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sourholland · 3 years ago

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Glamorous || Tom Holland

Part Seven

| Series Masterlist |

Summary → In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

AN → I am so sorry for how long this took to get out, I am so upset about the wait. I hope you guys aren’t toooo mad. Writing this chapter, I listened to a lot of Taylor Swift. I recommend Illicit Affairs, Better Man (Taylor’s Version), All Too Well (Taylor’s Version), and Dear John.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → Language, Infidelity

Word Count → 2.7k

January, 1983 - This isn’t what love is

“I mean, he makes me feel bad for being who I am,” you sobbed into the receiver of the telephone. “Your soulmate isn’t supposed to make you feel like that, right?”

Dressed to the nines in a blue satin gown, you paced your Halifax hotel room whilst on the phone with Helen. In less than ten minutes you’d go downstairs with Tom to attend an official dinner hosted by the Prime Minister of Canada.

“Do calm down, darling,” she told you through the receiver. “I hate that you are feeling this way so often now.”

“Nellie, I think there’s something wrong with me, I think I might really be going mad.”

In the few short months since Henry was born, you had fallen into absolute agony. Constant parties and political affairs, you were staying home and disregarding everyone but your son. They wished for you to leave him constantly, traveling all of the time with no way to see him. It would not happen, though. The only reason you were in attendance of the Canadian dinner party was because Tom agreed to have you back in Kensington Palace the next day.

“You’re going to be fine, Y/N.”

This was what they always said, or that you truly were going mad. This was what his mother called you in secret, you knew it as well as the rest of the family.

A man came to your door and told you the Prince would be to fetch you in a moment. Bidding a quick farewell to your sister, you walked to the mirror and attempted to wipe your tears. The reflection before you was someone you couldn’t even recognize anymore. There were deep indigo crescents underneath your eyes, covered by makeup. The weight you’d lost from stress was noticeable, though.

Tom came in, adjusting his cufflinks and immediately sighing when he saw you in shambles. He didn’t understand, he wouldn’t ever understand.

“What is it?” He snapped, “why’re you crying?”

“I miss the baby,” you sniffled, meeting his eyes.

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me, that doesn’t mean I cannot miss my son.”

He bit back a snide remark and held an arm out to you, touch cold as ice—much like his heart lately. When Henry was just born, there was a short and brief period of bliss, and then you had become too emotional and overly maternal. He loved his child more than anything, you weren’t sure it was true to say the same about how he felt about yourself.

The short walk to the grand staircase was silent, reaching the top you felt the immediate presence of everyone. Cameras flashed, people chatted, both you and Tom smiled to convey false happiness. He gave you a look, seemingly to tell you to keep yourself together. The tiara atop your head seemingly weighed an extra ten pounds.

For hours you spoke to many high ranking officials, letting them dote upon you and speaking fondly of the man you love. There were many uncomfortable comments made about how well you’d lost all of the baby weight, and the way your figure had returned to normal. This only made you want to cry more, the idea of all of these older men staring at your body and judging whether or not you looked well enough to them.

Tom spoke admiringly to many people, acting as if what you were in was a healthy marriage. He told them that he was enjoying married life tremendously, and that a baby was exactly what he wanted for your growing family.

“I’ll tell you, she’s gorgeous—I mean really!” A man, probably older than his father told Tom as he gazed at you. “I can only imagine how you feel.”

This made Tom slightly uneasy, but he couldn’t do much other than thank the man. It left him to wonder how you were truly being seen. Many were fawning over you, the press surrounded you no matter where you went. Even when it was both you and Tom, everyone preferred you to him. This made him jealous, the feeling of inferiority.

He kissed you chastely, both of you a bit tipsy off champagne and needing something the other couldn’t give. The hotel suite was cold, his embrace warm.

“I want you,” he murmured into your hair.

Does he? Or is he settling while she’s not here?

Threading a hand through his hair, you felt the tears begin to fall. He didn’t notice, stepping back when he realized you were crying. His lips were swollen, cheeks flushed with desire. He was so beautiful, you loved him.

“What’s wrong, love?” He sighed.

“Tell me I’ve got it wrong,” you stifled out. “I just feel so disposable to you, Tommy.”

He’s so much more mature, so much older. This was like your own personal living hell, watching life pass you by in silence. It was clear this wasn’t love, or was it? No matter what you offered him, it was never good enough.

“I love you,” you told him candidly. “Can you say the same?”

“Sure, yes.”

Sure. It was as if the moment had stopped, the clock finally ceased ticking. With those two words, you wiped the tears collecting at your cheeks and walked barefooted out of the bedroom.

February, 1983 - Clandestine meetings and stolen stares

It was a letter you’d never let see the light of day, one that would set the press absolutely wild. It was from Sam, addressed to you discreetly and handed to you personally with directions not to show it to anyone.

Dear Y/N,

I’m writing to you to say that I’ve met someone mum and father approve of beyond measure. They’re very pleased, and I truly do like her a lot. However, I needed you to know my feelings for you before I move forward.

Y/N, I have loved you since the moment I met you and I say this without hesitation. I’ve tried to let it go, and I’ve tried to suppress it, but I fear I cannot let another person into my heart without first telling you how I feel. And I know you love my brother, he is your husband and that is that. This does not mean that I cannot tell you how much more you deserve, and I do not mean myself. I mean normalcy, nothing of princes and princesses.

Could these words potentially put me into exile within my own family? Perhaps. I could not go on in silence, though. I adore you, I will always adore you. This is most likely a selfish decision on my own part, but without telling you, I fear I would not be able to give myself away in entirety.

I ask that this is all of the matter, and you keep these confessions close to your chest. With this, I’d also like to inform you of the talk making its way through the family. They have been calling you mad, Y/N. Do not let my brother’s insolence destroy your mental.

I hope this will not change your feelings for me, as a brother-in-law and friend. I hope that you’ll meet this new woman in my life as well, her name is Elizabeth. I know she’s adored you for a while, but I think you’d like her. I think she may be the woman I marry.

With love,

Sam

Apart of you wished you’d met Sam instead of Tom that night so long ago. Maybe then you’d have fallen for him, maybe then you’d have really enjoyed that fairytale wedding.

Tears escaped viciously, rubbing at your eyes and cradling the letter. You know he isn’t in love with you, you know he’ll find a woman and live and die for her because he is Sam, sweet and selfless Sam who loves wholeheartedly and with every part of himself.

And you’ll watch, wishing you could’ve fallen for the right man.

Early March, 1983 - I am a mother before I am the Princess of Wales

“Has it not occurred to you that this is a serious overturn of protocol?” One of the many royal advisors asked as you finished packing Henry’s toys.

“I have told you, I have told my husband, for God’s sake I’ve even told the Queen! I am not going on this tour without my son, I refuse! Now, we leave in less than twelve hours, is it really so dire that I am continually berated about the choices I make as the mother to the future of this establishment?”

This was the last time anyone pushed you to change your decision to take Henry with you to Australia and New Zealand. It was horrible enough that for a portion of the tour, he’d be in New South Wales with a nanny to watch over him whilst his parents were whisked away. It was six weeks of back to back press, and with the monarchy struggling to stay afloat in Australia, you weren’t sure you’d be able to cope with the pressures.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon when the private plane landed on the strip, you rubbed Henry’s belly and knew you’d have to say goodbye for a while. A woman came to you, curtsying and beginning to reapply your makeup for the cameras that would crowd you and Tom outside.

“It’ll be alright, Henry,” you cooed as she covered your under eye bags. “We’ll be back together very soon, I love you.”

The airy lavender dress you had on was not doing much to help with the heat, as it was sweltering even inside of the plane. Tom fixed himself and you picked the baby up swiftly. The nanny followed quickly behind you, ready to take the baby in her arms once a few photos had been taken of you three as a family.

The roar of the crowd could be heard by the opening door, folding downwards for you to walk down. Tom went first, you following steadily with a stirring Henry in your arms. The cameras began to click incessantly, a sleek black vehicle ready to pull you away.

Reaching the ground, Tom held your elbow and waved to the cameras. You smiled, feeling a the sweat begin to collect at your temples. Henry began to cry, your maternal instinct immediately kicking in. You held him close, kissing his temple and rubbing his back.

“We’ve got to go, Y/N,” Tom whispered to you, urging you to pass the baby over.

He watched the tears begin to well up at your waterline, face softening when he saw you kiss the baby feverishly, cooing something like ‘Mumma loves you, Henry. Dada loves you. We’ll be together again, I promise’.

Handing the baby over, you inhaled deeply and watched him be taken back up the steps. Giving a lasting wave, you let yourself be guided to the car where you sat promptly. Tom came after, saying nothing to you while the car pulled off.

“And are you happy to be in Australia?” The radio host asked, the boxy microphone in front of you.

You and Tom were sat in a glass box sort of studio, being broadcasted over Australia as your first duty of the tour. The man had a thick white mustache and a tan shirt on, much like Tom’s.

“I’m very pleased, truly! To be able to spend the next few weeks in Australia will be absolutely thrilling.”

All of the questions they were supposed to ask were pre-written and approved by the institution. It wasn’t until a woman came in through the door to the studio and sat when Tom became increasingly more frustrated with you.

“I’m such a large fan of your family!” She smiled, “I’m wondering how you’ve found motherhood so far? Have you had any difficulties?”

There’s really hundreds of rules you’re supposed to follow as royalty, but the one you remember learning only days after your engagement was to not under any circumstance make yourself human. The ploy is that as royals you are always pristine and put together, you never speak of hard times or struggle. This woman, pregnant and glowing, asking you to do exactly what you’re not supposed to do.

“It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been blessed with,” you breathed. “But of course, there are hardships. There are times when I’m absolutely exhausted, but get one good look at his face and remember what I’m here to do. And that’s to be the best wife, mother, and person I can be.”

“Does being royalty change any of that?” She leaned farther in, Tom stiffening beside you.

“I don’t think of myself as royalty, before I’m anything, I��m a mother.”

“Tom, please!” You shouted from the other side of the suite, sending all of the staff away to speak privately.

You would be on your way again, off to another city with more press. Things were scattered about the room, left unattended recently by the staff. Another argument, just as it always seemed there was.

“I cannot do this right now,” he murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You would never say these things to her.”

It came out like a whisper, but he heard it. You watched his features soften, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at you sullenly. You wouldn’t cry, you cried too often these days. Tom sighed, urging you to speak.

“Why can’t we just be normal, even for a day?” You wondered out loud, but you knew the answer was simple.

You aren’t normal.

“Y/N, we can’t keep going on like this, you know that! But every time I try and relate, you shoot me down, send me away.”

“Because I don’t wish to spend my time on the countryside, where she is! Where I’m patronized and berated! Where you go to escape me, to escape our baby—”

“You know that’s not true,” he stopped you. “I am many things, but I am not what you’re making me out to be.”

Anger radiated off of you, flushing your cheeks and making your throat constrict. Tom had a crease between his brows, sorrow written all over his face. The sun came swiftly through the sheer curtains, a telly going static in the corner of the bedroom.

“I hear the things you say to her in the night, when Henry’s gone to sleep and you’ve said you’re turning in,” you whispered softly. “You write about her, to her—long words of endearment like lovers. Tom, I’m not pushing you away, I’ve only ever wanted you! It seems you have only ever wanted her—”

“Y/N, I love you! I love our family, I want you,” he confessed breathlessly. “I only want you.”

The words took a second to register in your mind, his lips parted and turned downwards. Was it possible that he was telling the truth? He loved you, could he truly? There was nothing more that you wanted.

“I love you, Y/N…”

Maybe this would be another case of your blind optimism, or maybe he wished to do as he always did—to give love and so easily take it away. His arms at his sides, face flushed. You wished to see through him, to know what he was thinking, but you couldn’t. Tears streaming down your face, he continued to tell you he loved you.

“I want this marriage to succeed, for us and our son,” you sniffled. “I love you, Tom.”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, letting your head rest on his chest. Perhaps he could mean it, perhaps she was in the past. His hand running up and down your back, he kissed your head and whispered into your hair.

“I love you,” he repeated.

Did he?

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #royal!tom #tom holland series #tom holland blurb #tom holland x y/n #Tom holland

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whumpy-writings · 3 years ago

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An Offering

Of Vampires and Men Masterlist

CW: Vampires, slavery, character with epilepsy, aftermath of seizure, temporary paralysis, aftermath of gunshot wound, chronic pain, hopelessness, brief mention of wishing for death to escape pain, fantasy religion.

Reeve is dealing with a lot of complicated emotions in regards to adjusting to life with a disability and chronic pain. Eventually he’ll get to a point where has a better relationship with his body, but he’s not there yet in this piece.

It had been three days since his seizure, and Reeve still felt fucking awful. His head pounded and exhaustion weighed down his limbs. He still couldn’t move his legs, but at least he could speak and move the rest of his body. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep pulled at his eyelids and he was about to drift off when a soft voice said his name.

Reeve opened his eyes to see Blair standing next to his bed.

“How is your hip feeling?” They asked.

Reeve groaned. Awful, that’s how it felt. “Sore. And occasionally the stabbing pain comes back.”

The soreness was constant. It followed him every fucking second of every fucking minute. From the moment he woke up until the moment he fell asleep. And even then, sometimes he could feel the pain in his dreams. Or rather his nightmares. Reeve swallowed, tears starting to prick at his eyes.

“I’ll never be able to walk again, will I?” Reeve asked quietly. The doctor didn’t respond right away, staring at the candle next to Reeve’s bed. The flickering light danced across their pale face.

“I don’t know for sure,” they finally said. “I think it’s possible that you’ll be able to walk with a crutch, but even that might be a long shot. It’ll all depend on how the bone and muscle heals, and there isn’t anything I can do to control it. I’m sorry.”

Reeve gave a humorless laugh. That was exactly the answer he had been expecting. His laugh then turned into a sob. Gods, in an instant his life had been changed forever. Being able to walk, to move of his own will, was one of the few ways he had been able to have autonomy over his body. It was a small thing, but it had mattered to him. Then it had been ripped away. Reeve knew that he should be grateful that Braughtman didn’t succeed in killing him, that he was alive. But the constant pain, the loss of another one of his tiny shreds of freedom… sometimes it felt like too much. Like he wouldn’t be able to endure another moment. Reeve closed his eyes and tears ran down his face. He wanted to scream, to release the frustration and anger and heartbreak that had lodged itself in his heart. But instead he just whispered.

“I’m so broken. My leg, my brain. I’m in pain every single second. Sometimes I wish you had just let me die.”

The doctor didn’t respond for a second. Tears gathered in their eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I’m so sorry that you’re in so much pain. I wish I could tell you it’ll get better, but I honestly don’t know if it will. Your hip will probably become less painful over time, but I have no idea what will happen with your seizures.” They paused, and in the silence Reeve let out a sob. He brought a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle his crying. He didn’t know if he could handle this for the rest of his life. He didn’t know if he was strong enough. A lump of despair lodged in his throat.

“What’s going to happen to me?” He asked, once his crying had settled down. Reeve had wanted to ask the question for days, but he was scared to know the answer. He was completely at the mercy of these vampires. He was their property, and despite their assurances that he would be safe, dread still colored all his thoughts of the future. Of what they could and would do to a helpless human.

Blair chewed their bottom lip, a sharp fang sticking out. It suddenly occurred to Reeve that he hadn’t been fed on for almost ten days. That was the longest time he had gone without losing blood for the three years he had been the property of the army.

Blair finally responded. “The General and I are still trying to figure that out. You won’t be sent back to the food supply, that’s for sure.” They paused. Reeve’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know if he should be grateful or anxious about not being sent back there. “We’ve been in contact with some people who can take care of you. If all goes according to plan, you’ll be sent to them next month. You should be well enough to travel by then.”

Reeve’s heart skipped another beat. “What people?” He asked shakily.

This time, Blair gave him a small smile. “The monks at the Monastery of Clea. We’re waiting to hear back if they have room to take you in. You’ll be safe there. They are devoted to taking care of humans as an act of worship to the goddess.”

Reeve didn’t respond, his mind reeling. That… was not what he had been expecting. Clea was the goddess of humans, sister of Lebne, god of vampires. He knew nothing about her monastery, nothing about the monks who might be taking him in. But through the cloud of apprehension, something shined through. Something which he hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. Hope.

…

It turned out that the Monastery did have room. A six weeks later, Reeve sat in the bed of a wagon, his crutch leaning against his leg as the miles trundled by, the stars stretching overhead. The General had sent him with the caravan going on a supply run, which would be passing close by the Monastery. Reeve closed his eyes, tears threatening to fall as he remembered his goodbye to Davin. He would certainly never see him again. But Blair promised that they would make sure Davin stayed safe, ensure that he wasn’t hurt. Reeve just hoped they would be able to keep that promise.

The wagon hit a rut and Reeve hissed as his leg was jostled. Luckily, the pain was more bearable now that the bone had mostly healed. He could walk with a crutch, which he was grateful for even though it was often painful.

They were close.

Reeve sat up a bit higher, wincing as a shot of pain lanced through his right side. They were making their way over gently rolling hills, mountains rising sharply in the distance. A cluster of buildings nestled at the bottom of the hill. Reeve could just make out their shapes in the pre-dawn light. It was the Monastery.

His stomach twisted. He didn’t know what was waiting for him there. Supposedly he would be well taken care of, kept safe and comfortable for the rest of his days. Reeve had never been particularly religious. Yes, he prayed, but it seemed like more often than not his prayers went unanswered. He did it more out of habit than out of any sense of devotion. But this seemed like a good time to pray. Please, Goddess, grant me your protection and mercy. Wrap me in your cloak and shelter me from evil. For I am but your fragile child. The prayer was one Reeve had grown up with, one his mother had taught him back in his village. He hoped that the Goddess heard it.

The wagon slowly rolled to a stop in front of the metal gates to the Monastery. Reeve’s heart was in his throat. It still hadn’t completely sank in that he would live out the rest of his days here. The wagon driver walked around to the back and helped Reeve down without a word. Reeve gasped as his feet hit the ground, hip stiff and aching after the hours of travel.

Two vampires stood at the gate, both dressed in white robes.

“Thank you for your assistance. May the Goddess smile upon you.” One of them said to the wagon driver. The driver gave a curt bow before climbing back into his seat and urging the horses back the way they had just come from. Reeve stood there, a slight tremble in his limbs. The vampires must have smelled his fear, because they both gave him soft smiles. The older of the two, a man with graying temples, spoke first. “You’re safe here, Reeve. My name is Ambrose, and I am the Abbot of the Monastery of Clea. On behalf of the Goddess, we welcome you.” With that he gave Reeve a deep bow. Reeve’s cheeks colored. Gods, this attention, this respect, felt wrong.

Ambrose’s companion stepped forward. The vampire was slim, with blonde hair tied in a bun at the nape of their neck. When their eyes met Reeve’s, they gave him a small smile. Then they gracefully sank to their knees, pressing their palms and head against the ground.

“Welcome to the Monastery, Reeve. My name is Nadiv, and it is my great honor to serve you.”

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @princessofonwardsworld @puffball-lover554 @itsleighlove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @that-sapphic-person @melancholy-in-the-morning @pizzasthengym @suspicious-whumping-egg

#of vampires and men #reeve the human #nadiv the vampire #vampires tw #slavery tw #fantasy religion tw #temporary paralysis #aftermath of seizure #hopelessness tw #aftermath of whump #gunshot wound tw #chronic pain tw #death mention tw #vampire caretaker #multiple caretakers #human whumpee

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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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moonbeamwritings · 4 years ago

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one missed call

Summary: You were haunted by what happened in Egypt. The loss of your friends and the disconnect from the others that came in the years afterwards weighed heavily on your mind. One night, after a horrible day at work, you find that you received a voicemail from someone you never thought you’d hear from again: Jotaro Kujo.

Author’s Note: This is a little different from what I normally post. A little less fluff, a little more angst. There are very brief mentions of blood, but they’re vague. Let me know what you think!

The second you stepped through your apartment door and closed it, you slumped back with a sigh. “Worst day ever,” you spoke aloud. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag, you collapsed onto your couch, relishing in the silence of your living room.

This time of year was always… difficult, to say the least. Not only were the holidays beyond stressful in and of themselves, but you were reminded, more so than any other time of year, of the loss of your dear friends.

Every night over the past week had graced you with images of gore, the rush of blood and water, and the whirring screech of an ambulance coupled with the muffled voices of Speedwagon Foundation medics, their hushed conversations blaring in your ears despite their quiet tones.

“Noriaki Kakyoin. Time of death approximately-”

You shook the thought from your head, feeling all the more sick to your stomach. Your day at work hadn’t been easy given your current state, but your boss refused reason, seemingly working you harder knowing that you were suffering. You were tired, in more ways than one.

You flicked the television on and disappeared down the hallway. If I’m gonna be upset, you thought, I might as well be comfortable. Tugging a warm, soft sweater over your head and a pair of sweatpants up your legs, you were ready to tackle whatever horrible tv show was on and whatever leftovers you had in the fridge.

You reheated some take-out you’d had over the weekend and dropped back onto the couch, mind slowly shutting down at the sight of a brainless, campy reality tv show on one of the stations. Perfect.

Your position on the couch gave you a clear view of your phone, resting on a small table across the room.

Blink blink. Blink blink.

The green answering machine light was on, which almost never happened. Nobody calls me, you thought curiously. You muted the tv and made your way over to the phone, a funny feeling bubbling in your stomach.

Clicking play, you felt your heart stop in your chest, completely ceasing to beat as it knocked the air from your lungs.

“Hi,” a deep, smooth voice spoke through the phone, “This is Jotaro Kujo. I hope I’ve reached the right number.”

Your mouth fell open as you heard him. It was really him. You hadn’t spoken to Jotaro since you last saw him at the airport in Egypt, 10 years ago. You would scoff if you didn’t miss him so damn much. Back then, he’d looked at you like he had something to say, but it seemed as though he opted to bite his tongue. When Polnareff had pulled you all into a group hug before returning to France, you had a sinking feeling in your chest. DIO had been defeated, sure, but something still didn’t seem right.

You moved on, as they all seemed to. You returned home, you went back to some semblance of normalcy despite the nightmares, the loneliness. You had half a mind to be pissed, to ignore the phone call and to kick Jotaro out of your life for good, dealing with the spiraling thoughts all on your own. You couldn’t do it anymore, though, and that’s what compelled you to hang on to his every word.

“I, um-” There was a pregnant pause, almost so long that you had assumed he hung up, “I hope you’re doing well.” He let out a short laugh. There was no joy in it. “Well, as good as you can be, I guess.”

“I wanted to call to apologize. Leaving you in the dark for so long, letting you live with the grief all on your own, knowing that I was going through the same things. It never sat well with me. The old man said that just telling you what’s been going through my head might help, even if you tell me to fuck off. I know my emotions are nowhere near as obvious as I think they are.”

You felt your heart start to beat again, slowly going faster and faster until it was little more than hammering in your chest.

“Yare yare daze, I guess I just-” Jotaro cut himself off again, a creak in a chair sounded in the background, “I couldn’t handle it. I know it’s a pathetic excuse and I know you must be angry with me. You might not even listen to this message. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t.”

How could I not, you thought in silent response.

“I just couldn’t bring myself to reach out, well, until now. You reminded me of everything I felt like I couldn’t have, what I can’t have.”

You found your brows creasing in confusion.

“I was in love with you back then.” Another mirthless laugh, a beat of silence. “I guess I still am. That’s why I called. Look, I’m sorry for going radio silent, for not reaching out… for everything. I was afraid and I felt like I didn’t deserve you.”

Hot, wet tears began racing down your cheeks and you had to place a hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. You closed your eyes as the message played on.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m being selfish, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to see you, if you’ll have me.” The call fell silent again and you could swear you heard Jotaro let out a soft sound, a sniffle followed by a clearing of his throat. When he returned to the phone, you could hear the emotion in his voice.

“I’m sorry. If you get this, give me a call. Bye.”

With the click of the phone, your living room was plunged into silence, save for the sound of your soft cries. You furiously wiped at your tears as they fell, walking back to sit down on the couch to will your heart to just slow down, if only for a minute.

Your mind was reeling, sending your whole world spiraling upside down. All over just one phone call.

He’d been in love with you? Then, and even now?

It was hard to believe, which made the whole situation that much worse. Why now? Why in this way? Had he, too, been thinking about that fateful trip to Egypt all those years ago? Was November and December just as difficult for him as it was for you?

It was painful, dealing with endless thoughts all while fat, salty tears raced down your face, dampening the sleeves of your sweater with every swipe at your eyes. You leaned back against the armrest, losing yourself in the nonexistent patterns decorating your ceiling.

Thinking back now, perhaps all this time spent with no word from him was so upsetting all because you were in love with him. How stupid, you blubbered, to be thrust into such an emotional upheaval all over a boy you’d fallen in love with at 17. It’s not fair.

He hadn’t even called, or tried to. He had ten years to do so and clearly he knew someone who could connect him to you. You rolled your eyes at the thought of the Speedwagon Foundation’s involvement in all of this. It was frustrating, racing back and forth between anger, sadness, and elation.

You resolved to deal with this mess tomorrow. Maybe sleep will help, you thought as you tucked yourself into bed, eager to shut your eyes.

Sleep did not come so easily because of course it didn’t. Echoes of his words rattled in your mind, playing on a loop as if to torment you, to make your nights even more sleepless.

Before you knew it, the sun was up.

As if to give you some sort of reprieve, you were off from work. A small treat from the universe to say, you can rest, just this once.

You practically dragged your body down the hallway, eyes stinging with a lack of sleep and unshed tears. With breakfast sorted, you sat down to listen to the voicemail again. You weren’t sure if you were just trying to make yourself more upset or if the warm, orange glow of the sun shining through your blinds would bring you some form of clarity.

The second time through did little else but convince you that you needed to talk to Jotaro, no matter how painful it may end up being.

With a shaking hand, you reached out to dial his number, taking each digit slowly as a way to delay the inevitable. The line began to ring and you could almost feel your mouth running dry, the thudding of your heart threatening to burst your chest open. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to keep the water in your eyes from spilling over.

After four rings, you could hear Jotaro answer, “Hello?”

The ringing in your ears, the pounding in your heart, they didn’t stop with the sound of his voice.

“Uh hi, Jotaro? It’s me.”

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo imagine #jotaro x reader #jotaro imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine

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ezrasarm · 4 years ago

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Roommates Part 3: KO

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: drunk reader, Santiago is a bad influence, drink responsibly kids! That’s all I think?

A/N: I know it’s been a long wait but the next part is finally here! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy it!

<– previous chapter | Roommates | next chapter –>

Frankie had been gone for a while. He had excused himself to go to the bathroom almost twenty minutes ago and Benny was bound to go on soon. You didn’t want him to miss the fight and get in trouble is what you’d excused the nag in your gut urging you to seek him out as when you were about to go looking for him. You knew he would get an earful if he missed even a second because you were the one in the hot seat last time when you missed a whole fight after being called into work last minute.

Pope seemed to find you first, shoving a drink in your hand as you peered over his shoulder, expecting Frankie to be close in tow. “You don’t have to sound quite so disappointed you got me instead.” Santiago teased you when you not so subtly asked where he was.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You assured him with a roll of your eyes, giving him a nudge to the shoulder and a thank you for the drink. But if you were being honest, you’d been with Pope all day and had hardly seen Frankie all week. You were beginning to wonder if something was wrong. “He’s right over there. Ran into an old high school classmate and they’re catching up by the bar.” Santiago said with a directed nod of his head and you followed his line of sight over to where you could see the familiar silhouette, corduroy jacket and baseball cap and all, stooped a little with his arms folded over his chest and talking to some woman you’d never seen before.

You weren’t sure what the feeling that twisted in your stomach was or why it decided to rear its head right now but you found yourself feeling slightly defensive when you turned back to Santiago with eyebrows raised. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting a she and you couldn’t tell why that threw you off so much. Frankie could talk to whoever he pleased, it was none of your business but you still found yourself downing just about half your drink in one go to try and drown whatever feeling it was that had begun growing in your belly.

“That was fast.” Santiago remarked, giving you a skeptical look as he glanced between you and the almost empty cup in your hand, “You alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, fine! It’s just been a while since I let loose. Thought I might let myself have some fun tonight.” You shrugged.

He glanced back up in Frankie’s direction and eyed you for a second, taking a moment to consider it, “Can’t argue with that,” he nodded before downing his own drink as though it were a challenge.

You had lost track of how many beers you and Santiago had snuck behind Will’s back who was too busy to play baby sitter tonight as he usually did. Drinking with him had certainly done its job to distract you. You had almost forgotten all about the fact that your best friend had decided to spend the evening talking to some stranger instead of you. God what had gotten into you? You were not the jealous type and you didn’t like how it felt-

Thud.

You didn’t have time to consider that thought any further before you had run straight into the man of the hour himself on your way back from the bar.

“Shit, sorry- Oh hey!” You exclaimed, having miraculously avoiding throwing your drinks all over both of you with those dumb plastic cups they gave you here.

“Woah, you alright there?” Frankie asks, throwing an arm out to stabilize you. “I swear, I left you alone for ten min- okay an hour and a half and- how many of those have you had?” He asks, noticing the slight wobble to your balance and slur to your speech as you introduced yourself and shook the hand of the woman he had been talking to.

“Uhhh good question,” you ponder for a moment before shrugging “Santi and I found out that if you’re a girl alone at an MMA fight you can get a lot of free drinks so we’ve made it our mission to find out exactly how many.” You explain, shooting a wink and a slight salute over to Pope who was still standing, waiting by your seats.

“And have you gotten an answer yet?” Frankie asks, slightly amused but also positive that he would be making sure this was your last drink of the night when you stumbled slightly over nothing and he had to wrap an arm around you for support.

“It appears there is no limit.” You say proudly, missing the fond look in his eye when he shakes his head with a soft and slightly disbelieving smile.

“Cheryl, this is my uh, roommate.” Frankie says gesturing towards you.

“What, are you embarrassed of me or something’? I’d say we’re a little bit more than that.” You interject. You had meant friends but from the look on her face she appeared to have taken it another way and for some reason or another you felt no need to correct her.

“Oh well uh, it’s nice to meet you.” She says politely although clearly thrown slightly by your quite obvious inebriation.

“Nice to meet you too, Carol!” You declare happily and you mean it, it’s interesting to see the kinds of people Frankie went to high school with but you really weren’t in much state to be particularly conversational at the moment.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing six foot three, weighing in at a hundred and ninety five pounds, I bring you… Ben Miller!” The announcer blares over the booming speakers, pulling you from your conversation. You and Frankie are quick to give Benny your support, you perhaps a little more enthusiastically in your less inhibited state as he and Will walked into the arena and the crowd roared to life.

“Well we should get back. I’ll never hear the end of it if I miss any of this and I’ve gotta make sure these two don’t get into any more trouble,” Frankie explains, “But it was nice catching up with you.” He says and Carol- Cheryl? One of those- nods.

“Yeah, I hope to see you around again sometime.” She says. She’s hardly turned to walk away before you’re wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at Frankie on your way over to Pope and Will.

“You realize she was hitting on you, right?” You asked when Frankie turned back to you, a teasing smile on your lips despite the rising feeling of inadequacy you felt from having stood within a two-meter radius of the gorgeous woman.

“What? No! She was just-” Frankie cuts himself off after considering it for a moment. “...huh.” He says, eyebrows rising in slight surprise when he looks over his shoulder at the woman who he had already lost in the throngs of people. “I’m sure she was just being polite.”

“You’re too hard on yourself! She was checking you out!” You exclaim defensively, more for his own self esteem than anything else.

“...Me?” He gives you a skeptical look.

“Yeah, why not you? You’ve got this sort of je ne ce quoi about you. The ladies dig it.” You say with a goofy grin and Frankie can’t help but burst out laughing.

“That so? What about you?” He asks. For a millisecond your heart stops in your chest. Could he read your mind? Did he know about the thoughts that had just slipped to the forefront? The jealousy? The little bit of longing? It was the alcohol talking you were sure. You would never want to jeopardize your friendship by allowing yourself to picture him as anything more than that but for a flash of a second it hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea.

“Oh, I dig it too.” You say, nudging him in the gut teasingly. What you didn’t see was the way Frankie’s breath had hitched at the slightest inkling of you expressing interest in him, even if he knew you were just joking around. “I bet if you asked you could get her number.” You say and he’s snapped quite violently out of his trance.

He didn’t want her number. He wanted you.

“Nah, she’s not really my type.” Is the response he settles for, his attention resettling on the fight in an attempt to drown out the feeling of disappointment he wasn’t sure he knew how to hide. He knew it wasn’t fair on you but the slightest hint of jealousy might have been nice to hear and instead you were giving him a rousing endorsement to go after someone he didn’t even like all that much.

“Are you kidding? Pardon the pun, but she was a knockout!” You exclaim just in time to watch Benny take a rather jarring blow to the jaw.

“Meh,” Frankie shrugs and you can’t help the yelp of surprise that escapes you.

“If she’s ‘meh’ then what am I?” You exclaim and Frankie’s jaw just about hits the ground at the fact that you could even think to ask him such a question. You were just about perfect to him in every way imaginable.

He doesn’t get the chance to tell you when the crowd roars to life as Benny finds himself making a comeback and you’re practically jumping out of your seat to bolster your support for your friend.

“You should go get her number.” You suggest when you sit back down, a little confused as to why. Perhaps you were overcompensating for your wave of jealousy earlier but there was still something in you screaming for you to stop acting like you were so okay with it. Because if the way you had reacted earlier and your current state of inebriation was any inclination, you clearly weren’t, but your mind was in no place to put those pieces together at the moment.

“Why is everyone trying to set me up all of a sudden?” Frankie scoffs playfully trying to shrug off your suggestion. “First Pope, now you,” He stops himself hoping you haven’t realized he’s probably said too much.

“Who was Santiago trying to set you up with?” You ask. Just the question he didn’t want to answer, especially not right now, not like this. He’s quite literally saved by the bell announcing the end of the match and when you look up Benny’s opponent is unconscious in front of him. A KO and you’d both missed it. You wouldn’t be getting out of that one too easily. You’re whisked away in post win festivities before you can even think to get an answer from Frankie.

He thinks you’ve forgotten about the conversation completely until he’s gotten you and Pope both wrangled into the car on your way back to the apartment and you pipe up from where he thought you had passed out the moment he had you strapped in.

“So what’s Francisco Morales’ type?” you ask groggily, clearly not ready to give him a break yet and he laughs as he peers into the rearview to make sure Pope is still asleep before he even considers giving you an answer.

“What makes you think I have a type?” He counters fruitlessly in hopes that he can at least attempt finding a suitable answer.

“Well you said Carol-”

“Cheryl-”

“-wasn’t your type so I’m assuming that means you have a type.” You prod him, your eyes still shut as you leaned back in the passenger seat.

“Well… I’d say my type would be someone who is smart, funny, supportive, all those wonderful things,” He explains, feeling a little more at ease when he looks over to see your breaths have shallowed slightly and your head has lulled against the window. “Has a good sense of humour, makes me smile, is fiercely loyal to her friends,” he goes on, “can be a complete dork if she wants to be, has no idea how beautiful she is,” he adds “and has me completely and utterly wrapped around her finger.” He mutters to himself when he looks back up at the road with a sigh.

<– previous chapter | Roommates | next chapter –>

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years ago

Text

Phic Phight - The Weird Little Shit

For: @darks-ink

A class discussion held by Wes about Danny’s weirdness was never not going to be an absolute cluster fuck

Wes smacks the board, “alright, fuckers, thank you for coming-”.

“We’re only here because we lost a bet”.

“Shut up, Dash. You shouldn’t have to be strong-armed into learning the truth”. Everyone rolls their eyes at Wes pretty actively. “Anyway, since you all refuse to see or even listen to the truth of what Danny Fenton is. Instead, this. Weird shit about Danny Fenton one oh one”.

Dash snorts, “now this I can get behind, little shit weighs, like, ten pounds or some shit”. Wes points at him aggressively, “exactly”. Scribbling down ‘weighs less than a sack of potatoes' on the board. Star throwing in her two cents, “yeah and I’ve seen Sam just pick him up under her arm and run off”.

Brittney smacks her desk, “half the time he makes food directly in home ec it’s fucking cold, which ew, but also really weird”.

“Oh yeah he does that with his drinks too. He whole ass ‘drank’ a solid chunk of ice, major power move honestly”.

“And remember that snowball fight? I don’t think he ever actually made any snowballs, he just kept acquiring them”.

“Kid made for a great air conditioner when all the windows got stuck shut though; guy runs cold as fuck”.

Wes is just aggressively scribbling more down with a mildly manic grin.

“We should totally invite him to parties so he can keep the fucking beer cold”.

Dash laughs loudly and smacks Dale on the arm, “now there’s an idea!”, deadpanning, “still not inviting freaky Fenton though”. Dale chuckles very awkwardly.

“Well he’s an ice sculptor so that’s not surprising”.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘ice sculptor’? He clearly lifts weights in his spare time”.

“Oh yeah, he lowkey picked up the back end of my car once”.

“James, your car is a tiny little piece of shit. I could lift that damn thing”.

“Hey”.

“Anyway. Like I was saying, people who handle cold shit all the time, you know, like ice sculptors, usually have cold hands”.

“He lifts weights! Not ice sculpts!”.

“Here I though he was a painter”.

“Why the fuck would he be doing that?”.

“Well he’s always randomly splattered in green paint”.

Basically everyone pauses to look at Hanna. Kwan blinking, “the green is ectoplasm, duh”. Emilie shrugging and nodding, “everyone knows that”.

“Well I thought it was paint”.

“Well you’re clearly stupid”.

“Shut up”.

Dash waves everyone off, “so clearly not a painter or weight lifter, because have you seen his goddamn noodle arms?”.

“He lifts weights!”.

“No he doesn’t!”.

“Who cares! Have you seen his dad? Of course he’s a strong little shit! What really gets me is him getting out of locked rooms”.

“Oh he whole ass climbs out windows and shit”.

“All that ecto that gets on his skin makes his hands all sticky, hence why he can climb the side of buildings”.

“When the heck did you see him doing that?”.

“Oh I totally saw him showing off knife swallowing to some elementary kids”.

“I think he hangs out and does drugs or some shit on the roof”.

“So he climbs up the school building to do drugs? Why wouldn’t he just use the hidden steps like a normal person?”,

“I’m pretty sure the kitchen staff actually include him in their budget for missing utensils cause he eats so many of them”.

“Julie, no one’s saying Danny’s close to normal. Also kids got an iron stomach damn”.

Dash has to jump in there, “I totally made him eat my underwear once”. Earning him a round of judging glances. “What? I didn’t expect him to actually do it. I was planning to mock him for pussying out. But then the little fucker went and did it”.

“Power move”.

“Shut up”.

“You fed your underwear to a guy who builds guns?”.

“Excuse me but what?”.

“Maybe him doing so much dangerous shit is why his heartbeats all slow and stuff”.

“Again, excuse?”.

“Well we totally tested everyone’s heart rates and breathing and shit and he’s super low. He blamed his corn supper”.

“That’s stupid”.

“His corn supper had teeth, Todd”.

“Back to the gun making because what?”.

“FentonWorks is a weapon company what do you expect?”.

“James, he made a shotgun out of a pencil, two toothpicks, an elastic band, and a snapped in half penny. The thing was magically welded together”.

“You can’t weld a fucking pencil. It’s wood, moron”.

“Well it was goddamn wielded”.

Wes grumbles, “yeah he welded my binder zipper together once, stupid pyrokinesis”. Star glares at him, “I thought this wasn’t about your crazy conspiracy crap?”. Wes glares at her like she’s stupid.

“Ignoring Wes being crazy again. You guys do know he has laser beam lipstick right? He could totally weld stuff with that”.

“Didn’t he have a tail that one day?”.

“Huh?”.

“That lipstick of his is the plasma peach one right? Because girl I so need some, it makes amazing blush”.

“Oh no a dog just crawled under his shirt. I think he was trying to hide the treats or some shit?”.

“Fucking where? in his shoulder blades?!?”.

“Oh my god that’s right, he can totally pop all his joints out so probably yeah”.

“Since when could he do that? Better yet, why? Fucking ow”.

“His fingers also glow green when he cracks them”.

“Right Right I remember that! We also got him under a black light, totally wild”.

“I wish I could pop out my joints randomly”.

“He probably just eats glow sticks and they leaked into his joints and shit”.

“THAT MAKES NO SENSE”.

“Who cares, take him to a rave”.

“Oh my god yes he does amazing makeup”.

“Wait Fenton does makeup now too?”.

Wes points at Dash, “he’s got to cover up the dead parlour to his skin somehow”. With half the class shouting, “HE’S NOT DEAD”.

Emilie pursing her lips, “but what if he was, that would be hot”.

“EXCUSE ME!?!”.

“Oh get off your vanilla basic bitch high horse, Karen”.

Wes rubs his forehead, “not this shit again”. Smacking the board, “weird shit about Fenton, people! Not y’alls weird necrophilia fetish!”.

“Hey that’s just Emilie”.

Jesse looks genuinely offended, “bitch what? Have you seen a ghost? That glow? Mmmmmh yeah, daddy”.

Star chokes, “oh my god. I love our town”.

Wes sighs, “I should just start blocking you people from seeing ghosts at all. Cover those eyes until you stop BEING FUCKING BLIND”.

“Eyes never stop seeing, they just get covered”.

“NO! NO! BAD!“.

“That weirdly reminds me that Danny can totally walk with his eyes closed”.

“That’s weird how?”.

“How ‘bout you fucking try it then!”.

Dash shrugs, “well his eyes go glowy green all the time so no surprise he can just see through his eyelids”. More than a few people look to him, “why did you not add that to the weird list?”.

“Because it’s not weird”.

“Dash... do you know anyone with goddamn glowing eyes... besides ghosts”.

“Uhhh the entire Defect Quartet”.

“Excuse?!?”.

“Honestly him biting open pop-cans is weirder”.

“Oh god yeah, that’s horrible to hear”.

“He dead ass cut his lip up once doing that and just... kept doing it. There was blood all over his neck”.

“Why the heck didn’t anyone take an edgy aesthetic photo of that? Goddamn”.

“I feel like this is more an off-the-books class on discovering that Danny might actually be hot”.

“You wanna say Fenton’s hot again? I’ll goddamn choke you, motherfucker”.

“Do it you fake ass bear dom”.

A couple of people shuffle out of their desks and away when Dash actually throws a punch at Jasper.

“On a side note, once saw Danny sleeping in a trash can”.

“How is that weird”.

“How isn’t it? It’s a trashcan”.

“And he’s trash, your point”.

“YOU'RE GONNA HAVETA HIT HARDER IF YOU WANT TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION ON YOUR TWINK BOY! HE’S DURABLE AS FUCK!”.

“FUCK YOU!!!”.

“Huh, he did survive falling from the ceiling multiple times and that drowning once”.

“Fucker wasn’t drowned, he can breathe underwater”.

“Excuse me?”.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?!”.

Dash snapping his head around, “IM TEACHING HIM A LESSON!”. Jasper just smirks, “I DON’T NEED BREATH PLAY TIPS FROM YOU!”. Dash tries punching him again.

“This is ridiculous, I mean really, Danny would be the dom”. That silenced the entire room.

“What?”.

“Come on, he ate Skulker once ‘cause the guy was coping him an attitude”.

“DANNY EATS GHOSTS?!?”.

Wes turns around and slams his head on the board, “God fuck this is such a cluster fuck”.

“You’re hosting this and holding us hostage here”.

“YOU’RE NOT MY HOSTAGES! YALL LOST A BET!”.

“Oh suck my toes”.

“WHAT?!”.

“While Wes loses his mind for the fifth time this week, what we’ve got is he’s icy as shit, likes welding and makeup and ice sculptures and weight lifting, weighs fuck all, just vores goddamn everything, and climbs shit weirdly well?”.

“You’re forgetting all the glow shit”.

“HA! Glowing shit”.

“Fuck Todd, you are a dumbass”.

“IN SHORT LOCAL ELDRITCH TEEN BUT HE’S STILL NOT A GODDAMN GHOST WES!”

“FUCK YOU! IT’S SO GODDAMN OBVIOUS HOW ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS OHMYGOD!”.

Just then Danny Fenton opens up the door, the class going dead silent while he glances around slowly. Him looking to the whiteboard, then slowly back to his fellow teens, speaking “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no”, while slowly backing out and closing the door.

At first, no one says anything before Star snickers, “pffft”; the entire classroom bursting out into laughter directly afterwards.

Wes turning around and smacking his head on the board once again, “why. Just. Why me”.

END.

Prompt: Wacky reveals (ex: Danny drying up too quickly bc intangibility, Danny's drink stays cool way too long, people's electronic devices are always more charged when they've been near Danny, etc)

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datleggy · 4 years ago

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Totally random thought I had right as I am going to bed but ya know that show "I didn't know I was pregnant"? Buck would be on that show lol the boy is oblivious when it comes to his own body, so like I can perfectly picture him collapsing on the job one day wracked with pain, and then Hen is poking around his stomach where it hurts, her, Buck and Eddie packed into the back of the ambulance as Chim and Bobby drive to the hospital, and she gets out the stethoscope to try and listen for internal bleeding or anything but instead finds an infant heartrate and she's like "Buck, you're pregnant?" And he's like "uh, no? What the hell?" And then his water breaks and he tries to convince hen and Eddie that he had an accident bc even that would be a better alternative to suddenly figuring out he's about to have a baby???? What the fuck???? But Eddie holds his hand all the way through it and by the time they get to the hospital, Buck has a healthy newborn cradled against his chest, Eddie knelt beside him and alternating between kissing buck and the baby on the head, and observing the baby in disbelief. I can also picture Buck like, sobbing his sorry's to Eddie the entire time he's pushing, like "Eddie I swear I had no idea, if I had known, I would have told you!" And Eddie is just reassuring him the entire time like "don't worry about that now, Buck, just concentrate. No one is mad, okay? But you gotta focus on the- on the baby" and buck just sobs and nods and focuses on the delivery again. But for a good while Buck is in denial that any of this is happening and it takes a lot of convincing and encouragement from both hen and Eddie for him to start actively participating in his baby's birth. Anyways, random half asleep thought is finished sorry for the long ask hdshsjjsjdbsjsj

WELL SHIT ok so i actually love that show and i could see buck doing this lmao so i wrote a thing. also ignore all medical inaccuracies, this is my distraction from monday lmao let me have this wildly inept fic pls.

also just in case, it’s pretty brief, i think, but TW for talk of weight and weight gain

It's nearing the end of their shift now and Buck can almost hear his feet howling at him in pain. Today hadn't even really been all that busy, he thinks, annoyed at his own body's betrayal. He's not even thirty yet, but in the last couple of months he's felt as though he's aged about ten years.

He's put on a few pounds, which isn't too uncommon, sometimes Buck goes through stretches of time where he eats more carbs than he needs and works out less than he'd like and so a little tummy fat is to be expected.

It normally doesn't bother him, except that in the last maybe three months he hasn't felt like exercising much outside of work but he's eaten nearly everything in sight every night. He's up about fifteen pounds, which he wouldn't have even noticed, seeing that he does fluctuate at times anywhere between five to eight pounds over or under what he usually weighs, if it hadn't been for Chimney teasing him about putting down his third Krispy Kreme donut of the day and picking up a barbell earlier this morning.

Chim and Buck poke fun at each other all the time--it's a staple in their friendship and brother ship, in fact--and Buck had flipped him the bird, nothing new there. What had been new was the fact that he'd excused himself to the bathroom right after that and locked himself in a stall and bawled his eyes out as quietly as humanly possible.

Buck grimaces, embarrassed still, by the outburst, even if no one had been there to witness it. He still has no idea what the hell that had been about this morning.

Eddie notices the sour mood and pulls him in close. "Hey, you ok?"

Buck nods. "Yeah, just tired. Ready to go home--shit." Buck feels a shooting pain so intense his knees buckle and Eddie has to hold him upright to keep him from hitting the floor.

“Woah!” Eddie calls Bobby over, who’s closest, for help, “Buck? Buck, you with me? What’s wrong? What hurts?”

Buck just shakes his head and grits his teeth, the pain so debilitating he can hardly breathe much less speak.

The Captain is on his other side in an instant and together Eddie and Bobby help Buck towards the couch, where he collapses in a heap, throwing his head back and letting out an agonized whine. “What’s going on? Did he get hurt during one of the calls?” Bobby asks Eddie, frantic to help put a stop to this.

Eddie’s helpless, “Bobby I don’t know, one second we were talking about going home and the next he practically fell to the floor in pain.” he turns to face his husband, “Baby, I’m here, look at me, what’s the matter? What hurts?”

Buck’s face scrunches up and he finally exhales sharply, his grip on the couch cushions loosening, and he opens his eyes, wide like saucers, and says, “What the fuck was that?”

At this point Hen and Chim, as well as half the crew, have gathered around and Hen is quick to put on her doctors hat and try to sus out the problem. She makes Bobby step aside and Chimney hands her a stethoscope. “Buck, is it your stomach?” she asks, noticing the stiff way he’s holding himself around his midriff.

“I don’t--kinda? I don’t know. It was just like, this crazy wave of pain, almost like a cramp, but way worse.” he struggles to describe the feeling now that it’s more or less passed for the time being.

Hen had seen Buck wince when he’d been in the harness on the last call of the day, but he hadn’t said anything and she hadn’t thought too much about it until now. “Did you hurt yourself in the harness earlier? Maybe pulled something when we reeled you back up?” she asks, palpitating his stomach with her fingers, watching him almost retract from her touch.

“Maybe?” Buck shrugs uncomfortably, wincing when she hits a particularly sore spot.

Something about this feels familiar and strangely obvious, but Hen doesn’t understand why until she puts her stethoscope up to his belly to check for lack of bowel sounds, indicating maybe some internal bleeding or sorts.

Hen gasps out loud and sits up like she’s been smacked.

Eddie frowns. “What? What’s wrong? Is he gonna be ok?” He almost wants to snatch the damn stethoscope out of her ears and check for himself, his eyes darting between Hen and Buck nervously.

“Buck, you’re pregnant. And in labor, by the sounds of it.” Hen blurts out in disbelief.

“What.” Buck blinks at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This has to be a joke.

“I heard a heartbeat in there...” Hen informs them, still awed. “Buck, that was a contraction you just experienced.”

Eddie gapes at Hen and then at Buck. “You’re pregnant?”

Buck gapes right back at him. “No!” he denies, shaking his head incredulously. “That’s insane, I can’t be pregn--ah--” Buck leans forward in pain as another contraction begins. “Fuck.”

“Jesus, yeah, no you’re definitely pregnant,” Chim announces, “Your water just broke all over my favorite couch, bud. I’m getting the ambulance ready asap.” he says, before running to do just that, head reeling. He thinks about Maddie and when she gave birth to their daughter and how scared out of his mind he’d been and he sympathizes for Buck and Eddie, who up until now apparently hadn’t even realizes they were expecting...

Back at the lounge Buck continues to deny any of this is even happening. He whines into Eddie’s chest, “That’s pee, it has to be, because I’m not pregnant. There’s no way.” he lets out a pitiful whimper as another contraction begins and buries his face against his husband to hide the tears springing up in his eyes.

“Buck, son, we gotta get you to a hospital right now.” Bobby tries, running a soothing hand over the top of his head.

But Buck shakes his head no, shuddering out a sob. “M’not going.”

Eddie, overwhelmed, looks to Hen and Bobby for help.

“Buck, ambulance is ready to go, we need to move unless you wanna have this kid at the firehouse.” Hen grimaces. “I know you’re in pain and I know you’re confused and hurting, but we need to get you into that ambulance and now.”

Buck cries out when another contraction hits him and Hen gulps. “Your contractions are getting way too close together, we need to move.” she nods at her Captain and Eddie to help get Buck up and together the three of them manage to get Buck onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulance.

Bobby rides up front with Chimney, leaving Hen and Eddie to work in the back with Buck.

“Buck, you need to start getting ready to push, this baby’s coming.” Hen warns him, but Buck refuses.

“I can’t.” he sobs. “I didn’t--” he throws his head back, the pain lighting his nerves on fire. “I swear Eddie, I didn’t know. You gotta believe me.”

Eddie takes Bucks hand into his and brings it up to his lips. “I know baby, I know, you don’t have to worry about that. I promise. Nobody is mad at you, ok? I’m not. But right now you need to focus on pushing, you need to listen to Hen, ok? We’re ok, and you’re gonna be ok, but I need you to push, baby. I love you so much, you know that, right?”

Buck lets Eddie wipe away his tears, leans into the comforting touch, and nods shakily, exhaling. “O-ok, I’m--I’m ready.”

**************

The baby is so very tiny in Eddie’s arms.

Olive Buckley-Diaz is born weighing exactly six pounds and two ounces.

Christopher, who’s curled up against Bucks side on the hospital bed after a very exhausting day, looks up at his Buck, his little brow still knitted in confusion. “So she was a surprise baby? And that’s how come you guys didn’t tell me about her?”

Buck tries not to laugh. “Yeah bud, it was a huge surprise to us, too.”

Eddie nods along, smiling fondly down at the bundle he’s holding. Her blotchy red face is slack in sleep and there’s already tufts of brown hair sticking up funnily on her head under her hat. “I still can’t believe you only gained like fifteen pounds during the whole pregnancy.” Eddie chuckles, “Or that you worked through the nine months, God Buck, when I think of the stunts you pulled during calls in the last few months alone I’m--” he shudders. “Actually I’d rather not think about it.” he sighs, “I’m just happy you’re both healthy at the end of the day.”

Really, it’s a miracle. The doctor had said as much after the delivery.

“To be fair I never got any of the other symptoms,” Buck shrugs. “I wasn’t nauseous, my feet never swelled, I don’t remember any weird cravings? And you said it yourself, I didn’t really gain all that much weight.”

Eddie leans down to kiss Buck’s forehead. “You should be on that show.” he grins.

Buck tilts his head.

“You know the one, the one Hen made us watch when work was slow that one time. ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant’.” he teases.

Buck groans. “I regret all the jokes I made at the time. I totally get those people now. Pregnancy is weird.”

Christopher rests his head more comfortably against Bucks chest and smiles softly. “Yeah, but now our family’s even bigger.”

#mpreg #911 fox #i didn't know i was pregnant #i love that show #lol #ask #ficlet #writing #buddie #established relationship #buck #eddie #christopher #family

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elsewhereuniversity · 4 years ago

Text

rescue mission

It’s been five weeks and two days since Fake Dana was kil- disappeared and Real Dana came back. I didn’t know exactly what would happen to me should I complain about it to anyone but the dean, so I was laying low, but… the recent discovery of my roommate’s skin being a bright shade of green changed some of my plans.

When I told him - Threeox - about Real Dana murdering Fake Dana, and now living invisibly on the campus (I’d never seen her again), he sighed, locked the door and windows, before making me sit on the floor between our beds and getting out a small wooden key out of a seemingly lidless box made of shimmery dark brown wood. The box was amazingly carved, so much so that looking at it too long made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes not to faint as the patterns on the lid started to sway as to a sharp breeze.

“Threeox, what’s that about ?” I asked, a little confused - and a whole lot scared.

That was probably not my smartest move - Threeox doesn’t talk per se, he just… gets his point across in a remarkable way that I had yet to pin down. A series of drawings of a cat with five eyes and a full ten minutes of interpretative dancing later, I kind of gathered that Fake Dana was trapped in the mirrors in the North Dorm, and couldn’t get out because of all the iron.

Naturally, I tried to organise a rescue mission, but gathering partners proved difficult. Real Dana apparently gained quite a reputation among the Student Witches, and everyone kept looking at me weirdly when I asked where Fake Dana was and if we could, like, rescue her maybe ? No one wanted to talk to me for more than two minutes, fidgeting uncomfortably and asking me if I’d packed my suitcase yet. I wasn’t going anywhere without Fake Dana, but hey, who am I to contradict the masses ? I’d just have to lay low a little longer.

It started on rocky grounds but I did gather for this mission a few seniors, all knights that had a history of being kind(er) to the Changelings, even though I’d never heard of them before. Their names were Toll, Bell and Eulogy, which - okay, some of us have weird names, but… It’s not that hard to pick a happy one. I couldn’t quite remember what mine was now but people had no trouble remembering me when I talked to them, so I assumed that was fine.

Add to the knights a freshman, EXO. Freshmen are probably a bit too young and frightened for that, but the fearless EXO wasn’t, uh, exactly a freshman ? Freshperson ? They were at least two metres tall and they had that look in their eyes that told you not to mess with them or they’d do unspeakable things that I, well, couldn’t speak of. Just know they were good for stuff like this. Or so I assumed, since they were the one who brought the knights to my bi-weekly “Where is Fake Dana” search.

We got some supplies: the baseball bat Fake Dana hid under my bed that one night the dean decided to do a room check, a good couple teaspoons of charcoal, some rags, a freaking battleaxe that Toll swooshed around like it weighed nothing, and that one river rock the archivist kindly lent us, and we departed for the wild wild north. Midnight seemed an appropriate time.

The dorm looked fancy, not gonna lie, the iron structure glimmered and almost rippled under the moonlight. I felt EXO shiver as we entered, their eyes losing any life that they might have had, their skin getting that weird greenish hue it didn’t have just moments before. The knights also shivered, but that might have been the cold.

The entrance was deserted, no sign of life save for a calico cat who meowed at us and tried to eat my shoelaces. She promptly departed when I told her they were a gift from the president, though I didn’t specify which president. It was the president of the cross-stitching club I was in in middle school, and she, uh, suffered from a slight eye issue after she looked through my hagstone. I mean, I did warn her about seeing the Nethers through the hole, but she didn’t listen.

Anyways, enough of that. Toll started to hack at the nearest door with his axe, waking up the poor unsuspecting students living there. “Where the fuck is she ?”, I asked, peeking around Toll’s shoulders. The two girls looked at each other, at Toll’s axe, at each other again, and one of them ended up spitting out “Basement. Third door to the left. Hope you die a slow, painful death, girl, you deserve it.”

Eulogy, true to her name, sang a few verses in Tamil, and we all collected our spirits before walking towards the basement. The iron in the walls seemed to sing to the beat of our steps, the doors creaking to the rhythm of our breaths. EXO seemed paler and paler under the dimmed overhead lights, until Eulogy sprayed us all with what I can only assume is water from that Wishing Well we’re not exactly supposed to talk about. That seemed to calm us down a little. I squeezed EXO’s hand when they looked at me questioningly, my smile thin and eyes dulled by fatigue. I couldn’t sleep that well since Fake Dana was gone, so I just wanted this to be over with already.

The third door was cracked open, but no sounds emanated from behind the heavy iron and the weird, Tolkien-inspired words of advice in elvish. I could recognise “The way is shut, and the Dead keep it”, which wasn’t even the full correct quote. The door swayed to an invisible breeze and it opened way too silently for something made of rusty metal. As we went down the stairs, we could hear the stone crackle with contained electricity, so much so that Toll, Bell and Eulogy decided to stay up to guard our backs. EXO grit their teeth but didn’t stop, grabbing Toll’s axe on the way.

“Good luck, bro, and good riddance, you girl,” Eulogy waved, and the three knights were gone as if they were never here. I wondered what she meant by that, but I couldn’t ask in time. EXO gestured to the stairs, mouth shut tight. I was kind of getting tired of everyone telling me I should leave, so I hoped at least Fake Dana would help with that. Hadn’t I been working so hard to rescue her ?

At the bottom of the narrow stairs were two doors, also made out of metal, and what Threeox told me about - the mirror.

Ten feet tall, circled with iron chains, the metal behind the glass pane was reminiscent of clouds, though it was most likely silver. I could see a prostrate silhouette in the bottom right corner, faint tremors running through her whole body, sobs muffled, whimpers of pain spread between fits of coughing.

I yelled something I couldn’t really understand, a guttural sound that made her raise her head, and I saw Fake Dana’s eyes grow wide as she recognised me.

“Missed me ?” She smiled, teeth sharp.

My throat went tight as she started to slam her fists against the glass. “It’ll be okay soon. I promise,” I said, examining the lock keeping the iron chains together.

“Hey, move, I’ll take care of it,” a voice I pinned on EXO whispered in my ear. “Tell her to stand back.”

I did so, and Fake Dana retreated to the far side of the mirrorspace. With three swipes of his axe, EXO managed to hack away most of the chains, and the rest I hastily discarded, fists pounding on the glass as Fake Dana pounded back.

“The key. The lock.”

“Fuck.” I started rummaging through my satchel, finally finding the small piece of wood that has slithered into the bag of crackers I keep for the crows. “Where is that fucking lock ?”

EXO gestured to the back of the mirror and helped me turn it around, their skin starting to sea as they kept pushing the metal. They eventually managed to shift it enough that I could wrestle my arm in and fit the key into an oddly shaped keyhole.

The back of the mirror started glowing a pale green before cracking open, revealing a room barely large enough to fit Fake Dana. Tears welling up in my eyes, I did my best to extract her without causing her too much damage until she finally made it out to the other side.

“Friend,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you ! Thankfully Threeox helped, and there’s - look,” I continued, turning back to face my rescue team, forgetting it was only me and EXO now.

They were smiling, too, and they gestured at the stairs. I understood what they meant - out.

I turned to Fake Dana again, still somewhat relieved to see her dry her tears and gracefully get up without giving me the time to offer help. She smiled like nothing was wrong. I followed her up the stairs and into the hall, her naked feet sizzling and leaving angry red marks on the floor, probably due to the iron dust covering every inch of the place. EXO swung the the front door open, touching the iron pane with a quickly blistering hand, and as I looked at them more closely, I couldn’t help but mouth “Threeox”.

“Oh shit, right, come here !” Fake Dana grabbed my face with both her hands, her palms wet with leftover tears and blood, the feel of them sending shivers down my spine. She spat in my eyes like she’d done before, and suddenly the night became less bright, her skin less pale, EXO’s features morphing into the face of my roommate, skin going from that red I’d been kinda surprised about, to the vibrant green that the cat warned me about.

Toll, Bell and Eulogy were nowhere to be seen. I started wondering if I’d dreamed about them, if they were ever here at all. Their names had stuck in my mind and once again I wondered what mine was. I know Sizzle, my roommate, was quite upset before shoving me out of the room - which room was that again ? 17 ? 23 ? I forgot.

Fake Dana interrupted my thoughts with a light shove on my arm. “You can leave, now, you’ll remember who you are soon. It’s okay, it’s done.”

“What’s done ?” I tried to ask, but my eyelids suddenly became so heavy I had trouble keeping them open.

The last thing I heard were guttural sounds, so unlike Fake Dana’s voice, and a wet caress on my back.

I woke up on this train a few moments ago. I don’t know where it’s going, except from “Far away” and “Not where I came from”. My suitcase is filled with all my belongings, except the iron jewellery I acquired during my two years as Elsewhere U. And as I look at the landscape we are zapping by, I do not recognise the streets nor the trees.

The only thing keeping me from falling asleep again is the sticky red liquid pouring out of my nose, making me curse out loud as I scramble for a handkerchief. The blood stops flowing after a while, and I catch my reflection in the window across me.

I have several streaks of white hair, the contrast sharp with my otherwise dark brown ponytail. My eyes are bloodshot and I have blood caked on my face in the shape of hands. My skin is pale, my eyes gleam a quickly fading red.

I remember it now. My name is Dana.

#hazblogs #rescue mission #stories #long post #dana #exo #threeox #fake dana #mirrors #submission

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sunsetcurvecuddles · 3 years ago

Note

10. Is something wrong?" And 11. “Is there anything I can do to help?” For boggie or rebuke

hey you know how i just sent you the mystery rebuke fic? yeah it turns out it was your ask that prompted it. anyway here you go apparently all i can write is rebuke cuddles on the studio couch.

you're the swimmer with pockets of stones | rebuke | G | 2.3k

ao3 link in reblogs!

Bobby doesn't mean to let it show during practice. Usually, he's pretty good at keeping all this stuff under the surface, smoothed and hidden, layered over with a mixture of standoffishness and charm that tends to turn people in the other direction than whatever's going on for him internally.

Concerningly, he might be getting close enough to the boys that they can start to tell. This wasn't his intention, initially — the music thing has always been about gaining a reputation, some sort of following, maybe getting famous one day, and he really does believe in the music Luke Patterson writes, thinks it could really get them somewhere. But he didn't necessarily intend to get to know the members of the band like he has. Didn't expect for one of them to move into his studio, for sure,

It's not like he wasn't intending on getting to know them at all . It's just that he didn't anticipate how quickly Reggie would tilt his head, narrow his eyes, and ask, "Is something wrong?" when Bobby misses his entry spot for the fourth time in a row.

"No," Bobby barks, and it's a little sharp. Alex and Luke both give him equally sharp glares back. They all know they don't talk to Reggie like that. Immediately, Bobby amends, "Sorry, Reg. Just scattered today. Not your fault."

Not your fault . The mantra of apologising to Reggie. Swallowing and trying to take it on board (Bobby can see it, can see Reggie telling himself that it's okay, that Bobby didn't mean it, that not everything is his fault, that's why they always remind him, that everything's okay, over and over, because all these things show very easily on Reggie's face when you know where to look for them and how to read them) Reggie says lightly, "Yeah, no worries."

"We can try something else?" Alex suggests carefully, tone still crystal in a way that lets Bobby know he’s fucked up but Alex is choosing to let it slide. "Luke said he wanted to go over Long Weekend again before the gig on Friday."

"That's a good idea," Luke agrees. "We're more familiar with that one and besides, I just sorta wanted to see how this new song sounds out loud. We won't have it ready for Friday."

They totally could have it ready for Friday. Bobby knows he's being the weak link here.

So he tries extra hard for Long Weekend . Really does his best to nail all the timing, all the pitch, throws in a few improvisational notes just to make Luke grin over at him, delighted and surprised, because Luke might seem like a control freak but he actually loves to collaborate more than anything else in the world.

It just sucks that the rest of the rehearsal can't go as well as that does. Bobby fades in and out, his eyes scramble the music on the page, and before he knows it, Luke is calling things off, saying they can catch up tomorrow, that this isn't going to work itself out tonight, clearly .

It stings a little, but Luke's not wrong. Bobby, master of keeping his face neutral, can barely keep his eyes open even though he knows they're lying to him, even though he knows that he's going to be stuck wide awake the moment he lays his head back against anything and tries to sleep, because that's how it's been for weeks now.

The Mercers never let Alex stay over any more, not since he came out (and it sucks, and Bobby kinda hates them even though he and Alex aren’t all that close), so he packs up his sticks and the homework books he'd left scattered in the corner ready to head home. Alex says his goodbyes mostly like normal, though his eyes linger on Bobby, narrow and a little too insightful for Bobby’s liking.

Bobby replies, and to his own ears he sounds pretty normal, which is why he doesn't understand when Reggie and Luke exchange glances over the top of Bobby's head as soon as Alex is gone.

“What’s gotten into you, man?” Luke asks, ditching his guitar in favour of sitting cross-legged on top of the table in the centre of the room, across from where Bobby sits on the couch. “You’ve been acting kinda weird for a while, but this is a new level of weird.”

“I’m fine,” Bobby grits out. He feels cornered, the way that Luke is sitting there, and Reggie’s hovering awkwardly between Bobby and the door, hands behind his head, probably stretching out his fingers if Bobby knows him well enough, which he does.

How did he end up knowing them so well? And why are they pushing so hard to find out what’s going on with him? He hates this conversation. He wants it to be over.

He wants to sleep.

“Dude,” says Reggie quietly, “you weren’t acting like yourself at all today. Like, yourself is always a little weird,” he says, like a joke, but he looks a little scared, like he might be stepping over the line. But it’s Reggie, so Bobby allows it.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to us about it,” adds Luke hopefully. “We’re your friends.”

“Right,” Bobby says, rubbing his eyes, “because you’re so honest with us about everything, is that it?”

“Well – hey, that doesn’t seem fair,” Reggie interrupts, tone a little protective. “We’re not talking about Luke right now. If we want to stage a Luke-tervention later, we can, but—”

“A what?” Luke says, baffled.

“Like an intervention,” Reggie explains, in an exasperated tone, like this really should be obvious, “but for you.”

“Oh,” says Luke, nodding like that actually did clear it up.

They’re idiots. Bobby wishes they weren’t making him smile. Maybe he’s just delirious. He listens to them banter for a few more minutes and feels himself slipping, feels the way the room is spinning a bit around him. Knows he won’t be able to sleep, feels it in the ache in his body, but it hurts anyway, how bad he wants it. How much he wants to be able to reach behind the veil and pull the sleep to him, pull it over him like a blanket.

His bandmates are suddenly on either side of him, like they’re ready to catch him if he falls, Reggie’s voice cautious as he says, “Bobby? You good, man? You looked woozy for a sec.”

"Tired," is all Bobby manages. His voice comes out a little strangled.

"Yeah," says Luke, in a sort of punched-out voice that makes Bobby think Luke understood more than Bobby meant him to. “We know.”

How do they know? Bobby hasn’t told them. He hasn’t told anyone. It’s just been him and his empty room and the ceiling staring back down at him for hours, until he gives up, gets up and switches the lights on and tries to read, tries to write music, tries to do anything. Though honestly, lately he’s been too tired even for that. Too exhausted and frantic to do anything but stare at the roof and wish it would fall on him and knock him out, send him down into the black lake of sleep where he so desperately wants to drown. But he hasn’t told Luke or Reggie about any of that.

"We want to help, man," Reggie continues, almost painfully earnest and sweet, "Is there anything we can do?"

Bobby shakes his head no before he's even let himself process Reggie's words, because help and Bobby are only things that go together when Bobby's doing the helping, not the other way around.

Without even opening his eyes, Bobby feels Luke push Bobby's arm up so Luke can snuggle up against his side, resting his cheek on Bobby's shoulder, stubborn and warm and soft. Seemingly following his initiative, Reggie loops himself around Bobby's other side, a little gangly but just as safe, tucking Bobby's head under his chin instead.

"Does this make it better?" Luke asks, in a small voice. Bobby feels his throat move, the vibrations of his voice. "Or, uh, or worse?"

Bobby goes to say neither, to say, it doesn't matter, to say, you guys will sleep better without me here taking up all this space . To say, I should go to my own room . But he doesn't say any of those things, because having them so close and warm around him is sorta making him want to cry, in a really weird, horrible, overflowing way, like he's a bathtub filling up with tears and they're reaching his throat, not too far from reaching his eyes.

"Better," Reggie decides for him. Takes the weight off his shoulders. "C'mon, Luke, let's go to bed. Bobby can just lie here until he feels better."

Luke makes an affirmative sound, pulls the blanket back up over the three of them, and Bobby feels like he's sinking deep in his own achy, exhausted body, like he's finally letting it overcome him, like suddenly instead of being the bathtub, he's just in one, and he's letting his head slip under the water, letting it engulf him. Reggie runs a hand through Bobby's hair, light and gentle, and Bobby sinks deeper. Luke wraps an arm around Bobby's stomach, fingers squeezing at Bobby's waist, and Bobby sinks deeper.

Instead of lying awake for hours until his eyes burn and his teeth ache, he's asleep without being sure when it happens.

—

When he wakes, Reggie and Luke pushed in on either side of him still, wrapped even more tightly than he remembers them being the night before, he feels unbelievably light, even with their weight pressing in all over him. He feels like his eyelids weigh ten pounds less than they did the day before, even as his body succumbs to being part of the couch cushions, even as a yawn pulls at the edge of his mouth and suggests to him that maybe, they try to sleep for just a few more minutes.

—

Bobby wakes again when the sun starts to spill in properly through the garage window at the back, illuminating the studio and casting their instruments into bright colours and dark shadowy relief across the floor. This time, he's only being restrained by all four of Luke's limbs, somehow, like their genius songwriter has decided to abandon his pursuit of music for the better pursuit of fully transforming into a koala bear. For a few moments, blinking and looking around, Bobby can't see Reggie anywhere.

It doesn't really alarm him, though. It's not like there's anyone else around, and Reggie's always been an earlier riser than him or Luke, more spritely than the rest of them. Luke’s still snoring, has drooled a tiny bit on Bobby’s t-shirt. Bobby should probably be more grossed-out by it than he is.

Before he can start to theorise about where, exactly, Reggie might have gone, he’s already returning, nudging the door open with his hip because his arms are full. He gives Bobby a big grin, as usual far too awake for the hour (Bobby doesn’t think he’s been that awake at any hour, recently).

“Aw, man. I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer, but… I brought us breakfast?”

Reggie must have gone up to the house, which means he probably would have had to talk to Bobby’s parents, at least his mom. Bobby’s stomach twists in embarrassment at the thought, not of Reggie, but of his mom, her scattered workaholic brain probably so far from being able to handle a conversation with a sweet kid like Reggie first thing in the morning. But still, Reggie’s carrying plates that have toast and jam, and he’s got a big bottle of orange juice, and he looks so proud of himself, like a little kid with a picture they want you to put on the fridge.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bobby says, his voice still hoarse from sleep, but sounding better than it did at any point yesterday. He must have gotten more sleep just last night than he did in the five nights beforehand.

“I know,” says Reggie brightly, setting the plates and bottle down on the table across from the pullout, “but that’s what friends are for, right?”

Huh. Friends. That’s one way to put it, Bobby guesses. In his head they’ve just been – bandmates, always, but – he guesses if Luke and Reggie are snuggling up to him overnight, hanging out at his place on days when they’re not doing music, if Reggie’s casually chatting to his mom –

Maybe they are friends.

He looks down at the toast. Reggie’s spread the jam almost neurotically evenly, but on one piece he’s drawn a wonky smiley face, with two circle eyes and a big stripe of jam in a curve that mirrors their band logo for the smile. It looks vaguely demented, but Reggie grins and points and says, “That one’s for you. So you’ll be in a better mood today.”

Luke yawns, stretches and wriggles, squishing Bobby a little bit in the process with his warm limbs. Bobby looks from one to the other, from Reggie’s face to Luke’s body curled up against him, and suddenly his stomach is full of something that’s a little more concerning than just the sense of being friends unexpectedly. Something different.

Bobby sighs a breath out quietly to try and shake off the feeling, and Reggie grins, like he gets something, which is nerve wracking until he says, “You don’t wanna move, right? I can feed you so you don’t have to get up!”

Honestly, Bobby would really rather Reggie didn’t, after the possibly concerning revelation he had moments ago, so he shoves Luke maybe a little harder than he needed to, ignores Luke’s startled yelp, even though it makes him want to laugh and the want to laugh makes the fluttery feeling come back to his stomach. Rather than laughing, or showing any of his feelings, Bobby just mutters, getoffme , and sits up to grab a piece of toast. He'll deal with everything else after breakfast.

(He takes the smiley face piece. He’s not a monster).

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #rebuke #reggie peters #luke patterson #bobby wilson #sunset curve #ask

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO “At All Costs.”

Sorry I didn’t get this one to you yesterday. it required me to read and listen to a bunch of Apollo 11 transcripts and watch more than a few videos to pretend to know what I was doing. So I hope you like it :)

“Did you know that if Apollo 11 Rocket were to explode, that explosion would have the force equal to a small nuclear weapon?”

Captain Richards turned his head inside the confined suit barely able to see the Admiral where he sat, “Serious?”

“Yeah serious.”

“No, I mean are you really talking about the Saturn V exploding when we are, and I might add, in an exact replica of the Saturn V.”

The man shrugged, though it was a difficult gesture to make out in his massive space suit, “Just making small talk.”

Captain Chavez piped up from his other side, her voice strange and tiny over the absolutely ancient radio setup, “Let's hear it Admiral, give us more Apollo 11 facts.”

Richards groaned though it was all in good fun.

“Up to that point the Saturn V was the most powerful rocket ever created, of course compared to the most powerful space ship ever created, The Omen, it can barely rocket it’s way out of a paper bag, but at the time it was a masterwork of engineering. As tall as a skyscraper it requires 4,578,000 lbs of fuel and 7.5 million pounds of thrust. It is 363 feet tall and weighs around 6.2 million pounds. Oh also the UN president will likely have two speeches already prepared, one if we survive and one if we die horrifically.”

“Why did you have to add the horrific part.” Richards wondered

Chavez laughed from the other side of the rocket.

He really was flying with two absolute psychos.

Chavez adjusted herself in her seat, “Hey, Admiral, is it true you survived the vacuum of space… what does that feel like?”

“Yep 12 seconds or less of pure unadulterated terror, and let me tell you it does not feel great. Ruptured blood vessels, severe dehydration etc etc.”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

The other two laughed at him.

***

“All ready for go, engineering?”

“Not yet, command, still working on it.”

“Just let us know when you are ready. Try to make it quick.”

Jade snorted, “I would rather have late astronauts than dead ones, mission control.” Her bluntness seemed to have shut them up for the moment, and she stepped up to examine the outside of the rocket once again.

It was then that she heard footsteps approaching and turned to see the strange starborn returning with a large blue shape in tow. The Drev was a good two feet taller than she was with carapace the color of a bright blue sports car. It jogged up, large silver/white spear in one hand, “What Can I do.”

She held out the little sample of tape the starborn had taken from the ship, “We found this covering a loose bolt in one of the ship panels. It isn’t heat resistant so it would burn up on exit and cause the panel to tear lose.”

The Drev nodded before she could even finish, “Causing it to go into a spin.”

Jade paused then nodded, “yes.”

“So sabotage.”

“It seems so.”

The Drev didn’t look surprised and just simply nodded, “Do we call off the launch.”

“This is an easy fix, and would have been the easiest way to sabotage the rocket in the first place. Everything else is monitored too heavily and tested too heavily to allow for it, but I am going to need your eyes. I only noticed because of the reflective properties of the tape as compared to the paint. WIth your eyes I might be able to find anything else.”

The Drev nodded and stepped back slightly, her head tilted up as she looked at the rocket. “Give me some time, and I am sure I can find them all. Just name the places where a panel tear will be the most catastrophic, and let me know as those will be the first places I should look.”

Jade nodded glancing back at the mission control building.

Her heart hammered inside her chest. She hadn’t intended for things to go this far, but they had. She was caught up in something she didn’t want to be caught up in.

The Drev handed a camera to the starborn, “Go, and make it quick.”

“Of course your royal highness.” He said, though he didn’t waste time as he grabbed the camera and floated back into the air.

****

“Chairwoman?”

She lifted her head turning to examine one of her assistants as they jogged over to stand next to her. She leaned her head down as he stood to whisper to her, using a dialect in their language which was difficult to read using translation equipment, “The launch has been delayed.”

She lifted her head slightly in mild surprise, “Delayed, why would it be delayed?”

He bowed his head, “It sounds like one of their engineers was slow in finishing up their final check.” he leaned in a little closer, “However, I saw the Saint heading over there just a few minutes ago.”

The chairwoman felt her insides churn with worry and anticipation, “Do you think they found something.”

“They might have, I don’t know.”

“Should we send someone over….”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to play our hand yet. We still have options if things go wrong.”

He nodded his head again and stepped away as one of the humans walked closer, “My apologizes chairwoman, the launch has been delayed a few minutes, but everything should be on track soon.”

She nodded tightly though her insides chured.

“Carry on.” She said, dismissing the human and watching him go after a few moments.

***

“What is taking so long.”

“Madam president, it looks like the engineers haven't finished their final checks yet.”

She tapped her nails against the lectern, “Is there any way to speed them up? They have been working on this for years now.”

\The service member looked a little taken aback stepping away slightly, “I…. well no ma’am if something were to happen during the launch because it was overlooked-”

She cut him off and waved him away as she looked over towards the distant rocket, white against the distant skyline.

Inside she was nervous. Something could go wrong at any minute, and more was likely to go wrong the longer they waited. She had to force herself to take a deep breath though. Things would be fine, they had backup plans in place in case something failed. Everything was going to work out.

Still this was Admiral Vir they were talking about.

***

Eris pushed her way gently through the crowd listening to the voices that flooded in all around her. She didn’t usually like crowds, too many voices all at once, but today they hardly bothered her, and she sifted through them like a machine, coming through their thoughts, looking for anything suspicious, anything she could use, anything she could find. She had been ordered by Conn and Sunny to look for someone who knew something about the outside of the ship, which had been tampered with, and so she did inching closer and closer through the halls and towards mission control. She wanted to know if any of them knew something.

No one looked twice at her as they rushed up and down the halls. But then again every time someone tried to notice her, she would turn their thoughts in a different direction. It was not a trick she used very often, but being half starborn and half human had melded and given her the odd ability to influence people’s thoughts as well. It allowed her to go places she wouldn’t have otherwise been allowed.

She pulled her hoodie closer to the sides of her head and paused outside the door allowing the voices and thoughts to well around her, searching for that one threat d that was out of place. She sensed excitement, nervousness, accomplishment. Every mind she sifted through there was nothing to indicate sabotage. These people were genuinely excited and scared about what they were doing. For many of them it was the most exciting day of their lives feeling much the same way that Adam did about what they were doing. She pulled back from the door frowning.

Well, if she couldn’t get the truth from them, she was going to have to get close to the one person she knew was involved.

The chairwoman would know if there were any other issues, as she was the one who had ordered the sabotage.

Eris turned on her feet and began to run.

“Countdown begins in ten minutes.” She heard over the intercom.

Shit, she hadn’t thought it was going to begin so soon.

Eris raced outside pausing on the edge of the balcony as she stared down at the crowd. With her bad knees, it was going to take her forever to get down those stairs….. Of course there was one option.

She grimaced at the thought, but then reminded herself that it was either that or a dead Adam.

Eris quickly pulled off her hoodie draping it over one arm and feeling the starborn ribbons uncoil and fall down around her back. A few of them were long enough to trail on the ground behind her. The open back of her shirt exposed the ribbons to the sun overhead warming her up and making her feel exhilarated.

She reached down to her belt to engage the gravity field before taking a long, deep breath. Ribbons billowed up around her from behind catching the light of the sun. She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the balcony and then, with the gravity field engaged, she dropped. Her ribbons flared out from behind her, and she was given a sudden strange sensation, and as she played with that sensation she felt herself coasting forward on some unknown power. She floated over the heads of those below, slowly coming down at an angle.

Fingers pointed up at her as she went and she did her best to ignore them as she came to a stop at the edge of the crowd. The people stared at her wide eyed as she gathered up her ribbons and quickly pulled her hoodie back on, ducking into the crowd and elbowing her way through up towards the stage where the chairwoman and the Un president sat.

She was so close.

She could sense.

Eris froze in horror.

***

“That’s it, that’s the last one.”

“Four, seems like a good number, and all on the same panel. If they had put them anywhere else it would have caused suspicion as to why the entire ship tore apart.”

Conn floated down from above and handed off a fistfull of silvered tape.

She reached up to her mic, “mission control you are going for launch, I repeat, you are go for launch.”

The Drev and the Starborn floated after her, joining her in the small jeep as they rolled away from the base of the rocket.

****

“Four minutes and counting we are go for Apollo 11

“Apollo 11's launch operations manager wishes you good luck.”

“ Thank you, we’ll do their memory proud.”

“That’s three minus and 25 seconds in counting. We are still going at this time.”

“T minus 1 minute and 54 ten seconds and counting oxidizer tanks on the second and third stages have pressurized.”

“T minus one minute 35 seconds on the Second Apollo 11 mission flight to remember the first men who stepped foot on the moon.”

“T minus sixty second and counting.”

“Admiral Vir reports that the countdown is going smoothly.”

“Power transfer is complete.”

“All second stage tanks now pressurized.”

“T minus fifteen seconds and counting guidance is internal.”

“12 11 10 9 Ignition sequence starts 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 all engines running.”

A massive wave of fire rolled from the underside of the rocket spilling out onto the ground around it in smoke and flames as the scaffold holding the rocket in place detached against the roaring power of the rocket.

“Liftoff, we have liftoff, Tower clear.”

The rocket spears it’s way into the sky leaving smoke and fire behind it. For a moment it is obscured by smoke before cutting through and piercing the blue canopy of sky above.

***

Adam rocked in his seat pressed backwards by what felt like hundreds of pounds of force against his chest. The rocket vibrated and rolled around him until it was almost impossible to see with his eyes being jarred inside his head. He was mostly defensive, it was, admittedly like nothing he had ever experienced. He was used to smooth transitions in darkfriars and spaceships, but this…., this was something altogether different. His heart hammered as they went higher and higher, the roaring from the fire licking the windows outside clear as they shook their way through the lower and then upper atmosphere. The communications clicked on and off as he kept in contact with ground control below when it was possible, his body rattling a little as he tried to remain steady.

The sky was darkening above him from eggshell blue to that familiar blue black.

“Apollo 11 this is Huston, you are going for staging.”

His hands felt like the bones were going to rattle out of his knuckles. He had never experienced a launch this intense before.

“ll, this is Houston. Roger. You're (0 from the ground at 7 minutes. Level sense arm at 8 plus 17; outboard cut-off at 9 plus Il.”

“Roger.”

They were getting higher.

“Staging, and ignition.”

“Apollo 11, this is Houston. Predicted cut-off at ll plus 42. Over.”

“Shutdown.”

***

The rocket lifted into the sky and she craned her head back to watch it go roaring as it was carried upward on a pillar of flames. Her hand reached down stroking the red folder that lay just under her fingers.

“Tilt nominal.”

She held her breath tight, her chest pounding and watched as it went up and up and up.

No disturbances. Her hands gripped the side of the lectern turning her head to one of the agents who nervously glanced back. She nodded and he rushed away. Her hands were clammy.

“Come on, she muttered.”

***

Chairwoman of the GA kept her eyes locked on the flying deathtrap as it was hauled into the air, come on come on she thought to herself as it rose higher and higher. She turned her head to one of her men who nodded quickly and then rushed off. Smoke filled the valley below them.

***

They had dropped the first stage, and Richards hands were sweaty despite the water wicking gloves under his suit. He was communicating back and forth with mission control when he watched in horror as Admiral Vir cut off communications with ground control. They were in space now and earth was beginning to fold out before them on either side.

“What are you doing.” He hissed in near panic

The Admiral ignored him, keying the coms one more time.

“Red, this is Apollo 11.”

Richards sat in shock as an unknown voice responded over the line, “Is that you in that bucket of bolts cinderella?”

The man’s voice sounded like he was smiling, “yep it’s me, keep your men on standby red, we made it out of atmosphere, but I don’t trust them to let me make it out of orbit.”

“Copy that your highness.”

Richards glanced out the window, watching as a sleek racing jet pulled into formation just outside the window of their rocket. It was so close to them that he could see the silhouette of the driver in the cockpit beyond reminding him that….. Despite the feeling of their rocket. They weren’t as alone as those astronauts had been originally.

The admiral suddenly flipped the mike back

“Apollo 11 this is Huston, DO YOU COPY.”

“Huston this is Apollo 11, sorry comms went out for a second, got them fixed.”

“Roger, don’t scare us like that.”

***

The UN president turned her head down, caught suddenly by the feeling of being watched. Off to her side the Chairwoman was still staring into the sky, but slowly lowered her head as if she felt it too.

She looked down surprised to find a figure staring at them, instead of staring at the rocket. She was humanoid with porcelain white skin and large black eyes.

But the voice that filled the inside of her head was not her own.

“You….. It’s you.”

***

Ten remote operated Rundi drones detached from the space debris and rolled into place around the rocket.

The pilots, sitting safely inside their ships listened to instructions over the line as the chairwoman of the GA whispered.

“Keep Admiral Vir alive at all costs.”

219 notes · View notes

byunbaekby · 5 years ago

Text

Home (l.jn)

Pairing: Reader x Jeno Warnings: Language, loss of virginity, safe sex, alcohol use Summary: The story of your first love, which never truly ends for anyone. Luckily for you, Lee Jeno was the perfect first boyfriend. The struggle for you is trying to be perfect for him. Words: 11.6k

You had a thing for perfection.

It was something that had been ingrained into you from the moment you were born, to an entrepreneur mother and a father who was a cardiac surgeon. As soon as you could walk, you were placed in dance classes and trained from that moment on. You had practically tried every playable club sport in Korea. In addition to these demanding extracurriculars, your parents also expected school to remain your top priority.

It was a tiring life, trying to be perfect. But even so, even you yourself had learned to never settle for anything less than.

The way you meet Lee Jeno is perfect.

It was a rare weekend off for you, without swim practice or dance rehearsal to attend or an upcoming test to study for. You wanted to do something, free from the restraints and stresses of your overworked life—rarely were you ever able to simply let loose and enjoy the short vacation from school allotted by the weekend.

That is how you find yourself walking arm in arm with your best friend Heejin down the trails of the town’s harvest festival, an annual weekend-long celebration to welcome the oncoming Halloween holiday. There were booths manned by the local businesses, contests with sizable prizes, and games for the children to partake in.

As you tread down the pathway with your best friend in tow, you close your eyes and take a slight whiff, relishing in the smell of nature and the breeze against your shoulders. One could never appreciate the idyllic simplicity of life until they were too busy to even breathe. “You really should get out more, babe. I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” you hear your best friend saying, her attention turned to the nearby booth selling churros.

“You say that like it’s a choice, Heej.” You retort quickly, a simpering smile at your lips despite the fact that you know it actually is: it is simply you who overloads yourself with work.

“No, it’s not, not with you and your busybody ways,” she replies with a laugh, tugging you along. “I just.. miss my best friend sometimes.”

You sigh, a sharp juxtaposition to the festive mood of your surrounding environment. “I know. I miss you too, Heej. But.. we’re here, right? Let’s enjoy our time together!” Your response brings a grin over your best friend’s lips and immediately she nods, glad to have you back.

The two of you spend the next hour filling your stomachs with sugary treats and playing games intended for children age ten and below. The hour is filled with laughs and grateful glances at your best friend, having been too long since the first time in a long time that you had experienced such carefree joy.

You’re once again sauntering through the pathways of the festival when you hear Heejin’s whispered voice in your ear: “Dude, hottie at three’o’clock in the pumpkin patch. Look at him!”

Your best friend had always been a bit boy-crazy. So, you laugh and turn your attention in that direction, your grin dissipating as your gaze falls upon likely the most attractive male you’ve ever seen.

You catch him mid-laugh, so his smile is the first blessing you witness. Teeth bared in a wide smile, his eyesmile is enough to make you melt, and you feel an overwhelming desire to match his smile. Once you get over your initial shock at the beauty of his smile, you’re able to take in the remainder of his appearance. His hair is dark, shaggy as it falls over his eyes slightly. He has a lanky build, though you can see the slight outline of muscled arms beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. Said t-shirt is bright orange, a typically unsightly color, and from your distance you can make out the words.

Oh, you realize. He’s a part of your town’s youth committee, dedicated to community service and other activities. This makes sense now, as you observe the way he smiles brightly while he helps a little girl pick out a pumpkin. He’s volunteering, you realize.

Your heart swells a bit, and you curse inwardly; it’s already happening.

Before you can register it, Heejin is already tugging you by the arm to the enclosed area, where families can buy pumpkins to make their own homemade jack-o-lanterns. “What are you doing?” You whisper to her in surprise as she pulls you to look at one of the many piles of pumpkins.

“Nothing,” she responds with a knowing smile, feigning interest in the pile of orange squash. “Just getting a closer look.” Not so discreetly, she lifts her head and looks over her shoulder to where Pumpkin Boy is helping the little girl and her family check out, a hefty pumpkin on the father’s shoulders.

“This is a bit too close… too obvious,” you tell her cautiously as she turns back to stare at the pumpkins of animated interest. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in boys; you rarely had time for them, so much that your past flings were barely significant at all before you were forced to break up with them for the sake of your schedule. Now, having just turned seventeen, you had never had a serious boyfriend. If anything, you were wary of boys. Especially handsome ones like him, with a smile to melt a heart.

“Okay, but would you look at him? Why can’t the guys at our school look like that?” She whines, already turning back to steal another look. “Oh- he’s gone.” Her voice is confused, and dejected. With curious eyes betraying you, you follow her line of sight to find that he has, indeed, disappeared from the table he previously occupied.

“Can I help you ladies?”

The sudden deep voice takes you by surprise, and the two of you yelp as you jump in surprise, turning back to find none other than Pumpkin Boy himself, a friendly smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says, a deep chuckle leaving his throat next. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Were you girls looking for pumpkins?”

For a moment neither of you say anything, until Heejin clears her throat and nods while trying to hide the unsettlement in her voice. “Uh, yeah, we were.. Recommendations?”

“Depends what you’re looking for,” he leans down to roll over a pumpkin, moving it into place from where it had fallen out from its display. “Small or big?”

“Small,” is her immediate reply. A small pumpkin would definitely be cheaper, and as he leans down to search for a fitting pumpkin you slap your best friend’s arm, confusion in your eyes. Was she seriously going to put down actual money just to talk to a cute boy? She was unbelievable, but that was why you loved her: where you were quiet and studious, Heejin was always upbeat and bold, something you wished more of for yourself.

Pumpkin Boy soon stands straight again, and hands a small hand-sized pumpkin over to your friend with a thoughtful gaze, as though he truly cared about the state of the pumpkins he was selling. “What do you think about this one?” Without any disagreement she takes the pumpkin from his hands, already nodding.

“Exactly what I was looking for!” She responds, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement.

Though you thought he hadn’t noticed you, Pumpkin Boy turns to you. “And for you, beautiful? A small one too?”

His direct statement catches you off guard, and you swear your eyes widen as the air leaves your lungs. Did he just.. call you beautiful? You can almost feel Heejin’s excitement from beside you. Clearing your throat to mask your shock, you nod before replying with a small voice. “S-Sure.”

Immediately he is down again, searching for another small, hand-sized pumpkin to suit you. When he crouches to do his job, Heejin turns to you with her mouth open and her eyes full of elation, as though to say “He just called you beautiful!” You can practically hear it in her voice.

He stands again, hands sporting yet another pumpkin, similar to the one Heejin currently nests in her hands. “What do you think?”

The sincerity with which he gazes at you causes you to nod. “Perfect.”

“Great!” He responds, starting to walk to the tables where you can pay for your items, your pumpkin still resting in his large hands. Though it cannot weigh more than five pounds alone, your best friend looks to you with an overjoyed look at the fact that he is carrying your pumpkin for you. “I’ll help you two ladies out at checkout then.”

You follow him to the checkout area, where he places your pumpkin on the table that he stands behind. He reads out your prices to you, and Heejin pulls out her wallet to pay first while you observe his side profile. From all angles, he is undeniably handsome.

Then he looks to you, pulling you from your nervous stupor. With quick hands you pull out a paper bill from your wallet and hand it to him, which he accepts with a polite smile.

“You’re all settled,” he tells the two of you, though he hands each of you a business card over the table, one in each hand. “I’m a part of the youth committee,” he explains as you each take the business cards from him. “We’re all in high school, and we’d love to have more members.”

With another heart-stopping smile, he thanks you for your purchase and bids you two goodbye. As the two of you exit the area with your pumpkins in hand (easily handled in only one hand), you bid a silent farewell to him, the handsome boy who you’ll likely never see again. If only, you wish, you were a bit more bold and unafraid.

Goodbye Pumpkin Boy, you think to yourself as you look over the business card in hand. Your eyes bulge at the sight as you flip over the card to the blank side: Lee Jeno :) XXX-XXX-XXXX

You can barely keep the grin off your face as Heejin nearly drops her pumpkin, screaming in joy for you.

Once you arrive home, you text him with Heejin’s encouragement.

She complains half-heartedly that you don’t seem to be nearly as excited as she is, though she congrats you with an amused smile. In fact, your excitement is greatly hidden: you had never been the friend, between the two of you, to get boys’ numbers. Now that you have, a strange feeling of happiness makes its way into your chest.

After Heejin leaves, you text him. New pet pumpkin tucked on the windowsill of your bedroom, you type his number into your phone meticulously, and send the first nervous text.

To: XXX-XXX-XXXX Hi, is this.. Jeno? I’m the girl from the festival.

You frown at the message. It is so bland, so uninteresting. Why had he been interested in you? You’re surprised, however, when your phone beeps only a minute later.

From: XXX-XXX-XXXX Hey. Yeah, it’s Jeno :)

From: XXX-XXX-XXXX Did you make it home safe?

A smile bites at your lips as you quickly type a response.

To: XXX-XXX-XXXX I did. Did you finish volunteering?

His reply is just as fast as yours, if not faster.

From: XXX-XXX-XXX Yup, we just finished putting all the pumpkins away. Heavy, those things.

You chuckle, sparing a glance to the pumpkin on your windowsill.

To: XXX-XXX-XXXX Well thank you for your hard work. I’ll appreciate my pumpkin very much.

From: XXX-XXX-XXXX I hope you do.

From: XXX-XXX-XXX Listen, I’ve got to go but I’d love to talk to you some more. I’m glad you came to the patch today.

Your mind runs over to earlier this morning, when you had greatly battled Heejin’s decision to take you to the harvest festival on your day off. Surely, you should learn to trust your best friend’s intuition more often.

To: XXX-XXX-XXX Me too. I’ll talk to you later.

From: XXX-XXX-XXX Bye :)

You lean back in your bed to suppress the shy, overjoyed shrieks that threaten to leave your mouth and despite knowing full and well that his name is Jeno, you save his number under the name Pumpkin Boy.

Over the next few weeks, you indeed learn that Lee Jeno is just as kind as his first impression.

You learn that his birthday is in late April, a few months preceding yours. Somehow he lets it slip that he too, has never been in a serious relationship. Through a thorough game of twenty questions over the phone you learn that he plays volleyball at his high school as the libero, drives a car older than him, and dislikes mint chocolate chip ice cream.

The ice cream part is enough to cause your mint-loving self to make a face, but not enough to stop your feelings from growing rapidly.

It is the first time that you have freely conversed with someone besides Heejin without inhibitions or worries. Talking to Jeno comes so easily, no second thoughts.

Though he attends a different high school than you, this doesn’t seem to hinder your conversations, and you find yourself always wanting to talk to him. He texts you good morning, and you respond. You text throughout the day between classes, and he sends you one last smile-inducing message before going into volleyball practice. You take this time to study, so that you can be free when he comes out. On days that you have rehearsal, you’re lucky that these after school practices for your dance team occur at virtually the same time as his volleyball practices.

Since your meeting you’ve met only a handful of times. You went out once, to get ice cream (which was how you came to learn of his abominable opinions about your favorite flavor). The next, he invited you to watch him play a match at his school. You had been amazed then, at how this soft kind boy turned into a focused monster on the volleyball court. Then, you had met him for lunch, while telling your parents that you were meeting up with Heejin to study.

You share your first kiss when he comes to play a volleyball game at your school.

It is after the game has finished with your school facing an embarrassing defeat, and Jeno is walking with you down the open breezeways, that he kisses you.

He presses his lips to yours softly, but not without asking for permission, at which your heart warms. Dropping his volleyball bag to the floor without second thoughts, he tilts your face slightly upward by the chin, meets your lips, and you swear your world stops.

You’ve been kissed before, but never like this. It’s overwhelmingly, in every sense of the word, perfect.

Though he pulls away after a moment, you smile with only an inch between your lips, and pull him back to you. In that moment you feel an overwhelming joy down to your bones, and a strange power at your ability to initiate your second kiss. You feel weightless, yet there is an undeniable force tethering you down. It is Jeno, himself.

You realize then, this is what first kisses are supposed to feel like.

When you finally pull away to gasp for air, you register his laughing and a quiet “Wow.”

When he walks you off campus and out to your campus, he intertwines your fingers together. Your hands slip effortlessly into each other, curling naturally as though they were made for each other.

Three months have passed since you met when you’re laying in bed with only your bedside lamp on, hands hidden in your sweater as you FaceTime Jeno.

On the other end, he is wearing a hoodie and grey sweatpants, placing you on his nightstand as he gazes at you from his bed. He props his head up with his elbow, and smiles at you as you go on and on about your day. He peers at you with full interest from over his glasses, which you’ve seen him wear only a number of times.

It’s a Sunday night, nearing 11PM, but you don’t tell Jeno that you have a calculus test you’re supposed to be studying for. For all your parents know, that’s precisely what you’re doing in your room right now. But it’s not. Rather, you’re enjoying yourself with a bright laugh as you listen to Jeno retell a joke that his friend Jaemin had made earlier in the day.

“It was a lame joke,” you tell him once he finishes, leaving you in residual giggles.

“Why are you laughing then?” He raises an eyebrow, though an amused smile makes home across his face.

“Because you’re funny.” is your quick reply, covering your mouth with your sweater-covered hands. You simply cannot help the giggles that escape your mouth, a bright sound in the dull space of your room. Jeno simply has this effect on you; with only a smile or a lame joke, he is able to turn your dreary world into a place of carefree conversation and uncontrollable laughter.

Unable to control himself at how you simply fall apart at his joke, Jeno mirrors your laughter, though the sound is much different than yours. His laugh is deep, and after months of hearing it you start to think that you could listen to him laugh forever.

“You’re so cute,” he tells you once your mutual laughter has died down. At his sudden confession, you have the decency to smile, a warm feeling of espousement spreading through your chest.

“You’re cuter,” you manage with a shy smile.

“Impossible.” If you were being honest, you were surprised at how smoothly Jeno delivered his sweet lines to you, considering his truth that he had never had a real girlfriend. It makes you smile now, thinking that perhaps like you were experiencing all these newfound emotions for the first time, he was too.

A moment of silence passes over you, though you don’t argue. You simply stare at each other, throwing strange ugly faces back and forth as you both attempt not to laugh.

You lose when he makes an irresistible face, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. Exploding into giggles, you lean back in your bed and let the laughter overcome you, though you keep it quiet so as to not alert your parents of your lack of studying.

This was what you loved about Jeno. Never once did he make you feel that you were betraying your parents, for he always managed to make you smile in response.

When you finally quiet down after a fit of laughs, Jeno’s voice is sudden: “Be my girlfriend.”

Immediately your eyes widen, and you look at him surprised. The look on his face is just as shellshocked, as though he didn’t know the words that came out of his mouth. He quickly recovers, smooth as always.

“I really like you, Y/N. I like talking to you, and making you laugh, and hearing you laugh. I like seeing you all shy in your huge sweater, and I like the way you giggle when I kiss you. I like your mind, and the way you think, and even the way you think mint chocolate chip is the best flavor when it is far from the truth.”

His mention of ice cream makes you laugh again, pulling you from your shocked state. Only Lee Jeno himself would mention ice cream in a confession.

“I really wanted to wait, until we were in person. But you’re so busy, and I know you try to make time for me but you still are. And you’re laying there, looking so cute in your sweater and laughing so adorably, and I just-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

A warm smile makes its way across your face as you hug your blanket to your chest, as though you were hugging Jeno instead. “Yes.” You say finally, watching him break out into a bright smile at your response, sporting the famous eye smile that caught your eye in the first place.

Some people desire large grand-scale confessions of love, public and outrageous. On the other hand, some people prefer such moments to be small and intimate. Most people just want their confessions to be in person, actually.

But no, you decide that Jeno’s rushed and shy FaceTime confession is the best form, and the only one you want. It was perfect, and you could not imagine anything better.

Later when you yawn too loudly and Jeno wishes you goodnight with a “goodnight my adorable girlfriend,” you change his name from Pumpkin Boy to My Boy.

Your first date after becoming official is not even a date, really.

Jeno picks you up in his car, bids a nervous hello to your parents, and drives the two of you to the local library, where the two of you plan to study for your upcoming winter finals.

With final exams breathing down your back, the only way your parents will let you out is if you promise to study. Jeno finds no problem with this, so a week after that heart-fluttering FaceTime call, you find yourself pouring over your books alongside your boyfriend.

You were still trying to get used to calling him that.

What you didn’t need to get comfortable with was Jeno’s presence. Despite the majority of your conversations happening over the phone, you felt yourself slip into a comfortable silence with him as you both opened your textbooks.

His hand rests comfortably in yours, fingers curled together as the two of you look over your study materials. The library is quiet, though filled with students.

Though you try your best to focus, it is hard to stay so whenever you think about him next to you. He is wearing another casual t-shirt from the youth committee that you never ended up joining, and dark jeans with his glasses perched on his face. Without even trying, he looks effortlessly handsome. He constantly occupies your thoughts.

“Stop staring,” he says, not looking up from his notes. You pout.

“How did you know?”

“You started rubbing your thumb over my hand and you only do that when you stop reading.” Your pout grows deeper as you continue staring at his side profile, shamelessly now.

“I didn’t realize you were paying such close attention to me,” you respond while returning to your work with a sigh. There was surely no way you were going to be able to focus on physics and calculus with him right next to you.

“Of course I was. Just not as obvious as you,” he laughs lowly, careful not to disturb the silence of the library.

“Hmph,” is your response, as you begrudgingly turn the next page of your physics textbook. Oh, how boring simple harmonic motion is in comparison to the boy sitting next to you, who you’d much rather like to put your attention on.

“You wanted to study, now focus,” he says next, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, leaving you warm with shyness. You simply don’t reply, just tightening your lips to prevent the proud smile threatening to spread across and returning your focus to your pages.

“Ah, so cute,” Jeno coos as he turns back to his textbooks.

Later when he returns you to your home he kisses you on the forehead and wishes you a quiet good luck on your exams. As he turns away and jogs back to his car, old indeed, you smile to yourself and think that this was the epitome of a great first date.

Finally summer comes, and you and Jeno are able to spend more time together.

Graduation has passed, both of you attending the other’s, and university awaits you. Though you and Jeno are attending the same university in Seoul, you know that this is the calm that awaits the storm. So, you take advantage of all the time this summer with the boy who has made his way into your heart.

Sometimes you found it difficult to comprehend that you had made it through six months in a relationship with him, given your schedules and both your lack of experience. Yes, your relationship was a ride, but you would do it all for him.

Especially now, as the two of you are connected in a liplock in his bedroom, you consider giving it all to him. Atop his bed, with him hovering over you with a kiss that makes your head spin, you feel for the first time a strong overwhelming desire.

His tongue slides over your lips and you let him in easily, these lines blurred as your tongue meets his. You’re not unaware of his hands that grip your hips, and the fervor with which he presses his body to yours. Within seconds his warmth is gone, and you pop your eyes open to find that he has pulled away to rid himself of his shirt. A smile makes its way across your face, and the shirt is long forgotten on the floor somewhere when he meets your lips once again.

Though the room is hot, you grow even warmer in the coming minutes as he presses his body to yours, your clothed cores meeting in a burning manner. Moaning into his mouth, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, begging for more friction.

He moans your name in response and groans, about to pull away. It is not the first time, after all, that the two of your have cut your makeout sessions off short.

You had discussed your virginities before, and had agreed that when the time came, it would be right. And to you, it felt right just about now.

“No,” you call out to him as he peels himself off of you and makes a move to get off the bed. Reaching to him, you grip him by the belt hook of his jeans, and pull him back atop of you.

Gaining newfound courage, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, kissing the skin. “I want you,” you moan into him before beginning to suckle on an area of skin.

You feel him tense in your hold, as though contemplating it, and he moans aloud. “Fuck, babe,” he curses as you pull away to reveal a pink spot at his neck, which will surely darken in the coming hours.

“Are you sure?” He asks, breath hot against your skin as he returns the favor, lips and teeth playing over the sensitive pallor of your neck. Yes, yes, yes. A hundred times yes.

You are sure there is nothing you’ve ever wanted more.

“Yes, Jeno,” you respond as you tilt your head back in pleasure, though it leaves your mouth as more of a moan than a reply. Not needing any further confirmation, he pulls away (getting a whine out of you) and reaches over to his nightstand, producing a condom from the drawer.

“I wanted to be prepared,” he explains sheepishly at your look.

“Whatever,” you respond, only reaching up to him to pull him back to you.

And your first time is indeed, with Jeno, all you imagined it to be.

The summer is a blessing.

Over the next few months, you are able to learn about Jeno in an entirely new way. It is almost intimate, the secrets and quirks you discover about this boy of yours.

You learn how to rile him up in a way that will surely end with him pinning you to the bed. You discover the spot on his neck that he loves you sucking on, and as he becomes increasingly daring in the progression of your sexual escapades, you come to find that no matter how rough he is in the act, he becomes the softest lover afterward.

But you also come to learn about what makes Jeno, Jeno.

You come to easily recognize the face that he makes when gaming, brows furrowed in concentration. Though he argues with you that he will watch whatever movie you want, you learn that he will almost always fall asleep in your arms whenever you turn on a chick flick rom com movie. You can’t even be mad at him, because you know he tried. As much as you told him it was okay to watch one of those action movies that he loved, he insisted on watching your movies, and that warmed your heart.

During your first sleepover, you find that Jeno likes to cuddle in his sleep. Though the victim is most often his pillow at home, it soon becomes you which he clings to in his sleep.

And when you’re not falling asleep in his arms, you do it to the careful sound of his steady breathing over the phone. It has become a routine now for the two of you, calling before bed and ultimately submitting to sleep together.

These are things that you have come to love, as much as you love Jeno.

It is what you have always desired in a relationship: the easygoing love, that didn’t ask for much. Comfortable, so much that he can tease you about how you snore and that you can smack him on the chest whenever he makes a dirty joke. So much that him in his pajamas becomes a familiar sight for you, and you learn to stop worrying over and controlling how you look around him. His love, in some ways, is like a blanket, enveloping you in all the warmth you need.

Jeno makes you comfortable, and that’s all you can ask for.

One night, in early August, you are on the phone when he says to you, “It’s 11:11, make a wish.” Instead of listening to him, you make a face which he catches over FaceTime.

“What’s with the face, missy?”

“11:11 is so.. ugly.” You respond, and he laughs, throwing his head back in that typical Jeno-style of his. Though you cannot explain any further, you get the idea that he knows what you mean.

Jeno has, of course, come to understand your affinity for perfection, and your obsession with being the best, as instilled by your parents. Therefore he understands what you mean without asking for a further explanation.

“It rubs you the wrong way, doesn’t it?” You nod. Though everyone claims it to be a magical time, you cannot help but feel that it looks off putting. Why 11:11, and not 10:10? It made more sense after all—ten was considered to be a perfect number, that’s why people say ten stars out of ten. The logic between 11:11 simply did not make sense to you.

Jeno seems to know you better than you know yourself, for he says just this. “I’m sure something like 10:10 appeals a lot more to you, huh?”

“How’d you know?” You ask, genuinely shocked as you tilt your head at him. Had you perhaps said your thoughts aloud?

“I’m your boyfriend. I know how you think,” he laughs matter-of-factly. At his laugh you pout a bit unknowingly, not sure how to feel at the revelation that he knew you just as well as you knew yourself. “Alright how about this. Let’s let the rest of the world be inferiors who make wishes at 11:11, but you and me will have our own special time. 10:10. Yeah?”

The idea is stupid, but you find yourself nodding and smiling at the same time. Warmth envelopes you once again, and you come to realize that this is love you feel for him, strong, potent, overwhelming love.

His idea was definitely stupid, but you were stupid in love with him.

The next morning you trudge your way down the stairs after staying up all night on the phone, looking for breakfast. In the midst of your preparations you hear your phone ring, so you look to it.

From: My Boy 10:10. I wish you’ll have a good day today, love.

You look up to the clock displayed on the stove and find that it is indeed that time. You’re surprised, honestly, that Jeno has managed to remember, though you shouldn’t be.

Yes, summer was a blessing and Lee Jeno was your’s.

Fall approaches quickly, signaling your impending departure from your home and toward adulthood. You are more than excited for your new university life, something you have worked toward your entire life.

And you’re more than thrilled to be doing it with Jeno beside you.

While you’re a business major and Jeno is studying kinesiology, you will be in two completely different buildings but that’s okay. The fact that you get to attend college with your boyfriend, something that you had worried about in the early stages of your relationship, is more than enough.

He helps you move into your dorm, and greets your roommate, Yerim. With his help you manage to unload the majority of your belongings, including many pictures of the two of you. Your roommate doesn’t miss the chance to point out your necklace, to which you smile. Jeno had gifted you a promise ring before the two of you left, and because you did not like the sensation of a ring on your finger, you had slid it onto a chain. It is with an admiring smile that Yerim comments, “You two must be serious.”

Yes, you are becoming an adult, and your love with Jeno has begun to mature.

What you don’t realize, is that it could mature for the worse.

College is busy, and you come to realize this.

Jeno is still playing volleyball for the school team, and his practice schedule is much more demanding than in high school. Likewise, you have joined the school’s dance team, because you simply cannot give up your first love of dancing.

You both have full school schedules atop extracurricular activities and part time jobs. So, it becomes increasingly difficult to plan dates, even study dates which had been your easy escape in high school.

Now, the two of you lay in your bed at the dorm, relishing in the rare presence of each other.

“How about Thursday, after your lecture?” He asks as he inhales your familiar scent that he had begun to miss.

“I work on Thursday from 3 to 7.”

He sighs, warm against your scalp. “Okay, how about after work?”

You make a face, though it’s hidden to him. “I have rehearsal from 8 until 11. How about Saturday?”

“I have a game.”

“Oh, right.”

“Won’t you come? You can come watch,” he says as he pulls his face neck, instead looking down at you. “It’ll be like high school again, remember?” This is said with a smile and a nudge, for he is no doubt reminiscing about your first kiss.

You have to fight to keep the displeased expression from making a home across your features. Sure, you loved watching Jeno play, for he exerted a different energy on the court. However, you had a test on Monday and could surely use all the time you had to study for it. You had been willing to give up time to spend with your boyfriend, but if you attended the game you would only be watching him. If you were only going to be watching him and unable to interact with him until after the three hour match, then you’d rather take a raincheck until you are able to be with him in person. So you tell this to him, hoping that he will understand.

He is Jeno, so of course he does. Simply offering a nod in response, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Makes sense. You should study, anyways,” he says this though he wears a disappointed smile.

“Is something wrong?” You ask as you look up to him with worry in your eyes.

“No,” he replies immediately with a shake of his head. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. Don’t worry about me. I understand, babe.”

You know he does, because that’s what he’s best at: understanding you. He always has. And so you are not surprised that when Saturday morning comes, and you’re about to turn off your phone to enter the library, you see his text.

From: My Boy 10:10. I wish you good luck on your studying and your exam, my love.

You smile at your boyfriend, ever so thoughtful, and quickly type a response back before tucking your phone away.

To: My Boy Same here. I wish you good luck on your game ♡

The first time you do think something is wrong, is when you return to your dorm a little past 10PM after studying for your upcoming finals.

It is December now, and with your first ever college finals beginning to stress you out, you had invested in a little study group. Your boyfriend had texted earlier, asking when you’d be done; you had told him seven, but it had run a couple hours over.

You are just about ready to jump in bed and text him, only to find him already sitting on your bed when you open the door.

“Jeno,” you call, surprise clearly showing across your face. His eyes are not directed at you, but rather the bag of food that sits on your desk. You can read the label perfectly; it is from your favorite restaurant, about a thirty minute drive off campus.

Had he gotten it for you, because he knew you were stressed and overwhelmed with finals? That was so sweet of him, not that you expected any less. “Did you get dinner?” You ask as you shut the door behind you, already slipping off your jacket to prepare to be in his embrace.

“You said you'd be back at seven.” His voice is tired, but still remains an edge.

It occurs now to you that he’s angry. You two have had your fair share of arguments, considering Jeno was expressive with his thoughts and you had a tendency to ignore things that upset you. He’s angry because you’re late, and you sigh.

“I know, but we got caught up studying. You know much this course has been stressing me out,” you reason with him as you open the bag, pulling out plates of your favorite meals. Though your stomach growls in pleasurable hunger at the sight, Jeno remains seated on your bed with a stern expression.

“I’ve been here for hours. Couldn’t you have left early?”

“For dinner? I was studying, and my phone was turned off. I said I’m sorry, Jeno.” You reply sharply, getting quite annoyed with his behavior. Of course it was thoughtful of him to bring you dinner when you would have just settled on ramen, but he knew how you were when you were studying. Considering that you were taking nearly twice the amount of units as him, you thought he’d understand your workload. “If you wanted to have dinner together you could have just come find me at the library.”

“No, not for dinner. For our anniversary,” he spits out bitterly, turning his gaze away from you.

That’s when it hits you.

Your mouth falls open as your gaze at him; had you… forgotten your anniversary in the midst of your school-induced craze? There was no way. You would never.

Immediately you pull out the calendar from your desk, and search for today’s date.

No fucking way.

You had… forgotten your anniversary. A year ago today, around this same time, Jeno had shyly asked you to be his girlfriend over FaceTime. You had skipped studying to talk to him, and now, you had used studying as your excuse to forget such a monumental date.

Guilt washes over you within milliseconds, and you’re grasping for him. As soon as your fingers touch his arm he stands from your bed, frustration and disappointment on his face.

“Babe-” You call him, but he cuts you off.

“No. All this time I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, thinking you’d come back with some surprise to make up for being late. But no, not only were you late, you forgot. Is your studying that important?”

You are at a loss for an answer, because you know that the immediate answer in your head will only upset him: Yes. Yes, of course your studying is your priority, as your parents made it so. But the question you had to ask yourself was, was it more important than your boyfriend?

The fact that you cannot find an answer upsets both you and Jeno.

In a moment he’s already grabbed his hoodie and turned to leave. “Eat your dinner. Happy anniversary,” he calls bitterly behind him. Within seconds, he is gone.

And you immediately scramble for your phone, looking to call him, text him, anything. You know Jeno, that he gets upset and simply needs time to cool down, so you cannot go after him. But when he calms, you know that he will look at his phone, and so you want to give him something to see.

Your eyes fall upon the clock as you type your message, and though your anniversary is less than perfect, you hope that he will come back to you.

To: My Boy I’m sorry. It’s 10:10. My wish is that you’ll forgive me.

And so he does.

Your freshman year of college is coming to a close, and you have yet to attend a party.

Everyone tells you that it is a rite of passage in university, but you have not been able to pull yourself away from your books long enough to even consider a party. All of your time is divided between school, dance, and Jeno.

Jeno, on the other hand, being a part of the school’s official volleyball team, attends many parties. It is not so much that it is irritating or worrying, but he surely goes to enough parties that he begins asking you to come.

You are packing up your dorm, tucking your decorations into a box when you receive a text.

From: My Boy Hyuck is throwing a party tonight. End of the year stuff. Will you come?

Lee Donghyuck is someone that you don’t particularly like. Though your boyfriend has befriended him through their mutual membership on the team, you dislike the fact that he is throwing parties nearly every weekend, urging your boyfriend to attend. You wish that Jeno would stop being so nice for once, and just say no.

Much like you do.

From: My Boy Please? It’s the end of the year.

Glancing at the message on your lit up screen as you tape a box closed, you sigh. You had just finished your final exam hours earlier, and you wanted nothing more than to cuddle in bed with your boyfriend before you both headed home for the summer tomorrow. In fact, the last thing you wanted was to have to fight a hangover on the drive home.

To: My Boy Not feeling it. I still have to finish packing.

His reply comes immediately.

From: My Boy I’ll help you pack tomorrow. Come on, it’ll be fun.

To: My Boy Jeno, I said no. I’m exhausted and I want to finish packing now so I can rest.

To: My Boy I’m not in the mood to party.

You toss your phone onto the bed, and though it beeps quickly with his response, you don’t glance at it until you’ve packed away another box.

From: My Boy Can’t you have fun for once?

At his message your brows immediately furrow in displeasure and your fingers are quick in typing a response, growing increasingly annoyed by his badgering.

To: My Boy Did you come to university to study or to have fun and fail your classes?

It’s a low blow, for you know Jeno only failed his Intro to Psychology class because it was early in the mornings on the days after his volleyball practices past midnight. But it doesn’t mean you feel any less upset with him.

From: My Boy Wow. Did you come to university to study until your eyes bleed and you forget your anniversary?

Another low blow.

Your fingers move faster than your brain, and you send your response before you can even comprehend what you have written.

To: My Boy Yes, I did. Go to your party. But don’t bother picking me up tomorrow. I’d rather crash than drive with your hungover ass.

Once the weight of your words begin to sit on your shoulders, he responds, and you can almost feel his frustration.

From: My Boy Fine.

You don’t sleep that night.

You had asked your mom to pick you up from your school, and you were glad that she had not asked any questions regarding your original plans to return with Jeno.

Rather, she shows up early in the morning and helps you load your belongings into the car. So early in fact, that when Jeno knocks on your door around noon, all he meets is Yerim who tells him you had already left.

As much as you hate to admit it, there is a bit of satisfaction in your chest when Yerim texts you to tell you this. You had planned to leave at 10AM with him anyways, yet he hadn’t even woken up from his hungover stupor until near noon. It only goes to show that you had been right after all.

Jeno was too much about fun, and you knew that was detrimental to him.

In fact, the two of you spend the first week of summer vacation ignoring each other. He texts you a few times, to which you give short responses. You do not pick up his calls, though you find trouble sleeping without the sound of his breath over the receiver.

This is the longest you’ve gone angry at each other, and this fact does not escape you nor Jeno.

You are already missing him so much, feeling that you’re missing an essential part of yourself, that when he shows up at your doorstep at 9PM one night, you immediately envelope him in your embrace.

Your argument is long forgotten, until Jeno mentions it while you’re cuddling in your now mostly barren bedroom. Somehow, your nostalgic mind throws you back to last summer, to the nights you had simply enjoyed Jeno’s presence in your life and in your bed.

Though only a year has passed, you feel like a new person.

“You know I love you,” his deep voice resonates in your ears, and you nod, your head on his chest.

“And I’d never want to hurt you.” You nod again.

“And you know I’m sorry.” You hum in response.

“And it’s 10:10, so I love you more. And I wish that we can leave this behind us,” he says, referring to your week-long argument. In response, you nod and look up to him with bright eyes filled to the brim of pure love.

“Consider it granted.” This is your reply as you press your lips to his, to the lips you have grown to love so much. On reflex, his hands come up to press at your hips, the body that he has admired in so many ways.

And that night for the first time in what feels to be a long time, you make love. It is perfect, though your love isn’t always. It is a love you have both come to take for granted.

The summer proves to be very different from the last. Something has changed, though you don’t know what.

Though you and Jeno have made up, this doesn’t mean you see each other as much as you’d like, or that your schedules clear up for each other, or that you become more understanding of each other. You take a summer job at your mother’s business, which fills your entire weekly schedule from nine to five. Meanwhile, Jeno busies himself as the assistant coach for a boy’s youth volleyball team which practices every other day.

The days belong to the world, but your nights belong to each other. Because your parents no longer care about the seriousness of your relationship with Jeno, they pay no mind to him spending the night, or you at his.

Tonight it is his bed that you lay in, his chest pressed against your back as he holds you by the waist. As much as you have been arguing lately, finding excuses to avoid him whenever your words hurt each other, you cannot deny that in his arms, you feel safe.

You feel, no, you know, that whatever the world throws at you, you will be okay as long as you have Jeno.

As soon as this thought occurs to you, you feel a strange emotion spreading across your chest, though it is not unfamiliar. There, his arm slung over your waist and his steady breath in your ears, you feel love seep through your veins and consume you.

Jeno is your home. You know that.

He is your person. The one person in the world who knows you for you. He accepts you for your flaws, like your overstudying, your habit of stressing yourself out, your desire for perfection. Jeno knows all these things, and accepts them.

Whenever you make mistakes (and you have made a lot of them), he forgives you. He accepts you with open arms, though you had never even left his heart. And through this he has taught you to do the same for him.

He laughs without hearing your punchline. He smiles for you without needing a reason to. He loves you, cherishing you as though you are perfect when you are far from it.

You know people all over the world spend their lives hoping for a love like this.

“Jeno,” you call to him, your voice breaking the silence though you know he was nowhere close to sleeping.

“Hm,” he hums in response, embrace tightening.

“Why did you pick me that day? In the pumpkin patch. Did you… come to me because you liked me? Or… was it fate?”

Not that you had ever believed in fate. You believed that fate could only work so many miracles: as much as destiny lends a helping hand, one will get nowhere without hard work. Hard work was your relationship.

He is quiet for minutes, but you know he is not asleep.

Finally, he answers. “I came to you.”

“Why?”

“Because. I knew you were special.” You? Special was surely the last word you would use to describe yourself. As though sensing your confusion, he continues. “You stood out to me. In the crowd of hundreds of people, I found you. I felt that you were special, and in the end, I was right. You are special. You are so determined… so smart. Forgiving, loving, strong-headed.”

You turn and bury your head into his chest as he continues to shower you with compliments. Even after almost two years together, he could still fluster you this way.

“I love you,” he finally says, a closing statement. He is good. He is too good to you, you think as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Goodnight.”

You could never let him go. He is your perfect.

Four months later, two weeks short of your second anniversary, you nearly do.

You and Jeno are sitting in your shared apartment, the two of you having decided that you were ready to move in together. It had been a big milestone for the both of you, but you knew you were both ready. In actuality, you only saw each other so often in the apartment.

He’d wake up first and go to the gym after leaving a kiss on your forehead, and by the time he came back, you'd already left for your 8AM lecture. The next time you would meet would be briefly for a shared dinner, between your two discussions and before his volleyball practice.

Then you would slip into bed with him a little before midnight, having just returned from dance rehearsal.

Tonight though, you had decided to skip on rehearsal. It has been a couple weeks since your last quiet night with Jeno, so you made a sacrifice, one he had been begging you to make for a while now.

You know that Jeno misses you, just as much as you miss him. But the weeks are busy, and on the weekends Jeno almost always has games and events to attend. On occasions you join him, but you soon find them to be exhausting.

You much prefer these quiet nights with him, with his arms around you on the couch and a shared bowl of popcorn balanced between the two of you.

Tonight, you are uncharacteristically tired. With finals coming up, you have been overworking your mind to the max, and with the additional stress of dance on your shoulders, you have been getting less than enough sleep.

This is why you find yourself dozing off in Jeno’s arms, your head on his shoulder as your eyes begin to droop.

You love this. It is this comfort that you have long mentioned and adored.

You love that you can fall asleep in his arms, and know that you will wake up safe. You love that he loves you enough to carry you back to bed when you doze off, and you love that he loves you.

You love him.

Just as you’re about to slip into the abyss of sleep, you hear Jeno sigh.

“Seriously? You’re falling asleep?”

His annoyed tone makes you open your eyes, and you do so to find yourself facing his frustrated eyes. “Hm..?” You ask, voice still clouded with fatigue.

His response only reflects his growth in vexation. “We haven’t had a night to ourselves like this in weeks. We’re only thirty minutes into the movie and you’re already falling asleep. Are you that desperate to be rid of me?”

His words trigger a response in you, and you feel a huff of disdain leave your lips. “I’m tired, Jeno. I’m exhausted.”

“And you think I’m not? I have more units than even you this semester, and I have volleyball to deal with. You think I’m not tired, but I suck it up to spend this time with you?” He unhooks his arm from around you and you frown, knowing he is both physically and emotionally retracting from you.

“No one asked you to,” you reply angrily, feeling your annoyance grow by the second.

This seems to upset him the most, because he stands to his feet and begins to pace. You hate when Jeno paces.

“Of course no one asked me to. You shouldn’t have to in a relationship. But lately it’s always, ‘Oh Y/N, won’t you please have dinner with me tonight?’ ‘Babe, can’t you stop studying for two minutes to cuddle me?’ ‘Can’t you skip rehearsal?’ I’m tired of always asking you to put effort in.”

His answer infuriates you and you stand to your feet as well, volume of your voice rising. “I did skip rehearsal for you. And I’m trying my best, didn’t I promise you once that I’d always give my best for you?”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, because this is your best.”

“This is my best!” You retort, feeling angry tears well in your eyes.

This was not your Jeno. Your Jeno was understanding, accepting. He loved you for all your bullshit, everything that you gave to him. Now your indignation is valid; you don’t recall ever yelling at him, or even getting personally upset, whenever he had knocked out during your movie nights. The nights were he would argue and insist on watching a movie of your choice, only to fall asleep before the end.

You could have made a scene then. Could have yelled at him for being insensitive, and that you would’ve much rather watched a stupid action movie with him than watch a rom-com alone.

But you didn’t. So it infuriates you that he has the audacity to complain, the first time you do what he does so often.

“Well maybe your best isn’t good enough.”

His answer stings, and hangs in the air, for you cannot formulate a response.

Not good enough.

Those were familiar words to you.

You had heard it from none other than your parents for the majority of your life. As much as you loved them, they were to blame for your insecurities, for your inconsolable need to be the best. You would only be the best by working your ass off for it.

You never would have thought you’d hear it from your boyfriend, who was supposed to love and accept you in all forms.

With sad, betrayed eyes you nod and scream back. “I know I’m not enough. I’ve never been enough. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No, it’s not. I want you to argue. I want you to fight back. You never do! You just let things happen, you just ignore them and think they’ll go away. You forgot our anniversary, and didn’t even chase after me. We got into a disagreement, one little disagreement, and you ran home without me.”

“Well fuck, Jeno, you’re saying you want me to be a mess?”

“No, I want you to fucking try for this relationship once. For once, I want you to pick me. Pick me over your stupid study groups, or your nights out with your friends when you barely even have enough nights for me. Pick me over your dance team, or studying, or any other stupid thing you have going on in your life.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms across your chest as he lists off the aspects of your life. “And you think I don’t try?”

He stares, and stares, and stares. You can practically see the deliberation in his eyes, hear his thoughts in your mind. This you can do because you know him, you have learned him from the inside out.

But perhaps you have not learned everything.

“No. I don’t.”

Finally, your tears fall. Hot and angry, they leave wet trails down your cheeks which leave you feeling weak and hopeless. Crying is not weak, you know this. But crying means to you that you have run out of things to exert your frustration into, and this can only mean one thing.

It is the end.

So you turn away, shuffling with quick feet into your shared bedroom, and slam the door shut, ignoring when he comes after you and knocks rapidly on the locked door.

To: Heejin (◕‿◕) Hey Heej. I need you.

It has been weeks since you last spoke to your best friend. Because she decided to study abroad in Japan, you have since become somewhat distant. But she is the only person besides Jeno whom you can run to, though perhaps you are tired of running.

A best friend indeed, she replies within seconds.

From: Heejin (◕‿◕) What’s up babe? It’s so late, what happened?

With shaking fingers you write your response.

To: Heejin (◕‿◕) I think

To: Heejin (◕‿◕) I need to break up with Jeno.

It isn’t until you press ‘send’ that it hits you. Perhaps because you had written it into existence, but your anger becomes replaced with sadness.

Your Jeno.

Your first love, your first. You could not imagine ever letting him go, yet you had just admitted to it. When your phone vibrates, you can tell that your best friend is just as shocked.

From: Heejin (◕‿◕) Oh honey. Call me.

An hour later you have gotten off the phone, and your tears have dried.

You clasp at your bedsheets, though you find that for the first time in your relationship, Jeno has slept on the couch. This is the worst it has ever been, and you can’t decide what hurts more: the fact that you had come to this decision, or the fact that he had let you.

Heejin had spoken calmly in comparison to you.

You had cried, you had argued with her, and you had denied the things she said. Because she was your best friend, she was not afraid to say things that would hurt you. Because unlike Jeno, she knew that you would love her forever.

She had helped you see the truth, and it had become much clearer now.

You and Jeno were no longer compatible.

He had taken you for granted. He only saw you for your shortcomings, for the dates that you had skipped out on or forgotten. He did not choose to see the things you did for him.

Things like making breakfast for him before you left for your class, knowing he’d see it when he returned from the gym. Things like replacing his shampoos, because you knew he was too busy to notice it with the stress of volleyball running in his head. The little things, which required little thought to perform but a lot of thought to recognize.

You had agreed with her here.

Then she told you the ways in which you had wronged him.

You had misunderstood him. No, she had told you, you had never even taken the chance to understand him. Rather than see that he simply enjoyed parties for the sake of freeing himself from stress, you saw him as irresponsible. You wanted to believe that him asking for your time was him being greedy.

You had always expected him to understand you without saying anything, yet you could not even attempt to understand him even when he was saying it, asking you.

What she had told you at the very end, as you were nearly crying into your pillow, was that you had mistaken comfort for distance.

Because you had assumed that he would always be by your side understanding you, it was easy for you to stand him up for unimportant things like study groups and nights out with friends. Because he had understood.

But being pushed to the side had become too much for him, when you began to abandon the great things, like seeing his team win the championship because you had rehearsal, or missing your first anniversary because you were studying.

That was what had shook you to your very core.

You had been pining, hoping for a comfortable, understanding love that you did not realize when this comfort that he had provided you turned into laziness on your part.

And though you were angry at him, you knew that you should be just as angry at yourself.

That night you fell asleep, and dreamt of a handsome young teenage boy in an ugly orange t-shirt, offering you a mini pumpkin and a lifetime of love.

Your breakup went, as you would say, perfect.

You had both seen it coming, and so when Jeno mentioned it two days later, you were not shocked. Just because you had expected it though, doesn’t mean it hurt any less.

Because the house was in your name, he had left it, along with his key on the counter.

Within a weekend he had rid the apartment of his belongings, though he left your shared things behind. Your pictures, the hoodies that he had ultimately given you. Your promise rings.

It scared you almost, how calm the two of you were in the process.

When he left, he gave you a tight hug, and whispered to you for the last time: “I love you.” Except this time, “I’m sorry” followed suit. Then a gust of wind and he was gone.

It was amicable. There was little screaming, there was a polite goodbye. He was kind enough to leave his gifts to you, and to take the gifts you had given him, though you were sure they would soon be discarded. He had even had sense to make the bed before he left, and clear the bathroom of his toothbrush.

Only Lee Jeno would be so thoughtful in a breakup.

And so as you fall to the floor with tears in your eyes and sob on your lips, you hate yourself for falling in love with such a kind, perfect man.

A year passes.

You are in your third year of university now, though you have moved out of your previously shared apartment and into a new, smaller one which occupies less space. You don’t need the excessive room anymore, with only one person.

Perhaps you have moved on.

Originally you had allotted yourself two years of time to let Lee Jeno leave your mind and your heart, that having been the amount of time you spent together. But sometimes, you truly feel that you have gotten over him.

Because you had rarely seen him on campus even during your relationship, you do not run into him on your large campus. You avoid going to volleyball games, or any sports games for that matter.

You even go on a few dates.

First there is Huang Renjun, an art major who you meet when he accidentally spills paint on you. But no, he is too harsh with his words, you learn when he gives you the hell for cancelling last minute.

Then there is Kim Jungwoo, who you meet at the coffee shop off campus. He is a barista, but you cannot find more than attraction for him in your soul because he is not ambitious, he has no more dreams besides making coffee.

You even find yourself sleeping with Lee Donghyuck once, but you quickly find that he is annoying and too brash, not like Jeno.

Like Jeno. None of them are like Jeno, and that is why none of them stay.

And so even though you tell yourself that you are over Lee Jeno, because you can give your number to strangers in the coffee shop and you can sleep with overzealous frat boys, you know deep in your heart, that you have never been close to moving on.

It hits you most when you are alone, especially late in night when you cannot fall asleep. And you remember what it was like to fall asleep in his arms, with his warmth and his breathing which brought a feeling of sturdiness.

Especially tonight, you are in bed early when you think about the fact that today marks one year since he has left you.

As poorly as your relationship progressed, Jeno has changed you for the better.

After your breakup, you came to realize your shortcomings.

It was true that you never made time for anything in your life, especially not for him. You no longer wanted your significant other to have to beg for your time, and so you began to take more time for yourself.

Study less, not that you needed to study as much as you did. Breathe more. Take walks. Sit for an hour or two in the coffee shop without a goal.

It slowed your life down. Jeno taught you this.

And despite the tears that you spilled for him, he taught you how to love.

He taught you that love was not perfect, as much as you strived for it to be. There would be bumps, there would be fights. There would be the pumpkin patch moments; those are the ones that make you feel on top of the world, as though your love could trump all. Then there are the moments of longing, where you haven’t felt the comfort of the other’s presence in what feels like millenia. There also exist times of peril, where you scream at each other and slam the doors in each other’s faces over who falls asleep in a movie.

What Jeno has taught you, however, is that you have to make the pumpkin patch moments outnumber all the other negatives.

He has taught you that like you have to work in life for a degree or a job promotion, you have to work for love. You have to chase after that person when they storm out. You have to calm down, and listen to the other’s words in a moment of anger. Sometimes, you have to forgive them, you have to acquiesce, as Jeno had often done for you.

And most of all he has taught you that you never forget your first love.

Lee Jeno was the perfect first love. He had loved you carefully, with your best efforts in mind. You could not have asked for anything more.

Even if you can have other loves, you don’t want them. You want your first love, and you want him to be your last. You would start over with him in every single way if you could, except you would be better this time.

Even if this is not possible.

You would never be able to return to the way you were, to a bright-eyed boy with pumpkins in his hand and a shy quiet girl with too much ambition for her own good. You cannot ask for him to be the boy you first met, because you cannot fulfill that role for him either.

But you don’t want to return to those days, as good as they were. You want to continue on your journey of growth with him by your side. You will never have the chance to now.

Your phone rings from beneath your pillow. You pull it out, gaze at the message on the screen, and smile.

You had never been able to change his name after all this time.

From: My Boy 10:10. My wish is for another chance to make you happy.

#nct #nct dream #jeno #jeno lee #nct jeno #jeno fanfic #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #this is loosely inspired by my own life experiences #and lessons #so it was a bit cathartic for me to write #jeno x oc #jeno imagines

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sweetsubharry · 4 years ago

Note

do have any mpreg fics? (harry gets pregnant ofc)

Yes I do!! 💖 also of course ;) there’s about 54 in this list if I counted correctly!! so it’s a long one!

Please stay safe and read the tags everyone!!

Worth the Wait by lovelarry10

“Harry, you’re scaring me. Why did you need me to come home? I don’t mind, not if you need me, but… tell me what’s happening, love.” “I…” Harry cleared his throat, but still the words wouldn’t come. His shaking hand reached down and pulled out the picture, his breath coming in shallow pants as he handed it to Louis, who took it from him, frowning down at it.

“Whose is this?”

Louis’ blue eyes met Harry’s green then, and Harry knew he had to tell the truth.

“It’s mine. Ours. I’m pregnant, Louis.”

*****

Louis and Harry had long ago come to terms with the fact they couldn’t have children. Rapidly approaching their forties, they’re settled at work, and more than happily married.

Life, however, has other plans for the Tomlinsons.

Fill My Heart With Sweetness by loopdelouis

Harry's a late bloomer, but since his luck is shit, it's no surprise that he'd be the last to get a heat, but the first to get pregnant. In high school.

Count The Wolves And We'll Sleep Tonight by scribblewrite

Louis's the Alpha of a powerful pack and Harry's his omega.

When Harry's taken by rogue alphas, Louis will do anything to bring him home safely.

yes, you make my life worthwhile by orphan_account

Harry whispers to him that this feels like every dream he’s had for the last three years and Louis kisses his temple, behind his ear, across his cheeks and by the edge of his jaw. He runs the back of his finger across Winnie’s sleep-warm cheeks and sighs, the weight of the world finally off his shoulder.

Louis' a pediatrician, Harry's a preschooler teacher, and they're having a baby.

Weigh Us Down (We're In Love) by orphan_account

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at that. “We’re friends?”

Louis nods eagerly, smiling even wider. “Of course we are! You’re like, my first ever friend here. We just moved in, you see. Did I already tell you about that? Anyway! Maybe you can stay for dinner and I can show you my toys?”

Harry smiles. “You’ll let me play with you?”

Louis nods again, excited. “Of course!” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he’s slipping off the couch and crouching in front of Harry. “Oh, and Mum always kisses my wounds after she fixes them up. It makes me feel loads better all the time, so.” He leans forward and puckers his lips, pressing them over the bandage on Harry’s knee.

(harry and louis first meet when they’re eight and ten. this is their story throughout the years.)

love is so good when the love is young by drunkonyou

Louis falls for his pregnant best friend who has a bit of baggage. They make it work though.

fell in love in the morning sun by lumineres

“I'm going to die,” he wails. After about ten minutes of being in the car the discomfort got to be too much and Louis had to pull over so he could get on his hands and knees in the back seat, the only position that seemed to appeal to him. He let's out another pained cry, then grits out, “But not before I fucking kill you. This was your idea, I swear, what the fuck Louis.”

Louis does not correct him this time, he'd made that mistake two contractions ago and nearly lost his head. It had actually been Harry's idea, he'd told Louis that he hadn't forgotten the condoms, he wanted a baby. It really wasn't any trouble at all for Louis to oblige. Within a month of trying (what a wonderful month, honestly), Harry was full of Louis' baby. Like magic.

or, harry's in labor for 30 hours. louis believes in magic.

Vanished by FicNess

Harry loved Louis, Louis loved Harry. It was perfect. But after a small slip-up during some rather poorly planned sexytimes, Harry made the decision to run away. He was pretty good at hiding but Louis was also pretty good at seeking. And when Louis found him he also found a little surprise.

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen by orphan_account

Their dinner’s probably going cold, but this feels monumental. So instead of sitting them down on the table and talking about it face to face over chicken and pasta, Harry just puts his hands over Louis’ where they’re settled on his lower stomach, not letting the moment slip past them. He takes a deep breath, carefully arranging his thoughts. “She looks really lovely, Louis. Positively glowing. Her bump’s so big, and…” he trails off, breath hitching slightly when Louis lifts his hand higher, settling it right over Harry’s stomach, and that’s—

“And what, baby?” Louis asks, voice now dropped to a whisper, and Harry has to take a moment to collect his thoughts.

“She, um. She knows about you, of course, and she asked me when we’re—when we’re having a baby of our own.”

(harry teaches little kids and louis writes sports articles. they're trying for a baby.)

I'll Stand By You by harrystanslouis

Harry and Louis have been hooking up for two years. What happens when an unexpected surprise is thrown into their world?

-An mpreg, A/B/O AU featuring stupid boys in love, lots of pining, and a happy ending.

So Long I've Been Waiting by kikikryslee

Niall held up his glass in a toast. “Cheers.” Harry stared at Louis as he brought the glass up to his lips, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like he could refuse the drink, but he certainly didn’t want to have any champagne. Louis monitored everyone else, and as soon as they all had their heads tilted back, drinking their mimosa, he reached out and knocked Harry’s glass right out of his hand, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oh, no!” Louis pretended to be shocked at what had just happened. “Harry, you’re so clumsy. You dropped your glass.” “Yes,” Harry said seriously. “I am very clumsy.” --- Or, the one where Harry and Louis are having their first baby, and keeping it a secret until the end of the first trimester is a lot harder than they thought it would be.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Nothing I'm Running From by swallowsmateforlife

The odds are one in a million. Chances are it's not going to happen to them.

It does happen to them and Harry Styles is pregnant.

deep in my heart i know there's only you by ballsdeepinjesus

"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]

hard to confess by hereforlou

One, they only did it without a condom once (and a half) and not during his heat. Never during his heat. Two, he never once forgot to take his birth control (he’s almost sure). Three, his plan is to be married for a year before he even starts trying for a baby, and not only is he very, very single, him and Louis aren’t even sleeping together anymore. Which brings him to reason number four why this can’t be happening: Louis. Louis doesn’t want a baby with Harry.

(Or, the one where Harry knows he messed up and Louis knows nothing.)

Piece by Piece by SadaVeniren

He rubbed his hand over his lower stomach and closed his eyes. Louis was going to lose his fucking mind.

(aka Harry tells Louis he's pregnant and it goes as expected)

Fallen Far From the Tree by SadaVeniren

“I’m so excited.”

“Me too,” Louis said. “Just think, it’s gonna be you and me forever.” He even managed to sing song the end of the sentence.

Harry snorted. “That’s not how the line goes. And besides, it’s not gonna be you and me forever. It’s gonna be you, and me, and this little one.”

He could see the smile stretch across Louis’ face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

(aka Harry and Louis go through the ups and ups of pregnancy)

Right Here Waiting by lovelarry10

Louis and Harry are expecting a baby. Harry's heavily pregnant and nesting madly, determined to make their home ready for their baby.

(i didn't mean to) fall in love tonight by zouisclimax

Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet.

He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet.

He still feels sick.

[or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

Running Down To The Riptide by sweaterpawstyles

"I can't give you your present yet, Lou."

Louis furrowed his brows. "And why is that, my love?"

Harry smiled at his lap. "Because your present is under my sweater," he pulled his free hand that wasn't laced with Louis' and gently laid it on his stomach. "I'm pregnant."

It's New Year's Eve and Harry has a surprise under his sweater

When I'm Lost I feel so very Found by sweaterpawstyles

Louis posted a picture a few minutes later of Harry kissing his cheek and captioned it as "My baby is having our baby :)"

It ended up getting almost a million likes in just a few hours and Louis' phone was blowing up with texts of congratulations from his friends. Harry couldn't stop blushing.

Or, the one where Harry is an average university student who winds up pregnant with rising actor Louis Tomlinson's child

Gasoline Stars by galacticlourry (orphan_account)

It reminded him of stardust, of the history of suns, and he supposed that was what the boy asleep on his shoulder had been created out of. The history of suns.

...

Or, an AU where it's all nice and innocent until someone ends up pregnant. (That would be Harry.) Also known as the Mpreg AU I've doubt you've read before.

Answer All Your Wishes by SadaVeniren

Harry and Louis met when Harry was thirteen and as first impressions go theirs was memorable enough to start a life long romance.

AKA a Tom Fletcher/Giovanna Fletcher AU where Louis is part of One Direction, Harry is the love of his life who blogs, and they have many, many children.

Claire de lune by Neondiamond

"We're having a baby Lou." he heard him say softly.

"We are babe, we are." Louis whispered into his husband's curls. "We're having a baby."

OR: Harry and Louis have wanted a baby for a while now, and now Harry's finally pregnant.

we've got a lifetime to kill by louislovesharry

harry and louis have a three year old daughter, evie, who is their whole world, and another little girl on the way. when harry falls and is put on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy, louis and evie must adjust - but it is all worth it for their newest addition to the tomlinson family.

Dirty Little Secret by therogueskimo

“Can’t let Gemma … she can’t find us,” Harry gasped against Louis’ lips, kicking his jeans off.

“Why?” Louis breathed against his mouth, working his lips down along the line of his jaw and onto his neck.

“Just … I don’t want to – god, Lou – don’t want to deal with her reaction. Just want it to be us.”

“Our dirty little secret, eh?”

_____________

Or the one where Harry and Louis fall in love, but can’t figure out how to tell Gemma. That is, until Harry gets pregnant, and they don’t have much of a choice.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

Put It Into Words by orphan_account

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.”

Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.

I Get To Love You by lovelarry10

A one night stand leaves Harry with a permanent reminder of the night he spent with a stranger.

Louis has no idea who the handsome stranger he took to bed is... until his friends make a shocking discovery.

A baby is on the way, and Louis and Harry have nine months to get to know each other before they become a family...

Dancing Shadows by SadaVeniren

The house was quiet by the time Louis walked up to it. He’d been away for a week and while it wasn’t the longest he’d ever been away from the pack, it was the longest he’d been away from Harry and the kids.

A Perfect Reason by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)

During a visit to a charity he'd like to support, Prince Louis--next in line to the throne of the United Kingdom--meets Harry, the man of his dreams. Trouble is, Louis is not out, and the law says his heirs can only be born of a woman. Louis is determined not to let that stop his pursuit of Harry. His determination doubles when Harry accidentally becomes pregnant. He and Harry will have their little family--and change the monarchy while they're at it.

Another Constellation to Trace by screwstyles

Louis wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m winning that bet.”

“What bet?” comes Niall’s excited voice from behind them, followed by footsteps. “I wanna be in on the bet!” he shouts, prompting Harry to quickly roll down his shirt sleeve and straighten his shirt where it’s still crinkly after Louis’ hands.

Niall takes one look at them and purses his lips in a tight line. “Were you guys making out again? Isn’t the fire meant to die down a bit after eight years?”

“Trust me, the fire is still very much alive,” Louis winks at Harry. “One could even say it’s cooking something.”

Mpreg AU: Louis and Harry bet on who can keep Harry's pregnancy a secret for longer. Neither of them is particularly good at it, and it doesn't help that their soulmate tattoos make it even harder.

Made From Love by lovelarry10

It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.

Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.

Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...

years go by, whether you want them to by louislovesharry

A girl. They were having a little girl, and Harry couldn’t be happier. He had dreamed of having a daughter for as long as he could remember. A tiny little angel that he could dress up, have tea parties, pick flowers with. And if that wasn’t her thing, Louis could play footie with her, they could teach her how to play guitar and play with toy trucks. There was nothing Harry wanted more than to have and hold this beautiful creature that they had made together out of pure love, and nurture and cherish her for always.

The 'Oh my God it's twins!" Drabble. by FicNess

The 'Oh my God it's twins!" Drabble.

another pair of feet by honey_beeing

where Harry is pregnant and Louis is an oblivious idiot.

I will Only have these eyes for you by Dysia

Harry's pregnant and Louis' more in love with him than ever.

Don't ever let this day stop by Dysia

Louis comes back home earlier than he was suppose to and he's surprised with the best present ever.

i will rearrange the stars (pull 'em down to where you are) by orphan_account

Except-- the antibiotics. They'd fucked to celebrate Harry finally feeling better and not being contagious after his fight with strep-- but the antibiotics had likely still been present. And everyone knew suppressants and birth control didn't work when on antibiotics.

"Lads," Harry repeated once again, blinking slowly as his eyes filled with tears. Liam and Niall were staring at him in bewildered silence. "Lads. I'm, like, ninety-eight point seven percent sure I'm up the duff."

Alternatively, the one where Omega!Harry gets pregnant

To Carry Love by dimpled_halo

During One Direction's hiatus, Harry becomes unexpectedly pregnant, and Louis does his best at becoming the most supportive husband he can be.

Fists Alongside Hearts by mpregharryqueen

Louis is a superhero protecting New York City. He never planned on having a sidekick and especially never planned on having a baby with said sidekick.

AU based very loosely on the cinematic masterpieces, Sky High and The Incredibles.

On His Way Home by denisemuriel

“Ehm, yeah.” Harry looked down onto his lap, fumbling with his fingers. “It’s Louis’.” He replied quietly. “Oh my god.” A voice that didn’t belong to his sister Gemma replied. When Harry looked up from his lap, he saw Lottie standing across the room in the door frame and his eyes grew as wide as hers. She was Louis’ fucking sister, damn it. And now she knew that he was pregnant with her brother’s baby. “Lottie, your fucking brother got my baby brother pregnant!” Gemma exclaimed.

Or the one where Harry is set up on a blind date with his sister's best friend's brother

We Were Made to Love by supernope

“Everything all sorted? Need help with the buckles? I know they’re a bit tricky in this compartment.”

The voice startles Louis out of his daze, and he turns toward the voice to let him know he figured it out. When he catches sight of the owner of the voice, though, his response dies in his throat. Whatever he had imagined the conductor of a children’s train that rides around the shopping centre in Leeds would look like, this is certainly not it.

Leaning through the window, arms folded across the sill, is a green-eyed angel with cherry red lips stretched wide in a smile and dimples flirting in his cheeks. A black conductor’s hat is the only confirmation that this is not some gorgeous stranger who’s come to flirt with Louis through the window of a children’s train, but is just a man doing his job.

[or, Harry drives a kiddie train in the shopping centre for the summer and is obsessed with babies, and Louis never stood a chance.]

Baby, What a Big Surprise by kiwikero

As Harry settles into his seat, self-consciously adjusting his shirt over his slightly distended stomach, he can’t help but wonder how he got himself into all this. But he knows, of course he knows. It isn’t exactly easy to forget the moment that changed his entire life forever.

It all started with a party.

Or, the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he's a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.

Featuring Lottie as Harry's best friend, Niall as her boyfriend, and, of course, Louis as the popular boy with a soft spot for his little sister's quirky friend.

here comes the sun by orphan_account

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Louis promises, his pink, chapped lips moving slowly in the cold. It matches the beanie on his head—pink, because they found out this morning that they’re having a girl and that’s just.

Harry’s going to be a dad. To a little girl. Five months from now he’ll be holding her in his arms, and she’ll be so lovely and small.

They’re going to have a spring baby and she’s probably going to have Louis’ eyes. What a blessing that would be. Harry crosses his fingers on the hand inside his pocket, hoping that she does. He’ll love her either way—blue or green or even brown eyes, it doesn’t matter—but he’d really like them to be blue, he thinks.

[Harry is a pediatric specialist, Louis is a neurosurgeon. All they want is a baby.]

and the sun shines upon your face by rosegarden

“It's just – it feels weird. To tell her that her twenty year old closeted son got knocked up in the middle of a stadium worldwide tour.” Louis laughs and Harry's heart squeezes at that beautiful sound. “Well it does sound weird when you put it like that.” “I don't 'put it like that'. It's the truth.”

the one where Harry really, really likes making plans but plans don't really like him, Louis is an overprotective-future-dad-to-be and Niall, Liam and Zayn race to be the godfather.

everywhere (i wanna be with you) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

kiss full of color, makes me wonder where you've always been by louislovesharry

after a rough day dealing with his three kids and louis being gone, a very pregnant harry is exhausted. louis helps make things better, always.

you make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong by orphan_account

“Curly?” Louis says, stepping into Harry’s sight. “You okay?” Harry looks up from where he has two things in his hands, a thick winter coat sized for a newborn, and a sweatshirt fitting a grown man such as himself. He looks up at Louis, stricken, and holds them out for him to see. “They’re the same price,” he says. “They’re both forty dollars! Forty dollars for such little material.”

(or, Harry is pregnant and stops at the mall to buy cheap baby clothes. Louis has extra money from working a long shift, and he can't think of a better way to spend it than on him.)

i'll be your sunflower by scagnetism

“What do you think’s gonna stop us now?” Harry says cheekily, laughter in his voice as he looks up at Louis. “Something’s gotta get in our way like always, doesn’t it?”

“Ha,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek and holding open the door for him as they make their way toward the car. “Nothing’s gonna interrupt us this time. ‘S gonna be perfect, just like Pumpkin.”

Or, a few interruptions aren't going to stop Harry from having a perfect pregnancy and having the family he and Louis have always dreamed of.

The Original Mpreg!Harry by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)

series

i'll put my future in you by louislovesharry

series

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

*just a note to say this is a wip but it is almost completed and updated regularly!

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