the arm.

He continued to laugh at you, locking eyes with Iwa again. He looked amused, his cheeks still faintly pink but the smile he was wearing was so beautifully genuine that it almost hurt to look at, and Iwa’s words from last night flashed back to him.

Of course I do. For both of you.

His eyes dipped down to Iwa’s lips and, when he looked back up, he was wearing a knowing smirk. He shifted you slightly to the side, keeping you steady with an arm around your waist, while Iwa scooted forward. His knee pressed between yours as he leaned forward, cupping Oikawa’s cheek before his fingers slid up into his hair.

Your mouth fell open as he pulled his head down, slotting his lips against Oikawa’s. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then Oikawa’s fingers curled into his shirt and tugged him closer, groaning into the kiss.

Their pupils were blown wide with wonder when they pulled apart and, when they looked back to you, they found you wearing the widest grin imaginable. There was a pause where no one said anything and then Oikawa pushed you into Iwaizumi and threw himself on top of you. Iwaizumi grunted at the impact as his back hit the couch while you laughed loudly.

“You fucking brat,” Iwaizumi snapped without malice, while you wiggled around trying to get Oikawa off of you. He fell to the side between you and the couch, and Iwa held you to his chest, hand rubbing your back.

Oikawa braced himself up on his elbow, gazing down at the two of you with a bright smile, radiating happiness. He finally understood the ache that had sat in his chest since he announced he was leaving for Argentina, the fierce longing to see you and touch you ever since you had arrived explained by the fact that he was unconditionally in love with you. He wondered how he had only realized it after he left, when the signs had been there for a lot longer than that. Maybe he had simply taken what he had already for granted, or maybe he had just been blind to it.

Knowing him, it was probably both.

Your eyes had closed, listening to the steady beat of Iwa’s heart in your ear, but you suddenly jerked up, looking excited.

“Does that mean I can call you my boyfriends? Everyone is gonna freak,” you said, and Oikawa snorted and burst into laughter. Under you, Iwa groaned, clapping his hand to his forehead.

“You are unbelievable, _____,” he huffed, but he was smiling again, and you could see he was trying not to laugh. “But yeah, I guess you can. I will revoke the right if you abuse it, though. Both of you.”

Oikawa’s eyes lit up at that, and a mischievous smirk lit up his face. “Wonder what we’d have to do to make that happen.”

“Oh, no. I am not gonna risk that,” you said, pushing his face away as he leaned forward. “I just got the right, I’m not gonna lose it already.”

“You’re no fun, _____,” he pouted, grabbing your hand. He kissed your palm, listening to you giggle at something Iwa whispered into your ear. “Already keeping secrets from me, hm? I’m not sure you--”

“I love you, Tooru,” you said, and he sputtered and turned bright red, dropping your hand in favor of covering his face with his, whining in the back of his throat. You burst into laughter while Iwaizumi snickered, high fiving you.

“Why are you two so mean to me?” Oikawa asked through his fingers, though he was grinning hard enough to hurt. His heart thumped in his chest at what was probably an unhealthy rate for an athlete of his caliber, but if he died of a heart attack right then, he’d be alright with it.

It was Iwaizumi who answered, pulling his face down into his neck. Oikawa went willingly, listening to the deep timber of his voice as he said, “You didn’t really think anything would change did you, Brattykawa?”

“Well I had hoped, since you love me and all,” Oikawa admitted. He was starting to feel tired again, his eyes heavy as he soaked in the warmth of your hands on his back and Iwa in general.

“Nope,” you said, popping your lips on the ‘p’. You settled yourself on Iwa’s chest again, pushing your fingers through Oikawa’s hair. He seemed to purr at that, murmuring as he snuggled closer into Iwa’s side. “I could go for a nap.”

“Same,” Iwa said, proving his point with a yawn. Tucking his arm beneath his head, he let his eyes close with a sigh.

Oikawa was already asleep, his breathing deep and even and warm against Iwa’s neck, and he thought you were too until you murmured a sleepy, “I love you too, Haji.”

His lips ticked up, his heart skipping a beat at the quiet confession. They were words he had been longing to hear for a longer time than he cared to admit, and he sighed again.

“Love you too, princess. Now shut up so we can sleep.”

⇥ masterlist

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous

#iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader x oikawa #.365days #.lmhisj

161 notes · View notes

mariamermaid · 4 years ago

Text

Lake Dreams

Sirius Black x reader

Summary: The summer holidays are just around the corner and together with your friends, you spent the day at the lake.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: some sneaky remarks here and there

A/N: Requested by @msmb! “Could I get a request with Sirius Black where he and the reader are like best best friends and they both like each other as more and everyone can tell but them. They go to the black lake with like Lily and James and Remus and Marlene and Peter and Sirius pushes her in and she drags him with her and they start making out in the lake?”

“It´s the last exam and you´re not even close to failing, sure you want to take the books with you?” You asked Lilly, who was packing as if the library had to fit into her bag, while you laid on the bed watching. Marlene´s head peaked out from the bathroom; “Y/n´s right, leave the books.”

“Oh, she will as soon as James starts flirting again”, you giggled. Only seconds later, you felt the hard book binding hit your head. “Merlin you´re done Evans!”

You jumped off the bed, armed with a thick white pillow, which was heavy enough to throw Lilly to the ground. Soft and angelic feathers started floating through the air and while Marlene joined in the fight, you all overheard the knock on the door.

It wasn´t until James, Sirius, Remus and Peter stood right in the door, when you noticed the four boys staring. Mouth little agape and eyes wide opened, only Sirius had the capacity to smirk.

While Lily and Marlene spent their breathing to calm down and hide any further blushes, you rolled your eyes.

“What are you staring at, Black? Jealous to never experience a pillow fight with any of us?”

His provoking smile didn´t drop though.

“Just tell me when you´re free, Y/N, we can spend as much time in bed as you want.”

You huffed and threw your bag into his arms. “For that comment, you get to carry my bag.”

James took Lilly´s bag without asking or hesitation, and you knew how heavy that thing was. You hadn´t even reached the black lake, when Sirius started complaining. Sighing, you took your bag back.

“Weak”, you mumbled under your breath and finally reached your all favorites spot.

Sirius wanted to argue once again, but Remus patted his shoulder stopping him from doing so.

Each of you took a towel and together you formed a nice circle for the group to gather. Marlene and you had prepared some snacks and Remus and Peter had carried an extra cooling box with refreshing drinks. James, Sirius and Peter didn´t waste any time and immediately made their way into the water.

“Boys”, Marlene shook her head, while she and Lilly shared a sun lotion.

“More like idiots”, you nodded agreeing at them. Remus placed himself in front of the sun and his shadow fell on your body. You lurked up to him, taking a hand to shield yourself from the light.

You had known Remus before even going to school, more so, you considered him family. He always had been in your life and your families often spent the holidays together.

“Still care for a little swim, Fairy?”

You chuckled at his nickname, an old tradition from the two of you.

“Always Moony.”

When you were little and Remus had transformed for the first time, he had been awfully anxious especially of your opinion. But little you, was nothing but jealous. Why did Remus get to be a wizard AND a werewolf? It was then simply decided that you wanted to be a fairy. The nickname lasted.

A little more far off from the three boys, who tried their best to push each other into the water, you swam away from the waterfront.

“How long do you think it´s gonna take until Lilly and James finally admit that they´re made to be with each other?” You asked after a while, Remus laughed softly.

“No idea, but you´re one to ask!”

You gasped surprised, splashing a little water into this face. “What do you mean by that?”

“What about your flirting with Sirius?”

“Flirting? It´s called joking, Moony.” You explained and watched how Remus shrugged.

“If you say so! But I´m sure, he wouldn´t mind, if you weren´t joking.”

You groaned in annoyance. “Yes, Remus, of course he wouldn´t mind. Because he is Sirius Black.”

Your friend chuckled again. “Well, you´re not wrong about that.”

He knew, that there was no way into making you admit something, you didn´t even believe yourself yet.

“What about the tomorrow’s exam, you ready?”

You had turned around, making your way back towards land. “I guess, I´ll re-read Lilly´s remarkable notes before bed again, should be enough. What about you though?”

“Same, I´m much more worried about our two troublemakers.”

You eyed James and Sirius, who had settled back on the towels next to Lilly, Marlene and Peter.

“That bad?”

Remus rose his eyebrow. “Let´s put it this way, they won´t get much sleep today, if they don´t want to fail.”

“Somehow, they always manage though, don´t they?"

“Sure, but at what cost?”

You laughed with Remus and shortly after, you had reached the land again. James was making jokes to make Lilly giggle and while Marlene and Peter exchanged slightly annoyed glances, Sirius had watched you and Remus. His jaw was tensed and he knew he shouldn´t feel the jealousy over your friendship, but so often he wished you´d talk to him the same way.

Sure, the two of you liked teasing and joking, but there was this yearning to know more. Know your thoughts and dreams and as much as he tried, he never got close enough. Something always made the two of you act differently around each other…

You felt the cool drops of water running down your skin as you laid down on your towel, the sun shining hot on your back. The mere shadow of your own arms shielding your face, while a soft summer breeze began drying you off. Your group of friends continued talking and laughing, but soon enough you felt yourself drifting off. The past couple of weeks, you had all spent more time in the library than any of you liked. The constant reminder of stressful exam phase had drained a lot of energy, a little break was more than welcomed.

You didn´t know for how long you had fallen asleep, but when you woke up again, the sun had already began settling. You yawned and brushed off sleep from your face.

“Ah Y/n, glad to see you´re finally walking with the living again”, James exclaimed. You scrunched your nose, but a small smile was on your lips as well.

“How long was I out?”

“More than an hour”, Lilly explained, her expression a little more worried. On the other hand, she knew well enough, how her own body ached for a little more sleep.

“By Merlin´s beard, that felt good though!” You admitted and the group erupted in laughter.

You stretched as a second yawn escaped your lips.

“But I think I need a last cool down before heading back, the sun tried to roast me!”

“Good thing I put some sunscreen on your back, while you were peacefully napping!” Marlene grinned. “Oh, you did? I thought that was just a dream.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “You owe me, I saved you from terrible sunburn!”

“Yes, after I advised you to do so”, Lilly interrupted.

“Well, I had to do it before Sirius would!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion after you scanned the group again. “Where is Sirius anyways?”

Peter pointed with his head towards the small jetty, which laid a little to the side.

“All alone?” You wondered and James shrugged.

“Maybe he tries to remember what tomorrows exam was about?”

You huffed, throwing your towel at the curly head, before leaving the group. Luckily, you were already too far away, when James snickered again.

“Three gallons that it´s gonna happen.”

Peter and Remus leaned in. “Nope, I don´t feel like it´s going to be today”, Peter shook his head. Remus observed, how you approached Sirius. “Maybe.”

“All alone, Padfoot?”

Sirius flinched barely noticeable, he hadn´t heard you approaching. His feet were dangling in the cooling water, while his eyes had focused on the horizon.

“You must´ve dreamed of me, you slept so peacefully.”

“I dreamed of our holidays and no exams, in case you actually wondered!”

“Don´t remind me of it”, he replied and sighed heavily. You shrugged reluctant.

“It´s only one left, then just a few days and we all can go home and dream of you.”

He stayed serious and you felt a concern raising.

“Are you okay? It´s not just the exam is it?”

Sirius carefully glanced at you, then back at the lake. You knew him well enough to tell when there was more. “No, it´s not.”

His expression was easily read for you and you already guessed, what his worries were about.

“You should just stay at James´s, they´re not even worth it.”

Finally, Sirius looked back at you. “I don´t want to burden them again, I already spent Christmas at James´s.” Shocked by his statement, you gasped.

“Sirius, you are not a burden! Not for James or anyone!” But then your voice became softer again.

“I´m sure you can spend the holidays at my place as well.”

He rose his eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”

“Sure! I just need to persuade my parents, that they won´t become grandparents!”

He chuckled and you noticed his shoulders relaxing as well.

“Just to clarify; we´d make the most beautiful babies”, he added grinning. Playfully, you punched his shoulder. “So, that´s what you´re dreaming of, huh?”

Then you felt Sirius hands grabbing your side and your weight shifting. However, you held onto his arms and as you felt the water embracing your body, you dragged him in as well.

“You should be punished for pushing me into the water!” You exclaimed when the two of you reached the surface again. “I was; you dragged me with!”

“Someone had to drag you out of that dream!”

The two of you started splashing water around, erupting in a hose fight like children would. You were satisfied, knowing it took off his mind and truthfully, yours as well. You didn´t have to act like adults, not knowing enough about that life anyways, and for once, you could simply be yourself.

Sirius was prevailing and you felt as the ground beneath your feet deepened, until you couldn´t stand anymore. Now you had to swim in order to stay above the surface, Sirius grinned in knowing victory. But then he shifted his weight, gliding through the water until reaching you. Of course, he could still stand due to his height difference.

“I can´t let you drown, can I?” He asked whispering and his arms embraced your hips to pull you closer to him. In the setting sun his skin had a golden tint and his beautiful eyes glistened like honey.

It felt like a dream.

You didn´t think about your actions, letting your body react on it´s own. Your hand reaching up around his neck and your legs hugging around his waist. Sirius leaned a little down until his lips finally brushed against yours. Wet from the lake water, but warm and welcoming. As much as his heart was beating in flurry in his chest, you didn´t push him away. Your hands cupped his face to pull him even closer, your lips opening to deepen the kiss. It was like a dream finally coming true.

#sirius black oneshot #Sirius Black #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #ben barnes #harry potter imagine #mariamermaidimagine

170 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Text

valentine’s day + stray kids ✧

the enablers: @wingkkun by virtue of their existence and @thepixelelf bc of her @newskynet valentine’s day prompt list (which can be found here! check it out :D) anyway you can blame them for my word vomits tonight tomorrow <3 happy early valentine’s day and I hope you enjoy these blurbs!

pairing: stray kids x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 3.5k (total)

genre: fluff, lots of fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

golcha version | the boyz version

SKZ Scenarios Masterlist | SKZ Drabbles Masterlist

1. “shit, what day is it again?”

when chan opens the door to a beaming you, he has no idea what’s going on. he still has headphones around his neck, there are definitely bags under his eyes, he hasn’t slept in maybe close to twenty hours, and there is definitely something important that he’s forgetting, judging by the nonplussed expression that has now slid over your face.

“chan, when did you sleep last night?” you ask, stepping into his dorm. you’re holding something behind your back that chan’s craning his neck to see, but you catch sight and twist away. “hey, no looking.”

the knowledge that you have something is more than enough, though, to get his overly tired brain actually thinking. his eyes narrow. what the heck is he forgetting -

oh.

oh no.

chan scrambles around for his phone as you look over, eyebrows rising as he pats his pockets. “shit, what day is it again?”

you hold up your own phone, giving him an eyeful of your lock screen set to a picture of himself laughing into the camera. he isn’t focused on that, though - he’s focused on the words underneath the time that say “february 14, 2021.”

“oh my god, it’s valentine’s day.”

“no shit, sherlock.” you put a finger to his forehead and press hard. “i made reservations.”

“what? okay, no, i swear you didn’t tell me about this -”

“i didn’t, chan.” you smile, shaking your head. “it was supposed to be a surprise. and i knew you’d forget the day or something because you always do lose track of time - hey, don’t look at me that way, i even made a bet with minho on the way and i’m right - so i came early to force you to sleep for several hours before we go out.”

okay, that’s fair, but chan’s lips curve downward into a pout anyway. “i didn’t forget,” he protests. “well, i forgot today, but i still have something for you! i got it last week.” he looks around frantically, then drags a box out from underneath his bed. “here!”

a wide smile splits your face and you pull your own present from behind your back, a red-wrapped box that chan begins to open as you cuddle the teddy bear he’s handed over to you. “chan, you sap,” you say, words muffled in the bear’s fur. “god i love you.”

“and i love you too,” he replies, pulling out a box of his favorite candy. “kiss?”

laughing, you press your lips together once, twice before pulling away. “sleep time,” you announce. “no kisses until you’ve gotten at least three hours.”

chan all but lunges into bed, trapping you with him between his arms. “sleeping now,” he says, voice muffled into your shirt. “goodnight.”

“good afternoon, more like.” you smile anyway, stroking his hair. “but good night.”

18. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

minho is about to lose his shit in this tiny hospital bed with the sterile white sheets and curtains barring sunlight from streaming on his body. back when his ankle wasn’t broken to high hell, he really hadn’t given the sun enough appreciation. after three days of almost zero movement, though, he swears he’ll actually go outside voluntarily once he gets out of here.

the door opens. a head peeks in.

ah. there’s his daily dose of human sunshine.

a smile slides onto minho’s face as you come in, arms full of snacks and flowers. you place a bouquet of red roses on the little table beside his bed and dump the snacks onto his sheets. “happy valentine’s day, idiot boyfriend who broke his ankle just three days before today.”

minho scowls. “it’s not like i tried to.”

“i know. even you’re not that dumb.” you pat his head mockingly, laughing as minho’s scowl deepens. “sit up, idiot. here, i’ll help.”

he allows his frown to turn into a grudging smile as you help him sit properly in bed, careful not to jar his ankle before passing him one of the bags of chocolates in his lap. “jisung gave this to me for you and asked me to ask you if you would be his valentine.”

minho pauses in opening the bag. “what.”

“jisung for you.” you laugh. “his partner was right next to him laughing their ass off. try the chocolates.”

he picks one out. puts it in his mouth. chews. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

“what - how the fuck do you know what chalk tastes like?”

“i don’t, what the fuck? i just imagine it would taste like this.”

you snort. “so my boyfriend first breaks his ankle dancing three days before we valentine’s, and on this romantic day i learn he’s definitely eaten chalk.” you sigh, snatching a bag of gummies from the sheets. “what a day.”

“i don’t eat chalk!”

“bet.”

he opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off with a kiss. “eat your chalk chocolate,” you direct when you pull away. “or jisung will get upset.”

“ugh fine.” he rolls his eyes. “but i’m only listening to you because i love you.”

“cheeseball.” you smile. “i love you too.”

20. “babe.” / “since when do you call me babe?”

grinning, jisung picks up the bouquet of roses you were about to hand him before falling to the ground in laughter. “these for me?”

“no, they’re for my valentine.” you snatch them back, still wheezing. “which was going to be you, but you ditched me for minho, so now i need to find someone else.”

“aw, come on.” jisung pouts, pursing his lips actively even as you try to hide the smile on your face by turning away. “y/n! y/n. y/nnnnnnnnn. y/n, look at me. please? y/n. babe.”

“what the - jisung - since when do you call me babe?” your half disgusted, half amused face sends him into hysterics as he glomps you in a hug, laughing into your shoulder. “hey, sung! get away! you’re drooling on my clothes!”

“am not!” jisung pulls away, trying to pout but laughing too hard to do so. you just looked so fucking funny. “and what’s wrong with me calling you babe?”

“don’t do it again.” you push his shoulder. “do not. you won’t like the consequences.”

“consequences?”

“one, you don’t get these flowers. i’ll put them in my own room.” you wave the bouquet in front of him. “two, i give chan the all clear to play ‘wow’ on his campus radio station.”

“you wouldn’t dare -”

“three, no kisses for a week.”

jisung falls to his knees. “no, no, y/n, my beautiful and wonderful significant partner, i will never call you babe again, please don’t sentence me the barren world of no kisses for a week just because of my idiot mouth -”

“jesus christ, jisung, get up. you’re making a scene.” you laugh anyway, pulling him up before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. “i was just joking. but please don’t call me babe if you don’t want me to cringe to the next dimension.”

“done deal.” jisung holds his out his hands. “flowers?”

you roll your eyes, handing them over. he breathes in their scent, smiling widely. “they’re so pretty!” then he looks up and winks. “but not as pretty as you.”

at that, you laugh again, crushing the bouquet as you wrap him in a hug. “i love you so much, jisung,” you murmur into his ear.

his arms reach out to loop around your waist as he pulls you closer. “i love you too,” he replies, smiling.

for a moment, you two only stand, finding peace in each other’s warmth. then jisung’s mouth runs once more.

“you know, i wrote my lyrics for ‘wow’ thinking of you.”

“do you have to ruin every moment?”

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin doesn’t even bother to reply to the picture jisung’s just sent of the flowers his partner gave him. he’s too nervous, his stomach literally fluttering as he stops his motorcycle by the curb and wheels it into the shop.

“hi, welcome, what can i - changbin?” you raise an eyebrow. “did you seriously bang up your motorcycle on valentine’s day?”

changbin’s ears turn bright red. he knows it even if he can’t see them. you think he always comes here because something else has magically gone wrong with his motorcycle, but what you don’t know is that he’s been pretending things are wrong with the vehicle for months at this point just so he has an excuse to see you.

and now it’s valentine’s day. the day he chose to fess up and admit how he feels and ask you on a date.

heck.

“nothing’s... broken.” changbin scratches his neck. “uh...”

both of your eyebrows are now high up on your forehead. “so why are you here?”

“i...” he coughs, feeling his ears flare even hotter. “i wanted - i wanted to ask if you -” he looks down, unable to look at you. “i wanted to ask if you would go out with me today. like. on a date.”

silence. he doesn’t have the courage to look up.

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin shrinks behind his motorcycle. holy fuck, this was the worst idea, you’re about to reject him and his heart is going to shatter -

then you step forward, place a hand on the vehicle. “okay, that came out wrong.” you tip his chin up gently so he’s forced to look into your soft, teasing eyes. “what i meant is that i’d love to go on a date with you today. i just didn’t expect you to ask me out on valentine’s day. didn’t seem like a very you thing to do.” you pause. “though i guess considering that song you played for me last time, it isn’t that surprising.”

oh, god. on track. changbin wrote that thinking of you.

“wait, seriously?”

he really just said that out loud. changbin groans, slapping his forehead. “why am i dumb,” he mumbles into his hand.

you laugh, peeling his hand away with grease-covered fingers. “you’re not dumb, bin. just sweet.” as he melts from the use of your nickname, you wave your greasy palm in front of his face. “let me go wash and tell seungmin to close up early. i’ll be out in a second.” you grin. “looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

(later, when you wrap your now clean arms around changbin’s waist on his motorcycle, he smiles so wide it feels like his face is going to split.)

25. “i love you.”

with a relieved sigh, seungmin locks up the shop, wiping grease-stained fingers on a towel. despite the fact that he mostly only handles the register, dirt still manages to get everywhere, even when he tries to be careful.

doesn’t matter. seungmin likes his job, likes it even though it’s a little hard to be independent from his parents after so many years of living off their credit card. the freedom is sweet, though - now he can learn what he wants, do what he wants, and best of all...

now he can date whom he wants.

seungmin smiles, running up to his dorm so he has just enough time to change and shower before meeting you. he cleans up quickly before grabbing the singular rose in a glass on his desk and racing downstairs once more, hair still slightly damp, to meet you in front of the building.

god, you’re beautiful, standing against the backdrop of the afternoon sun. in the moment that you don’t notice him walking out the door, he runs forward, smiling, before engulfing you in a back hug.

“hey - oh, seungmin.” he can hear the smile in your voice as you clutch his hands hanging around your shoulders. “you scared me!”

“sorry,” he says, pulling away to spin you around. god, looking into your laughing face, seungmin knows everything was worth it. he may have lived in the lap of luxury before, attending parties every other weekend and drinking the finest champagne while dressed in the most resplendent clothing (courtesy of the kim family empire), but luxury doesn’t mean much when he was missing real, true love, right? you were one of the first, other than hyunjin, to see through his cold facade and break into the warm heart underneath.

as he hands you the rose, he’s glad, so glad that you gave him the courage to go head to head with his parents for the first time, to finally break away from their strangling control over every bit of his life. what did he need parties and designer clothing and jewels for, anyway? he’s still living, still able to support himself even if it means a little more work. and even if he’s tired, he has your lips to come back to, every day.

“i love you,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, sweetly. “i really do, y/n.”

“so do i,” you breathe, smiling against his lips in reply.

12. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

hyunjin kind of wants to hit you, significant other or not. judging by your shit-eating grin, you probably know exactly how he feels, but you keep your eyes as soft and innocent as possible. “no, i don’t know what day it is, hyunjin. isn’t it just february 14?”

“y/n.”

“hyunjin.”

he groans, sinking dramatically to the ground. “it’s valentine’s day.”

“oh. right.” you adopt a thinking expression, raising your eyes to the sky. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

“y/n!”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” you finally laugh, reaching out a hand to pull him up from the university quad. “hey, get up, hyunjin. you’re going to get your designer clothes dirty.”

shit, he is. hyunjin accepts your hand, dusting grass bits off of his shirt. “you’re so mean,” he whines. “to think i had a whole evening planned and all, just for you to pretend to forget the entire day.”

“ah, but i didn’t forget. i only pretended to.” you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “and to prove it, i have something for you! close your eyes.”

eagerness and apprehension flooding his veins, hyunjin shuts his eyes. for a moment, he hears you digging around in your bag, and then you put something in his hand. “here!”

opening his eyes, hyunjin looks down to see a pair of elegant earrings in his palm. you made them, definitely - he can see the tiny mark of your initials etched in the metal of one earring, his initials on the other - and he smiles wide, so wide, all of your previous transgressions forgotten in this moment. “i love them,” he says, already unfastening the hoops currently in his ears to put the new ones in.

“i thought you would. hey, let me help.” your fingers take the earrings, deftly inserting one into each ear. “perfect.”

“i have something for you two, but you’ll get it later.” hyunjin pockets his old earrings before taking your hand. “right now, i’m taking you on a date.”

“what, i have no say in this?” your eyes sparkle.

“nope!” hyunjin laughs, swinging your arms in the air. “come on, i swear the evening’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“i believe you.” you stop him to kiss him once, softly. “everything’s fun with you, hyunjin.”

15. “shut up and kiss me.”

with the brownie box in his hands almost empty, felix makes every effort to dodge anyone who knows for fear that they’ll ask for one of the last few treats left inside. hyunjin took like five earlier, jesus christ, even when felix warned him he was saving some for you. ungrateful brat.

thankfully, no one accosts him, and he makes it to your meeting place without interruption. there you already are, mindlessly twirling a bouquet of roses around in your fingers. as he approaches, you look up, and felix is (once again) blown away by the intensity of your smile.

some people liken him to the sun. others, with his freckles, compare him to the stars. both, though, felix thinks are more proper descriptors for you and your lovely grin that’s as bright as the sun and the stars combined.

“felix!” you stand as he comes closer, handing him the roses. he passes over the box of brownies and you screech in delight, taking off the lid and popping one of them into your mouth. “oh my god, it’s so good.”

“don’t talk with your mouth full,” felix scolds, smiling anyway. “do you only love me for my brownies?”

“maybe” is the cheeky reply. you laugh as felix reels in mock astonishment, placing a dramatic hand to his chest. “i’ve been betrayed,” he wheezes. “stabbed in the back by my one true love who turned traitor to our romance, how will i live -”

“hey, felix?”

he looks up. “hm?”

your eyes sparkle. “shut up and kiss me.”

your lips taste like chocolate, sweeter even than the brownie you just finished. felix puts his arms around you, rose petals brushing against your back as he holds you close, close, closer -

“oh my god.”

a familiar voice makes felix pull away from your lips as he turns around. “jeongin?”

“nope, nope, nope,” the younger boy chants, eyes fully closed. “i saw none of that, jesus christ, come on, let’s go -”

too late, felix notices the person standing next to his friend, eyes also screwed shut. a smirk rises on his face. that must be jeongin’s crush, he thinks as they race away, the crush he’s been sweating over asking out for the last few weeks.

“aw, man.” felix frowns, suddenly coming to a realization. “jeongin probably wanted to confess here.”

“he’ll do fine,” you laugh, tugging at his arm. “now get back here. we’re not finished.”

felix smiles, pulling you close once more. “no, we aren’t.”

6. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

listen. jeongin did not need to see felix making out with his partner right before he was about to confess. not only did it completely ruin his plans to talk to you in the prettiest part of campus, but he also has an image seared into his mind that he really does not need.

“sorry,” he mutters, still unable to look at you.

“it’s fine.” jeongin can hear the second hand embarrassment in your voice. “it wasn’t your fault. uh.” you pause. “you said... you wanted to tell me something?”

right. jeongin squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the previous images from his brain. “yeah. i did. um.” he swallows, then forces himself to look into eyes that sparkle in the fading sunlight, eyes that he fell in love with so many months ago when you two first worked on that project together.

thankfully, his words don’t fail him. “i just wanted to say i like you a lot, y/n.” jeongin keeps looking at you, even though all he wants to do is run away screaming. “as in... i want to ask you out. if that’s okay with you.”

silence.

then you start giggling.

jeongin frowns. why -

“oh my god, jeongin.” you double over on the bench, laughing even harder. “i’m so sorry.”

his heart sinks as embarrassment begins to burn his ears. “if you don’t like me -”

“no, no!” you straighten, wiping your eyes. “no, it’s not about that. it’s just -” you snort - “oh my god, you wanted to ask me out in the garden, right? but felix was there, and... jesus christ. jeongin, i’m so sorry.”

his cheeks flare red, but he also lets out a major sigh of relief that your laughter wasn’t a rejection. “yeah,” he says, a grudging smile climbing onto his face. “yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”

you wipe your eyes again. “sorry for laughing. i didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything. i’d actually love to go out with you.” you smile. “really.”

“well, thank god for that.” jeongin huffs, cheeks still hot. “or i would’ve gotten this for nothing.” he holds out a small teddy bear. “this is for you.”

“oh.” you take it, eyes turning soft. “oh. no one...” you swallow. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

jeongin’s heart melts, it really does, seeing the slow, shy smile spread across your face as you hold the bear close. “thank you, jeongin.”

“you’re welcome,” he breathes, hardly able to find his words as the sun creates a stunning backdrop behind you as it begins to set. “happy valentine’s day, y/n.”

you smile wide, so wide. “happy valentine’s day, jeongin.”

153 notes · View notes

razrbladekiss · 3 years ago

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..

She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.

Isla was cliche in that sense.

She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.

And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.

She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.

"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.

"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."

It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.

Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.

She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.

"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."

Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.

He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.

"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."

"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."

Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."

"And did you give it to her?"

"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."

"They know that, Ope."

"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"

Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.

What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.

She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.

Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.

None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.

Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.

There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.

They hated cops.

What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.

Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...

Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.

Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.

They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.

It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.

But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.

She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.

He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.

"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."

He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.

Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.

He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.

"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"

"Said he's proud of me."

He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.

Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.

He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.

But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.

"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"

"How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."

His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."

"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."

Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.

Literally.

"Is she gonna be there tonight?

"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"

"Isla!"

"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"

"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"

"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."

Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."

He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.

She loved him a lot.

The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.

"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"

He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.

"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"

"Juice?"

"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."

"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."

"And why is that?"

Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.

"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.

"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."

She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.

"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."

The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.

Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.

Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.

Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.

Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.

The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.

Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.

But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.

"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"

"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."

Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.

At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.

And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.

But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.

The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.

"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."

"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.

She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.

What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.

And, man, did she love Alex Trager.

"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"

Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"

She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.

"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.

He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.

"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.

She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.

"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"

"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.

Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.

Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.

But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.

"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.

She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.

"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.

Christ. This is awkward.

"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."

"How so?"

"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."

"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.

Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.

"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."

"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.

"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.

She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.

It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.

They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.

Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.

The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.

To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.

And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.

"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"

"No, he can't."

"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.

He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"

"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.

But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.

How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.

Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.

"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.

She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.

"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."

"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."

"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.

She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."

"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"

"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"

Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.

"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.

She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.

"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."

Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.

It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.

But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.

"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."

"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.

Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.

"That she's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.

But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.

"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."

Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.

Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.

"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"

"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."

"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."

Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."

She supposed the blonde was right.

There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.

Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.

"I still hate her."

"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.

"She's checking into rehab, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You think she's gonna stick to it?"

"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."

"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."

"You hate her."

"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."

At least somebody is.

She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.

It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.

From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.

And that almost happened, didn't it?

The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.

But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.

Tara, however.

"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."

Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.

Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.

"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.

The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.

"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.

She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.

He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."

Makes sense.

"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."

Isla was rattled.

Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.

Again.

You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.

She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.

The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.

Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.

Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.

"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.

"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."

"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."

"Tonight? Or just in general."

"In general. It's been a few days, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."

Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.

She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.

She hated her cunt boss.

Hated her cunt clients.

She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.

Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.

Well, more than what she already was, anyway.

"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"

"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.

It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.

She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.

She'd never understand that.

And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.

The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.

It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.

She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?

"Wanna head off now?"

"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."

"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.

Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.

Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.

And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.

They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.

Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.

"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.

"What?"

"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"

"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?

Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.

"She's--Piney, she's dead."

#tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

35 notes · View notes

pride-moth · 3 years ago

Text

You only get what you grieve [Stolitz Week Day 5 Hurt/Comfort]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

Stolas has been drifting in and out of consciousness in his tight restraints for hours by the time Blitz, Millie, Moxxie and Loona break down the door to his holding cell. It’s a big, empty room, all metal and a single cupboard. Stolas is tied to a chair, has been for days, no food, no water in his reach. To get it, he would depend on Stella’s mercy and she has shown him none.

It takes him a moment to force his eyes open, and attempt to feel his own limbs when they all pour into the room. He can’t, the ropes around his body have cut off all sensation in them. He can faintly remember them hurting when he was first put in them, but all the pain has long been replaced by unbearable numbness.

Blitz rushes towards him to hold his face between his hands. “Millie! Give me your knife!” he yells and cuts Stolas free the moment he receives the knife.

Stolas’ arms fall to his sides uselessly. “Blitzy?” he says weakly, his voice barely more than a rasp.

“Sir, I think he’s dehydrated,” Moxxie remarks.

“Then get some water, Moxx!” Blitz yells, making Moxxie scurry into the back of the room, stands in front of Stolas again and takes his face back between his hands. “Stolas? Hey, it’s… It’s okay, we’re here now, you’ll be okay.”

“Stella?” Stolas asks, it’s all he can get out.

“She… She’s dead. We… Took care of that. It was… I was… Sorry, there was no other way.”

Stolas doesn’t say anything, but is overcome with a hefty cough.

Moxxie comes running back with a large bottle of water. Blitz yanks it from his hands and holds it carefully to Stolas’ beak. “Slowly,” he says softly, perhaps more softly than Stolas has ever heard him speak.

He drinks, trying to slow himself down, but he hasn’t had a drop of liquid in three days and his body is aching for it with every fiber. His arms start to itch again, so that’s a good sign as well at least. He stops drinking for a moment to whisper “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I wouldn’t just let you die in this hole.” There’s a rumbling above them. Blitz looks up in obvious concern. “Can you get up?”

“I don’t know, I barely feel my limbs.”

The steps above them grow faster. “Loona, you’re strong, can you throw him over your shoulder when we get in a hurry?”

She shrugs. “I guess. Either way, we should probably get running.”

“I thought…?”

“Yeah, we got rid of Stella, but unfortunately Striker still has a bit more of a personal problem with us,” Millie explains while she gestures for Blitz to give her her knife back.

As if on cue, Striker appears in the doorframe, already bleeding from his shoulder, but his eyes hungry for a fight. “You killed my source of income, you destroyed my job and you’re even trying to save this pompous asshole?”

“I’d rather have a pompous asshole than a deranged one!”

“Hand him out to me, I’m sure there are enough overlords and royals in Hell who would be more than willing to pay a good bounty for him. And I would even be generous and give you all 10%. As a peace offer.”

“Fuck you and your peace,” Blitz says, draws his gun and takes a single shot.

The bang echoes throughout the small room and leaves Stolas’ ears ringing. A stinging pain takes over that makes it hard for him to look up and focus. But when he manages to lift his head again, he sees Striker on the ground, struggling to hold onto this bleeding leg.

“Let’s get out of here,” Blitz sighs and motions for everyone to follow him as he jumps over Striker and leaves him behind on the ground.

“Sir?” Moxxie says as though to raise an objection.

“Shut it, Moxx. Loona, take Stolas. Now.” Blitz doesn’t even look back at them.

Loona throws Stolas over her shoulder with surprising ease and carries him outside.

They make their way through the abandoned warehouse building in uneasy silence, only the sound of steps on metal between them.

When they make it outside, the light almost burns Stolas’ eyes. “Let’s go to the office,” Blitz offers.

“But Via…” Stolas says weakly, still hanging over Loona’s shoulder, suddenly overcome with fear for his precious baby.

“She’s there, we got her out of the palace first thing before we went on our little rescue mission. Took one of your butlers, too, so someone can look after her.”

“Oh thank the stars.”

“No, thank me maybe, but you can save that for later.” Blitz fishes his phone out of his pocket and stuffs it back in, frustration all over his face. “Moxxie, would you call an ambulance?”

“What?”

“An ambulance. Weee-oh, weee-oh. Takes people to the hospital, do you even have a brain up there?!”

“Sir, I know what an ambulance is, but why?”

“Well, Striker is bleeding out in there, for one.”

“Don’t you want him dead?”

Blitz laughs. “Are you insane? He’s the only motherfucker in Hell to put up a real fight, do you really think I want to deprive myself of that fun?”

Moxxie sighs, shakes his head, but calls the ambulance without further discussion.

Loona sits Stolas down on the couch of their waiting room. Stolas thanks her and feels sleep gnawing at him more intensely than ever before.

It takes not even two seconds before Octavia storms in and throws her arms around him, “Oh my God, Dad! You’re safe!”

Stolas weakly lifts his arms, thankful to feel them again at all, and wraps them around her. “Of course, Via. I would never leave you alone.”

“I assume Mom didn’t make it?”

Stolas’ looks around helplessly, unsure of how to respond.

“She was on the way to fully execute your dad, so we didn’t really have a choice,” Blitz says, as a matter of fact, but he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it. “I… I’m sorry.”

Octavia nods. A thousand emotions run through her big eyes in a matter of seconds. Grief, relief, anger. “I… I’m glad you’re safe, Dad. I just… I need a moment.” She lets go of him and gets up. She leaves the room.

“Via-” Stolas tries to get up but his legs don’t quite allow him to yet.

“Leave her,” Loona says, “Her mom might have been a bitch, but she was still her mom and it’s hard to lose that. I’ll check on her later.”

Stolas wants to protest, run after his daughter, but simply gives her a sad nod. He’s not running anywhere yet.

“How are you feeling?” Blitz asks as Millie enters the room with some hot chocolate for everyone.

Stolas can only shrug. “Like shit, mostly. I can sort of feel my body again, at least. But, I just… I can’t form a clear thought, it’s all so… foggy. I… I can’t even think of how I feel about Stella being dead. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real.”

Blitz nods and hands him one of the hot chocolate cups. “That’s okay, take your time.”

“You’re being extremely nice to me,” Stolas remarks.

“Stolas, I’m coming off a 72 hour rescue mission and I’m mostly just glad you’re alive. I don’t exactly have energy left over for snarky sarcasm, okay. Being as charmingly abrasive as I am takes work.” Blitz plops down on the couch next to him with a shaky laugh. Stolas leans against him.

“Thank you. I don’t think I would still be alive without you.”

“I would never let you die,” Blitz whispers.

Across the room Millie is gesturing at Moxxie and they excuse themselves from the room moments later.

“Where are they going?”

Blitz sighs. “Ugh, they want to give us the room. As if I’m gonna drop a whole confession speech on you when you barely function.”

Stolas stops. “Confession?”

“Oh crap.” Blitz blushes. “I… Don’t worry about it today, okay? Worry about your daughter and the very awkward funeral you’re about to attend soon. Just… Just let me help you put yourself back together.”

Stolas stays silent.

“Let’s start by massaging your shoulders, those must be killing you. Sorry, maybe not the best time to make jokes about murder. Uhm, anyway.” Blitz puts his mug down, gets off the couch to walk behind Stolas. He starts carefully massaging Stolas’s shoulders.

It feels good, it takes some of the edge off, it brings warmth back into Stolas’ body. It makes everything feel a little less horrible. It makes everything horrible he has experienced in the past few days feel a little farther away. He doesn’t want Blitz to ever stop touching him. He wants to feel these hands on him for as long as he lives. It should be some earth-shattering revelation, but it simply feels like the culmination of everything they’ve been through. “I love you,” he whispers, without thinking.

Blitz stops massaging him for a moment. “You should call a therapist.”

“Because I love you?”

“No, because you’ve just spent three days tied up in a storage unit without food or drink and your wife had to be murdered to get you out of there. You might need some help processing that.”

“Were you even listening to me?” Stolas asks, a little heartbroken.

“I was, Stolas. And I love you, too, you big idiot, but I’m not going to talk about this with you now. Not before we’ve slept for 24 hours. Not before things aren’t somewhat okay with your daughter. I don’t… I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

“It’s not-”

“Please, Stolas. Let me just… Be there for you for now. Platonically.”

Stolas swallows but then he nods and that’s all that’s said about it for the evening. It’s enough, though, for now, that Blitz brings him hot chocolate and massages him and helps him talk to Via and helps him get up and walk again. And Blitz is right, he has other concerns for now. The horror of the moment is over, but there’s so much work ahead.

#helluva boss #stolas x blitz #stolas x blitzo #stolitz #stolitz week #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #my writing

52 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO, “Living the Dream.”

I didn’t get a lot of time to write today, but I hope you all still like it :)

“No! Absolutely not!”

“This isn’t your decision to make.”

“President, this is completely insane. You have to see that.”

The two officers turned to look at the president of the UN who sat in his seat idly fiddling with a paperclip. It spun, once and then twice between the fingers of his right hand before he bothered to look up.

The UN president was a sturdy man in his late sixties with greying hair, dark eyes and a slight paunch. He wasn’t a man of unusual intelligence or anything like that. In fact his greatest ability and charismatic character in front of a crowd, but behind the scenes, the man was racked with indecision and uncertainty.

Admiral Kelly stepped forward and looked around the table at the other ranking officers falling lastly on the UN president who she stuck with a steady gaze, one she had been told when she was captain, had the ability to freeze even the bravest man’s blood in his veins.

“The GA has made their decision and I tend to agree with them.”

“It’s madness.” Another officer said leaning forward in his seat.

“That boy doesn’t have nearly enough experience. He was on your ship for less than a year, has only flown ten combat missions in his entire career, AND only a SINGLE ground Op.”

Another Admiral stood in agreement to back them up, “The boy is barely old enough to grow a beard much less command a ship. He has no experience.”

Admiral kelly kept her eyes narrowed.

She knew the kind of effect she had on people. Even though she was no more than five foot five, her parents had always said her personality added another three feet.

“With all due respect, Admirals, how many of you have more than a year of experience dealing with aliens?”

The men’s jaws worked but they said nothing.

“How many of you have even fought in an alien war?”

More silence.

“How many of you have been on an alien ship?”

No one responded.

She stood from her seat, hands resting behind her back, “If you are expecting to find someone with more experience, you are kidding yourselves. And don’t come at me with some bullshit about how other officers have more combat experience. You may be right but that was against HUMANS, human conflicts and human wars. We need someone who doesn’t have their head so stuck in the past. If we send a vet in, MAYBE they will be able to deal with an alien conflict, and maybe they’d fowl it up by thinking humans are the same as aliens.” She looked around the table, “If we look at this, really look at this, he has the most experience out of ANYONE in the UNSC. He was the first one to discover aliens, he offered himself as a subject to be tested by aliens, he helped to establish communication between our species. He fought in an alien war and lived, and afterwards he came back for more.”

She turned to look around the room, her hands held wide, “The GA love him, the Chairwoman knows him by name, and they asked for him personally. Most of this isn’t even about alien conflict. We don’t have to worry about his prowess on the battlefield if there are never any battles. He doesn’t want to fight them, which means he will do everything possible to avoid war, and, most importantly, he is still loyal to the UNSC.”

She looked around at them with a very serious expression,

“I don’t need to tell you about what It took to survive operation steel eye. I know you've all read the reports. By rights that boy should be suing the UNSC for all it’s worth, but for some reason he is loyal enough to come limping back to lay at the feet of the UNSC. If I were him I would have gotten out at the first opportunity, but he’s proven a loyalty to the UNSC that we can’t just pass up. He has experience, he has guts, and he has loyalty to spare, and, lord forgive me for saying this, but if he does fail, no one will be surprised. But if he succeeds, he will be a success story the UNSC can front for the rest of this millenia.”

Looking around the table she could see that her words were making some impact on the waiting generals. She felt bad about some of the things she was saying. She hated making it out to seem like the boy was just a pawn to be used and discarded if it didn’t turn out, but that was the sort of thing these men understood. She could raise other points, the real points, but they wouldn’t be likely to listen.

She could blab at them all day about her experience with the young man. How she knew him to be ready to work, honest to a fault, funny, charismatic in an awkward sort of way, and probably the most trustworthy young man on the face of the damn planet. If there was anyone she would trust to hold the entire world in the palm of their hand, she would let him do it. Granted she would supervise him to make sure he didn’t accidentally drop it, but she KNEW that given time and some maturing the boy would make an excellent leader.

She could feel it in her bones.

Right into her marrow.

Andshe would always be there to watch him and provide her expertise if he ever needed it.

She wasn’t worried.

Instead of saying any of this she took a deep breath, “We are going into a new age, and we need to have flexible minds. Old war dogs like us aren’t going to cut it, too setin our ways.” She turned to look around the room, “And if he fails, I will take full responsibility for his actions.”

She knew what she was doing was rash, setting her entire career on one man, and no more than a boy at that, but she had faith, and more than that, she knew who had trained him, and had to admit that he had a pretty damn good mentor.

***

Adam Vir had fallen asleep.

No one could really blame him, his flight back from Andromeda had come in late, and he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, but still, slouched against the wall in a cheap plastic chair with his mouth open and a line of drool running down his face was hardly becoming. Despite this, no one gave him a second lance as they hurried up and down the hallway at fort harmony listening to the distant sounds of jet engines starting up on the runway crisp and cool in the early morning chill.

“Lieutenant.” Adam Vir jerked in his seat as a boot gently kicked his shoe, nearly toppling over.

“YES!”

He looked up to find Admiral Kelly standing over him, and made an undignified scrambled to his feet wiping drool from his cheek feeling red rise up from under his collar as he made a wobbly and very undignified salute.

She only smiled, “At ease, Lieutenant, and come with me.”

He let his hand dropped and he quickly followed her up the hall watching as eyes turned to look at them in mild curiosity as they passed.

Admirals didn’t often speak to lowly first lieutenants, “Where are we going, ma’am.”

She turned a corner and he nearly ran himself into the wall, dodging to the side only at the last minute and staggering a bit as he tried to keep pace with her. He was blushing madly now feeling like a clumsy idiot next to her graceful strides.

What he wouldn’t give to be just a little bit more like her, so calm and cool and poised and…

She motioned him into the next door, and he stepped inside,holding it open for her as he did.

It was her office, which he guessed by the name plate on her desk and several shadow boxes on the wall behind her desk, each one of hem holding some medal or award or other she had received for distinguished service.

The glass on those boxes was old and mostly coated in dust not having been disturbed in a long time, as in comparison to the framed picture on her desk, which was lovingly dusted clean every morning. It looked like a picture of her family, brothers, sisters, mother and father. Her father being a very tall, very broad looking islander, while her mother was a very petite asian woman.

She clearly hadn’t interhited her father’s height, and looked more like her mother.

She Turned to sit behind the desk, hands clasped before her as the stars glittered lightly on the shoulders of her uniform.

Kelly nodded for him to sit and he did as requested.

She nodded to the yellow envelope on the desk before her, “Open it.”

He paused, and did as told, opening the envelope and tipping it’s contents out onto the desk.

His eyes were caught at first by a large folded blueprint, which he opened and spread out on half the desk before him.

It didn’t take him long to figure out what it was.

He glanced up at her, “Is this the new ship?”

She nodded.

“Next generation?” he was practically drooling, “What I wouldn’t give to fly one of these.” He looked up at her, “Are you going to be flying her, she’s beautiful.” Granted all he could see were the white lines of the blueprint but he could just imagine.”

She smiled slightly.

“Why don’t you take a look at the rest of it.”

He forced his eyes away from the blueprint and down to the rest of the packet.

On the table before him two glittering silver bars winked up at him.

He reached out with a hand and picked up the captain’ bars frowning. He then turned his attention to a pile of white papers and quickly scanned his eyes over the pages. Aam Vir may have behaved like a big idiot but he had been top of his class at the academy, and unlike the big oaf he looked like, he had pretty good reading comprehension.

Didn’t take him more than a few seconds to scan the page and…. freeze .

He blinked, re-read the lines five or six times.

Re read it again.

Looked up at kelly then back at the paper then back up at kelly.

“I…. what is this?”

She tried to contain the small smile that flickered over the front of his face, “What does it look like.”

“It…. well it LOOKS like a written recommendation for a promotion… a promotion to captain and orders to loan out for the GA…. on the next constructed interstellar ship.. .but….”

He looked up knowing what he hoped but not daring to believe.

It was when her small knowing smile was split by a grin that he knew.

His ears went suddenly muffled, his heart sped up to light speed and he thought he could hear her speaking but he couldn't hear her.

“No way!” he said

“No way, no way no way. No friggin WAY.”

She stood, and he stood, and he found he didn’t know what to do with his hands he found himself walking in a small circle. He held the paper out to hre, “IS this serious, are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” “You’re serious.”

“I just said so.”

He looked down at the page and then back up again one last time, and he was suddenly so overwhelmed that he just couldn’t handle it anymore and he threw his arms around her. It was probably the most unprofessional show of emotion the UNSC had ever seen. No salute, no handshake none of that professional stuff.

Instead, he, a junior officer, was hugging the fleet commander, who he now realized was like almost nine inches shorter than he was, and…. Was he crying?

Yep, crying like a big ugly baby, ok maybe not so bad.

He was laughing and crying and completely overwhelmed to the point of probably losing his promotion.

Luckily for him Admiral Kelly laughed with him.

Man she was was fucking amazing.

Until he eventually pulled away grinning like an idiot and not bothering to wipe his eyes..

“Take a couple deep breaths for me, Captain.”

Captain!

He loved the sound of that.

Captain Vir

Captain Adam Vir of the UNSC.

He took a few deep breaths, calmed himself down enough so he could speak, straightened up, “Thank you ma’am, I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now get out of here, and pull yourself together before the promotion ceremony.”

He grinned again, “Yes Ma’am.” In his enthusiasm turning away, he nearly tripped over his pushed out chair, but managed to right himself before hand, giving a rueful smile and running from the room.

He managed to make it outside before bursting with excitement jumping up into the air and pumping his fist, before dancing around in a circle shouting and chanting.

A couple columns of marching soldiers looked very confused as they walked past him like he was some kind of lunatic, but it didn’t matter to him.

He had made it!

He had made it

His dream had come true and he had made it.

250 notes · View notes

lailyn · 3 years ago

Text

This Magical Journey Called Multiple (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Loki/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Drama, Idiots In Love, Mpreg

Summary: Loki thought he had struck gold this lifetime around, having found not one, but two loves at once. This new life he is carrying could only be a blessing, so why isn't everybody happy?

“I am not injured,” Loki insisted. “It was the heat, it must have gotten to me.”

“It’s still a good idea to take it easy, Bambi. Heat stroke is one of those things that can hit you from out of nowhere,” Tony said.

At Stephen’s mildly-impressed look, Tony gave a modest shrug. “We’ve been together how long? Of course I’ve picked up a few things.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “At least something good has come out of it.”

Ignoring Tony’s indignant ‘Hey!’, Stephen conjured a tall, cool glass of water and offered it to Loki, who looked all manner of singed save for his armour. “But Tony’s right. There may not be external burn injuries, but we humans are about seventy percent water, and I’m guessing you’re not that far off either.”

“I’m not a child,” Loki grumbled. Nevertheless, he dutifully accepted the drink and took a few long gulps, stopping abruptly when a sudden nauseous feeling assaulted his senses the moment the water hit his stomach. “Tony, please don’t make that face. It’s making me want to do things.”

“I can’t help it. It’s my fault. I should have - ”

“No should haves, could haves,�� Loki interrupted. “Stop it. Shit happens.”

“Language,” Tony admonished lightly but his body language was still steeped in guilt.

“Guess I’ve picked up a few things too,” Loki murmured, nodding gratefully at Stephen as his husband stepped in to wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Not only was the Sorcerer Supreme a good lay in bed, he was a mind-reader too. Loki sure got lucky this time around.

Tony straightened up a little in Stephen’s one-armed embrace. “Glad you guys had my back or I would have been smoked brisket.”

At the mention of brisket, the nausea reared its monstrous head again and Loki gagged.

“Let’s get you out of the sun.” Stephen was beginning to sound worried now. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Loki said, swallowing compulsively. Before either of his overbearing husbands could argue, (they were always so noisy when they fussed) he corrected himself, “I will be fine.”

“Right,” Tony snorted. “Nice try. Come on, up. Next time, don’t skip breakfast.”

Stephen snorted even louder. “And the frying-pan said to the kettle, 'Avant, black-browes'.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but it can’t be good,” Tony grunted, nearly toppling under Loki’s weight, who really was more unsteady than he was letting on. “Will you boom-boom-whoosh us a portal already?”

Stephen shook his head and wrapped his arm around Loki’s waist, taking on some of the burden.

“I can walk,” Loki whined.

“Sure you can,” Stephen said kindly. “We just happen to do it better.”

__________________________________________________________

Tony didn’t know how anybody could sleep with the AC blowing full-blast in their face but Loki did just that, and for twelve hours straight too. Their not-strictly-human husband had never slept for such a long stretch of time and it could only be a testament to his exhaustion.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him to give Loki some privacy while he freshened up in the bathroom, his worried eyes met Stephen’s equally troubled gaze.

“Think he’s coming down with something?” Tony asked quietly.

“He seemed fine yesterday when the call came, and he was fighting fit," Stephen mulled as they walked back toward the kitchen together. “Wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he took down those Doombots like they were nothing. He did that flashy move of his, you know the one where he’s like ribbon-dancing in the sky, except his ribbons turned into deadly blades the minute they came into contact with a Bot.”

“I have to take your word for it, I guess. I was kinda busy keeping a few buildings standing,” Stephen said enviously, as it was a sight he wouldn’t have minded seeing himself. Watching Loki in battle was always a spectacle, even back when they were still rivals.

Tony must have misconstrued the envy in his voice and decided that a little teasing was in order. “Aw, I’m sure you were great, honey.” He reached out to squeeze Stephen’s bicep. “Feeling a little sore there?”

“I held them up by magic but thank you for asking,” Stephen said dryly. “I wouldn’t mind a massage though, if you’re offering me one.”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in my tight schedule.” Kisses stolen in passing whilst walking down hallways were often sweet, made sweeter still by the relief Tony could feel bleeding through their locked lips. It had not been too long ago that they had almost lost Loki to that terrible illness, and it was that same shared fear that had plagued both Stephen and him since yesterday.

As they sat back down to their now-cold breakfast, he could see just how much Stephen’s face had brightened. The appetite that was almost killed by JARVIS’ mid-meal interruption to inform them that Loki was finally awake came back with a vengeance, and Tony shoveled his eggs into his mouth like a man starving.

It was after a few bites that he deemed his hunger momentarily sated enough to broach another issue that had been weighing on him.

"How was Loki...the night before last?" Tony asked tentatively.

It was an arrangement only recently agreed upon that they made use of the ten bedrooms in the penthouse, with each claiming a bedroom of his own and still having the freedom to choose where and with whom to spend the night. It came about after Stephen's odd hours and Tony's unpredictable work frenzies clashed with Loki's need for absolute silence when sleeping.

Tony had never met a lighter sleeper in his life. So when Stephen got called out on Sorcerer Supreme business for three nights in a row, it did not surprise either of them when Loki, tired of the interruptions to his beauty sleep, set fire to the bed.

Tony wished the mercurial God of Chaos could spare the custom-made, eiderdown-covered Alaskan king bed...alas, new beds he could always buy, but there was only one of Loki.

"Sleep in separate bedrooms! It's the secret to a happy marriage, don't you ever watch The Crown?" Pepper had said, rubbing salt into the wound the next day when he called her up the next day to moan. "God knows you have enough rooms to sleep in a different one for every night of the month."

Which was an exaggeration of course, for only the top floor of the penthouse had four bedrooms on the same floor, one for each of them, and the biggest, most lavish one reserved for when they needed to spend time together as a proper throuple.

Clearly perturbed by Tony's question, Stephen carefully set his fork back on his plate. "Could you be more specific?"

"Did he seem a little...impatient to you?"

"Impatient?" Stephen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know…" Tony drawled, "More...urgent. Demanding."

"You mean horny," Stephen deadpanned.

"Shhh. You know he doesn't like that word!" Tony whispered loudly. "It depreciates his aesthetic."

Stephen chuckled. "You can say horny, Tony. Loki's not here."

"And now he is," a sultry voice suddenly spoke from behind, and Stephen nearly yelped.

"Loki!" He gasped. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Loki said coolly, sliding into the empty chair beside Tony, to whom he directed his next question. "So what else does he say about me when I'm not here?"

"Only the most flattering things, sweetness." Tony rubbed his hand up and down Loki's back. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm drunk on sleep." Loki's nostrils flared as he tried to kill the oncoming yawn but failed. "But not bad. You?"

"Nothing an Advil or two can't fix." Tony reached out a hand to stop Loki from stealing a piece of toast off his plate. "I think Stephen's wanting to take your spinal fluid or brain tissue or something first."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Just your blood will do."

"Why?" Loki whined. "I hate those adamantium needles, they itch like a bitch."

Tony let out a scandalous whisper. "Language!"

"I want to make sure there's no electrolyte imbalance and that your sugar level's okay. You were vomiting quite profusely yesterday," Stephen said,

"I'm not anymore," Loki pointed out. "I feel absolutely fine."

"It's just a precaution, Loki," Stephen tried again but before he could say anything further, Loki held up a regal hand.

"And I can tell you with absolute certainty that my blood sugar level is very low because I am very, very hungry and if you do not feed me within the next thirty seconds I will eat your face," he growled. "Literally."

Stephen slowly, wordlessly, slid his plate across the table.

"Thank you, Stephen," Loki said sweetly before attacking the egg-white and quinoa omelette with gusto. He swallowed the first bite and made a face. "This is nasty."

A heated debate and a number of mortal threats later, Loki was well on his way out the door. “Anytime today, Stark. Get a move on.”

“Can’t you go?” Tony pleaded. “I’ve never done my own grocery shopping before.”

Stephen looked at him incredulously. “You don’t have to do anything. You just have to prepare the money when he asks and make sure he doesn’t buy out every stall he happens to like.”

Loki tapped his foot impatiently. “Shall I go by myself then?”

“No!” Both Stephen and Tony said in unison.

“Nice try, Bambi,” Tony added. To Stephen, “You owe me.”

“This and more.” Stephen kissed Tony quickly. “Bring him back in one piece if you can. Oh, and I’m speed-dial number one, two and three on both your phones.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Stephen's eyes disappeared behind his smile. “Loki, babe? Can you come here for a sec?”

Loki marched back to where Stephen and Tony were still huddled by the kitchen counter. “What is it now?”

Stephen dropped an effervescent electrolyte tablet into a glass of water. “Drink this before you go. You need to replenish your electrolytes.”

Loki groaned. “Stephen, I am electrolyted up to my eyeballs. Enough, please.”

“Today’s going to be a hot day, according to the weather forecast,” Stephen warned. “Can’t risk you getting dehydrated again.”

“It can’t possibly be hotter than yesterday," Loki said. He turned to Tony. "You need to figure out how to increase your heat resistance to Doom's fire-breathing Bots, I can't be covering you all the time. What if I'm not there?"

Stephen’s gaze vacillated between his two lovers in alarm. “Are we expecting any trouble today?”

“No, it was simply a theoretical question,” Loki said patiently. “Tony needs to build better suits.”

“And you need to see a sleep hygienist,” Tony said, just as sweetly. “Can’t have you burning any more beds. We are living in a high-rise, you know.”

Loki shrugged. “It’s not like both of you can’t fly.”

Stephen chuckled, “He’s got a point.”

“Whose side are you on?” Tony grumbled to himself. “Are we going or what?”

Stephen sighed. If he had not made prior arrangements to visit Kamar-Taj that day, he would have been more than happy to take Tony’s place.

He kissed Loki, a tad harder than usual. "Be careful, you two."

Loki laughed. "We're going to the market, Stephen, not off-world to another planet."

“Thank you for the reassurance, Loki.”

Loki’s kiss took Stephen by surprise, not so much the hard pinch Loki gave his cheek. “You fret too much.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s sweet.” Loki’s green eyes glinted. “Makes me want to eat your face every time.”

__________________________________________________________

Strolling the gorgeous Botanical Garden in the Bronx at this time of year was...interesting. Being public figures, it was a given that they would be recognised, but most everybody gave them a wide berth, wholly content with admiring from afar.

If Tony had reservations before, they disappeared quickly enough. Loki’s excitement and appreciation for the diverse arrays of artisan foods was contagious, and as they went from stall to stall perusing the seasonal produce on offer, Tony found himself in danger of doing the very thing he had promised Stephen he would keep Loki from doing.

“That was the best goat cheese I’ve ever tasted,” Tony gushed, arms laden with carrier bags full of cheeses, preserves and a variety of herb-infused olive oils. “You sure this is enough?”

“Nope,” Loki said. “But next week we can get Stephen to come with us and buy some more.”

“Sounds like a plan. Your ice cream’s melting.”

Loki held it out and Tony took a lick. “That’s yum.”

“You can have it if you want,” Loki said, sounding suddenly faint.

Tony frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Loki took in a few deep breaths, his face suddenly the colour of parchment. “I don’t know.”

The ice cream cone slipped out of his hand onto the ground when he abruptly bent at the waist, propping himself on his knees. “Just...give me a moment.”

Tony fumbled with the bags, managing to shift them all onto one hand, freeing the other so he could take Loki’s arm. He led his husband to a bench and sat him down.

“Do you feel sick again?” Tony asked, palming Loki’s forehead. His hand came away clammy. “ Do you need some water?”

Loki nodded his head to the first question, and shook his head to the second. His throat bobbed up and down erratically as though he was trying very hard not to lose the content of his stomach in front of all these people.

“I’m calling Stephen.”

“No!” Loki lunged to try to snatch the phone out of Tony’s hand, but the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain like a knife to his stomach. He doubled over and moaned in pain.

“Loki.” Tony dropped onto the bench and placed a hand on the small of Loki’s back. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stabbed the speed dial on his phone and began to pace. “Come on, come on, pick up.”

By a stroke of fortune, Stephen answered before the first dial tone ended, his “Yeah?” a cross between irritable and amused.

“We have a situation,” Tony said tensely.

“That bad, huh?”

Stephen’s indifference was expected given Tony’s propensity for drama, but today was not the day. "Strange, I’m not kidding. I think you need to come get us.“

"Loki may not have the patience for fresh produce and mingling but I’m sure I can trust you to keep him from terrorising the poor farmers for a few hours,” Stephen said, letting out a small chuckle at the imagery. “Or has he stabbed someone already?”

Tony remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Tony?” Stephen began to feel uneasy. “Please tell me Loki did not actually stab someone?”

“Loki’s not feeling well."

There was a sudden pause. When next Stephen spoke, his voice sounded strange. "Well, come on home.”

Loki lifted his head, as though he was listening in on the conversation all along.

“Can you walk?” Tony asked quietly. He helped Loki to his feet, only to regret it a second later. He did not think it was possible for Loki’s face to go that many shades paler, but it did.

Tony cradled the phone to his ear and quickly pushed his swaying husband back onto the bench. “Yeah…that’s a negative.”

Another pause ensued; thankfully it was a shorter one this time.

“Stay where you are.”

TBC

#ironstrangefrost #frostiron #strangefrost #ironstrage #pregnant loki #mpreg #mpreg loki #fic

23 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 9

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies? RATING: General Audience

NOTE - I finally got my ass in gear and finished something, thank Loki.

Raven paced worriedly. Her family were to arrive today, meaning she would be required to reveal herself to Loki, and all that entailed. She prepared herself for whatever was to come. Her most likely scenarios, she surmised, was being ignored and given the silent treatment or being met with anger and confrontation until he said his piece, then being given the silent treatment. Neither were something she was looking forward to but she fully expected one of those to occur.

She prepared her belongings again so to stop herself from fidgeting too much in stress. Sadly, it did nothing to assist her but she needed to do something as she felt she would go insane waiting otherwise. She toyed with her fingers a lot, pinching the skin in her hands, something she was prone to doing when stressed.

When she heard a loud roaring noise, she jumped, having gotten herself so highly strung that she had not expected the loud noise and had caused a dramatic reaction as a result. She rushed to her window to see what had occurred and gulped when she saw the banner of the Light Elf royal family making their way from the Bifrost site across the bridge and towards Asgard. With a deep breath, she readied for what was to come.

Loki ignored the pageantry he knew was heading to the city. He heard the Bifrost and, like Raven, went to his window to see who was coming, unlike her, his room had a balcony but he did not use it, especially when he did not want anyone to see him. He knew his mother and father would call for him soon so he made his room impervious to their seidr and locked himself in while they met the Ljósáfar royals. It was petulant and juvenile but he simply was not in the mood. He would need to build up the effort to deal with the whole situation.

He felt when his parents attempted to make their way through his defences, their momentary pushes on his seidr but over eleven hundred years of knowing their son, they knew that he was not going to be reached through such means. They did not even bother to try and open his doors physically, he had learnt to lock them manually by the time he was three hundred and not in the mood for others, so instead, Frigga placed a note under the door simply telling her son that he was to be to the main hall in half an hour in some capacity or another before he embarrassed himself and Asgard.

Scowling, he tossed the note aside. He knew this would not be when it mattered but the dinner declaring their imminent marriage. He wanted to conjure a clone to do it but he would have to kiss Raven’s hand at the very least and they would not be able to do such. Gritting his teeth, he prepared for what was to come.

* Raven tidied her clothes and looked over herself in the mirror. She looked as well as she could, considering she was inwardly panicking more than she thought was healthy. She had not slept properly for some time thinking of how Loki would react and the guilt that she felt as a result of deceiving him which conflicted terribly with the feelings of anger and resentment she had for him saying the things he had said about her, unknowingly to her face. She felt terrible for being deceitful, she genuinely did but it conflicted so greatly with her own feelings from how he spoke of her. She didn’t know how to deal with it, but when the knock came on her door to inform her that her family had arrived, she was forced to no longer fret about what was going to happen and instead, have to live through it. Inhaling deeply, she straightened her dress and began her way to the main hallway to meet them.

Seeing her family speaking with the Aesir royals, Raven smiled slightly as she walked forward. Her brothers noted her and nodded politely as they were always trained to do. It was not commonplace for Light Elf royals to openly show affection so she was not upset with a lack of reaction to her. When Frigga noticed her, she smiled encouragingly at her, though there was clearly a slight worry in her face too. It was only when Raven stood beside them did her parents notice her. She waited patiently until they finished speaking to the Aesir royals with a polite smile she had been trained to do since before she could even remember.

Thor, who had been speaking with her brothers, watched diligently, noting how the male offspring of the Light Elves spoke freely whilst Raven remained silent. He had known that she had been very vocal and strong-minded when she chastised Loki for his wrongdoings, so he wondered how she was both so timid and meek in appearance with her family, yet so able for his Silvertongued and formidable brother simultaneously.

“Raven.” Her mother acknowledged her first. “I hope you have settled alright.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Thor could only frown. With no others bar the two families there, he could not fathom why she spoke so formally with her own parents but he could say nothing as it was not his place to do so.

“And your betrothed is currently under the weather, we hear?”

Raven had not been told of any such excuses and she had actually seen Loki the day before from her window, pacing on a lower floor clearly discussing something with his brother and he had not seemed unwell. “I am afraid so. But he will undoubtedly be joining us all soon again.” She looked to Thor who shrugged ever so slightly, telling her that he too had not been aware of such excuses.

“It was my doing,” He confessed. “I may have been less than careful with our sparring yesterday and struck him to the side of the head too hard, he is feeling dizzy and such as a result.”

“Good Heavens.” Raven’s father shuddered. “I could only imagine the damage such a strike would inflict from a lad such as yourself.”

With nods of agreement, a motion to one of the smaller rooms was made so that everyone could converse more intimately.

For three hours, Raven eyed the door carefully whenever the opportunity arose, wondering when Loki would finally join them and in turn, cause issues but there was no sign of him. Her parents and brothers seemed to not take any notice and spoke at length with the Aesir royals, all while Raven merely nodded politely and smiled, only injecting herself into the conversation when forced to by Thor or Frigga. Odin, she had come to notice from her time in Asgard, was a lot like her own father, more focused on his more direct heir than his other child/children. In many respects, it taught her a little more about Loki. He referenced his son but not as he did Thor and by Norns, did it show. She felt that was ironic. They had more in common that Loki could know about since he had not bothered to even attempt to find out.

All through the time they spoke, she wondered why Loki had not turned up. Part of her suspected that he had realised who she really was and wanted nothing to do with the whole charade, which she would not be able to argue in many ways, but then again, she did not know that he had, he also struck her as the type to very much make it clear he did not like being tricked in any manner. Over and over, she played out different reasons for him not being there in her head, but all that she was able to conclude was that he was nothing more than a petulant child, having a tantrum in his room rather than actually facing the situation. He was not the only one forced into the situation yet he had not the manner nor the courage to actually face it.

When her parents and brothers went to settle into their rooms and prepare for the feast that would come that evening, she walked with them to their rooms quietly. Her focus was entirely on finding Loki and having the argument that she knew needed to come. She hated conflict but there was no manner in which she could avoid this one and it needed to happen soon. All she could conclude is that Loki, a smart and naturally mischievous being himself had arrived at the correct conclusion as to who she really was and was not happy with being tricked. Saying nothing and bowing as her parents and brothers entered their rooms, she walked back to the royal wing with Thor by her side.

“So, what is the truth?” She asked him.

“I have to say, I do not know. I have not seen my idiot brother since yesterday. He was ranting that I am not yet betrothed and he has to be and how unjust such is. Of course, if he got his head out of his rear end for a few moments, he would see what is happening around him, but that would mean he had taken more than a moment to focus on something that is not him and that will not be occurring.” Thor sighed. “He usually has the sense to not embarrass himself in front of foreign dignitaries in such a manner, I have no idea why he decided to start today.” “I guess I better find out,” Raven stated, looking forward, readying herself for what was to come.

“Do you require assistance?” Thor offered. “No, thank you. You are at risk of a blade.”

Thor nodded slightly. Loki was prone to attempting to stab him when he got angry with him.

“He is no risk to me. His words cannot hurt me. After all, I have heard everything he had to say and at worst, he will spit similar again and then go silent.” “Most likely. I am close by if you want my assistance,” He offered.

“Thank you but I will be fine.”

Thor walked on to his own rooms when she confirmed that she felt she would be fine. Though he was slightly concerned, he knew behind the peculiarly quiet manner in which she interacted with her family, Raven had the ability to take care of herself verbally.

* Raven readied herself to confront Loki. She changed out of the clothes she had met her parents in to something more comfortable but even more beautiful. She took a moment to look over the dress. She had taught herself how to make it while she waited for her parents’ arrival and for the wedding in her days of boredom. Bored and wanting to learn new skills, she had a maid get her some material and she sewed. Some of the seams were not entirely perfect but she thought it was beautiful and making it herself made her feel all the more proud of it. With a ribbon in her hair that matched it perfectly, she twirled once more and walked out of the room, inhaling deeply as she readied for what was to come.

She walked to Loki’s door with purpose, looking at it apprehensively for a moment before inhaling deeply again and knocked, making a mental note to herself to not keep inhaling so deeply, as she would make herself light-headed if she continued to do so. When Loki’s maid that she temporarily replaced opened the door, she cocked her head slightly, not recognising the elf on the other side. “Hello, can I assist you?” “I must speak with His Highness.” Raven smiled kindly.

“Regarding?” “His betrothed.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “Of course.” She seemed to be readying to open the door for a moment before she paused. “I am not sure if Prince Loki will accept such a request. He…”

“Is scowling in his room, refusing to open the door and growling incoherently on occasion?” Raven wagered.

“I...How could you…?” The maid was bewildered at how she could ever know that. “Know that? I just do.” Raven remembered when of the days that Loki arrived back to his rooms when she was disguised as his maid and did such after Thor and his friends had caused him to be dragged into a situation he had not been involved in and for some reason, he seemed to have been forced to have to shoulder more of the blame than they had when they had been the ones that did the deed and he had not. He stormed into his rooms and would not come out for a few days. “I still must speak with him. I know he is in no want of company but I still must speak with him urgently.” The maid moved to the side and opened the door fully with a facial expression that read as ‘good luck’.

“Thank you.” Raven walked over to the bedroom door and prepared herself for what was to come before knocking on the door the same way she had when she had been pretending to be his maid.

She had not known if Loki would actually acknowledge her knocking. She half expected that he would ignore her.

“I do not think…” His maid began.

Her words silenced when the door glowed green before opening. “Tatianna, be so kind as to retrieve my books from the library master, please.” Loki requested politely.

“Of course, Your Highness.” She curtseyed slightly with a large smile and rushed out of the room.

Raven’s brow rose at the kind manner in which Loki spoke to Tatianna and her relaxed demeanour in return.

With the door closed, there was a moment of silence between the pair. Loki looked over Raven’s dress and being in an analytical manner while Raven looked at Loki waiting for him to begin his tirade at her fooling him.

“I always suspected there was something off with you.” Loki declared.

“You are a warrior, you would be terrible or dead if you did not have a sense of when something is off.” “I hate liars.” “And I hate those that are two-faced.”

“Same difference in this case,” Loki growled eyeing her suspiciously. “I think it farcical for a maid to call me two-faced when I am sure you broke multiple records with the speed you rushed to your mistress with my words.”

Raven paused for a moment replaying his words in her head, realising after a moment that he had not actually realised what was happening. “I actually never ran to anyone at all or even said anything to anyone about your words outside of Prince Thor.”

Loki froze to the spot. “Thor?” “Your brother, future King of Asgard, Thor.”

“Why Thor?” He demanded.

“What concern is it of yours?”

Loki walked over, towering over her. “Did she honestly decide to speak to my brother about me? Have her little spy go to him with all the dirty details?” Raven was used to Loki’s moods so he did not concern her too greatly, but had she not been so used to him, she could easily have been intimidated. “It’s Raven, not ‘she’.”

“I’m sure she cares so greatly about that.” “I do, that is why I am correcting you, yet again. I have told you time and again to use my name and stop calling me ‘she’ or ‘her’, yet you still insist on not saying it.”

Loki’s brow furrowed at her words before the realisation came to him. His mother’s insistence in speaking with her when she saw her looking upset in the garden, Thor’s peculiar reaction on seeing her. “You’re not her maid.”

“I told you I was not.”

His eyes widened at the confirmation. “You’re actually her.”

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #Hiding in Plain Sight #Chapter 9

46 notes · View notes