#he was sitting on the bleachers with a note from his doctor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finelinefae · 7 months ago

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the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival

word count: 6.7k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals

a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!

. . .

Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.

Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours.

It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis.

Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.

She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying.

However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path.

Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all.

Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there.

For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best.

She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.

When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle.

It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed.

Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for.

His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans.

Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him.

“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out.

He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”

Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."

Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them.

Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?”

“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on.

Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot.

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.

“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles.

It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him.

“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”

“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”

“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.”

There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.”

He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards.

“But you’re-”

“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish.

She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.

As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.

The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.

Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.

The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy.

Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.

As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.

In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.

She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway.

Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face.

She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water.

“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.”

Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts.

. . .

Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis.

He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes.

He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with.

She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match.

Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat.

He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better.

But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents.

Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated.

He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them.

It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again.

Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.

“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone.

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”

“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.

“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?”

“No,” Harry lied.

“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone.

A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere.

His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.

. . .

Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school.

“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her.

“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to.

Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him.

“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?”

“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.

Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”

Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was.

Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her.

“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly.

“What?”

“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at.

“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”

“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”

Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation.

Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.

“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.

Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”

Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry.

He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.

Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.

“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.

“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”

“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.

Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.

"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.

"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.

"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,”

Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.”

“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned.

“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained.

Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,” Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?”

Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face.

He shrugged, “But I always call you that,”

Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing.

‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’.

Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further.

She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.

“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”

Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him.

“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.

Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her.

As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.

Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured.

Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N.

Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all.

. . .

With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them.

During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.

Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities.

However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible.

“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.

“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.

“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision.

Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him.

Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken.

Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?”

Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”

“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”

Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.”

“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him.

“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.”

She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him.

Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others.

“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet.

Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled.

“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down.

“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.

“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him.

“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam.

“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”

Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”

Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”

Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”

Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”

Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”

“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.

“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.

“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”

The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly, "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.

But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."

Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.

But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers.

“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.

Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.

. . .

After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend. He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time.

“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder.

“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned.

“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.

Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her.

Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,”

Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,”

“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”

“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,”

“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked.

Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.

Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one.

“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.

“That’s it?” Adam snickers.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”

“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard.

"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.

Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."

Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."

Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."

Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”

Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed.

Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.

Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.”

Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."

Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.

"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.

Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.

"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."

Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.

Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?"

He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.

With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.

As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.

This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead.

Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted.

She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to.

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astrxq · 1 month ago

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modern!jacaerys velaryon x reader — prompt list 1.25 from my autumn party!

words: 3.7k

notes: “You have my permission to do whatever you want with me.” — modern!jace gets injured in one of his games. you’re taking care of him and his broken leg doesn’t let him fully thank you properly. requested. (p in v, mutual masturbation, kissing… idk i think that’s all)

The game had always been part of Jace’s life — an anchor that grounded him in ways you knew little else could. The roar of the crowd, the pounding of feet against turf, the adrenaline that rushed through him like an electric current. You’d seen it in his eyes, the fire that lit up when he was out there, a star player on his college football team, and you’d always admired that about him. But everything changed the moment his body collided with another player, sending him crashing to the ground.

The gasp that tore from your chest in the stands still echoed in your ears, even days after the incident. It was supposed to be a regular game, just another weekend of watching him dominate the field. But it wasn’t. The moment Jace didn’t get up, a sickening knot tightened in your stomach, and you bolted down from the bleachers faster than your mind could process.

Hours later, you found yourself in a hospital room, standing at his bedside as he came to. His leg was in a cast, elevated in a sling, his face contorted in pain and frustration. It wasn’t long before the doctors confirmed the worst — his leg was broken, and with it, his football season. Maybe even his future.

The days that followed felt like a blur, a mix of managing your own emotions and tending to Jace’s frustration. His fire, once burning bright, had dulled, replaced with a constant state of agitation. He wasn’t used to being still, to not moving forward, and now he was stuck — confined to his bed, helpless in ways he’d never been before.

You spent most of your days at his side, tending to his needs, trying to make things easier for him. You’d bring food, help him get comfortable, change his bandages, and offer your presence. At first, it felt like you were walking on eggshells, unsure of how to navigate his moods. The Jace you knew was confident, in control, and this new reality was jarring for him.

But, slowly, you began to find a rhythm. He'd make sarcastic remarks about his situation, and you'd tease him back, trying to keep the mood light. Some days, he’d smile, and you’d feel a flicker of relief. On others, he was silent, brooding, and you would let him be, sensing he needed space.

Today, though, something felt different. You’d come over to his place after your classes, as usual, carrying a bag of groceries and some takeout from his favorite restaurant. When you walked into his room, he was already sprawled across the bed, his leg propped up, flipping through the channels on the TV with a bored expression.

“You’re here,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been in days.

“Of course I am,” you replied, dropping your bag on his desk before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Did you think I’d forget about you?”

He gave you a lopsided grin, shaking his head. “Nah. You wouldn’t let me suffer through this alone.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Exactly. Now, I brought food, so you don’t have to complain about hospital food for the millionth time.”

“God, you’re a lifesaver.” He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his touch sent a warm, familiar shiver down your spine. It was always like that with Jace — the smallest gestures felt electric, even when they weren’t meant to be. And lately, you’d noticed a shift in the way he looked at you. The frustration of his injury was still there, but beneath it, something else simmered — a tension that neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

After you set up the food and helped him get comfortable, you both ate in silence, the TV playing softly in the background. It was a quiet evening, just the two of you in his room, and as the night wore on, the tension that had been building seemed to grow heavier.

Jace had been staring at you more, his eyes lingering when you moved around the room. You felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken hunger in his expression that made your heart race. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this around him, but now, with his injury forcing him into stillness, it seemed like all the pent-up energy had nowhere to go but into the space between you.

As you were cleaning up, Jace’s voice broke the silence. “You’ve been doing so much for me.”

You turned to him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

He nodded, but his eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah, but…I’ve been kind of a pain. I haven’t exactly made it easy.”

You bit your lip, considering your response. “You’re going through a lot, Jace. It’s okay.”

“I just hate feeling useless,” he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. “Like I can’t do anything. Not even for you.”

You sat beside him on the bed, your hand resting on his arm. “You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m here because I want to be.”

He looked at you then, his brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His hand moved to your thigh, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. The air between you felt thick, charged with something that had been building for days.

“Sometimes…I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. “But I don’t want to take you for granted.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise in your chest as his hand lingered on your leg. “You’re not taking me for granted, Jace. I — ” Your words caught in your throat as his fingers trailed higher, just barely under the hem of your shorts.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was softer now, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak.

“Have you ever thought about…” He hesitated for a moment, his hand pausing. “I mean, with my leg like this, I can’t do much, but I’ve been thinking…”

He trailed off, turning his attention back to the TV, as if suddenly embarrassed. “Never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You let out a quiet breath, feeling the tension thicken, but you didn’t press him. Instead, you watched the TV in silence, your mind racing. Every few minutes, he shifted uncomfortably, and you leaned over to help him adjust. The cast on his leg was heavy, awkward, and you could see the way his muscles tensed with every small movement, his jaw tight with frustration.

Each time you leaned in to help, your bodies brushed together — your arm grazing his chest, your hand on his waist as you lifted his leg gently to prop it on more pillows. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your fingers, his scent filling your senses as you worked to make him comfortable.

And each time, you noticed the subtle change in his breathing. A small hitch when your hand lingered a little too long on his thigh, or when your chest brushed against his arm as you reached across him to adjust his pillows. His breath came out in slow, uneven exhales, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, lingering on the curve of your neck, the dip of your shirt, his eyes darkening with every stolen glance.

Finally, after shifting him again, you noticed the way his hand clenched at the sheets, his chest rising and falling faster than before.

“Do you need to move again?” you asked softly, half-expecting another request.

Jace looked at you, his lips parting as if to answer, but instead, he reached up, his hand finding the back of your neck. The gesture was gentle, but firm, guiding you down until your lips met his.

The kiss caught you off guard, but it didn’t take long for you to melt into him. His mouth was warm, eager, and you felt the familiar tug of desire pulling you closer. His fingers curled in your hair, and he deepened the kiss, his frustration melting into something else entirely — something raw, unrestrained.

The room seemed to hum with the energy between you, the forgotten TV playing in the background as your hands moved instinctively to brace yourself against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest under your palms. His leg might’ve been broken, but there was nothing weak in the way he kissed you, nothing hesitant in the way he held you closer.

Jace’s hands moved to cradle you, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck, tracing the curve of your spine. The low groan that escaped his throat made your stomach twist with longing.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were darker, more focused. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice rough, “about this… a lot.”

You blinked, catching your breath. "You have?"

He nodded, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. You shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of the closeness between you. His gaze was hot, searing, and for the first time, you noticed the flicker of vulnerability in his expression.

You held his gaze, feeling the heat radiating between you like a live wire, drawing you both closer. The air crackled with anticipation, and your heart raced as you contemplated the shift in your relationship. Jace’s breath was warm against your skin, the rhythm of it matching the quickening beat of your heart.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, and you melted into him, your body instinctively moving closer. His kiss was urgent, hungry, igniting a fire deep within you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, feeling the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Jace deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against your lower lip, teasing, coaxing you to open up. A soft whimper escaped your throat as you parted your lips, allowing him entry. The taste of him was intoxicating — familiar and sweet, sending a rush of heat through your body. You lost yourself in the moment, forgetting the world outside, forgetting everything except for the way he made you feel.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you against him, the warmth of his body igniting your senses. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers coursing through you. You felt alive, every nerve ending on high alert, responding to his touch as he explored the curve of your waist and the softness of your skin. The intensity of the kiss only heightened your desire, his tongue sliding against yours, a dance that felt both foreign and thrilling.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmured against your lips, breaking the kiss momentarily. His voice was husky, thick with yearning, and it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

You breathed out a shaky laugh, your fingers trailing down the strong lines of his arms, marveling at how effortlessly he pulled you into this world where nothing else mattered. “Me too,” you admitted, the confession slipping past your lips before you could second-guess yourself.

He captured your mouth again, the kiss more urgent this time, as if he were trying to convey everything he felt through the heat of his lips and the soft pressure of his body against yours. You pressed against him, your heart racing, feeling the weight of his desire mingling with your own. The world outside faded into insignificance, leaving just the two of you lost in the moment.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Jace pulled back, his brow furrowing slightly as he regarded you. “I know I can’t do a lot right now…” he said, his voice low and serious. He trailed off.

You met his gaze, your heart still racing from the intensity of the kiss, but a flicker of concern clouded your thoughts. The weight of his broken leg loomed over you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even in this moment, it might be a barrier.

“Jace, are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, easing the tension in the air. “I broke my leg, not my ability to have sex,” he replied, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. The teasing glint in his eyes made you smile despite your worries, but the sincerity behind his laughter remained.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. “That’s not really what I meant,” you said, your tone playful yet serious. “I just don’t want to accidentally hurt you while we’re… you know.”

His expression softened, the humor giving way to something deeper. “Trust me, I’m still very much up for it,” he assured you, his fingers brushing along your arm, igniting warmth in their wake. “You have my permission to do whatever you want with me.”

He held your gaze with an intensity that made your heart flutter, and before you could fully process it, his hands found your hips. Gently, he maneuvered you to straddle him, the warmth of his body igniting a thrill deep within you. You could feel the solidness of him beneath you, and it sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and playful, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You nodded, breathless, as you leaned in to capture his mouth again. The kiss deepened, a sweet exploration that felt both familiar and thrilling. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you savored the taste of him. His lips moved against yours with a slow, tantalizing pressure, sending waves of heat through you.

As you pulled back slightly, breathless and flushed, Jace’s eyes sparkled with desire. His hands slipped from your hips to your thighs, fingers brushing softly along your skin, igniting sparks of sensation wherever he touched. The weight of his gaze made you feel exposed yet cherished, a blend of vulnerability and thrill that sent your heart racing.

With that assurance, Jace’s hands moved higher, his fingertips trailing up your thighs and resting just below your waist, where he hesitated for a breath, seeking your permission. The heat of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you nodded, urging him on silently.

He took that as his cue, his fingers exploring the softness of your skin, brushing lightly over your waist. The sensation was intoxicating, every caress igniting a flame within you. His fingertips reached the hem of your pants, slowly moving them out of the way so he could fit his hand inside and closer to you. You leaned back slightly, giving him more access, craving the connection between you as he traced delicate patterns across your body.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with awe as his fingers continued to explore, igniting every nerve ending with anticipation.

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks, his words settling deep in your heart. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you replied, your tone teasing yet earnest, making him chuckle softly.

You felt a shiver run through you as one of his fingers began to tease you, rubbing in delicate circles, igniting sensations that radiated through your body. A breathy sigh escaped your lips, and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. But then you opened your eyes, locking gazes with Jace, the intensity in his gaze both thrilling and grounding.

“Gorgeous,” he urged, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a yearning that mirrored your own. You watched as his fingers slipped inside you, and your breath hitched, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you adjusted to the feeling. Jace’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of awe and desire, as if every movement of his fingers was a connection between your souls.

His fingers worked you, moving with a rhythm that made your heart race, sending you spiraling into a sea of warmth and bliss. You could feel the tension building within you, every brush of his skin against yours intensifying the sensations, the world around you fading away. In that moment, nothing else mattered — just the two of you, entwined in this newfound intimacy.

You reached for him, your hands trembling slightly as you fumbled with his pajama pants, urgency and need coursing through you. As you finally freed him, he gasped, the sound raw and hungry, almost losing himself at the mere contact after days of pent-up frustration and unspent energy. You marveled at how he reacted to you, the way he leaned into your touch, his breath hitching as you wrapped your hand around him.

He breathed out your name, his voice strained with desire.

The way he looked at you, his eyes dark and filled with longing, made your heart race. You began to move your hand, your touch slow and teasing at first, feeling every muscle in his body tense beneath your fingers. You could sense the buildup of energy within him, the way his body responded to you, and it fueled your desire even more.

You moved your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining as the intensity of the moment heightened. Jace’s fingers continued their expert dance, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, each caress eliciting soft moans that escaped your lips unbidden. The rhythm he set was intoxicating, a melody of desire that pulled you deeper into the moment.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you grasped his wrist gently, guiding his hand away as you leaned up on your knees, positioning yourself fully above him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the tension hung in the air, electric and palpable. Jace’s eyes widened slightly as you moved, a mixture of surprise and hunger flashing across his features.

You could see the way he swallowed hard, his body taut with anticipation. With a gentle, deliberate motion, he slipped inside you, and you both gasped at the sensation, a rush of heat flooding through you as you adjusted to him.

You took a moment to savor the fullness, the way your bodies fit together, the connection transcending everything else. Jace’s hands found your waist, anchoring you as you began to move, slowly at first, savoring the intensity of the moment. His breath quickened, matching the rhythm of your movements, and you could feel him respond to every shift and thrust.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, urging you on. The way he spoke, filled with awe, sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you.

He leaned down, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck, leaving a path of warmth that made you shiver with delight. Each kiss was open-mouthed and warm, a gentle reminder of his presence, his desire for you. You could feel his breath against your skin, each exhale igniting a new wave of sensations that danced across your body.

“Mmh,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and thick with longing. “You’re taking such good care of me.” The way he said it sent a rush of heat through you, your heart swelling at his words.

His hands roamed your waist, fingers brushing against your skin, grounding you as you reveled in the connection. It was exhilarating to feel him respond to your every movement, the way his body welcomed you, made you feel cherished and desired. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he watched you, completely captivated by the sight of you above him, the two of you entwined in a rhythm that felt both intimate and liberating.

You leaned back slightly, arching into him, seeking deeper connection as you began to move with more confidence. The sensation of him filling you, combined with his words, sent another wave of heat flooding through you, stirring a deep longing that intensified with each thrust. You felt powerful in this moment, completely in control, and the thought of giving him pleasure while savoring your own only fueled the fire within you.

With each thrust, each kiss, you felt the world outside fade into nothingness, leaving just the two of you — lost in each other, exploring the depths of your desires. Jace’s hands tightened on your waist, urging you to find that sweet spot, and you did, the sensation making you gasp, a blissful sound that hung in the air between you.

you could feel the familiar knot of pleasure tightening in your core, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The rhythmic pulse of your bodies became a beautiful dance, each movement pushing you closer to ecstasy. You moved faster, chasing the wave of pleasure that loomed just ahead, your body responding to the deepening connection you shared.

Jace’s gaze never wavered, locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You’re so close,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I can feel it.”

His words sent you spiraling, a rush of heat flooding your senses. You cried out, a mix of pleasure and relief, as you finally tipped over the edge, waves of bliss crashing over you. Jace held you close, his fingers digging into your skin as he followed you over the precipice, his own pleasure mingling with yours in a beautiful harmony.

“God,” he groaned, his voice thick with emotion, as he reached his peak, filling you in the most intimate way. The sound of his pleasure echoed in the air, amplifying the electric connection that pulsed between you. You were both breathless, hearts racing, bodies entwined in the aftermath of your shared release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, you sank into him, your bodies still pressed close, the warmth of his skin against yours a comforting reminder of the moment you just shared. You could hear the soft thrum of his heartbeat, steadying as he caught his breath.

#luna’s autumn writing #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd #house of the dragon #harry collett #jace velaryon #jace targaryen

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miheartsedthings · 10 months ago

Text

Song: Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Billy x Shy (slightly) Nyctohobic Reader SFW (Minors DNI)

Summary: You and Billy only met a week ago (the day you started community service) and you never talk to him, that is until the night you're cleaning the community center and the power goes out.

My submission to @corroded-hellfire Valentine's event! ;)

Words: 3,365

“It's your own fault, but 500 hours for parking tickets is fucking bullshit.”

Carmen takes a generous pull from her cigarette, a bright red cherry glowing in the dark. She draws the smoke in deep and lets it billow from her nostrils like some great dragon. As if it were purer than the air around you. The baseball field is dark, an orange lamp post on the little street beyond the fences. You sit on the ice-cold bleachers, chill biting right through your thin sweatpants and pullovers, numbing you to the bone.

“I can't believe you're going.”

You say to the dark. You reach for the bottle of crown between your sneakered feet and take another swig.

“Yeah well, no one told you to get community service right after graduation. Otherwise, you could start with the rest of us.”

“Who knew Hawkins took parking so seriously.”

She chuckled, her face obscured by smoke and darkness. She chuckled and didn't even cough.

“Talk to Hargrove yet?”

You took another long drink and cringed a little.

“Nope.”

She chuckled again, but louder, blossoming into a full-hearted laugh.

“Seriously? You lost that bet fair and square. If you don’t tell him, it’s friendship treason.”

“I swear, I’ll tell him.”

“How?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

She shook her head, then put out her spent cigarette and grabbed your hand. You walked that way; hands clasped, joints stiff with cold, the way you had every night since graduation a few months back. Be it from parties or hours on the bleachers talking about any and everything. Carmen had been your best friend since moving there from Chicago mid-semester. In the morning, she'd be going off to college and you already missed her so much it made your throat ache.

You stopped on her darkened lawn and she turned to you.

“Do me a favor,” she said, fishing her crumpled pack of lucky strikes from her front pocket and slapping them into your hand. “Keep my last lucky.”

You look at the white and red pack, it's plastic crinkled, the integrity of the carton broken down into a soft, malleable thing.

“For luck?” The question isn't a question and you smile when you look at her, pocketing the pack. A slow grin spreads across her face.

“Hell yeah. Good fuckin luck.”

. . .

The clouds are dark and low, threatening rain at any minute.

“It’s child endangerment having us out here in a storm.” Ricky, one of the other ‘volunteers’ sneers this at the probation officer, interrupting his speech about your assignment.

The officer cuts his eyes at him.

“A, you’re working inside the community center. B, you’re 23. All of you are old enough to know better.”

You're messing with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your orange jumper. The sky does look sinister, and you’re here much closer to sunset than normal. The community center wouldn’t reschedule their afterschool program, leaving the group to wait until dinnertime.

“You’ll work in teams of two. Two on the second floor, two on the main, two in the basement.”

The girl beside you raises her hand, her pink manicure glittering in the sun.

“My doctor says I can’t be in dark, dusty places. I have a note.”

The officer regards her with annoyance.

“Jess and Thomas, take main,” he says, “David and Ricky you two have the attic, and.”

It’s then that he looks around, realizing you're the last person there. He rolls his eyes. “Anybody seen Hargrove today?”

Of the fourteen days of service, Billy has only shown up about 8, and only half of those was he on time. When you’d first moved to Hawkins, Billy stood out immediately. The California transplant who took over the school. It’s a shame he insisted on acting like a dickhead because he was a serious hottie, and there was a lack of eye candy around here. In any case, your paths never crossed. However, that didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar and developing a strong, embarrassing crush. Then, there’s the thing only Carmen knows about. The it you're required to confess to him. Somehow.

The probation officer goes inside to make a phone call and the rest of you relax. You and Jess hop up to sit on the railing along the wheelchair slope.

“You think he’s coming today?” You ask her. She’s adjusting her jumpsuit, trying to make it look more flattering somehow.

“If he does can we switch partners? All Tommy talks about is friggin Dukes a Hazard.”

You laugh.

“Be my guest, his energy is a bit much for me, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah.” her eyes twinkle mischievously “It’s a lot, right? But in a good way. Like a mouth full of hot pizza.”

“You like that feeling?”

“You don’t? It’s nice to be a little overwhelmed sometimes.”

Just as she’s saying this, you get a whiff of smoke, and then she yelps, scrambling away from the rail and grabbing her buttcheek. Billy stands on the other side, grinning, a mostly-gone cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“What?” he asks “Too much?”

His jumpsuit is hanging down, bunched around his waist. His white tee shirt is taut across his chest. Jess giggles and goes back to lean against the bar, she and Billy getting close.

“You like sneaking up behind girls and pinching their asses?”

“Only the cute ones.”

“Mr. Hargrove,” The probation officer is making his way over and you hop down from the railing “Nice of you to join us. You’re in the basement.”

“Um, actually, mister," Jess says "Y/N said she doesn’t mind switching partners.”

“Well, actually, I mind. Hargrove and L/N, in the basement.”

. . .

Billy is whistling while he lazily pushes a skinny vacuum across the short blue carpet. It had started raining the moment we got inside and it raged against the little storm windows near the ceiling. The basement is a small space with a chunky green couch in front of an old TV. Shelves of board games line one wall while on the other is a shelf of movies and an old stereo. You're dusting off the shelf and then move to the stereo, its buttons are all dirty and gross.

“God, this thing is old.” You say, not expecting Billy to hear you, but he does. He switches off the vacuum and comes over, leaning down over your shoulder to look at it. He's close enough to feel his body heat. You smell his cologne and the familiar cigarette smoke.

He glances at you, and even though you look away quick you know he caught you staring.

“Let's see what we got.”

He flicks on the stereo and navigates to a station blaring metal.

“Fuck yes,”

He cranks the music up and starts bopping his head and swirling his hips. You can't help but laugh, and when he sees you looking pleased he smirks and hams it up even more.

“This is not a party!” The parole officer yells down the steps as he comes down. He rounds the corner but Billy doesn't bother to stop dancing, in fact he turns and aims his rolling hips at the officer.

“What's wrong with a little party?” He asks.

You turn the radio off and Billy looks at you like he's surprised you're obeying. You look away.

“Thank you, Ms. L/N. Now, I'm gonna step away for a little while, I'm needed at the courthouse. Can I trust you two to stay down here until the job is done?”

“When exactly is that?” You ask. “I mean, are we supposed to be dusting everything? Cuz that's gonna take all night.”

He sighs.

“Look, just straighten up, clean the windows, make it look nice.”

“Do we have glass cleaner?”

“Are you gonna sass me all night?”

The officer’s tone clips, suddenly, stinging. It makes you look down.

“We got it covered, why don't you run along?” Billy says, already turning his back on the officer, who stares angrily after him for a moment before leaving.

You get back to dusting, embarrassed into silence. Billy wasn't even pretending to work anymore. He rifled through the board games and then sauntered over to the movies and did the same.

“What’d you do, anyway?” He asked, coming up beside you. You looked up at him, and he smirked down at you like he expected something bad.

“Parking tickets.”

His face fell.

“Fuckin tickets? Damn, and here I thought you were interesting.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You moved over to the TV and started brushing it off with a paper towel. “What'd you do? Fight somebody?”

“Is that what I look like, to you?” He teased, following you, “You think I'm some jerk who goes around lookin for fights?” He circled in front of you, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling.

“Ya know,” He leaned against the TV, looking up at you with those ocean-blue eyes. “I remember you.”

You stare at him in disbelief for a moment, flustered by his undivided attention.

“Yeah?” You got back to dusting, nervous about the way your blood was rushing. “Well, I was around, and you were around,” you rambled. He closed the distance between you again and snatched the paper towel from your hand. Balling it up, he tossed it around his back and caught it over his shoulder like it was a tiny basketball.

“You gave a speech at that assembly.”

“You remember that?”

You try to hide how pleased you are.

“What, among all the other thrilling shit going on at Hawkins High?”

“I thought you were more of a ‘parties and babes’ kinda guy.”

“Yeah, well. That shit gets boring, too.”

He takes a step closer, trailing his gaze up to your eyes and lingering there with intention. He can tell that his presence makes you nervous, and in the quiet moment that settles, he smirks a little. Thunder claps, making you yelp and jolt, you’re so close to Billy that you can’t help bumping into his chest. He catches you, his hands on your arms.

“Whoa,” he says with a chuckle “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little storm?”

You push away from his touch.

“Of course not.”

You went to the little bucket of cleaning supplies near the vacuum to look for glass cleaner you already knew wasn’t there. It was dark out, and you were trying not to make it obvious that you were worried about getting home. The bucket offers paper towels, wet wipes, and a couple of sponges. What exactly are you expected to do with this?

“I thought you’d be back in Chicago by now.”

Billy was settling onto the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. Wind howled against the building and you looked to the storm window just in time to see a flash of lightning. Good, this time when the thunder comes you won’t jump like an idiot.

“Yeah, me too. But we’re residents now, and there’s no way my parents can afford out-of-state tuition.” You sigh and look back to the bucket, eager for something to keep you busy. “Not like I miss it, anyway.”

“Not a big city girl?”

“The weather sucked half the year, and people were weird. Maybe it was just my school but it seemed like everyone wanted to take advantage whenever they could. Just trying to use you and get to the next best thing.”

“Sounds like LA. Buncha wannabes.”

“I thought you came from the OC?”

A slow smile drew across his lips.

“Torrence,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “What else do you think you know about me?”

Your secret flashed through your mind.

“I’m sure you know what kind of reputation you have.”

“Fuck,” He grumbled, half a broken cigarette between his fingers.

“Your last?”

“Wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t my fuckin last.”

Your hand went to your pocket. Thank you, Carmen.

“Here.” You went to him and offered the pack. He looked up at you, the split cigarette hanging from his perfect lips. He smirked and accepted the cigarette.

“Look at you, bein unpredictable.”

You gave up on cleaning and sat next to him. Just as he was lighting the cigarette, the room went dark. You jolted, letting loose a little yelp. Upstairs, Jess shrieks. The room is so dark for a moment you can’t see anything, then Billy flicks his lighter and you can see a little of his face.

“Knew it. You’re scared.”

“We should check on Jess.”

You stood, but there was barely any light coming in from the two storm windows and you could barely see in front of yourself. Billy’s hand came to your waist and you jolted again.

“It’s just me,” he said calmly, wrapping his arm around your waist, which you allowed. Let’s face it, you're creeped out and his body feels solid and warm. The two of you make your way to the stairs, only to reach the top and find the door locked.

“Jess?”

You knocked hard, hoping she could hear you.

“Y/n?” Her voice came to the door. You heard her try the handle. “I can’t open it!” she yelled, on the verge of panic.

“All the doors up here are locked,” Tommy added. “Dave and Rick are stuck in the attic, too.”

“Dammit! I can’t be under this pressure!” Jess cried.

“Do you have to yell?”

“Shut up Tommy!”

The two went on bickering on the other side of the door.

“Why don’t you two freaks break a window or somethin?” Billy yelled, shutting them up.

“We-we’ll give it a shot,” Tommy called back “Give us a sec.”

Their voices receded, Billy groaned and the cherry end of his cigarette glowed as he took a drag. you were close in the narrow stairway, his arm still around you, as if it belonged there.

“Since when d’you smoke?” He asked.

“I don’t. That’s courtesy of Carmen Bailey.”

“Ah, yeah. I remember her. Her mom’s at the pool every day in the summer.”

The thought makes your stomach fall.

“Did you ever…?”

Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s smirking.

“Just another rumor.”

You wonder what would happen if you told him right now. It could go well. If what the woman said so long ago had been true, then it had to go well. But what if she was lying? A shiver ran through you.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No. I’m fine.”

He pulled you closer, your shoulder against his chest. God, he’s so warm. A loud bang made you jolt again and Billy stroked his thumb against your side, filling the stairwell with lucky strike smoke. What a thing when cigarette smoke becomes comforting. Another loud bang. No shattering glass.

“It didn’t work!” Jess cried with desperation in her voice.

“Fuck,” Billy mumbled.

“What do we do?” Tommy asked.

“Just wait for the officer to come back.” You said.

“Have you seen what it looks like out there? He’s not coming back. Fucker just left us.” Jess might’ve been crying real tears.

“At least you’re not in the basement,” You added with a little laugh.

“As if I wouldn’t kill to trade places with you.” She said.

You and Billy went back down to the couch and settled in. Officially stuck. He kept his hand on you in some way, on your hip and then on your thigh when you sat down. You sat together in silence, and you watched the glow of his cigarette wind down to his lips until it was gone. You don’t know where he put it out. Then there was just the sound of the storm. The rain and an occasional flash of lightning. The thunder which made you tense for just a moment each time. Billy could feel that tension, you knew because every time he would message your thigh, reminding you he was there.

“I’m really glad you never hooked up with Carmen’s mom. She’s my best friend and it’d be really awkward.”

He laughed.

“Best friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Since day one. You weren’t here the first couple of days I started but it was weird. This town treats new people like aliens.”

“Think I don’t know? Weirdass cornfield fucks.”

You belly-laughed and he chuckled a bit, too.

“Well, to be fair they didn’t stand a chance against you. Nothing could’ve prepared them for hurricane Hargrove.”

“Hurricane Hargrove,” he said, testing the nickname “I like it. You came up with that?”

“It was here when I arrived. You’re the best thing about this place.”

You hadn’t meant for it to sound so intimate, but suddenly there was just the sound of the rain and something fluttered in your chest. Billy’s hand moved a little higher on your thigh, kneading the muscle.

“Anyway, Carmen’s great. That’s why I hate not starting classes with her. We’re supposed to share a dorm.” He doesn’t answer, his hand is still feeling your thigh and your face is getting hot. “Are you excited for school?”

“Did you hear the question you just asked?”

You laughed nervously.

“I just mean, aren’t you looking forward to getting out of Hawkins? Starting your life somewhere else? I mean, what do you wanna be?”

He sighed.

“Uh, fuck, I don’t know. I wanna…not be a prick.”

“Decent goal.”

He scoffed.

“Should be easy, right?” He was quiet for a moment, and in the quiet, your hand came down over his. Your eyes were adjusting and you could make out his outline. That curly hair. “I’m here ‘cause of my dad. We got in a fight…that asshole started it but the second I fought back he said ‘You’re a man now, you’re gonna face real consequences for your actions’...called the cops. Charged me with assault.”

You stroked your thumb over his knuckles.

“Sounds like a piece of shit.”

“Biggest I’ve ever met.” he said, “So, I don’t know where I’ll go, what I’ll do. I’m just not stayin here. And he’ll be lucky if he sees me on his deathbed.”

You're filled with the urge to lift his hand to your lips, to kiss the length of his arm, and find his mouth in the dark. Would you get that far? Would he stop you?

“There’s something I should tell you.”

The words popped out on their own, setting in motion this confession you couldn’t hold in.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice smooth and low, “Tell me.”

You took a breath.

“Promise not to laugh.”

“That bad?”

“Please. Promise.”

“I swear.”

He squeezed your hand with a reassuring firmness.

“My parents took me to Navy Pier when I turned eleven and I saw a psychic there. She told me,” A rush of nerves made you cringe “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“Just spill it.”

You groaned, dying of embarrassment.

“The psychic told me I’d meet my soulmate one day and until that day I’d suffer nightmares every single night. And she was right. I had nightmares that night and every night since then…until I found my soulmate…” quiet stretched out between you as you found the courage to finish, “Until I found you.”

The lights flicked back on, making you squint and cover your eyes from the sudden flare. Then you saw him. He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, recognizing someone.

“How d’you know it's me?”

After a moment’s silent embarrassment, you swallowed spit.

“You're in my dreams now. All the time.”

He looked down, and you're so nervous you wanted to chew off your lip. You stood, only to have Billy stand with you. He kissed you, and his tongue was smoke and spearmint. His lips were soft, and he took you around the waist, pulling you into a distant, smoky cologne while your arms were slung around his neck. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. He pulled back, though not far, and there was so much tenderness in his cool eyes.

“D’you think it’s stupid?” you asked.

“Y’know…all kinds of crazy shit happens around here. Someday I’ll tell you about it.”

#corroded-hellfire #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #billyhargrovesfw #fluff #cute #thunderstorm #billy #valentinesday #miheartsedthings #fanfic #story

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yatsurinamikaze · 1 year ago

Text

Ch 2. Nice to meet ya.

Summary > One > Two > Three

Aomine Daiki x Reader

‘'Ts a minor concussion”, you say while handing a water bottle to Aomine, “No need to worry.”, crouched on your hunches, you crease your lips and stand up.

While Kuroko helps Aomine up, you feel a confused chatter erupting between the men. Of course, that would be the case because no one knows who this new girl is who is talking in an American accent.

Alex puts her arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards her, “This is y/n everyone! She’s a close friend, so behave.” She goes to kiss on your lips when you put a finger on her lips, “You should get this habit checked out you know.”

Alex pouts removing her hand from your shoulders and you bow your head, “Nice to meet you everyone.” You speak in perfect Japanese, and the men smile and bow, returning the greetings with enthusiasm.

You look expectantly at Taiga, he puts his hand on your head and ruffles your hair, “I can’t believe you are actually here.”

You swat his hand away jokingly and give him a teddy bear hug, “Why won’t I? This is important to you.” Everyone’s eyes get bewildered in the shape of discs watching the caring side of Kagami.

Their fitness trainer Riko gives them the death stare, ‘’Back to practice everyone.” Her background turns dark and evil, and everyone just scurries away back to the court quickly.

“Except you Aomine.” Riko walks up to you, “Kagami told me you’re a doctor?” You nod your head and say, “He should be fine.” You turn towards him and smile reassuringly, “Just take it slow for a couple of days.” Riko nods and motions her head towards the bleachers to him.

Sitting at the bleachers, Aomine had been checking you out incessantly, takes in your appearance. You are not his usual type but you are beautiful in your own way. He likes the sound of your voice when you talked in Japanese, how your eyes crinkled when you smiled at him. He finds himself getting drawn to you and wants to know more about you. “Slow for a couple of days, huh?” He thinks to himself and rubs his neck smiling to himself.

After the practice gets over, he hears you talking to Kagami about how you will be here for the Olympics and would provide any medical support to the team while you are here. It bugs him how close you are to Kagami and wonders if you are his girl from America - which makes this pursuit even more interesting for him, he thinks devilishly to himself. “She seems nice.” Aomine jumps up in shock as Kuroko says this from nowhere. “SINCE HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HERE?!” Kuroko smiles, “I have been here ever since you sat here.” Aomine rolls his eyes, “yeah whatever.”

You settle in Kagami’s apartment and rest down on the couch after the shower, your muscles sore from the long flight. You see a Basketball Monthly kept on the table, picking it up you notice the cover. It’s that boy from the court who got hit by the ball. You look closely at his features, your eyes wandering off to his blue eyes reminding you of the deepest and darkest part of a mysterious ocean. You remember looking into his eyes on the court, and find yourself smiling at the recollection. You shake your head to break out from the reverie.

You read his name, “Aomine Daiki.”

Summary > One > Two > Three

Author’s Note:

- Not much. More of context setting.

- Titles are playlist songs fit for this storyboard. Will put up playlist soon.

- Interaction is my motivation juice. Taglist is open.

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awlumii · 2 years ago

Text

while sitting with kazuha during his break one afternoon, you're struck by a memory. it's an extremely fuzzy one completely unrelated to the task you're completing, but it flashes before your eyes anyway.

you're sitting on the bleachers in your school's gym chatting with some friends about the test you have next period. was it a history class that you had after this? one of your friends moans and groans about it, lamenting the fact that he didn't study at all because he was kept up all night by your other friends.

"him and his stupid food combinations," you remember him saying. it was thoma, if memory serves you correctly. you remember how dramatic he was about the whole ordeal. "i swear, i think ayato secretly hates me."

ayaka had blushed beside you. she could never say much in defense of her brother. even though he never acted strange while she was around, she would always believe others when they said he was a menace. "i'm sorry about him," she apologized. "how about we go to your favorite restaurant after school? i'll make it up to you!"

things get fuzzier from here. you know thoma was ecstatic, but you don't remember what he said. you also don't remember what else was said after that, if anything. but once the gap ends, your memory clears once more, and you remember hearing something loud collide with something else. the impact made you and your friends flinch — it might not have been two objects, but rather an object with a person. after looking around the gym a little, you found the source.

on the side of the gym near the wall, there was a boy on his knees clutching his face. you could see him trembling from where you sat and, when you squinted, you could see droplets of blood hitting the wooden floor with a silent plip.

on instinct, you jumped to your feet and hurried over to the injured student and crouched by his side. you don't remember what exactly you said, but you remember taking note of his state of being. you noticed a basketball rolling away from the two of you. so he'd been hit by that, huh? from the look of it, the ball hit him really hard. there was so much blood – so, so much of it. despite wanting to be a doctor in the future, you almost lost your stomach at the sight of it.

your memory gets even fuzzier. the boy's eyes were screwed shut, you think. "can you open your eyes?" you think you asked him. "and can you breathe?"

for someone bleeding so heavily, you distinctly remember being a little shocked by his tranquility. he didn't even seem like he was in severe pain. he wasn't groaning, nor was he whimpering. he just sat there and cradled under his face in an attempt to keep the blood from staining the floor any further. when asked again if he could open his eyes, he did.

and you remember seeing scarlet.

your memory stops short. why can't you remember past that? it's actually infuriating that you can't remember more; you know for a fact that something happened in high school that solidified your resolve to become a doctor, and you think that that might have been it. but for such a pivotal moment in your life, you can't seem to remember any of it. why..?

"are you alright?" kazuha's voice registers then, taking you out of your thoughts. you look up from your laptop to see him already looking at you. "you look bothered by something. do you have a headache?"

you smile unconsciously. everything he does makes you smile. his worry for you warms your heart, even if there's nothing seriously wrong. plus, the fact that he's worried about your head makes you wonder if he started memorizing some symptoms of certain ailments due to your choice of profession.

you shake your head at him. "no, that's not it." you're half-lying. you do feel a pulsing at your temples, but it's not really painful. "i'm just... trying to remember something is all."

"oh? is it for classes? perhaps i can help." kazuha adjusts himself in his seat and rests his hand atop yours on the table. you spread your fingers a little and tangle them with his, sending a tingle up your arm. "what is it that you're trying to remember?"

"no, it's nothing like that..." you sigh and look at your intertwined fingers. "it's like, i'm trying to remember something that happened in high school, but it just won't come to me."

kazuha's fingers twitch. "something happened in high school?"

"yeah. some kid got hit by a basketball really hard. i know i helped him, and i know that helping him made me want to keep helping people, but i can't remember anything else. like, i don't know what he said or even what i said... i don't even remember what he looked like." at that, you raise your eyes to meet kazuha's. scarlet eyes seem so distant despite looking straight at you. actually, now that you're looking, you think he's looking past you. his mind seems to be elsewhere.

and if you were in his head, you'd know that it is. if you were in kazuha's head, you'd immediately be crushed by the immense guilt that he's harbored for years. that incident in high school was one that changed his — and yours — life forever.

insignificant as that incident may have been, your lives were never the same. as you said, you resolved to be a doctor while he fell in love with you. god, thinking about it now, he was so embarrassing in high school, pining for the one person who showed him genuine kindness after he got hurt. by that logic, he should've fallen in love with another unsuspecting soul ages ago, and yet instead, he fell for you. you, who noticed his unwillingness to show any sign of weakness and treated him accordingly; you didn't coddle him, but instead gave him gentle instruction, showing generosity where it was needed and letting him breathe when he could. you treated him like he was worth something to you, even if you didn't know his name.

looking back, you didn't ask for his name until much later in your high school years. by that point though, he'd been sent to the nurse's office countless times and encountered you even more since you were the nurse's aide. each and every time, you smiled at him like he was a friend — you even called him that once, and he'll never forget it.

"oh, hey," you said with your back turned to him, "i never caught your name. even though i've had your blood on my hands more times than i can count." you chuckled at yourself and turned back to him, your lips curved into a smile. "what's your name?"

kazuha felt breathless at the sight of your smile. his mouth formed the words to respond, but no sound came out. his mind was racing at the thought of officially being a friend to you instead of the boy you treated for injuries twice a month. "kazuha." he finally managed. "kaedehara kazuha. i'm sorry i didn't say so earlier."

your smile brightened and his brain turned to mush. "it's nice to officially meet you, kazuha."

...the joy of that day didn't last long.

when he took to the streets in his prototype spider-suit that evening after finishing his homework, his attention had been drawn to an explosion at a restaurant. when he approached the scene, he was mortified to learn that it was the restaurant that you'd said you were heading to with your friends earlier in the day; you even invited him, but he declined so he could do his vigilante work.

kazuha remembers the panic, the alarm, the horror he felt when he arrived. there were bodies strewn about, both criminal and civilian alike. paramedics and police were already on the scene, helping people, but there were still gunshots ringing out nearby. whoever caused it was still at large and not going down without a fight.

"...put them down!" yelled an officer beside him.

kazuha attached himself to the wall high above the scene to get a better look at what was going on. the criminal had taken a hostage; a teenager from the looks of it. the barrel of the gun was pressed firmly against their temple, and the criminal hollered demands in an attempt to walk free.

"if you let me walk away, i just might let them go," he'd growled. "you wouldn't want to take their future from them, would you, officers?"

kazuha had half a mind to jump in right then and there, but when he got a glimpse of the hostage's face, his world slowed to a stop.

it was you. you were scratched up and bruised, likely from the explosion, and you were sobbing. you looked torn between begging for your life and fighting, oddly stiff in your captor's arms. you looked so helpless, so afraid, knowing that your life could be snuffed out if this criminal's finger so much as spasmed.

it's then that kazuha's memory goes fuzzy, too.

obviously since you were here, everything ended fine. the criminal went to jail and the cops didn't make any efforts to arrest him as they often tried to do in the beginning. but how he managed to get you out of there, he doesn't remember.

all he remembers is that by the time the villain went down, so did you.

maybe something hit you that wasn't supposed to. when he checked you for any additional injuries, he felt a large bump and gash on your head. in fact, when he pats your head as spider-man, from time to time, he can feel the scar that was left in its place. you seem fine now, but... listening to you now, hearing that there's parts of your memory that just won't clear up... it's his fault—

"kazuha?"

this time, it's your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts. kazuha blinks twice and refocuses on you. he remembers what you said. how you don't remember what that kid from high school looked like — what he looked like. "was he important to you?" he asks tentatively. "that boy."

you purse your lips in thought. "i don't think so." you answer honestly. "that was the only time i saw him, i think." your fingers drift to the back of your head — the same spot where the scar is.

it sounds like you just don't remember him altogether. that would explain why you never bring up your time spent in the nurse together. but kazuha doesn't blame you. he can't. he only blames himself for not being fast enough — for being an amateur when you needed him the most. all he can do now is vow to never allow a situation like that to happen again. he can't lose you again — rather, he can't let you lose him again.

not again.

#[ ✍️🏽 — scribbles! ]#kazuha x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #good morning????

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planetnini · 2 years ago

Text

when we were young, peter parker

࿔･ﾟ*࿐ A HIGH-SCHOOL REUNION DIDN’T SOUND TOO BAD. On the surface, there would be free food and drinks but on the other hand he’d have to deal with the handful of comments about university, photographing Spider-Man for The Daily Bugle and an abundant amount of the apologies regarding Gwen’s death. He certainly wasn’t expecting to actually reunite with Y/N who he hasn’t spoken to in almost a decade...

pairing! andrew-garfield!peter x fem!reader

warnings! angst, fluff, swearing and my terrible writing <3

word count! 2.8k

author’s note! its been too long since i have written so i used a sample response i did for school and then reframed it into this little thing. sorry rooster fans, i always say i promise i will update but i actually will soon :( i apologise. have fun with this half angsty half fluffy piece. very adamant on part two bc i don’t know if anyone will like this </3 NONETHELESS, ENJOY!

The sun bathed his eyes in chestnut, augmenting the colour of chocolate with milk and the fresh earth. Peter let out a breath, a relieving kind that sourced from the bottom of his chest as he closed his eyes.

Shaky inhales and exhales escaped his mouth in succession before goosebumps travelled up the back of his spine and up his arms. It is silent– absolutely quiet– save for the commotion downstairs. An upside to being bitten by a radioactive spider was that all his senses were heightened so whilst the party was happening a couple stories below in the school hall, he could hear the thumping of the music and muffled laughter which would ground him to the present rather than blank out on an empty rooftop for hours. Peter stood on the roof observing the sun which was beginning to set as the yellow hue dissipated, resulting in a coral orange tint to take over the skies above.

Peter wasn’t too sure why he decided to dress up this morning or why he had this sudden urge to go to the reunion because, frankly, the students didn’t know he was and if they did they didn’t care— the only reason they would speak to him would probably to only ask about his job at The Daily Bugle. Photographing Spider-Man was a pretty big deal for a nobody like Peter.

It was pretty much useless when he had gotten the invitation to go to this event only a decade after he graduated. Peter tried to put the past behind him as he focused on his biophysics graduate degree and now his biochemistry doctorate which he was only halfway through. It had been difficult balancing his secret identity, working as a freelance photographer for The Bugle and also being a university student and if there’s one thing that everyone knew about Peter, it was that he took on more than he could manage so it was only fair for him to take a break every now and then. He didn’t need to prove anything to them by being here and he definitely had nothing to brag about (which was a bunch of bullshit) so he opted to watch the sunrise on the rooftop.

No one would ever admit that it is a good thing to be back at school but Peter couldn’t help but reminisce and miss what it used to be. He had done a lot of that the past decade when he wasn’t busy. He missed when Uncle Ben would drive him to school when he wasn’t bothered skating; he missed sitting in the bleachers with Gwen— he missed her so much… He also missed Y/N and how she was able put up with him for almost two decades.

The soughing of the wind in the canopy of branches, faint sound of music and laughter drew Peter from his hypnosis, making him aware of his surroundings as his left hand brushed against the roots of his hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face. The beer in his right hand was only half finished before he decided to ditch the reunion that was happening.

Peter felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the door behind him closed. He heard a familiar voice as someone walked up the stairs using his super hearing so he definitely let down his guard a little upon her arrival.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realise someone else would be up here.” her voice echoed the expanse as he kept his head turned to the sun. There was sincerity evident in Y/N’s voice which made the corners of his lip turn upward, an eye to eye smile that did not matter at alleviating the strange beat of his heart. He fought every bone in his being to spare his old friend a glance instead looking down at the ledge, his fingers traced the beer bottle, “Are you okay?” she questioned.

Peter sighed… Out of all the people he could have possibly met from the hundreds of students at the reunion he was sure that none of them led back to the girl from his past — the world definitely had it out for him by sending Y/N to him. He pursed his lips together as he finally made eye contact with the girl.

The fact is, he had her memorised like the back of his palm even after many years so it was no surprise to see she had grown, “How are you?” he managed to get out as she stood where she was, unsure of whether to stay or leave.

“Peter Parker…” she spoke, her saccharine voice making the hairs on his skin stand up.

It was like as if they were both magnets- Y/N being his true north as he looked her in the eye. Torment lined the edge of her eyes as she refused to give in to her tears, though the agony was violently clinging onto her throat, trying to escape.

Eyes stinging with tears, Y/N shook her head, crossing her arms around her body, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I thought I would never see you ever again,” he prompted once again trying to get her to talk to him but she couldn’t, “How long has it been?”

Y/N approached Peter and put a hand up, slapping him across the face. She got in a decent slap but knew that it probably didn’t do much to leave any marks. Peter chuckled as he shook his head turning back to her figure, “I was beginning to get worried you had gotten yourself killed.” she commented with her arms crossed, a scowl evident in the way her brows furrowed.

It was Peter’s time to scoff trying to dispel the feeling in his stomach, “You could at least fake some sincerity. I know how much you hate me,” he stated and she was about to rebut until she remembered that she had just slapped him right across the face

“It’d be hard not to, especially after what you did.” she mentioned. His jaw clenched as he turned away from the girl and back the ledge with his beer.

“Is that how you welcome your friends, eh?”

“You have some nerve to call me a friend.”

“I’m sorry” he spoke- it was truly all he could muster now that he stared at her. Peter glanced up and all he could see was the same girl when they were kids. He could see the way her eyes spoke more than her words. Peter recalled all the times she would curiously ask about science, skating, photographing and all the things he was interested in and right now she was begging to know what happened.

“Is that all you have to say?” she questioned as he turned to run a hand over his face as he breathed in and out.

He shook his head and pushed away from the ledge pacing around in his own space, shaking his head, “No…” he finally let out after thinking, “I’m sorry. I know I can’t make it up to you now and an apology isn’t going to fix anything but I genuinely am sorry. You can punch me if you want, not like you haven’t already slapped me.”

“Now I can finally say I’ve beat up Spider-Man.” she joked as a chuckle sounded from her mouth. Peter caught a glimpse of her eye to eye smile as he repeated this gesture.

“Well if we’re being real, you didn’t beat up anyone.”

“From your tone, it seems like that it will happen soon Pete,” she admitted, the nickname slipping from her lips which had been a force of habit. She pursed her lips sighing before giving him a curt nod, “I… Uh, sorry for calling you that.”

Before the two drifted, and before the whole Spider-Man persona, she had known him as Pete and he had known her as Y/N/N so of course being around him again after many years would warrant some slip ups because, damn she really had missed Peter so much – too much in fact.

He shook his head in response trying to hold back a smile, “I haven’t heard that in a while…” he uttered and let out a sigh of exasperation, taking a swig of his beer.

Y/N watched with sympathy at the boy she grew up with and she knew that it wasn’t a good sight to see. Peter was never one for drinking, sure he was reckless but he knew his limits, of course, with great power comes great responsibility but the area below Peter’s eye hung low with grief and a different kind of look that she had ever seen.

She knew of Peter’s history with Gwen and that when she died, a piece of him died with her. As sad as it was to see her friend go, it was even worse to see how much it affected the people around her. Peter was no longer the same stubborn nerd who also secretly saved the city– he became hungry for vengeance and so blinded by rage that he completely lost himself and Y/N in the process. She didn’t know how much times had changed and didn’t like to dwell too much on him when she was off doing her own shit but every now and then when she’d hear a siren, watch the news or whatnot, she would always be reminded of the boy next door. The boy next door who wasn’t just Spider-Man but was Peter Parker underneath it all.

“I owe you so much more than this, Y/N. More than just being here with a lame fucking apology.” he sounded drunk out of wits end but he definitely wasn’t. This had definitely kept him up at night if Y/N still remembered Peter as well as she thought she did. All their arguments could be resolved fairly easily when they were growing up but one where the other individual moved across town, states, countries even, was hard to resolve.

“No, you don’t Pete.” she sighed, knowing that he didn’t need to apologise. The two of them had their own respective reason to be mad at each other but it did not make the other individual’s point any less valid. Peter and Y/N were both grieving teens who were fuelled by their own coping mechanisms, causing them to push the other away. They both said fucked up things that they regret, Peter more than Y/N, but it didn’t make it his fault– she didn’t think she could ever blame him especially knowing that he had the extra added weight of Gwen’s death forever embedded within him forever. Any change, significant or minor, can create a sense of loss and Peter became the epitome of such.

There is a beat of silence that follows her reassuring words.

“Do you remember before we graduated you webbed up something if we ever came back in 10 years time?” she remembered as she finally took her place next to him by the ledge.

He turned to look at her before chuckling, letting his beer sit on the flat surface as the ledge, reaching under it as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes, Marlboro to be exact, “A pack of these bad boys.” Peter spoke observing the packet as he opened the box.

“You know for a smart nerd and a slightly above average student, preserving a cigarette for 10 years in the future was such a mistake,” she said, “I mean their shelf life must be like 3 months or something.”

He opened the packet and to his dismay, the smell was as bad as he recalled. Smoking just wasn’t the Peter Parker way and it certainly wasn’t a Y/N Y/L/N thing too. “I found it on one of my first missions around and I didn’t want to smoke them, you did! So I blame you actually.” he admitted.

Y/N feigned an offended look, laughing as she clicked her tongue, “I’ve been through almost 28 years of my life without smoking, I definitely don’t plan to start soon.” she retaliated as they laughed at each other.

“Twenty-eight huh?” he whistled as if that was such an old age, “It’s been a very long time.”

“Hey, don’t dwell yeah? It freaks me out when you do it,” she stammered as he nodded looking away from her, handing her the beer, “Thank you.”

“You never answered me,” he stated as she gulped down a bit of his beer, “How are you? It was a genuine question.”

“I would like to say good, but I think it’s just average,” she began and handed him back his beer, now they were standing a couple inches closer than before, “How about you? Last I heard, you were living the dream and all that.” she snickered as he tried his best to not snort at her comment.

“Oh yeah, there is definitely something so dreamy about JJ Jameson,” he exclaimed, drawing out his answer as he made Y/N laugh once more.

Y/N rolled her eyes shoving him with as much force as she could, “You know what I mean… About university and your studies– I hear you’re top of the class,” she raised her brows with a slight smile, “Not that I ever doubted that.” she added.

“Oh, no, yeah. I am at the top of classes and all, it’s good,” he replied as a response to her question, “I feel like I have no life.”

“Are there other Peter Parker’s out there? I think they brought back a different one,” she joked, still quite unsure at his words, “Sorry, did you wanna talk about it?”

Peter has never been an excellent liar, despite it partly being his job, but something about looking into Y/N’s eyes had triggered some part of his brain that couldn’t lie to Y/N - in all fairness, she’d known him since they were children, “Definitely not another Peter. Just…” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m just tired is all.” he mumbled the last bit but Y/N heard it clear as day.

Her lips pursed before she reached to pat his shoulder, “Pete.”

Y/N was belligerent– emotions swinging from pity to anger to sympathy like a pendulum.

“Hey, look at me,” she commanded as Peter turned to look at her, staring into her eyes, “I’m here right now okay? I won’t go anywhere and you might not want to hear this but you will get through this. You’re Spider-Man right? But underneath it all, you’re… you. Underneath that mask, there’s a human being.”

Peter felt himself flinch at her words. It felt like a blade had slashed through her chest, leaving his bleeding heart exposed and vulnerable. He tried her absolute best to keep his face unchanged- the apathetic facade he had constructed was the only thing concealing his pain from the world, and he intended to keep it up no matter how difficult it had become. He wishes he could smile but there was this anchor weighing down in his chest so instead he opted to just staring into her eyes because it was the only source of comfort for him right now.

“You can’t save other people if you can’t save yourself first Pete,” she surmised, “Sometimes it’s hard to turn the page when you know someone won’t be in the next chapter, but the story must go on.”

There’s a tense silence that hangs in the air like a thick layer of humidity. It clings to him violently, ripping at his skin in an attempt to elicit any possible emotion it can.

Her digits reached for his hands as she held them as a means to comfort him, it always used to calm him down when they were kids. Y/N remembered his mother would always kiss his hands when she had to leave for important business trips so she made it her own way of letting him know that he was okay, “It’s time to let go.” she reassured him with a faint smile.

Peter sighed as a tear fell from his left eye, he nodded as she tried her best to smile but failed to do so, now her eyes filled with tears also. He decided to make the first move as he brought his arms around her shoulders, bringing her in for a hug. The sigh that they both let out as they just hugged each other was cathartic and definitely needed in both cases.

Suddenly it all clicked in Peter’s mind…

Y/N was not just there to be moral support or someone to patch Peter up after a bad fight - she is and will forever be his partner. She is the one person who he felt comfortable talking to about being Spidey, a lifeline Peter never knew he needed, until her.

In many ways, it made him a better hero. Y/N does not have spider-powers, but she has the resolve and belief in Peter that he doesn't have for himself sometimes. She is responsible for reminding Peter that he can't be the Spider without first being the Man.

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emmyrosee · 3 years ago

Text

bff!samu and bff!tsumu love just sheerly fucking around with you.

like there’s just no other way to put it; the twins thrive on chaos, and whether that means to make you laugh or to force you into their stunts as well, it makes nothing less exciting to them.

FOR EXAMPLE, the time Atsumu was convinced by Osamu to snort an instant noodle spice packet because it would “taste good,” and despite your warnings to absolutely not do that, Tsumu still ended up with a tampon shoved up his nose to stop the nosebleed he suddenly got.

“Sweetheart, we really should get you to a hospital-“

“NO.” ~ a very scared-of-the-doctors Tsumu

OR that time Atsumu promised Osamu you were watching in awe as he tried (key word TRIED) to do a backflip off of the bleachers and when he nearly broke his gd neck, he’s beyond betrayed to find you were watching something Rin forced you to watch instead

Thankfully, he only had minor injuries but you promised him that you’d take care of his bruised ribs if he promised to NEVER DO THAT AGAIN-

that’s a fairly common ask in your friendship

But don’t get it twisted- these two just like to torture each other more than they like to torture you, but BECAUSE YOURE left with the aftermath, you would sincerely argue that statement.

Technically, you were friends with Tsumu first, because you were paired with each other for a project, but he actually didn’t know that until one day his mom was like “where’s your little friend, Tsumu?” And he’s like “waIT I HAVE A FRIEND?? WHO-“

You and Samu never let him live down the fact that you were friends with him for at least a year and a half before he even k n e w.

They often argue about who your favorite twin is, but they don’t actually KNOW who your fave twin is because every time they ask you, you give a different answer

And they don’t know if you’re answering one way to make the one asking happy, or if you’re being honest, or if you’re setting them up, or-

“You’re both equally insufferable,” you hum innocently. To which, Atsumu clutches his chest in mock offense and Osamu scoffs, “oh yeah? Well, I like osamu better than you, anyways!”

“No you don’t.”

“Hmpf! Says you!” The blonde turns to his twin, “‘Samu, you like me more than them, right???”

“….”

“…Sam-“

“Hey when did we get this vase-“

It makes you laugh just how different the boys are; Atsumu has a scar in the bottom of his foot from the time Osamu dared him to jump in a pile of LEGOs and one got stuck, ACTUALLY STUCK in the arch of his foot.

All because Samu told him he’d give him money.

“Tsumu, if I gave ya ¥500-“

“Probably.”

On a cuter note, Samu is more…. YOU based. He doesn’t do stupid things unless you’re brought into the mix, and it’s totally not because he has a crush on you or anything, he just wants to prove he’s just as cool as Tsumu.

Like it’s actually funny how, you could be sitting feet away, and Tsumu is just asking scenarios about how far Osamu would go for you.

“If they jumped off of a bridge would you-“

“Yes.”

“Even if there’s no water to catch you?”

And it’s only then that you turn your head to let them know that 1.) you’re not only still there but 2.) you heard what they were saying and gently remind them both that ‘all bridGES ARE OVER WATER BECAUSE IF THEY WEREN’T THEN THERE WOULD BE NO NEED FOR A BRIDGE-‘

Tsumu just teases you about “how much you know about bridges”

Then Samu teases you when he googles and finds out that your “fact” wasn’t exactly true and now it’s his turn to watch you blush

And once, on the beach, while you were simply trying to tan, Tsumu dared his poor little brother to try and catch a jellyfish because of a silly little fact he had learned on the discovery channel or FRIENDS, he doesn’t really say

“No bro, literally, if they sting you? They have to pee on you, that’s how they fix the sting.”

Once Samu heard that he was ready, already dashing towards the water.

“Please, don’t go looking for a jellyfish.”

“Why”

“Because it wILL STING YOU??”

“Iwastoldyoudpeeonme.”

“What?”

“What.”

One time, a guy was flirting with you at a match, and at the time, the boys decided to give you some space (jk they were hiding just along the wall like hell they’re going to leave you with some strange flirtatious man cOME ON NOW-)

But then the guy started to get a liiiiiiittle too touchy close-y, not letting you leave the conversation.

And Samu who totally does not have a crush on you and Tsumu who openly would absolutely jump in front of a train if you asked him to, literally just picked you up and carried you out of the situation.

No like fr. Like Samu wrapped his arm around your waist and hoisted you up like a sack of potatoes, while Tsumu just shrugged at the guy like this was a normal thing (which. In YOUR dynamic it was ig)

“Boys, that was rude.”

“He said you weren’t done talking when you tried to walk away,” Tsumu LITERALLY growls.

“I could’ve handled it.”

“And I coulda kicked him in the nuts and saved whoever he tries to fuck from his little demon spawns. Be grateful.”

The BOYS HAVE NO SHORTAGE OF NICKNAMES FOR YOU ITS ACTUALLY A LITTLE CONCERNING

To you, they’re just. ‘Tsumu and ‘Samu, with the occasional “sweetie, honey, babes, snickerdoodle” and other disgustingly domestic cuteness (or the occasional “brat” but they don’t tell YOU how much they like it when you call them that).

But for yOU-

“My stinky friend.” “You shaky leg poop.” “My mint flavored trash bag.” “My crusty gummy bear.” “My favorite booger.” “The c**shot I’m glad your mom didn’t swallow-“

Followed by a swift smack to the head, naturally

“My gilded doorknob.” “My good hair day.” need I go on??

Even if ‘Tsumu and ‘Samu literally grew up together, they’ll STILL text you first when they need your help with something

Whether that’s reading the directions to put up a shelf, or learning how to tell when their eggs are perfectly over easy.

They’d honestly fall apart without you. You’re like. The expensive glue that FINALLY is strong enough to hold them together

Not that you’d have it any other way, of course 💕

#god I love these idiots #atsumu miya #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x reader fluff #atsumu miya haikyuu #osamu miya #osamu miya fluff #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader fluff #osamu miya imagine #osamu miya haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #the miya twins

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes: Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged)

@mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy.

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card.

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression.

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way.

You grumble as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets.

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers.

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group.

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh.

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit.

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed.

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe.

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today." He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have." You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments.

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside.

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee.

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today.

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman. "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear.

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile.

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you.

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is."

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor.

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down."

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked.

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom.

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda imagines #sorry for your lost #wandaxyou

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thebatmqn · 3 years ago

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fuck it, tfatws high school au headcanons

- sam, bucky, sharon, and zemo get paired together for an art project or some shit and it’s the least productive arrangement ever. they try to take it seriously but they all have history together and issues with each other that were never really resolved

- sharon is always saying passive aggressive things to them bc she thinks it’s funny

- bucky would be like “okay sharon ill finish up the report and text you when im done” and sharon says something like “oh really? is that so? i don’t remember being able to rely on you when steve broke up with me and you and sam never talked to me again. WILL you text me when you’re done with the report? hmm?” while sam and bucky sit there with matching guilty expressions on their faces

- i know for a FACT that john walker is the person who gets too invested during PE and treats it like it’s the fucking Olympics. he yells shit like “PASS THE BALL‼️ PASS IT‼️ DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO PLAY?!?” whenever a non-athletic kid has the ball

- karli and her friends would be super involved in clubs and stuff that serves to improve their school and community, organizing school cleanups and stuff like that. basically the nicest and most helpful group of people ever. but they can get really scary if someone wrongs them

- zemo is the mf that always has the answer keys to tests and homework worksheets somehow but sam, bucky, and sharon are the only ones he shares them with (sam refuses to use them because he believes he will never properly learn a subject unless he makes mistakes and learns from them, but he appreciates the sentiment)

- Lemar and john are inseparable best friends. whenever one of them is absent, the other goes all day not speaking a word to anyone else

- Bucky is always finishing homework at the last possible second, the teacher will literally be collecting it and he’s scribbling in bullshit answers in a hurry

- SAM IS CLASS PRESIDENT and he takes his job very seriously. Joaquin is his VP. (even though bucky could not care less about class activities, he shows up every time to all the events sam organizes anyways to support him. sharon and zemo get dragged along). one year karli runs against him to take the spot and it’s the most drama the school has had in years

- Sharon and Sam are obnoxiously athletic and are therefore always competing in gym class for the top grade. whenever they get put into the same team it’s OVER for everyone else

- Bucky does great in gym class as well but he doesnt take it as seriously as sam and sharon do. he does what he needs to do and is always rolling his eyes at them during class

- zemo has the potential to be top of the class along with them but he DOES NOT have the time or energy to care about this exercise shit. he walks the mile every week and is always forging doctors notes saying he’s injured and can’t participate. he actively avoids bucky whenever he does participate bc bucky’s always aggressively chucking the ball at him. sam and sharon boo at him every time they’re running laps and pass him sitting on the bleachers with his “sprained ankle”

- sharon is totally the student who sells candy/chips during lunch and somehow has never gotten caught by staff even tho literally everyone knows it’s her selling

- sambuckysharonzemo are for sure banned from sitting together in at least one class cuz they’re always giggling together in the back at the dumbest stuff possible

- zemo sharon and bucky land in detention once a month. sam is only able to rescue them from it because he vouches for them everytime and the staff trusts him

- buckysharonzemo: we’re sorry sam :/

sam: it’s fine guys

sam:

sam: i just think it’s funny how—

#i have SO MANY ideas for this #tfatws #sam wilson #sharon carter #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #karli morgenthau #john walker #lemar hoskins #joaquin torres #sambucky #sambuckysharonzemo

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aineryeo · 3 years ago

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Prominence ௹ ATSUMU

The letters of the first few days when you parted ways 📨

Prominence: “Find someone great, but don’t find someone better.” You’d say to yourself, though it was directed to your ex-boyfriend, writing in a number of papers, serving as letters. Awaiting your impending doom.

Timeskip! Atsumu x Reader

Synopsis: You break up with Atsumu Miya in hopes to alleviate his pain. And for what he'd have to deal with. » 6.2k Words

Warnings: Depictions of Mental Illnesses & actual disease, Angst, Suicidal tendencies, Cursing, Atsumu is an impulsive bitch, so is reader. Read at your own discretion. Do not read if this has any sort of possibility to trigger you, more if you feel encouraged to do something you shouldn’t. This isn’t what the fic is about.

It was a rainy day, droplets of water knocking on the window of what was your empty room. It wasn’t a space you were supposed to be getting used to at this point in your long life. A faint tune of a piano was penetrating through your thin walls as you stared into nothing in particular, maybe the particles that become visible with the peek of sunlight through the gray clouds piercing through your window pane.

Your body got up, but you had a stinging migraine, your limbs were weak, and today was an off-day from your work as a bustling city journalist. No phone calls for a sudden need for your presence in your job. Your blanket was wrapped around you loosely, your feet navigating through your creaking floors. How depressing.

Empty fridge.

Messy bed.

Disorganized papers.

And clothes in unsuspecting places.

Your clothes. None of his. You can’t even reminisce about him anymore. Your migraine seems to have gotten worse. You spot one of the few things that were left organized. Your letters. You grimaced, the pain suddenly pushed to the back of your head as you were reminded of the contents.

“It won’t be bad to see him, at least once.” You reason to yourself with a small smile, it wasn’t a happy one. Nonetheless it was one. One reason out of many when you were always reminded that he was already happy, that Atsumu no longer needed you, and your relationship was a ghost of the past.

It has been for a month now, how else would it go, when you were the one who ended it?

Yeah, it was a bad idea to see him. You scold yourself for coming here, furthering your torture. You see him with a huge smile, bigger than when he was with you. Brighter than when you last picked a joke, at least that was what you thought. You dated him since you were sixteen, young, and fresh in-love.

“Tsum, baby, not here.” You vaguely make out, from hiding behind one of the tall bleachers near the exit from where their practice usually resided in. She was very pretty, her voice silky. You hear a rumbling chuckle in return, you feel your spine shudder at the familiarity. “Hm, honey where do ya want me ta do it then? I jus’ can’t resist ya.” You took your small window to catch a glimpse of them. The perfect lovers.

This was selfish, you knew it. But you inwardly cheered for him, happy to know that he found someone great. That he was happy, even if it was at your expense. Your eyes were glossy, dams about to break, so you walk away; like you always do, like you always did. Your mouth formed into a shaky frown, your fists clenching ‘till you were white-knuckling nothing in particular. White-knuckling all your pain, perhaps.

It was when you exited the establishment, into the car park, into your cheap second-hand car, did your tears fall; until everything kept breaking, your multi-functional tape to bar all your emotions inside, failing you for the umpteenth time for the past month. You were all alone, still clutching your keys to open the door to the driver’s seat. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, which made you jolt, you were too surprised that you didn’t get to wipe your residual breakdown off your face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Your blurry eyes adjusted, and your heart almost jumped at the familiar face. You turned your face away from him, you were too ashamed to show your face to him. To the brother of the man you were still in love with. You changed your voice a few octaves higher, “Yeah! Thanks, sorry you had to see that.” Mishandling your keys before being able to open it quickly, though Osamu stopped you just as fast.

“I know it’s you, Y/N.”

You froze. “I’m not—”

Hearing a small laugh from him made you stop. “I think I’ve seen your car enough times before, with the same plate to know that it’s you when I parked right next to it.” Turning back, he already had his hand out holding a handkerchief.

“Sorry.”

He smiled sympathetically at your small figure, noticing that you’ve gotten smaller than you already were. More fragile. So he placed his hand that was roughly the size of your face, gently on top of your head to stroke it, hoping to bring you some comfort; roughly knowing the situation about you and his brother. How couldn’t he?

“It’ll be okay.”

It’s not. You recall, already sitting in your bathtub, not really crying, not really feeling anything of the sort. You exhaled as if it lightened your burdens. It won’t be.

You hum. Knees to your chest, “Not when...” You sigh, not now.

It was time for work, tedious work that requires you to write articles and camp out places at 2am in the morning, only to turn up and camp out at a different place again, just hoping for an interview for your channel. You didn’t feel like breaking down at all, but it felt like everything is typically more down. You refused to eat when your co-workers asked you to join them, you had no appetite.

You hadn’t for weeks.

A heavy feeling is always stuck inside you. Like everything is screaming at you, but you can’t scream back. You just can’t. Always heaving sighs, always staring into what once was blue skies, turned dull grey. Was it because you regretted having to let go of him? Or was it because of the news you had received prior to when you left him? Was it because the one time you felt like you couldn’t walk, the doctor told you that you had a few left; extend your life with a surgery that was high-risk.

Your hand ran through your hair for the umpteenth time, thoughts drifting to whether you should just end it quicker than what you had. What was the point? You failed to notice that your hand was writing on another piece of paper, as if documenting everything that ran through your mind. And maybe you wanted them to find out, when you’re gone. So you don’t have to face the burden of facing them afterwards and giving them any answers.

But you don’t want to ruin the happiness Atsumu had right now. He’ll blame himself, but this was all your fault. You ended it with a bad note so he’d forget you easily, you yelled at him, told him that he was useless, you didn’t love him anymore. You open your eyes, seeing yourself back at the situation where it all began, and where it all ended.

“Atsumu, I hate you.”

“Angel, what are ya saying? I said I was sorry! I’m tired from practice.” He replied, he was tired. He was stressed. You were stressing him. And he was getting rightfully agitated, it was working.

Your thoughts briefly flash to the days before, same old. You chose to do it days slowly, so it wouldn’t be too sudden; so he’d lose all love for you once you leave him. So you nitpick him again, even though it never really bothered you, “You always do this. Maybe we should just...” You swallow, it was like eating hard, bitter candy at once.

“What? Break up? Yeah, with your incessant yappin’ these days, Y/N, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” He said, looking at you with a harsh gaze. Similar to when some random fan begins screaming during his serving routine. You were nothing now. You nodded, if he had the right mind that time, he would’ve noticed that you were eerily calm; you were expecting this, why wouldn’t you?

“Yeah, break up.” You confirmed, with a somber smile. He hadn’t even noticed that more than half of your things were already gone from your shared apartment. You had one last suitcase, it was right beside the door. Atsumu failed to notice all the little things disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if he failed to also stop you before you hung your apron on the rack, turning the stove off, he was already gone. Into his bedroom, where he slept, too tired for anything his aching muscles couldn’t take right now. Your keys left untouched on the table before you left him altogether. Always, just always looking back with a heavy grimace.

The skies were the same color from that day, to everyday, same grey.

It wasn’t long before you found out he had a new love. Apparently an avid, and innocent fan of his whom he met during one of his morning runs in the park.

“What’re you writing there, Y/N?” One of your co-workers as of now, Akaashi Keiji, brought your head back up in the present. You hummed, folding the paper your hand subconsciously wrote in, and placing it in your pocket. “Nothing, really. My hand just kind of moves on its own when I think of anything in general.”

He smiles, sweet. “That’s endearing. Must be why you’re quite famous in the department.”

You chuckle, “I’m not famous, Keiji. If anything, this job just keeps giving me migraines. You’re the real MVP as a great editor in your dept.”

His hand was rubbing his nape, laughing softly with you. You stood up, supposed to get some water only to fall back down again. Your co-worker quickly catches you with worry etched in his delicate features.

“Y/N, have you been eating?” No, but..

“Keiji, I can’t feel my legs.”

It was showing.

You asked Keiji not to tell anyone, he in turn, asked if any of your family members knew this. It made you chortle, you said, “No. My grandmother died years ago, I’m an only child, and my parents didn’t last.” It wasn’t a funny thing, you knew that but it made you laugh anyway. Laugh at how pathetic you were.

He looked at you, on your bed at your home that he had kindly helped you in after calling your doctor from before. Saying it was that the disease was starting to become severe, causing your limbs, your legs, your arms, to lose its sensation. Slowly, you’ll become more agitated, and it’ll be harder for you to talk, or even move. Only your co-worker, and your boss knew for the time-being.

“You don’t have to help me. I know you’re busy.” You said, though weak, “I’ll only weigh you down.”

Keiji sighed, he knew that you worry too much about other people, he knew that you got lost enough to stop thinking about yourself. And it was sad, he empathized with you in the way that you were both overthinkers, though he’d understood for a while that you were more hasty with decision-making.

“No.” He said, simple.

You looked down at the blanket that covered your bottom half, your top half facing the big, musty, old window next to your bed. Facing away from Akaashi.

“Why?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, save for the usual noise from the surrounding roads. He looked up, before he looked back at your weak figure. “It’s just you—you’re all alone.” Walking around to the other side so he can face you. About to utter a tad more to his sentence, he stopped when he saw your eyes blown wide, a bit red at the bottom, a hard attempt to stop tears from falling. He didn’t miss a beat after, quickly crouching, and allowing your head to rest on his chest.

“So I thought you could use some company.”

You appreciated your co-worker, now close friend’s generous help. It’s been a few weeks, and you’ve been spending it cooped up in the hospital. He had also forced you to finally admit yourself so you can get immediate assistance in the case that something similar were to happen again. A similar event where he was forced to carry you to your car, and drive you home.

The cords stuck to your skin to hydrate you was a bother, but it was manageable. Here were your last few months alive. You still had no idea why you couldn’t just leave. You had no specific goal, you were bound to hit rock-bottom, and the least you can get is a few more months, maybe years of living if you get the surgery. There was no point, nothing to live for. You could work on your career, but what can you really do with legs that can barely stand, and… hands that can’t even pick up a pen.

The latter was the one that you cried to every night if you had tears to spare. The latter was the one where you try to continuously hit your head in hopes it can keep writing. It was such a simple task, why couldn’t it do its job? When Akaashi came to visit one afternoon, he had to rush and grab the sharp pen you had in your barely moving left hand, attempting to dig it in the skin of the right. Just to feel if it was still alive.

Then it was requested to have no pens, or sharp objects left near you without supervision. You’d call your friends, if by friends, you mean other than occasional visits from your co-workers that didn’t know much about your personal life; but still had the courtesy of visiting you nonetheless after hearing news from the boss, you’d consent to it since you were leaving the field. But he hasn’t fired you yet, apparently.

Sometimes it shifts, when your arms refuse to work, your legs will move for a bit, vice versa. A frown forms on your face when it happens to be both. Why couldn’t this just be quicker? You ponder, and hear the door open. Expecting the only person who visits you so frequently.

“Keij—” You stopped. He stopped. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm? So I can’t visit ya now?” Oh, his familiar tone.

“How did you even know I was here?” You said, a bit agitated.

“Asked one of yer co-workers.” He shrugged.

“...You visited my workplace? And they told you immediately?” You raised your brow, bringing your body up to sit on the bed instead. It was a feat on its own, but he’d seen your struggle, he was about to reach and help actually.

“Yeah, I had deliveries to make.” He said, leaning back. “And I may have made them slip it after overhearin’ yer name. Couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re ridiculous, ‘Samu.” You smiled, for the first time in a while. He could tell that it wasn’t a normal occurrence in a while, the thought of at least alleviating your stress for a bit eased a tide inside Osamu.

Osamu took his hat off, putting it on the table next to your bed. He was humoring you, because he didn’t want you to see the first look on his face when he confirmed that it really was you who's been confined here. Not any other person with the same name. He sat on the sofa beside you, next to the window. You’d lie if your heart didn’t clench at the sight of him, If you’d look inside, you’ll spot the tinge of pain; but outside, all Osamu could see was that you still adored him. By that, he meant his brother. He knew he might trigger you due to him being the twin of what was your love. Still is, he was sure.

Clearing his throat, your trance broke. “Y/N.”

“Hm.” You lay your back flat on the metal headboard covered in the white pillows of your white bed, in your white room.

“Why are you here?” It was true that Osamu had heard you were confined in the hospital while he was making deliveries to your place coincidentally, so he couldn’t help but perk his ears. Despite your break-up, he was still your childhood friend, and although he heard of the story of how it ended from none other than his brother’s dull voice on the phone that night he was closing up Onigiri Miya; he knew there must’ve been something that caused you to do that other than Atsumu himself. He’d investigate, and help rekindle the lifelong relationship you both shared if he wasn’t so busy himself. And if his brother hadn’t immediately used a rebound to inflict immediate pain upon you, maybe he’d have considered it.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Osamu sighs, “You do. Tell me,” he looks at you with sincerity, placing his coarse palm from the work he’s been juggling in, on top of your pale, lifeless hands. Almost wincing at the cold temperature they held, “Please.”

You sucked in a breath, he placed his, what you assume to be, warm hand on top of yours. But you felt nothing. So you let it out, “I have Friedreich’s Ataxia. Apparently it’s genetic, uh, doesn’t allow me to use these flimsy things.” You glanced at your legs, slightly waving them along with your hands, “I can’t even feel the warmth of your hand right now. I mean, that is, if you’re warm. It’s always cold here. The doctors said they’d try to give me therapy and train me to walk again, or actually use my hands.” You chuckle.

“And something about heart surgery, though that won’t really extend my life for long.” You finish, opting to insert a joke that you thought was bright until you let it out, “Better than turning out blind though! Haha… Kidding, it may happen to me too, which sucks, by the way.”

Your rambling was cut off when you were met with an intense stare from Osamu. “And you’ve found out of this, when?”

“...Nearly 2 months.. Ago?” You gulped the lump that was stuck in your throat.

Osamu rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. “So that was the reason?”

You retained silence.

He sighs. “I knew it would be a valid reason, but I really wasn’t hoping it would be this.” His face hidden in his big hands, frustration was visible. But it was the breathy question of, “Why are the gods this cruel?” To which your eyes soften, albeit a little bit.

“Samu, can I ask a favor?”

He looks at you, face out of his palms. “Sure.”

“Can you… Turn the TV on?” He raised a brow at first before standing up and getting the remote by the stand, switching it on, immediately being greeted by the sports channel on Volleyball. Oh, they had a game today. He had nearly forgotten due to this new revelation from you. He looked at your face that was staring directly at the screen, then he saw the number thirteen, and his heart clenched tighter.

He placed the remote on the table beside your bed, and he took his black cap. He spun it on his finger for a bit, “I won’t tell ‘Sumu.”

You hummed again, before looking at him. “Thank you.” Then he smiles sweetly at you before turning around, his face immediately turning into a painful grimace. Because even he could feel the tragedy of this love.

Each day you were gone was a punch in the gut for Atsumu. His initial lack of reaction to his overreaction, trying to get back at you for leaving him. It was wrong. All he ever wanted was to call you, tell you to come back, have you in his arms, the lot. He’d miss the smell of your hair when he hugs you tight, or the clean apartment whenever he comes home to you beaming, cooking dinner; like his precious wife-to-be. Though he hadn’t proposed, the ring he bought for you started collecting dust in his drawer.

The girl he was with didn’t really last long, she broke it off after getting annoyed by him calling your name instead of hers on any normal occasion on impulse. His head in his hands, bed half-empty. His games gave him a little bit of adrenaline, but every time he sees the empty spot saved for you in his jersey, the adrenaline will scafe off, bit by bit. It’d be a lie if he said that he didn’t at least try to call your number in the past two months, he had actually, for a couple of times. But your number was unreachable, and your social media was non-existent.

It was like you weren’t real. Like a ghost. Sand that was slipping far from his fingers, his hold. His hold loosened in a moment of weakness.

To say his biggest regret was the night you left was a lie, because the biggest regret he ever made was never immediately trying to get you back. He was dazed off in the locker rooms after one of their games, his water bottle in hand. Hinata waved in front of him, Bokuto right next; to which his daze cut off.

“You okay, Tsum?”

He smiled, nodding. But his teammates knew it wasn’t the same for a while now. He was more rigid and tired in his movements. Probably not the kind of exhaustion that could be solved by sleep.

“Yeah, no worries.” Even Sakusa worriedly glances once in a while, he still cares, though not openly shown. Atsumu slung his gym bag over his shoulders after changing, he decided to visit his brother in his shop for now. He was walking out to drive when he accidentally bumped into someone, trapped in his little thoughts about you again.

“Oh—Sorry, didn’t see ya there.” Atsumu apologized, knowing it was his fault.

“It’s okay, Miya-san.” It took a few moments before Atsumu registered who this was.

“Akaashi? Keiji? Bokuto talks about ya all the time! Nice to meet ya.” He smiled, putting his hand out for him to shake. To which the latter man does. Oh, Akaashi recognizes him, not just from being his friend’s teammate; but from being your ex. He concluded in his thoughts by the few seconds they shook hands that he wished for him to not find out about you any longer. Thinking about the pain it would cause for both of you, especially him. They nodded at each other before bidding goodbyes and heading off to their own destinations.

Atsumu drove past the busy streets of the city, traffic holding him back a little bit. He was stopped a little bit in front of the city hospital. He didn’t know why, but his gaze lingered on the building a little longer than he’d like to admit. His left hand clutching the wheel, the other on the stick; Why does it feel like… He shakes his head to rid himself of ridiculous thoughts, seeing as the cars were finally moving, he did too.

Just as his foot pressed on the accelerator, his eyes landed on you. His eyes were the widest it had been, and this was the day he felt the most emotions since the day you left him.

“Y/N?” He asks, though his window was turned up and he was inside his car. He must be going crazy. Were you on a wheelchair? Was it really you? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him again, just like it had been every time he visited places he used to go with you. Or when he needed anything in particular, his first call in the apartment would be your name, expecting an answer back like you always had been.

He rolls his window down, and at that moment he swears your eyes met before you quickly changed vision. He’d run out of his car to chase you right now, if it weren’t for the honking behind him. Fuck.

He drives forward, and goes around to park for the hospital real quickly. Just to see if he wasn’t going insane by the amount of times he’d imagined seeing you again. He looks around the area, arriving at the greener part of the hospital, probably one of the places where they take some patients out for walks. Atsumu’s heart beats faster when he sees the same beautifully familiar hair, and angelic face he’s fallen in love with. He misses a beat, he stops, just plainly admiring; he notices your weaker stature, and your crest-fallen face. Paler skin, and limp limbs. And for that mistake, he fails to notice you were being guided in already.

He panics. About to bolt when he suddenly trips over his feet, and gets a bloody knee as the door closes. That doesn’t stop Atsumu, no, he’s dealt with much worse; one of which was the pain of not having you in his life. So he runs, and he sees the wheelchair you resided in enter the elevator; and once again, he swears, he swears, that his breath catches in his throat as he sees your eyes, and you see his.

And maybe he didn’t know, and maybe you didn’t know, but for the first time in months, you both saw colors.

“She was there, ‘Samu, I was sure of it!” Atsumu yells even in the midday of the bustling Onigiri Miya.

“Yer delusional as always, ‘Sumu. Ya should get yer head checked.” Osamu says from the kitchen in the back, there was faint squealing from the men and women alike in the restaurant. Feeling blessed for being able to witness the Miya twins in one sitting. And bantering, no less; even if it was over a girl.

“I can’t have mistaken it. I know when I see ma’ girl, Samu. Ya know it.” Atsumu groans, burying his head in his arms on the counter. “But when I asked the nurses, none of ‘em are giving me details. They say there ain’t Y/N L/N on their recent list of confined patients.”

Osamu was lucky he was working the kitchen right now, because he was low-key nervous of what to say, to not compromise you. How was his brother so close to it anyway? He wants to drive him away. He thinks he can agree with your rationale, but when he thinks of his brother’s side, wouldn’t it be more painful to just find out that you were just… Gone? His mind was splitting in half because of this dreaded situation, until Atsumu called him out again.

“Hey, ya scrub! Are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu lightheartedly yelled as Osamu’s heart softened. If anything, he didn’t want to see his brother bear the pain of losing you, permanently.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut yer trap. I have a business running here. Yer scaring off the customers.” Osamu says, getting out of the kitchen, arms crossed with a scowl.

“Help me, Samu. I just… Can’t bear to lose her.” Atsumu finally says, with a lace of evident longing. Osamu’s face contorts into a myriad of reactions that he couldn’t pick from. Before he settled with a sigh, and a lean on his forearms to poke his brother roughly on the forehead. A grunt of pain from the blonde.

“The only one who can help ya is yerself. If ya want to go find her, go ahead. Whatever your choice will be, don’t let it end with regret.” Was all he said before he went away to tend to the girls who were about to order, red-faced, and all.

Atsumu didn’t understand it a bit. How was that supposed to help him? He thinks. His fist digging into his cheek, face contorted into heavy thinking. It went on like that. He had no other clue, but he kept visiting the hospital, kept driving through, hoping he could catch a glimpse of you; to prove to himself that you were real. But for the first few days, he had no sign of you whatsoever. He kept bugging the nurses, or at least asking them everyday and ended up getting rejected again, and again, and again.

He sat in his car parked in the hospital on his free-day. As if a lightbulb turned on, he felt stupid for not visiting your workplace. They should at least know something about you, right? You were pretty well-known, and idolized in the industry. So he drove there, he may or may not have sped up a little more than he should but all in good purpose. He arrived there, and immediately knew where to park, the signature spot for everytime he comes to drive you home. Recently hearing that you bought a car when you broke up with him, made him sink a little bit. But he saw the spot was taken, eyebrows furrowing for a little before parking to the spot next to it.

When he got out, he noticed that the car that took your spot had dusting on it. As if it hadn’t been let out in a while. Or used. Quickly putting two-and-two together, maybe this was your car? The one you had bought? And if it hadn’t been used in a while… Then that supports his thoughts about you being in the hospital. His face shifted into worry. That must mean.. Whatever you had been sick of, was serious if you haven’t been using your car as often, considering your job was hectic.

He shook the thoughts off for a while, determined to find more clues about you instead. But he thinks the search suddenly became too easy when he suddenly heard a few gossiping women.

“Oh, poor Ms. L/N… She’s been hospitalized for a month now.”

“Really? Have you heard of any reason why?”

“I’m still unsure but I heard it’s chronic, and she doesn’t really have long.”

He sucks in a harsh breath. What? His ears perk up more to their conversation. He hides behind a wall, he assumes that they’re probably heading for their lunch break as a group right now.

Then a snicker, “I know this is kind of mean, but who’ll be replacing her now? Surely her position is up for debate.”

Atsumu’s face darkens at this. Stepping out of the wall as his big frame became all the more intimidating, “I mean, she’ll be biting the dust sooner or—”

“Shut your damn mouth, filthy whore.” Atsumu says with a sneer. Chin up, looking down. “Continue that sentence and I’ll see who bites the fuckin’ dust first.” A whimper, “It’s him again!” Shuffled feet, then they’re gone and out of his sights.

It takes a sigh, and a slump in his posture before everything sinks in. What does this mean? Is it.. True?

He shook his head, sure, you weren’t looking so good when he last saw you. You looked especially sick. But it was like nobody, not even the universe, had wanted him to see you. He thought back to the gossiping workers earlier. It’s him again? Atsumu hasn’t visited in a while, and he doesn’t think that he’s seen them… Oh.

Fuck, Osamu.

He could pass off as a professional racer with the speed he was driving at, only lucky enough to not have any cops tailing him. He was breathing heavily, his brother knew about you and didn’t tell him anything apart from that vague statement a few days ago? He couldn’t help the light betrayal he felt but in all honesty, he’d much rather force his brother to take him to you now. So when he arrived in Onigiri Miya, he didn’t waste a second dragging his brother out who was grumbling incessantly.

“The fuck ‘Sumu, I have a business to run!”

“No you, The fuck ‘Samu. You knew where Y/N was? Take me to her, now.” Atsumu said, foot on the ground, he won’t let anything come between his decisions now. Taking the bag of Onigiri from Osamu’s hand, “I’ll take this too. I’ll pay for it, I need to give a treat at least but we’re kind of in a hurry.” Osamu sighed, finally getting the gist of the situation. Deciding to spare his brother, he’d have to apologize to you later for spilling the beans. But he thinks he needs to let his brother let his feelings out as well.

“Okay.”

“No, you don’t have any other cho—Okay. Okay, get in the car.”

Osamu briefly yells at the part-timer he recently hired, telling them to take over for a while. To which they nodded eagerly, and so, the brothers left. Save for the quiet ride for the first few minutes. “...How—” Atsumu clears his throat, “How is she?”

A quiet beat, Osamu thinks of his answer. He settles for a passive one, “Okay.”

“Hn.” Atsumu grunts.

Osamu leans back on the passenger seat, “Just… Just make sure you don’t regret any of this.”

Atsumu raises a thick brow at this, “Why would I?”

“I think you already know why.”

He sucks in a harsh breath at this, and the silence remains. Atsumu reaches the hospital, parks the car, and Osamu leads the way to your room. Every step Atsumu took felt like the ground was shaking and trying to eat him whole. He wanted to see your pretty face again, your smile that could make his day whole and puff his chest out, or your hands that would comb through his hair and ask how it’s so soft when he bleaches it regularly.

So why was he seeing your writhing body under nurses yelling your name this time. Osamu breathes in, slowly understanding the situation as he quickly glances at his brother who was frozen. Both of them kept walking, until they were in front of what was supposed to be your room. Door open, and multiple people, trying to keep you alive. He hears that the doctor is coming, that you should wait, that you’ll get better in no time, at this point Atsumu didn’t know if the reassurances were for him instead.

When he sees your weak hand gripping the railing of your bed, he breaks. The bag of Onigiri long forgotten on the floor as he runs towards your bed.

“Darling, hey, hey, Angel, you—Yer okay, yeah? You’ll be fine, please be okay.” Atsumu says with shaky hands gripping yours, it was intensely cold, as if you weren’t even alive in the first place. He wishes so much that he was the one to give you warmth. “Look at me, you’ll be okay.”

And for the second time in a while, your eyes meet his, your weak, fragile, pretty little eyes; finally meeting him. The nurses noticed you calming down more, but your state wasn’t getting any better. They were initially going to let Atsumu out, but noticing the intimate relationship you two seemed to have displayed, they decided against it. More focused on bringing you back to life.

You had the heart surgery. You took the leap to extend your life, ever since you caught a glimpse of him a few days back; you just knew that the biggest regret you’d ever have is to never try. You told Akaashi when he visited that you were deciding on it, and he was supportive. He was really supportive. But you weren’t blind that it was a risk that may also shorten your life instead. Though wasn’t that what you were asking for, this whole time?

So maybe the time you got out of the surgery unscathed was the calm before the storm, it was the calm before this. But you were glad that even through your hazy vision, it was him that showed. It was Atsumu that kept telling you to look into his pretty eyes, and tell you that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu thinks that even in this situation, you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. So when the most beautiful thing slipped from his grasp, with no chance of clutching it back; his heart is torn, and burnt into crisps, non-existent flakes as his mind replays every memory he’s ever had with you, and how he was standing and watching warm, sunny spring turn into the ruthless, cold winter.

Osamu watched his brother break down in front of your bed, his own tears mixing in the lot, his cap covering most of his face. Another familiar figure that frequented visits with you, a solemn expression on his usual calm face. Heavy feeling on his chest, Akaashi approached the man who lay on his knees in front of your bed while the nurses that were scrambling to keep your life had promptly announced the date and time of your death.

Akaashi handed the box in his hand towards Atsumu who was kneeling with all his might, head on the ground, continuously asking for forgiveness from you, continuously asking for more time, just a little more. He hates this, he hates it. Because, when it sank in, you were gone.

The scene of your death. ⁆ To Visualize :) But instead of it being Kousei playing the piano, it's Atsumu when he plays volleyball, but when someone comes up to him, tapping on his back with a bright smile for an interview after the game; it's not you.

#Atsumu Miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #break up #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #timeskip atsumu #timeskip haikyuu #Akaashi Keiji #Atsumu angst #MSBY

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spookybias · 3 years ago

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ᝰ WHO I THINK MY MUTUALS WERE WRITTEN BY ˎˊ˗

this is just for fun and i tried my best to not make anything sound like personal attacks or like they were directed at anyone. i think i had too much fun writing these because now i wanna turn them into blurbs. anywhore, enjoy! i hope i did this right.

@hobqs ― an irresponsible author who lost custody of her child. she wasn't given any custody at the courthouse, or even any visitation rights. all she has of her child are the memories of their awful occurrences and a handful of pictures that are torn at the edges. so she writes of a character who is funny and refreshing, and doesn't let anyone crush their perspective of the world ―the qualities she believes her child now has. the mother hopes that someday, her child will read her book and say, "i want to meet this author."

@bluhr ― a group of bullied boys hiding under the bleachers. they're tired of being pushed around and humiliated, but are too intimidated to do anything about it. one of them sniffles and wipes his nose as the four of them take turns letting their imagination run wild, jotting down everything the student who saves them should be. wacky and wonderous, this person is a reason to have faith in humanity. it's only after writing down the aspects of their non-existent savior, that they find the courage to at least tell their bullies to screw off next time.

@boba-beom ― a pessimistic barista who needs some light in their life. they gave up on their hopes and dreams after getting kicked out of school for some happenings they wish they could erase. dealing with customers is a drag, and they only wish to have something more to look forward to. on a slow business day, they find themselves scribbling on a coffee-stained napkin; a character light and sweet whose pats on the back and tired sighs are somehow the most motivating thing in the world. they'll get out of their dead-end job one day. their napkin character said so.

@sherlockholicsbysoobin ― an angry boyfriend who's tired of being pushed around. he only took up writing because his s/o liked it, and as always, he does what his s/o wants him to do. he finds himself writing up an assignment for an extra class he couldn't care less about. but after writing for about an hour, he can't help but adore the character he's created ―a light-hearted being a with silver soul who gets into the simplest of hijinx. he realizes that he's gained nothing but trauma from his current relationship and wants to find someone more like his oc.

@enluv ― an iridescent teenager who's hopeless in the corner of a hospital room. are they already dead? is their life flashing before their eyes, or are they just passing by? their boyfriend broke up with them yesterday afternoon. he said he wanted a lover, not a patient. the doctors say whatever they have is rare, and everyone is getting ready for them go, even when they have a chance of living. they just want someone to sit with them. on their notepad, there's a story of an affable and ambitious friend of a sick kid who fills the room with laughter and good times. someone who says, "get well soon" instead of "i'll miss you".

@choiwrld ― a hopeful baker's spilled flour in an alleyway bakery. perhaps one of his kids were tracing their finger along the counter beforehand, because flour doesn't just fall over and land like that. flour doesn't just tell the tale of an enchanting and easy-spirited individual with more goals than you can count. but the baker doesn't clean the flour up right away. he rereads and reminisces on the story and hopes that one day, his children can grow up to become someone just like this mysterious character on the counter.

@iuwon ― a rowdy rebel who's over being scolded. she sits in the principal's office with her feet on the desk and her notebook in her lap, pencil in hand. her science notes are crossed out to make room for her character, the support system she needs. someone who won't tell her what to do, but tell her their opinion on what she's doing and ask her why she does what she does. someone who likes to chuckle and cringe and hug and pat heads. etiquette and goals would be more worth it if she had a friend like that.

@igyus ― an anxious middle school girl who's been left alone longer than she should be. her household sucks, her parents started leaving her alone earlier that they should've. her friends can't always come over, and sometimes she forgets how to use the stove. maybe the whole home alone thing is making her lose her mind, but lately, she swears she has an older sibling. they're the ones who leave her meals in the microwave and make her laugh so loud the neighbors can't help but ponder why she's laughing alone. they're never there to answer the door but there's proof of this laid-back and funky, loving older sibling in the girl's anxiety journal.

@hkfilm ― the words just kind of appeared one day. no one is sure who wrote the name and story of this abstract character, but everyone gets goosebumps passing the words written on the walls of the basement stairwell. and it's not long before people are whispering, "did you hear?" some say it was the ghost of another who left the story of a playful and prized person who's mesmerized by the tiniest of things, but no one can be sure. and like all tales, this one becomes twisted overtime. it's the uneasiness of the students that give this character every trait they list and humane existence. and there's nothing scary about this character except the uncertainty of where they came from.

@softbbyg0rl ― an extraterrestrial phenomenon. it's one of those unexplained and remarkable instances. the world just woke up and there were creases and crumbles and a canyon that spelled out the story of a happy-go-lucky and humorous being. the stars wrote it. the aliens wrote it. the natural disasters wrote it. no one is sure who or what came up with this character, but it's a mutual agreement that this is what the human race should be like.

@missskzbiased ― an observant teenage girl who's riding the train alone for the first time. she'll be staying with her grandparents for the next few months and is undeniably excited to explore somewhere she's never been before. but she also can't deny the fear that she feels about being alone for several months. and so she jots down in her journal someone she hopes to meet, the friend she wants to make. someone whose voice sounds like home, a kind-hearted listener who tries their best to be honest. and she trusts that she'll meet this character.

@hooniee ― a daydreaming grandma baking cinnamon rolls. she had always wanted grandchildren, but she didn't have any kids herself that could bring her such joy. she finds herself writing on a cinnamon smudged and glaze stained post-it note, the recipe for a child too pure for this world; someone undoubtedly misunderstood but indubitably creative and soft-hearted. maybe one day she'll be graced with such a presence, but until then, she's left alone with her cinnamon rolls.

#if yours makes you uncomfortable please dm me ASAP and i'll delete it immediately #𖦆 ― mutuals

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fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

Text

troubled youth

Sometimes kids fight. And it’s up to their parents to resolve the conflict.

"I'm sorry, dear," Hange whispered soothingly, looking down at the mouse. She patted it once and then took scalpel in her hands. "But it's for the sake of science..."

Before she could make the first incision, her phone started ringing. Hange cursed, taking it out. Who the hell could call her right now? Anyone who knew her, also knew that she was not to be disturbed during work hours. Hange glanced at the screen and cursed again. Just one name, but already she felt the beginnings of a migraine.

"Good day, Mr. Shadis," she greeted. "I'm very busy, so let's skip the pleasantries. What horrible deed did my son do this time?"

"It's a serious matter, Doctor Zoe," he answered in a grave tone. "Your son got into a fight."

"A fight?" Hange gasped. "Is he hurt?"

"Just a few scratches. But you must come to my office. I want to talk with you about boy's behavior. And no," he added. "We can't do it over the phone. The other boy's father will come too."

"Fine," and just like that, Hange was brought back to her high school years. Shadis was her teacher too and used to scold her all the time. She was young and dumb then, and used to admire him. A lot. Thankfully, those days were long gone, and now she could see that Keith Shadis she respected so much was pretty incompetent at his job. He couldn't even handle her son, for crying out loud. "I'll come as soon as I can," she promised and hung up.

"Moblit!" she called, taking off the protective goggles.

"Yes?" his sandy blond head appeared in the doorway almost immediately. "Do you need something?"

"I need to go," Hange sighed, staring longingly at the mouse. "Can you finish the dissection for me?"

"Sure," Moblit nodded. "Is everything alright? You never leave early."

Hange rubbed her temples, showing Moblit a tired smile. "Jean got into a fight. Now his teacher wants to talk with me."

"A fight?" Moblit's eyes widened. "Did he get hurt?"

"Shadis says it's nothing serious, but I still need to go. Can you cover for me?"

"Of course! I'll take care of everything, don't worry. Just make sure that Jean is alright."

"Thank you, Moblit," passing him by, Hange briefly squeezed his shoulder. "Text me, if you need anything."

*** "Erwin?" Levi knocked at the door to his boss' office. "Do you have a moment?"

Erwin looked up from his computer screen to stare at Levi. "Sure," he shrugged. "Something happened?"

"Eren got into another fight," Levi scowled, plucking his lips in disgust. "And now his idiotic teacher wants to have a talk with me."

"A fight?" Erwin frowned. "Is Eren doing fine?"

"Nothing too serious, but I need to go now. Can I leave earlier?"

"No problem," Erwin assured. "But Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't scare the teacher too much," he said with a grin. “And don’t terrorise the other kid!”

Levi rolled his eyes. "Fuck off," he flipped Erwin off and then left the office.

***

Hange threw the school's door open, storming inside. She hurried up the stairs, furious and enraged. She would show Shadis and the parent of that kid why no one could ever mess with her and especially her—

Son.

Stepping onto the needed floor, Hange's eyes instant locked onto a small boy. Jean was sitting on a bench beside the classroom, holding an ice pack to his face.

Looking at his miserable face, Hange's heart fell. She rushed to his side, falling to her knees in front of him.

"Jean?" she pressed him to her chest, rocking him slightly. "Jean, baby, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Jean pushed her away. "It doesn't hurt, really."

Good thing, Hange noted mentally. If Jean was acting embarrassed of her affection, then he wasn't that badly hurt.

"Still," she insisted. "Let me see."

Carefully and gently, she took away the ice pack. Jean's cheek was swollen and slightly blue, but nothing serious.

"Does it look too ugly?" Jean whispered.

"Not at all," Hange smiled encouragingly. "You look like a real badass right now."

Jean grinned widely and Hange chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"Why the hell are you wearing a lab coat?" spoke a low, monotone voice.

Instinctively, Hange looked down at herself. And then shrieked, jumping back from Jean.

"Oh, god, I probably forgot to take it off when I was leaving the lab! Jean, honey, wait a second, you know I work with dangerous chemicals!"

Hange hastily shrugged off her jacket and then the lab coat, throwing it out in the nearest trash can.

"There!" she breathed out a sigh of relief, plopping down to sit next to Jean. "The crisis has been averted!"

"Will the kid be alright?" the man asked. Hange finally turned to look at him, the man was sitting on the other side of the hallway, next to another boy Jean's age. Hange squinted, getting a better look at the pair. The man was short, but well-build, his face could even be called handsome, if he wasn't scowling so much. Hange then shifted her gaze to a boy—and squealed in delight.

"Eren!" she approached the kid, clasping him on a shoulder. "So you're another troublemaker, huh?"

“I guess,” he shrugged. “I’m sorry for—” he awkwardly pointed at Jean. “You know.”

“It’s fine,” Hange waved him off. “I can see that Jean has left his mark, too,” she gestured at Eren’s red cheek.

“It isn’t a laughing matter, four-eyes,” Eren’s father glowered, glaring at her. “Your son punched mine.”

“Dad—” Eren whispered urgently, tugging at his sleeve. “Don’t.”

“They’re children,” Hange waved him off with a careless smile. “They don’t know better yet. A little fight is nothing.”

“Maybe, it is nothing,” he agreed, although his gaze remained cold. “For the reckless parents like you.”

“Reckless?!” Hange’s eye widened. “Just what are you implying—”

She was interrupted by the sound of the opened door.

“Doctor Zoe! Mr. Ackerman!” Shadis called. “Please, come to my office. Your children can wait outside.”

Hange sent a seething glare at Mr. Ackerman, and then returned to Jean, crouching down to pull him into another hug.

“It won’t take too long, okay?” she smiled softly at him. “And then I’ll treat you to an ice-cream, deal?”

“Deal!” Jean nodded, leaning in to peck her on the cheek. “Good luck.”

“Your teacher doesn’t scare me,” Hange chuckled. Her eyes went dark, as she saw that Eren’s father was already inside. “And neither does this shorty.”

***

When Hange sat down on the chair next to the annoying midget, she suddenly felt like she wasn't a grown-up and a parent. Instead she felt like a child, who was going to be scolded by a strict teacher.

"I'm sure you two know why I asked you to come here," Shadis put his hands on a table and looked at them with a serious face.

"Of course," the shorty answered. "We're here because her child," he pointed at Hange. "Doesn't know how to talk with his peers."

"My child doesn't know how to talk? It's your son, who punched mine!"

Eren was a nice kid, really, and Hange felt bad for putting the blame on him. After all, it wasn't his fault that his father was such a jerk, who got on her nerves so easily.

"We don't know if it was Eren who threw the first punch," the shorty said, his voice was still stoically calm. It pissed Hange even more.

"Actually, we do know who started the fight," Shadis interfered. "It was Eren."

Hange grinned victoriously. She barely resisted from pumping her fist in the air. Take that, shorty.

"However," Shadis raised a finger. "It was Jean who started taunting Eren."

The smile instantly slipped from her face.

"The boy is clearly a bully," the shorty scoffed. "Eren just fought back, so I don't quite understand the point of me being here. Eren did nothing wrong, her son is at fault here."

"Oi!" Hange raised her voice, glaring daggers at him. "My son is not a bully!" Sure, maybe, Jean was a bit too straightforward and outspoken sometimes. But he wasn't a bully! "It's your son who's got problems. He was the one who hit Jean! Even if Jean was making fun of him, why couldn't he resolve this with words?"

"Maybe," the shorty hissed, all of his careful composure gone. "Maybe, your son doesn't understand words. Just like you."

"And maybe your son is prone to violence!" Hange argued back. "Just like you!

"My son—"

"Enough!" Shadis slapped his hand onto the table. Hange was suddenly brought back to the time, when he used to chide her for smoking under the bleachers.

"I won't tolerate your petty squabbles in this room. For crying out loud," he rubbed tiredly at his face. "You're just as bad as your children. I don't care who was in the right, and who was in the wrong. I brought you here for another reason. It's not the first time your sons got into an argument. They're fighting constantly, sometimes during classes, and I cannot let it continue."

"Mr. Shadis?" Hange spoke quietly, feeling that she knew where this was going. "Just what are you trying to say?"

Shadis sighed. "I don't care what you do. Have a talk with them, explain why fighting is wrong, doesn't matter to me. But if I catch them arguing again, I'd have to expel them both."

"Mr. Shadis!" Hange rose from her seat. "You can't do that!"

"And I don't want to," he said sincerely. "But I have no choice. The rest is up to you. You may go now."

Walking out of the classroom, Hange ruffled her hair in frustration. Fuck, she couldn't do it right now. She was so busy with her work, she had no time to look for a new school. And Jean liked it so much here, he would be heartbroken to leave his friends behind. She should find a way to prevent this.

"Hey, four-eyes," the shorty called once they were back in the hallway.

"It's Hange," she corrected absentmindedly, trying to think of a way to tell Jean that they might need to start looking for a new school.

"I'm Levi," that got Hange's attention. She turned to look at him, curious as to what he wanted from her now. Was he going to criticize her parenting skills once again? Hange knew she wasn't the perfect parent, she worked too much and she was too soft on Jean, but she did what she could to make a good man out of him. And she wouldn’t let some stupid midget batter her for it.

"Listen, Hange," Levi started, somewhat reluctantly. "I think we've started off on the wrong foot."

Hange stared at him with wide eyes. Was he trying to apologize? She almost opened her mouth to tease him, but then changed her mind. Maybe, shorty was right. It was enough that their kids were fighting. They should act like adults.

"I shouldn't have—" he paused, clearing his throat. "I shouldn't have said all these things about you and your son. I shouldn't have called him a bully."

"I agree," Hange nodded, watching him warily. "And I shouldn't have talked about Eren so badly. He's a nice kid."

"He is," Levi agreed. "But you're right, he is a bit violent. I— I'm working on it."

"And Jean likes to make fun out of people," Hange hanged her head. "I'm also working on it."

"Maybe, we should work on it together?" Levi offered.

"Huh?" Hange frowned. "I don't quite understand."

"Well, we could," Levi turned his gaze away, deliberately avoiding her eyes. "We could get a coffee or something. Buy kids some ice-cream, take them to the park."

"Oh."

"I don't think it'd be that easy to make Eren understand that punching people is bad, he's not that good at controlling his emotions, and I can't afford to find another school right now, so," Levi adjusted his tie and then looked up at Hange, his expression open and earnest. For some reason, Hange found his nervousness endearing. Maybe, he wasn't that much of an asshole after all. "Maybe, we can make them become friends?"

"Let's try," Hange agreed, smiling at him.

*** "It looks like they're starting to get along," Hange noted. She and Levi were sitting on a bench in the park, watching the kids chase each other around the playground.

"It's the ice-cream," Levi said. "The sugar makes them friendlier."

“Huh,” Hange sat back on a bench, straightening her long legs. "I should invest in more candies then."

"Thank you," Levi blurted out. "F-for taking me up on my offer. I know I was an asshole to you—"

"Levi," Hange softly patted his arm. "You've apologized already. I wasn't on my best behavior either."

"Still," Levi pressed. "I— we've changed three schools already and I don't know if I can find another one right now. Eren is a good kid. He really is," he repeated, clenching his jaw. "But— like you've said. He's got some anger management issues."

"He's just a kid," Hange comforted him. "He'll grow out of it, don't worry."

"You think he will?"

"Well, I did."

Levi raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you saying that—"

"I've been just like Eren before," she confirmed. "Too quick to anger and not knowing how to let it out. All teachers hated me," Hange chuckled. "The only one who could calm me down was Shadis."

"Shadis?" Levi's eyebrows went higher, well above his hairline. "That bald, constipated looking idiot, who teaches my son?"

"He was my teacher in high school. I guess he switched to elementary school since then. But he was quite fierce back in his days," Hange grinned. "had hair too!"

"Four-eyes, don't tell me..."

"I was young," she shrugged. "Easily impressed too."

Levi shook his head. "I can't believe you had a crush on Shadis."

Hange's eyes widened, as she saw a small smile on Levi's lips. Like that, he looked even more handsome. She quickly turned away, flustered.

"Getting back to Eren's problem," Hange kept her gaze fixated on Eren and Jean, who were climbing up the slide. "If you want, I can talk to him, give him some advice how to deal with his frustration or something."

"Thank you," Levi said softly, and, for some reason, Hange's pulse quickened. Just what was going on with her? "And, since you're such a busy person that you don't have the time to even take off your lab coat—"

"I was in a hurry!" Hange exclaimed with offended expression. Seeing a smirk on Levi's face, however, she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

"Well, if you ever need help, someone to look after Jean or something, you can always give me a call."

“Oh.” Hange’s treacherous heart skipped another beat. “It means a lot, thank you. But wouldn’t your—” she glanced down, looking at Levi’s left hand. There was nothing - not a spouse then. “Wouldn’t your partner mind?”

“My partner?” Levi frowned. “What are you talking about? Eren and I live alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” Levi sighed. “Eren’s adopted, I’ve been raising him on my own all this time, so stop fretting, you didn’t bring up bad memories or some shit.”

“Oh,” Hange wiped her forehead, relieved.

“And what about Jean’s—“ Levi made a vague gesture and paused, not knowing how to continue. “Does he have—”

“He only has me,” she smiled. “His father, um, let’s just say that he’s out of picture.”

“Oh good,” Levi breathed. A second later, he caught himself and stared at Hange with wide eyes. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! I was just—” he spurted, tripping over his words. Hange watched him with amused expression.

“I get it,” she chuckled. “Believe me, I’m glad about it too.”

“Raising the kid on your own, though…” Levi mused. “It gets hard sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Hange agreed. “But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”

“I know the feeling,” he murmured. “Sometimes I get so frustrated, so exhausted, but one smile from Eren, and I know that it’s all worth it.”

“Aww,” Hange punched his arm, grinning widely. “You’re secretly a softie!”

“Shut up,” Levi scowled. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she raised her hands, placating him. “But today’s been nice. I don’t have any friends with kids, so it’s cool to talk to someone, who understands.”

“Are you saying we’re friends, four-eyes?”

“Well,” Hange tilted her head, smiling softly at Levi. “Our children are getting along already,” she pointed at Eren, who was pushing Jean on a swing. “Why shouldn’t we be friends too?”

“Huh,” Levi shifted his gaze, staring at the two boys fondly. “Your idea… doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Yay!” Hange pulled him for a quick hug. Surprisingly, Levi didn’t even protest.

***

"So," Hange asked after she and Jean had settled on a coach in front of TV for the evening episode of Doctor Who. "Did you like hanging out with Eren?"

"It was fine. When Eren's not screaming like an idiot, he's not so bad," Jean said with a rueful grin. A second later, though, his expression changed. He looked at Hange with unusual seriousness, nervously picking at his sleeve. "Mr. Shadis wants to expel me, right? For always getting into trouble?"

"Honey," Hange wrapped her hands around him. "No one will expel you."

"Then why did you come to school today? Why did you bring me out to play with Eren?"

Damn his perception, Hange thought bitterly. She desperately tried to come up with a sound explanation.

"I came to school because I was worried that you were hurt," well, that part was true. "And we visited park with Eren and his dad, because I wanted to get to know him better."

"Eugh," Jean made a face. "You like him?"

"You don't?"

"He's weird. And his face is scary."

"It's just a facade," Hange grinned, patting Jean's hair. "He's actually very kind."

"Eren said the same thing," Jean reluctantly agreed. "I guess I'll see it for myself soon. Since you want to spend more time with him."

"I don't—" Hange tried to defend herself, but then she noticed a smirk on Jean's face. He saw right through her. She shook her head. "Let's just watch TV."

***

"Hey," Jean called when the final credits started to play. "If you start dating Eren's father, does it mean that I'll become Eren’s brother?"

"Jean!" Hange chided sternly, mustering all of her seriousness. She couldn't let her son see just how embarrassed his words made her feel. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not going to date Eren's father."

"Ah," Jean yawned. "So you're saying I still have some time to become friends with Eren. That's good."

Hange stared at him helplessly, feeling a smile tug at her lips. It was hard to deal with Jean sometimes. She still loved him more than anything.

***

"Did you like playing with Jean today?" Levi inquired, while he was tucking Eren in. "Was he—"

"He was okay. Not as much of a jerk as he usually is. By the way," Eren's lips curved into a smile and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. Levi sighed ever so slightly, this expression couldn't mean anything good. "Did you like talking with Hange?"

"It was okay," he repeated his son's words, trying to keep a straight face. Truth be told, Hange was more than just okay. Levi couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun.

"Hange is awesome!" Eren exclaimed. "Remember the science fair? She was the one who taught us how to make slime!"

Levi closed his eyes, feeling a shiver run down his spine, as he remembered that horrific thing. So that's who was to blame. He needed to come up with a way to make four-eyes pay for this.

"Hange is alright, now go to sleep, Eren."

"A-ah," Eren stubbornly shook his head. "Hange isn't just alright! I saw you smile today!" he exclaimed, pointing at Levi's lips.

"You're wrong," Levi protested instantly.

"Nope. I saw it clear as day. I turned to look at you, but you weren't looking back. You were looking at Hange," Eren teased. "And there was a smile on your face."

"It was a face spasm."

"Don't deny it, dad," Eren's bright eyes bored into him. "You like Hange. I like Hange too," he mumbled sleepily, his eyes slowly closing. "If you like her so much, I'm even ready to tolerate Jean."

"Go to sleep," Levi whispered softly. He waited for Eren to close his eyes and then leaned in, kissing him on a forehead.

Maybe, his son was right. Raising a kid was hard as hell. Maybe, he should find someone to share that burden with.

#that is the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written!#in my defense hange and levi as parents are cute af #levihan #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoe #eren yeager #jean kirstein #snk #snk levihan #rivahan

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

Text

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 4

Word Count: 8,133

POV: Jamie and then switches to reader

Warnings: Language, small amount of smut so we will say NSFW

Notes: This is hell long, I’m sorry. I don’t normally write chapter/parts this long, so don’t get used to it, because I’m sure it won’t last...haha! At any rate here we go with Part 4. As always I love your feedback, both good and bad, so hit me with it. Happy Reading! Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

Ruined Masterlist

JAMIE POV

Five days, that's how long it was until you saw (Y/N) again. Well, it was four days, sixteen hours, twenty-two minutes, and forty-two seconds, give or take a second or two. And why did you know the exact time, only because you'd been counting the hours since she left Jordie and Jessi's house. The dinner party had gone great, at least you thought it had, but then you hadn't seen her since then; not even a glimpse of her outside in the backyard or pulling into the driveway. It was maddening or maybe it was just you slowly going insane as every little noise outside had you wandering over to the window to check and see if it was her. It hadn't taken much to convince your brother to throw a dinner party on short notice, in an excuse so you could see (Y/N), but now that you had, there was just this overwhelming need to see more and more of her.

Now, here you were, just four days, sixteen hours, twenty-four minutes, and sixteen seconds from seeing her again. She was to be at the practice center at four-thirty today, so that someone, that someone being you, of course, could show her around the facility. You stood back a bit, staring at the entrance doors just waiting for her to walk in. And then she did. She looked radiant. Dressed in a simple navy pantsuit with a pair of high heels that clicked across the floor, she made her way to the front desk. Instead of rushing out to greet her, you headed back to the locker room, where you knew the receptionist would usher her back to you.

Your palms were sweating and suddenly you felt unsure of yourself. What if she was only playing nice at Jordie's and really didn't want to be around you? But that didn't explain how she'd laughed and reminisced with you about different things. That laugh, you knew it was a genuine one, for you heard it so many times in your dreams you had it memorized. God, you hoped you could make her laugh like that again today.

You could hear her heels on the floor, so you busied yourself with one of your sticks retaping the blade, even though it didn't need it. "The team captain is in there, Miss. If you need anything just let me know." You heard the door open and then turned around.

"Jamie?"

"Oh hey (Y/NN)," you tried to sound casual as if her simply being in the same room as you didn't send your heart beating into overdrive.

"I guess I didn't realize you were the team's captain."

"Yeah, have been for a few years now." Your heart sank a bit in the knowledge that she hadn't really followed your career except to know where you were, so she could avoid you.

"Well that's…," she stumbled on her words which was unusual for her and you wondered if she was as affected by you as you were by her, or if it was just her disdain for you, and that she hated to give you any amount of praise. "That's really amazing. Your coaches and team must really hold you in high regard."

"I'd like to think so." You finally abandoned the stick that didn't need taping, leaning it against the wall before turning your attention back to (Y/N). "Anyhow, I guess I'm your tour guide today." She gave a weak smile and a simple head nod, which was not encouraging to say the least. "So, how about we get started? If you want you can leave your stuff in here, no one will bother it." She'd been carrying her medical bag and a few other things, but she handed them over to you and you set them in your stall. "Well, as you can see this is our practice locker room, pretty basic. I thought we'd start with a tour of the entire place before I show you the training room."

The two of you headed down the hallway and back out to the lobby. "Obviously, you came in this way, but I'll show you the entrance you can use in the future. We're pretty much contained to this side of the building as you can see, but when practices are open, people can come and watch." You showed her the rink, from seat level, then headed back out. "This is the club lounge, if there's ever an event here where we aren't skating we use one of the boxes up there. You're more than welcome to as well."

"I have to say this is kind of elaborate for a practice rink."

"A bit."

"I was expecting metal bleachers and…well, I don't know. I feel like this is more like the arena and then a practice rink."

You chuckled, for you kind of thought the same thing, the first time you came here. Now you barely even noticed it. "Well, the boards are the same as the AAC, but other than that it's very different."

"AAC?"

"American Airlines Center," you hadn't realized you shortened the name. "Sorry about that. I think we're scheduled to tour that on Wednesday." It gave you another opportunity to be with her.

"Yes, I have that on my calendar, but was going to see if we could change that." You supposed there was your answer about her wanting to be in the same room as you. "Dr. Ellis has a patient that needs a knee arthroplasty and he asked if I'd show him the technique I've been using. Less evasive and I'm having great success with cutting the healing time by half." Oh, so it was a medical thing, whatever an arthroplasty was. "If we could push it back a bit that would be great, if not maybe we could look at another time."

"I'll work around your schedule, it's not a problem." If it meant spending more time with her you'd go to any lengths that you had to.

"Thanks, if we could maybe make for like three in the afternoon instead of noon that will give me plenty of time because I have a feeling, he'll want me to sit in on his other two surgeries he has scheduled that day."

"Not a problem." You took out your phone and made the change in your calendar. Thankfully, you didn't really have anything after practice that day but giving her the tour. "Shall we continue then?" She smiled, and it made your heart feel light. You took her to the offices next. "Down this hallway is pretty much everyone that works for the Stars; PR, accounting, our GM, our owner. You'll pretty much find them here." You stopped in front of a door and then opened it up. "This office is for you." It had a great view, well as much of a view as any of them had, but it really was a nice place for her to work.

"Umm…this won't do."

You blinked at her a couple times, there was really nothing wrong with the room. Everything in there was modern with state-of-the-art equipment. "What's wrong with it?" The words came out a little harsher than you intended but you really couldn't see her problem.

"Well for starters, we're on the what, the third floor? And I believe the locker room and training room are on the first." You gave a confused look as this was Dr. Lundin's old office and he never been concerned about it being where it was. "It's just if I'm going to be working on you…well not you, but any of you. I need to be near you. I can be at ice level during practices, but if I'm treating you, my office should be closer to the ice." Well, you couldn't really argue with that. "Also, there's no exam table in here. I get that I'll be doing most things in your training room, but there may be times when I'll need you to stop in to look over something, or what if one of you need to see me about something private."

She had a point, though none of you had ever really gone to Dr. Lundin like that. Come to think of it, he wasn't really around that much. He more or less made recommendations on where you should go if you had a problem. He wasn't necessarily the doctor to fix you. Seems like (Y/N) planned on being more hands-on, and you were ok with that. "You make a good point. Give me a second." You stepped out of the room and called the Jim Nill, the general manager. You weren't sure he was the man to go to, but you knew he'd be there in the building at least and could possibly offer a solution. It was a short phone call, as you expressed (Y/N)'s concerns. Jim was happy to help and said that he'd get someone on moving her downstairs to one of the spare rooms that housed equipment at the moment. "All set. They're going to move you down next to the training room. It might take a few days to get in the stuff you want, but if you make a list, we'll leave it at the front desk and make sure it gets taken care of."

"Thank you, Jamie. I really appreciate you doing that."

Her praise was like music to your ears, you could remember the days when you'd have a good game and she would go on and on about how well you played and you'd literally soak up every word that came out of her mouth. "No problem, guess we should head down there then." You showed her the room, which she seemed pleased with, then took her over to the training room. A couple of the trainers were still in there from practice, so you introduced her to them.

"I hate to be a pain in the ass but would any of you mind if I changed the set up here. I don't want to step on anyone's toes. I just see a few things that could make this more efficient."

"Sure, go ahead," Dave, the head trainer told her.

"So, see these units right here. They would work so much better if you had them in between the training tables. That way two guys can be on the machine at the same time."

"Oh, I see what you're saying." They went to move the equipment, it looked heavy so you helped as well. (Y/N) was opening up cabinets and taking things out, then moving them to other ones.

"Is the AAC," she looked over as you to confirm she'd said that right. "Setup like this as well."

"Pretty much," Dave told her.

"Could we make these changes there as well?" They seemed to be a bit annoyed, but she wasn't deterred. "Bear with me for a moment. Say Jamie has a cut to his eye that needs to be stitched." She looked at you to play the part.

"Ow my eye," your acting was horrible and they all laughed.

"When he comes into the room, we take him right to the nearest table, which is here." You sat down where she gestured. "It's obvious, he needs stitches, but the medical cabinet is all the way over on the other side of the room, and by the time we get there, look for what we need then come back we've waist two minutes of playing time and we don't even have a single stitch that we need in." She was making a lot of sense. "If we had our sterile supplies here, and then individually marked and put in like this." She rearranged the cabinet as she talked. "Then when Jame comes in with the cut. We can assess it and stitch him up in no time."

"Makes sense," Dave agreed. "I'll get to work on changing the AAC as well." He and the other trainer were done for the day and said their goodbyes before heading out.

"Hey Jame," you noticed she'd started using your nickname and you weren't upset about it. "Could you move this table over to here?"

"No problem."

"Is something wrong?"

Quite the opposite actually, you thought today was going pretty well. "Um, no why?"

"You're favoring your right shoulder. I saw you do it earlier."

"Oh, I think I just slept wrong on it or something." Well tossed and turned on it was more like it, as thoughts of her pervaded your mind.

"Sit." It was a command and one that you were not to argue with. She came up behind you then, her hands going on your shoulders, kneading and massaging your shoulders and for a moment it felt like heaven, just having her hands on you again. Then she pushed down hard on a particular spot and you winced. "Tender?"

"A bit."

She came around in front of you and stepped in between your legs. "This might hurt a little." Hurt? God, she was killing you at the moment, as her body was almost pressed intimately up against yours. You willed your growing erection to calmed down, but apparently, it had a mind of its own. She moved your arm in a weird position, then pressed down almost under your armpit but not quite. (Y/N) was right, it did hurt a tiny bit, and you grunted at the pain. "Sorry." She went back to kneading your muscles, while you caught the scent of her perfume, or maybe it was just her, either way, it intoxicated you. You closed your eyes inhaling deeply, willing your body under control. You'd give anything at that moment to just wrap her in your arms and press her lips to yours. Would her lips be as sweet as they once were? Would she kiss you back with the same abandonment as she had that first time so long ago? There were so many questions swirling in your head, and you wanted to know the answers, but it was too soon. If you attempted any of this now, you'd take the chance of losing her for good and it was not a risk you were willing to make. All too soon for your liking, she stepped back. "Does that feel any better?"

You rotated your shoulder and neck a few times. "Yeah, it actually feels amazing."

"Excellent," a huge satisfied grin on her face, which only made you smile back. You felt it then, a shift in the air, almost as if her heart was giving way to you in some small manner. Maybe it was just you, but there was something in the way that her eyes held yours, the way they softened as she gazed at you. You remembered that look, had only dreamt of seeing it in her eyes again but now here you were, afraid to blink for if you did it would break the spell. Her watch chimed then, like the clock striking midnight in a fairytale. "I really should be going," she told you, and just like Cinderella, she was running away only this time you knew she wouldn't get far. "So, Wednesday, then right?"

"Yeah, three o'clock."

"Ok, I'll see you then."

"Hey (Y/NN)," she turned back around. "Since we're heading downtown, why don't I just drive us both down. I'll show you the shortcut." She seemed to mull that over a bit.

"Sounds good." She made a move to leave again, only this time, she stopped herself. "Thank you for today Jame. I really appreciate you showing me around."

She called you Jame again, another step in the right direction. "Anytime, (Y/NN)." You sighed happily as she walked out of the training room. You were one step closer to winning the girl of your dreams back.

READER'S POV

What was wrong with you? You seriously needed to get ahold of yourself. That moment in the training room could not happen again. For god's sake, your watch had to chime to tell you to breathe, because you were pretty sure you'd stopped. There had been something in Jamie's eyes. Those big beautiful brown ones of his, that you could spend hours looking into. People always said the eyes were like windows into your soul, and if that were true you saw your own reflected in Jamie's. The shocking thing was, it didn't frighten you like it should. There was this small part of you that wanted to fall headfirst straight into him, but you couldn't. This time it wasn't just your reputation as being easy riding on the line. It would be your reputation as a doctor and a professional as well, and that was something you would not let him ruin.

You turned over yet again in what felt like the most enormous bed at the moment. You couldn't seem to get comfortable and sleep was evading you, as thoughts of Jamie filled your head. Every time you closed your eyes there he was, smiling as he took another bite of cake in his mouth, laughing when you least expected it. It was all quite maddening and thrilling at the same time. This time you sat up in bed. Grabbing your iPad, you opened your one guilty pleasure and started reading the romance novel you'd started on the plane here. You hadn't picked it up, since the day you saw Jamie. It would provide the perfect distraction from him.

You were about three chapters in when things started to turn a bit steamy, and as you read each line you found your hands wandering over your body. Your hands snuck up your shirt, wishing that it was our hero's gliding over your breasts the way he caressed the main characters. As the dialogue went on, you got more and more turned on, until you abandon the book for your own pleasure. Closing your eyes, you pictured the protagonist with his dark locks, kissing his way down your body. Your hands would thread into his hair, as he kissed above your panty line, before slowly shimming them down your legs. It was almost as if you could feel his warm breath against your thigh making you shiver. You let your fingers mimic his, as they slid between your folds, your pussy already wet with desire for him. He softly kisses you there then, his beard somewhat scratchy against your sensitive skin, but it was a feeling you yearned for. His long fingers would slip inside, moving in and out of you slowly at first driving you mad. Your hips flexed up, as you gave over to the fantasy, craving the faceless man's touch. You could see the muscles of his back stretch across his skin and you longed to rake your nailed down them as he thrust his cock inside you, though it was his torturous fingers driving you wild at the moment. You were close now, just teetering on the edge with the need to cum. Rubbing your clit with your other hand, you thrust your fingers in out of you in a motion that you knew would take you to the heights you sought. Only your mind told you it was his fingers, his tattooed arm, his wicked tongue that was taking you there. Eyes closing tighter, as you fully emersed yourself in the fantasy, you felt the orgasm begin to build. Your legs started to tremble and your breathing was erratic, and then it hit and you were screaming out his name. "YES…JAMIE…YES!" Your eyes flew open, at the sound of his name echoing off the bedroom walls. It was Jamie you were picturing the entire time. He was the man giving you such exquisite pleasure. The realization had you spinning and throwing the covers over your head, too bad you couldn't hide from yourself. How were you ever going to face him in a couple days?

Sleep was something that evaded you that night and the next, well not entirely you did get a few hours here and there. The only problem was Jamie seemed to creep into your dreams as well. There were ones where the two of you were laughing and joking and having the most amazing time, and ones that had you calling out his name in pleasure again as well. But the ones that got to you the most, were where he was with Caitlyn. They would be holding hands or kissing right in front of you. You'd wake up so angry that you wanted to punch something or someone, namely Caitlyn. It had you questioning why though. If you didn't have feelings for Jamie, then why were you so angry at some college girl who threw herself at him. The deeper you dug into that, the more you didn't like the answer, for it meant there was still something there between you.

Thankfully, Wednesday came and so did your teaching surgeries, which meant you had something else to think about other than Jamie Benn. It was an early morning as most days in the operating room were, so at five, you grabbed a coffee and headed to the hospital. As you suspected, Dr. Ellis had you tag along on his other three knee arthroplasties, which meant you were walking out of the OR just before noon. If you timed it right, you could grab a quick bite to eat before going over charts and then be at Jamie's before three to tour the AAC.

"I've got to say your method in that replacement was impeccable," Dr. Ellis told you as you headed down the hallway to the doctor's lounge.

"Thanks, it took a little time for me to get things right, but as I said when you take that ligament…"

"Dr. Ellis, you're needed in the ER for a consult; car versus pedestrian," the nurse told him, and immediately your heart sank. You always hated seeing these kinds of accidents come through the hospital. "It's a twelve-year-old, his leg is in bad shape. I'm not sure it can be saved."

"Dr. (Y/LN), would you join me?"

"Of course." The two of you quickened your pace as you rushed to the wounded child. "I thought you said this wasn't a trauma hospital?"

"It's not. I'm not sure how this case got here."

The moment you got to the ER, you didn't have to be directed as to where to go. Doctors and nurses rushed in and out of the room at a frenzied pace. It had honestly been a good year since you'd done any extensive trauma work, but the adrenaline came rushing back through your veins with a force of a good slap shot. When you entered the room, it was worse than you expected, you'd only seen one other case that was this bad. You rattled off a flurry of questions, to those around you, trying to assess the damage. "I think we're going to have to amputate," the chief emergency physician said.

"Only as a last resort." You looked at Dr. Ellis. "If you're willing, I'd like to try and save this child's leg, but we need to get him in the OR now."

Not even a second ticked by, before he said, "You heard her people, let's move." Everyone started rushing to get him prepped for surgery.

"I'll need your assistance," you told him as the two of you made your way back, nurses following close behind.

"Of course, anything you need."

"Oh, I need someone to call Jamie Benn." Dr. Ellis gave you a funny expression. "He was to show me around the arena today in a couple hours. I need to push that back." He nodded to the nurse who jotted down the information before the two of you went to scrub up.

The surgery was grueling, your feet hurt and your back ached from standing in the OR for over twelve hours, but it was worth it. You were able to save young Noah's leg. And while most of those that had joined you in the operating room were headed out for drinks, which they wanted you to join, you were putting back on the dress that you'd chosen this morning to wear for your tour with Jamie. Admittedly, you may have decided on it because it showed a little more cleavage than usual and that it was Jamie's favorite color, but right now you'd give anything to not have to wear it for another couple of hours as you walked around an arena trying to remember where the entrance and exit were. Though still you, glided it over your body and headed out the door.

You thought about pulling into your driveway, but decide to go straight to Jamie's instead. Your feet already hurt from standing all day, and the heels that you'd brought earlier now felt like they were twenty inches high instead of the three that they were. No point in walking extra steps from your place to his. You rang the doorbell and almost immediately Jamie answered. "You look…"

"Like hell." You finished for him as he stepped aside you let you inside his house and even through your exhaustion you realized this was the first time you were seeing the inside of his home.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Oh, well I feel like it," you added. "But anyhow, are you ready to go?" You were standing in the entranceway taking everything in, the vaulted ceilings, the winding staircase, even the glass doors were things that you'd talked about with him when you were younger. It was almost a carbon copy of your dream home that you two talked about.

"Um…well, I kind of didn't think you'd be up for it tonight."

"Oh, thank god."

He chuckled as you sagged in relief of knowing that you wouldn't have to put another ten thousand steps in. "I have an alternative if that's alright." You had no idea what he could be thinking, but anything other than a thirty to forty-minute drive downtown would be better. Just then your stomach growled, the sound seemed to fill the room and Jamie's eyebrow shot up.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten since six this morning."

"Well, then I think you're going to like my idea. Follow me." He headed into the open concept, kitchen, and living room, which was decorated all in white. "I kind of figured you'd be hungry, so I cooked us dinner. You still like salmon, right?"

"Love it." You couldn't believe that he went to all this trouble. You could see the table set perfectly, and that he had a couple pots on the stove, which smelled divine. "This is so much better than the drive-thru I was going to beg you to go to."

"Fast food, really? Come on (Y/NN) I would've sworn you'd go for pizza at least."

"I mean well, obviously, but when you're crunched on time."

"So, does this mean you're staying for dinner?" It wasn't in your original plans, but he'd gone to all this trouble, and well, you did have to eat.

"I'd love to."

"Great, I just need to get the grill going. How about a glass of wine while we wait?" You nodded, after the day you had, wine sounded perfect. "Red or white."

"A dry white since we're having fish." His walk-in wine cellar was to die for and filled from head to toe, you couldn't help sneaking a peek behind him. "I didn't realize you were a wine drinker."

He shrugged, the movement careless and carefree. "From time to time, I enjoy a glass. It's always better to share it with someone though." God, you'd said the exact words almost a hundred times. You loved your wine, but it was almost self-indulgent to just open a bottle and drink it yourself, so you rarely did it. He chose one, then came back out to the kitchen to uncork it. "I almost hate to ask, but how did the surgery go?"

"It was long, but we ended up saving Noah's leg."

"Oh my god, that's amazing."

"Well, I don't know…"

He didn't let you finish, just scooped you up in a hug. One that literally lifted you off the ground. It took your breath away not only from the shock of it but because of the way it made you feel. There were so many times you'd completed something successful in the OR only to come home to an empty house and no one to share it with, sure you had your family to call, who were always thrilled, but this, this was different. It was someone sharing in your joy and happiness, and you could feel it in the way that he held you that he was just as excited as you were. All too soon he put you down as if he realized he'd overstepped his bounds. "Sorry," Jamie told you taking a step back, yet still wearing a huge grin. "But you freaking saved a kid's leg. Like who does that." Again, he didn't give you time to answer. "You're truly amazing, (Y/N)."

A blush rose to your cheeks at his compliments or maybe it was from the way he held you and you longed to feel his arms back around you. Either way, the room suddenly got a bit warm. "Thank you."

He poured you both a glass of wine, then lifted his. "To the most amazing doctor. Dallas is lucky to have you." You clinked your glass with his then took a sip of the crisp chardonnay.

"This is good," you sighed as you took another drink. "Would it be terribly rude of me, if I took these shoes off? My feet are killing me."

"God no, make yourself at home," he chuckled.

"What I should really do is run home and change into some sweats. If only my feet didn't hurt so bad."

"You can wear mine."

"Oh no, I couldn't." Because really, you couldn't wear his sweats, that would just be going too far.

"Please, you used to do it all the time." Ok well, he had you there. "I think you had more of my sweatshirts than I did at one point."

"Hey, I couldn't help it, they were just so….cozy." He laughed again and you found yourself joining in.

"Well, you're more than welcome to steal some. It's not like I don't have a ton from the organization. Which reminds me, I'll make sure they send you over some stuff."

"Oh, that would be nice."

"Until then just go put mine on. You know you'll be more comfortable." He was right, but it felt a little awkward and you hoped he wouldn't read into it.

"You're sure?" He gave you that look, the one that told you if you didn't get your ass into his sweats, he might kick it, and you had to laugh. "Ok, ok." It kind of felt like old times, only without all the bad stuff that happened, and god help you; you liked it.

"Upstairs go to the left. They are in my closet on the right-hand side. Bottoms are in the third drawer and the sweatshirts are hanging up. I'm going to go throw the salmon on."

He headed out to the grill, and you made your way upstairs. The bedroom had pristine white walls, like the majority of the house. A massive four-poster king-size bed was done in shades of gray; it reminded of you the bed you shared long ago once. You shook yourself, as memories of that first time with Jamie came flooding back. There was no point in dwelling on that; you told yourself as you made your way into the huge walk-in closet. It was neatly arranged and you had to wonder if it was Jamie being meticulous or if he had a housekeeper that did all this for him. A shelf on the left side caught your eye. There were photos there nestled with his colognes. A picture of when he was drafted sat there, along with one from when he won his gold medal playing for Team Canada. At that moment, you realized you'd missed so much of his life. All these major life-changing events, that had things gone differently, you would've been part of, or at least you told yourself you would've. You sighed, feeling a heaviness in your chest that you didn't want to explore at the moment.

Turning to the right, you went to grab the sweats like you were supposed to instead of digging around in Jamie's closet. You found them easily then moved down to grab a sweatshirt off the rack. You didn't really pay too much attention, just grabbed a Stars hoodie then started to head toward the bathroom to change. Again, photos caught your eye. These more personal. There was one of him with his mom and dad, that brought a smile to your face. You'd always loved his parents. Another was him with Jordie and Jenny, and still another with just him and Jenny's daughter. It was the one next to that, that made your breath hitch and your heart beat faster. It was a picture of the two of you, one of your favorites from Canada Day. You'd been out at the lake house with his family, and someone had candidly captured the two of you just staring happily into each other's eyes, a smile playing across both your faces. You remembered the moment like it was yesterday. That he would still have this picture was just….well, it was a lot to digest. You'd burned yours in a moment of anger weeks after what had happened, but Jamie, well apparently he kept his and still had it on display. What did this mean? Did he still have feelings for you? Did he still love you? Moreover, how did you feel about him now, after all this time? There were so many questions in your head, it was making you dizzy.

You rushed into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on your face. Part of you wanted to run the two houses down to your home and lock the door behind you, but that would solve nothing. So instead, you inhaled deeply, getting control of your emotions just as you would before you entered the operating room. There was nothing between you and Jamie anymore, the two of you were just…well, you were trying to be friends, that's all this was. You quickly changed into his clothes, throwing your dress across the huge soaking tub, then you plopped your hair on top of your head in a messy bun. It was only then that you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a reflection of your teenage self, the one that loved Jamie with her whole heart, but you weren't that girl. You were older and wiser, and you were not about to let your heart get trampled on by one Jamie Benn again. Squaring your shoulders, you headed back downstairs, where you'd pretend as if you hadn't seen the picture of the two of you that set your heart aflutter.

When you entered the kitchen, Jamie's jaw dropped and you knew he was seeing that same version of your teenage self that you saw moments ago, though he recovered quickly. "You look more…comfortable."

"I am. Thanks again for letting me borrow these." You decided to not mention, how they made you look, or feel for that matter. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I've got it pretty much under control. Just prop up your feet, it'll be ready in a few."

"It smells delicious."

"Thanks."

"When did you learn how to cook? Because from what I remember, you could barely boil water." It was true, he was never that great in the kitchen, but from the aroma, his skills had definitely improved.

"Well, when you're on your own as long as I've been, you learn quick." He finished mixing, what looked like some sort of sauce before drizzling it over the asparagus that he'd broiled. "Besides, I can't burn off a large pizza the way I used. If I indulged in that every night, I'd have even more of a dad bod than I do now."

"Oh stop, you do not have a dad bod. Trust me I've seen plenty of those and you're not it." With his toned arms and legs, he seemed more in shape than when he was sixteen years old. Well at least more defined. In fact, just looking at his thighs brought all sorts of wild fantasies to your mind. Oh my god, you needed to stop thinking of Jamie like this or there was going to be another sleepless night in your future.

"Thanks," he answered back to your compliment. "Though I will never live down the nickname Chubbs."

You laughed, like full-on belly laugh. "Oh my god, tell me that did not follow you around."

"With Jordie on the same team," he said while rolling his eyes and joining in your laughter. "Of course, it did. It's fine though, actually, it'd be weird if people didn't call me that."

"I'll have to remember that, Chubbs." He raised his eyebrow at you before stepping out to grab the salmon. This really was nice, the two of you just laughing and joking, maybe you could be friends after all.

"Your dinner, madam," he said as he placed what looked like something out of a five-star restaurant in front of you, before sitting down in the chair beside you.

"Wow, this looks amazing."

"Well, it's not the celebration dinner you deserve for saving a kid's leg, but it will have to do." He raised his glass again towards you. "To an amazing doctor." He needed to stop making these toasts to you, as they made you blush every time.

The conversation at dinner flowed easily, like two old friends who hadn't seen each other in ages, instead of two exes. You reminisced about old times and caught up on gossip from back home. It was all really refreshing, and you realized that you'd worried about moving to Dallas for no reason at all. You helped him clean up the dishes, then you both moved into the living room to finish up the bottle of wine. "I was thinking," Jamie told you. "I drew out the AAC a bit, that way if you're schedule gets too packed, you'd have somewhat of a map to get you around."

There he went again, being all kind and sweet. A complete contrast to the man that you'd hated for the past fourteen years. "That's really nice of you. Let's have a look." He laid it out on the table and started to explain what parking garage to use and where that entrance would put you once you were inside. He was about midway through when the knot in your neck from surgery today, decided to stiffen a bit. You tilted your head to the right, then to the left; in an attempt to work it out.

"Little stiff?"

"Yeah, sometimes long hours in the OR, make my neck not want to hold my head up anymore."

He chuckled then moved back against the side of the couch so that he could rub your shoulders. "Here let me."

"You know, I'm supposed to be the one helping you out, not the other way around."

"Yeah, well humor me." You turned, giving him your back. His hands were gentle as they kneaded the muscles there and you had to admit it felt really good. You could feel yourself relaxing back against him. "Scoot up for a second." You did as he asked and then he swung his one leg up so that you were now seated in between his legs, then he went back to working on your muscles. "Better?"

"Mmm," you sighed out and let your eyes drift shut. It had been a long time since anyone had taken care of you the way that Jamie had tonight; cooking you dinner first and now this. He gently nudged you back against him, as your body grew heavy. Slowly, you drifted off to sleep. What you didn't know, was how Jamie settled you fully against his body, then grabbed the blanket that was strewn across the back of the couch to cover you up. Nor did you know how he pressed a kiss to your head, as his arms slid around your waist. He knew that he should probably wake you up, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to hold you in his arms even if it was for just a little bit. Jamie told himself that he'd just lay with you here for a little bit, let you rest for just a few minutes, but what he didn't plan on was falling asleep with you.

You weren't sure what woke you, maybe it was the light snoring in your ear, but you found it hard to rouse yourself out of slumber. You were just too comfortable, too cozy, too content, to want to wake up. There was just this safe and secure feeling that you had that just kept lulling you back to sleep. But slowly, you came alive. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out where you were. This wasn't anything new, when you were an intern, you'd wake up all over the hospital depending upon where you fell asleep, and moving to Dallas you still weren't used to your new home, but nothing here looked at all familiar. It was then that you noticed, someone's arms around your midsection, and that you were sleeping on said person's chest. A light bulb went off in your head, and you realized that person was Jamie. Obviously, you'd fallen asleep at some point, you just didn't know why Jamie hadn't woken you up. Instead, he chose to fall asleep as well.

You should be in a panic, but for some reason, your not. It just all feels so…right. Only it shouldn't feel that way at all. You shouldn't want his arms wrapped around you like they are, and you shouldn't like the gentle rise and fall of his chest as you lay against him, and you definitely shouldn't have your fingers interlaced with his, but you do. You actually could stay like this…well if you're being honest…forever, and that scares the living hell out of you. It's then you decide you have to get out there and you start to untangle your limbs from him. The movement waking Jamie. "Mmhmm," he hums sleepily and for some reason, your heart flutters at the sound. His hands tighten around your waist and you don't cringe like you should, but if you stay here any longer, you don't know what will happen.

"Jamie," you whisper. "Jame."

His eyes peek open as you turn and look at him. There's a slow smile that comes to his lips, that just sends heat to your core. Fuck, you need to get out of here. Then realization dawns on him, "Oh shit, I must have fallen asleep." He's scrambling now and so are you. "I'm sorry….I only meant to let you sleep for a bit." Oh, so he didn't mean to hold you all night and make you feel cherished? Why does your heart sink at that knowledge?

"It's ok, but I should really be going." You're a little stiff as you get up off the couch and look around the kitchen for your purse, noticing that it's five in the morning. "I need to get ready for rounds at the hospital."

His hands go to the back of his neck, then comes around the rake down the front of his face. "I'm really sorry…"

"Jamie, it's fine. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep on you like that." You slip back into your heels then head towards the front door. "Thank you again for dinner."

"Anytime," he mumbles and there's this look of confusion on his face. You can't decide if it's about waking up with you in his arms or if he's still not fully awake yet, but you're not going to ask, as you open the door and slip out. "Hey (Y/NN)." You turn back around the minute you hear his voice. "I'll call you," he tells you, and damnit if your heart isn't beating faster again, like your fifteen and the prospect of this hot hockey player calling you is just doing weird things to your insides that medical science can't explain. "About rescheduling the tour."

"Right, the tour," you muttered and suddenly, it's not as romantic as it all seemed a moment ago. "Yeah, we definitely need to do that. Thanks again." You shut the car door so fast and drive the two houses down, which looks completely stupid, as Jamie stands on his front porch watching you, making sure you get inside ok.

What the hell just happened? It's the only question you can think of as you drag yourself up to the ensuite in your bedroom, so you can wash your face. You grab a cloth and turn the water on, your mind trying to digest the last ten minutes. You just spent the night with Jamie Benn, and you're not mad about it. You're not mad about it at all and that's frightening. A week ago, you didn't want to be in the same room with him for five minutes. Now, you were laughing over dinner and falling asleep in his arms. Jesus, what were you thinking? You look up at yourself in the mirror and all you can see is his damn hoodie and sweats on you. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but instead, all you can do is smell him. He's on your clothes, well of course he is, they're his, you idiot. You swear when you pull your hair all the way down from its even messier bun that your hair smells of him too. And when you close your eyes you can feel him; his arms wrapped around you holding you close, and damn if you don't want that again.

"NO," you yell out to yourself in the mirror. "No, no, no." He's not good for you. He'll break your heart. Your mind knows all these things and still, your heart is trying to open the door and let him in. This can't happen, you need a plan. No, what you need is someone to remind you how he broke your heart.

You pick up your phone and dial your best friend, Emma. She'd been with you through the whole breakup with Jamie and remained by your side through every dumb mistake you made afterward. Emma had even moved to the east coast, when you went to John Hopkins, though she'd met the love of her life there and was now engaged. You knew it was early, but you also knew that your best friend would answer the phone if it was you who was calling. "Hello, sunshine," she answered all cheerful and it only put you in a fouler mood.

"Really? How are you this happy in the morning?"

"You know I've always been a morning person. Now, please tell me what happened with Jamie."

"How do you know something happened with him?" It was truly baffling how she could just read you like an open book.

"Why else would you call me at six-thirty in the morning? Tell me he's not breaking your heart already?"

"It's worse." You pause trying to figure out the best way to tell her. "I think I'm falling for him again."

"Get out!" She shouted at you through the telephone. "It's been like what ten days?"

"God, when you put it like that, it sounds insane."

"It's not insane (Y/N)." At least Emma didn't think you were crazy for possibly falling back in love with Jamie. "You two have history, like big-time history, and that just doesn't go away overnight. The question is what do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know, Em." It was true, you were so conflicted about whether you should just shut Jamie out completely, or open your heart just one more time. You were hoping your best friend could shed some light on the situation.

"Well, then I think I have your solution." You waited patiently for her to tell you what it was. "You know what they say, in order to get over someone, you need to get under someone." Had you heard her right, did she really just tell you to go out and have sex with someone random?

#Jamie Benn #Jamie Benn imagine #Jamie Benn imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #Dallas stars #Dallas stars imagines #Dallas stars imagine

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years ago

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Dog of the Military- Chapter 15

Chapter 15- Morning Courtmartial

And as usual... the ko-fi link, if you like the trash I, a human dumpster fire, product https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

Roy Mustang showed up outside the dorms at 8:30am sharp. It was 8:37 when Edward came racing down the stairs, in his military blues with a large suit of armor clanking hurriedly behind him.

Ed fairly dove into the passenger seat, with Alphonse squeezing into the entirety of the backseat, and Ed turned to look at Mustang like he was possessed. "Drive!"

"Put your seat belt on." Roy said, giving him a look.

Ed frantically did so, and Roy was heading over to central command.

"Shit are we gonna be late? I couldn't find a hair tie that wasn't red I didn't know what the military regulations were so I transmuted it black." Ed's hair wasn't in its trademark braid- rather, it was in a high ponytail behind him. His uniform was a little rumpled, and his collar was a mess, but these were all things that could be fixed.

"Calm down. We're not going to be late, but we won't be able to stop and grab breakfast like I planned either, so you'll have to hold out til lunch." Roy remarked.

Ed nodded, seeming to calm down slightly at this.

"Are you doing okay?" Roy shot his youngest subordinate a look.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ed said, nodding. Though there wasn't too much belief behind the statement.

"I'm going to be so nervous, waiting upstairs in the office to hear what's going on." Al piped up from the back.

"Try not to worry too much, Alphonse- the team will be watching the proceedings, and they'll come upstairs periodically under the guise of a break to update you."

"Alright." Alphonse seemed to settle for the moment. Edward's leg kept bouncing nervously, and they pulled up outside central command at ten minutes to nine. They parted ways, with Alphonse heading upstairs and Roy and Ed heading towards the courtroom, deeper on the first floor of Central command.

The hallways were busy with people in all sorts of military blues- Ed's eyes widened as he saw everyone assembled. Roy placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, steering him into the men's room just outside the courtroom.

"Do you have to go?" he asked, giving the boy a once-over.

Ed shook his head. "No. Why are we in here, anyways?"

"Because you were getting overwhelmed and I need to touch up your uniform." Roy said calmly. He started with the boy's long military jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening the boy's rank pins. He moved up to Ed's collar next, folding it down properly, before looking at Ed's hair- he wet his hands in the sink and smoothed down Ed's trademark blond antenna, before nodding and standing up straight. "Much better. You look like quite the solider, Fullmetal."

"Yeah. Now if only I could feel like one. Brigadier General Basque Grand was out there." Ed muttered to himself, looking down at his boots.

"A lot of high profile people are here, Ed. This trial has ruffled some feathers, I'm not gonna lie. But how you carry yourself in there- how you think and behave- will affect how you're treated."

"They'll just look at me like a kid anyways."

"Stop it." Mustang hissed, using two fingers to tilt Edward's chin up so the boy was looking him in the eyes. "I know you're nervous, and you have a right to be, but self pity and doubt have no place here, Edward."

Roy reached down into Edward's pocked, putting out the boy's state alchemist watch and dangling it in front of him. "You are the Fullmetal Alchemist. I watched you put blood sweat and tears into earning this watch. You are a prodigy- you have seen atrocities and come back eager to live on anyways. You are a soldier under my command. I didn't give you this watch. You earned it. You could kick the asses of nearly everyone in that court room, save myself and a few others, without a problem. So you act like it- you look them in the eyes and you tell them everything. I need you to trust me, Edward- if you testify to the best of your abilities, he'll be found guilty. I promise."

Ed looked up at him- eyes that were swimming with uncertainty becoming hard with determination and purpose. The fire was burning bright again, and Ed pursed his lips and nodded. "Alright."

"Don't forget- you're the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People. Make them remember that."

"I will."

They both turned, exiting the restroom and striding into the courtroom, down the aisles and to their side of the benches. Their court appointed lawyer, Marissa Jennings, was a pretty woman in military blues with dark hair and brown eyes- she nodded to Mustang as they found their seats behind their table. Ed hadn't met the woman, but Roy had had countless meeting with her over the past two weeks to prepare, and he was very familiar with her.

On the other side of the courtroom, behind the small table sat Colonel Banks and Lieutenant Shaw, and the defendant's lawyer, an older, be speckled man in his sixties eith salt and pepper hair and a gray goatee.

Before both tables was the Judge's desk on an elevated platform, and to the left was the bleachers for the jury- a group of about twelve. Behind the tables where the prosecuting and defending parties sat, there was a small wooden railing and benches for spectators to watch.

Roy noted Basque Grand sitting behind Colonel Bank's side of the courtroom, as well as a smattering of unfamiliar soldiers. Banks had clearly brought his men as well.

But it was no match for Ed's side of the courtroom. Havoc, Breda, Falman, Furey, Hawkeye, Scheska, Hughes, Armstrong, and several of the receptionists that Ed would help by fixing broken vases and flower pots all sat at the ready. The proceedings were about to being.

The door to the courtroom flew open, and Roy nearly fell out of his chair. Scowling in the doorway, General Olivier Armstrong strode into the room,her sidearm and sword at her side, with Miles beside her, his sunglasses present as always.

She stalked into the room, and it nearly fell silent, before flopping to sit beside her brother, who sat in support of Edward, exhaling harshly through her nose.

"Olivier- so glad you could make it! You hardly ever respond to my letters." Armstrong had started to sparkle.

Olivier scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I came here because I was pissed, not because of that sappy letter. This whole torture fiasco happened at Goldenfield- the North is my territory, and when bullshit happens I like to see who's held accountable." She brushed her bangs from her face. Though Roy didn't miss the way she craned her neck to get a look at Edward.

Who knew- perhaps General Armstrong actually cared?

"All rise- the honorable judge Mason Freeman presiding." the baliff barked. The sound of chairs scraping as everyone in the room hurried to stand was the only sound.

The judge- a rather wise looking man in his sixties- strode to his desk with ease, before he was sitting down. "Good morning. At ease, everyone. Let it be noted on the record today the case of Flame vs Banks has begun."

Everyone sat down, and the judge nodded toward Ed's bench.

"We will begin with the charges brought against the accused. Colonel Roger Banks, you have been accused of the unlawful imprisonment and torture of a state alchemist, Major Edward Elric. How does the accused plead?"

"Not guilty, Sir."

The judge nodded. "Very well. We will hear your arguments shortly. For now, let us proceed with the incident reports received, beginning with the mission report from the Fullmetal Alchemist himself. Jennings?"

The woman representing Ed stood up, shuffling papers. "Of course, your honor. On the fifth of September, Major Edward Elric received orders to head north and conduct a covert mission for the Amestrian military. He returned on the morning of September ninth, as planned, but rather than being allowed to return to Central city and report to his commanding officer, the boy was detained, restrained, beaten, and abused. The medical records show Edward received six cigarette burns to the lower left abdomen, a broken rib, a 3 inch laceration on his left bicep requiring 17 stitches, 3 lacerations on his back, from a knife, one of which required an additional twelve stitches to close, a black eye, and severe contusions to the chest. His mistreatment lasted for a day and a half, at which point his superior arrived, discovered the Major's condition, and got the boy medical help. I will now read, verbatim, the mission reports submitted to the court by Edward Elric and Roy Mustang, followed by the Doctor's report regarding Ed's injuries."

The first hour of the court session was the lawyer reading Ed's mission report, then Mustangs, and continuing on with the doctor's report. Ed was rather relieved that he could just sit and listen. It was clear the woman representing them was more comfortable in a courtroom than he was.

"This concludes my report of evidence from the prosecution, your honor." the woman finished.

The judge nodded. "And does the defendant have any evidence which they wish to present?"

The elder lawyer stood. "Yes, Sir. I am presenting the reports of Colonel Roger Banks and Lieutenant Shaw, verbatim."

"The secret mission Edward Elric was sent on was of immense importance for national security. Following our rendezvous, Edward expressed his interest in returning to Central city as soon as possible. I agreed this was the best course of action, but as the boy's superior, righteously demanded that he give his report and findings to me before leaving. Fullmetal adamantly refused, and when repeatedly prompted, answered with blatant disrespect. Had it been a matter of lesser importance, I would've written the boy up and let him go. But due to the immensely sensitive information the boy had, I felt I could not let him leave without reporting to me. It wasn't in the best interests of the nation."

"Following his staunch refusal and obstinence, I disciplined the boy physically, and continued to do so. I am not a man without conscience, but I had to put the good of the nation over the good of one unruly boy. I was nearly to the point of extracting the information when the boy's commanding officer- who identified himself as the Flame Alchemist- trespassed in my office and intimidated my Lieutenant into taking him to see the boy."

"When I attempted to confront the man for his intrusion into my office and blatant disregard for my command, I was brutally assaulted, receiving first degree burns on my hand, and my life threatened if I refused to leave. By the time I felt it prudent to return, the Flame Alchemist and the Fullmetal Alchemist were gone."

Roy frowned at the report.

The lawyer paused, clearing his throat. "Now- onto the incident report of Lieutenant Margaret Shaw, dated October twentieth-"

Roy's hand touched the table the defense lawyer had her paper's spread out, and he shifted in his seat to sit forward a little.

"Objection!" The lawyer was cut off by their lawyer, and everyone looked over at him, even the judge.

"What is the nature of this objection, Jennings?"

"Mr. Elric was reported to have been scheduled to return from his mission on the ninth of October. His commanding officer retrieved him on the afternoon of the tenth of october. The fact that this report was filed so late is likely due to the fact that Lieutenant Shaw wouldn't have filed a report about the imprisonment and abuse of power at all, had it not been for her commanding officer receiving a summons for court martial a few days earlier and covering her tracks."

"This is all speculation, your honor." the elderly defense lawyer protested, moving his glasses further up his nose.

"Jennings, you may continue, but keep it short." the judge advised, looking interested.

"I'd like to know the date Colonel Banks filed his incident report." Jennings asked.

The defense lawyer shuffled his papers. "October nineteenth was the date Colonel Banks filed his report."

"Interesting. So this alleged abuse of power occurs from the ninth to tenth of October, Colonel Banks is assaulted so viciously by the Flame alchemist in the line of duty, and yet despite all of this, he waits nine days to file a report. And his subordinate, who also witnessed such abuse, files her report one day after. Despite the fact that officers are required to file reports of incidents within forty eight hours. It almost seems as though the defendants were scrambling and after receiving their court summons, sat down and put their story together to avoid any gaps and inconsistencies, and then submitted them a day apart."

"My report is my own, Ma'am. While it is true that Colonel Banks and I discussed the matter after receiving our summons, my report was filed directly to central- Colonel Banks never read it." Lieutenant Shaw spoke up.

"I can attest to this, as I notarized the document." the lawyer agreed.

"I see. Still, the timing is awfully convenient. That's all I have to say on the matter, your honor."

The judge nodded. "The defense may continue."

Lieutenant Shaw's report was read verbatim, as well. It didn't contain the blatant falsehoods Colonel Banks had- rather, Shaw had chosen to stick to facts.

"At approximately 9am Edward Elric returned to our fort and expressed a desire to go home after completing his mission. He proceeded to another room with Colonel Banks and I didn't see him afterwards. At approximately 10am, I received a call from the boy's commanding officer, inquiring if Edward had returned as planned. I confirmed that Edward Elric had indeed returned and that he intended to get a train out of central soon."

"In the afternoon, at approximately 1pm, Colonel Banks was stepping out for lunch. I still had not seen Major Elric and inquired if he'd purchased his train ticket home yet, as he seemed eager to do in the morning. Colonel Banks said the boy was resting upstairs before he left, tired from his mission. I noticed the Colonel carrying Elric's black coat and inquired why- he told me he was going to get it cleaned for the boy so he could travel home in comfort."

"At the end of the day, I still had not seen Edward. I stepped into the Colonel's office to say goodnight to my commanding officer, and found him sititng at his desk. On his desk, was Elric's coat, cut into scraps. I asked the Colonel if Edward had left yet. Colonel Banks confirmed my suspicions that Edward was still in the building, but said it was a matter of national security that he get the information from the boy. I was in no position to argue with my superior, so I quietly left. On a hunch, I went downstairs to the cells where unruly citizens are kept and found Major Elric hung from the wall by his wrists, dirty and in some degree of pain. He looked up at me and asked if I was there to burn him as well. I asked him how I could help- he asked me for water. I brought him a mug of it and gave it to him quickly before leaving for the night. I trusted my commanding officer to handle the issue."

"Colonel Banks instructed me to have all questions about the Fullmetal Alchemist's condition forwarded to him. I followed these orders, forwarding the phone inquiry of the Flame Alchemist to Colonel Banks early in the morning. That afternoon, however, when the Flame Alchemist arrived, he was quite agitated, and I thought it prudent to show him to Elric immediately to avoid further conflict. Colonel Banks went to speak to the man and returned with a burned hand a destroyed firearm. After I treated my commanding officer for his injuries, I took the suitcase Elric had left in our fort in the room he'd stayed in previously and dropped it off at the local inn on the hunch they were staying there."

Colonel Banks looked over at Margaret, a bit of disapproval behind his eyes, but not much of it.

"Your honor." Jennings, dark haired and bold as always, spoke up. "I would like to ask Lieutenant Shaw a few more questions."

"In due time, Jennings." the judge frowned, squinting at the courtroom clock. "It's nearly noon. I declare a half hour recess, and then we will reconvene for cross-examination of the involved parties. Adjourned." the judge slammed his gavel down, and the courtroom broke into a flurry of activity as everyone rose to grab lunch.

Team Mustang normally would've gathered in the cafeteria, but since Alphonse was stuck upstairs in the office, they elected to grab food and eat with him. Plus, seeing Ed was likely to ease his mind.

Ed grabbed a ham sandwich as they hurried upstairs.

"Nice job Chief!" Havoc clapped a hand on his shoulder as he sat on Mustang's couch and started to eat. "I don't think I've ever seen you sit still for that long before!"

Ed had to fight the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"How was it, brother? Are you alright?" Al asked.

Ed took a bite of his sandwich. "I'm fine. I didn't have to do much of anything, it was mostly lawyers reading reports and making statements."

"Still, you seem to be making quite the case. The lawyer representing you- Jennings- is on her game." Hawkeye spoke up.

"Yes, she certainly is." Roy conceded. Probably because he'd spent over six hours with her going over the particulars of the case this past week. But still, she was tenacious and on the ball, and Roy liked her.

The door to the office burst open, and Hughes came running in. "Ed! You did great out there! Were you nervous?"

"A little." Ed took another bite of his sandwich and chewed.

"Right." the light reflected off Hughes glasses, showing his seriousness, as he stepped forward. "Well, this afternoon they're going to do the cross examinations. So you'll have to go up on the witness stand and answer questions about your report. Everyone will be watching. So you're going to need to have nerves of steel and think on your feet. They'll do anything they can to make you slip up."

"R-right." Ed was looking nervous.

"I figured you'd be stressed, so I brought some pictures of my darling Elicia to help calm your nerves!" Roy was right back to his fawning father self, pulling out a rather large stack of photos. "Here she is in her footie pajamas, and here she is with her new teddy bear..."

Hawkeye exchanged glances with Roy. They let Hughes ramble on for a few more minutes before Hawkeye was shooing him out of the office.

"You should finish that sandwich up- we have to head back down soon." Roy nodded to Ed, looking at the clock.

"I'm done." Ed said simply, setting down the half-eaten sandwich and standing. Ed hardly ate anything- that meant he was nervous.

Roy placed a hand on his shoulder as they ducked out of the office and headed back towards the courtroom. No matter what was to come in cross examinations- he'd do his best to protect Ed.

#fma #fma fanfiction #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #Roy Mustang #edward elric #Parental Roy #parentalroy #whumph #whump #hurt/comfort #hurt #comfort #dogofthemilitary #injury

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