#i wish it made me feel anything. i miss reading those first chapters when they first came out .... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

back2bluesidex · 3 months ago

Text

Slide - The Other Side - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.6k+

Summary:

I shot back, then she told me I should speak up "I can't even hear you through the speaker"

Alternatively,

No matter how much Yoongi had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you.

Warnings: angst, yoongi is a dilemma, he is suffering quite a lot too.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: Very first Yoongi's POV.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the next chapter

It is a human instinct to seek for what we don’t have and try to get our hands on it.

Be it tangible or intangible - human beings will always run after what they don’t own and what they think they need.

Yoongi is a human.

So he, too, ran after everything he is not, everything he thought would fill the gaps of his soul, fit like a missing piece of a puzzle and make him whole.

Hence, he fell in love with Lee Gyuri.

Given the fact that Gyuri is everything he is not, he thought she would make him a perfect sphere. He thought his imperfectly titled earth would stand straight and spin round.

However, alarms of his mind set off very loudly whenever Gyuri brought forth the topic of marriage and kids and living together.

He himself came from a broken family. He witnessed how his father and mother were once so in love but then suddenly they were drifting apart.

A part of him believes that marriage ruins love. And he wanted to stay in love, without having to exchange vows and reproduce another life.

But to his dismay, Gyuri thought his idea of love was absolutely absurd and it doesn’t make any sense. In the end, she decided to leave him, saying that his cold shoulders are hard to take, his distant persona hurt her beyond measure and that she thinks she’s the only one who is keeping this relationship alive.

Hence, his four year old relationship came to an end just like that.

Gyuri walked away and she took the larger part of yoongi with her. The part that was left, was unable to fall in love, unable to feel anything concrete, just unable to process human connection anymore.

If Gyuri thought he never loved her properly, she should have seen him after her departure. Yoongi was devastated, broken, shattered beyond repair - and you only fall too hard when you climb too high, you only break too much when you love too hard.

Yoongi wished Gyuri knew.

For once Yoongi wished to be seen.

And Yoongi felt seen.

Yoongi felt the feeling of being seen in every corner of his skin, deep in his bones each and every time you looked at him with those knowing eyes.

Ever since that night you picked him up, you have always looked at him with kindness. There was no pity, no curiosity in your eyes to unsettle him.

If he dares to add then he has perceived affection in those eyes of yours. And by some magical force, you made him open up - something even Gyuri couldn’t do.

If he is honest enough to admit then he would say that he was afraid of opening up to his former girlfriend, what if she ran away (which she did regardless).

But somehow you felt like a safe space - he could show the real him, the one that is scared and weak, and you wouldn’t judge him, you would embrace him (which you did every single time).

And that is what kept him coming back to you again and again.

Those quiet nights of shared understandings soon turned into something more - skin on skin, hands on body, mouth on mouth. Yoongi hated none of it.

Yoongi started liking it all way too much.

Soon enough he realized, it’s not always important to fill up each gap, to seek for a person who is everything we are not.

Sometimes peace comes from alikeness.

Sometimes peace comes from someone very much like you.

And you are very much like him.

Just like him you, too, belong to a broken family, prone to close yourself up around people, you don’t laugh too loud, talk too loud, you don’t say things you don’t mean.

You like maintaining a distance.

You like to hide behind a facade.

Again, you are just like him.

Even after knowing his views towards commitment, you never questioned him once. You never asked why he thinks what he thinks. You never once asked for anything more than what he could offer. You never demanded recognition from him.

You never said anything but still Yoongi knew that you were falling in love with him.

And right on that moment he knew - you would have been the one for him. Only if you two could travel to a parallel universe, where he wasn’t so pathetically in love with Gyuri, he would allow himself to fall for you.

That day when Gyuri came back, when she gracefully stepped into his life again as if nothing happened - he didn’t know what to feel or what he was feeling.

He didn’t know what if he was more happy or more regretful that the sand castle he built with you was about to tumble down sooner than he expected.

He always feared waves but Gyuri in the shape of a wave - he both feared and loathed it.

His sense of fear and resentment heightened when he felt you touching his knee under the table. You are just too kind, way too kind for your own good.

You stayed in this arrangement even after knowing Yoongi wouldn’t be able to return your feelings and you were still trying to comfort him when you yourself knew things were coming to an inevitable end.

At that moment Yoongi wished he never loved Gyuri to begin with.

“I will not force you to do anything you don’t want, Yoongi. I promise, I will not fight. Let’s give each other another chance please. I- I have been missing you terribly.” Gyuri had said standing behind the closed wooden door of the meeting room.

Yoongi’s heart lurched inside his chest a bit.

But it’s not the flattering kind.

When he looked into her eyes, he found sincerity but he couldn’t see himself reflecting in them.

That is why he said, “I don’t know, Gyuri. I don’t think it will be ideal for us -”

“I know the damage is done. But please please let’s try once more. Three months, let’s try for three months, for the sake of old times, our memories, for our love. I love you, Yoongi. And I know you love me too. So, please.” Gyuri had cut him off desperately.

Yoongi thought then. Getting into this trial with Gyuri would mean leaving you behind. Leaving you behind would mean setting you free from his grasps.

If Yoongi sets you free, you can move on and find everything that he can’t provide you with - love, a lover, maybe even a home.

So he had said yes.

“I love you so much.” Gyuri murmured on his chest.

“I love you too.” Yoongi didn’t mean it.

“.... but the lyrics just won’t come out. I have been trying to write ….”

For a fleeting moment, Yoongi heard Gyuri saying something about the lyrics but his brain didn’t register anything solid.

He had been zoning out, staring at the door, waiting for you to come in with your notebook and ipad, give everyone a tight-lipped smile and a muffled greeting and settle somewhere near him. But you were nowhere to be found.

When the door creaked open, his heart creaked too, only to be disappointed when Namjoon slipped in.

A moment later his heart creaked and cracked even more when Namjoon announced you had withdrawn from the project.

He should have felt relieved then. This is what he wanted, he wanted to set you free from his painful grip.

But that didn't mean he wouldn’t feel an unexplainable pain in his chest.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel something important sliding through his fingers.

At that moment Yoongi realized, he did the forbidden.

He got attached to you.

Every pore in Yoongi’s body oozed relief when he saw you for the first time in a month.

You look distressed but you look beautiful regardless.

He tried his best to appear nonchalant, stoic so that you don’t get a hint of the tempest that had been raging inside of him.

No matter how much he had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you - how you silently cried with him that night, how you didn’t hold him back when he left, how you didn’t object when he ended it all.

For once he wished you wouldn’t be so much like him.

For once he wished for you to ask something more from him.

“I can take care of it myself, Yoongi. You have a life to lead, you have better days ahead now, why would you even care about me? I was just a fleeting chapter anyway. Please- please don’t act like our time together meant anything to you. Please, I beg.” you broke down right before his eyes.

If he is reading between the lines properly then is that animosity?

Are you angry with him?

If he riles you up more will you confess? Will you ask for more?

Will you… will you ask him to come back? His thoughts swirled inside him making him feel dizzy.

“wasn’t it a given? A silent agreement that our time together wouldn’t mean much to any of us?” he pushed you more, even though he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say but he tried to pull the truth or the demand or whatever might it be, out of you.

And he didn’t even know why?

What does he even want?

Does he want you? Even the thought of wanting someone other than Gyuri scared him to death.

You nodded, “Yeah. You are right. Forget I have said anything. Bye.”

And with that you were gone.

For the second time in life Yoongi faced a loss.

However, unlike the first time, this time it was his fault. This time, he knew, a second chance would probably never come by.

He should have felt relief.

He felt a prospect of quiet, peaceful love sliding through his fingers instead.

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andvys · 1 year ago

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 25

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of unrequited love. love triangle. not proofread

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: As the summer is starting to come to an end, you begin to understand your feelings a little more. While Steve and Eddie struggle with their own.

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: So, I know I said that this would be the birthday chapter but I decided to split it! Do the angst first and give you the fluff later. I'd need much more time to finish it and I really wanted to give you guys something, so here ya go, enjoy it. Next chapter is gonna be silly, it’s gonna be fun (after a little angst in the beginning hehe)

Also for those who forgot who Dmitri is, it’s ‘Enzo’ from season 4.

oh and also, listen to this one while you read this chapter :')

series masterlist

The strong smell of oil lingers in the air, loud noises fill the large hall, laughter and chatter from the break room, the music from the radio at the front desk, yet none of the sounds manage to distract Eddie from the storm that is taking place in his mind.

Your words keep repeating themselves over and over again.

I wish I met you first, Eddie.

That night, he laid next to you and watched you sleep, thinking about your words, over and over again. He could not make sense of them.

What does it mean?

He could not even ask you what it meant, after you had said it, he was too shocked to even say anything, at that moment. He could only stare at you, his heart racing, his eyes wide as he watched you stare at his lips. His first instinct was to swoon over these few simple words, over the way you had looked at him, over the way you had showed up at his place because you missed him, over the way you rather wanted to be with him than at a party or somewhere else.

I wish I met you first, Eddie.

Does that mean that you would’ve been with him if you met him first?

Does that mean that he would’ve been the one for you?

Does that mean that you could’ve fallen for him instead?

That he could’ve had a chance?

In some way, you must feel something for him. It’s something that he never fully allowed himself to question, if you have feelings for him or not, he can’t get his hopes up, not when it comes to you. You are too perfect, too out of reach. You love Steve, you still love Steve, he knows it. Yet, your words made him question everything. Your friendship, the intimacy, the lingering touches, the stolen glances, your affection. But, that is all something that has been there from the start. It has always been so natural for you to be so close with him. It’s not something new, it might not even be anything special to you. Eddie might not be anything special to you, not the way Steve is, at least.

He could’ve been the one for you if it wasn’t for Steve.

He could’ve been.

You could’ve loved him. You could’ve.

“What’s with that long face?” Dmitri asks, his voice thick with the russian accent that everyone keeps teasing him for. With a slap on Eddie’s shoulder, he snaps him out of his thoughts, “pass me the screwdriver, boy.”

Eddie nods, not answering the question. He reaches for the tool, he hands it to the older man. Dmitri looks curious as he eyes the expression on his face but Eddie knows that he won’t ask. He’ll wait for him to speak up himself. But, that is something that Eddie usually never does. He’s never one to talk about his feelings, to ask for help or even advice, until now.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Dmitri mumbles, pulling away from the chevy, he flips the tool in his hand, leaning against the truck.

As Eddie thinks about the question that has been lingering in his mind, all weekend, he suddenly feels stupid. No answer will be one that he wants to hear.

“Forget it,” Eddie mumbles.

Dmitri raises his brows.

“Spit it out, come on.”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates this. He hates talking about his feelings, but he needs to.

“There’s uh, there’s this girl.”

“Ah, I knew it,” he chuckles. “It’s always about some girl when someone mops around all day and looks like this.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“She’s not some girl, she’s my best friend.”

“And you have feelings for her,” he says, stating the obvious.

Eddie licks his lips, he had never admitted it to anyone before, he had only admitted it to himself. He looks at him and nods weakly, afraid to say these words out loud.

“Yeah, but uh, she’s still in love with her ex boyfriend, who she’s friends with again,” he rolls his eyes. “Last Friday, she came to me, drunk and high and telling me how much she missed me and then she said something that’s been messing with my mind all fucking weekend!”

Eddie isn’t sure why he is telling him all that. Dmitri is friends with Wayne, a colleague and not even someone he’d consider a friend. But, maybe that’s what he needs, to talk to someone who is not a friend.

He considered talking to Robin but, knowing her, she’d only pick Steve’s side again and tell Eddie to take a step back.

Then, there is Gareth, who would only tease him about his crush on you and not be of any help.

Jeff would only give him false hope and encourage him to make a move on you, that is something that could potentially ruin your friendship, and that is something that is way too important to him. Chrissy would do just the same. The girl who had been snappy with him at first, won’t stop teasing him about his crush on you now.

Then there is Heather. He is scared of Heather.

“She told me that she wished that she met me first. What does it even mean? That we could’ve been something if we met first?” He asks, throwing his hands up as he voices his questions out loud for the first time. “We can’t be anything now because she’s already in love with him? Because she could never love me after loving him?” Eddie buries his hands in his curls, huffing. “Jesus Christ, I made peace with the fact I can never have her but fuck, she goes and says this.”

“You are way too negative, boy. Has anyone ever told you that? Who says that you can’t have her?”

“I’m not negative, I’m just seeing things the way they are.”

Dmitri shakes his head, scrunching his face up in disapproval.

“No, you are seeing things the way you want to see them because you refuse to believe that she could ever love you,” he says, pointing at him with the screwdriver. “You see her words negatively without even knowing what she actually meant.”

Eddie shakes his head, stubbornly.

“Tell me,” Dmitri sighs. “That guy, her ex boyfriend, did he break her heart?”

“Fucking crushed it,” Eddie frowns. “He left her for another girl. She was – she was so heartbroken, I think she still is.”

He nods, “alright, well, she went through heartbreak and a lot of hurt. But, now she has you. Maybe, she loves you, maybe she is even in love with you but she’s scared just like you are. She’s scared of losing you as a friend, of getting her heart broken again, the trust isn’t there anymore after she’s been left for someone else. Maybe she wants to be with you but she is struggling. If she met you first, she would’ve never been with him, in the first place, she wouldn’t have gotten her heart broken, she would’ve loved you fearlessly and you would’ve loved her too, you wouldn’t have left her for someone else, would you?”

No, Eddie would never do this to you. Eddie would rather get his heart broken than be the one to break yours.

“Never.”

“See, things could’ve been so simple if she met you first, that’s what she was trying to say. But now, she has all these fears and all these trust issues and probably thinks she isn’t good enough – just what you are dealing with too, Eddie. I don’t know your girl but I’m sure she’s worth fighting for. And, from what Wayne told me about you two, you seem to make each other happy.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, he is stunned.

Wayne talks about the two of you?

He doesn’t know how to feel about Dmitri’s words, knowing that they might hold more false hope than the actual truth for him.

But, Eddie knows, he feels that there is something. And yet, even if, your feelings for Steve will always be stronger.

“But she still loves him.”

“Was he her first love?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Well, you know what? First love is always gonna be something special. I would know.”

Eddie raises his brows at him.

“I used to be married.”

Eddie’s head snaps up, he looks at him in surprise, “wait, really? I never knew.”

Dmitri chuckles, shrugging, “well, it’s not important anymore.”

“Why aren’t you together anymore?”

Dmitri sighs, he places the tool back on the table, reaching for the hanky in his pocket, he looks down at his oil stained hands and begins to clean them.

“Things just didn’t work out. She met someone else, fell in love and uh our marriage was just history.”

“Oh,” Eddie frowns.

“Yeah, and you know what? I hated her for a while, she hurt me. But I let go, I moved on and I accepted that I will always love her, despite how much I hated her for the first few months after she left. You can’t erase the past, we used to have something good before it all went wrong. She was special to me and even now, it’s something special when I look back on the good moments. But, never in a million years would I go back to it again or leave my girlfriend for her if she ever wanted me back. The past is the past. And first love is rarely ever true love.”

Eddie understands what he is trying to say, yet somehow, he struggles to believe that you could ever move on from Steve.

“Don’t give up, Eddie. She won’t always be hung up on him.”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles. Though, he can’t help but struggle to believe it. Maybe it’s his stubborn mind that can’t let go of the idea of you being unable to let go of Steve for someone like him or maybe, he is just too afraid to get his hopes up only to lose not only his heart but also his mind at the end of it all.

“Have you ever been in love? I mean, besides with her?” Dmitri asks Eddie, who furrows his brows and shakes his head.

“Nah, not really,” Eddie mumbles, snorting as he thinks back to his younger self. The one who closed himself off completely, never letting anyone in to even see a glimpse of the real Eddie. “It was never for me, love. I mean, I had a few crushes here and there but it was never anything serious, you know? But shit, I always watched her when we were still in high school,” Eddie says, not even feeling the smile that is creeping up on his face as he thinks back to those days. “I’m pretty sure I failed math class because of her, she was always next to me – she always chose the seats next to me, I’m certain that she wasn’t even aware that she was doing it but she was there and I was there, and she was so focused on class while I spent the whole hour just staring at her. We weren’t friends back then but she always smiled at me even though we never really talked until last summer. We spent a night together after she had gotten into a fight with her boyfriend and then, she started paying more attention to me in school and then we became friends and then we got closer and closer and my plan to never catch feelings flew out the window,” he says, dramatically.

Dmitri chuckles at Eddie, shaking his head.

“What’s life without love, Eddie?”

“Less suffering?” He mumbles.

“Well, yeah. Some people get lucky though.”

Eddie fears that he won’t be one of those who will ever get lucky, especially when it comes to love.

But maybe, maybe there is just the smallest sliver of hope inside of him.

August is coming to an end, the summer days are slowly passing, fall is coming closer and so is Steve’s birthday. It’s tomorrow. It’s been a while since you had last seen him. It’s been a while since you had hung out with him in a group, let alone. The past few weeks, you have spent a lot of time by yourself, you needed it, you needed it to collect your feelings. Robin was right.

Though, you could not stay away from Eddie for too long. He is your best friend, you can’t be without him and you won’t let your feelings ruin yet another friendship.

Despite the distance between you and Steve, you made it a mission to go on a hunt for the perfect birthday present for him. It’s something that Heather rolled her eyes at when you told her about it, this morning. ‘Who in their right mind would buy their ex boyfriend a birthday present?’ She had asked, scoffing. Really, no one would do that, no one except for you. But you and Steve, you have a history that you can’t and don’t want to erase. Not only was he your best friend, once. He was also there when you needed him, when he didn’t even have to be there.

He gave you a birthday present and he kept up the tradition the two of you had.

You know that he isn’t alone anymore, that he has Dustin and Robin now, people who care for him, people who love him and won’t leave him hanging on a day like this, but you still want to do something that you used to do when you were still.. friends.

“I’m telling you, y/n, the Star Wars movie collection would be the best decision ever!”

Dustin exclaims as he walks through the downtown streets next to you.

“Dustin, I know you’re a little Star Wars geek but there’s just no way that he will be happy to unwrap a collection of movies that he’s not even a fan of!”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you, “listen, if there’s someone that can turn him into a ‘Star Wars geek’ then that’s you!”

“But I’m not a Star Wars geek,” you mumble, furrowing your brows at the boy.

“Then you and Steve can become geeks together,” he smiles enthusiastically. “You could have movie nights, just watch Star Wars together,” he winks.

You shake your head at him.

“I see what you’re trying to do and you’re really no help, Dustin.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he feigns innocence. “You need a birthday present for Steve and asked for help, so that’s what I’m doing, I’m trying to help.”

“Well, I was thinking I’d get him a cool bracelet–” “Boring!” He yawns.

“Hey!” You frown, raising your hand, you ruffle his curls, making him groan in annoyance.

“Stop!”

You chuckle at him when he slaps your hand away. Pointing at you with a stern look on his face, “you really need to stop ruining my hair!”

“Don’t worry, the Farrah Fawcett spray holds your perfect hairstyle together, Dusty bun.” You giggle. “How’s Suzie doing, by the way?”

He rolls his eyes again, sighing, dramatically.

“You’re like the older sister I never wanted.”

You gasp, putting your hand over your heart, “ouch, I thought you liked me.”

“I do, and I don’t even know why,” he jokes, giggling when you pretend to cry.

“You only like me cause I drive you around when your mama Steve is working.”

He laughs, throwing his head back.

“If he is the mom, then what does that make you and Eddie?”

You furrow your brows, looking up as you pretend to think, “hmm, Eddie is the chaotic dad and I’m uh, I dunno, the cool babysitter.”

“The babysitter who is secretly dating both the mom and the dad,” he says with a smirk.

“Dustin!” You exclaim as you halt in your tracks, while he keeps walking, laughing when he turns around to look at you, he keeps working backwards.

“You should’ve seen your face!”

“Very funny!”

He stops walking when he notices something in the window at the video store, “ooh, look, Star Wars! I’m gonna check it out, you should too!” He says before he turns around and rushes into the store.

You roll your eyes, groaning. You’re about to follow him inside the store, when your eyes fall on the couple leaving the restaurant across the street. Enzo’s. You have only been there once. Steve took you there on a date, it was an amazing night, you remember every detail of it. How he gave you the prettiest bouquet of flowers that you had ever seen when he picked you up, how he kissed you and told you how beautiful you looked when you wore a midnight blue dress, how sweet and nice he was, so different from the night before when you fought at his party. He was a gentleman that night, he held you softly, he kissed you gently, he held your hand at the restaurant and he only looked at you, not at the young waitress that kept trying to throw him glances. He only looked at you because you were the one he wanted. That night, he had put a ring on your middle finger, promising that the next one would be on your ring finger, only to crush your heart weeks later when he told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore, that he fell in love with her.

That night has haunted you for weeks and months after he had dumped you. Every night, you glared at the ceiling, thinking about the things he had said to you that night, the promises he made, the hope he gave, the love he gave. How you had sat there so pathetically in love not knowing that only days later he would meet her.

You feel even more pathetic now because it still hurts, because it still shakes the ground beneath you, because it still feels like it just happened yesterday when you think back to that day. It shouldn’t hurt anymore, at least not like this but you get sucked back into the past so easily.

All it ever took was to hear his name to feel the pain all over again. But months have passed, things have changed, you have changed and it all got a little easier. You’re even friends again.

But now, it’s the memories, the one that you have locked away, the ones that are still holding you back.

As you stare at the restaurant, realization floods through you like a cold wave that would make you gasp and shudder.

You haven’t let go of them, of the memories, of the past, of the old him. Even after so many months, even after making yourself and everyone else believe that you had let go, you never really did. And that is the cause of all of the messes in your head and in your heart. The past keeps calling for you, the past keeps pulling you back.

You feel stuck. You are stuck. You are still stuck in the past.

It’s why you can’t move on, it’s why you can’t find happiness, it’s why you can’t find yourself in this timeline because you are stuck in a time that no longer exists.

You never let go, you never let go of him, you never let go of the anger and the pain that is rooted so deeply inside of you. It’s not even his fault, it’s your own, because you couldn’t let go of all the memories you have made with him, good and bad.

You have a second chance with him now, you gave him one, despite how wrong it was to do so, you gave him and your friendship a second chance because you did not want to lose him again. He is right in front of you and he is trying, he is trying to be good, he is trying to be your friend. Yet, you kept holding onto something that died a long time ago.

Dustin calls your name, but you are still staring at the restaurant.

“Hey,” Dustin waves his hand in front of you, watching you in concern, “you… okay?”

You snap out of your thoughts, blinking. You clear your throat, looking into Dustin’s worried eyes, “y-yeah!”

He looks back, checking out what you’ve been staring at for so long.

“You uh, don’t plan on buying him a restaurant do you?”

You crack a smile, shaking your head at the young teen.

“Come on, I gotta show you something, you’re gonna love it!” He grins as he grabs your hand and drags you into the store, pulling you away from something that had thrown your world upside down, yet again.

The window is open in his room, the cold breeze kisses his skin, distant thunder crashes through the sky but lighting is yet to be seen. The room is silent, as is the rest of the house, as always. Steve is sitting on his bed, his eyes keep flickering back and forth between the watch on his nightstand and the telephone.

He is waiting, waiting for something that might not happen this year.

It’s almost midnight. It’s almost his birthday.

He is willing you to call. He needs you to. He needs to hear your voice, it’s been too long since he had last heard you, since he had last seen you. You had distanced yourself from everyone for a moment, but especially from him. Robin had told him that you needed it, that you needed some time to yourself. And while he understood why, he still felt sad when you stopped showing up at Scoops Ahoy every lunch break.

He glances at the watch. The clock strikes 12, but the phone isn’t ringing and he fears that it won’t at all. He knew it wouldn’t. He knew you wouldn’t call. Yet, he can’t help but feel disappointment sinking through him. This will be the first year without a call from you at midnight on his birthday.

He closes his eyes.

His parents aren’t here, and they won’t be when he wakes up in the morning. They won’t be here, he already knows it. Despite the promise that they had made, he knows they won’t show up. And this time, you won’t be here either.

For the first time in a while, he feels like crying again.

It’s 12:01 when the shrill sound of the ringing telephone almost makes him jump up from his bed. He opens his eyes, staring at it for a second before he picks up the phone with a pounding heart and hope in his eyes.

“Hello?”

For a moment, he can only hear his racing heart and silence on the other line.

“Hey.��

It’s you.

You called him, after all.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you whisper in a way that mends his hurting heart in an instant.

He blinks the tears away that have threatened to fall just seconds ago.

“T-Thank you, Dolly,” he whispers. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

“I always call.”

“Yeah, but.. things are different now. I’d understand if you didn’t call,” he says, though he wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. For weeks, he had craved to see you, to hear your voice, to feel your presence. But especially tonight, because this used to be something special to you and him.

You are quiet. For a long minute, you don’t say anything. Steve can tell that you are struggling.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yes, we’re friends,” he whispers, sadly.

He pictures the look on your face, right now. He thinks that it matches the sad one on his.

“I missed you,” Steve whispers.

He can hear your breath hitching in your throat.

“I missed you too.”

That alone, is enough to make his heart flutter in his chest. You missed him.

You clear your throat.

“S-So are you throwing a big party tomorrow?”

Steve lays back, letting himself fall into the soft pillows.

“No, I think I’m done with those.”

There haven’t been many parties that ever brought him anything good. Most of them ended badly for him.

“Oh, but you always used to throw birthday parties.”

He can hear the frown in your voice and he can’t help but smile at that.

“I’m getting old,” he jokes.

You laugh at his words, not knowing that the sound of it causes his heart to beat wildly.

“Oh yeah, you’re such an old man, Harrington,” you tease. “How’d you manage to keep the good looks?” You ask with a giggle.

His eyes widen and his cheeks heat up. He can feel the blush on his cheeks now.

“I uh– well, I eat healthy and I work out,” he mumbles, scrunching his face up.

“You work out, huh? Just when you leave the basketball team, you start working out even more.”

He chuckles. He raises his hand towards his hair, running his fingers through it.

“Well, I get bored after work and when Robin and Dustin aren’t around to be little shitheads, I use the gym that my dad built for no reason. That old man never uses it.”

You snort.

“You should start playing DnD with the guys.”

“You mean with Eddie?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, well, Eddie rarely plays nowadays, he’s busy with work and the band but yeah, sure. You two should spend some time together.”

Steve raises his brows.

Him and Eddie, spending time together?

Eddie hates his guts. And, Steve doesn’t even blame him for it. But, he’s not a big fan of him either. Eddie has something that he wants back.

The thought of spending time with him seems like something out of a fever dream.

“I think you’d actually get along if you both tried.”

He frowns at your words, shaking his head as though you can see him.

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry but no.”

“You’re both so stubborn, I swear. Trust me, you’re not that much different from each other – Eddie also loves KFC.”

Steve snorts at your words, rolling his eyes.

“Did it traumatize you when he took you to KFC for the first time? You know, cause you always hated it so much when I took you there?”

You giggle.

“Oh, it was so traumatizing, Steve. I almost had a panic attack.”

“Always so dramatic, honey,” he says so naturally.

“You know me.”

You are both smiling, both laying in your beds as you talk on the phone for the first time in forever. This used to be a regular thing a long time ago.

“How are you?” He asks the question that has been lingering on his mind forever. “I haven’t seen you since we met up for lunch.” When Robin had crushed the ‘date’ that he was looking forward to.

“I’m... good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m good.”

Steve had wondered what went wrong. That day you had met up with him, you seemed so nervous, so anxious and worried. He could not ask you back then, he didn’t want to pressure you. And then, you and Robin had disappeared. When she came back without you and she told him that you needed some time to yourself, that he should stay away from you for a little while, he couldn’t help but feel sick with worry.

“Robin said you needed some time to yourself, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I-I uh, I just needed to be alone for a little.”

“Oh.”

Alone. Alone but with Eddie.

“So, what are you doing for your birthday if you’re not throwing a party?”

“I’m gonna have dinner with my parents.”

“Oh! They’re gonna be there?” You ask, surprised.

“Yeah,” Steve says, knowing that they won’t be there. He wishes you would be there. He wishes that he could spend the day with you. But he can’t ask, knowing that you will say yes only because you won’t be able to say no.

“That’s nice, Steve.” You say. In a way, it sounds like there is something else you want to tell him.

“Yeah..”

“D-Do you remember when we went to Enzo’s, last year?” You ask after a beat of silence.

“Yes, of course, I remember,” he says so simply, like he didn’t crush your heart weeks after giving false hope and promises he never kept.

You’re quiet, again. And despite not seeing you, he knows that you’re sad when he feels his heart clenching.

“It was.. one of the best dates I’ve ever been on, Steve.”

Your voice has changed so suddenly, it sounds sick with sadness.

He remembers it, he remembers it just the way you do.

Right now, he wants nothing more than to go back to that night, just to see you smile again, just to feel your touch again, just to be with you again. He wants to go back to a night where you had still loved him, where he hadn’t ruined anything yet.

“Maybe we can go back there sometime,” he whispers with hope in his heart.

“Yeah, maybe…”

Though, while he sounds hopeful, you sound uncertain.

And he knows, the reason isn't your past. But something, someone else.

next chapter

taglist for friends and mutuals

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #Spotify

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 9 days ago

Text

It felt so real.

What - Yearning. Daryl misses you and your family so badly that it seems his imagination is dreaming you up to keep him from going crazy

When - big time jump to when Daryl finds himself in France (spinoff season 1, episode 2)

Where - the school in France

Pronouns - she/her (howdy, wife reader!)

TWs - language, reference to child loss, self-loathing, sappiness (it's fanfiction, y'all XD ) and Daryl gets a little...'excited' (mild instance of sexual arousal between a married couple)

Perspective - Daryl 3rd person POV

References - some are yet unpublished because this is a significant time skip, which means a few little surprises. Others can be found throughout the series!

Series? - the Slowpoke Series! It's a fun, slow time that sticks to canon to help maintain immersion (as much as you can with adding an oc lol) ;)

Can I read this chapter if I haven't started any part of the Slowpoke Series yet? - definitely

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

“It's so good to hold you again, sugar.”

Those words, that voice, made him relax into the bed. She was there again! He’d last imagined her when he was being tended to by those nuns, so it was only, what, a handful of days ago?

Wasn’t enough for him, he missed her so much.

“Dare, I want them all. Full stop, every last one.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I knew you’d say that.”

“As if you aren’t wantin’ to take at least a handful. All those kids with just an old woman to care for them…well, now she’s dead, but…” She sighed and held him tighter. “Lou reminds me of Enid. Don’t you think they look similar? M’sorry her name had to be Lou. A lot of things over here are making you homesick, ain’t they? And that poor boy in Maine, named TJ, too.”

He pulled her closer, doing his best to not wake himself up so Y/N would stay with him. He wished that kid, with same name as his oldest, has just gone back to his girlfriend like he'd told him to.

“Our own Louise lights a candle with me for you every day. Those nuns would be proud.”

He swore to himself that whenever these dreams happen, there’s got to be some way it isn’t just all in his head. It was way too real.

It felt so, so real.

But that Louise was lighting candles for him, he knew because Carol told him when she spoke to him briefly over the radio in Maine...

“Did Carol also mention that Lydia’s been drawing you? Or did I write part that in the letter?”

“The letter. Carol and I didn't have much time to say anything.” Y/N wrote him a long, long letter. One part mentioned how both Lydia and Glenn took to getting nightmares again after he left. At Maggie’s suggestion, Lydia had been drawing his picture. Apparently it helps her feel safer.

RJ had been 'retreating more than usual,' also. Adam was acting out, too, so she wrote. If Daryl was figuring it right, the boys losing another father figure probably hadn’t helped.

“Dare, he’s three. Three-year-olds don’t only act out with foster parents, Adam would be doin’ the same with Alden. And RJ is without Michonne right now. That's the greater culprit.”

His wife also wrote how Coco just started calling her ‘mama,’ and correcting her to say ‘auntie’ wasn’t working yet. She chalked it up to her being a motherly figure and the baby assuming all caring ladies were ‘mama.’ He wondered if Gabe knew yet. Ain’t like Y/N hasn’t been a mama to that little girl since Rosita died. Actually, nah, Gabe obviously knew; Y/N would’ve (legit) run to him immediately and told him what was up.

The faces of all their kids ran through his mind over and over, Lydia and Judith and RJ included. Then his wife’s face. Carl. Adam. Hershel. Gracie. Coco. Carol. Ezekiel. Maggie. Rosita. Aaron. Jesus. Jerry. Rick. Merle. T-Dog.

“Oo, I want to be here when T-Dog visits. Has he ever visited?” Y/N chirped.

He wished. “Once. I just think about him a lot.”

“Bummer. He must have been so thrilled when we actually did name our first after him, without you even tellin’ me nothing about how he’d teased you on it! Say, what about Uncle Jesse? Does he visit? He must’ve been happy TJ’s middle name is for him!”

He shook his head. You even visited me before I was smart enough to fall for you. When I fell down the ridge. It was you and Merle.

A sneezing from one of the kids in another part of the building resounded four times. It woke him briefly.

He closed his eyes, focused…

It was okay, Y/N was there. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief.

“I am a mite surprised you didn’t take the floor anyway,” Y/N admitted, peeking over his side to look at where the nun Isabelle was laying down next to him. “Or share with Laurent so the two sisters could share.”

“Neither of them trust me enough for me to share a room with the boy. And she sounded like she didn’t want me on the floor. Must be that I’m gettin’ too old." All I feel these days is tired and sore. "Hell, I don’t think I could get up if I slept on the floor.”

Angel, I ain’t the same without you, I’m a fucking mess. Look at the shit show that I’ve made of things.

His wife whispered, “Hey. You know I can hear that, I’m from your imagination.”

“Y/N, I miss you so fucking much.” Baby, I’m so goddamned far from you all and I don’t know how I’m gonna get out this time.

“No cusses in front of the kids, Daryl,” She cupped her belly, the one he was imagining she might have again. Carol, when she spoke to him, used what little time there was to mention how Y/N was avoiding taking a test because she missed him too much. Y/N didn’t say nothing about it in her letter she'd packed in there during one of his home visits.

How’s that for a reason to hate yourself?

“You should,” shot back another familiar voice. “Leaving your own kin, leaving your woman. Ain’t you learned nothing, boy? Didn’t think you was that much of a deadbeat but here’s proof the apple didn’t fall far from the tree."

Merle.

Damn, it’d been ages!

"Yup. Nanu nanu," his brother mocked, waving his metal stump and glaring. "Here you are, in the white flag capital of the world, surrounded by Euro kooks instead of your own blood.”

“Oh, Daryl, don’t imagine him as cruel again!" Y/N cooed. "Let us both love you if you’re gonna go about having us here.”

Daryl breathed slowly so he wouldn’t wake up. When he felt level enough, he answered, “I don’t have much control over what y’all say.”

“I thought you had some control over it.” Y/N gently pushed his hair off his face. He loved it when she did that. Delicately, she examined the new scar gracing his forehead.

“I blame that old coot what you let whup you on the head as to why you’re seeing things,” his brother crooned.

His wife nodded. “Another concussion, you poor man. But this isn’t a hallucination, it’s just a dream. It’s that good kind of dream where you’re not fully awake but not fully asleep.” She trailed her hand along his forearm.

“Y/N, you’re too good for this sad sack.”

She fired back faster than Daryl knew his imagination could go. “Merle. You love your brother to death and you’re happy he got hisself a wife and family.” Y/N had pushed herself up to sitting in order to scold him. “Tell me you don’t swell with pride seein’ him be a good father and good husband. The cycle stopped with him, and you’re proud of it.”

Daryl, a hand protectively around his wife’s side, was busy trying to figure out what Merle was even doing, whittling?

Ah, he was eating an peach with the knife attached to his metal stump.

Weird, he thought ghosts didn’t eat.

“Maybe I ain’t a real ghost, retard,” was a blunt comeback. “Maybe I’m just a poor copy you conjured up in that concussed little head of yours.” Merle then turned to Y/N. “As for you, kitten, he left you and your brats! Left you when you was up the duff, left you when you don’t even got all your legs no more! How’s he supposed to protect you when he’s out here?”

“Merle William Dixon! I ain’t ‘kitten’ and those ‘brats’ are your nieces and nephews, dick. Noah’s middle name is even for you, so you best watch your mouth, hear?”

Merle smirked and sliced off another wedge from the peach. “There’s my sister-in-law. I had to make sure your square self at least still had that fire in ya.” He offered her a slice, but she crossed her arms.

The expression on her face was so disappointed it made Daryl’s chest tug.

His brother duly inclined his head in apology and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, ma’am. Y’all are doing a good job on them brats. And this sumbitch ain’t nothing like our old man, so there’s something.” Merle chopped another piece of fruit. “And it’s always a pleasure to roll with a fellow amputee, Y/N. Not many can relate to how trippy the phantom limb bullshit can get.”

She tilted her head in agreement, rubbed the spot above her prosthetic calf, and settled back down next to her husband with a big sigh. “I do wish Daryl imagined you in a kinder light, Merle, but, either way, I’m happy he watched Mork & Mindy because it got him thinkin’ about you — and now you’re here for him!” Her hand grazed along her bump. “And, you meant to say to him that I was possibly pregnant.”

“Dunno about that, sister, you’ve always seem to know when you been knocked up.”

“That ain’t incorrect,” she confessed, curling in on herself. “Even if I was, it’s possible we had a loss again, Merle. Whether early or late this time.”

“Another reason he shouldn’t be screwin’ around out here.” Merle next words sliced him as if his heart were the peach in his hands. “I'm angry for your own good, lady. What if you had to handle another kid's death, this time on your own?”

The bad memories crashed down like waves threatening to drown him in grief and guilt. He wanted to pummel his brother in the hopes Merle would best him and make him pay for leaving her.

But Merle wasn't actually there. Neither was Y/N. It was pretend. Daryl was just beating himself up in his head, and failing even at that.

Y/N said the words as Daryl thought them: “Why are you twisting the knife?” She swallowed and covered her face with her hands. “Maybe, this mission is w-worth the sacrifice of, of us not havin’ him here right now.”

No. It’s not.

I know you said that before I left to make it hurt less, but it’s not. Listen to your stutter, you know it ain’t.

I should be back there with you, not constantly leaving for weeks at a time. I'm supposed to be home now. I'd told Carol when I reached her on the radio back in Maine that I'd be there in a about a week, which is what she would've told you. This whole thing is horseshit!

“Darlin’, think on happier things or you’ll upset yourself awake or into another nightmare,” Y/N soothed. "You almost woke from anger at Merle just there, which is really just anger at yourself." Her fingers laced into his where his hand rested on her belly. His wish was that his dream would include feeling the baby move. He loved that feeling. Except, he must’ve been waking up because his dream wasn’t letting him feel her hand or her belly very much when he tried. Still, it felt real enough. He’d take what he could get.

“Might could be fun to think back on how beautiful it was making them, if indeed we made another one.” She walked two fingers along his bicep. “Would’ve happened on or around the last night before you left. Or,” she mused, then started to giggle. At that moment, he could even imagine the vibrations of her laughter as if she were really, actually laying beside him. It felt so real! “I wouldn’t be surprised if made them on the day itself, that was soo — oh man, hold up!” She pulled away from him and eyed his crotch in suspicion. “No sex dreams allowed, there’s a bride of Christ in the room! Keep that thing down, deal?”

He almost laughed out loud, and possibly in real life. So long as he didn’t wake up, he didn’t care if he laughed in his sleep. The reactions, the tone, it was all just like his Y/N. And he could hope they had another kid. He’d take as many as came along.

Aw, shit, how far would she even be along, if this one made it? How long had he been away?

“Goddamn, y’all, is this some kinda kink you got?” Merle cut in. “Me and the penguin are still here, you perverts.”

“Oh hush, neither of us are actually here. Him and me aren’t doing nothin’, he just got a little aroused,” Y/N countered. “And to answer your question about another baby, Daryl, I reckon you’ll find out when you come back.” She shrugged. “Unless you reach us on a radio? Eugene is diligent about it, especially now.”

That was another thing she wrote in her letter. Eugene and his radio.

The helplessness crashed back down on him. “I’m tryin’ babe.” He didn’t want to start crying. The nun was next to him and he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop crying once he started.

Merle jeered, “Try harder, Darylina.”

He was right, Daryl needed to. He needed to try harder! What kind of washed out fuck-up was he?

“Sweetheart,” his wife called softly. Her hand caressed his cheek. It felt so, so real. “Margaret — a woman who knows the pain of losing a husband — trusted this to you because you survive. And I trusted you to go, because you’ve got the brains, the balls, and the grit. You don’t die or get bit, Daryl, no. You always come home.”

Bullshit. Not this time.

“Not bullshit. Yes, this time.” She looked to the window. “Merle, back me up.”

“Based on your track record, she’s right, little brother.”

“You may not believe you can or will,” she lifted herself up on her hands and leaned forward to kiss him. It had to have been real. It felt so, so real. But he was not about to open his eyes to see if by some miracle it was. “Despite how you feel right now, my bet is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

Shit, he was about to break down. “Y/N, maybe I don’t deserve that. You saw the shit-show what got me here.” And there came the tears. “I left you, that’s all there is to this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, that word.” Y/N wasn’t a fan of the word ‘deserve.’ “On that topic, what an honest prayer you said to bless the food! So many times you used ‘deserve,’ ugh, but,” she paused, “God loves honesty like that. Very, very much.”

She kissed his eyelids where the tears were starting to slip out, kissed the scar that never seemed to fade, then settled back against the side of his chest and curled one leg around him. With her hand, she rubbed comforting circles along his torso. “And He don’t punish or withhold, that’s just our fallen world. His hand is always out for you,” she murmured. “Say, how long do you think you can keep up with imaginin’ my theology?”

“Angel, I’m already at my limit. That’s why part of me thinks you’ve gotta be here somehow, some parts of this feel so real. Smart stuff like this ain’t in my head.”

“TJ and Georgia would call out your self-hate if they could hear you. You’d owe them a lot of quarters. Hm, and euros, seeing as you're here.”

His chest tugged at their names. “How are they?”

TJ, their oldest besides Lydia, had long hair like the little French kid here. Just one other thing that ripped at Daryl’s heartstrings to make him ache so bad for home it shocked him that he wasn’t bleeding out.

“They’re as good as gold and better. Just like their father.” That phrase he knew was from his memory because she’d said it before. “All of us miss you like crazy. Postal level.”

You shouldn’t.

“Daryl.” Her hand gripped his. There’s no way it wasn’t real. It felt so real. “When I was broken after Carl's death, and I claimed the same stuff — that you should leave me and TJ, that you needed someone better, that your life would be better if we weren’t a part of it — how much did it rip you up? ’Cause even if I hadn’t told you this before, you would have to understand how it’s tearing my insides to shreds hearin’ you think the same.”

Calm. He had to stay calm or he’d be alone again.

“I’m right,” he whispered.

“I have to disagree.”

“I —” his voice went up. He switched tactics and spoke to his brother. “Merle, talk some sense into her. I failed. This is it, this is—”

“—You did screw shit up like a royal turd, but your lady would rip my danglers off if I went along with your pretty little pity party.”

Believe it or not, the tough love helped. Felt genuine, as if Merle really was shouting some sense into him. It felt so real.

He caught his wife giving Merle an air high-five. “Thank you, Merle.”

In hindsight, Daryl figured it must’ve be because Merle, in Daryl’s imagination, had to raise his metal arm to return the five. He taunted Y/N, “You’re welcome, peg-leg.”

Dream or not, Daryl was fixing to bark, but his wife playfully kicked her own prosthetic and taunted back, “Love you, gimpy.”

His brother was smug. “Square.”

As if Y/N hadn’t heard that before.“Trailer trash.”

As if Merle hadn’t heard that before. “Goody-two shoes.”

“Two shoes? Ahem,” Y/N drawled as prim and proper as a southern belle. “Did we not just establish how I only require but one shoe these days?”

Merle slapped his thigh and cackled like a hyena and Daryl couldn’t help but do the same. Y/N joked about her missing calf like she got paid for it, pirate jokes to no end.

Daryl hadn’t felt this light in months, not even close to it since leaving home.

…And to think, it was all a lie.

All fake.

They weren’t really there. Not his wife, not his dead brother. It was all in his head.

“Oh, my sweet mangy hick. Enough moping and angst, enjoy the moment! Merle and I really did a fair job on our banter just there. And you never know, Merle could really be here, seein’ as he’s dead.”

“Y/N, I even miss bickering with ya, goddamn,” he breathed.

“It is one of our love languages. That reminds me — you’re doing great with the French, Dare!”

She can’t be serious. Or, rather, he himself can’t be serious. “Babe, I ain’t spoken a word of it. The letters don’t matter half the time. I swear, these people sound drunk.”

Merle snickered, “Hell, even I speak better French than him. Voulez vous coucher av—”

“—Well, I meant like when you used the dictionary to translate that conjugated verb.” Her voice had gone down when she said this and it sounded, well…how it usually sounded when she was turned on. “If I were there, the part where I’d push your suspenders off your shoulders would drive me wild…”

Stay calm or you’ll wake up, Daryl.

And you realllly don’t want to start a sex dream with some other chick in the room. A nun!

“Get a room, horndogs. The word was ‘conjugated,’ not ‘conjugal,’” Merle spat. “This is why you got all them kids.”

His wife made one of her signature huffs, but didn’t say nothing back to Merle. Into Daryl’s ear, she sympathized, “Being horny is so annoyin’.”

Ha. Blushing even in his dreams. Part of him wondered if he was cracking up in his sleep, too, but either way, it felt good. Felt real. It felt so, so real. “I don’t even know what ‘conjugated’ means, Y/N.”

“Yes you do, otherwise I wouldn’t say it. I’m a figment of your imagination, remember?” Aw man, why’d she have to nuzzle him in the crook of his neck? He loved it when she did that. Mmm, hot damn it felt so real… “And you know that you doin’ something like conjugating a verb in another language would be sexy to me.”

“I told y’all jackrabbits to keep your britches on. Now, Daryl: ‘conjugate’ is when you make the verb agree grammatically with the subject. You’ve heard that word before,” Merle explained. Seemed out of character. And the room looked strange, there was—it was another room now?

Daryl’s thoughts turned to when Y/N and Rosita would speak Spanish. Listening as Judith helped TJ and RJ with phonics. Watching Georgia sing to baby Louise that song Siddiq had taught her in, what language was it?

“Hey. Dummy,” Merle scoffed. “You’re driftin’ off, sweet boy. Gotta stay a teensy bit lucid if you want us here.”

So that’s why the room had just looked different. He’d been slipping.

“I still don’t get how this happens, which is why I think you’re actually here,” Daryl said to both of them. “Merle, you’re probably in…somewhere in-between.”

“What, I don’t get to be in heaven yet? Y/N, you hearin’ this uppity sumbitch?”

“He still has trouble believing in such things, Merle, especially lately. I prayed for your soul, so I got hope.”

“Thank you, sister.”

“Anytime.” Y/N looked up at Daryl and smiled. “Then what about me, dude? I ain’t dead, pinky promise. So, how is it that I come to be here?”

Yeah, he’ll be as sappy as he wants with his wife of ten years. “Maybe you’re dreamin’ about me, too.”

Merle’s kissy noises were interrupted by Daryl firmly telling him to get out after which Y/N smooched him harder than she’d had in his imagination since he’d left America. The smell of her, the sounds she made, the way she would lift her head so he could bury his face in her neck, it all felt so real.

It was when she ran her hand lower down his abdomen and almost reached his you-know-what that it all stopped cold. “Sorry! Aw, shoot — Merle! Get back in here, quick, we got carried away! Well, t-technically it was all you, Dare, but — just, please don’t get a stiffy with a nun in the room!”

“Someone should put that on a shirt,” his brother called.

“Ew, no, Merle! Good Moses, maybe I really should ought to be there if you’re startin’ to imagine messed up t-shirt slogans.” She was only teasing. “Ooh, but if I were really there I could meet little Sister Sylvie! So far, I like her.”

“I knew you would.” Daryl grinned. “The way she is with the boy, she reminds me of you.”

If only you were really here, angel.

Wait, no, I don’t want you here because you wouldn’t be safe. I need you safe.

She brought his hand to her lips. “I know what you meant, sugar.”

Unexpectedly, the nun shifted on the bed, nearly jolting him fully awake.

Slow breaths. Keep your eyes shut, do not open them!

He kept them shut tight and pictured where Y/N had been to try and keep her there.

“What am I, chopped pig’s feet?” Merle grunted.

Daryl relaxed. Merle was still there, and he got back the feeling of Y/N beside him.

“You know,” his wife considered. While she was still there, he was having trouble visualizing her. Was he still close to waking up? “That Sister Isabelle is willin’ to risk sharing a room with a strange American says a lot about how much she’ll give to protect the boy and the others here.”

“Still damn weird she didn’t just share a room, the three of ’em.”

“It is. It’s really weird.” Y/N rested her forehead on his chest. He felt the warmth of her breathing against him. If he focused really hard, he could just about imagine the feel her heartbeat, too. “Maybe she’s fixing to be the first line of defense, with all them other kids livin’ here.”

“Still weird,” he grunted. “Hey, where’d my—” He looked around in his imagination at the room. “Where’d my brother go?”

“Maybe he wanted another peach. Or, maybe you're too close to wakin’ up. Be careful, darling.”

He breathed slowly and kept his eyes locked shut. His frustration was growing. It had felt so real, why was it going away?

Calm. Stay calm so she’ll stay.

“It was also unusual,” Y/N thought, “how Sister Izzy—”

“—Sister Izzy?”

He imagined that her mouth would have twisted in embarrassment. “Yes, I’d probably definitely give her that nickname. You sure know how to portray me realistically.” She started again, “It’s unusual how she didn’t accommodate for your maybe-not-wantin’-to-be-seen-in-the-tub-by-a-nun. By anyone, for that matter. Although,” she reconsidered, “they were nurses who had to change your undies and cauterize your wound, weren’t they?” When he pictured her bottom lip beginning to tremble, he held her closer. “Oh, I hate that they all died but for two! What has this world come to? Why would those men kill them?”

That was something.

The dream got easier to maintain. He felt the curve of her waist. The rise and fall of her chest. It felt real again. It felt so, so real.

Relieved, he didn’t know what to say at first other than, “The water was cloudy enough.” When he was getting treated, bathed, doctored, how hard he wished it was Y/N doing it. Another thing that made him ache, watching them nuns give him medical attention when for the past 12 years it’d almost always been his wife.

He breathed out heavily. “Dunno, when she was in there, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“The habit can have that effect on some. The crucifixes and religious artworks hopefully brought some peace, too.”

“Habit?”

“Nun outfit.”

He tried to hold her even tighter. The way it felt more real than before encouraged him, got him nearly falling off his seat with excitement that he got her back!

Except, the excitement turned into panic that he might lose this moment because he was so happy, as fake as it was.

And it sent him over the edge. Just like that, he was awake. Very awake. And alone. No Y/N, no Merle.

He blinked as the room came into focus.

None of it was real. He’d, he'd known that.

And now he was awake. Lying on some flat, shitty, tiny bed, an ocean away, in a country full of people he didn’t understand, that had walkers who burned you when they touched you, and soldiers who shot up a convent full of nuns who patched up strangers and were only trying to keep a little boy safe.

He didn’t even have his ring anymore. All he had was a snippet on a voice recorder that told the world his name and how badly he'd fucked up.

Daryl turned onto his side, the pain from his burned arm screaming at him, but he didn’t give one flying fuck. Y/N wasn’t there anymore because his stupid ass had woken up! He’d earned the pain, he needed it, he deserved it.

Quietly, he thought to hell with it and let himself weep. He was so fucking done with all this bullshit.

He wanted Y/N back. He wanted his kids back. The fuck kind of brainless jackass was he, leaving them for so long, so much? And for what?

To "see what's out there?"

As if he'd find people who had a cure?

To bring Rick and Mich home? If Rick is even alive, if Michonne is alive.

To transport some creepy French boy to a group of weirdos grasping at the hope of some imaginary friend in the sky who damns them if they don’t do all the rules in the world that He’d let go to shit as a punishment or test?

Really, was Daryl that much of a guilt-ridden jerk-off to still say yes to whatever Maggie asks him to do? It’s a hopeless fu—

“Daryl, I love you so much. Please don’t blaspheme.”

“Y/N?” I thought you was gone. No, you were gone, I woke up! “You’re back?” Holy shit, thank you. Thank you! Thank you, Whoever's up there.

That small, shy smile melted all the ice he’d just had in his heart. “Try not to wake all the way again?”

He didn’t waste any more time blubbering like an idiot, he reached for her and held on. It was still a dream, so he had to be careful to not get too excited or do anything too stimulating. And, don’t worry, he wasn’t about to willingly get a hard-on when there was a nun next to him.

He just needed to have Y/N in his arms again so he could make it through the next 5 minutes without going insane!

For 12 years, she’d been there, loving him in one way or another. For 10 years they’d been husband and wife. Without her, without their kids there, in that strange, foreign place, he was losing himself so quick it brought him to his knees with shame.

Her lips pulled away for a moment. “I wouldn’t agree that you’re losing yourself. I watched Shaney lose himself, it looked different. Daryl, I’m serious,” she insisted. “Listen: did you not save that dad and daughter even after they robbed you?”

Big whoop. “You know what those guerrilla shits would’ve done to her." The same thing that got done to you. "And those assholes would prolly have made the old man watch and killed me regardless.”

“Yeah, but you also went back to try and save that gaggle of nuns from those jar-head pieces of shit, that’s got to count for somethin’.” Wait, that was Merle’s voice. He was back, too?

Daryl looked over at the window to see his brother there once more. Merle winked. “My baby brother, the hero. Stay zen if you’re fixing to keep us here, now. Keep hittin’ that sweet spot between dreamland and the real world.”

Y/N beamed at Merle before turning back to Daryl. “And did you not help those children get the medicine, Dare? Heck, now they got access to that whole castle full of supplies and it’s so much more secure. Um, m-minus the moat full of dead ones.”

“I lied to those kids out my ass, Y/N. Lied and didn’t give a damn.”

“And you ensured none of them got hurt, then promptly admitted the lie with what I’d call purity of heart.”

“I cut that boy’s mule loose without a second thought. You see that? He loved that thing.”

“Better than to have failed to back up the cart in time, which would have happened and would have gotten all five of y’all eaten. And it was almost fast enough to escape by the looks of it. One dead mule to the benefit of four living souls is a good outcome.”

“What’d my sister-in-law say earlier?” Merle asked. “Brains, balls, and grit? Not to sound all mushy gushy, but she’s right.”

The memories of falling into that moat of walkers seized him, made him start to panic again. No brains, no balls, he almost died right in there—

“—Baby, shh,” Y/N hushed. Her arms tightly wrapped around him the way she would when his nightmares hit bad. “You survived. No bites. No burns. Not even a broken bone, I don’t know how you managed it again.” Her lips, her chest, her hands pressed against him. It felt so, so real. “But you always seem to.” She kissed him. “You’ve got brains.” Another kiss. “Balls.” A deeper kiss. “And grit. And you’re alive, sweetheart. There’s always hope as long as your heart is still beating.”

“How will I get out of this?”

“You’ll find a way,” she said with confidence. “You simply don’t know what the way is yet.”

“What do I do about the nuns?”

“Help them keep Laurent safe, of course — if you choose to do so.”

I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to,” she assured him.

I want to go home.

“And you will,” she assured him once again.

I don’t want to help them. I don’t want to. I don’t fucking want to!

…God damn it. “But I should.”

“You ain’t obligated,” Y/N responded, but with hesitation that time. “It is up to you.”

Merle was the one to point out, “It’s that conscience of yours, kid. Sometimes you just can’t help but help. I’ve been watchin’ you these past, what is it, 11 years since I got my crusty white ass killed?” He chuckled to himself as he shaved off the final bit of peach before flicking the pit away. “Can’t be too mad at it when it roped you a fine piece of ass to squeeze at night and how many kids because of it?”

“Merle,” Y/N warned.

Daryl could feel his anger rising.

“What, ain’t you relieved I can’t call you ‘sweet little virgin’ no more, son?” Merle kept egging on.

“Daryl, this isn’t really him. Don’t get angry or we’ll both disapp—”

“—So, my thinking is, Daryl, that you just won’t be able to help yourself from bringing that little sissy boy to them nutjobs —”

“Shut up!” Daryl burst out — and opened his eyes in real time. Again? Is he that much of an idiot?

His pulse was pounding. Dread and self-loathing flooded his mind, how stupid could he be?

Immediately, he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate hope to get his wife and brother back. He focused, focused, focused, prayed, pretended, focused…

“Daryl,” came her voice.

He could hear Y/N, but not see her. It was clear that it was all him forcing the memory of her voice back. It was all in his head.

“Why bother caring that it’s in your head, sugar? Breathe slowly and focus on the feel of my body against yours. I don’t wanna leave you."

“Y/N, I need to get back,” he panted. “I can use their help to do that. Those religious people, the Union of Hope or whoever, Isabelle says they got a good radio. I need that to get back home.”

“Well, there you go! I trust you.”

He reached up to tangle his fingers where her hair would be. His imagination wasn’t letting it happen, so he focused with gratefulness that at least he could still hear her.

“Just don’t abuse their trust, and you’ll be alright,” she softly pleaded.

Don’t break their trust? “Angel, you don’t know what I did to end up in this mess.”

Of all the ways he could have daydreamed her reacting, it was that her laughter filled the room. “For the last time, my mangy hick, I am a figment of your imagination and quite literally know everythin’ inside that brain of yours. And I still love you despite that ‘shit-show’ what landed you here.”

He brought to mind the color of her eyes, wanting, wanting, begging for a miracle that would make her truly there with him so he could stare into them all night. “What would you say if I asked ‘that if I don’t find nothing, what good am I?’”

“Y/N, you can blame our raising for that shit right there,” his brother commented.

“You poor boys. Broken people sometimes make for broken kids.”

Gently, he started to perceive the way she would rub her cheek against his chest when she’d lay down with him. “Daryl? If I were here, I’d say things to try and make it stick in your head that your worth ain’t dependent on what you can offer.”

“What does it depend on, then?”

“Careful, you’re treading into religious waters now, and I ain’t sure you’ve got the bandwidth tonight. But God is involved,” she hinted.

This mess was hopeless, wasn’t it? No winning, no out, no happy ending.

“Angel, I can’t come home empty-handed.” He squeezed his eyes tighter and willed himself to not lose his cool yet again. “I can’t come home with no Rick or Michonne, no cure, no nothin’ but a burn, more nightmares, and more lives on my conscience.”

“You can,” she answered simply. “It ain’t all on you. No — please, don’t get any more upset or you’ll wake up again! Daryl, I’ve already slipped so far away!” He heard his wife begin to cry, but the sound went further and further from him. All he could see were the backs of his eyelids.

Still, he held on as best he could. “Please stay here, angel.”

“I-I would, sweetheart.”

“When I’m back, I won’t even want to leave the walls to hunt if it would mean not being next to you, d’you know that?”

“Let someone else hunt. You’ve done enough to last a lifetime.” Her voice was hoarse the way it had been when she’d said those same words to him about a year and a half ago. “More than enough. Oh Daryl, I’m so sorry we’re going.”

“Not yet, angel, please don’t!”

“Use all those things makin’ you homesick as reasons to hope. Do it for me, sugar. Get yourself home again. Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“I won’t. I’ll get back to you. Tell the kids I love ’em?”

There was silence.

Stillness.

Daryl lay there, accepting that he couldn’t feel Y/N next to him anymore.

His throat tightened. “Angel?”

He doesn’t know why he bothered. She was gone, he knew it. He ran his finger where his ring should’ve been, if he hadn’t lost it.

“Angel,” he tried again.

Silence.

“Babe, please. Please.”

Silence.

“Y/N, please, one more time, angel.”

Silence.

The pain in him was hollow and cold.

Feeling small and helpless, he lifted his arms above his head and held back a wail of despair. He closed his eyes again and, in his head, he cried out in desperation, “Merle?”

At first, there was no answer. He hadn't expected one. Why should he?

But then he heard a quiet, low, “I’m still here.”

Merle spoke slowly and heavily, almost as if it hurt him to admit it. “I don’t think she’s gonna come back tonight, Daryl. You’ve already fallen out a few times. I ain’t gonna be here much longer, neither. You know that.”

Any strength he had left seeped out like a stab wound, leaving him crying like a child. “I can’t see you anymore.”

“I know, little brother.”

“It felt so real.”

“It sure as hell did. I think you needed it, even if it hurts like a bitch now.”

It had felt so, so real!

But it wasn’t. “I’m alone,” he choked out.

“Nothin’ you can’t handle.” For a moment Daryl could make out his brother’s face again. “You’re a tough sumbitch, so I’d advise you act like it. Quit blubberin’ like a baby and wipe the snot out your nose.”

Daryl sniffed and tried to get a grip.

“Good.” Merle’s voice began to echo. He was almost gone, too. “Now listen here: don’t die, don’t get bit. Get your ass back where you belong.”

The room came into view.

The echoing stopped.

The hollow, cold pain he’d felt at knowing they were gone there turned sharp and hot. Turns out, it was actually the throbbing in his arm. Daryl really had turned onto his side, which positioned his burned arm underneath him. He strained to get off it and flip onto his back.

You know what? The pain from his burned arm didn’t hold a candle to the ache in his chest.

Were those tears on his face, too? Guess he must’ve started crying for real in his sleep. Made sense considering how real it all felt. It all felt so real.

If only his pulse would stop racing, he felt sick.

He was getting damned old.

Instinctively, he tried to fiddle with his wedding band, which is when he recalled yet again how he’d lost it. Only a faint tan line remained.

He closed his eyes, exhausted, and chewed at his lip. Another tear or two escaped and ran hot down his cheek.

A strange part of him wished he hadn’t lied to Laurent about having a wife and family back home. At the time he said it so it wouldn't hurt as much, but…

“You deserve a happy ending, too,” the kid had told him. Just like his Judith had, when she saw how low and unworthy he begun to feel. She told her auntie Y/N, too, of course, not that his wife wasn’t unaware of how twisted his head had gotten into thinking he was no good. It didn’t feel twisted to him, it felt honest. He didn’t deserve them. They were too good.

His wife’s words to him played again in his mind. He may have just been making all that shit up in his brain, but he was only remembering a mix of real things that she’d told him before, over and over in the hopes his stupid ass would accept it one day.

“Despite how you feel right now, my vote is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

He did need a reason. It was getting harder and harder to hold onto hope. Any hope.

So, maybe, a weird kid with long hair like TJ’s who drew a picture of some washed-up bum on a beach three weeks before Daryl showed up was reason enough to hope. He could grasp onto that.

If it would get him home, hell yeah, he could do that.

How the same weird kid told him what his niece had and what his wife had could be reason enough, too. He could grasp onto that as well, if it would get him home. He could do that for them.

Daryl ran his hand in slow, gentle circles along his stomach like Y/N would. Maybe he’d been doing this in his dream, which is why it felt so real.

It had all felt so, so real.

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

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sunvmars · 1 year ago

Text

tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

taglist!

@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen

@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog

@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

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whimsiwitchy · 5 months ago

Text

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter seven: k.

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes.

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses.

chapter summary: conversations and intimacy training.

authors note: Y’all this took me way longer to write than expected. I had something else planned for this chapter but it ended up coming out like this. I really like the first half but I feel like it goes downhill towards the end. This idea is way more complicated to write for than I thought it would be lol. I still hope you enjoy!

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

“It never made sense for you to love me.”- Twilight New Moon

Love wasn’t what Pedro and you had- you understood that- but the consistent pain in your chest was telling you otherwise. In your short lifetime, you had never felt such strong emotions towards someone like you have towards Pedro, it was easy with him. He was so respectful and sweet- his charisma and it was all beginning to piss you off. Why couldn’t he just let you do your job and leave you alone? You were grateful for the friendship he had initiated because it meant your on set experience would be easier, but now that everything has gotten out of hand, you honestly wish the line between professional and personal was never crossed.

It's been a short 24 hours since your conversation with Pedro and after your intense two hour cry sesh the night prior, you felt numb. Not numb in a painful way but numb in a sense that you'd accepted what had happened and were trying your best to move forward in a reasonable manner. When you woke up this morning, you spent 20 minutes sitting on your toilet holding two icy spoons to your puffy eyes trying to reduce the swelling as much as you could, trying to hide any evidence of the pain that sat deep in your chest. It didn’t help.

Keeping yourself busy seemed like the only way to keep your mind occupied on anything other than Pedro. At first, you found it best to read over your upcoming scenes but after about 30 minutes, your head was hurting. Your mind wandered back into the forbidden territory, flashes of Pedro’s award winning smile appeared every time you would read over one of his lines. Seeing his face in your head reminded you of the hurt in his voice and the look of disappointment he had given you. Everything you did brought your thoughts right back to him. You closed your script abruptly and picked up a book instead. You’d been rereading the Twilight series and were currently nearing the end of New Moon. You hoped that Pedro and yourself would have a similar ending, that you two would be brought back together and realize that you needed each other, that you couldn’t live without each other. It was dramatic and cliche but you didn’t care. All of your common sense left your body when it came to him. Thinking wasn’t something you needed to do with him, you just had to feel. You finished a single chapter before shutting the book and giving into the inevitable thoughts that clouded your mind.

Letting out a sigh, you let your mind begin the analyzing it had been begging to do. The next time you would see Pedro would be in two days. The two of you have intimacy training early that morning and you'd film those scenes later in the afternoon. Having fake sex in front of a room of people isn’t exactly ideal for the first time you’d be seeing him again. Maybe you should reach out to him beforehand, talk things over, but you being the one to reach out first wasn’t something you wanted to do. It didn’t seem like the right thing to do. You had absolutely no clue as to how Pedro was feeling right now. He said he wasn’t mad but the tone of his voice and his body language said otherwise. You didn’t want to upset him more by bothering him before he even had time to process everything. He was at the forefront of your mind and you were praying that he wasn’t as hurt as you were. You couldn’t imagine that he was.

It never made sense, the connection, the spark, the comfort. It was all too confusing and quick. But you let it happen without much thought and looking back, you wish you hadn't been so stupid. It has never bugged you so much, losing someone, no one ever mattered enough. All Pedro had to do was actually be nice to you and you were a puddle at his feet. It was a little pathetic- but he said he liked you too, so maybe it wasn’t that pathetic.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The next two days passed by way too fast, leaving you in the studio parking lot trying to find the will to leave your car. Your body was filled with anxiety from the thought of seeing Pedro- and from being late. You waited until the very last moment to get out of your car, being late this one time was something you were willing to do to avoid any early interactions with him. With slow strides, you made your way towards the studio doors, to the reception desk, and to the room where intimacy training would take place.

When you entered the room, Pedro was already there surrounded by a few other people. His eyes quickly met yours before he looked away just as fast.

“Sorry I'm late…traffic.” You muttered out before sitting in an empty chair across the room, praying that no one saw that you actually pulled into the parking lot 30 minutes prior, sitting in your car staring down at the steering wheel for longer than you'd care to admit.

As soon as you sat down, a woman immediately grabbed the attention of the room. She introduced herself as Elise, a trained intimacy coordinator. She briefly went over how the training would go, letting us know that we would go through some safety procedures before starting. Elise spoke for about 40 minutes on how important it is to feel comfortable with your co-star and the proper way to go about doing these types of scenes without incident. As she introduced the other crew members in the room, you stole a glance at Pedro. It’s as if he could feel your eyes on him, because he turned around, once again his eyes leaving yours just as quick as they met them.

“Okay, so before we get started, I'm going to have the two of you do a check-in. Let each other know what you’re feeling and if there's any boundaries that need to be set.” She takes a seat and is talking to one of the other people in the room. Pedro doesn’t move, so you take that as a sign to walk over to him. You were hoping he’d at least be mature enough to work with you without dragging anything personal into it.

“Good morning.” You took a moment to look at him. He was wearing a pair of charcoal gray cotton shorts with a random graphic tee. You thought he looked divine, drool worthy even.

“Morning.” He still doesn’t look at you.

You take initiative to start the check-in, letting him know where you’re at today and that you’re ready to go, no boundaries. When he responds, his voice is very mundane and his eyes continue to avoid you. You awkwardly let out a brief ‘cool’ to acknowledge that you had heard what he had said. There was a silence between you two, leaving the only noise coming from the light conversation from the group of crew members across the room.

“So, are you guys ready to get started?” Elise asked with excitement in her voice. She was way too cheery for the uncomfortable mood that lingered in the air. However, you decided to match her energy as best as you could to make the day easier on yourself.

“Of course!” You let out accompanied by a smile that didn’t quite match your tone of voice.

Everyone in the room was then instructed to make their way to the set. You walked closer to the group of crew members, while Pedro walked slower leaving a good six feet between you guys. The set wasn’t anything too crazy. Just a cliche 70s themed bedroom, filled with orange, red, and brown. A king size bed sat in the middle of one of the makeshift walls with two night stands on either side. There was a funky pattern that lined the walls and a shag rug on the floor that matched. Everyone took a seat at some chairs that sat behind a white taped line that ran across the floor behind a bunch of expensive looking equipment, leaving Elise, Pedro, and yourself standing.

“Okay, so we’re going to start by giving you a quick rundown of what you’ll be learning today.” She’s opening a binder that she had been holding and starts to spew the details of the scene.

“So this scene follows Daniel admitting to Janet that he has feelings for her ,this is going to be a very passionate and steamy shot.” She turns towards the set and instructs the two of you to do the same.

“To start, you’ll both bust through the door into the room. Daniel will be leading the makeout session, slowly pushing Janet towards the bed, but stopping right at the red tape that’s on the floor.” She’s pointing across the room with her pen as she speaks and looks back every few words to make sure Pedro and yourself are listening.

“Once you’re there, you’ll have a moment to show the love between the characters. At this mark, you’ll both be removing some clothing and Daniel will push Janet onto the bed to crawl above her, leading into sex. Any questions?” She turns to look at the both of you. Pedro shakes his head and you follow.

“Cool. Okay we’re going to run through it, stopping a few times along the way to choreograph each touch between the characters.”

This whole process was so fucking awkward. You were trying your best to be professional, but nothing was ever professional when it came to Pedro. Every time the intimacy coach placed his hand on you or vice versa, you felt your body tingle. It had only been a few days but you had already forgotten how good it felt to feel Pedro’s skin on your fingertips. He still hadn’t looked at you, avoiding your eyes when you had to be face to face.

“For the push, it doesn’t need to be a harsh push. We want it to be more of a sexy playful push rather than a dominant one.” She's speaking directly to Pedro but turns to you right after.

“When you fall, try to land with your arms propping you up on the bed. Your forearms should be touching the bed, like this. If it’s uncomfortable at all, we can change it up.” She falls back onto the bed to show you her vision. You give her a thumbs up and stand at the red mark on the floor.

“When you’re on the bed and he starts to climb over you, you’re going to crawl backwards, using your arms as leverage. Let’s have you guys try that out real quick.” Elise steps off of the set and stands past the cameras where the other crew have been sitting.

She yells a quick ‘action’ and Pedro is pushing you onto the bed. When you land onto the bed, you look up at his face to see that he’s already looking at you with an intense stare. He starts to lean onto the bed to crawl over you and you’re moving backwards as instructed. Once your head hits a pillow, Pedro is fully hovering over you. The two of you never break eye contact and you could feel your heart beating out of your chest, your breath wavering. You could feel the temperature of your body rising rapidly and a slight pulse hit your core. Having Pedro completely over your body like this was torture. His hands were on either side of your head and if you looked down towards his lower body, you could see the weight of his-

“Perfect!” Elise lets out with an excited squeal, making you snap out of the trance you were under.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

Elise had you guys run the full choreography three more times in full, minus the kissing and getting naked part. Once she and the other crew members were satisfied, everyone was sent on an hour and a half break before you all had to come back to actually film. You were feeling extremely hot and bothered. Pedro’s touch was intoxicating and the way he looked at you when he was on top of you made you feel feral.

You desperately needed to talk to him. You scanned the room and saw him walking out of two large doors that led to the parking lot. Following him, your eyes sweep over the large parking lot as quickly as possible, hoping you’d be able to catch him before he was gone.

“Pedro!” You called out the moment you found him. He was reaching for his car door but abruptly stopped when he heard his name.

“Can we please talk? Just give me five minutes. Please.” You knew you were probably the last person he wanted to talk to, but you really needed to clear some of the tension between you two.

“Okay.” He stands there for a minute before motioning for you to get into his car. When you sit down, you can feel all of the emotions from the last time you were in this seat still lingering in the air.

“How are you?” You asked genuinely with a hint of awkwardness.

“Fine.” He huffs out.

“Pedro please don’t be like that.” You practically begged. You were hoping for a productive conversation but this wasn’t going to do any good if he wasn’t willing to actually talk to you.

“Like what y/n?” He finally looks at you and he looks pissed. You let out a sigh.

“Look…I know that you’re mad at me or whatever but I don’t know what else to do here P. I didn’t mean to lie to you and I told you the truth before anything furthered between us. If you can’t forgive me then at least be professional and work with me as a costar. Please?” Your voice began to waver but you held it together. You see his eyes soften slightly.

“I told you I’m not mad at you.” His voice is soft.

“Then what are you feeling? You’ve left me in the dark P. I’ve given you space and I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but can we at least talk this out? Let me know how you feel so I’m not jumping to conclusions in my own head?” The car goes quiet, no sound other than the light thumping coming from your nails tapping the center console.

“You’re so young…” He practically whispers. “You have a whole life ahead of you, I'd only be holding you back baby.”

Your heart flutters at the endearment.

“And with how the world works, no one would approve of us. You can’t start out your career like that, having people judge you because of me. You deserve someone your age, someone you can have fun with.”

“Were we not having fun before I told you my real age? How does that change anything?” You could feel the frustration rising in you. You absolutely hated when people tried to tell you what was right for you. Pedro just struck a nerve he didn’t even know you had.

“Yea but it’s different-” You cut him off before he can finish.

“How exactly is it different P…hm?” There's a slight hint of anger in your voice, the patience you once had completely dissolving.

“You're just a kid.”

If it were physically possible, you would have steam shooting out of your ears from how angry you are right now. Looking away, you take a deep breath and think over your thoughts before your mouth spews words you’ll later regret.

“I understand that the age difference between us is way more than you bargained for but I’m not a kid. I am fully capable of making my own decisions and deciding what’s best for me and my career. I appreciate the concern but it’s not your place to think for me. If this whole thing is too much to handle then that’s fine. We can just be friends, or not even friends.. I don’t know P. I just can’t do whatever we’re doing now.” Your irritation falls off towards the end, feeling more hopeless than anything.

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

Ouch.

You’re searching his eyes trying to find any hint that he’s being mean to make this ‘breakup’ easier and not just being mean because it’s the truth.

“Okay…we can just be coworkers then.” You turn your head forward. All you can feel is the same pain that you had felt that night, but this time it felt final. There wasn’t more guessing Pedro’s feelings, no more maybes. This was it.

“Y/n…I don’t think you understand.” His hand reaches out for yours but you're moving it away before he has the chance to grab it.

“Then make me understand P… I’ve been trying to understand.”

“I can’t be your friend because I won’t be able to be close to you without longing for you every second. It’s been so long since I felt what I feel with you and it’s been eating me alive, sweetheart. All I want to do is be near you, hold you, be with you, but fuck y/n, I shouldn’t want you the way I do. I can’t have you the way I want you.” His eyes were on yours the entire time, showing you the sincerity behind every word.

You don’t know if it’s his confession or the pent of horniness you'd been harboring for the past two hours that made you jump at him but before he, or even yourself really, had a chance to process what was happening, you were leaning across the center console, lips moving with his. All of the tension in your body melted away as Pedro softly grabbed your face with his hands. This kiss was soft and full of passion, like you were making up for lost time. It was nothing short of perfect. When you pull back, you’re smiling. When you open your eyes to see the look on Pedro’s face, your smile drops.

“Y/n we can't do this.” He says giving you a pitiful look and pain tucked behind his eyes.

“K.”

You’re getting out of the car before he could protest, you needed to get away from him. Slamming the passenger door, maybe a little too hard, you’re practically stomping back to the studio. You decided to get your hair and makeup early to calm your brain down a little bit before you were surrounded by people again. God you were being so childish right now but why would he kiss you back if he still didn’t want you.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

You were zoned out the entire time you were sitting in the dressing room getting dolled up for the cameras, only speaking when one of the stylists asked a question. Your brain was working overtime right now, trying to calm your emotions while also trying to focus on the scene you'd have to film in just a few minutes.

Over the past hour, you’ve been trying to create some sort of plan to get Pedro to change his mind. You didn’t want to lose him, he was too good of a man to fumble, so you decided that you wouldn’t stop pursuing him until he told you to your face that he didn’t want you. What you were planning wasn’t ethical at all and broke all kinds of work relationship rules but your relationship with Pedro had already crossed that line the first day you had met.

Walking over to the set, you could feel the nerves rising. You wanted to seduce Pedro as best as you could. He was obviously attracted to you and you were going to abuse that. You were hoping that him seeing your naked body for the first time would send him spirling, leaving him no other choice than to want you enough to take the chance and be with you.

“Quiet on set! Can we get Daniel and Janet on set please? Thank you.”

You step onto the small platform that separated the set floor from the studio floor and walk over to Elise. Pedro stands next to you, ignoring your presence once again.

“Are you guys ready to run it?” Elise is asking with a big smile. You could see Pedro nod his head and you do the same.

“Okay, just make sure you’re doing exactly what we rehearsed. If anything feels uncomfortable let us know and we’ll stop rolling and fix the issue. You guys got this!” Elise raises her hands to give you both a high five and she's walking to sit next to the director.

“Places!”

You're both walking over to the door that you'd be bursting through in a few moments. Pedro places his hands on you, preparing for them to yell “action”. You’re looking into his eyes, getting into character and he’s doing the same.

“Ready baby?” You ask him with a smirk, wanting to fuck with his head as much as you could. His eyes go wide but before he can say anything the director's voice booms over the space.

“Action!”

He gives you a nod before diving down to kiss you. He's pushing you into the door that flings open as you walk backwards, lips still attached. When you reach the red mark on the floor, you pull apart from him. Looking into each other's eyes with the love and passion you so badly wanted from him outside of this scene. You’re reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt and lift it, just as rehearsed. He pulls the rest off by himself, leaving you to marvel at his chest for a moment before he’s reaching for your own shirt. You're looking at his eyes but he is trained down onto your cleavage, which is pushed up slightly by your bra.

When he looks back at your face, you could feel your core pulse in excitement. He had this hungry look in his eyes and you were confident that it wasn’t because he was acting. You grab his face to pull him back into you, continuing to clash tongues and teeth. Pedro reaches behind you to grab your ass, pulling you closer to him in the process. You let out an involuntary whimper. He slides his hands up the sides of your body, trailing his hands to the clasp of your bra. He pulls back and pulls each strap down your arms, letting it fall onto the floor, leaving your chest exposed to him.

“fuck ..” He lets out but it’s barely audible and it definitely wasn’t scripted.

He’s pushing you back onto the bed and the two of you began the crawl that you had practiced many times before, never breaking eye contact. Once you were laying down, Pedro hoving over you once again, you started to feel exposed and slightly insecure. Before you can think further, Pedro is pulling down your pants, leaving you in nothing but the lacy black thong that had extra lining that matched your skin tone. He takes a moment removing his own pants, leaving him in a pair of tighty whities. Even with the protective sock he wore for actor protection, you could still see the outline of his dick.

He crawls back over you, his eyes dark. You reach up to kiss him again and you begin the ‘grinding’ into him. All that was going through your head were the events of the night in your trailer. How he felt against you. Another weak moan slips past your lips and his hands are reaching down, removing the black thong and leaving the skin tone underwear that sat under it.

This was feeling way too real and you were soaked. You knew that whoever was in charge of cleaning costumes would hate their life when your soaked underwear made their way to them. Your mind refocuses to see Pedro’s own underwear had been removed, leaving him in his own weird skin toned thing, sock thingy. He looks down, pretending to grab his dick and ‘enters’ it into you. You let out a breathy moan, not entirely fake as you imagine how it would really feel. Pedro lets out a grunt and starts to rock his hips forwards onto you. The pressure of his heavy cock was rubbing you a little too good. There definitely wasn’t enough protection between the two of you and if you hadn’t had such a strong attraction towards Pedro, you’d definitely feel uncomfortable right now. He’s kissing you again but all you can do is let out tiny breathy moans into his mouth, trying your best to focus on acting. He’s giving you a nod, signaling to start the big finish. You’re both letting out boasting moans, his head falling into your neck as your hands are clawing at his back. Both breathing heavily, he gives your neck a small kiss.

You can’t help but let your mind freak out. That kiss wasn’t for the camera, it was out of view. That kiss was just for you.

“Cut!”

Pedro makes his way off of you, grabbing a robe that is being handed to him. You slowly got up, feeling dizzy and confused. You wrapped the robe that was offered to you and listened to whatever was being said by whoever was talking. You couldn’t focus even if you had tried.

You sat in the corner as everyone watched the footage, making sure it was good before releasing the team. Once the director gave the thumbs up, you were rushing back to your dressing room to get undone.

“You guys were amazing out there, the chemistry was insane. Everything looked so real! I guess that’s why you guys get paid the big bucks huh?” One of the girls in the room gushed about the performance. You simply let out a small thanks to show your appreciation.

You wanted nothing more than to go home and wallow in self pity over a man that doesn’t want you. You still planned on not giving up but you really needed a breather and a break.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Thank you for reading <3

series tag list: @nuetralcolorsenthusiast, @kungfucapslock, @hansilandgretel, @ashleyfilm, @titabel, @fifitheragertot, @maryfanson, @ktluvsmen, @eldauvs, @dionneroyal49, @godlypresley, @bloody-bunni666, @beautiflybybri, @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world, @amo-nix

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro x female reader #pedro x y/n #pedro x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedrohub #pedro x plus size reader #pedro x you

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murasaki-cha · 1 year ago

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A little book rant! I love dual pov in romance books! I love them so so so much!!

And I especially love them when there's a closed off love interest who doesn't really emote much!

Because we go to character A (main character) and we see things from their perspective. They might do something stupid. They might be doing the most normal thing ever. They might be doing something very romantic. Heck they might be just breathing. And they look at character B and they're just standing there looking blankly, or looking grumpy, at most they might have a small smile.

AND THAN WE GET TO CHARACTER B POV!! AND THEY ARE JUST SCREAMING ON THE INSIDE!! LIKE THEY ARE GOING AKSKLDKSNSLDKNSKSPSNSKSOKS! They are in fact this close👌 to crying because of the feelings character A is making them feel.

I go feral over this!!

If I have to give some excamples

I would say one of the greatest moments in my existence was when I was reading Assistant To The Villain and Evie kissed Trystan AND THAN IMMEDIATELY we jumped to Trystan's pov! I almost cried ngl. I freaking screamed for 3 minutes straight (on the inside because I was in public). Honestly it was hilarious going to Evie's pov and she's all "Oh my god I would kill for him, I can't let him figure me out" and than we go to Trystan's and he's all "Crap I'd kill for her I can't let her figure me out".

Wes isn't the type of love interest I described but the extra chapters from Better Than The Movies that were from his pov (The party, Liz's proposal, Basketball Night and their road trip chapters) might have completed my entire life. Might have been the missing piece of my soul. Might have given me a new purpose for living. Might have rewired my brain. Just might have.

A Thousand Heartbeats by Kiera Cass made me experience all the emotions THEY JUST LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH THOSE FREAKING IDIOTS!!

*punching a wall* AARON! FUCKING! WARNER'S! POV! CHAPTERS!!!!

I'm reading the Shepherd King duology and book 2, Two Twisted Crowns has 3 pov but 2 of those are between the main character and her love interest in the first book so it counts (also this series is amazing please read it!!!)

I rescently read The Brightest Light of Sunshine by Lisina Coney, NA romance with an age gap, and it was so so cute and touching and when you read their povs you could tell they both were in love with each other from the begining but they were too stubborn to admit it to themselves! Again the love interest isn't really the type that I described but still they're idiots and he constantly fangirls over her so yeah.

Butcher and Blackbird gets a special mention because I love them! Idiots! Bafoons! Dumbasses in love! Both of them just go asjjskdjdd over each other tho so into the list it goes. God I'm eating this audiobook up like Rowan ate that beef niçoise (iykyk)!!!

Some very specific NA hockey player books and book series. I have needs.

I have to mention Defy The Night, I have to. I have yet to finish Defend The Dawn so shush don't tell me anything. Though I loved the dual pov there less about the romance and more when it came to presenting the current situation of the kingdom from both perspectives of the Royals and the Wilds. So it doesn't really fit with what this post is about but I just wanted to mention it because I really liked this book

And if I had to pick one book that I wish would have a dual pov...... Red White And Royal Blue. Even if Henry's inner monologue would have been a long string of "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKK I'M SO GAY I'M SO SO SO BLOODY GAY!!!!!". I'd pay good money for that actually

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vibinsane · 9 months ago

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please, just stay a little longer. rafayel x reader (she/her) drabble

she would have reoccurring dreams of a sea god that saved her when she was meant to be a sacrificed to him. in the dream, she was fully aware of what was happening, as if she had lived in this time before. but as soon as she would wake up, she could not recall a thing, yet she was left with a feel of emptiness, like something was missing or she had lost something very important to her.

note: this is clearly self indulgent, and i just could not get this out of my head while it popped up as i kept listening to that unknown bgm in chapter 9, so it kept yelling at me until i wrote it. pieces of chapter 1 and little bit of pieces of chapter 9 in forbidden sea. not beta read, here is your warning. i am also very rusty, but i hope those that read this will enjoy it!

warning: angst, hurt with slight comfort i suppose? but hey, it's sfw.

it was the day of his ceremony, every lemurian gathered to witness the sea god and his beloved walk into the temple. fishes of all kinds swam about and round rafayel and his beloved follower.

upon the two entering the temple, everything became silent, save for the gentle sound of the water as she looked around before her eyes landed on her hand in rafayel’s. the way he held her hand as if it were the most delicate thing in all of the sea and land made her heart skip beats.

she closed her eyes, raised her other hand and rested it on her chest. she took a deep breath and spoke to herself.

i am willing to give him my heart.

i am willing to give him my sincerest form of worship.

i am willing to have his very being etched, engraved onto my soul as i praise and pray to him for the rest of my life.

she felt rafayel’s hand in hers, something hot began to intertwine and embed itself into her palm, it became a line and part of her soul.

then, panic rose as she opened her eyes.

“this is my promise to you.” rafayel spoke in the softest tone much like how soft his eyes looked into hers. “for ‘tis lemuria’s vow, a bond everlasting.”

“rafayel, wait—” she smiled nervously, her heart beating too fast for her own good. “why does it sound like…you’re saying farewell to me. please, i—”

rafayel stepped forward, lifted his arm and wrapped it around her waist, drawing her in closely like the gentle current of the sea, small blue fish began circling around them and one red one in particular seemingly settled on rafayel’s shoulder as a blue one settled on hers.

how foolish, even in the sea does her tears begin to build up. even as she was underwater with the god of the sea, she could not stop the tears from falling from her eyes.

“do not worry, i will not be gone for long.”

"you said that last time and the time after that, stop lying to me..."

still panicked, she immediately threw herself onto him, despite his protests from last time when they snuck out to see the sunset both under the sea and above. she did not care for what rafayel would do.

“hold me. push me away. i don't care, just—please, stay a little longer.” she begged with the weakest voice despite how much strength it took for her to tamp down this undeniable fear of being abandoned, almost etching itself right where the thread that sealed their bond remained. "can't we just stay like this for a moment more?"

rafayel stills, eyes wide and at first he did not move nor did he say anything. then, his eyes relaxed and there was a smile that etched upon his lips as he finally lifted his arms to wrap themselves around her, placing a gentle but fleeting kiss onto the top of her head.

“once a lemurian is bonded with a human, they cannot go against their wishes.” he reminded her of what the bond entailed, despite being the young god of the sea.

“then, stay. please, rafayel—don’t leave me.” she did not care how desperate she sounded because he thought of rafayel no longer being with her terrified her and her worst nightmare soon manifested itself as she heard rafayel’s chuckle.

“i will find you no matter where you are, we will meet again. but for now, it is time for you to wake up.”

“don’t lie to me! you always say this, every time, in this very moment and then i’m left waking up to an empty bed and something empty inside me that i can’t understand until i fall back asleep and pray to whatever deity will hear me to meet with you again. why… why can’t you stay any longer?!”

“shh. do you not trust me?”

she fell quiet, burying her face against his shoulder as the tears continued falling. “i do, but—”

“there is no but. you either trust me or you do not.” rafayel sighed quietly and cupped her face, his eyes spoke louder than the words he could offer her, yet he did not know if she felt his emotions. after all, he was not that good when it came to expressing something so intense he felt which was all because of her.

she only clung onto him tighter, refusing to wake up just to forget everything that had happened in her dream that felt so real. who is that man? where was she? why can she not recall his name?

rafayel gazed at her, knowing she was deep in thought and lifted his hand to brush away the tears, shaking his head gently. “what a shame, human tears do not turn into pretty pearls when they cry, yet i find yours the most precious in the entire sea.”

he leaned close to her ear, his fingers gently carding through her soft locks. “trust me and let me go, you will not have to wait any longer.”

she shook her head, hugging him even more tightly. “i don’t want to! i’m tired of never remembering you in my waking life. it’s not fair!”

“you have stayed here for far too long, do you not wish to see me in the waking life?”

“how long, rafayel? how long until i can meet you again, what if i cannot remember you?”

“it will sadden me, i will admit, however…that does not mean that i would give up on you. after all, i will chase you to the ends of the earth.”

rafayel’s words began to fade as her vision darkens and the whalefall city is turned into ruins just as the ancient civilization of lemuria was soon forgotten.

she shot up in her bed, breathing heavily and blinked before a gasp escaped her. her hand lifted as she brushed some tears away then rubbed at her eyes. normally, she would remain confused for a short moment before pulling herself together and return to her every day life.

this time, while she cannot remember anything, she placed her hand on her chest before she drew her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, letting herself mourn.

what am i mourning for?

why does everything feel so empty?

why does it feel as i i’m crying about something lost?

what did i lose?

…who did i lose?

eventually, she was able to collect herself and prepare for the hunter ceremony. today was the day she would become an official deepspace hunter. once the day was coming to an end, tara waved goodbye before she was being dragged by a random young boy to help him with something.

with the fish net, she looked into the pool and furrowed her brows before she could attempt to swipe one into the net, someone interrupted her concentration.

“...but this one, bright as a flame, is a real flammula from lemurian legends.”

“flammula? i’m not very familiar with those myths or folklore.”

something in her chest tugged the moment he turned and walked away. something yelled inside her to go after him, but why? she was confused and something inside her felt disappointed as the figure gradually became smaller until he could not be seen any longer.

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klapetka · 2 months ago

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Suguru Geto x reader pt 4.

hiii, another chapter ready.

hope you like it ___

The days were getting warmer, and the trees were now fully dressed in green leaves. School days had fallen into a familiar, repetitive rhythm, with the same tasks coming and going. A few days into the week, I found myself at another practice, with Tori and I running in circles. We were the only two from our class here, just the two of us. I was trying to pace myself to last longer, focusing on a single point as I ran, when a shadow passed by me. Tori had sped up, quickly finishing her run.

“I’m done. I can’t do any more,” she panted, catching her breath. “Ugh, I’m all sweaty. You do you—I’m off to shower.” She grabbed her things and headed to her room, grumbling as she went, though I couldn’t hear much more. I ran for a few more minutes when I caught a glimpse of someone waving toward me.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” It was Kiyotaka, the manager’s assistant, rushing toward me with a piece of paper in hand. The first thought in my head was: A mission. I stopped and went to meet him, looking around and noticing that he was alone.

“Miss Y/N, there’s a mission request for you,” he explained, still catching his breath.

“Me? You mean… alone?” I asked, surprise in my voice. I’d never been requested alone.

“Yes. I’ll explain the details later. Can you grab your things and meet at the parking lot in 30 minutes?” He turned and jogged back. I nodded, grabbed my things, and headed to my room to change into my uniform and grab my nunchaku.

By the time I got to the meeting spot, Kiyotaka was already there. Securing my ponytail, I asked, “So, what are the details?” I felt a nervous edge in my voice; they rarely sent me alone. Maybe it was just a low-grade curse that needed handling? Almost always, when I asked why I was chosen, the answer was the same: You’re suitable for it.

“It’s just a small office building. Two people have gone missing, and there’s been some cursed energy detected,” he said, adjusting his glasses as he read from his paper. I heard footsteps approaching behind me, and when I turned, I was greeted by Suguru’s familiar face.

“I heard you were going on a mission, so I wanted to wish you luck, babe.” He smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah, but… I’m going alone,” I said, unable to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

“If you’re being sent alone, that means they’re confident you can handle it. Don’t worry,” he reassured me, patting my head. “I’ll wait here for you, okay? Go kick their asses,” he said with a wink as I walked to the car. Wow, I thought to myself. Everyone seems more confident in me than I am.

On the way to the site, Kiyotaka tried to calm me. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s probably just a matter of confirming whether the missing people are there. The goal is to check for any sign of life—or anything else,” he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I nodded and smiled, starting to feel more at ease. I could handle this, I told myself. Check every corner, and see if anyone is there, alive or otherwise.

The building was unassuming, a standard office with big glass windows, and I couldn’t sense any cursed energy as I stepped out of the car. “Alright, I’m going to set up the veil. Good luck,” Kiyotaka said, and I turned toward the building.

“Emerge from darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure…” I heard him chant from behind me, and with those final words, the world around me shifted as the veil descended. Darkness surrounded me, the air feeling heavy and still. I clenched my fists, trying to steady my nerves. Everything will be alright, I reminded myself.

The shift from the sunny outdoors to the enveloping darkness was jarring. The veil’s effect, as it wrapped the building in night, made my pulse quicken, the silence amplifying every sound—each creak of a floorboard or distant hum of electrical wires felt like an echo in my chest. I took a steadying breath and gripped my nunchaku tightly, mentally running through my training and everything I’d practiced for.

The lobby was eerily quiet, the usual hum of office life absent, leaving behind only the cold, sterile scent of paper and cleaning supplies. The lights overhead flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the walls. I moved carefully, footsteps soft, focusing my senses for any sign of cursed energy.

I made my way past rows of empty desks, scanning for any hint of movement or cursed presence. Each office cubicle and corridor seemed to stretch out endlessly in the quiet darkness, the windows overlooking the city obscured under the veil, making the building feel like a world unto itself.

Just as I was starting to feel a glimmer of confidence—thinking maybe this mission really would be as simple as Kiyotaka and Suguru had suggested—a faint sound echoed down the hallway to my left. I froze, heart pounding as I strained to listen. It was a faint shuffle, almost too soft to hear, like someone dragging their feet or… something heavier being moved.

I swallowed, steeling myself, and moved toward the noise.

The hallway felt like it was narrowing with each step, the shadows shifting in strange, uncomfortable ways. When I reached the end, I found a door slightly ajar, the light inside flickering erratically. Pushing it open carefully, I stepped into what looked like a break room. The smell hit me first—metallic and faintly rotten. I glanced around, spotting the remnants of spilled coffee, papers strewn across the floor, and then…

I saw it.

A faint, barely visible mist hovering near the ceiling, dark and thick. It was almost translucent, and yet the malevolent energy was undeniable, like the air itself was crackling with malice. It wasn’t the usual kind of curse I’d encountered; this one felt… dormant, but watching. Waiting.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for my nunchaku, keeping my stance steady as I moved closer, my eyes fixed on the mist. If I could find the source, maybe I could neutralize it before anything worse appeared. The quiet pulsing of cursed energy grew stronger, like a heartbeat resonating through the walls.

Suddenly, a low, guttural sound echoed from the corner, snapping me back to full alertness. Out of the shadows, a figure began to materialize—a cursed spirit, its form grotesque and twisted, with limbs that seemed far too long and claws that scraped the floor as it moved. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow, locked onto me with a ravenous intensity.

My breath hitched, but I tightened my grip on the nunchaku, steadying myself as I prepared for its approach. “Alright,” I muttered under my breath, “time to get this done.”

This is no low-grade curse, I thought, my heart pounding.

It didn’t wait, slashing its enormous arm toward me. I ducked, narrowly avoiding its claws, feeling the air whoosh past my head as it struck the wall, gouging deep marks into the concrete. I quickly retaliated, spinning my nunchaku and striking its side, but it barely flinched. Its thick, armored hide absorbed the impact, and it swung its other arm in a brutal arc that sent me flying back against a row of desks.

Gritting my teeth, I scrambled to my feet, feeling a sharp ache in my ribs. I gathered more of my cursed energy, pouring it into my nunchaku as I lunged back toward it, aiming for its legs to destabilize it. The curse let out a guttural roar, its form flickering as I landed a solid blow on its knee, forcing it to drop slightly. But it rebounded quickly, lashing out with claws that tore through my uniform sleeve, grazing my arm. A hot, searing pain flared where it cut, and blood began to seep through the tear.

I took a few quick steps back, realizing that I’d have to draw out far more power to even have a chance. I closed my eyes, focusing on the energy within me, channeling more of it than I’d ever dared to. I felt it swirl and build, thick and almost overwhelming, before releasing it in a burst that surrounded me like an aura. My senses sharpened, and I could feel every movement, every twitch of the curse’s body.

It roared again, coming at me with renewed fury, but this time, I anticipated its move. I struck it mid-lunge, my nunchaku charged with cursed energy as I slammed it against the creature’s side, a powerful wave radiating outward from the impact. The curse howled, momentarily stunned, but I knew it wasn’t enough. Its energy was as thick as a swamp, and it was still far from being defeated.

I pushed further, feeling the strain as I gathered even more energy. I’d never attempted this much before. My vision blurred slightly as I channeled all I could muster, and then, without any other choice, I spread my hands and summoned my Domain Expansion.

—my surroundings shifted abruptly, transforming into my childhood room. Confusion mingled with shock as I realized I had brought both myself and the spirit here, within this intimate yet haunting space.

The curse spirit’s twisted face sneered, but I sensed something strange beneath its rage: fear. I could feel its emotions flickering in the air around me, more vivid than ever before. Could I influence this somehow? Driven by sheer instinct, I focused my curse energy, channeling it like I’d never done before. The air grew dense, thick with dread, and the spirit hesitated, its confidence faltering.

In that instant, something dark and tangible manifested around my hands—a substance like shadow, alive and pulsing. This dark energy, which I instinctively named the Hollow, obeyed my will, moving with a fluid intensity I’d never experienced. I directed it toward the spirit, pressing forward with the full force of my fear and intensity, projecting those emotions onto it. Its monstrous form began to shudder, caught in a storm of dread and hesitation that I didn’t know I could wield.

With a final push, I sent the Hollow surging through the spirit, shattering it into nothingness. But as the room faded, a wave of exhaustion hit me, and I stumbled, my head colliding with the floor.

My vision blurred even further, dark spots clouding my sight. I struggled to stay conscious, but the pain pulsed through my skull, a dull ache settling in as the room faded in and out. I could barely make out the remnants of my domain flickering around me as I lay there, feeling the exhaustion drag me down.

Before everything went dark, a single thought passed through my mind: At least it’s over.

___

A few years ago, Mei Mei found me at my lowest. After my father left, my mother spiraled into a raging depression and became a heavy alcoholic. Every day, she suffered panic attacks, and her unstable emotions washed over me like a tidal wave. I became hyper-aware of her moods, reading every twitch of her face, every subtle shift in her demeanor, anticipating what would come next. It was a constant battle just to stay grounded.

It was a Friday when I arrived home from school, only to realize I’d forgotten my phone. Panic set in. My mother would kill me if she found out. I knew there was still a chance someone might be at the school, so I ran back, hoping to retrieve it before it was too late.

The school was open, but eerily empty. I searched under my desk, and just as I was about to grab my phone, the sun dipped, and nightfall rushed in. My heart raced as I hid under the desk, consumed by fear. The air felt heavy, and in the silence, I heard strange, terrifying sounds—groans, shrieks, and crackling that echoed through the empty hallways. Then, the door to the classroom creaked open.

I stifled a gasp, pressing my hand over my mouth to stay silent. A figure stepped into the room. She was a woman with turquoise blue hair, her smile calm and reassuring.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” she said, extending her hand to me.

I hesitated but took her hand, feeling an odd sense of comfort. Together, we walked out of the school, and I was horrified by the scene that unfolded in front of us. She had just exorcised curses.

“You can see them?” she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

I nodded, unsure how to respond, still in shock.

“Well, then,” she said, “maybe I should take you for a little trip.”

That was how I ended up at Jujutsu High in Tokyo.

—-

The ringing in my ears was deafening, but I managed to crack my eyes open just enough to see that the sun was up again. I knew that meant the curse was finally dead.

“Oh my god, what happened?” A voice broke through the ringing.

“Miss Y/N, are you alright?” It continued, clearer now. I felt my body being lifted from the ground, and then everything went dark again.

When I managed to open my eyes slightly, I saw landscapes blurring past in a rush. We were in a car. But then, darkness fell again, and the ringing returned, unbearable.

"Quickly, help!" The voice was distorted by the agonizing sound in my head. Why wouldn’t it stop?

"What the hell happened?" Another voice shouted, adding to the chaos, making the pain worse. I could feel my body being moved again. I was probably being taken out of the car.

“I’m taking her to the nurse office, you call Shoko!” A voice ordered. My body jolted with each step they took, and each movement felt like a sharp stab through my skull.

“You’re going to be alright, I told you, monkey,” Geto’s voice came through, soothing despite the chaos. It was his arms that I felt holding me, and in that moment, I knew everything would be okay.

And then, everything went black again.

____

if you like this chapter please leave a like or a comment :)))

#jjk #gojo #geto #fanfiction #getoxreader #jjk x reader #sugurugeto #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsukaisen #suguru #jjkworld #jjk fanart #jjk gojo #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #jjk art #satoru gojo

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 9 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This is a long one and based off certain scenes in Lucas on the Line. As a black person, I never realized I was other until it was pointed out to me and once I internalized it, I had questions I couldn't ask my parent(s) because it's not something discussed at length in the black community because trying to survive is hard enough. I honestly urge y'all to read Lucas on the Line because it's such a well written story about the Black Experience and how nuanced and difficult it is to navigate especially black kids who grew up in white neighbourhoods.

I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think and if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know too! 🤎

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4587

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

THE WOODS

I squeal dropping the mallet on the ground at the sound of a gunshot. Nancy giggles waiting for me as I pick up my weapon in the shrubbery. I never thought I would be on my way to meet up with Jonathan Byers on the opposite side of town to learn how to shoot a gun. But then again, a lot more bizarre things have happened this week so I shouldn’t be surprised. Nancy and I trek up the small hill as Jonathan shoots repeatedly at the target of empty tin cans or at least attempts to.

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?”

Jonathan looks over his shoulder smiling sheepishly. “No, actually you see the spaces in between the cans? I’m aiming for those.”

“Sure.” Nancy answers, titling her head in amusement. She drops her backpack and baseball bat on the ground ready for practice.

I don’t take off my backpack right away, taking in my surroundings. The wide-open space of dry leaves, weeds and shrubs. The tall pine trees encircling the space. The winter chill started to come in and I wish I wore a hat today to cover my ears, maybe even a heavier coat instead of a denim jacket. Jonathan opens the revolver to check how many bullets are in the cylinder before reaching in his pockets for more.

“You ever shot a gun before?”

“Absolutely not.” I answer.

“Didn’t your dad fight in the Vietnam War?” I nod my head, shifting from side to side on my feet. My Dad would never let any of us touch a gun. There was no reason for us to. Jonathan shrugs. “I’m surprised he hasn’t taught you how to shoot a gun,” he commented, directing his gaze to Nancy. “You?”

Nancy scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was nine. My dad took me hunting on my birthday.” I see the spark in his eyes dwindle to a low flame. “He made me kill a rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” Nancy and I say at the same time.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something.”

“Yes, because the world needs more men shooting guns.” I deadpan.

Jonathan smirks, adding bullets to the cylinder. “I cried for a week.”

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers.

“I’m sorry.” I say to him.

Jonathan didn’t say anything as he tried to drag emotion back under where he didn’t need to feel it. He snaps the revolver in place, the corners of his lips rise to a smirk again. “What? I’m a fan of Thumper.”

“I meant your dad.” Nancy says.

The detachment in his tone makes me uncomfortable. In seeing Jonathan’s dad for the first time today, the way he dressed and carried himself. There was something arrogant and insincere about him. When Will first went missing, I never heard Jonathan mention his dad, when Nancy and I found Jonathan at the funeral home, he was by himself picking caskets. Ms. Byers was at home grieving, but the whole town knew how adamant she was on finding Will, but where was his dad? The audacity to show up to the funeral of his youngest son, he did nothing to plan, to shake hands with the people who did care to find Will. Now with this story, it completed the picture. He was never in Jonathan and Will’s life and didn’t care to be. Only wanted to insert his toxic male dominance and masculinity onto the boys.

“I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point...but I wasn’t around for that part.”

Nancy gestures for the gun and Jonathan hands it to her. “Just point and shoot.”

I walk behind Nancy to stand beside Jonathan, refusing to be anywhere near that sound. Nancy takes a deep breath aiming the gun at the can a few yards in front of her.

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.”

My eyebrows raise at the bold statement. “Nancy, you shouldn’t say that.”

“I mean it.” she answers.

“They must’ve married for some reason.” Jonathan states.

“My mom was young. My dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Screw that.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah. Screw that.”

Nancy closes one eye aiming for the beer can. I put my fingers in in ears just as Nancy pulls the trigger hitting the beer can. I chuckle in disbelief. From shot gunning to shooting them, anything involving beer cans, Nancy is a natural. I shrug off my backpack, placing the mallet on top. Despite the awe, I am uncomfortable with what Nancy said about her parents. Sure, Mr. Wheeler was a bit…impartial. I was around the family many times to know that, but to say her parents never loved each other? I don’t know.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try, Diana?” Jonathan asks, offering me the gun. I don’t move contemplating. “It’s not gonna bite.” He jokes. I make a face at Jonathan and he laughs as I cautiously take it from him with my gloved hand.

“Just point and shoot?”

“Just point and shoot.”

I standing in front of a can, widening my stance so I don’t fall over. “There’s nothing wrong with starting a nuclear family.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Nancy voices. “Your family is perfect.”

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. The contempt in her tone is shocking. “That’s not true.”

“Diana,” Nancy chides, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You never argue with your parents and your parents never argue with each other. You are perfect. Your siblings are perfect. Everyone in your family is perfect.”

I don’t miss Jonathan’s eyes darting back and forth between us. Having never seen us go back and forth with each other, I can tell he is surprised by this. What he doesn’t know is this topic of conversation isn’t new. Throughout our years of friendship, Nancy and Barb always made fun of me for being “perfect”; how I never make mistakes; I am always put together. I need at least eight-hours of “beauty” sleep. From the nickname “Lady Diana”, to my mom making me lunches because I refuse to each cafeteria food. At first it used to bother me, but I moved passed it until Tommy H and Carol picked up on it and started calling me “Anal Princess”.

This may not be a new conversation, but the undertone certainly is and it’s why I am thrown off by it. It doesn’t sound like a joke anymore and there’s something deeper going on. I never thought Nancy envied me. I know I certainly envied Nancy for being strong enough to stand up for herself and say no. For being able to be defiant without feeling like its wrong. I lift my head high lifting the gun eye level.

“I’m not perfect and my parents do argue, just not in front of us and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I begin. “You want to know why my dad never taught me how to fire a gun?” I refer to Jonathan’s comment earlier. “Because he never talks about the War unless it’s to teach us a lesson. I don’t know any stories of his time there. My family is seemingly perfect because we don’t talk about things, we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and try to live without feeling more of an outsider than we already are.” I pull the trigger and the bullet hits the can knocking it off the tree stub.

None of us react. The heaviness of what I said laying on thick. My family isn’t perfect. We are far from it. We are compliant and conforming because it’s the only way to not be seen as more of an outsider than we already are. I understand it to a certain extent, but sometimes I wish my parents would talk more about it. About being black in an all-white religious town. About their past and how they came to Hawkins. I know nothing and it’s something I push down to be the “perfect” daughter when deep down it bothers me. This is not something I can discuss with Lucas and Erica because they are happy in their bubble and I want to keep it that way for them.

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks with a frown. “You’re not an outsider, Di.”

“Never mind.” I say, handing Jonathan the gun, feeling more uncomfortable than before.

Nancy didn’t question me again and after shooting practice we decided to head through the forest looking for the mysterious animal. Dried leaves crunch under my boots as we all walked in silence. Jonathan and Nancy walked together giving me space to be alone for a while which I am grateful for because I didn’t feel like talking. My mind feels like it’s been jostled back and forth, buzzing with many thoughts. I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’ve never talked about it because who do I talk about this with? Uncle Jack only comes to Hawkins once a year and when he does the environment is uncomfortable and stuffy because Dad doesn’t like Uncle Jack and doesn’t hide it. Long distance calls are expensive and I have no money to pay for it and if Dad finds out I’ve been talking to Uncle Jack he’d be furious. Maybe I should start journaling or writing letters I’ll never send.

“You never said what I was saying?” Nancy speaks after a long period of silence.

“What?” Jonathan says.

The conversation about the photos began in the darkroom yesterday, but I interrupted when I saw the final development of the photo of the thing that took Will and Barb. It’s definitely been the great elephant in the room between the three of us and though the conversation in the darkroom was light in nature, it is a serious situation.

“Yesterday, you said, I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture.” I glance around not focusing on anything, while keeping my ears perked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My guess…I saw this girl; you know trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone or you thought you were,” I cautiously peer at Nancy. She looks like she’s about to explode. “And, you know you could just be yourself.”

I ground my teeth. Jonathan just opened up a huge can of worms. A few days ago, I would’ve agreed but after talking to Nancy, I don’t think she is trying to be someone else. She’s a young woman exploring and there’s nothing wrong with that. Also, Jonathan isn’t close to Nancy to know who she is and who she isn’t. Nancy doesn’t respond right away, processing the soft insult. She stops clenching her hands into fists.

“That is such bullshit.” Nancy fumes, glaring at Jonathan. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—”

“You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.”

My head retracts back. “So, you were intentional in taking those photos.”

Jonathan’s head whips back. His brows shoot up in disbelief. “What?”

“You said you thought it was a good picture which means you were intentional about taking it.” My voice hardens. “Taking all of it.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Diana.” Jonathan mutters furiously under his breath, walking away. I march behind him trying to keep up with his long legs and quick strides.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth! Nancy asked you a question and your answer quite frankly, was bullshit. Because really? That’s what you were thinking when she was taking off her shirt?” It’s a cop out. A poor excuse to deflect from what he did. Jonathan scoffs. “Unbelievable.” I hiss, catching myself before I trip over a branch. “What about how Steve feels?”

“Oh my god!” Jonathan throws his hands up in exasperation and I am filled with so much adrenaline I’m starting to shake.

“I told you his privacy was violated too!” I snap. “As was mine, Tommy, Carol, and Barb!”

Jonathan spins around, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “And I said I was sorry for taking the photos!” He shouts. I blink repeatedly taken aback by this attitude. No one has ever yelled at me like that and Jonathan was the last person I thought would. Nancy steps in scowling at him.

“Don’t yell at her!” she shouts, pointing at him. Jonathan glares at her and keeps his mouth shut. I look down at my boots, done with the conversation. “Steve is actually a good guy. The whole camera situation. He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan scoffs, walking away. “That’s one word for it.”

“And what you did was okay?” Nancy barks, following after him. I stalk behind her keeping my distance.

“I never said that.”

“He had every right to be pissed—”

“Okay, all right.” Jonathan says, rolling his eyes, coming to a halt. “Does that mean I have to like him?”

“No.”

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.”

This is why he’s being like this. Because he doesn’t like Steve and has some sort of animosity towards him. I never thought I would stick up for Steve, but after my encounter with him in my garage, I think he’s a good person and deserves a chance to be seen and heard outside his bubble.

“You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay.” Nancy rages.

“Yeah?” Jonathan challenges, eyes glowing with savage fire.

“Yeah, I was thinking, ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’”

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac.’” His voice was stern with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness. “’Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.’”

Nancy and I watch Jonathan march away. We look at each other absolutely gobsmacked at what just happened. Nancy’s face is so red, the veins in her neck pulsates with pent-up fury as she clenches her fists. I wrap my arm around her shoulders guiding her along the path.

I admire the colours of the sky as we trek through the forest. Shades of pink, orange, and yellow blending and oozing together. The sun was setting and we would soon need to use our flashlights to navigate through the forest. My back aches from carrying my backpack for so long and I want to tell Jonathan to stop so we can take a break but he was far ahead keeping his distance. All of us have been quiet since the argument though Nancy walked beside me, we haven’t spoken focusing on our surroundings, deep in thought.

A lot of truth has been said today and it felt like it was shoved down all our throats. I’m not mad at Jonathan for yelling at me and I hope he’s not mad at me for calling him out. What he did was stupid and I know he knows that, but picking a fight with Nancy was something completely different. It felt more personal and I can’t quite put my finger on why it would be since Jonathan and Nancy aren’t close. If anything, they may be farther apart now after what he said to her. I doubt Jonathan wants that especially because of how far we’ve come.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asks quietly enough so Jonathan doesn’t hear.

“Yes.” I respond automatically. Nancy looks at me and I drop the act. “No.”

“Me neither.” she agrees, glaring at the back of Jonathan’s head. “I’m so sick of him and his holier than thou attitude.”

“I can’t believe he yelled at me.”

“I can’t believe that either!” she whispers hastily. “I didn’t like that.”

“I know. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me and Steve.”

“You’re welcome.”

I debate on whether I should tell her he came to my house today, but decide it doesn’t matter and she probably already knew about it since he was in his way to see her anyways.

“I can’t believe Princess Diana swore.” she teases, touching her chest in shock.

“Oh, shut up.” I giggle, pushing her away.

“Ou, again!” I roll my eyes.

“I was just trying to understand why he took the photos.”

“I honestly don’t even think he knows.” she says, looking at Jonathan again. There was no anger in her eyes, just curiosity.

“After that conversation, I think so too.”

Nancy hums in response, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “I was going to bring it up later but, what you did earlier today about being an outsider. What did you mean?”

A ripple of anxiety went up my back while my stomach fell to my feet. I shrug my shoulders shaking me head. “I don’t know.” I deflect.

“Diana, we’ve been friends for so long, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?”

I do know that, but this conversation was not about a boy or anything menial like that. It was much deeper and something I’ve been pushing down for years. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but when Nancy went on about my perfect day family, I snapped. This past week I feel like I’ve gone through the most significant changes which in turn has brought up subconscious thoughts, emotions and insecurities. I feel like I’m being pulled in every direction, perfect daughter, perfect friend, Juilliard, Blackness, otherness. But who am I? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be?

“Diana.” Worry etched Nancy’s features. My silence makes her more anxious. I sigh, stepping over a branch.

“Have you ever noticed there is no one who looks like me in our neighbourhood?” I mumble, uncomfortably.

“No? What do you mean?” An expected answer. I close my eyes counting down from five. How do I go about this?

“I mean, black.” I say, pushing down the lump forming in my throat. “My family…” I clear my throat. “My family is the only black family in the neighbourhood.” When Nancy doesn’t say anything, I continue. “I don’t remember when I noticed, but once I did, it’s hard not to. Even at school, I can count how many black people are there and majority are on the basketball team. Did you know that?” Nancy shakes her head. “I am the only black person in our classes, at dance. No matter where I go or what I do, who I am. I will always be the black one. Even in our friendship. That’s what I mean by outsider.”

“My mom and dad don’t talk about our blackness and I’m left to figure it out on my own. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. That’s what I mean when I said we don’t have difficult conversations. We just keep our heads down and conform, but sometimes I don’t want to conform. Sometimes…” I sigh feeling exhausted. Mentally. “Sometimes, I want to ask those questions but then I’ll feel like I’m not…”

“The perfect daughter.” Nancy finishes.

“Yeah.” I twirl the mallet in my hand. There’s so much to say but this conversation is exhausting enough. Nancy looks at the ground, kicking a rock.

“I-I don’t know what to say…” she says lowly. “I’m sorry for not paying attention.”

“You know now and that’s the first step.”

“Of course, but please don’t be afraid to tell me these things. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you to feel like an outsider when you’re with me. What you said is something I need to know in order to change.”

I nod my head and Nancy visibly relaxes, reaching to squeeze my hand. I rest my head on her shoulder feeling more relaxed than I did before the beginning of the conversation. It’s a conversation that could’ve easily gone south and I wouldn’t be prepared to handle it, especially after what happened hours before. Darkness quickly engulfs the sky and I am instantly aware of all the sounds in the forest. The wind slipping through leaves, the cracking undergrowth with each step Nancy and I make, the bugs crawling on trees. We all take out our flashlights to see and I notice Jonathan slows down to remain close, though still keeping his distance. I jerk at every unfamiliar sound making Nancy laugh again.

“Do you remember Mei Wong?” I mutter, swatting away a fly.

“Yes. She auditioned for Juilliard!”

“Well on Sunday at rehearsals, she told me…” I swallow to soothe the dryness in my throat. “She told me I should think about auditioning for Juilliard.”

“Really? Wow!”

I scrunch my nose. “I know.”

“You definitely should. I meant what I said at Steve’s house. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you’re gonna go pro. I feel it.” I shake my head. Somehow Nancy sees it.

“You are. I need you to be more confident in yourself.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…what if I audition and I don’t get in—”

“We’re only in 10th grade, you have time to worry about the auditions.” Nancy assures me. “Maybe Juilliard has a summer intensive you can take beforehand to give you an extra boost.”

“My dad will never allow that.”

“Have you talked to your mom about it?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“I say after all this is done and we find Barb, we will both help you research and come up with a plan for you to go to Juilliard. Because you’re going to Juilliard.”

We find Barb. That’s the most important thing. It’s why we’re here now. The sound of her laughter echoed through my mind. The last time I saw her; felt her at Steve’s house. I don’t want to believe that was the last time I saw her. I shiver, crossing my arms above my chest. It’s so cold I can barely feel my ears and nose. Jonathan keeps pace with Nancy and I. There is still tension between the three of us, but now is not the time to dwell on it, not when we were outside in the forest on our own looking for God knows what. At random, Nancy slows down looking back and forth, her expression tight with strain. I keep myself composed despite the fact my heart is racing. Did she see something? Hear anything? Was it here? I tighten my grip on the mallet, my eyes darting from tree to tree.

“What are you tired?” Jonathan asks.

“Shut up.” Nancy hisses, looking around. “I heard something.”

I follow closely beside Jonathan as we follow Nancy through the forest. I don’t know what we’re looking for or what she’s heard until I hear something faint…a whining sound. I gasp at the sight of a deer whimpering in front of underbrush. We all rush to the deer dropping to our knees. My stomach is in knots at the blood dampening its fawn-coloured coat. It looked like it’s been punctured multiple times. It’s ragged breathing and slow movements indicated it was in pain and about to die. I’ve never seen a deer this close before and I’m sad it has to be like this. Images of Bambi flash through my mind and I cover my mouth muffling my sobs.

“Oh, God. It’s been hit by a car.” Nancy whimpers, tears brimming her eyes. She looks at the gun in her hand and holds it up. “We can’t just leave it.”

“Wait!” I exclaim, grabbing her arm. “There must be something else we can do!”

“It’s in too much pain. We have to.”

“I’ll do it.” Jonathan says, taking the gun. Nancy and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’m not nine anymore.” Jonathan assures us.

I stagger up on my feet grabbing Nancy’s hand. Jonathan points the gun at the deer. Time slows down and I feel like the forest is closing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up just as Jonathan is about to pull the trigger when suddenly, the deer disappears into the underbrush. I jump back startled, mouth opening in a silent scream.

“What was that? What was that?” Nancy shouts.

I wring my hands jumping up and down. “Oh, my god. Oh my, god. I can’t. I can’t.” Panic shoots up my spine and I hold my chest struggling to catch my breath.

“There’s so much blood.”

“Where did it go?”

“I don’t know.”

I quickly pick up the flashlight and mallet I dropped in my state of panic. My skin tingles and I shake my head trying to focus, aiming the light on the ground. Blood smears all over leaves and twigs. I proceed around with caution, shining my light on anything and everything in the forest, being cautious of not stepping on any gore. From the far distance I notice something dripping from a hollow tree stump. It looked like…sap. No, it’s too thick for it to be sap. I am vigilant taking calculated steps and kneel in front of the tree inspecting the foliage. It looked like the tree was creating mucus. Thick, slimy, runny mucus. There was no smell to it, but it was weird. I paid attention in biology last semester to know that this wasn’t right.

“Nancy.” I whisper. “This tree…there’s weird stuff falling.”

Nancy joins me on my knees shining her light. She touches the tree stump, looking up. “Jonathan?” she shouts, looking around. I search as well thinking he was with us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It would be unwise to leave Nancy here alone to look for him. We were better sticking together. When I turn back however, Nancy is taking off her backpack placing it beside her bat. My eyes widen. “You’re not seriously going in there!”

“Watch my stuff.”

“Are you crazy?” I snap.

That mucus could be toxic or worse. There was no need to go inside the clearly rotting tree. Nancy ignores me crawling inside. I am lost for words because not only can she fit inside; her body completely disappears as if there was an opening on the other side. I blink, shaking my head, feeling disembodied.

“Nancy?”

Adrenaline bursts through my veins to prepare myself to fight or flee. I feel like I am back in Steve’s backyard keeping watch while Nancy does something completely foolish like walk into the forest on her own or like now, crawling into a slime coated hollow stump. I curse colourful words under my breath that would shock my Dad. I can’t leave her alone. So, I take off my backpack and put the mallet on top; count down from five in my head and crawl through the hole holding my breath hopefully awaiting Nancy on the other side.

CHAPTER 6: THE MONSTER

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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astayinwonderland · 1 year ago

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Silk and Fire - Chapter 4

pairing: namjoon x f.reader , jungkook x f. reader

guest starring: ot7, Camille, Seri (new character)

genre: romance | drama | smut +18 MDNI

status: ongoing

word count: 3.1k

You can read about this story and other chapters here.

warnings: drinking, sex shop, sex toys, drinking games, thigh riding, finger sucking, cheating, kissing (lmk if I missed anything)

“I told you to wake me up whenever you couldn’t sleep,” Namjoon’s soft voice echoes in your head while he prepares tea for you.

The knot tied in your throat won’t let you breathe properly as the adrenaline from finding pleasure in what's forbidden keeps finding ways of pushing you toward Jungkook’s arms. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. How could you? If that man’s velvety voice alone had turned you on in such a way that made you betray your instincts and let him talk you into cuming so hard through the phone, what other lustful things would he be able to do in a dark room when it's only the two of you?

You press your thighs together in an attempt to quiet those heated thoughts. After all, Jungkook was just a fantasy and your boyfriend was right here in front of you. He pours tea and warm milk into your favourtie mug and then drizzles it with honey. A bit leaks from the bottle and Namjoon picks it with his finger and that same finger then goes to your lips. He expects you to lick it, but not to suck it as you are doing right now. Your precious lips wrapped around his honey-covered finger, tongue pressing on it as you suck and suck his finger making Namjoon gasp.

“Shit, babe,” he clears his throat. “Are you playing with me?”

You shake your head and release his finger. Now there is an evident problem inside of your boyfriend’s pants.

“Drink your tea, you need to sleep. We are expected at Hobi’s later tonight. You’re coming right?”

Your heart skips a beat and you pull him into a kiss. It is not one of those desperate, sinful kisses. Your lips are pressed to his. They’re firm, but you still feel him. You feel how he smiles against your lips, his body bringing you closer to him and your hands travel to his hair.

“Mmmmm,” you say delightedly. This is home, this is where you’re supposed to be. You want to hug Namjoon and never let him go, to be honest, you are scared of what you would do if you let go.

Namjoon breaks the kiss and his lips curve into a smile. The smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place, dimples showing and his eyes sparkling as they look into yours. He watches you as you drink your tea. Sweet and warm, relaxing your muscles and releasing the tension built up by that phone call with Jungkook.

Shit, Jungkook. You make a wish silently for that sinful carnal moment to never cross your mind again and once you are cuddling in bed with your boyfriend you remember. You are both expected at Hobi’s later. Will Jungkook be there?

It was a simple, basic thing, you thought. Texting Jungkook is not a big deal, it shouldn’t be, you just want to know if he will be there tonight. Why? You always liked to know what exactly to expect. So you go to your last call entry and decide to save the number as “JK”. You take a deep breath before your fingers tap your screen writing a friendly “hi (:” and pressing send, which you immediately regret. What was with the happy face? Was “good morning” better than “hi”? You put your phone down, there’s no way you’re going to obsess over some silly little meaningless fantasy.

You eat your lunch in your office as sometimes you do when busy, however, there is no response from Jungkook. How dare he bring you to such a state at ungodly hours of the night just to not text you back the next day. You are doing the one thing you promised you wouldn’t do, you are overthinking because of Jeon Jungkook. But wasn’t he satisfied? Wasn’t he pleased? Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone’s buzzing.

With your heart racing you reach to it only to see Camille’s name pop up on the screen. She’s video-calling you.

“Hello?” you say as you bring a big spoonful of food to your mouth.

“Hey!” Camille takes a pause to read your look. “You looked annoyed, am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” you say after swallowing.

“I hope I am not close to your work, wanna help me shop for something honeymoon related?” she raises an eyebrow.

“That sounds like a great idea, actually,” anything to keep your mind off Jungkook not replying.

“See you in ten.” Camille winks and ends the call.

_____________________________________

You wonder how you did not expect this, but you find yourself in a sex shop. It’s not your first time there, you’ve even come here with Camille before. Nonetheless, due to your current state of horniness and an apparent addiction to the forbidden, you find it now hard not to think about sex and Jungkook.

“Oh and I can't keep these with me, I want to surprise Yoongi,” she puts a butt plug with a very soft-looking tail attached to the little basket you’re holding.

“Since when have you used these?” you laugh.

“It’s a little thing we like to do every now and then,” she purrs.

“Stop it,” but you can’t stop laughing.

“Now, babes, you would look smokin’ hot in these…”

Bright red, lace, see-through. Camille takes the lingerie and places it on top of your work clothes. You replace her hands with yours, picturing you wearing only this. How the panties would accentuate your ass, the pattern of the bra creating friction on your sensitive nipples, now hardened by the mere look on Jungkook’s face. Camille moves towards the back of the shop and as you refocus your sight you see the flash of his smile way too fast, eyes covered by his long, fluffy hair.

Jungkook?

But it seems like he is gone in the blink of an eye and now Camille adds more items to your little basket, completely unaware of the shock in your face. But was that really him? You can’t go and find out. It would be weird, besides, what would he do in a place like this? Scratch that. You know exactly what he would do in a place like this.

You take a look at the new items in your little basket, a black crotchless thong and a ring vibrator. Camille likes to try new things, maybe that is what you’re missing in your life. Seeing the ring vibrator makes you feel instantly hot and agitated. Before you can filter your thoughts they are already picturing you on top of your newest fantasy, Jungkook. Your new red lingerie is set on the floor as you ride him, the ring vibrator hitting your clit every time you bounce on his manhood. The prominent veins of his cock dragging along the sides of your walls as they clench around him, the aftermath of raw, magnificent pleasure. His hands are on your hips guiding you to the thing you want the most, to cum on his cock.

“Babes, you okay?” thank god for Camille’s intervention, you could have started moaning any minute.

“Yeah… I– forget the lingerie set, I think it’s not my style,” you lie.

“Hmmm okay, then how about these?” Camille shows you the cutest bullet vibrator. It is a hot pink colour. “To use with or without Joonie,” she smiles. If she only knew the sinful thoughts that were coursing through your head just now…

Damn.

You try to shake any idea and memory of Jungkook from your head. There is a friendly gathering you have to attend with your loving boyfriend, Namjoon. You can’t afford to succumb to the little silly fantasies in your head. It’s not right. It’s not fair. So you take the cute little sex toy from Camille’s hands and decide you’ll take it. Maybe you need to spice things up in order to move on from JK, who still hasn’t responded to your earlier text.

Friendly gatherings at Hobi’s are always to die for, and this was no exception. Even though it was a small get-together with friends, he just had to be over the top. How couldn’t you love Hoseok? The life of the party with the biggest heart, he is selfless and you appreciate the kindness and warmth he radiates. He was one of the first friends Namjoon ever introduced to you and you got along so well that he insisted you should hang out with the group more.

So now here you are, Hobi’s house is massive and elegant. The dark curtains that decorate the minimalist living room give a romantic yet dangerous vibe. The fireplace is on, dimly lighting the entire space. A gust of wind creeps in from the opened glass door that leads to the patio. You shiver, but Namjoon’s arms hug you even tighter to him. You breathe in deeply, no sign of Jungkook.

Jin pats your head and you look up from the spotless, pale gray couch you’re sitting on. A glass flute, topped with the finest champagne. You extend your hand to accept it and Jin rolls his eyes.

“I’m bored,” he sits opposite you and Namjoon.

“But you are always bored, even when you are doing something,” Yoongi adds.

Camille and Yoongi stay by the bar. Your friend sits on a stool with her long legs crossed as one of them brushes against his teasingly. In response, he calmly rests his hand on her bare thigh, drawing circles with his thumb. They both casually sip on their neat whisky.

“What should we do, Jin?” Camille leans forward, curiosity in her eyes.

“Nah, but why would you ask him that? He will come up with something insane,” Hoseok says, pointing at Jin. “Last time you made us all jump into the pool and I am not doing that again.”

“Let the man speak,” Namjoon’s voice, deep and raspy, caresses your ear.

“Okay, okay,” Jin stands where everyone can see him. He is indeed the centre of attention everywhere he goes. Standing tall with his ashy blonde hair slightly curled and parted to the sides. He smirks as he scans the room, making sure everyone’s eyes are on him. “We are playing a drinking game, simple, never have I ever? Who’s in?”

“I guess I arrived just in time.”

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand and your heart races in your chest as Jungkook makes an appearance. His black, fluffy hair was now tied, bags framing his face. A leather jacket, casual black T-shirt, black jeans and boots. How can he manage to make such a simple outfit the sexiest thing ever worn? You can’t seem to take your eyes off him as he makes his way around the room greeting everybody.

“We want to play as well,” Jimin and Taehyung emerge from the staircase. You were wondering where they went.

“About time you showed up,” Taehyung teasingly hit Jungkook on the shoulder.

“I know…” he smiles and his eyes find yours. You impulsively look away finding some type of comfort in Namjoon’s arms.

“Honey, come out here, we’re gonna start the game,” Hobi calls Seri, his latest conquest. You and Camille have had long talks about this, and are rooting so much for them. She is as fun as Hobi so they are just meant to be.

Seri comes out of the kitchen with a tray of shot glasses. The message is understood, take one before the real fun begins. Hobi gives a quick peck on the cheek once she’s done.

“Bottoms up everyone!” and the tequila burns your throat but you are grateful for Seri’s act because that’s exactly what you needed. Especially when Jungkook decided to sit on the chair right beside you. You do your best not to turn and see him, but only knowing he is there makes your cunt ache with wanton.

“Well, now everyone’s ready,” Seri says flashing her perfect white smile and batting her long eyelashes at Hobi.

“You know the rules, if you’ve done whatever the person in turn says, you drink,” Hoseok raises his champagne flute. “Be nice, everybody… or not.”

“I’ll start! Jimin says. “Never have I drunk-dialed my ex…”

Jin, Camille, Hobi, Seri, Jungkook, and you drink. You feel Jungkook’s eyes momentarily on you, but you fight the urge to look back.

“Okay, my turn!” Seri says from the corner of the room. “Never have I ever kissed more than one person in 24 hours…”

“Oooohhh…” Hoseok says intrigued looking around the room.

Taehyung, Jimin, Seri, Jin, and Jungkook drink.

“Really?” Yoongi laughs looking straight at Jin.

“Don Juan!” as these words leave your mouth you know the alcohol already kicked in.

The rest of them laugh as Jin shows off his beautiful face.

“Please, have you seen me? Yoongi, even you want to kiss me,” Jin blows a kiss to Yoongi.

He rolls his eyes but catches it. Camille laughs uproariously. It seems the three neat whiskeys she had plus the shot are getting to her. She winks at her fiancé, and Yoongi hugs her from behind, waiting for whoever is next.

The game goes on and on and it gets spicier, you have to drink a couple of times but not as much as Jimin or Jungkook, who both seem to be handling their alcohol pretty well.

“My turn,” all eyes are on Jungkook now.

“Give us a good one!” Namjoon says, and in that moment you want to disappear.

Jungkook nods, looking at both of you. How you sit now facing him, fearing what words will leave his mouth. Namjoon’s arm possesively around you, as he occasionally leaves little kisses on your temple. Why Namjoon? Why not him?

“Never have I ever had phone sex,” he lets out a devilish smile.

Fucking hell. Your eyes widen in horror, you are not sure if you should drink or not, but Jungkook’s eyes don’t leave yours as he takes one big gulp of his drink.

Yoongi and Camille look at each other. Your friend giggles as she drinks, a secret memory replaying in their minds.

You slowly bring your drink to your lips as your hands shake, closing your eyes as you welcome the taste of it and how the alcohol burned travelling down your throat. Everyone else drinks but Namjoon.

“Really? Am I the only one missing out?” he looks at you. “Maybe we gotta try it sometime,” he whispers into your ear and you snap jumping off the couch.

“I need a bathroom break, I’ll be right back,” you make your way upstairs as fast as you can.

The hallway upstairs is dark, but the lights from the living room are enough to make it safely to the bathroom. Locking the door behind you, you attempt to calm yourself by taking deep breaths. You have to get out of here, tell Namjoon a silly lie, and walk hand in hand with him out of this madness. You splash a little water on your face and you tell yourself everything is fine.

This is the plan. You will leave the bathroom and play for 10 more minutes. Then, you will tell Namjoon you are tired and you will leave, no questions asked. Both of you will get safely home and have a lazy morning the next day. That would be perfect.

You open the door and it is so fast the way he pushes you in and locks the door behind him.

“What the f–” but one of his hands is on your mouth, and the other one holds you by your lower back.

“Shhh baby, leave the screaming for when I’m making you feel really good… I wanted to see you alone, sorry for scaring you,” he lowers his hand now, but you are too stunned to speak. Jungkook chuckles. “It was fun out there,” he continues. “Wish it was me holding you tightly,” his hand now moves to cage you between him and the door.

“Jungkook, please d–” but your words are caught in your mouth as he spreads your legs with his knee and then presses it directly to your core. “Mmmm– fuck…”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear…” he continues rubbing his knee between your legs, your panties getting wetter and wetter. Your nails scratch the door’s surface and you feel Jungkook’s breathing in your ear. “I dreamt of your beautiful moans last night…”

Now your hips rut against his leg, wanting more of him… but you can’t and it takes all in you to stop. You open your eyes and blink through the tears of pleasure that were already pooling in your eyes.

You slightly push Jungkook away from you.

“We can’t… I can’t– and stop following me and you didn’t even answer my text–”

“You want me to stop, but you are upset about a text? …and are you sure I was following you to the sex shop, wasn’t it a happy coincidence?” he smirks.

“No, it wasn’t,” you protest but his lips are so close to yours. Those juicy, pierced lips you want on every square inch of your body. “Wait before you go downstairs.”

So you manage to unlock the door and run back to Namjoon, who is sitting with Jimin and Taehyung now.

“There she is,” Taehyung gives you a cheesy smile.

“Leave her alone, don’t you see she is not feeling well. Are you okay, beautiful?” Jimin asks his adorable eyes on yours.

“Babe you look a bit pale, should we call it a night and go home?” Namjoon stands and puts an arm around you.

_______________________________________

You are grateful for Namjoon, you have to be. He took care of you last night, helping you take a hot shower and cuddling you to sleep. In the morning he left your breakfast packed and some aspirin in case you had a headache. He is perfect, you can’t do this to him. You comically slam your head against your desk at work. What the fuck are you going to do?

“Ummm… are you okay?” Marcia interrupts. You nod, it is not the first time your assistant finds you doing something stupid in the “privacy” of your office.

You take a closer look at Marcia and she carries a medium-sized, flat, black box. It is tied with a black silk ribbon, no card.

“This is a delivery for you…” she says, leaving the box on your desk.

“Do we know who sent it?” you ask. Marcia shakes her head.

“Maybe is from Mr. Kim,” she winks and leaves your office as quietly as she came.

Your fingers delicately open the box and you let out an audible gasp. Inside, the red lingerie set you saw at the sex shop.

Bzzz! Your phone vibrates on your desk.

JK: Hi! I really liked the colour red in you (;

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a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ stay tuned for next week's update(: ... lmk if you would like to be tagged (;

tags: @paramedicnerd004 | @darkuni63 | @bangtans-momma

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poppitron360 · 8 months ago

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Okay so @green-tea217 requested that I share this fanfic based on this post that I made.

I never usually post my fanfics, but I’m feeling brave. This one isn’t finished, but I’ll post the first chapter ‘cause I’m really proud of it. I’m working on the other fanfics that were requested, but I’m posting this one first because I’ve worked rlly had on it.

Summary: Kind of an OC/FanChild fic about my hcs for Percabeth’s kids. VERY Leo/Nico heavy bc they’re my two favourite characters, particularly Leo.

TWs: Swearing, lack of smut (she is a teenager)

Disclaimers: I was still reading SoN when I wrote this chapter, and I am currently on HoH, so if I’ve missed anything that gets revealed later, that’s why. Also I listened to the audiobooks, so if I spell a name wrong, that’s also why, either that or I’ve spelt something the British way.

Chapter 1:

Olympia hated stories.

She hated telling them. She hated hearing them. She hated the way they were often twisted and bent to contain some kind of message. She hated the theatrics of sharing them around the fire, the hushed voices and dramatic tone. And she hated how every story she heard was almost always about her dad.

Olympia Grace Jackson-Chase.

Of course.

For as long as she can remember, people had told her stories about her parents. About her and her birth. How she had been born on Olympus. How Apollo himself had delivered her, and named her “Olympia Grace” so that it would rhyme with her last name. That wasn’t entirely true. “Grace” was the last name of her Auntie Thalia and Uncle Jason. She hated the stories about them too- about all her parents’ friends. They were myths and legends in the eyes of the other campers, to her they were just people who babysat her sometimes. The Cabin 9’ers had been shocked when she’d told them that the heroic son of Hephaestus who had saved the world from Gaea and her evil forces was actually just Little Uncle Leo, and the first Fire User in three and a half centuries isn’t very mythical and legendary when he’s running in from the kitchen, waving a tea-towel at the fire alarm and yelling “Oh shit, the guacamole’s on fire. I set the guacamole on fire. Don’t tell your mom.”

People never wanted to hear those stories. Only the exiting and dangerous ones.

“Percy Jackson fought the Minotaur when he was only ten years old!!!”

“Percy Jackson keeps insisting I tidy my room.”

Suffice it to say, she was sick of it.

“Dad,” she asked, approaching the kitchen table.

Perseus Jackson, the man, the myth, the legend himself, looked up from his comic book and ginned at her.

“What is it, dolphin?”

“Can you… like… not send me to camp this year?”

Her dad frowned, put The Amazing Spider-Man down on the table and leaned back in his chair.

“Why? What’s up? Are the other campers not nice to you there?”

“It’s not that… in fact, it’s the opposite. The attention is getting too much. I wanna learn to fight, but… I’d rather you just teach me yourself. You can show me how to use my water powers.”

“Oly, I know it’s hard, especially as you’re one of the first Legacies at Camp Half-Blood. I can absolutely arrange for you to not go anymore if you don’t want to… but there’s only so much I can teach you on my own, particularly with your mother’s workload. I want to make sure you’d be protected. Could you maybe give it a try, please?”

Olympia was pretty sure she’d been “giving it a try” for the last 14 summers, but she didn’t want to argue with her dad.

“Fine,” she said.

“That’s my girl,” he beamed, “Now, remember to pack your armour for Capture the Flag, I don’t want to have to drive out there and back just ‘cause you forgot it again.”

She sighed and left the room.

She just wished that he had stayed in the car when he’d dropped her off, but no. He insisted on walking with her to the Big House, saying hello to Chiron and generally being a huge embarrassment. It didn’t take long for the crowds of campers to form around them, whispering behind their hands. She hugged her dad, and said goodbye to him as quickly as she could.

She dumped her things in the Poseidon Cabin. She was allowed in both her mom and her dad’s old cabins, but she preferred to be alone to sleep. She did her activities with the Athena kids though, she didn’t want to stand out any more than she already did.

Olympia sat alone, perched on the edge of the Athena table, when suddenly a kid shuffled up next to her. She looked about twelve, with the same grey eyes of her mother.

“What’s your name?” The girl asked.

“Olympia Jackson-Chase,” Olympia sighed.

“I’ve noticed you doing cabin activities with us, but you don’t sleep with the other Athenians? What’s up with that?”

Olympia took a deep breath, and began to explain, “I’m a-“

“Wait. Jackson-Chase?” The kid gasped.

Oh, here we go, Olympia thought, preparing for the usual swooning and/or geeking out.

“Your mother was Annabeth Chase?”

Olympia was slightly taken aback, “Usually, people talk mostly about my father. I’m always “The daughter of Percy Jackson,” never “the daughter of Annabeth Chase.””

“Oh but she’s a legend! She re-designed Olympus! She led our cabin in battle against the Titans! She even held up the sky! I mean, I know your dad did that too, but-“

“She did it for longer. She was under that thing for over a day, he only held it for at most 20 minutes.”

The girl laughed.

“And, if you ask me, she was the one who did all the work when it came to defeating Kronos. Dad did jack shit, just handed a knife to a guy.”

“Exactly! Just because he was in the Prophecy-“

“Nah, it’s a lot simpler than that,” Olympia said, “It’s because he’s a man.”

They sat in silence for a bit.

She never blamed her dad for overshadowing her mom. He didn’t mean to. In fact, he openly hated the stories that didn’t recognise her for all she did. They were so in love, it was sickening.

“I can’t believe she’s, like, my sister.”

The girl gasped, and grabbed Olympia’s arm, “Wait, does that make me your aunt?”

Olympia shook her head, “Don’t bother with family trees, man, otherwise you get into the whole “my dad’s dad is my mom’s mom’s uncle, which makes me kinda my mom’s second cousin, and my dad her cousin-once-removed”- it’s just too much to get your head around.”

She looked directly into the girl’s grey eyes, “My advice, kid, believe whatever bullshit they tell you about the Gods not having DNA, and just try not to think about it.”

The girl’s face fell. “Oh.”

Then she looked exited again, “Did you come out of her tummy or her head like I did with my mom?”

And there we go, Olympia thought. Geez, they didn’t hesitate to ask the really invasive questions, did they?

She took her three-pronged fork out of her pocket, and fidgeted with it, twirling it in her fingers. Instantly, she realised her mistake.

“Why do you carry a fork around and never eat with it?” The girl asked. More questions.

Might at well get it over with, she thought.

“Gift from Grandpa,” she replied.

“A gift from Poseidon? What does it do?”

She sighed again, and dangled the fork over the girl’s glass of orange juice, and let go. It dropped into the glass with a satisfying plop, and then rose to the surface. No, it wasn’t rising. It was growing. It’s shaft elongated, and the prongs stretched to become longer and way more deadly. Intricate designs started carving itself into the metal. Olympia stood up, and grabbed the shaft of the fork just as it finished growing. A three-pronged death skewer of pure celestial bronze. A Trident.

The surrounding campers gaped at her, open-mouthed.

“Woah,” said one of the Hephaestus campers, clearly someone who hadn’t seen the spectacle before.

“OLYMPIA JACKSON-CHASE! NO WEAPONS AT THE DINNER TABLE! CAMP RULES! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THAT!!”

“Sorry Chiron,” Olympia called. She twisted a little ring of metal around the shaft of the trident, and it shrank back into a fork. She sat back down.

“It responds to water,” she explained, “get it wet, and boom, Trident.”

She had named it Blue. It was her first word, after all. Or at least, that was the story. Poseidon had given it to her on her second birthday, and she had just looked at it, holding it in her tiny fist, and cried “bloooo!” It was probably just baby babbling, but Dad said it counted.

“So what’s Poseidon like? Do you have water powers too? Can you get me your mom’s autograph? Is your dad really 7ft tall?”

She ate the rest of her lunch in silence, only answering the onslaught of questions from the young camper when she had to.

Cabin 3 offered a pleasant respite from the crowds and the people. She dropped her armour and weapons from the day’s activites by the door and kicked off her shoes.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

(Drawing of Olympia: Art by me)

Her curly black hair, which she’d dyed the tips of blonde, was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Around her neck hung a necklace of leather chord, fourteen different coloured beads threaded onto them, each painted with a different design. Her broad shoulders and thick muscles bulged through her plain navy-blue tank top. Her skin was tanned from spending long hours training in the sun. She had a battle-hardened look to her that meant people often mistook her for a daughter of Ares. But her eyes was what made her stand out most- one grey, like her mother, one green, like her father. Her parents had told her how her birth had ended the centuries-long feud between Poseidon and Athena for good, and she had been given those eyes as a way of symbolising that. Another story. It felt like every part of her body had been attached to a story about something her parents had done. Why couldn’t she just be herself? She had spent 16 years living under the shadow of her parents, she was homeschooled from an early age, and had been going to camp since before she could even hold a sword- the demigod life was all she’d ever known. Someday, she’d get away from it all. She’d sink to the bottom of the Mariana Trench and just study the fish, and she wouldn’t have to worry about people or monsters

Suddenly, she felt something tap her on her shoulder. Quick as lightning, she grabbed Blue and spun around. Blue, still in fork form, was about a centimetre away from the neck of her intruder, who held up his hands in surrender.

“Whoah there!” He said.

When she saw who it was, she lowered the weapon and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Leo!” She cried.

“Hey, how’s my favourite cousin? Or… whatever.”

She looked at him and smiled. Despite him being old enough to be her dad, he was about half her size. With a thin, wiry frame and very little meat on his bones. His wild, curly brown hair framed his pointed face and elfish features. His dark skin was covered in a thin layer of motor oil and grime of unknown origin. He tapped her cheek affectionately, leaving a grubby handprint on her face. He walked over to her bed and leaped onto the top bunk, his legs dangling off the ladder.

“You need to stop growing,” he instructed, “You are getting too big, it’s not fair.”

“You need to stop being so short,” Olympia retorted, then her face broke into a huge smile, “I feel like I never see you anymore!”

“I know, you’re too old for me to babysit now, kiddo,” He complained.

“Well that always ended in disaster anyway. There’s still burn marks on that wall.”

“Did your mom find out?” He asked.

“Nope. Dad told her he just wanted to hang more pictures up. And then he went on a long speech about how nice she looked in that wedding photo, and then took her out for ice cream. I think she bought it.”

“Good.”

They stayed in comfortable silence for a few seconds, and then she asked, “So… it’s great that you’re here and all, but… why are you here?”

“What, I can’t come and visit my favourite partner in crime every now and then?”

“Leo…” Her tone was firm.

Leo’s face was suddenly dark and serious, he paused before speaking, but said, “I think I have news about your brother.”

That was Chapter 1- if this post gets… let’s say… 30 notes, I’ll post Chapter 2.

26 notes · View notes

ask-codeearasure · 11 days ago

Text

The Outer Realms -- Chapter 22

<-[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]->

Wish to refill Ink's Paints? Go to our Ask Box!

—-----

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Honesty Part 1

—----

“Honesty is the first chapter of the book wisdom.”

― Thomas Jefferson

—-

“Come on! Tell me! How do you do it?!” Leo begged, staring at Edelweiss who was sitting across from him. His curiosity was buzzing. This guy’s AU must be crazy compared to all the ones his brother visited.

Leo, Ink and Aster were all curious about how he had such strange spells, from cryokinesis to even the ability to appear human without it being a full on illusion. Though Ink had run off to change his clothes due to being covered head to toe in snow a moment ago, the guy was curious about the human transformation.

“I am also curious. Only Boss Monsters have such power on a daily basis, and the ability to transform into such a convincing human form is fascinating.” said Aster, who sat next to his son.

Edelweiss froze up and searched every word in his mind to try to figure out how to explain the way his powers worked and how he had such powerful magic. Finding the best route to go he took a deep breath and did his best to explain.

“For my Ice Magic, it’s a bit… hard to explain.” he began to use the magic to make a large snowflake made of ice, so he could fiddle with it, usually he’d take apart a gun but he didn’t want to seem threatening, “I’ve alwayz had it. At first I wasn’t all zat good at utilizing it but eventually something happened to… force me to train endlessly to improve my skills so I could join za military. I realized zat, to control the weather, the atmosphere itself, itz all about how zou think about it. Condensation, and controlling it through temperature. Once zou get that, itz as easy az breathing.”

He messed with the edge of the snowflake.

“As for za human form… I got zat for taking za soul of a human. Since it waz za same type of soul az one we already had, it waz given to me. I waz supposed to use it to go to za surface to collect za last few souls we needed, but everyone in za military protested because I waz too young, according to them.”

“Too young?” Leo asked, confused, “How old were you when you got it?”

“Ten.” Edelweiss answered. He didn't even need to think about the answer.

“Ten? And you were in the military?!” Aster exclaimed, “Who let you into the military?! Why?! Where were your parents?” shock and horror laced the hybrid’s voice like a thick syrup.

Edelweiss would’ve rolled his eyelights at the questions. “Yes. King Asgore. Because I needed to take care of my brother. And dead.”

Aster was taken aback by how casually and automatically Edelweiss answered the questions. The soldier likely had heard the questions many times in his life. But it was still shocking. How many AU’s did not have an orphanage? What about relatives? Why would the king of his AU let him in?

As they spoke, Ink had gotten the backpack Edelweiss had brought him and took it with him to the guest bedroom that he had woken up in, minding Error’s napping. They were rummaging through it, looking to find anything that could reawaken their missing memories. He found strange weapons and chains that he had no recollection of, and the empty paint vials that felt alien to him. Sure, they held the paints that helped him, but they didn't feel right. Like they didn't belong to him. He didn’t recall carrying jars with him instead of his usual sash of vials. Even the bag itself didn't feel like it belonged to him. He had no recollection of having it.

Upon taking those items out of the bag, he found a notebook that had several journal entries in it.

Was it his diary? Since when did he keep one? Did his scarf finally run out of space?

He opened up to a random page and began reading.

—--

Entry 5:

The doctors insisted that I need to feel emotions in order to function properly. That they're “important”. That they have a use for self-preservation and having connections with those around me. I don't understand it.

The other patient, Digital Klezmer, also insists that emotions are a necessity. That they are what make the worlds themselves interesting. Diverse.

That being emotionless is like a deck of cards that are all blank.

Nothing they say is really making sense.

It is all illogical.

The asylum itself is evidence of how emotions are useless and do nothing but harm. Perhaps emotions are a mental illness itself.

People are broken, unable to escape their own broken mental states because of their emotions. When I brought this idea up to Digital, he told me that if I kept up this line of thinking I will “lose everything to the house”. When I asked what he meant by that, he said it was Gambling Terminology, essentially meaning that I will lose everything I have and walk away with nothing.

I still don't get it.

What do I have to gain from emotions? What do I lose to not having them?

—-----

Was this even his? He knew exactly what he'd lose by not having emotions. He'd lose his life, his freedom, all his awareness. All feeling in every way, shape, and form. And even then, he had fun, he had connections, he had memories!

He flipped a few pages.

—-------

Entry 15:

Digital Klezmer is the strangest person here. I do not understand him. He always goes and plays the piano in the common room in A-Wing. He will even take the kids of this AU to show them how to play despite his irrational fear of physical contact.

He even taught them several simple melodies.

What did he gain from doing such a thing?

When I asked, he said “Nothing, I just felt like it.”

Though it was hard to understand him. That scarf of his kept getting in the way. Why does he even have it around?

He said it belonged to his brother. Claimed it meant a lot to him.

It's just a scarf.

His AU is gone. It served its purpose. Why keep the scarf around?

—------

Ink frowned and flipped several pages this time only to find something that they couldn't even describe.

The closest thing he could compare it to, was criminal evidence.

The pages were a mess and hard to understand, scribbles and smudges stacked on top of each other with scrawling and chicken scratches for handwriting. The most he could make out were the words ruined, lost, and done.

Ink didn’t know what they could do with any of this, but he now understood for certain this couldn’t possibly be his. Even the writing itself looked flat under normal circumstances, and they could recall they regularly wrote in cursive, for the sake of comparison. But if this was not him, whose diary was this?

The artist stopped pacing around the room and sat down against the bed’s side, turning to the back of the notebook for empty pages. He fished through the bag for a pen, pencil crayon, something, and got a broken colored pencil, then just to prove to himself that his handwriting was just as good as he remembered, scribbled random words on the empty page.

Okay. Cool. Definitely different.

Ink sucked in a breath and let his head fall back onto the corner of the mattress behind him, letting Error’s snores fill the atmosphere for a second before he started investigating again. Absentmindedly, he reached for the tail ends of his scarf, but their hands closed on nothing. Ugh, they forgot. Without his scarf, Ink felt a little naked.

They sighed and closed the notebook. Maybe they’d ask Error what was up whenever he decided to rejoin the land of the living, but he was… really irritated before Aster took them out of the room an hour ago.

But seriously, what the fuck was wrong with whoever owns this notebook? Ink didn’t want to profile them, but it was clear the two of them shared some similarity… in the… no-natural-supply-of-emotions part.

Ink ran his fingers up and down the fabric making the brown sweatpants he pulled on a few minutes ago ground him, letting them wander over the teal star patches sewn into it. They couldn’t figure out why reading through all that made them so disturbed, not when a big part of their work as the Guardian of AUs demanded he reads the scripts of every disturbing AU alongside every other story in the multiverse, and they definitely could get worse than Underfell. He felt sorry for whoever couldn’t stomach the simplicity of Underfell’s premise.

Though, that would mean he felt sorry for Dream, which didn’t have the most respectful connotation… oh my god. Dream.

He sat up immediately and went back into the closet across from the bed, fishing out a brown shirt, teal tank top to put over it, and grabbed one of Leo’s old hoodies, previously a bright blue, but turned a worn gray-blue shade with its age. He needed some layers. He just needed them.

Did they find Dream yet, cause he had a sinking feeling where his soul should have been that screamed NO.

Their body worked on autopilot, swiping a roll of dark gray sports tape and a silver necklace to add more than just brown and teal to their hopefully temporary look.

Distantly, they heard the front door open and close, catching the vocals of Aster and Leo welcoming in two other sources of voices which they recognized, but was again struggling with names. Aster is married, right…? That would mean he has another parent, and he was blanking on who that could be.

Ink wrapped the sports tape around his feet and ulna and radius, then twisted the necklace around his right arm. If it didn’t look as good as he visualized, they could always change it. The only thing missing still was his scarf and vials.

Okay, they were definitely missing more than that, but they couldn’t think of anything else they wanted right this minute for another layer of self-stability.

Ink sat down again with the bag and pulled out the last thing that stood out, which was another book, and opened it from the middle. The artist was greeted with solid and simplistic patterns, things one would find in birthday party banners from the dollar store, laminated construction paper that hung from the ceiling. It was that kind of deal. Ink flipped through the pages onwards, finding the same thing over and over and over, and the few differences between them that initially began in that middle segment were gradually taken out.

His brows furrowed, paired with another uneasy feeling he couldn’t recall the word to, and flipped back to the beginning, now greeted with more intricate designs and sketches, uses of the paper that had some life etched into it. There was some variety, drawings of people and places, sometimes things one would find specifically in a doctor’s setting, but the one theme common in most of them was this one specific person.

A skeleton wearing glasses, wearing a particularly fluffy jacket and a worn scarf, as they were shown almost every time they were drawn. Sometimes they discarded the jacket and stuck with a normal sweater, sometimes their face wasn’t even shown as they were drawn from a different angle, but the owner of this book had drawn them so frequently Ink could tell it was the same person over and over again regardless, but the one thing that stuck out to him the most was the presence of tear-tracks stretching down their cheeks from the bottom of their eyesockets.

It was no surprise there were other errors, even glitches that closely resembled them, throughout the multiverse, but none of them looked almost completely like Error.

The artist twisted from where they sat to look at their slumbering friend, then held up the sketchbook, turned to a page with the odd character, for the sake of comparison.

Error’s lookalike looked tired, more tired than Error himself did every other day, but this contender really took the cake. And in some sketches, the smile they presented made all of it look like there was no weight to it, no bite.

But Ink still couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong here, and it was beginning to irritate him beyond all else. He knew he knew this person too, and it wasn’t just their physical features shared with Error that ticked every box. He saw this person somewhere. He knew he did.

The sound of boots clacking against the floor down the hall snapped Ink out of their frustrations, and a particular pattern of soft knocking was audible from the guest room door.

“Ink, are you in there?”

Oh! That was one of the people that just got here! The artist sprang to his feet, the sketchbook an afterthought, and slowly turned the knob so the squeak wouldn’t disturb Error. Ink peeked out the door, his vision blurring with the minimal movement he had to offer, but could almost make out the person waiting for him. Now it finally clicked. This was Gaster.

Ink, by some miracle, managed to suppress the squeaky part of a squeal, pushing the door out of his way to hug Gaster’s legs as his other father laughed softly through his teeth, getting the hint he should be as quiet as possible as well, and backed away from the door as an extra measure as Ink proceeded to jump onto his shoulder, hugging Gaster’s entire face, their arms covering his eyes in an affectionate squeeze. Somehow, Gaster was able to maneuver the both of them out of the hallway despite his loss of sight and Ink’s refusal to budge, the artist’s ribcage rattling up a storm, making a fucked up purring noise. Gaster laughed, though it was muffled.

He reached up and patted Ink’s head and used the walls of the hallway to guide himself back to the dining room where Aster, Edelweiss, Balloon, and Leo were at. He knew he got to the dining room the moment he heard Aster gasp.

“Ink! Get off of your father! You could get both of you hurt like that!”

Ink whined as he felt Aster grab him by his sides to gently lift him off of Gaster’s face. Aster shook his head as he chuckled to himself.

Sons…

Gaster also seemed to take joy in the moment.

“Glad to see you easily remember dad than you do your own brother.” Leo teased.

Ink stuck his tongue out at Leo who rolled his eyelights.

“I see our guest is feeling a bit more comfortable,” Gaster looked over at Edelweiss who gave a nervous shrug.

“He will if you don’t tease the poor thing.” Aster whispered and used his tail to playfully pat Gaster’s shoulder.

“Thanks for helping Ink, by the way,” Gaster smiled, “He got us very worried there for a while.”

Edelweiss shrugged, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“Actually wait–” Ink said quickly, “if you can… I mean…do you know where Dream is? Also I’m missing my scarf and a few other things, do you know where they are?”

Aster put the artist down only for him to grab Edelweiss by the shoulders before the soldier could even answer the questions, “Please!”

Edelweiss rubbed the back of his skull and hummed, “I do know where Dream iz, but it will take a while to get zere. Az for zour belongings… I have an idea az to where they could be, but I doubt you’d want to get them on your own, but I might be able to figure out how to get them myself.”

Much to Edelweiss’ shock Ink grinned… then quickly looked away to vomit a pool of his namesake.

“Iz–” “It happens all the time, you’ll get used to it.” Ballon interjected. He didn’t even react when Ink manipulated the mess, shaping it into a carpet, then started changing the design over and over again.

Edelweiss looked at Balloon as if he said the sky was neon pink, and the resident Papyrus’s face brightened in response to his visible shock.

“I’m serious! One day with him will either make you or break you!”

“I think he gets the idea, Dodge Ball!” “Ink, my name is Balloon.” “Peu importe, Ballon.”

Balloon stood up from his seat in a playful threat and cracked his knuckles. “Don’t use your French against me, BROTHER! I WON’T UNDERSTAND YOU!!! I AM BEHIND ON MY FRENCH LESSONS!”

“C'est votre problème de compétence!”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, BUT I, THE HILARIOUS PAPYRUS, WILL ASSUME IT IS AN INSULT!!!”

The artist got the message and leaped out of the way of Balloon attempting to grab him. With a shit eating grin on his face, he hid behind Gaster’s legs like the vertically challenged gnome he is in spirit.

“Is everyone here insane or something?” Chara asked.

Edelweiss decided he didn’t want to die today, thus, he kept his mouth shut.

But as if this world hated him, Ink opened his big mouth. “What, you think you wouldn’t fit in or something, Chair-AH—” Leo swatted them with a rolled up napkin, having joined Balloon in messing with him.

Edelweiss grumbled under his breath, “Erschießen Sie mich.”

He was seriously going to have a long, long conversation with Klezmer about his choices in targets to attack. Along with maybe an extremely long month to a year in Asylumtale. Just… trying to figure out how to get this shitty human soul from pissing him off constantly. Perhaps even convincing Toriel to help him get the damn thing to go dormant so he could just live his life without having to put up with the damn demon every five fucking seconds.

“Verpiss dich.” Chara shot back at the soldier.

He heroically held back the urge to freeze his and Chara’s souls in dry ice.

Thankfully now, the world’s unrelenting supply of spite was put on pause. Ink squeezed himself in-between Aster’s wings and the back cushions of the couch, giggling like a maniac as Balloon quickly retreated and Leo attempted to climb right over their father to get to him, pillow in hand.

But have mercy on his impulsive ass, he got swallowed by their parents’ black and violet feathers, trapped for what could be a few minutes. Being trapped with Aster was no joke. The hybrid monster cleared his throat, keeping his grasp on Leo firm until he gave up the struggle and teleported to Edelweiss’s side, picking a couple feathers out of his eyesockets. “So uh. Know how to write with a quill?”

“I know four people who can, not counting myself.” Edelweiss shrugged, taking the biggest feather. He guessed he owed Izanagi an apology gift. Why were their Gasters like this?

In Leo’s absence, Aster had managed to snag Ink in his hold, but unlike his brother, the artist was content with his fate. Gaster sat next to them and crossed one leg over the other.

“May I have your attention, Ink?” “Of course!” Ink sat up a little straighter, watching as Gaster took off his top hat and pulled out folded fabric. The ringmaster straightened it out, then turned it to a shade of brown and started adjusting the color to something more faded. Ink leaned in closer to watch Gaster work, always fascinated with his mode of creation, even for the little things. “I wanted to know if you remembered anything before you arrived here with Error.” “Ah…,” The artist’s face fell, “I’ve been asking myself the same question, but I don’t really recall anything… sorry.” “Mm.” Gaster nodded, “I figured as much, but didn’t want to question your companion. Aster already tried with little results.” “Eeegh… yeah, that’s Error for ya!” Ink replied. “Is there anything we can do for you? It’s no secret you have a limited supply of paints. I’ve already made a few trips to the Doodlesphere and back–”

Ink nodded along, his face twisting with dull emotion, but enough for it to be obvious he wasn’t exactly pleased. The artist sighed, and Aster patted their head. “The creators have been gone for a while… I thought maybe everyone was taking a break, but it got too long and– someone came in and destroyed as many AUs as they could reach. I don’t… Error and I have been doing what we can to keep the remaining ones safe. I even brought their papers with me just in case they went back for more, but… I don’t know what else to do. I thought you and dad would help.” Aster and Gaster exchanged an understanding glance. Gaster breathed in, but Aster cut him off.

“I don’t know what we can do for the other universes, but maybe we can help you with your paints? We already made a few attempts, but they didn’t do anything to wake you until Edelweiss came along.”

Ink frowned, deep in thought. “It doesn’t work that way, I don’t think… My paints are created through, well, creation, and seeing how there hasn’t been much for a while, I uh– eheheh… I’m not sure if you can make the paints by yourselves. That’s the only process to it as far as I remember. Wait–” He then sat up a bit to look at Edelweiss. Thinking about Aster’s words he asked, “You got me the paints right?”

Edelweiss nodded.

Ink then asked, “Where did you get them from?”

Edelweiss sighed, “His name iz Sketch, he’s a bit like zou in the vain zat zou both don’t have souls and rely on paints to feel anything. But unlike zou, he refuses to take them. And despite this he doesn’t stop functioning. He only really carried them around because he didn’t want anyone to try to trick him into taking them.”

Ink stared at the soldier. So that bag and those notebooks belonged to this Sketch-person. Wait a minute…

“Wait, can he communicate with the creators too???”

Edelweiss thought about it, “The last time I heard anything about him doing so, he could hear them but never really tried. Mainly observed from a distance. I don’t see why he couldn’t communicate with them. Though I think he can only really hear two of them?”

Only two…

Shit.

Gaster looked down at Ink, “I doubt that would be enough to help recover enough of his medication.”

“Surely your friend knows more creators…” Balloon mumbled.

Weiss cringed at the word ‘friend’, “I can’t even say he knowz those creators. Like I said, he only observes them. Maybe he and Ink can go around looking for some. But I cannot promise anything.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Leo shrugged.

It was a gamble, but Ink had to admit it was better than nothing. Before Ink could say anything he saw Error walking into the room, stretching all the tension he could out of his bones.

“Error!” Ink exclaimed, “Have a nice nap?”

Error nodded, “Mmmhm–” he froze and stared at the soldier. Eyeing the shorter skeleton suspiciously.

“Oh, that’s Edelweiss!” Ink said only for the glitch to suddenly attack the soldier with a flurry of scarlet bones. When the shock wore off, they found the chair was impaled beyond repair, but Weiss was gone.

Weiss was barely able to dodge the attack but was able to make a quick teleport to the other side of the room.

“ERROR, WHAT THE—”

“You IDIOT, that’s the guy who shot Dream!” Error growled, “That Klezmer guy was the one who told us that, remember!?”

Edelweiss didn’t deny it.

—---

Klezmer watched as the multiverse went dark. He hated it. Fact was he hated the darkness of what always appeared to be Death. It was just something that made him shudder. He found his target and yet had to contend with the fact that his target was likely going to kill him if he didn’t find Edelweiss should the worst come to fruition. That was his end of the deal.

If anything were to happen. If he were to find himself nearing Death’s door. If he were to be running out of mana. He needed to find Weiss and just be nothing more than a mouse leading the predator to a different target for his own survival.

It was the worst feeling in the world. But here he was, with the weapons that Edelweiss crafted for him.

Edelweiss had discovered that enough gravity magic could force the arrows to shatter. It was thought only Morabito himself could ever break the arrows and destroy them – powderize them. But no. Edelweiss, being the weapons master he was, found that enough Gravity Magic was the one other factor the arrows had no other choice to give into. It took a lot of mana, but he was able to craft the many weapons they all had been relying on to try to at least incapacitate the abomination that was Nightmare.

But this… this was practically his Magnum Opus. The epitaph to Nightmare… hopefully.

Ribbon-spears woven with Klezmer’s strings coated and woven with strings made of the Positivity Magic Morabito had to make the arrows. He had about twenty, considering that he often had Edelweiss’ help with weaving all of them when they were first developed. But this would allow him to be able to control the weapons without even thinking about it, as always.

He had them all pulled back the same way he had them in his fight against Ink. The rotating strings lending their momentum to the ribbon-spears, all the strings pulled taught just to lend to their soon launch to have a velocity and power that would rival any arrow’s pound-per-square-inch.

Here he stood on a gaster-blaster waiting for the abomination to show itself. He even had a ribbon spear, unfurled and wrapped around his neck like a scarf. He knew that if anything, this was going to be a fight to the death, whether he looked for Edelweiss or not. It wasn’t an exaggeration.

That creature was only against killing because it preferred torture. Calling it a monster was insulting. It was more than a monster, more than any demon Izanagi could ever summon. It was worse than that, and the issue was there weren’t enough words in the English language that could properly describe it.

And Klezmer was suicidal enough to say ‘Fuck it, I’ll fight the damn thing to bide Dream some more time to recover because balance and whatever.’

The moment he spotted the damn creature, Klezmer held back the urge to vomit. He wasn’t sure why. Fear? Maybe. Disgust? Possibly.

A complex mix of emotions that couldn’t even be described due to the fact that he could hear Death’s humming as it observed him and the damn creature, knowing what the outcome would be despite the fact that nothing has happened yet?

Definitely.

That damned song.

Oh Death, won’t you spare me over til’ another year?

That accursed song.

That song it loved so much because it showed its favorite aspect of the living. The unyielding begging to be spared from being taken.

Klezmer summoned the embodiment of his contract: The Lantern. He stared at it. Its faint emerald glow made him feel uneasy. He kept it.

He swore he heard a chuckle.

He took a deep breath and used the spell Edelweiss taught him: Calculation.

With a wave of his hand he was able to see where his target was and all the escape routes it could take. It was as if the Check spell was more advanced. More designed for enhancing lethal spells. The moment it finished…

He fired 18 of the ribbon-spears at his possible murderer.

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