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petrichor-idyllic · 2 years ago

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Hi Petri, so I was wondering (cause I know you have many aks) if you could do a Gally x fem! reader where she's with the rebels from death cure, and she's one of the people who find him almost dying in that room after the maze. She's super nice but can put up with his awful attitude, he hates being taken care of cause he feels remorse about what he did to his friends and she helps him overcome his self pity. And then in the end he sees the boys again and Frypan is excited cause Gally is with someone who can actually stand him and make him a "better" person. (Hope this was understandable, luv you)

This is the Gally content I was looking for.

Also, lu, I messaged you a while back when you sent me another request about TMR about a different Maze type. I don't think it was that important to the story but I just wanted to clear it up lmao and I don't think you saw it. So if you could get back to me that'd be great :))

DEAD MAN WALKING PT. 1

MASTERLIST | GALLY MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, Gally nearly dying, Chuck's body, the aftermath of the Maze, Lawrence. WICKED being WCKD because movie.

You weren't always one of Lawrence's men.

For anyone that wasn't immune, working for WCKD or lucky enough to find themselves in the Last City- life was a shitshow.

If you were even lucky enough to live, chances are you lost your parents to the Flare before you hit double digits. That's if you didn't catch it yourself. And no one cares about your sob-story either. You're just another poor bastard who has dealt with the same shit as everyone else.

Tough.

You lost your parents when you were about twelve, and got swept into smuggling serum from place to place. Or as it's known on the streets- Bliss.

Which is how you met Lawrence.

He became one of your regular buyers, and by the time you hit fifteen, you'd been swept into his growing group of radicals.

Lawrence likes you. You're kind but capable, and not afraid to draw blood need be. Which is why you're one of his main men- and you get to boss other people around.

Somehow, Lawrence got wind of WCKD facilities out in the Scorch, which, unfortunately for you, means trekking out there to check them out.

Luckily, you'd managed to get ahold of some old ranger trucks that you blatantly stole off of WCKD.

"Let's go, boys!" You hollar as you lean out of the side of the open front vehicle, holding onto the windscreen pole.

It's quite an unpopular opinion, but you actually quite like the Scorch. It's barren and massive, and empty.

Not one really comes out here and it's one of the few places you and your men can actually mess around a bit.

I mean, it's not like you're going to actually find anything in the Scorch, right? You accepted a long time ago that Lawrence is chasing rainbows and they're never going to let him into the Last City.

It's not like you don't have ways into the City. But Lawrence wants the entire population to live there, and he wants to shut down the walls for good. So, for now, you're stuck trying to find ways to do that.

"Uh, Boss?" The driver says as you stare off into the sand. "You seein' this?"

"Huh?" You turn.

Perpendicular to the way you're driving, you can just see the top of a massive stone structure from over the top of some of the dunes. "The hell?"

"Should we check it out?"

"Yeah, let's go." You put your fingers to your lips, sending out a high-pitched whistle. "Let's go!" You signal the other cars behind you, waving in the direction of the structure.

You drive over the sand, bouncing over the soft surface.

"Holy shit," you mumble, the building coming into view properly as you come over the dune.

It's unfathomably big and round. Looming stone walls that covers hundreds of metres of the Scorch. It has to be miles long as you approach.

"There!" You point. "There's an entrance!"

You grind to a halt, sand flickering everywhere as you jump out. Your automatic rifle is pulled up from the strap on your shoulders as you hold it, walking through the doors. Your men aren't far behind you as you enter the the building.

"What the fuck?" Someone behind you mutters.

In front of you is a destroyed laboratory. High tech computers and shattered glass litters the place, along with the corpses of several people dressed in white coats.

"What happened here?" You look around, lowering your gun and freezing when you find a body.

It's a kid. He's chubby and has curly brown hair. Can't be any older than thirteen. Blood stains his chest and his vacant stare is just another line on the list of horrors you've seen.

You crouch next to him. "What happened to you, buddy?"

You touch his face. Cold.

You sigh, moving your hand and closing his eyes. "Poor sod."

"Uh, Boss, we got another," you look up. One of your guys stands over another body. He's fallen on his side, a spear sticking straight through his chest and out the other side.

"Jesus," you stand up again, walking over.

The boy has black spider veins all over his body and his eyes are completely dark. You've never seen anything like it.

Looking around the lab, you spot large syringes full of a strange blue liquid. Walking over to the table where they are, you pick one up.

But you partially jump out of your skin when there's a sharp gasp from behind you, accompanied with a string of swear words from your colleagues.

The boy on the floor is alive and squirming.

"He's alive?" You ask, in some form of shock. "How is that even possible?"

No one responds as the boy starts to thrash, letting out a blood-curdling scream. It's almost like something is moving under his skin as you look at what's in your hand and then back at him.

Storming over, you slam the syringe into his arm.

Almost immediately, he stills again, his eyes and skin quickly returning to normal.

"What the hell? What did you just do?" You ignore the confusion from your men.

Pressing your fingers to the boy's throat, you feel a pulse and he seems to be breathing- somehow. He's unconscious again, though.

"Contact Lawrence," you instruct, "someone else help me get him up."

"What?"

"He needs a doctor."

"So, what? We're taking him with us?"

"If we save him- he might have information on what was going on here. We can always come back. Come on!"

It's a bit of a rush against time to get him back to base and the outskirts of the City. But he's still alive, somehow.

You have one of the best top surgeons on your side. He used to work in the City, but he's infected, so he was thrown out. So, now he's using the little time he has left to help you guys.

"You really think this guy is worth it?" You pace the common area, a couple of your close allies watching.

"Lawrence seems to think so."

"This is dumb. We should've just raided the place and let the bastard rot."

"Oi," you snap, "watch it. We're meant to be for the people, remember? That means everyone."

It's been days since you brought him in, and you're starting to think it's a dead end. But you couldn't just leave him there.

"Miss," one of the surgeon's assistants pops his head around the corner, "he's awake."

You exchange glances with the others before slipping away. Going down the halls, you reach the "medical" room. Which is basically just a bed and some stolen IV drips.

The boy sits on the bed, his head in his hands and a bloodied bandage around his chest.

"You got a name?" You ask. He's noticed your presence, but hasn't said anything, so you decide to speak.

Nothing.

"Hey," you continue, "you alright, man?"

"Where am I?" He asks eventually, his hands flopping into his lap. "Why am I alive?"

"Looks like it wasn't your time," you shrug. "Sorry."

"I should be dead. I hurt... I killed Chuck." His hands come to his head again. "I killed him. I hurt that kid. It should've been Thomas... I would've never... I didn't..."

"You talkin' about that kid in there?" You ask, casually putting your hands in your baggy pant pockets.

He finally looks at you. His eyes are bloodshot and he's pale. "You saw him?"

You pull your lips into a thin line, nodding. "You killed him?"

His jaw tenses, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't mean to- I really didn't mean to. I-I was stung, I lost control and I shot the wrong person."

"Lost control?"

"The Grievers! I tried to escape the Maze and I got stung and I shot Chuck and Minho speared me. I should be dead! I deserve it."

"If you weren't in control of yourself, then you can't really blame yourself."

Maybe you should be freaking out more. He's just confessed to killing a child. But WCKD is capable of things beyond human possibility, so controlling someone against their will isn't exactly groundbreaking nowadays.

You've seen people do terrible things to survive. You've done terrible things to survive. This is the last place he'll be judged. This place is full of blood and ghosts of corpses- that's just how the world is now.

The guilt never really goes away, so you sympathise.

He stares at you, blankly. He sniffs. "Who are you?"

You walk up to him, holding your arm out for him to shake. "(Y/N). I'll ask you again; you got a name?"

"Gally," he slowly takes your hand, giving you a weak shake.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gally, I just wish it were under better circumstances. You reckon you're up to answering some of my questions, or do you need some more time to recover?"

"Can you answer my question first?"

You sigh. "You're safe here." You say bluntly. "I dragged your ass out of that WCKD facility. So, if you wanna blame someone for your mortality, you can shout at me for it later. We're a group of rebels outside the City - we try to help people that WCKD doesn't. The Right Arm has been MIA for years, so we're the best you've got, I'm afraid."

Gally has some of his memories back. He remembers the Flare, WCKD and rumors of the Right Arm. He's missing pieces, but has enough to understand what you're talking about.

"So, are you willing to talk? You'd much rather deal with me than my Boss- trust me."

He nods, clearing his throat. "What do you wanna know?"

Gally is surprisingly cooperative, probably because he's on a lot of painkillers and has a lot of fresh trauma. He tells you about the Maze, his memory loss, his friends and the monsters he faced.

Lawrence agreed to let you deal with this, but you know he's going to want to speak to him.

"Experimenting on kids?" Lawrence scoffs, throwing down your notes about what Gally said on the desk in front of him and sighing. "That's a new low, even for WCKD."

"You're telling me."

"What about the boy? You think he'll be useful?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He's well built and has a lot of potential. Used to be leader of the Builders or some shit- could be useful if we need to make this place bigger."

"Can he shoot?"

You hesitate. "Yep."

"Hm."

"We protect people that need it, Lawrence- he needs it more than most. He's also probably immune and we can get Bliss out of him."

Lawrence hesitates. "Okay, he can stay- but don't let your hero complex get the better of you. He's the same as everyone else here."

"You got it, Captain."

And with that word of warning, Gally kind of ends up under your wing. You show him around, give him a cluster of pillows and blankets to use as a bed if he's lucky enough to find an empty space on the floor, and actually teach him how to shoot (properly).

Gally is standoffish and rude- something you come to learn fairly quickly. He looks down on people who are sick or weak, and whilst he seems to care a lot about things, he's bitter and angry.

He also doesn't appreciate being cared for or looked after. He doesn't think he deserves it and he hates being pitied. But, he has little choice and it takes a while for him to accept that he doesn't have much choice.

And he's not used to the way the Flare affects people.

"Gally, stop staring."

"Gally, don't say that."

"Gally, they don't know what shank means- you're gonna get beat up."

"Gally put that down; it's Lawrence's."

He's definitely a problem child.

From the sounds of the Glade; Gally is completely out of his depth. The Glade was serene and peaceful, run under Alby, who was firm but understanding and everyone had a common goal and kept things smooth. Your den isn't like that.

It's bloodthirsty and cutthroat. Anyone with a reputation has it for reasons that you don't want to know, and Lawrence isn't scared to put a bullet in the head of anyone who pisses him off.

So, when Gally has a meeting with Lawrence after a month, your heart is in your throat.

"So, Gally, how are you finding it here?" Lawrence leans on his desk. His skeletal appearance and weak state means he rarely ventures out amongst the crowds, so Gally is visibly uncomfortable.

When he doesn't respond, you nudge him, nodding to answer his question.

"It's been... fine." You inwardly cringe as Lawrence stands up.

"Fine? We house you, let my best mentor you, and all you call our hospitality... fine?"

Gally looks to you for advice. "No, uh, it's good. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"That's more like it."

"Why did you want to see him, Bo-"

"I'm not talking to you, am I?" Lawrence cuts your off, immediately making you regress into yourself.

Something about it makes Gally's jaw tense. You're one of the few people that has consistently looked out for him- and you're the only girl he's ever actually befriended. So, that combined has led to him developing a small crush on you.

So, watching him demean you like that makes him furious.

"Why am I here?" Gally asks, and Lawrence snaps to look at him. "What? You wanted to talk to me about something."

Lawrence scoffs, offering a toothy smile. "I want you to join the patrols and search parties with (Y/N)." He tosses him a mask from his desk. It's a gas mask with a screen sheild- something everything one is expected to wear to keep roxins out of the system. Though, you suspect the tinted glass is to hide Gally's identity. He is a WCKD subject, after all. You, however, just tend to wear the bottom half of the mask on jobs.

You need to see more than the others.

"You're muscle and immune; we need both. Does that work for the both of you?"

You exchange glances before speaking in unison. "Yes, Boss."

And just like that, Gally has become an official member of your team.

He struggles with crowd work. Storming through the crowds of infected that often surround the City is dangerous work. More for you than him, since the Flare is an actual threat to you. But it's necessary work.

You have to give out food and Bliss; often using the time to trade information from the locals that reside there.

He can become aggressive and shoves a lot of people out of the way, but he mellows under your gaze. He wants to do what you think is right, and be better because you saved him.

He owes you.

He prefers the trips to the Scorch. He, however, does not like it when you actually find a Maze. He'd normally wait outside.

And had he been put on anyone else's team, he'd be forced to join. But you don't make him. You need him as mentally stable as possible- revisiting trauma is not the way to do that.

For the next five-ish months, that's how it is.

Until things get considerably worse.

They shut down the City. To everyone.

No one, not just the infected, can enter.

The outskirts of the City turned into full-blown riots. You and your men are up to their necks in discourse. More people are joining the edge of the City as the people realise they really are fucked.

Gally, who has become an actual decent soldier and person under your pressure, seems distracted on this particular day.

You're doing your usual rounds as best as you can, sitting armed on the top of trucks as one of Lawrence's men eggs on the rebellion through speakers.

"This is a shit show," you mumble as Gally stares off into the crowd. You can't see his expression, but his body is tense and he pays no mind to what you just said. "Gally?" You nudge him.

"What?"

"I said this is a shit show."

"Yeah," he sounds completely disinterested, "it is."

He's acting weird, but you're too deep into a riot, and there are WCKD drones circling.

"I know them," Gally says.

"What?"

He nods towards a group in the crowd as they're struggling to slip through the people. "I was in the Glade with them."

You blink at him. "What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's Thomas, Newt and Fry- I'd recognise them anywhere. We have to find them; they'll be dead out here." He turns, signalling some of the guys to follow him before he jumps off of the van.

"Wha- Gally!"

"Boss?" You turn to them, the men waiting your instructions.

You hesitate. "Do as he says- follow Gally's orders. I'll stay here."

They nod, also diving off the vehicle and vanishing into the crowd. You have to keep an eye on things here.

Which probably wasn't your best shout because a metallic groaning noise starts, and before you know it, missiles are being fired left and right at the crowds.

"Go! Go!" You scream, directing civilians, now also on the ground.

"Boss! We gotta go!"

"They're murdering innocent civilians!"

"We can't help them now! Come on!"

Running through the crowd, a sickening thought hits you. "Where's Gally? Hey, where's Gally?!"

"I don't know! We'll find him back at base!"

"Shit."

It's a mad rush back to camp, but you didn't expect to find what you do.

Gally is on the floor as you jump out of the van again, he's pinned to the floor by some dude you don't recognise as a blond boy tries to calm the situation.

"Oi!" You shout, jogging over and letting your mask fall around your face. "What the hell is going on here?!"

You men hold guns pointed at the boy. "Stand down! Now!" You grab the boy's jacket, yanking him up and away from Gally. "The fuck are you playing at? You tryna get shot?"

"It's fine," Gally groans as he sits up. "Kinda had that coming. Anyone else? Fry? Newt?"

"You know this guy?" An older gentleman asks, clearly lost.

"He was an old friend," (you're assuming) Frypan says.

"How?" Newt says. "How is this possible? We watched you die."

"No, you left me to die," Gally corrects. "And if we hadn't found you when we did, you'd be dead right now. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Minho," Newt simply says. "WCKD has him here. We're looking for a way in."

Gally looks at you, tilting his head slightly and pulling his lips into a thin line.

You sigh, knowing this means a lot to him. "We can help with that. Follow me."

"I'm not going anywhere with him," Thomas snaps.

"Suit yourself." Gally says.

"But we can get you through those walls," you add.

They all reluctantly start following as Gally briefly explains how he ended up here along with what your operation is.

He warns them about Lawrence, before taking them to talk to him.

"Hey," you grab his wrist, stopping him and he looks at you. "I'm gonna go check on our wounded, send a patrol car out to help those hurt at the scene."

"You're leaving?" His eyebrows furrow for a second. This'll be the first thing that Gally's done without you. He's never even spoken to Lawrence before without your reassuring presence.

Frypan looks at Newt, smirking slightly. They were close in the Glade, and it's obvious to Frypan that something has definitely changed in Gally. And he thinks that's to do with you.

"You seem to have things under control here; I have other men I need to worry about. I won't be long."

You turn to leave, but Gally stops you again. "Stay alive."

You grin at him. "I'll try my best. No promises, though."

You do what you say and return to the scene, helping everyone you can whilst Gally takes Thomas and Newt through the tunnels.

By the time you get back, you're exhausted and Gally is standing around a table with Brenda, Jorge and Frypan. Thomas and Newt have vanished.

You walk into the room, immediately gaining Gally's attention.

"Still kicking, then?"

"Told you I'd try my best," you put your hand on his shoulder as he looks over some scattered plans. "How've things been here? You got a plan?"

"Kinda. Thomas doesn't seem too happy with it, though."

"Bummer. Any other options?"

"Not really."

"He's gonna have to cope, then."

You slip away, moving into another room but shouting back. "I'm gonna get a drink, anyone want one?"

You get a couple of yes' and go on to provide.

"You never told us your girlfriend's name," Gally looks up at Frypan, who is sitting with his arms crossed, smirking.

Gally scoffs. "She's called (Y/N)- and she's not my girlfriend. She's my Boss."

"Ah, well, you always said you think you'd like powerful women." Gally glares at his friend, but struggles to repress the smile on his lips. "You've changed, shank."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Frypan smiles genuinely.

You come back in with a few glasses, immediately making them change the conversation. "Where are your friends?"

"They went outside to talk," Gally answers as you give him a glass. "Thanks."

"So," you casually put your hands in your pockets, "what's the plan then?"

You did not expect the plan to be kidnap.

It's awkward and stressful watching Teresa cut open the boys' necks and pulling out a thin bit of wire.

You're sticking with Lawrence in his attempt to breach the walls and Gally is going with the Gladers. You dislike this plan, but you think Gally is more than capable.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The group is splitting up and Brenda and Jorge are saying their goodbyes too.

"We need to do this," Gally sighs.

"For a guy that tried to kill you?"

"He had every right to try and kill me."

You sigh, leaning back on a pillar.

"You gonna tell me not to go? Give me the order to stay?"

He sounds almost hopeful. You don't know when you started prioritising Gally over the others. Maybe it was because he became your responsibility but over time your feelings of protection became romantic.

You don't want him to leave. You don't want to split up and let him go into the lion's den, but you need to do this. And so does he.

It's obvious this is a way of him repenting for what he's done.

You shake your head. "No, we gotta do this. You'll be fine, just stay in contact."

He seems almost disappointed. "Yes, Boss."

They group set up to leave, and you anxiously tap your foot, knowing you should be leaving and preparing yourself.

Fuck it.

"Gally! Wait!" You jog over to him as he sorts out his WCKD uniform, just about to leave.

He looks at you as you rush to him, throwing your arms around him. He stumbles backwards, his hand coming to the small of your back.

Pulling away, you look at him and he looks at you. And, impulsively, you kiss him. He freezes momentarily, before pulling you closer and kissing you back.

"Stay alive." You mumble as you part.

He scoffs, smiling. "I'll try my best."

Another Gally piece for you guys. This might be one of those that requires a part 2 because I have too much to get through to be doing too many long pieces and I've just finished a three part story lol.

Let me know if you'd want that.

I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri tmr gally #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #the maze runner #tmr gally #gally tmr #gally imagine

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sebsxphia · 1 year ago

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tell me all of it! i wanna know!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

Y: A character you want to protect.

❤

thank you so much for this my love! 💗

F: oh this is really hard! i had to choose two.

the first snippet is from, home & promises with rhett. i’ve cut some lines out, but writing this was such a painful joy. the invisible string part? god damn, if i do say so myself! i’m proud of it because i personally feel it captures the underlying tension between you both after not seeing each other for so long. rhett is trying to prod at you, trying to hear what he wants to hear and you know that, but it hurts too much to admit it.

His gaze flicks to yours. “Is that what you always wanted?”

You know what he’s getting at. You know what he’s trying to unearth, uncover. Prove to himself that this was a good decision.

“Yeah.” You hold your voice again, not letting it waver like it did in the truck four years ago. He leans across the table and instinctively you pull yourself closer to him. It feels like he’s pulling on an invisible string that connects the two of you. It’s a sentiment that was stretched all across America for four years and now it’s drawing you closer and closer to him. Your sweetheart.

…“You happy?” His voice is dangerously low and his Southern drawl slurs his words and sends a shiver down your neck and all along your spine. You grimace at his question and hold your breath before letting it go and telling him a blatant lie that you both know. “Yep.”…

He breaks first and pulls away from the table and slumps back into the leather bar seat. He changes the subject entirely.

the second snippet is from, “who hurt you?” with rhett. again, i’ve cut some lines out, but this came so naturally to me to write and i think that’s why i’m so proud of it. it’s how you don’t say specifically what happened, but how rhett just knows. it’s the subtle phrasing that makes rhett understand and how it doesn’t need to be said. it’s heartbreaking, but it truly shows how well rhett knows you. it’s a piece i hold very dear and personal to me.

“Did you drive?”

You hesitated on your answer. No matter the response, it wasn’t going to help you try and hide what happened.

“No, I ran.”

Rhett’s eyebrows twisted downwards ever so slightly.

“I live a good mile away from town, angel.”

“After everything happened I screamed at Darren, like I lost it Rhett.” You twiddled with the hem of your t-shirt as Rhett continued to patch you up. You still couldn’t look at him. You felt shame clouding your senses. “He lost it back at me. I’d never seen him like that. I mean sure, we’ve only been dating like a month, but- but you really see peoples true colours when they’re drunk, huh.”

…Rhett stuck a butterfly band aid to the side of your face and cleaned up the rest of your blood. “And the gash?” He paused. “He punched you, angel. You don’t get that after a blow to the eye.”…

Now Rhett was finished with bandaging you up he could slip his hands to yours and give them a light squeeze. He wanted you to know he was here. He was going to listen to anything you had to say and reassure you with all his might. The tears that had pooled in your eyes from before were now slipping over and onto your cheeks. You held his gaze and bit your bottom lip harshly. You were trying to stop the sobs that wanted to tear from your throat. You winced as you reminisced what followed after and how you got the gash.

You didn’t need to say it, Rhett knew.

G: 99% of the time i write my story from start to finish, however this preacher rhett series has been completely out of order! it’s been whatever i’ve been feeling at the time to write.

P: similar to the above, i’m definitely a “gardener” and i let the story unfold as i go. i have a basic plan of what i want the piece to include, but as i write it from start to finish, i find myself adding things i perhaps didn’t have planned at all. i just go with the flow baby!

R: oh goodness, absolutely! @hederasgarden @wildbornsiren @yespolkadotkitty and @oncasette were some of the first top gun and rhett fics i read. the way they wrote for the characters and provided such sinfully good filth and incredible imagery was a huge influence to me. i still think about their fics now and i think i always will! they will always stay with me.

Y: my baby boy rhett abbott <3 i will protect that man and give him a good life!

fanfic ask game! ask me!

#💌you’ve got mail #sarahsmi13s <33 #preacher!rhett abbott

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 2 years ago

Text

Not My Type - Chapter 17

Word Count : 1531

Story Masterlist

Taglist : @lordduckass @hoohoohope

Though he could barely understand her drunks texts, as soon as she sent her location, he was in his car driving towards her. He wonders what happened to make her drink so much, though he knows it has to be something to do with Yeonjun. It always had to do with Yeonjun.

He knows she loves Yeonjun, but that didn’t stop him from developing feelings for her. The way she carries herself. The way she practically glides around. Everything about her drew him in, and he was falling before he could stop himself. Rushing to her every time she asked him to. Giving her everything she asks for.

She stumbled into the bar right before Hongjoong was going to close up. He was about to tell her to leave when he saw the tears in her eyes. He could smell the booze on her breath and knew he couldn’t leave her alone. So he locked the doors and sat her down at one of the booths, grabbing them a few drinks, and sitting across from her.

“What’s bothering you, princess?” The nickname slipped from his lips, causing butterflies to erupt in her stomach. No one remembers how the nickname started, but that didn’t stop it from sticking. The princess of Déjà Vu.

“Yeonjun and I broke up.” She said, her words still quite clear. So he slid her a drink. He let her vent and cry. He knows sometimes that’s all you need. Sometimes you just need someone to listen to you. “Why can’t I be good enough?” She cried, her tears slowly getting worse. This prompted Hongjoong to slide out of his side and slide in beside her, taking her shaking body into his arms.

“You’re way more than good enough, princess. Yeonjun is just an idiot.” Her head rested on his shoulder with his arms tightly wrapped around her, his fingers drawing small shapes into her arm to calm her sobs. And slowly, the tears came to an end, and she removed her head from his shoulder, meeting Hongjoong’s eyes.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” She whispered, moving her face closer to his. Hongjoong was frozen in his spot, confused about the fluttering of his heart. She was his employee, nothing more. But she kept getting closer, and he found himself not wanting to pull away.

“You’re drunk and hurt right now. I’m not going to take advantage of that.” Hongjoong whispered, brushing some of the hair out of her face. But she just pouted at him. It was hard to resist, with her so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her flushed cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea the effect you have on me, Y/n.” But she didn’t look away. She kept pouting at him, so he took the chance, quickly pressing his lips to her pout, making her bust into a wide smile.

“Do it again.” She giggled. He hesitated, but obliged nonetheless, unable to resist her any longer. He couldn’t help but completely give into her charms. And he finally realized why guys were flocking to her in the hundreds, falling at her feet for the chance he almost gave up.

She was still in his arms when they woke up, smiling up at him with stars in her eyes. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when his eyes opened and met hers, and he wonders what spell she put on him for him to fall this fast. “Did you want me to leave?” She asked softly, her smile slowly fading the longer he laid there in silence.

But he kissed away her worries, telling her he wants her to stay. They spent the entire morning in his bed. He tried showing her just how much he wanted her to stay. That he didn’t just want her to stay today, but tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He wanted her to stay until they grew sick of each other, though he knows it’s impossible to grow sick of her.

The memory hit him like a truck when he saw her outside of a club he knows she’s never been to before. Mingi stood beside her, rubbing her back as she furiously wiped at her tears. “Hongjoong?” Mingi questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“She asked me to pick her up.” He explained. When she realized Hongjoong came for her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss without a care in the world. And though he knew it was wrong, he melted into her, not caring that Mingi was right there. “Don’t tell anyone.” Hongjoong warned Mingi, who just nodded at him and returned inside, knowing Y/n was in good hands. “Let’s go princess.” He whispered to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, noticeably more sober than she was when Hongjoong first picked her up. Her eyes were half closed as she looked out the window. Hongjoong found it absolutely endearing, thinking to himself that she was the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He knows she puts on a tough front, but he knows better than anyone just how fragile she truly was, just wanting to be loved and accepted in a world that wasn’t built for her.

“Our spot.” He answered, stealing glances towards her. She turned her body towards Hongjoong, watching him as he drove, smiling to herself. Maybe Yeonjun cheating on her was a blessing in disguise, giving her a reason to end it for good, and find someone that would love her wholeheartedly.

“Why are we here?” She asked as Hongjoong walked for the concrete barrier stopping them from falling to their deaths. “I thought we were going back to your place?” She stepped beside him, taking in the gorgeous view in front of her.

“I come here sometimes when I need to clear my head. I wanted to show it to you because you seem like you could really use a place like that. A place away from the chaos below.”

She stared out at the view, not realizing that Hongjoong was no longer looking at the view he’s seen a thousand times, and instead is looking at her, his new favourite view. He watched as her eyes flittered across all the buildings, trying to take in as much as they could at once. She seemed to visibly relax, letting go of all the tension in her body.

Hongjoong never believed he would be sharing his special place with anyone, but Y/n has a way of pulling you in and making you do anything you can to keep her around. He wanted to gift her the universe in a box with a beautiful bow on top, but he knew that was impossible. So he was going to show her parts of him he never showed anyone else. Let her know she was special. That the way Yeonjun treats her isn’t the way she should be treated. That she deserves better.

“This is where I realized I had feelings for you.” She blurted out calmly as they ascended the stairs. Hongjoong stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to look at her. “What? Did I say something wrong?” She blinked a few times at him, a slight pout on her face, similar to the one she gave him that first time in the bar, drawing him in and making him kiss her. Just like now, slowly moving in and pressing his lips to hers.

“No, not at all.” He whispered as he pulled away, sliding his hand into hers and leading her the rest of the way up. “What made you drink so much tonight?” He asked as they leaned on the concrete barrier, staring up into the night sky.

“Pretty sure Yeonjun was cheating on me with his ex.” She answered nonchalantly, as if telling him what she made for dinner. “Honestly, I’m more upset that I was dumb enough to continue to take him back every time he fucked up. I was just so convinced that the love he gave me was the love I deserved.” She continued, turning around, and sitting on the ground, placing her head on the concrete, closing her eyes.

Hongjoong followed suit, sitting beside her, and resting his head on the concrete. “You deserve so much better than he gave you.” He whispered, turning his head to look at her, seeing she was already looking at him.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps on telling me. I guess I just don’t believe it.” The two sat in a comfortable silence, staring at each other as she sobered up more and more. She came to terms in that moment that Yeonjun wasn’t good for her, she deserves more than what he gave her. She deserves the kind of love Hongjoong shows her every chance he gets. “If I asked you to wait for me to get over this hurt, what would you say?”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “I can wait. You’ll be worth the wait.”

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

515 notes · View notes

beauvibaby · 3 years ago

Text

Purple and Yellow – j.oleksiak

• Jamie Oleksiak goes through heartbreak and challenges along with his daughter but then he meets a woman who seems to catch both their hearts •

a/n: ok this is NOT proof read at all I’m sorry but I knew if I went back and did that I’d end up hating it and not wanting to post it but I know y’all wanted it so here you go!

Word Count: 6.1k

Jamie knew he was going to Seattle, and he’d be lying if he said the proposition didn’t excite him, but once his name was inked on that paper, reality came crashing in. He had to up and move his daughter, she was only three, maybe it wouldn’t be that hard. But who was he kidding, everything is hard with a three year old. And how would he explain that they wouldn’t be able to visit mommy every weekend, just like they did every weekend since. That’s all that plagued his mind as he drove home from the airport, Ivy was waiting for him, but he knew she’d succumb to her sleepiness before he could get there. His parents already texting him with a picture of her half asleep on the couch.

Then, the cars on the other side of the road slammed on their brakes, the sound of tires spinning out made everything come rushing back.

“Is this the father of Ivy Oleksiak?” Jamie didn’t even have a chance to speak before the words came across the phone, “yes, who’s speaking?” Jamie replied, heart rate picking up at the soft sigh the woman let out. “Your daughter and Miss Cora Hadley were brought into Medical City from a car accident scene.” All she said were those words before he was rushing to his feet, “are they ok?” He asked quickly, never getting a pair of shoes on so quickly in his life. “Sir, I’m not–“ “Bullshit! Is my baby and my fiancé ok?” He snapped, based on the way she whimpered, a rather young woman on the other end of the line. “Your daughter will be fine, just some scratches, the car seat did it’s job.” She spoke slowly, her breath hitching. “I think it’s best you get here as quickly as possible.” She spoke carefully, and in that moment Jamie’s heart fell to his feet like an anchor, he could feel his stomach twisting and his eyes burning. He knew what those words meant. Then he thought of Ivy and that snapped him out of his daze, he had to get there, now.

Jamie pulled into his driveway safely this night, parking beside his parents car, a sigh escaping his lips, forcing the terrible memories from two and a half years ago away. He gathered his bags, and lugged them inside, smiling at his family all asleep in the living room. That made him forget that oh so familiar ache in his chest just a little bit more. He put his bags in the corner, those could wait, but right now all he needed was to hold his baby girl. He scooped Ivy up, smiling as she fluttered her eyes open just enough to see him. “Daddy.” She murmured, “hi bug.” He inhaled the scent of her toddler shampoo, his mom always taking care of her hair the best, brushing the detangler through the unruly hair she got from her father. “Sleep with you.” Ivy whined when he started heading for her room, normally he didn’t give in, not wanting her to be dependent on him to sleep, but he needed her tonight too. “Just tonight princess.” He gave in, bringing her to his room with him, where she fell asleep instantly when he placed her on the plush bed.

Jamie laid awake, staring at the ceiling for a little while, thinking of how he would tell Ivy about having to move. “I hope you’re proud of me.” He whispered out, his tears staying pooled in his eyes as he forced himself to calm down. “Sleep daddy.” Ivy complained, nuzzling closer to him. “Hold me.”

“Jamie.” Cora whispered, hoping he was awake despite the late hour, he grunted in response, being a light sleeper ever since he found out Cora was pregnant. “Hold me.” She demanded with a light tone, her back aching and stomach bulging as Ivy kicked around in there. Jamie blindly opened his arms for her, letting her settle into his chest. “Always.” He murmured, already half asleep as she sighed in content.

“Come here baby girl.” Jamie murmured at Ivy, letting her rest her head upon his chest, Ivy was a very cuddly little girl, the second she was comfortable with you, she’d be sitting in your lap and telling you stories and anything to be touching you. It was one of Jamie’s favorite things, especially when he came home from a roadie and all she wanted was to be held by him.

***

“Daddy!” Ivy called, she managed to climb onto the bathroom counter to brush her teeth but now she was too scared to get down, “daddy!” She shrieked again, Jamie’s eyes fluttered open as he quickly took in his surroundings, “daddy, I stuck!” Ivy called, this time sounding annoyed by his lack of response. He threw the blanket off as he knew where she was stuck, this was a common occurrence. He appeared in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, “and just what do you think you’re doing?” Jamie asked his daughter as she made grabby hands for him, she grinned brightly at him, “I brushed my teeth!” She answered in a duh tone, she grabbed his face once he scooped her up, kissing the tip of his nose, and he the same to her, “I’m very happy you brushed your teeth, Ivy, but you know you’re not supposed to get on the counter, that’s why we got you a stool, remember?” He explained, for easily the tenth time in the past month. “I know.” She huffed, dramatically pushing her hair back, making Jamie chuckle as he walked down the stairs, hearing his parents talking in the kitchen.

“Well, good morning sleepy heads.” Alison teased as Ivy gasped at the sight of pancakes on the counter, Jamie shook his head with a smile, placing her on the seat beside his dad, “I’ll make you a special plate.” Richard quipped to the little girl, which really just meant drawing a smiley face on it with whip cream. “Thanks mom.” Jamie gave his mom a kiss on the cheek before shuffling around to get his coffee, desperately needing the sleep kicked out of his system. “When are you going to tell her?” Alison asked, taking a small bite of her food, giving her son the side eye when he hesitated. “Today.” He gave in, knowing he absolutely had to start packing now, otherwise it would never be done in time. “So, Ivy, do you have any plans for today?” Alison shifted her attention to her granddaughter, figuring they could take her out to do something so he could get more done. “Gonna go see momma!” She cheered, some syrup smeared around her mouth.

Jamie froze, it was Saturday already, he checked his phone and felt humiliated that he had forgotten his promise to take Ivy to the cemetery. Evidently the panic was written across his face when both his parents stared at him. “Why don’t grandma and I bring you? We haven’t been there in a while.” Richard offered, rubbing Ivy’s back when she looked to Jamie for permission. “I think that would be nice, right baby?” Jamie finally found his voice, and Ivy nodded brightly, anytime she got with her grandparents was cherished. “Daddy coming to?” She asked, tilting her head as he sipped on his coffee, “I’ve got some work to do, alright, I’ll go next time.” He assured her, shooting his dad a thankful look as he quickly changed the subject before she could pester on any further.

“Ivy, I need to talk to you.” Jamie announced, he couldn’t wait any longer, he had to do it and be done. Alison nearly choked on her coffee and Richard looked at his empty plate like it was suddenly the most interesting thing. Ivy nodded, munching away on her pancakes, not understanding the severity of what was about to be said.

Jamie cleared his throat and pulled out the chair beside her, “you know how I had to go away to this new place for work, yeah?” He reminded her, “Seattle.” He said, and she nodded, “Seattle.” She repeated, not entirely perfect but good enough. “I got a job over there.” He spoke, waiting to see what she thought. “Hockey?” She asked, confusion lacing her tone. “Yes, still hockey.” Jamie chuckled softly, “it’s with a new team.” He paused, glancing away for a second, “we have to move there.” He concluded. Ivy nodded slowly, “new house?” She asked, she might be young, but she knew that moving meant not in this house. “Yeah, new house, new city, new people.” Jamie explained, panicking when she went wide eyed, “what about uncle Ro-Ro?” Ivy asked, referring to Miro, she was closest to the young defenseman as she always saw him beside her dad on the ice. The nickname had been dubbed upon him when she was learning to speak and liked to repeat things. “We can visit, baby.” Jamie spoke softly, heart breaking as she began to sniffle. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, he knew the realization was coming. “But Momma!” She sobbed.

And that completely shattered his heart.

“I know.” He picked her up, feeling her sob into his neck, “momma.” She whimpered, though she didn’t remember her, Jamie made sure to keep her an important part of her life. Ivy didn’t know that she loved going to a gravestone that much until this moment. “Hey, look at me, bug.” Jamie demanded gently, situating her to be in front of him. He sat her on the countertop and stood in front of her, “momma will always be with us, right? Isn’t that what I always say?” He explained to her. Ivy nodded slowly, she was so young but always acting older, trying to wrap her head around this. “Yeah.” She mumbled sheepishly, cheeks red and eyes puffy, she felt shy under the gaze of her grandparents. “It’s alright, daddy’s sad too.” He assured her, lowering his head to be eye level with her. She stared into his eyes, reminding him so much of Cora in that moment, and once again she kissed the tip of his nose. “No sad daddy.” She demanded, drumming her fingers on his cheek. He pecked her forehead, “alright baby.” He agreed, if she could do it, so could he, right?

***

Ivy slept the whole plane ride, which is what Jamie was hoping for as they would be meeting the moving truck at the new house, plenty of things to be done asap.

“Come on Ivy.” Jamie mumbled, carrying her off the plane as she groggily woke up, looking around slightly confused until she remembered what was going on today. “Daddy, Seattle?” She asked, lifting her head from his shoulder, he chuckled, lowering her so she wasn’t so high up on his chest. “Yeah, Seattle baby.” He assured her, her pigtails bouncing as she looked around rapidly. He smiled at her reaction to the airport alone.

“What do you think, Ivy?” Jamie asked, raising his eyebrows as the three year old spun to face him. “Love it!” She squealed, her room was twice as big in this place than her bedroom in Dallas, and Jamie told her she could pick whatever color (within reason) to have her walls painted. Of course she would love it here. Jamie looked around their new-but-empty-house one more time, sighing as he could picture Ivy growing older in this house.

Time to make it a home.

“Hi.” Ivy grinned up at one of the movers as he placed a stack of boxes in her room, Jamie just being outside the door heard her speaking, he raised an eyebrow waiting to hear the guy speak. “Hello.” The young guy spoke sweetly, chuckling at the little girl. “I’m three.” She spoke, “how old are you?” She asked, Jamie held in a snicker as he walked in. “Ivy, leave him alone, bug.” He laughed softly, the guy taking it as his excuse to go get more boxes. “Ugh.” She huffed, flopping down on her bed dramatically, Jamie rolled his eyes, looking around. “What color do you want?” He asked the opinionated little girl, he sat beside her, smiling as she stood next to him, being eye level with him. “Hmm, purple!” She gasped, looking around the currently beige room, Jamie nodded slowly, “light purple.” He countered, knowing she would want to choose the darkest shade. “Fine.” She giggled, “we can go tomorrow, alright? Today we need to focus on finding all your stuff.” He tickled her sides.

***

Ivy was tugging on Jamie’s hand, somehow spotting the paint section quicker than he could. “Slow down!” He laughed heartily, his daughter shooting him a glare as he purposely slowed his feet down. He hoisted Ivy up to see the purple swatches along the top row, she reached for a dark one, just like Jamie knew she would. He sighed, “Ivy, we agreed on light purple, what about this one?” He offered, grabbing a lavender type color, she grunted in disgust, shaking her head dramatically, her blonde curls hitting his face. “Love this one.” She pouted, holding it in front of his face.

Jamie held in a sigh as you walked past him, stopping to look at paint swatches as well. “What about this one?” Jamie compromised, it was darker than he wanted to go, but still light enough to not feel like a dungeon. Ivy’s lip began to quiver, quickly catching both Jamie and the woman’s attention. “Ivy.” Jamie sighed softly, you intervened, “you know, I wanted a dark purple room when I was your age too.” You spoke to Ivy, catching her attention as she lifted her head, Jamie shifting slightly, giving you a smile. “My dad wouldn’t let me do it.” You made a face, getting a giggle out of Ivy, “he was right though, but guess what we compromised?” You mused, holding your hand out for the paint swatches that Jamie had. He handed them over with ease, “we painted one wall, dark, the wall I had my bed on, and the rest we did light.” You explained, Jamie giving Ivy a bright smile when she looked at him like it was the greatest idea ever. “We can do that, Ivy.” He agreed, and you giggled, “glad I could be of help.” You added.

“Thank you,” Jamie paused, waiting for a name. “Y/N.” You told him, smiling at the pair, “and your name is?” You asked, already figuring the little girl's name was Ivy. “Jamie.” He introduced himself. “What are you painting?” Ivy asked boldly, not one to talk much around new people, Jamie set her down so she could look at other colors, amused by her sudden interest. “I’m painting my dining room.” You answered, squatting down to her level, “do you have any color suggestions?” You asked Ivy. Jamie gave you a look that said you really don’t have to entertain her but you just gave him a smile. “Yellow.” Ivy announced, looking at the wall and grabbing actually, a very nice swatch, it was just yellow enough. You tilted your head as you looked at it, imagining it in your space. “That’s a very pretty color, Ivy.” You told her, smiling brightly as she blushed, handing you the color sample. “Thank you, Y/N.” She spoke politely, even though the words didn’t come out perfectly, it was a great attempt. “You’re welcome.” You stood to your full height, shocking Jamie by walking over to the counter to order the paint, no hesitation that a random little girl picked it out.

“You don’t have to-“ Jamie started to say, but you shrugged, giving him a happy smile, “I just got a new place, a fresh start, yellow seems fitting.” You told him. Jamie gave you a lopsided smile, if only you knew he was doing the same. “Daddy, this ones.” Ivy gasped, giving him two swatches, he chuckled at her grammar, squatting down to her level, “you’re sure?” He asked, he knew after all it was just paint, and if it turned out so terrible, they could paint over it but he didn’t want to have to do this twice. “This one looks like momma's dress!” Ivy explained, Jamie looked at the dark purple in his hand, instantly remembering Cora in that dress, Ivy’s favorite picture of her that she kept in her room. Suddenly her color choice made sense, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop, your heart stopping at Jamie’s next words. “Yeah, I think momma would have loved this.”

Was she… dead? You tried to knock the thought from your head, they were so young, but you knew accidents happened. You quickly looked away as Jamie stood back up, “here you go ma’am.” The teenager behind the counter spoke, you took the gallon from him, shooting him a smile. “Have a good day.” You told him, offering Jamie and Ivy a wave. “Will I see you again?” Ivy asked, Jamie nearly had heart failure right there as you stopped and giggled. “Oh I don’t know sweetheart, Seattle is a really big city. But don’t you worry, if I ever see you out and about I’ll be sure to say hello.” You assured her, watching as she got all giddy and slightly hid behind her father again. “Bye.” You told him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling any wider. “Bye, Y/N.” He mumbled, seeming a little dazed as he made his way up to the counter.

***

It had been nearly a week in the new house, the walls were done, almost everything was unpacked and they were starting to feel a sense of normalcy. Jamie loved the neighborhood they ended up in, a true mix of all different people, yes their house was rather large, but it was still homey. The community was sprawling, having a little bit of everything, stand alone homes, townhomes, even some condos, there were plenty of kids around which made him feel good about his choice as he followed Ivy down the road as she rode her bike. “Slow down, Ivy.” Jamie cautioned as she was getting a good bit ahead of him, she huffed dramatically and slowed down, waiting for him to catch up. She was looking around at the houses, confused as to why they were attached, even though Jamie had explained it to her plenty of times. Ivy gasped so loudly, that you could hear it from your front lawn where you were spray painting a piece of furniture. You glanced over and did a double take.

There was absolutely no way, you refused to believe you were actually seeing this, then you saw Jamie and you were convinced the universe either loved you for letting you see him again, or hated you, as you were in ratty old painting clothes.

“Ivy!” You grinned, laughing when the little girl flew off her bike, letting it fall sideways, making Jamie groan, “hi Y/N!” She squealed running up your lawn. You smiled brightly as she hugged your leg, “Ivy.” Jamie called, giving you an apologetic smile but you shrugged it off. “Did you paint your room?” You asked the little girl as she pulled away, a pink tint to her cheeks, she nodded, her blonde curls bouncing in her ponytail. “Yay, that’s great!” You cheered, Jamie walked up behind her, “hi, Y/N. How are you?” He asked, his daughter leaning back against his legs as you two spoke. “Good, been busy making this place my own.” You laughed, motioning to the small townhome behind you. It was your first solo place, and you absolutely adored it, even if it needed some work. “Yeah, you always forget how much work it is moving into a new place.” He agreed, chuckling softly. “Did you do yellow?” Ivy asked, rocking on her feet. “I did.” You assured her, “would you two like to go in and see it?” You asked, cringing internally as you waited to look up at Jamie. “Sure.” He answered, grabbing his daughter's hand, following you inside.

You led them to the dining room, giggling as Ivy gasped, “so pretty!” She cheered, the yellow paid off, it made the space feel much more happy. “All because of you.” You told her, she asked if she could look at the pictures you had sitting on the entry table and you gave her a quick nod, giving you and Jamie a chance to talk. “Same neighborhood? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were stalking me.” You teased him lightly, getting a hearty chuckle out of him. “It is quite the coincidence.” He agreed, he felt butterflies in his stomach for the first time since he had met Cora.

It absolutely terrified him.

***

It had been a few weeks since that day, and you’d seen Ivy outside playing with another woman, Jamie not to be seen. You came out to grab your mail as she went riding by, “hi, Y/N!” She called, continuing to pedal away. “Hi, Ivy.” You spoke, you went over and introduced yourself to the girl, Taylor, finding out she was her babysitter. “Jamie must go out pretty often.” You commented to her, she shook her head, “oh no, he never goes anywhere without Ivy aside from work.” Taylor told you, “he plays hockey, I'm surprised you didn’t know that.” Taylor added, smiling as Ivy came up to the two of you. “We should be going, it’s almost dinner time.” Taylor spoke, she couldn’t be older than 20. You gave them both a smile, “yes! You don’t want to miss that.” You chuckled, bidding them a goodbye before going inside and googling Jamie.

What you found shocked you.

Jamie Oleksiak taking personal time to mourn loss of fiancé.

Jamie Oleksiak, will he be able to balance a professional career and a baby?

Will he bounce back from this?

You clicked the first article, bracing yourself as it loaded.

The date was from almost three years ago, you scrolled down and began to read…

Jamie Oleksiak has announced the sudden passing of his fiancé, Cora Hadley. Together they shared a daughter Ivy, who was also involved in the incident, she is expected to make a complete recovery.

A close friend tells us it was a severe car accident.

Our condolences to the family.

You clicked away from the article as tears burned your eyes. That was terrible. You read some of the other articles and only grew mad at how the reporters belittled his pain, only talking of how poorly his game play had been since then. And though you’d never wish that kind of loss on anyone, you know they wouldn’t be writing like that if they had felt it.

***

You and Jamie exchanged numbers, citing that it was for “neighborhood emergencies” you giggled at the thought as he was currently asking you what he should get Cora for the upcoming Christmas.

She’s the pickiest three year old ever, everyone always tells me that.

Well, what does the pickiest three year old ever like to do?

She’s either riding her bike and getting absolutely filthy or she’s inside playing dress up and being a little princess

Princess car?

They make those?!?

Oh, Jamie, I really need to take you shopping 🤦‍♀️

Tell me when and I’ll be there…

You tell me hot shot, you’re the one that plays hockey for a living.

How did you find out?

Google is a powerful thing… just kidding, Taylor told me.

Of course she did

Saturday afternoon? My parents will be in town and they want to take Ivy out for the day, so it’s a perfect excuse.

You know where I live, see you then!

He started typing, but then the dots went away and you never received another message.

You brushed it off, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in years as you thought of merely shopping with Jamie for Christmas.

****

“You like him!” Your friend gushed to you as you spoke on the phone while getting ready, “no!” You rushed, only proving her point more. “Y/N, really.” Your friend, Amanda, spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with that, he’s clearly attractive and he’s a dad! He’s not going to be a jerk that just messed around with girls! It’s great.” She rambled, you sighed, pulling your jeans on with a little jump, “his fiancé died, Amanda. He could very well not be over that yet, and I wouldn’t blame him.” You explained, she went silent, “well you left that part out, how was I supposed to know.” She mumbled sheepishly. “It was almost three years ago, their baby was only six months old.” You whispered, cursing when your doorbell rang down the stairs. “Shit, shit, I have to go Amanda!” You rushed, hanging up as soon as she said bye. You adjusted the sweater you had on as you rushed down the stairs, careful not to fall flat on your face. You grabbed your purse as you walked past the counter, yelping as you stumbled and landed on your butt. So close.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Jamie called, hearing the thud, “yes, yeah, just a second.” You called out, wincing as you stood up, that was definitely going to hurt later. You finally, finally reached the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and giving him a bright smile. “Did you fall?” He asked instantly, bursting into laughter when your face went blank. “We’re not going to talk about that Jamie.” You chastised, stepping onto your little porch to leave with him. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, giving you a once over as you locked the door. “Is Ivy excited to be with your parents today?” You asked him, Jamie laughed under his breath, “so excited, she didn’t even care that I was going out.” He told you as he opened the passenger side door of his truck for you. “Thanks.” You mumbled as you slid in, your heart pounding in your chest. He shut the door and made his way around the truck as you adjusted in the seat.

“So, where to?”

****

Jamie was shocked and grimacing at the price of the princess car that he and you both knew Ivy would love. “Is she the type to give up on new toys quickly?” You asked, tilting your head as you both stared at the display, he shook his head as gave in. He had been leaning against the shelves and as he walked away you noticed his phone had fallen out of his pocket, you picked it up so no one would steal it as you waited for him to come back with a cart, and hopefully someone to help him with the box because it was not something you’d be much help with. His phone began to ring in your hand, the contact flashing across the top said mom, you let it ring, you’d tell him as soon as he came back. As soon as it stopped it was ringing again, you panicked and swiped to answer it, worried that something had happened to Ivy. “Hello?” You spoke into the phone, hearing Ivy wailing in the background. Fuck.

“Who is this?” His mother rushed, “I’m Y/N, Jamie forgot his phone he’s walking around the store– is everything alright?” You asked, cutting straight to the point, “no, we’re going to the emergency room, Ivy fell at the park and I think she broke her arm.” His mother rushed, and thankfully you saw Jamie approaching, “Jamie!” You shouted, rushing over, he furrowed his eyebrows seeing you on his phone.

“It’s your mom.” You rushed, giving it to him and you could see the wheels turning in his head as he listened to her speak over Ivy crying. “Shit, alright I’ll meet you there.” He told her, shooting you an apologetic look. “Go.” You assured him, he shook his head grabbing your hand and pulling you along, he wasn’t going to leave you stranded in a department store. “Sorry, he’ll purchase it another day!” You called to the employee who had a blank look on his face. “Let me talk to Ivy.” Jamie demanded after his mom had said something else, “daddy, it hurts!” Ivy got out between cries as his mother held the phone to her ear. “I know, princess. I’ll be there soon alright? I promise.” He assured her, finally releasing your hand as he realized he’d been holding it this whole time.

He managed to get off the phone so he could drive to the hospital, repeatedly apologizing for you being stuck with him and that this happened. “I was going to take you to lunch and ugh I’m just sorry.” You raised an eyebrow at his ramblings as you guys got stuck at a red light less than a mile from the hospital. “Jamie, stop apologizing. She’s your daughter, she always comes first, that’s how it’s supposed to be.” You soothed him, he glanced over at you, nodding softly, “reschedule the lunch?” He asked, despite the panic in his head, he still wanted to make sure you saw that he was interested in you.

“Yeah, we can reschedule, let’s just go see your baby.” You leaned over the center console, kissing his cheek as the light changed, doing a little happy dance in your head at how he blushed deeply at your actions.

“Family only.” The nurse remarked as you were about to follow Jamie to the room Ivy was in. He gave her an incredulous look, “it’s fine, go.” You assured him, pulling away from him to stay in the waiting room. He hesitated but went along, disappearing behind the doors as you picked a seat in the corner, making sure you had a sight line to the doors he went through. Over an hour went by as you sat there, scrolling through your phone, not hearing from Jamie, which you assumed was because he was being bombarded with questions of the girl who answered his phone, while also dealing with Ivy who was not going to enjoy the process of getting a cast.

Your phone chimed with a text just as you had finally decided to get off of it,

Finishing up now, sorry if my parents are a lot

You chuckled at the message, making sure you had all your items, including the little stuffy you’d bought at the hospital gift shop during your time sitting here. You stood up as you saw them walking out, Ivy draped over Jamie’s chest, half asleep with her head on his shoulder. “Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you.” His mom spoke, offering her hand, you repeated the sentiment, as well as with his dad. “Ivy.” You whispered, placing a hand on her back, holding the small stuffed animal in your hand, “I got you a little gift for being such a big brave girl.” You mumbled, she shifted to look at you with her puffy eyes, and pout settled deep on her lips, “thanks.” She whispered, taking it and holding it close to her chest, she kept her eyes on you as you walked behind Jamie, keeping up a conversation with his parents. And he was right, they were kind of a lot, but you pushed through, smiling when Ivy finally fell asleep in the car.

You sat in the back with Ivy, Jamie insisting you didn’t have to but you wanted to. “She handled it pretty well.” Jamie commented as he glanced back to see her asleep with her hand in yours. “She’s a tough little thing.” You agreed, glancing over at him, he gave you a heartwarming smile. “Thanks for coming with me today, I know it didn’t go to plan, but it was nice, you know… before she broke her arm.” He trailed off, pulling into your driveway to drop you off. You carefully pulled your hand from Ivy’s, she didn’t budge as she was exhausted from today.

Jamie got out to say goodbye, surprising you with a quick kiss to the cheek and a promise of that lunch date.

***

“Did some research?” You asked teasingly as Jamie took you to your favorite restaurant, you gave him a sideways glance as he parked the truck, “I may have had some assistance.” He shrugged, making you realize that’s why Ivy was grilling you the other day, when you had offered to watch her since Taylor was unavailable. “You two are trouble.” You quipped, watching him slip out wordlessly before opening your door for you. “But I’m a gentleman.” He reminded you, “a very good one at that.” You agreed, steadying yourself with his shoulders when you hoped down. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He declared, had you not wanted to kiss him so badly you would have teased him for the nervousness in his voice, but you simply looped your arms around his neck and let him sweep you off your feet with a wonderful first kiss.

The first of many.

***

Two months, and many, many, sneaky dates and stolen kisses later…

You were over at Jamie’s house, having dinner with him and Ivy, you and Jamie had gone out here and there, but most of your time was spent together with Ivy, and that’s what told him that you were the girl he needed to hang on to. Jamie wanted to take tonight to explain to Ivy that you two were dating, but he was scared, petrified even, that she would become upset and confused. You kept telling him nothing had to be done yet if he wasn’t ready, but he was, he swore he was.

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked Ivy, dinner was long gone and you were playing a game of twenty questions, she wasn’t entirely aware of that but she was having fun nonetheless. “Purple! Like my mommas.” She declared, you gave her a smile, glancing over at Jamie to see how he handled it. Many conversations had happened between you two about the loss of Cora, you never wanted to rush him, and as he only gave Ivy a proud smile, you could tell he was truly ready to start the next chapter of his life again. You liked to think Cora was proud of him, for choosing you to be in their life.

“What’s yours?” Ivy countered back, giving you an inquisitive look, the closer she got to age four, the more like Jamie she seemed, and it always made you chuckle. “Yellow.” You told her, watching as she grinned, Jamie winked at you as you turned sheepish under their gaze. “Because of me?” Ivy gasped. “Yes, because of you.” You giggled, welcoming her hug when she bounced over to you. “Ivy, do you know what it means when people are dating?” Jamie asked his daughter as she stayed seated on your lap, she rested her elbows on the table, holding her head in her hands. “No but you said I’m not allowed to do that.” She spoke in a serious tone, sending you into a hysterical fit of laughter, not expecting her to be so blunt. Jamie tried not to but he joined you with a deep laugh, tipping his head back as Ivy grew impatient. “Ok, besides that.” Jamie cleared his throat, “when I say I’m dating someone that means that I really really like them and I want them to be part of our life.” He explained as best he could, you smiled from behind her at his words. Encouraging him to go on.

“Y/N and I are dating.” He spoke officially, you both held your breath as you waited for her reaction, she turned and looked at you, and then back to her dad. “You love her!” Ivy grinned, sending Jamie wide eyed and you into a wide smile as he blushed, “you love my daddy!” Ivy gasped turning to you, now he was the one grinning as you opened and closed your mouth trying to find the words to say. You gave her a nod, “well, it’s a bit more complicated than that when you’re our age, but yes.” You agreed with her, Jamie grabbed your hand from across the table, giving it a squeeze as Ivy climbed off your lap and started dancing around.

This had gone so much better than he had hoped.

When he was tucking her in that night while you were waiting for him on the couch, she said a few words that made him one hundred percent sure that everything was going the way it should, and that Cora even played a hand in this. “Can I have two favorite colors daddy?” Ivy asked, looking up at him sleepily as he pulled the blanket up her body, she was clinging to the stuffy you’d bought her. “Of course, bug.” He assured her, thinking that was that, but as he kissed her forehead she said, “purple and yellow are my favorites.” By the time he pulled his head back, her eyes were shut and her breathing was evening out. “Yeah, I think those are my favorites too.” He whispered.

Taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @hockeyunits

#Jamie Oleksiak fic #Jamie Oleksiak #Jamie Oleksiak imagine #Seattle kraken #nhl imagine

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emile-hides · 3 years ago

Text

Crybaby imagines

I can’t find any BNHA X Reader blogs with their requests open, so heck it. Make the content you want to see in the world.

MHA Blonde boys react to reader crying (for various reasons)

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

1-A is an amazing bunch

It sort of just all hit you like a truck, really

How much 1-A had grown, how much they’d overcame

You’re not even entirely sure what sparked the thought process

But once it stared, you couldn’t stop

You were just so?? Proud??? Amazed???

Suddenly you were crying at your desk in the teacher’s lounge

Quiet, heavy tears

Your co-workers took notice, but it was Toshinori who approched your first asking what was wrong

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying

When you get into the why he’s all ears

He sits next to you and is soon joining in on the kid’s progress

He talks mostly about Bakugo and Midoriya, you go on about Asui and Koda

It turns to laughing and quietly bullying the kids for a moment as you two enjoy some of the sillier memories

Soon Toshinori, too, has tears in his eyes

He sobs more than you did

He’s just so proud of these kids!!

You feel like an old married couple talking about their 30-something kids living far from home

Kind of silly considering they’re all 15 and currently in class right down the hall

You two have to go see them during lunch break

Present Mic

Crying in Solidarity

You stood with Hizashi in front of a grave of a kid you never knew on an overcast day

He’d normally make a comment about the weather matching the mood but...

Not now

His fists were clenched, and though his smile stood strong and his glasses hid his eyes

They couldn’t catch his tears

You held his hand in silence and pretended not to notice the falling of his facade

It happens very seldom

He was shaking, you could hear his breath hitch hard despite his attempts to remain calm

You didn’t know this Shirokumo kid, you’d never met him, you couldn’t pick him out in a crowd if you had to

You didn’t even know who he was to Hizashi

But you knew it tore him up inside that he was buried here

You knew he kept his emotions well contained for everything else but him

You pulled Hizashi a bit closer, letting him lean onto you as tears began to run down your cheeks

The two of you stood in silence and cried on this, an overcast day

The weather really did match your mood.

Fatgum

Crying in relief

The hospital door opened with a loud slam

You didn’t really mean to slam it so hard but now wasn’t the time to go apologizing to inanimate objects for being a little rough

Your voice shrilled even louder than the door the name of the patient laying on the bed in the center of the room

Taishiro looked up with a face of ‘Oh shit’ which was the correct face to have

You were mad for all of the time it took to yell about how worried you were

FIRST OF ALL he didn’t even call to tell you he was in the hospital, you got that information from Tamaki

Second, you barely even know what HAPPENED to land him here

And THIRD,

Nope. Anger’s gone. Evaporated like a puddle in mid July.

Taishiro had sat up in his bed with a nervous smile, peppering in the nicknames and speaking in the gentle voice as he reached out to console you

Just seeing him sit up, his arms bandaged lightly around the wrist

It all just came crashing in

He was fine.

Tears over flowed as you cried a bit louder than you had yelled previously

Hiccuping and gasping out how worried you were and how mad you still wanted to be

Taishiro just laughed an apology as he hugged you, thankful for your concern

He promised to call next time

You found yourself yelling at him to never do this again

Aoyama

Crying on command

Acting was something you had mastered

More or less anyway

You dove head first into a role and you were damn good at it

But everyone has weaknesses

You’d locked yourself in Aoyama’s room, going over lines and choreography for some little play in the park you two had signed up for

Now you sat on his floor as he painted your nails, glaring daggers into the script

You had to cry.

It seemed so easy. Think of something sad and cry over it on stage. Simply.

and yet your eyes remained dry, your stage make-up perfect

Aoyama had been couching you, weeping all sorts of tears for your amusment

It wasn’t helping

You turned your glare to Aoyama, who was completely enthralled in drawing tiny art pieces into your nails

God he was bright

....bright.....

You looked directly up at the light on the ceiling and stared

Your eyes wide you forced yourself not to blink

It hurts

And it worked

You looked back to Aoyama with tears streaming down your face and searing pain in your retina

He applauded your dedication

Ojiro

It’s all just a lot

You weren’t really sure when it all became so much

But everything you’d been working at and training for suddenly weighed more than you could bare

You found yourself in the middle of the UA empty halls, flat on the ground on your stomach

Tripping was the breaking point

The straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say

You just started sobbing

When you heard footsteps coming you just kind of... wiggled out of the way

Pressing yourself to the wall you just continued to cry to yourself, curled in a ball, expecting the other person to just pass you by

Instead a soft white handkerchief gently pressed to your cheek, followed by a quiet “Are you okay?”

You were not okay.

Ojiro sat himself beside you as you wiped your face, continuing to sob

You didn’t offer an explanation, he didn’t ask for one

He sat in the hall quietly with you, his tail giving the occasional swish to brush your cheek of tears

The silence gave to time to catch your breath, and realize class probably started a long time ago

When you got up to be on your way, he joined you

He didn’t offer to walk you where you needed to go, he simply did

His quiet wave, his silent smile, his patient glances at you

It all made everything feel just a bit lighter

The next time you’d see Ojiro in the halls, he’d smile at you

And he’d be delighted if you could smile back

Kaminari

Crying from shock

It was just a little zap to the hip, a little bee sting

He’d been doing it to everyone in class, learned it from some stupid tiktok

When it was your turn to get stung, you let out the loudest yelp in the class

He laughed at first, proudly proclaiming how he’d gotten you

Until you whipped to him with fury in your eyes, along with tears

His panicked “Shit, wait, I’m sorry” fell on deaf ears as you quickly gave him a return jab in the hip

Without the actual shock part it probably wasn’t as painful

So you did it a few more times for good measure

Then he jabbed you again

And it was on

Jabs to the hip turned to jabs to the gut, armpit, neck, even right dead center in his chest

You were both in pain and sure to be covered in bruises when Iida finally separated you two

It was hard to see with the tears swelling in both your eyes

But when Denki made direct eye contact with you before giving a glance to Iida, you knew

You nodded, an evil smirk crossing your face

The two of you took your index and middle fingers, driving them quickly and roughly into the class rep’s hips simultaneously

His yelp had the entire class laughing

It then also had the entire class in study hall for the rest of break

Bakugo

He’s just kind of a dick

Standing outside of class 1-A you felt as though your heart was beating in your throat

When the door opened you jumped out of your skin as a green haired boy came out at full speed

He managed to stop on a dime before slamming into you though

You choked out the courage to ask him if Katsuki Bakugo was in class

The kid before you stared in shock before turning around and calling for a “Kacchan”, telling him someone was here to see him

You glanced in the door and watched as several people pried the man you wanted to see from his seat, shoving him forcefully to the door

They all then slammed the door behind him, keeping the green haired kid who seemed in a rush to leave trapped inside

He barked a what at you that made you reconsider all your choices

Still. You swallowed all your courage, and said what you came here to say.

You confessed your feelings to Bakugo, bravely.

He stared at you with a face of utter confusion, and it managed to catch you a bit off guard

He looked like he didn’t know how to respond

Which he, of course, didn’t.

So he responded the only way he really knows how

Anger.

“WHO THE HELL EVEN ARE YOU?!”

He called you some background extra. What gave you even the slightest though he’d want to be with some nobody he didn’t even know the name of

Within seconds of his screaming the 1-A doors slammed open yet again

The group who’d peeled Bakugo from his seat before jumped from the room and began wrestling him into submission, berating him for his treatment of you

But you were inclined to agree with him

You told them it was fine. He was right, you were just some nobody

You couldn’t stop your voice from shaking, tears streaming from your eyes as you gripped tightly at your shirt

Not knowing really what else to do, you turned and ran away

It was well over a few hours later, and you were still crying alone in the court yard

You flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching you. You closed your eyes and planned to make a run for it somewhere else to avoid bothering anyone

“Hey, dumbass,” a hand placed on your forehead, pulling you back to lean on the person behind you, “You could do a lot better than an ass like me.”

You glanced at Bakugo, who was looking far into the distance, his ears red

You cried and apologized. He didn’t say much else, but his hand remained on you, keeping you in place

You found yourself invited out more, running around with Bakugo and his friends, being rowdy and dumb as teens should be

Your crush on Katsuki Bakugo soon became a distant memory as he grew to be one of your closest friends

Honenuki

Yawning

You flopped dramatically onto the common room couch and let out the loudest, most drawn out sigh you could muster

This act of pure drama drew the attention of Juzo Honenuki, who simply chuckled at your antics

You stretched like a cat across the couch, reaching for him lazily with one hand, you swatted at the book he’d been comfortably reading

He gave another chuckle and inquired what you were after

You answered with an equally dramatic and drawn out yawn, bringing tears to your eyes as you again stretched to him

You then closed your eyes and snuggled into a couch pillow

Honenuki’s hand stretched across the couches and found itself on your head, giving gentle pets back and forth

Once he found himself a good stopping point, Honenuki put his bookmark in place and snapped the book closed

He gave a stretch and a yawn before encouraging you to your feet

You lazily tangled your arms around one of his and draped yourself over him

The two of you walked to your separate dorm rooms arm in arm, occasionally letting out more and more exasperated yawns and sleepy giggles

Monoma

Crying from pain

This was... probably your fault?

You remembered running into Awase from class 1-B while going a bit too fast though the halls

Next thing you knew you were in front of him, on your ass, staring up at him upside down

It took a minute for the pain to register, but as soon as it did tears stung your eyes

You couldn’t even really say anything as Awase’s eyes filled with panic when he’d realized what he’d done, quickly dropping your arm and stepping back, probably planning to make a run for it

The is until his blond classmate came up behind him, pressuring him to apologize in a loud, negging tone

When Awase again avoided your eyes, opting to shove his hands in his pockets as he glared at the wall, Monoma dropped to his knees and offered you assistance

The question of “Do you need to go to the nurse?” was accompanied with a handkerchief dabbed at your eyes

Monoma helped you to your feet, apologizing for his classmate, assuring you you were fine and didn’t need to report this to a teacher because you were clearly fine look at you you’re fine

I mean you weren’t bleeding so... Yeah? You were fine.

He sounded like he’d be the one in trouble if you told someone about Awase self defense flipping you over his shoulder

When he offered again to walk you to the nurse, you declined

He was right, you were fine, just a bit sore

You wiped the tears from your eyes and thanked him for his concern as you walked passed him

You also apologized to Awase for bumping into him, though he just huffed a response

You didn’t get very far when you heard quick steps following close behind

Monoma was just checking in to make sure you for sure weren’t going to tell anyone class 1-B’s Awase threw you like a rag doll

He also just figured while he was here he’d ask if there was anything he could do to make up for this incident

Like... buy you lunch sometime.... Or take you out to a nice cafe he knows after school... maybe...?

He just. Didn’t want you to think class B does hit and runs like this on all the pretty students

Mirio

Crying from laughing

Your sides hurt

You gripped onto yourself as you leaned onto Mirio, cackling harder than you had in a while

He was retelling some jokes he’d gone over with Sir Nighteye at his internship today, regaling you, Tamaki, and Nejire with perfect one-liners and horrid puns

You all were laughing far too hard for this late at night

Tears pricked your eyes as you slapped at Mirio’s leg, gasping for breath you begged for a time out

You have the most contagious laugh, Mirio was positive his jokes only ever landed because you laughed at them so easily

When you finally caught your breath you sat up, rubbing giggly tears from your eyes

You gave a glance around the room and found Tamaki doing the same, though his tears were from the yawn he’d just given

All three of you watched Tamaki adorably shifts as he rubbed the tired from his eyes, something he flushed over when he’d finally noticed the attention

Nejire declared that meant bedtime and hopped from her seated position, pulling Tamaki along with her

In a matter of moments she was dragging the tired boy out of the room to their own dorms

You and Mirio chuckled at her antics before you too got up to get going

Mirio offered to walk you to your dorm, which wasn’t far down the hall, but he made such a show of it how could you say no?

Of course he spent the whole walk telling even more terrible jokes that continued to crack you up

By the time you’d gotten to your dorm you were so giggly you couldn’t see straight

Mirio waved as he turned and walked the 5 feet back to his own room

He then turned around and waved again, claiming he already misses you

You giggled at him and returned to your own room

He loved your laugh.

#Emile's Arts #BNHA X Reader #MHA X Reader #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #Present Mic #Hizashi Yamada #Yuga Aoyama #Mashirao Ojiro #Denki Kaminari #Katsuki Bakugo #Juzo Honenuki #Neito Monoma #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum #Fat Gum #I was going to do Toga as well #But all it was going to be was crying over Magne cause that's my mood so #I'll write toga another time #BE THE CONTENT YOU WISH TO SEE IN THE TAG #I say that #and if I actually followed that I would write nothing but Monoma content all the time #and Inasa I should write more for Inasa #80% of these can also be seen as platonic because I didn't feel like doing much else #I apologize openly for Bakugo I was thinking of something highly specific #Also please know a good half of these with the students are General Studies Reader #or support course student reader #Because I didn't feel like thinking too hard about hero course reader #I am in a sit on the ground and cry for no reason mood tonight and so that is the content I create #Please enjoy. Send requests if you want to. I dunno man this is 99% for me

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years ago

Text

Lifespan • Mason Mount

Warning: mention of death, other than that I hope you like it x

When you started to think that something was wrong, that you were different from everyone else, you were afraid. Whenever you were on the verge of talking to someone about it, you simply couldn't; the fear of being seen as crazy or not being believed was always in the forefront of your mind.

It all started when you turned twenty-one, before that you had never had a chance to believe that something was wrong with you. Your sister had just become a mother and everyone in the family was so happy with the new arrival, including you, that you went to see them with your hands full of presents as soon as you could.

That little bundle was so small and defenceless, in his cradle carefree and ready to live all the life he had ahead of him. You took him in your arms, careful not to be too rough, cuddling him for a while, captivated by that little miracle and swearing to yourself that you would do anything to be an example to him.

Something shiny on his leg had caught your attention, a series of numbers running backwards like a countdown had you raising an eyebrow in confusion. 89:54:12...11...10...09... you had brushed it tentatively but nothing happened.

"You're all right (Y/N)? Is something wrong?" the new mother had asked, seeing you focused on looking at her son's skin and knowing how you were always looking for the smallest details.

Looking up at your sister and back down at the little leg, it was all gone. Just as it had appeared it was gone and you shake your head, "Nah don't worry about it. I'm just still in shock from this beauty"

Over the next few days that episode buzzed around in your head annoyingly, you were curious wanting to find out what it was but at the same time it scared you. What if it was a curse rather than a good thing? Several times you had gone back to visit your nephew and each time the number was different, lower. And you found you could only see it once a day, the sign disappearing just as it appeared. At its own pace. You could only see it on the side of the left leg, it was hard to see when covered up and you couldn't see it on yourself.

That thought now took up all your spare time, you had even researched it on the internet but had not been very lucky. You had found out what it was at your own expense.

You had errands to run that day and got up early, it was a nice day and you thought you'd leave the car in the garage and go for a nice walk. You look down at your phone as you wait for the pedestrian light to turn green and as you do so you realise your shoe is untied. You lean down to fix it and a sparkle draws your attention to your right, a little girl apparently alone with a backpack bigger than her on her shoulders is waiting beside you. 00:00:06 is written on her leg.

The light turns green and lots of people start walking quickly before getting stuck in the red light again. You hurry walking but when people start shouting to be careful you instinctively grab that little girl by her backpack pulling her to you avoiding an accident, a truck that didn't even stop.

"Thank you, ma'am"

"Oh my god are you alright?" you murmur shocked walking the child to the other side of the pavement safely as she nods and then goes on her way, you following her with your eyes. Until she collapses to the ground and you swear your heart skipped a beat as your legs start running towards her, 00:00:00 in red on her leg.

Mason immediately notices something is wrong with you as soon as he opens the door, your expression blank and your face almost colourless. He immediately wraps you in a hug closing the door gently and your grip tightens when he would like to pull away to look you in the eye.

"What's going on (Y/N)?" he asks worriedly, stroking your hair as you shake your head, you held on as you tried to resuscitate that little girl in vain; as they loaded her into the ambulance with the sheet on her tiny body and even as you answered the police's questions. And you're literally exhausted, tears start to roll down your cheeks as Mason forces you to look at him, laying his hands on your cheeks gently but firmly. "You're worrying me"

"There was an accident today" you murmur with a broken voice and he takes a step back to look at you entirely and make sure with his eyes that nothing is out of place. He pulls you to his chest again as he tries to get you to move towards the couch.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks softly not wanting to push you, you sit by his side leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. Your tongue goes to stop a tear that is falling down powerfully at that moment.

"There was a little girl" you tremble at the mere memory, "she was maybe twelve. And we were... there was a red light and then we crossed and she was alive"

"Oh babe" he sighs stroking your back, watching you shake your head.

"No Mase, she was alive on the other side of the road. Then... then she fell to the ground and-" a sob shakes your body as he looks at you helplessly.

"I knew it"

"What? Babe it was a random accident, you couldn't have known"

"I knew it Mason! I knew something was going to happen but I thought that having saved her from the truck she was going to be saved and instead..."

"What are you saying (Y/N)?"

"Mason, I'm losing my mind" you look at him genuinely scared and he wastes no time in wrapping you around himself again. "You just went through a traumatic event, it's normal for you to feel upset honey"

"No I- I need to tell you something" you sit up properly not breaking eye contact, watching him swallow but waiting for you to continue. And you tell him everything from the beginning trying to be as accurate as possible, from the birth of your nephew to the shiny writing on his leg; the research and testing to find out more and more every day, to that day when you really realised what it was by learning that you can't change fate.

"What's the point if I can't do anything to change it?" is the first thing you ask to a silent Mason, trying to absorb that strong informations all at once. And you can't blame him if he doesn't want to believe you, I mean it's kind of surreal, isn't it?

"You can see the date of people's deaths?"

"Apparently. But please call it a person's lifespan instead" he nods, his hand touching your knee to make you feel his presence and his thumb stroking you gently.

"Wow all this is just... wow. I wonder if there are more of you out there"

"You believe me?" you're on the verge of tears again as he smiles softly.

"Why wouldn't I, you have magic" he manages to make you laugh in spite of everything, a tear escaping your control but you promptly wipe it away.

"How does it work? Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, "I don't feel anything, just this light which is then replaced by numbers... I should have realised sooner" your gaze ending on Mason's legs who is thankfully wearing long trousers, no more numbers for today.

He follows your gaze, "Have you seen mine?" the question pops up and you quickly shake your head closing your eyes. "I can't see it if you've got it covered and I don't want to please"

"No hey it's okay, it's okay" slowly he pulls you with him until you're lying on the couch, you sigh settling yourself better in his arms focusing on his beating heart and nothing more.

"Have you tried searching on the internet?" you nod, "Yeah but I haven't found that much"

"Yeah but maybe now that you know what it's for you can look more properly"

"Some other time. I can't do it now"

"We'll do it together when you want to" he leaves a kiss on your temple as you give him a first sweet smile after all those tears.

Having someone to share all this with turned out to be a godsend. Just as he had said, since the accident Mason had been with you through everything and you had almost moved in with him.

You would have liked to say that you had learned to live with it, but the truth was that since that day you had been so afraid it might happen again that you no longer looked down. Mason had researched it for you, urging you to try this and that, sometimes much more excited about discovering new things about it than you were. But at the same time he'd also given you your space to decide how to deal with it all and you'd simply decided not to deal with it; not being able to do anything to avoid the inevitable had stopped you from studying how to live with it.

Your phone vibrates and Mason's name appears on the screen after a moment, your smile disappearing little by little as you accept the call. Hearing his voice calms you a little, but that doesn't mean you don't feel your heart in your throat when he tells you that he's in the hospital and that he and Declan were in an accident.

He needs you and you don't think twice about getting in the car and driving to him, phone to your ear as your eyes work further than your legs to try and find him as quickly as possible. And when you do, the relief is so intense that you hold him tightly to you as he groans slightly.

"How are you? Declan?"

"Just a few scratches. He was unconscious when they took him away" Mason sits back in the chair and you at his side stroking his back as you let him run through what happened with his mind, holding him in your arms when he breaks down just like he did to you when you needed him.

"(Y/N) I need you to do something for me" you don't need to make him continue any further to understand what's going through his head.

"No Mason" you shake your head seriously, "don't make me do that"

"Please (Y/N), I need to know" he murmurs looking into your eyes.

"Why? Even if it was you couldn't do anything so why would you want to know?"

"I'd like to make sure he's going to be okay and because I could be around if him..." his breath dies in his throat at the very thought.

"I can't" and you try to stop him as he shakes his head walking away to get some air, putting a glass divider between you and him.

Your gaze drifts from him to the door where nurses come in and out, your leg shaking rhythmically. You don't want to be the one to tell him that news, it would destroy him. But then why does it have to be bad news? Yeah, but what if it is?

You look at Mason one last time before getting up, your mind not even registering what you ask the nurse in the hallway; her sweet smile leading you past the room you seek.

"I'll only stay a couple of minutes, thank you very much" the nurse walks away and you watch your friend from a distance, still undecided as to whether that's the right thing to do. Silently you step into the room moving closer until you're beside the bed, Declan has a few scratches on his face and an injured shoulder at first glance but the fact that he's been unconscious for so long doesn't give the doctors the green light to dismiss him at the moment.

His legs are covered by a sheet and for a moment you think it's a sign. Your hand freezing in mid-air on the first try. And then the glow starting to appear even from under the sheet, your hand moving on its own to uncover his leg and your eyes closing at that light more brightly than usual. Your heartbeat the only thing you can hear for a moment until you open your eyes. A few tears escape your control as you pull the sheet down as if you got burned, your hand going to cover your mouth as you hurry out of that room.

"Oh (Y/N) what have you done?" you almost clash with Mason and he's quick to wrap his arms around you as you try to pull yourself together. When he hadn't seen you where he'd left you once he'd gotten back, he'd known immediately and the guilt had hit him hard.

He shouldn't have asked you, not knowing the emotional effort you have to put into all that. Declan was going to be fine and even though his fate may be another, knowing that beforehand wouldn't have changed anything; he'd be by his friend's side no matter what and putting you in that position...

"It's okay, I had to do it. If I can't use it to calm those I love, then when?"

"So...?"

"I can't know what's next for him but Declan still has a long life ahead of him" despite everything it's a relief to hear and the boy cheers slightly, his gaze inevitably shifting to his bed visible from outside.

And maybe that's what it's used for, knowing to be able to spend most of our time with someone we love; no regrets.

"Go to him" Mason leaves a kiss on your lips before going to sit next to his friend. A solid 62:03:20 runs down his leg.

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #declan rice #my writing #original #football imagine #football imagines #football one shot

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whump-town · 3 years ago

Text

Stubborn

Everybody taking care of old Hotch because... I don't like it when old Hotch gets left to just die on his own :( don't ask why that's where I draw the line

No pairings

No warnings

In Jack’s second semester of his junior year, Hotch collapses again. He’s home this time, out in his garden under the glaring sun. The day had begun no different than any other. The birds on the powerline chirping and causing their disturbances, as eager for the day to begin as the school-aged children shouting in the street. He’d watched them from the sliding glass door facing the street, his tea warm in his hands. He’d waved at a few, the older ones who recognize him as a mystifying adult with stories to be unlocked. The younger children give him a face akin to a monster’s, his mystery horrifying in their already confusing enough lives.

It’s an hour before lunch. Two hours before Spencer shows up because it’s Thursday and he teaches a class on this side of town every Tuesday and Thursday at 2. One that he occasionally asks Hotch to attend -- as a guest lecturer, as a treat to his students, or just for the company.

He could call just about anyone.

Emily’s downtown, on her way back from a meeting with the Department of Justice. She’d be thrilled for an excuse to not go back to the office and spend an hour or two in his kitchen telling him about those pretentious assholes.

Garcia’s about ten minutes away, working at a nonprofit teaching “at-risk” kids how to code. Being the guiding hand she’d needed as a teenager so that they might not repeat the same mistakes she made. She was lucky, Hotch saved her but he’s not around to catch any more kids like her.

Morgan got hired by a family two streets over to fix up their house before they move in. He’s there now, tearing out rotting beams.

This collapse is not of the life-threatening kind. Not to Hotch at least. There’s no internal bleeding, no emergency surgeries. He doesn’t even need stitches but he’s on so many medications that thin his blood that it’s just on the safer side. From the hospital, he calls who he needs to. Reid first, he’ll worry when he gets to Hotch’s house and sees his truck gone. Then, Jack, it’s better to hear this sort of thing from him and not Emily in half an hour when she needs to yell at someone and who better than the son of the idiot she hates right now? Dave and Emily follow and he trusts them to carry the news the rest of the way. Rather, he simply doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and he’d rather Garcia and JJ and Morgan and everyone else just be mad at him than go on to have another conversation about how he’s feeling.

Fine. He just got light-headed. It was the heat and his perpetually low iron and probably his thin blood (the killer had been his blood pressure but they’re working on that). He just needs to get better about remembering to eat breakfast -- a larger breakfast than just tea and toast. Fainting, he assures Dave, happens. Jack’s seen it happen. The heat makes it worse, the summertime drains him. He’s come in from the garden and gotten weak in the knees plenty of times. He actually moved some chairs around the sliding glass door to the yard, prepared for this exact problem.

This over clarification does not help.

Made only the more complicated when he explains his head is fine. The fainting thing really isn’t a big deal, he just needs a ride home. He’d landed weirdly and pulled his back. He left with a new problem entirely, a torn ligament in his shoulder. That is a problem for a different day.

The surgery is set for the week just before Jack’s finals. Armed with a suitcase full of textbooks, his laptop, notes from this semester (and a few from last), and just enough clothes to recycle a few and still be fine, Jack shows up on his father’s doorstep. “I mean, the hospital isn’t exactly the library… but it’s not the worst place I’ve studied.” It’s far too late to send Jack back but Hotch is reluctant to let him stay. Even if he does prefer Jack be his ride rather than the likes of Penelope and that tiny green eye-sore of a car she drives or leave him to Reid and his defensive, jerky driving.

To the sound of “Aaron Hotchner November 2, 1971”, Jack settles down with his books. He tries to put himself in the right headspace for studying but it’s harder than he anticipated. The constant motion of the room unsettles him and he looks up several times to see his father’s reaction. To gauge the anxiety in his face, in the deep breathes that he pulls in through his nose. In how tight his fists are holding the sheets underneath him. It’s a simple surgery and they’ll be out of here in no time.

“Young” his heart had not handled the heavy sedatives and morphine well. Then again, those incidents are always hard to measure against a thing like this. Rushed into the ER with nine chest wounds and having nearly bled to death, it’s natural to conclude the stress of his depleted blood supply and his very recent trauma had caused his heart to stop on the table. That said trauma was the reason his heart had maintained to be a steady problem up until they released him. Again, when he was brought in with some of the worst internal bleedings the staff had ever seen. His heart had given them trouble too.

Jack is staring blankly at his flashcards when the doctor comes out.

Hotch had gone to Georgetown to be a lawyer like his father and his grandfather. Jack went to Georgetown to get an Art History degree. He was lead by something else. Not chasing some shadow, clutching at a lie he spoonfed himself. Jack didn’t live in anyone’s shadow, never felt the pressure to look and act a certain way. Was never beaten into submission or told to hold his tongue. Jack went to museums every Saturday with his father, preferred them to the aquariums and the zoo. Hotch held him close to the artwork, pushed his dense schedule around to go to new shows, and learned the names of pieces just to recite the knowledge back to Jack.

In his lap, Jack is memorizing pieces of art like his father had years ago for him. He’s stuck on The Anatomy Lesson, eyes glued to the details. The way colorless skin is held in forceps, peeled back to reveal angry red. He can feel the pinching teeth on his own skin, feels the heavy flow of hot blood spilling down over his arm.

“Hotchner?”

Jack flinches, caught completely off guard. He stands, flushing as he tucks his notecards into his textbook, and stands. “Ugh, yeah. That’s me.” He wipes his hands off on his pants, rubbing away the nervous sweat he’s built up.

The doctor recognizes him from earlier. He’d watched Jack and Hotch get out one last goodbye. Jack pulling up a nervous smile, dirty-blonde hair, and light eyes a complete contrast to Hotch’s ever-darkening features. Somehow more solemn, voice taken by the sedatives already working through his body. He hadn’t said a word, eyes vacantly following Jack’s movements but unaware.

Jack expects the same monologue he hears every time. The one that comes out so dry and perfect that they must practice it in front of the mirror, say it softly to themselves as they as they get ready each morning. He’s got it memorized himself -- the bits about recovering in post-op, make a full recovery, and whatever on the fly timeline they give for access back to the room.

“But he’s-- He’s okay? He’s--”

Jack feels impossibly childish. Five years old and Emily’s chilled fingers brushing his tears away, “baby, I know you miss your mommy. But you’re being so terribly mean to your daddy.” He had been, a terrible little monster squirming away from his father and refusing to eat anything. Throwing tantrums about nothing and everything. Screaming and crawling under his bed every chance he got. Pushing himself to the wall knowing he couldn’t be reached.

Now he can remember Hotch just sitting at the edge of the bed. There on the floor for hours. Sometimes he read, would pick up a book, and just start from wherever just to make it so his voice was reaching where he couldn’t. He slept there too, on the hard ground just to make sure Jack knew he was there. Slipped strawberry pop tarts on crazily designed animal plated under there, offered bites of his own food to the darkness under the bed. Sippy cups full of chocolate milk and juice.

He feels like a little boy again, getting news that he has no idea how to handle.

“He’s okay?” Jack stammers. “He’s going to be okay? I can see him?”

Hotch remembers those days under the bed too. Waking up in the middle of the night as Jack groggily curled close to him, still under the bed but crawling under his blanket. The ends of those awful sobs, Jack’s little chest jerking as he hiccuped. The force of his sorrow was too much for his little body. And Jack would fall into his lap, exhausted and needing comfort. His little fingers tracing the scars on Hotch’s face. How he whispered “thank you” and “please” from underneath the bed and how he’d pop his head out to say, “Daddy, I’m going to potty. I’ll be right back.”

Jack’s legally old enough to drink now and Hotch still sees that little boy. The three-year-old wiping his snot on Hotch’s dress shirt. The six-year-old holding his hand and reminding him to look both ways twice before crossing the street. The eight-year-old he left the hallway light on for, old enough now to think he needed to brave the night without a nightlight. So Hotch would offer to keep the hallway light on, not for Jack but for him because he doesn’t like the dark. The ten-year-old sheepishly offering him a father’s day gift he bought with saved allowance, a t-shirt he’s now worn the words off of. The fifteen-year-old curling up beside him on the couch, seeking his comfort but not sure how to ask anymore. The eighteen-year-old as tall as him talking his ear off while he tries to get dinner ready, sticking his fingers in the pan and sitting on the counter.

How did he grow up so fast?

He’s not a little boy anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.

The creaking of a chair moves Hotch’s attention and he looks away from Jack. Away from the sight of his little boy curled up on a cot, drooling onto a pillow and notebook still open, a pen dangling from his fingers. He looks over and Emily’s sitting up, her reading glasses precariously sat on the tip of her nose. “Oh look,” she mumbles. She stretches out, groaning as her joints complain from being held in this miserable hospital chair for hours. “You’ve decided to join the land of the living.”

Hotch watches her fold the thin black frames of her glasses up, gently sits them down by his hand as she stands up. Jack had called her, even though he promised he wouldn’t worry anyone. Hotch didn’t want anyone else coming to the hospital over something so small and though Jack protested that their concern wouldn’t be because he was bothering them but because they love him. The very same reason he’d come home is that people gather after these sorts of things. They need reassurance that he’s alive and he’s just going to have to accept that. They compromised in the end, everyone could come to smother him in worry after he got home from the surgery.

But Jack was scared. He called the only person he could think to, the woman whose role in his life that was never really clear. She’d gotten on him about his grades, smacked the back of his head when he said something stupid, and always let him taste-test her wine at Thanksgiving dinner. Emily knew things that not even Jessica knew and she could be sterner than both Hotch and Jessica and also more relaxed, more understanding. She was always there for both of them, in the same capacity as Jessica and yet her own unique one. A friend Hotch trusted and loved and Jack could understand that. His friends always wanted to know if they were dating and he knew intuitively that the answer was no but he would hesitate to try and explain. But he didn’t understand the gravity that pulled them together, adults and their relationships far too complex to fit it into his simple understanding of love.

He did understand she was the only person to call.

“What’d he do this time?” she asked and knew she was playing the wrong role for the wrong Hotchner because no sooner than she could ask she had an armful of Jack. She sat with Jack for hours, let him get his fear out. Held him while he sobbed, felt pulled to the past. When it was Aaron on her shoulder, terrified he’d lose his son. Life has this very odd way of bringing everything full circle.

“I bet you’re hurting.” Emily moves to the table and pours water into the little paper Dixie cup left by the nurses. “Been right dramatic this afternoon,” she informs him, a dissatisfied matter-of-fact tone in play. “I know you find that to be particularly taxing.” She holds the cup for him, gentle despite her annoyance. She’s close enough to see the iodine on his skin. Dark orange swipes across his pale skin, the smell burns with its strength.

He pulls greedily from the cup, mouth impossibly dry. Stopped only by how little she poured, he sinks back heavily into the pillows behind him. His shoulder hot and angry from forcing himself upright.

“They’re going to let you go in the morning,” she says, sitting back down. He won’t remember this in the morning. Emily holding his hand, whispering thickly how angry she is with him as tears fall down her face. How scared she was getting that phone call from Jack, racing down here to be a composed person to comfort his son thinking her best friend was in the morgue.

He’ll wake up with a pit in his stomach, residual feelings from the night before he can’t tie down to memories. Emily shows no inclination to repeat herself, just coldly informs him that she’ll have Penelope make him a cardiologist appointment (it’s unspoken that no one trusts him to do this himself). Jack walks on glass, close by but terrified of being pushed away. Hotch is too out of it to put up much of a fight, by the time the morning shift has their hands on him he’s silent. Properly dosed up for a ride home and out of his mind.

He’s groggily propped up on pillows, watching Jack and Emily fight over if he has the right to wear shoes or not. Emily wants to hold them captive, he won’t run off or refuse the wheelchair without them and Jack shakes his head, “he’s not our P.O.W, Emily. He’s even going to get that far if he does try to run.” He’s given his shoes but Emily makes a point to collect his cane, holds it while the nurse helps him into the wheelchair. He’s a flight-risk and she’s not going to trust him, he’s run off on her too many times for that.

At the house the other’s have gathered up, having nothing better to do evidently on a Wednesday at ten in the morning. Penelope’s frying eggs and bacon, the carnage it takes to feed their brood spread out on his kitchen counter. Reid sitting on the counter, Hank in his lap, and the two of them watching Penelope. Derek’s on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Savannah learning on his shoulder. Dave’s getting orange juice from the store declared them all lawless, and didn’t trust them to get the right kind.

Hotch is granted his cane to get back inside the house but Emily threatens to kick it out from underneath if he tries anything fast. He smacks her ankle and Jack has to actually step between them to keep them apart. It’s in times like these where Jack finds himself wondering how these two ever had any role in raising him at all.

“Don’t you have jobs?” Hotch asks, hooking his cane over the coat rack and toeing his shoes off. He ignores the hand Emily places on his arm, afraid he’ll knock himself over. He manages just fine, has the whole house set up so that every other step is within arms distance of something to lean on. Fingers trailing the back of the couch he limps past Derek, smiling when Savannah offers a soft “glad you’re okay”. She pats his hand and he nods back.

“Up for some food, sir?” Penelope asks and she’s not taking no for an answer. They might be having heaping servings of eggs and bacon and gravy and orange juice but she’s made two small bowls of oatmeal. She takes the medicine Jack tosses up on the counter, puts it at the end where the rest of his medication sits. “I cut up apples,” she tells Hotch with a wide grin, sliding the bowl in front of him. “Dashed a little cinnamon and sugar in there, it’ll stick to your bones. Keep you healthy.”

He’s at a healthy weight at the moment, not as thin as he leans to when he’s sick but with Hotch, it’s always a good thing to have some collateral weight for the “in case”. Lifting the spoon in his left hand he scoops some of the oatmeal up, doing his best to hide his annoyance at how weak his extremities still are. How his hand shakes under the light strain of the oatmeal. He looks up, watches Spencer carry Hank over to the highchair sitting at the table beside him. He’s distracted so Emily swoops in, takes his spoon from his hand, and tries his oatmeal. He lets her do it. He raises an eyebrow and she shrugs. She likes it. He nods, it’s pretty good.

Hank immediately knocks his spoon on the ground and makes a low whining sound in the back of his throat. “Hop help,” he whines, pointing down at his spoon. His speech is still developing so he pronounces help and hop nearly identically but Hotch understands the difference. He just can’t bend over like that. His right arm is still pinned to his chest in an intricate web of gauze and this sling.

“Reid,” Hotch calls. His voice is deep, strained from intubation and anesthesia. It makes him sound sick. “He’s dropped his spoon.”

Reid nods, he already knows.

Hank points to his shoulder and frowns, “Hop fall down?”

Hotch nods, that is pretty much what happened and at the same time, Emily sweeps in and tickles Hank. She presses kisses to his face and making him laugh loudly. “That’s what happens,” she says. “Hops is just old.” Hank is too distracted by the ongoing attack to defend Hotch not that a toddler rising to his defense is very helpful.

Hotch sighs as Jack comes up behind him, stealing his spoon too. He takes a bite of the oatmeal and deems it nearly as good as the kind that Jessica makes. Hotch wants to be annoyed by it and yet all he does is nod and finds himself smirking just a little.

Penelope calls everyone in for breakfast and Hotch ignores the kisses pressed to his cheek as people drag chairs to the table around him. To the hands that slide over his back, assurance of life he remembers Jack calling it.

Derek slides him a mug of tea, made exactly how he likes it. He sits across from Hotch, close to Hank in case either needs assistance. Emily sits to his left, slides her coffee up beside his tea so he can have some if he’s quick about it. Jack sits beside her and the rest is a blur, too much motion at once for him to take in without his contacts or glasses. Penelope slides a tea plate to him, his medicine on it, and kisses his head while he’s still scowling at the plate.

They don’t leave him alone all day.

He ends up taking a nap with Hank, the toddler’s sticky little fingers holding onto his shirt as he finds himself unable to fight off the effects of the medicine and his full stomach.

He’s squished on the couch between Derek and Dave, forced to watch baseball because he can’t worm his way upright again just yet.

They change the dressings on his shoulder, his teeth clenched tightly so that he doesn’t let anything slip.

At midnight he wakes up on the couch. Jack’s bedroom door is shut, he’s sleeping peacefully inside. His heating blanket is pulled up to his chin, the heat turned up all the way. He can’t remember getting into this state himself but he has a fate memory of JJ helping him move his hand to his mouth, encouraging him to take the pain killers before bed. Of Derek making sure he didn’t just fall straight over onto his side. He manages to find Dave stretched out on the Lazyboy -- the chair he got Hotch for his fifty-something birthday. He’ll wake up in the morning to more food being made in his lonely kitchen, JJ this time. She’ll make blueberry waffles.

If he’d wanted attention, Emily will tease the next morning, he could have just asked. And he didn’t even know he wanted this. He never finds the words to ask for it to continue but every Saturday morning it happens anyway -- his kitchen and living room full of pajamas and suits in varying degrees depending on who has what to do that morning. The fainting thing is not cool but he considers this to be a good trade.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #savannah hayes #hank morgan #jack hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jennifer jareau

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 3 years ago

Text

Big, Ugly SOB

Warning: same as part one. Walking Dead themes, smut, angst, slowburn.

Part Two

“We gotta find that kid.” He states as they slip into the woods. He twists her shoulder and slams her against a tree, his big hand covering her mouth as he listens for something rustling in the bushes a few yards away. Pressing his hard body against hers, he slowly looks around the tree to see Sophia running towards them. Stepping away from Lottie, a chill running over her at the absence of heat and lust, he reaches out and grabs Sophia’s arm.

“Ssh, darlin’. You and Lottie are gonna go back to the group, okay? And then you’re gonna tell me where Rick is. Is he back that way?” He asks, pointing where she’d come from. She points and Shane disappears, pointing up the hill.

“C’mon hunny. Let’s get you back.” Lottie coos, taking her up the hill and leading her back to Carol. “I gotta go back for Shane.” She coos, waving to Carol before jogging back into the woods.

It’s almost dark when Shane and Rick return, getting into their cars for the night. As Shane heads to the Jeep, he gets there to see it’s empty.

“Hey, where’s Lottie?” He asks softly, looking to the rest of the group.

“She went back into the woods hours ago looking for you.” Carol waves to where Lottie went back into the woods.

“She did what? She hasn’t been back since?” Shane’s heart slams in his chest as he prepares himself for the worse. Rick’s comforting hand rests on Shane’s shoulder.

“Shane. We trained for this. She was second to you in that training. If anyone’s gonna survive out there it’s her.” He assures, patting his shoulder.

“Oh, so a little girl runs off and we search, but Lottie heads back in there and we’re just supposed to wait it out?” He bellows, looking at the group who looks back at him.

“Shane, she’ll be back anytime.” He coos.

“What if-sh-sh-she doesn’t man?” He asks, eyes scanning the blackness of trees in front of him.

“She will for you, buddy.” Rick chuckles.

“I hope so.” He whispers, nervously running his fingers through his hair and scrubbing his hands on his jeans.

Sleep doesn’t come for Shane Walsh as he sits in the Jeep in the dark. As morning comes, light dances through the trees and he hears the crunch of soft steps just inside the treeline. Heart jamming in his chest, he jumps from the Jeep and sprints into the trees.

“Lottie!” He hushes in a whispered shout. Stumbling from her spot behind a tree, she tumbles into the familiar voice and lets his arms wrap around her. “Holy shit.” He coos, hugging her so tight she almost can’t breathe.

“Shane, you waited.” She whispers, exhaustion on her lips.

“Always.” He coos, more to himself than to her and he helps her back to camp. “You’re okay.” He whispers, his hands gripping into her shirt as he whispers to himself.

“Walsh, get off me.” She chuckles, tiredly trying to push him away. He takes a step back, seeing the weird looks from people around camp. Cheeks flaming red, he helps her into his Jeep before he disappears for a moment. Returning, they start up and head to the Center for Disease Control. It takes almost all day, and when they finally get there it seems to be a dead end.

“The camera, it moved.”

“Rick, c’mon man. Don’t do this. Let’s head for Fort Benning.” Shane tries to reason, but it isn’t soon enough and a group of walkers start towards them.

“Finally.” Rick hushes as the door opens. The group heads in and greets the CDC dweller, Doctor Edward Jenner.

Standing from the table, she finishes her wine and heads to take a shower. Undressing and finding the hot water, she steps into the shower, feeling the scalding hot water flow down and over her body. Heaving a sigh, she takes time to scrub her entire body clean, reveling in the warmth and cleansing that she hadn’t had in months. A heavy knock sounds and then the door opens, clicking closed a second later.

“Walsh, I can hear you.” She calls. The shower curtain gripped in his hand, he shakes off his clothes haphazardly before he climbs in with the bottle of rum in the other hand. “Christ Walsh, what are you doing?” She asks, pushing his away gently. Drunken hands find her bare body as he puts down the bottle. “Walsh.” She states firmly, but she shutters when his lips attach to her neck his hands sliding up her sides as his tongue flicks out to lap at her throat. Groaning against his shoulder, she presses a kiss to his forehead as he sinks shakily to his knees, lapping at her core. Her hands tangle in his dark curls, gripping tightly as his calloused hands knead her upper thighs. Rising to his feet, his lips are on her neck once more, his hands feeling up her ribs and holding her back against him. Putting a foot up on the ledge in the shower, Shane helps her into his arms where he slides his throbbing cock into her without a second thought. Filling her with himself, he gently bounces her on his cock, thrusting up sloppily to meet her hips. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he holds her against the shower wall, rocking into her with sloppy, drunken thrusts.

Butterflies fill her stomach as it turns with anticipation, her orgasm coiling in her stomach as he thrusts faster and harder up into her.

“Shane-Shane. Fuck.” She gasps, fingers twisting into the curls at the nape of neck, gasping into his ear before biting down on his shoulder to stifle the scream of euphoria as she orgasms onto his thick cock. Slipping her off him and onto her knees, she immediately takes his throbbing cock into her mouth and suckling on him, feeling hot ribbons of seed shoot down her throat. Shane draws her to her feet and holds her against him a moment longer before kissing her forehead.

“I love you, Lori.” He coos before getting out. Tears fill her eyes and she chokes on a sob before escaping the bathroom and sprinting to the room she’d offered to share with Walsh. Jumping into bed, she covers up quick and pretends to be asleep by the time Shane stumbles into the room.

“Hey, Duke. You mind if I lay with you?” He mutters with his back to her. “Duke?” He turns this time to face her to find her tucked totally under the covers. Climbing into her bed, he curls up next to her, tucking her under his arm and pulling her against him. His other hand smooths her cheek as she softly snores. He sucks in a quick breath and holds in, playing back the events from the days before.

There she was, coming out of the woods like an enchantress.

He couldn’t describe the feeling that filled him when he saw her.

When she grabbed him in a hug, he felt like he was no longer drowning.

When he’d found out that she left to go after him he thought it might end his world. He felt his heart break. But, when she’d reappeared the next morning like an enchantress of the forest once more, his world was full of color again. He felt his heart shift into gear, as though it had stopped when he couldn’t be with her.

Earlier, in the shower. As he thought more about it, he felt his heart twinge.

“I love you, lori.” He whispered to himself and felt the bile rise in his throat. Springing from the bed and dashing to the toilet, he proceeds to get rid of his dinner and alcohol.

Lottie rises from her bed, shaking away the sleep and crouching next to Shane. He sits on the floor, hands quaking, body overheating, and mind racing.

“Lottie, I’m sorry-”

“Shut it, Walsh.” She nips, rubbing a soothing, cool hand over his back.

“Lottie, what I said in the--”

“Shut up, Walsh.” She growls, pushing him away and rising to her feet. A hand reaches for her foot but she kicks him away and gets into bed.

“Lottie I’m sorry!” He calls, and for a moment, she could almost hear the tears in his throat.

“Walsh. Leave it alone.” She responds, rolling over and falling asleep. When she wakes to the sound of an alarm blaring, she jumps out of her own skin; grabbing for her bag, she finds it gone. Walsh’s things were gone too. Rushing out into the hall as she pulls on her boots, she hears Walsh shouting.

“.…No! Shane! Shane! This is not the way, brother!” Rick’s voice of reason echoes.

“You open this goddamn door! I swear to god I’ll shoot you!” Shane’s angry voice screams.

“Walsh! Chill out!” She calls, grabbing his shoulders and making him face her. His dark, black orbs soften on her.

“The door. It’s locked, Duke. We can’t get out. Doc Jackass says the air is gonna combust. And we’re all gonna die painless. Lottie, we can’t go out like this. Babygirl, we can’t.” He coos, grabbing her hands and kissing her knuckles. Tugging her hands from his, she draws away from him. “Open the goddamn door!” Shane yells, raising a fist at the doctor.

“This is the best I can do, but all the doors upside are locked down. You can’t get out.”

“Let us try, Doc.” Rick crows. The group runs out the door, Lottie jogging at the back, making sure both kids are there. A moment of thought, she turns back to Jackie and Andrea and they seem at peace. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go out like this. She thinks, her feet stopping her. The group takes a corner and once out of sight, she turns and nods, jogging back into the computer room to sit with Andrea. Dale stays behind, begging Andrea to come with him.

Shane makes it the lobby, firing a shot gun into the glass window, nothing.

“Rick! I found this in your pants when I was washing them. It might help.” Carol calls, drawing a grenade from her pocket.

“I don’t think a nail file’s gonna do it, Carol.” Shane calls without ever turning around. He only thinks about how he would get him and Lottie out of this mess so he could apologize. He hadn’t realized it until last night, until he was throwing up drunk, that he was in love with her.

“Yes!” Rick cheers, and it gets Shane’s attention. He turns and scans the group quickly and when his eyes don’t find his female officer companion, he chokes audibly.

“Where’s Lottie?” His voice is almost nothing as he speaks. Heart drumming in his ears as he desperately searches for her. “Lottie?” He calls, voice wavering as he heaves for breath, as if he’d been hit by a truck.

“Shane, she went back.” Lori whispers, looking at the top of Carl’s head.

“She-she-she wouldn’t. She was right behind us.” He stammers, pacing back and forth scrounging the faces among him for hers.

“Shane. She’s not here.” His breath hitches as he gasps, grasping at his chest.

“Goddamn it!” He sprints back down the hall without another thought, ignoring Rick and Lori calling for him, Carl screaming his name. He hears the explosion in the distance but doesn’t turn around. He gets into the computer room and his eyes lock on her. “Charlotte Duke! Get over here!” He shouts, jamming a finger to the floor.

“I’m staying, Shane. Go, before time runs out.” She calls matter-of-factly, her smile greeting his horrified expression. He stumbles to her, reaching out with quaking hands to grab her face.

“Don’t do this, Duke. P-please.” He stammers, thumb quaking against her face as he chews bottom lip to keep it from quivering anymore. Leaning forward, she presses their foreheads together for a moment and presses a kiss to his lips, gentle and soft.

“Shane. It’s painless. In seconds I’m gone. I won’t be a walker, or-or a failure. I’ll be gone. Nothing.” A tear trips down his cheek and he grabs her arms and draws her over his shoulder.

“You’re everything to someone, okay? I can’t let you do that. I won’t have your blood on my hands.” He barks as he carries her kicking and screaming down the halls, her fists beating tirelessly on his back.

“Shane Dawson Walsh! Put me down! This isn’t your choice!” She shrieks, shoving to get away. Tripping him, he tumbles and she gets away, sprinting down the hall again. Walsh comes outta nowhere, grabbing her and pile driving her into a wall.

“Quit fighting me.” He growls under his breath, heaving for air.

“No.” She pushes at him as he tosses her out the window, following after her.

“I don’t expect a thank you, Duke.” He huffs as she runs away from him. As she gets to the motorhome, Shane close behind, he starts to say something; but she draws back a fist and slams it into his jaw, knocking him backwards. Staggering back, he catches his footing and storms towards her.

“Why in the holiest of fucks would I thank you, Walsh? I was ready to go, ready to be done with this ugly, mad shit world and you can’t leave me be. You gotta keep saving me. Let it be, Walsh. I can’t stand you. You in love with Lori? Be in love, but quit dragging me along like I’m some goddamn trophy!” She shrieks, fists relentlessly pounding into his chest. “Even after you got into my shower and had sex with me, you said ‘I love you L-’” He claps a hand over her mouth to shut her up.

“I said I was sorry. Okay? I was slurring my words and I was drunk. Alright? I’m goddamn sorry.”

“That was my first time, Walsh. So please excuse me if I seem to not want to be best friends with you.”

“Do you even know why I went back in for you?” He asks, reaching for a hand.

“Because I’m in love with you! Okay? From the first day you came through those goddamn woods like some kind of fairy, I was gone. I couldn’t think of anything but you. I’d take every ngiht watch I could because I never wanted a single bad thing to happen to you. When you stupidly ran back into those woods after me, and I thought I lost you, I didn’t sleep all night. When I saw you again, it-it’s like I could finally breathe again. I didn’t even know it then, but I was in love with you. When I turned back at the lobby and I didn’t see you, I knew in that moment I would walk back and sit with you, even if you didn’t leave. I would die with you, because I can’t stand the thought of being without you now. When you find someone in this ugly world, you hold onto ‘em because they’re all you got! I’d kill anyone and anything to keep you safe. It wouldn’t matter the president or walker alike, I’d kill ‘em to keep you alive. Do you understand me? I fuckin’ love you.” He breathes, staring at her so intently, biting his bottom lip and clenching his fists at his sides.

“You big ugly son-of-a-bitch. I love you.” She sighs, jumping into his arms and pressing a passionate kiss to his lips.

#Shane Walsh #Shane Walsh x reader #shanewalsh #the walking dead #walking dead #shane walsh smut #shane walsh angst #jon bernthal #jon bernthal twd #jon bernthal is too goddamn good at acting.

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saintprinsessa · 4 years ago

Text

Feeling You: Wanda x Fem!reader

Summary: You were in the middle of a war zone, the Avengers had found Hydra’s base and planned on attacking them by surprise, but the plans didn´t go as initially thought.

You saw how Wanda was in danger and you just went to help her.

Even if it cost you everything.

Trigger warning: Explicit descriptions of serious injuries (broken bones and burns), just a bad word, a little self-consciousness, and a lot of angst.

Words: +5000 (Got carried away)

Author´s note:

I don´t love this one, it made my heart ache a bit tho.

This takes place when Vision was still awkward with the Avengers, so he is going to talk with more estimation.

Also more Agatha ones are coming! :)

Any mistakes are on me and me only!

Anyways, please enjoy!

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

The team was trapped, you were going in front, trying to clean the way to give access to Cap and Widow, they needed to enter the building and destroy the heart of it.

While fighting some guards, you looked up instinctively and saw Wanda attacking from a high position in the air, throwing energy blasts towards some armored trucks.

She is safe.

A bad feeling hit your gut, and your eyes searched around the field.

They landed on a guy who was standing on a tall rock not so far from you.

Before you could react, he shot an electric net, which captured Wanda, instantly wrapping leaving her motionless and shocking her until she was unconscious.

With widened eyes, following her all the time, you ran into the guy, throwing him into the nearest tree, knocking him over, and ran to catch Wanda.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

You gave yourself an electromagnetic impulse, and then your body was collapsing into Wanda’s in the air, but as soon as you touched her, the electric shot went through you, you shut your eyes tight and groaned.

You grabbed the net, your eyes started blooming with light, and with an inhuman effort, you tore it from her body, making her fall from you.

The net was giving you electric shots but you did your best to let Wanda land without her getting hurt.

Her body landed gracefully.

Yours not.

You were like a ragdoll being thrown into the ground, your ribs crunched, twisting inside you and making your organs turn, one of your arms twisted backward, you grunted loudly as your head hit the ground in a bumping motion, and you were dragged various meters, the hard rock floor cutting through your skin and bruising you.

Slightly dizzy, you managed to lift your head.

You needed to see if Wanda was okay.

And when you saw her chest rising slowly, you let go a relieved sigh.

Widow, Cap, and Bruce screamed at you, and by the time you were processing what they said, an explosion was the last thing you heard.

And then everything went black.

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

Wanda jolted awake terrified, breathing sharply, holding the sheets for her dear life.

What happened?

She cleaned some of the sweat on her forehead and started to ease her nerves, trying to calm herself.

Wanda left her room and went to the kitchen, the halls of the Avenger’s tower were empty.

Strange.

When she arrived, they were all gathered in there, all with worried looks on their faces, some facing the ground, some staring at something.

And then, the realization hit her.

Someone was carrying her back to the ship, in the middle of all the shouting and explosions, she saw that they were winning, she could remember that something hit her and she lost balance, but she was confused, she was falling from high, why her body was unharmed?

Then she saw another body being carried near her, and she quickly recognized who it was.

You.

But she couldn’t see your face, it was blurry and fading, your body seemed...

Lifeless.

Then she fainted.

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

“Where is (y/n)?”

The question was hesitant, almost like a whisper, and bit her bottom lip.

Maybe she just didn’t want to hear the answer to that question.

Wanda searched between all of them, they looked at each other with sad faces.

Clint avoided her eyes, Natasha was fiddling her fingers, lost in her mind; Cap looked at her but quickly returned his gaze to the floor.

Vision was leaning onto the counter with his arms folded.

“Vision.”

He flinched, Wanda used a stern tone, not a good sign.

“Where is (y/n)?”

Her thick sokovian accent slipped, the question was venenous, her eyes flashed red for a second.

Vision couldn’t bear it anymore, that was too much pressure.

“This compromises me a lot, Wanda, (y/n) fervently asked us to not tell you.”

He said nervous, clasping his hands together while he approached her.

“She is currently at Dr. Banner´s laboratory.”

As soon the sentence left his mouth, Wanda hurried off the room.

Vision turned around to watch the other’s faces, who only nodded, and quickly followed Wanda.

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

The doors of the lab flushed brutely open, Banner jumped backward losing balance and fell, Wanda made her way towards him stomping, her magic surrounding her menacing.

“Where?”

Her eyes lighted up dangerously for a second as a warning.

Bruce only pointed on a left hall, quickly shooting up on his feet and guiding Wanda, she was following closely, every step as a threat for him to walk faster.

He unlocked the door and Wanda pushed him aside, not having a pinch of patience.

She gasped.

You were nowhere to be seen.

If looks could kill, Banner would be three meters underground.

“I- I swear I left her here.”

He put his hands as if surrender, he quickly went to check your last vital signals registered on the machines.

“Her body was recovering quickly.”

He smiled nervously at Wanda, her anger was replaced with concern.

Thousands of negative thoughts were racing on her mind.

Vision appeared, traversing through the wall, his eyes saw the empty gurney in front of him and then settled on Wanda.

“I bet she is breathing and stable, Wanda.”

He tried to comfort her while he patted her shoulder, just for Wanda to turn and hug him.

She started sobbing like a child, she couldn’t contain herself.

She had so many things to tell you.

Vision soothed her, caressing her back awkwardly, he didn’t know what to do with human emotions.

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

Four weeks had passed.

You hadn’t shown any signals of life.

Tony had sent multiple drones to seek for you, the other avengers were searching every day in your favorite spots around the town.

Wanda, on the other side, every day that passed, the first thing that she did was go to your room, and run her hand through the sheets of your bed, your figure still draw in them, she would spend the whole day locked in there.

She also had a shirt that you gave her, she would sleep every night in her bed, hugging the shirt tightly.

“I should have told you, I should have done so many things, (y/n).”

She felt heavy, her eyes swollen for crying till she was dry, her throat sore, she was tired.

She still hoped that one day, she would wake up, go to your room and you would be there.

You would be sleeping peacefully, waiting to the alarm to wake you and spend your day making the avengers laugh at your silly jokes, training almost half of the day, and in the afternoon, while everyone was occupied, you would approach silently to Wanda’s bedroom, hesitantly deciding if knock or not the door, which she would sense you and would permit you to enter, you would find her sitting leg-crossed in her bed, while watching a 50’s black and white sitcom.

She would invite you with a warm smile and a slight nod, asking silently for you to sit on her side.

At some point in the show, she would look at you from the corner of her eye.

You would be watching the show attentive, trying to understand what was happening, but your thoughts, were flooding with Wanda’s presence, how warm she felt, how her company calmed you, she made you happy, she made you feel safe.

You would feel that someone is looking at you, and you would turn to see Wanda, who is now looking at you fully, with a small blush on her cheeks.

You would smile at her, your heartbeat would rise and your eyes would gleam with emotions.

Wanda would retrieve the smile.

“Hey.”

You would say cheerily.

“Hey.”

She would reply sheepishly.

The show would end and you would ask if she wants to see another episode.

She would say yes.

She always says yes to you.

And you would spend the entire afternoon watching the show, maybe you would leave Wanda for some snacks and then would return with your arms full, making Wanda laugh.

Or maybe you would fall asleep because the show not more entertains you, and she would look at you with devotion and adoration.

Some nights you would stay there, Wanda always let you stay, she would hug you, let her head rest on your chest and sleep with you, the next morning you would jolt awake and shower thousands of apologies to Wanda, she just would laugh and say that it was okay.

Some nights you would wake up in the middle of the night, super embarrassed, apologizing and leave, saying that it won’t happen again.

Wanda despised that kind of nights.

She loved your company.

Vision entered her room once again, always forgetting about privacy.

He would do this every day, bringing her some food, and she would eat half of it, just for respect.

Wanda’s head shot up, watching Vision approach to the bed.

“What do you want, Vision?”

Wanda asked dryly, her accent became evident these past weeks, it seems that it tended to appear when she was annoyed.

“I excuse myself for the bargain, Wanda, but I kindly remind you to ingest the nutrients your body needs.”

He replied while gesturing towards the plate he left that afternoon, deep in him, he was hoping that Wanda at least, ate, because her lack of resting and lack of self-care was clearly evident.

She scoffed and returned to her curled-up position.

Vision sighed, this needed to change.

She was not fine.

“Wanda.”

His voice was stern now.

No response.

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“You need to eat something, if you continue like this, you will pass out.”

Still no response.

“The Avengers, including myself, are doing everything in their limits to find (Y/n)”

He trailed off a bit in the end.

Wanda turned her head to look at him.

“She will appear, I can sense it.”

Now her whole body was facing him.

“I think she would like to find you doing well.”

He dedicated Wanda a slight smile, she replied with another.

“Thank you, Vision.”

He just nodded and left the room.

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

Two weeks passed after that.

Wanda recovered some color on her face, her lips were plump again, and her eyes were refreshed, she would give a small smile if she encountered someone on her way to the kitchen or returning to your bedroom.

When she opened the door, she squealed when she found Vision inside but smiled afterwards.

“Vis, what are you doing here?”

He was in the middle of the room, looking outside through the gigantic window.

He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t move.

Wanda, slightly confused, approached him.

“Are you okay?”

She grabbed his shoulder, slowly turning him to her.

She locked her eyes onto his.

But they weren’t Vision’s eyes.

They were (y/e/c).

“Wanda...”

Vision talked, but that wasn’t only his voice, there were hints of yours too.

“(Y/n)?”

She smiled hopefully and cupped Vision’s face.

“You look stunningly delicious, Wanda.”

Vision smiled fondly like he was feeling your excitement.

The compliment was a joke between you and her, she was trying to learn english compliments and asked if the Froot Loops could be described as “stunningly delicious” .

She laughed a bit and looked into your eyes.

It was you but how?

“How have you been? Have you lost weight?”

The Vision-controlled-by-you asked pressing her cheeks together, her face now looked like a Blowfish.

The body quickly retracted his hands and took a step backward.

His eyes turned blue again.

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I hope that didn’t bother you.”

That was Vision, embarrassed of grabbing Wanda´s face like that, even if that was you.

You apologized mentally to him, he said that it was fine.

Wanda laughed a bit, she realized that you two were talking mentally as he had his eyes closed but they were moving furiously.

“How are you doing all this?”

She approached Vision again, he opened his eyes and they were yours.

“It’s a long story, but we are somehow connected.”

You smiled a little while remembering something.

You sighed and looked at her again.

“I just wanted to see you, to check if you were doing fine, Wanda.”

Her eyes started watering, and she shivered a bit.

Oh how much she missed you, how much she missed your face.

“Where are you right now, (y/n)?”

She simply asked and that took you by surprise.

You gulped and tried to take Vision back, but she grabbed your shoulder to keep you in place and grasped your chin so you couldn’t avoid her gaze.

“Where are you!?”

Her voice broke, she was crying.

Your eyes closed shut, you were concerned for her, you wished, no, you dreamed of being there, replacing Vision.

“I’m sorry, Wanda.”

You cupped her face and hugged her tightly so she won’t move.

“I really am.”

She shoved Vision backward so she could look at your eyes.

“Wait! (Y/n)!”

She shook Vision when she saw how (y/e/c) were fading to give access to Vision´s ones again.

“Don’t go...”

Wanda trailed off when he saw the pitiful look on his eyes, she started sobbing loudly.

“I apologize, Wanda.”

He hugged her, but not like you.

Nobody could hug like you.

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

They stayed in the room after that, it was quiet, Vision was sitting beside Wanda the entire time, she stopped crying after some time; when it got too late, he left the room and quickly returned with some food.

“How...”

Wanda mumbled as Vision was setting a little table in front of her.

“How is she connected with you?”

Wanda asked nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and scratching her arm.

Vision nodded and sat again, giving Wanda a glass of water and observing her.

She took the hint and began to eat.

After a few seconds, he started talking.

“I don’t have a proper explanation of it.”

Vision said frowning.

“One day, (y/n) just approached me, she touched the stone...”

He motioned his hand hanging over the stone a little.

“And suddenly, I could feel not just me, but her too.”

He looked at his hands.

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

And it was true.

When you arrived at the tower, Vision was a really interesting being for you.

You quickly befriended everyone, even him; he would ask about some human things, and you would gladly tell him everything you knew about it, still amazed at the fact that he could think properly and feel too.

One day, the curiosity took the best of you, and you asked if you could touch the stone, slightly embarrassed, you didn’t know how Vision could feel about it.

He smiled at you and nodded, bending a little so you could reach his forehead.

You thanked him and softly pressed your digits into the rock.

Click.

Everything made sense, his existence, how his body worked, how he could feel things, you now could see how he was conformed, you watched his energy flowing in his body.

He was a sophisticated invention, and when you looked at his eyes, the stone glowed.

Your eyes flashed.

Vision could see your brain working, your veins pumping and your nerves functioning, you were something more than a simple human, yet you were made in blood and flesh.

He could feel you and you felt him.

You two shared a smile.

He was a good artificial friend, and you were the closest he has been to a human.

When you got hurt in the battle, he left the Avenger’s tower, even if told he had to stay and not intervene, and when he found you, lying unconscious on the ground, he carried you to the lab immediately.

He felt how you were physically hurt, while you were screaming to the others from pain in the lab, crying.

He felt.

He had felt you thinking loudly while you escaped.

Then he felt how you were hiding from the avengers.

No.

You were hiding from Wanda.

He could feel...

Your sadness.

So he contacted you, through a mind bond you both had, at first that scared the shit out of you, but quickly was replaced by relief.

He was... happy to be talking to you, you two agreed that he would check on you, but he wouldn’t say anything.

In his visits, he told you about everyone, you felt horrible, and when he told you about Wanda’s breakdown, you made him promise that he would take care of her.

And he gladly did.

Because this was not an order, like the ones that Stark gave to him.

This was something that you asked.

And while you were asking, he felt your sorrow.

So when he returned another week and told you that Wanda was doing better because he raised her hopes about seeing you again, you had to do something.

You couldn’t appear, no.

His stone was enlightened again.

And you understood that this connection was deeper than you initially thought.

When you looked at him, he nodded, and you hugged him.

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

Wanda stopped chewing and gazed at him, in disbelief.

He sighed.

“Wanda... is there any possibility that I could see inside your mind?”

She gave him a confused glare, frowning, and shook her head.

“It’s just... I feel like...”

His stone gleamed for a second.

Wanda’s eyes shot up and she approached him, she slightly raised her hand, and Vision stiffened.

That was not what he wanted, and Wanda caught up.

She closed her eyes and let her hands rest on her legs.

Vision nodded and softly pressed his hand into her temple.

Now, he no only felt how you were observing, but now, you were feeling Wanda too.

She felt painfully broken, flooding with anguish and melancholy, she felt like someone tore apart half of her soul.

You felt her.

And now you were crying disconsolately.

Vision quickly drawled his hand back, he had his eyes closed and a pained look on his face.

Wanda blinked a few times and give a concerned look at him.

“Vis, what happened?”

Vision opened his eyes.

A tear ran down his cheek.

“I know where is (y/n).”

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

You were gathered in a corner of the room you were living in, crying, you couldn’t stop your tears anymore.

You missed Wanda, you missed her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her warmth.

You missed the moments you spent with her.

I should have told her...

You heard someone bursting into the living room.

Vision?

You didn’t have the forces to confront him right now.

“(Y/n)!?”

You froze.

It wasn’t Vision.

It was Wanda.

“(Y/n)!? Where are you!?”

She screamed with hope in a faint voice.

Everything was dark, Wanda quickly lighted the only bulb that was in the room.

“(Y/n)! Please!”

She cried out, her heart pumping hard in her chest, her face tear-stained was desperate looking around.

And from all the darkness, you appeared.

Wanda went through thousand of emotions when she saw you.

You were different.

Skinny, almost in your bones, your body slightly curved, like you were using just a foot to put your whole weight, one of your arms was bruised; the other one holding a cane.

You stepped more into the light, and she took in your face.

Your lips were dry, you had a big cut in the bottom one, half of your right ear was missing.

And the whole part of your eyes was bandaged.

You were wondering if your mind tricked you, there was no sign of someone in there.

Until you felt an arm wrapping you tightly.

You dropped your cane and hold onto the figure.

Wanda started sobbing into your shoulder, she had one of her arms grabbing you strongly by your back and the other one was grasping your shoulders, trying to feel you as most as she could.

“I thought that I had lost you.”

She continued to cry until she had little hiccups.

You were crying too, your bandages were damped at this point.

“I’m sorry...”

You replied breathlessly.

She left the embrace, but she continued to hold you, her hands were now at your waist.

“I won’t leave again.”

You nodded slowly, trying to reassure her that it was a promise.

She observed you and reached the bandages to tug them off, but you quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“Wait, Wanda.”

You called quickly, your heartbeat raised, and your breaths became shorter.

“You don’t have to.”

You were anxious, repeatedly trying to put her hand down.

She cupped your face with her other hand and caressed your cheek with her thumb.

“I want to, (Y/n)”

For a moment, you dug your nails into her wrist but you quickly surrendered.

It was Wanda after all.

As soon as you nodded, she retrieved her hands and used her magic to undo the bandages.

It all happened slowly, she carefully took every layer, hesitating a little, because every layer she took off made you stiffen more.

At the final layer, she used her hands, she grabbed gently the last strand, removed it, and let it fall into the ground.

She gasped and her eyes softened.

The superior part of your face was the most affected.

The whole upper area was in a dark crimson pinkish color, burned, and in living flesh.

It covered all of it, and it reached from ear to ear.

It seemed like it was healing slowly, but the worst part was your eyes.

They were covered mostly in a milky white layer, leaving a quarter of your (e/c) at sight, swollen and sticky, tears staining your eyelids.

Now they were moving, desperately trying to seek something.

Wanda sensed your hesitation.

“I’m happy to see you.”

She smiled and leaned forward but stop inches enough so you were feeling her hot breath against your face.

“Does it hurts?”

You blinked a few times.

“No, it doesn’t.”

She brushed her nose with yours.

She read about it in a book, it was told that Eskimos couldn’t kiss because of the cold weather, so they brush their noses gently to show affection.

It was something that she liked, and you despised.

You crunched your nose and smiled.

She smiled too.

“Wanda, I have something to tell you.”

You took a step back, trying to make some room but you almost tripped so she caught you by your back.

You had one of your hands grabbing her coat and the other one her arm.

“And if I don’t say it know, It seems that probably I won’t have the chance to do it other time”

You chuckled quietly.

“ I...”

You sighed, she was giving you time to talk, you thanked that.

“I love you.”

She became ecstatic.

Your eyes stared forward, unsure, moving rapidly, waiting for an answer.

The room was silent.

You were trembling at this point.

She shook her head rapidly, coming back to reality, and when she realized that you couldn’t see her, she grabbed your hands and let you cup her face.

You eagerly touched her features, going from her forehead, tracing the corner of her eyes, caressing her cheekbones, and when you cupped her jaw, you could sense that she was smiling.

“What do you feel, (y/n)?”

A tear touched your hand and you carefully wiped it away.

“I just feel you.”

She kissed the palm of your hand.

“Good.”

She said softly and her eyes shot up red.

She was letting you into her mind.

Memories, feelings, and thoughts of her were being shown to you, so you shared yours too.

You saw how she would check on you while you were training, using a facade of “I like to see some moves to use later” knowing that she doesn’t use close combat, or how she would prepare foods that you liked in a thankful form for missing dinners when you preferred spending the night with her.

You saw how the high ranked members on meetings would make her feel less saying that she was dangerous, so it was safer to not use her in order to protect the civilians on there; but she would simply shrug it off because, in the afternoon, she would see you again.

You saw how she spent these weeks going to your bedroom and hugging your shirt, crying until she fell asleep.

You saw how she was shattered into million pieces and made her best to compose herself in the hope of seeing you again.

On her side, she saw how your eyes were fixated on her in Stark’s parties to see if she was having fun, and when you come to realize that she was getting a bit uncomfortable, you would smoothly distract anyone that was talking to her to give her some space, or how would you seek for her in every mission just to see if she was doing fine, even if you were the one that needed help.

She saw how you would have a terrible day and it all disappeared when you saw her.

She saw how you caught her while she was falling in the mission, and made sure that she was okay.

She saw how your body fell, twisted, and cracked, how the mine near you exploded.

How you screamed in agony, crying loudly and begging the others to not let her see you like this.

Because in every thought that you had.

She was present.

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

You abandoned each other’s mind, her magic burst in a blast in the room when you broke the connection.

“Wow.”

You both said in a whisper at the same time, with your foreheads pressed.

“(Y/n)?”

Her gaze was fixated on you while she was brushing her slender fingers through your long hair.

“Yes, Wanda?”

This time, your eyes were searching for something, it seemed like you were searching for her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes shot up and somehow they looked into Wanda’s

“You can.”

You closed her eyes and stood still, Wanda closed hers too and leaned, kissing you dearly, making you both melt into the kiss.

It felt good.

Like new stars forming in the universe, like a laugh of a newborn or the soft caress of a mother.

Her lips had a faint taste of salty tears mixed with her sugary strawberry lipstick.

Your lips felt softer than they seemed, they had a taste of chocolate syrup covered with a hint of mint.

You had been eating your favorite candy, Vision had brought a box of them without being asked.

It’s a gift, he said, smiling.

Your hand tried to reach her face so she took your hand, grabbing and squeezing it lovingly.

You were the one that broke the kiss, with your eyes still closed but you didn’t pull apart from her, her body was emanating the heat you missed and craved.

She didn’t try to move away neither, she was enjoying the moment.

“I love you too, (y/n).”

She murmured against your lips while you formed a smile.

She laughed, and took you into her arms, picking you up, and started swirling you around.

You chuckled and screamed startled at her to stop, she stopped and lifted you higher, with a smile on her face that quite reached her ears and observed you for a moment.

Your hair was falling in cascades on her face, it framed your features perfectly, your eyes were squinted because of your wide smile.

She lowered you a bit, so now you were hovering her face.

You instinctively inclined your head, searching for her face and she made it easier when she guided your lips to hers.

This one felt like shooting stars too.

Your heart was doing stunts in your chest, she hummed into the kiss and both of you sighed excitedly.

You let your hands rest on her shoulders and wrapped your legs around her torso, then she had her hands securing you by the waist.

She broke the kiss this time, your body was melting into her touch.

You let your chin rest on her shoulder and closed your eyes, letting go a deep breath.

This felt right.

Wanda nodded, and raised her hand to rub your back, she agreed.

This indeed felt right.

“I’m sorry.”

You said suddenly, swallowing a sob, the guilt tightened your chest.

“Don’t be.”

She was smiling sadly, she still couldn’t conceive the thought of never seeing you again.

“But I only caused problems, I made you feel miserable.”

You buried your head into her neck, your voice was quiet.

“I was sad because I remembered all the happy moments that you shared with me, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but you are alive, (y/n).”

She was excited now.

“I have the chance to show you how much I love you.”

You giggled and kissed her neck, making her laugh too.

You backed a bit, forgetting that you couldn’t see her, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest, she was there, and you could feel her.

“Wanda?”

You asked knitting your brows.

“Yes, (y/n)?

She cupped your cheek, watching you with a goofy smile.

“Are we floating?”

You laughed a bit, you could somehow sense that you weren’t on the floor, but it became obvious when you let go of your legs from her waist and your feet just felt air.

And you were right.

Absently minded, Wanda started floating while sharing the kiss with you.

“Yes, we are.”

She was laughing sheepishly, she slowly started lowering you both, holding you tenderly, until she reached the ground and she helped you to stand.

You both had your hands intertwined.

“I’ll stay with you from now on.”

She stated, taking your expressions, you were thinking.

“First me disappearing, then you gone? The others will freak out.”

You chuckled at the thought, imagining the chaos that would lose Wanda’s disappearance.

She kissed both of your hands, and leave them to grab your temples and rest her head over yours.

“Vision knows where are we, if they need us, they can talk to him.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“Poor him.”

You could hear a soft voice in the back of your head.

I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

“Oh and (Y/n)?”

Wanda asked, a smile could be heard in her voice.

“Yes?”

“You look stunningly delicious.”

She snorted and gently kissed your nose.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #mcu #marvel x y/n #mcu reader insert

214 notes · View notes

kjack89 · 4 years ago

Note

TimeTravel! Au where established-relationship modern Enjoltaire accidentally go back in time to barricade day and meet canon-era-reluctant-frenemies Enjoltaire with a series of awkward misunderstandings. Or include all of the Amis, or a fluffy kidfic(or not, since they're in a middle of a warzone), idk you decide.

So I really let the ‘idk you decide’ do a lot of heavy lifting here in terms of what this prompt became. Sorry Nonny!

Time Travel AU (kinda/sorta), E/R, established and also not, Modern AU and also Canon. Referenced/implied canonical major character death.

The crowd was suffocating, a mass of bodies that jostled Grantaire from every side as he tried his best to push through, but he didn’t care. He had one singular goal: he had to get to Enjolras.

He caught flashes through the crowd of Enjolras, using the hood of a car as a makeshift stage, shouting something into a megaphone that was drowned out by the roar of people, and though Grantaire’s temper was soured by having to shoulder his way through the masses just to get to his boyfriend, as always, even the briefest sight of Enjolras in his element was enough to make him smile.

A smile that quickly faded as Grantaire finally made it to the front of the crowd, only to see a platoon of police officers in full riot gear approaching.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire shouted, but his voice was lost over the noise of the crowd, especially as others had caught sight of the approaching cops.

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, his expression hardening as the police drew closer. “Citizens, stay calm,” he shouted through the megaphone, but the crowd was already beginning a panicked scattering.

Grantaire was knocked almost to the ground by folks trying to flee, and by the time he struggled to his feet, it was to see a police officer drawing up behind Enjolras, baton at the ready. “Enjolras!” Grantaire called, but it was too late: the police officer clubbed Enjolras in the legs, and Enjolras pitched forward, off of the hood of the car and out of Grantaire’s line of sight.

Grantaire’s blood ran cold, and he immediately started pushing back through the crowd, but he couldn’t seem to make any headway against the masses of people. His heart raced with pure terror as the cops all but surrounded the car that Enjolras had been standing on.

“No!” Grantaire screamed, clawing at the people dragging him in the opposite direction, away from where Enjolras had fallen. “No, Enjolras! Enjolras!”

He struggled in vain, wordless sobs punching from his chest as he watched a cop yank Enjolras upright by his hair, a trickle of blood running down Enjolras’s pale forehead. Somehow, Enjolras’s eyes found Grantaire in the crowd, and he mouthed something that Grantaire couldn’t quite make out. “No,” Grantaire gasped, as the cop raised his gun to Enjolras’s head.

And pulled the trigger.

“NO!”

Grantaire sat bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving, drenched in sweat. “Grantaire?” Enjolras asked sleepily. “Grantaire, what—”

He broke off when he saw the state Grantaire was in, sitting up immediately and gently touching Grantaire’s arm. “It’s ok,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, just loud enough to be heard over Grantaire’s harsh breathing. “You’re ok. It was just a nightmare.”

Grantaire swallowed, hard, and shook his head, but no words came. Instead he turned and buried his face against Enjolras’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of the man who was very clearly still alive, still here, still next to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Enjolras’s shirt.

“For what?” Enjolras asked, stroking Grantaire’s hair. “For having a nightmare? I’m not entirely sure that’s something you can really control…”

Grantaire shook his head again and pulled away from Enjolras. “No, for not getting to you in time,” he said hoarsely.

Enjolras frowned. “In your dream?” he asked, and Grantaire nodded. “What happened?” Grantaire made a face and Enjolras’s frown deepened. “You dreamed I died again.”

It wasn’t a question, and for good reason. This was the fifth or sixth time in the past few weeks that Grantaire had been besieged by nightmares of Enjolras being killed, frequently enough that it was becoming a habit. And not one of Grantaire’s fun habits.

Not that Enjolras would consider most of Grantaire’s habits fun, but that was an argument Grantaire supposed could wait for another day.

He realized a moment too late that Enjolras had asked him something, and blinked at him. “Sorry?” he said, his voice still hoarse.

“I said, who was it this time?”

Enjolras’s voice was light, almost joking, and Grantaire knew that he was trying to make him feel better, even if it didn’t actually do anything to slow his still-racing heart or calm his still-shaking hands. “Cops,” he said.

Enjolras didn’t look surprised, just nodding slowly. “EDCAB,” he said, pronouncing each letter with no small amount of venom, and Grantaire gave him a startled look. “Even Dream Cops Are Bastards.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Pretty sure dream cops are included in the ‘all cops’ part of ACAB,” he said.

“Sure, but it doesn’t hurt to specify.” Grantaire didn’t laugh and Enjolras’s forehead puckered with concern. “This is becoming a pattern,” he said. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it.”

Grantaire made a noise in the back of his throat, imagining the field day his therapist would have with this revelation. “I am talking to someone,” he said dismissively.

But Enjolras didn’t so much as a crack a smile. “You know what I mean.” He ran a hand up and down Grantaire’s arm. “There’s only so many times that I can tell you that you’re worrying for nothing, that I’m perfectly safe, that nothing’s going to happen to me. Especially since your subconscious doesn’t appear to be getting the hint.”

“In fairness, my subconscious is probably a better judge of the relative danger you put yourself in than you are,” Grantaire muttered, sliding away from Enjolras and standing up, grabbing his t-shirt from where he had shed it the night before and shrugging it on. “Between the cops, the far-right groups—”

“Which are really one and the same,” Enjolras said sourly.

“—and the regular fringe groups with an axe to grind, and just the fact that you make a pretty easy target—”

Enjolras scowled. “Are you victim-blaming?” he asked.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, heading into the kitchen to start the coffee. “No,” he said. “But that doesn’t also mean that you can’t take some reasonable precautions for your own safety.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mom,” Enjolras called, and Grantaire rolled his eyes again, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard as he waited for the coffeemaker. Enjolras padded into the kitchen a minute or two later, leaning against the fridge as he watched Grantaire. “You said that you couldn’t get to me in time.”

“Huh?” Grantaire said distractedly.

“In your dream. You apologized for not being able to get to me in time.”

Grantaire braced himself against the counter and shook his head. “Not just this dream,” he said quietly. “Every dream.”

Enjolras frowned. “So is that what this is really about?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said tiredly. “Look, just...just drop it, ok?”

“Fine,” Enjolras said, though his tone indicated that it wasn’t. Grantaire could feel his eyes on him as he poured them both cups of coffee, and when he passed him the mug, Enjolras asked, “Are you ok?”

Grantaire shrugged, resting his hip against the counter as he took a swig of too-hot coffee. “I’m fine.”

Enjolras didn’t look convinced. “Well, look at this way,” he said bracingly, the teasing tone back in his voice, “even if you had gotten to me, what would you have been able to do to stop it? Going down in a hail of bullets together is only romantic when Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid do it.”

Grantaire stared at him, his heart in his throat. He knew that Enjolras was only joking, but somehow, that made it worse, that he would dismiss this as nothing more than a joke. “Maybe there’s nothing that I can do,” he said, his voice low, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

Without another word, he went out onto the balcony, closing the sliding door after him with more force than was necessary.

This time, Enjolras didn’t follow him right away, which was probably for the best. Grantaire knew he was being ridiculous, just as he knew that Enjolras had only been trying to make him laugh. It was an effort he would normally appreciate, if the image of Enjolras with a gun to his head wasn’t seared on the inside of his eyelids.

A few minutes later, Enjolras poked his head out from the sliding door. “Can I come out?” he asked.

“Pretty sure you didn’t ask permission to do so back in junior high, so Lord knows I’m not going to stop you now.”

Enjolras laughed lightly, stepping out onto the balcony. “Cute,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Grantaire said with a sigh, turning to rest his elbows on the balcony railing.

Enjolras leaned on the railing next to him. “I didn’t mean—” he started, but despite his reaction earlier, Grantaire didn’t really need to hear it.

“I know,” he repeated instead, a little gentler this time, and Enjolras nodded.

“We’re ok, right?” he asked, studying Grantaire carefully.

Grantaire turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked me that.”

“No, I asked if you were ok,” Enjolras said. “Now I’m asking about us.”

Instead of answering, Grantaire snaked an arm around Enjolras’s waist, pulling him close and kissing him lightly.. “We’re—” he started, breaking off when there was a horrible sound of groaning metal. “Was that—?”

Before he could even finish the question, the railing they were both leaning against gave out with a horrible shriek, sending both men tumbling to the ground twenty feet below.

----------

Grantaire groaned, feeling like he had been hit by a semi-truck. “Enjolras?” he muttered, feeling with his hand since he wasn’t quite ready to open his eyes. “Enj—”

His hand landed on something soft and he did finally open his eyes when he heard Enjolras groan, “You can stop molesting me at any time.”

“Oh thank God,” Grantaire said, realizing for the first time that despite the ache that seemed to permeate his body, nothing seemed broken or even bleeding. He carefully pushed against the ground to sit up, realizing for the first time that they weren’t lying on the sidewalk outside their apartment building. Instead, they were in some dark alley, lying on… “Cobblestones?” Grantaire asked, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around. “Where the hell are we?”

Enjolras sat up slowly, looking just as confused, though after a moment he froze, staring at Grantaire’s chest. “I think the better question is when are we,” he said, nodding towards Grantaire’s shirt.

Grantaire glanced down and let out a yelp. He was not dressed in the t-shirt and boxers he had previously had on. Instead, he was wearing a loose linen shirt with a green vest and matching cravat. He looked quickly at Enjolras, who was similarly dressed, though his vest was red. “What the fuck is going on?”

Enjolras braced himself against the wall as he stood, wincing the entire time. “If I had to guess,” he said, glancing around them, “we’re both hallucinating from our fall.”

Grantaire scowled and leaned forward, pinching Enjolras’s thigh. Enjolras let out a high-pitched noise and glared down at him. “What was that for?!”

“Proof we’re not dreaming,” Grantaire said. “Help me up, would you?”

Enjolras glowered at him but nonetheless helped him to his feet. “I didn’t say we were dreaming, I said we were hallucinating. There’s a difference.”

“Potato, po-tah-to.”

Grantaire winced as he brushed his pants off and Enjolras frowned. “Are you ok?”

“I’ve had hangovers worse than this, don’t worry,” Grantaire assured him, glancing around them as well. “So when do you think we are?”

“Judging by the clothes, sometime in the first half of the 19th century,” Enjolras said with a shrug.

“Care to narrow it down any?” Grantaire asked dryly. “Other than night time in what I’m guessing is Paris?” Enjolras ignored him, instead snagging a discarded pamphlet from where someone had tossed it. “What’s that?”

Enjolras shrugged, not looking up from the pamphlet. “Some kind of pamphlet,” he said vaguely.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Well no shit, I can see that. But a pamphlet for what?”

“For General Lamarque’s funeral.” Realization flashed across Enjolras’s face. “I know what date it is,” he said, his eyes wide. “It’s June 5th. Or early in the morning June 6th.”

Grantaire stared at him. “You got that from some random dude’s funeral?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Sure, when the ‘random dude’s funeral was the major catalyst of the June Rebellion?”

“The June Rebellion?” Grantaire asked tiredly, certain he was in for a lecture on how those who don’t remember history were doomed to repeat it.

But Enjolras seemed willing to save the lecture for a different time. “Short rebellion that took place in Paris at the beginning of June, 1832. An unsuccessful uprising, obviously.” He squinted at the street name written on the edge of the building at the end of the alley. “And if I’m right, we should head in this direction so that we don’t get stuck in the crossfire.”

They set off slowly down the alley and turned right onto a deserted street. Grantaire glanced over at him before remarking, half-fond and half-exasperated, “You and your knowledge of every obscure uprising in western civilization’s long and sordid history…”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Hey, I’m not the only one who remembers it,” he said. “I heard a rumor that someone was going to make a musical out of it.”

“Out of the June Rebellion?” Grantaire asked, incredulous. “Bit dark for a musical, don’t you think?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Well, after the success of Hamilton, I think we’re going to see a lot more musicals based on historical events,” he reasoned.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, but the June Rebellion? What are they gonna sing about, cholera? Deplorable working conditions? The prison-industrial complex in early 19th century France?”

“Don’t be an ass,” Enjolras said good-naturedly. “There’s a reason I’m a political organizer and not a musical writer—”

He broke off and Grantaire snorted. “Sure, including the fact that you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but—”

Enjolras caught his arm. “Grantaire, shut up,” he ordered quietly. “Someone’s coming.”

Sure enough, out of nowhere, a figure popped up, holding a rifle aimed at them. “Identify yourselves as friend or foe of the Revolution,” the person called, and Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged startled glances.

Because it sounded like…

But it couldn’t be…

“Courfeyrac?” Enjolras managed as the figure approached.

Sure enough, as the figure approached, they were able to make out his features, which matched Courfeyrac’s almost identically. Even stranger than that, when he saw them, the man who looked like Courfeyrac immediately relaxed. “Ah, Enjolras, Grantaire,” he said, lowering his rifle. “What are you doing this far from the barricade? When last I saw you, Enjolras, you were planning for tomorrow with Combeferre, and of course, Grantaire, you’ve been sleeping off the drink for hours now in the Corinthe.”

“And it was time that I got back to it,” Grantaire said quickly, glancing up at Enjolras. “Come find me when you can get away,” he said, his voice low, and for a moment, it looked like Enjolras would argue, probably to tell him that it was better that they stuck together.

But Grantaire suspected that it would be easier to figure what the hell was going on if they split up, or at least less obvious that both of them had no clue what was happening.

Enjolras hesitated but then nodded. “Be safe,” he said, leaning in automatically to kiss Grantaire’s forehead like he had hundreds of times before.

“I doubt that even in 1832 I’m the one who needs that reminder,” Grantaire said with a small smile, and he squeezed Enjolras’s hand before heading off to the building that Courfeyrac – or the man who looked exactly like him – had indicated.

Enjolras fell in step next to Courfeyrac, following him in what he could only assume was the direction of the barricade. But if this was Courfeyrac, he was unusually quiet for the man that Enjolras knew. Then, abruptly, Courfeyrac said, “I did not realize that you and Grantaire…”

He trailed off, but his meaning – and the reason for his unusual quiet – was clear. Enjolras realized that in this time, he and Grantaire must not be together. “It is...not something we’ve been, uh, public about,” Enjolras said carefully, watching Courfeyrac closely.

To his surprise, Courfeyrac laughed lightly. “Well, perhaps you’ve not been,” he said with a grin that was eerily familiar, “but there is none who could doubt the depth of Grantaire’s feelings for you.”

Enjolras was uncomfortably reminded of those first few years of barely managed friendship between him and Grantaire, when Grantaire had gone out of his way to get under Enjolras’s skin and how it had taken him forever to realize that it was because Grantaire liked him. “Apparently I’m not a quick study,” he muttered, and Courfeyrac laughed again, though he broke off quickly, growing more somber as they approached the barricade.

“Combeferre was just up there when last I saw him,” he said, pointing toward the barricade. “I must return to the watch lest we lose any others.”

The heaviness of his words hit Enjolras hard, and he wordlessly gripped his shoulder before letting him go. He wondered who they had lost, if it had been any of their friends who also existed in his own time.

It was a chilling thought.

He clambered up the back of the barricade to the small enclave Courfeyrac had pointed out and peered down, less surprised to see a tall man who looked just like the Combeferre from his own time.

But what he didn’t expect to see was that Combeferre was not alone.

And as both men turned to frown at him, he definitely did not expect to see that the man crouched next to Combeferre was...himself.

----------

“Uncanny,” Grantaire breathed, watching his own shoulders rise and fall lightly as he – the other he, the one clearly from this time, this universe, whatever it was – snored softly from where he was slumped over the table in the Corinthe.

The man had the same messy dark curls, the same bump in his nose from when he had broken it – though Grantaire doubted very strongly that this version had broken it falling off his skateboard in elementary school – even the same crooked fingers wrapped loosely around a green glass bottle.

It was like looking at a mirror image, and was one of the strangest things Grantaire had ever seen.

And he had once taken LSD with Bahorel.

The man shifted slightly in his sleep and Grantaire hesitated. He knew that he himself would hate being waken, but at the same time, there really wasn’t any other option.

So after another long moment, he leaned in and poked himself – the other himself – in the side. “Grantaire?” he half-whispered. “Grantaire, wake up.”

The man opened one eye. “Go ‘way,” he mumbled.

“Grantaire, wake up,” Grantaire said, louder this time, and it was enough to make the man open both his eyes.

“Enjolras?” the other Grantaire slurred before blinking and focusing on Grantaire. “Oh,” he said stupidly. “It’s you.”

----------

Enjolras stared dumbly down at the copy of himself, who frowned slightly. “Citizen,” the other Enjolras said. “Have you come to join our Cause?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Enjolras managed, wondering how in the hell he was going to possibly explain this.

Not that it mattered – at his words, the other Enjolras jumped down from the barricade, gun at the ready. “Then speak plainly,” he growled, grabbing Enjolras by the lapels with his free hand. “We have had our fill our spies and—”

He broke off when he finally saw Enjolras’s face, surprise followed by confusion crossing his own. Combeferre followed him down, his weapon also in hand, though he stopped in his tracks, his own eyes widening when he saw Enjolras. “What is this?” he asked, looked at the other Enjolras for explanation.

An explanation that either Enjolras was very clearly lacking.

To Enjolras’s surprise, the other Enjolras recovered first. “My cousin,” he said, a smoother lie than Enjolras would have managed. “From the country.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, nodding quickly. “His cousin, uh, Maximilien.” It was the first name that popped into his head and both Combeferre and the other Enjolras arched identical eyebrows. “I, uh, I was afeared that too late I might have been to attend to the barricade.”

He flushed when he realized he was talking like Yoda mixed with some kind of medieval knight, but thankfully, neither Combeferre nor the other Enjolras appeared to have noticed, or else were too caught up with confusion over what exactly was happening to care.

“Give us a moment,” the other Enjolras ordered quietly, and Combeferre hesitated.

“Are you certain?” he asked, eyeing Enjolras warily.

The other Enjolras nodded. “This man is no traitor or spy,” he said. “On that, I would stake my life.”

Combeferre hesitated for a moment longer before bowing his head and nodding. “Be quick,” he told the other Enjolras. “We have much to discuss before dawn.”

The other Enjolras nodded again and Combeferre left, though not until after one last furtive glance at Enjolras. The other Enjolras finally released Enjolras and set his gun down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Who are you and why do you bear my face?” he asked bluntly.

Enjolras licked his lips before asking, a little desperately, “Would you believe me if I told you that I was you from the future?”

The other Enjolras considered him for a long moment, his brow drawn and his expression impassive. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I would not.”

----------

“So I am you,” the other Grantaire said slowly. “Or, more accurately perhaps, you are me.”

Grantaire nodded. “Right.”

The other Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I would believe that I had drunk too much absinthe,” he said, squinting at Grantaire, “save that I know not why my drink-addled brain would supply this particular vision.”

He raised the bottle in his hand to his lips, letting out a small noise of disappointment when he realized it was empty. “Just like that?” Grantaire asked skeptically. “You believe me without any explanation?”

“What other explanation is there?” the other Grantaire grumbled, tossing the empty bottle aside. “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Grantaire gaped at him. “And now you’re somehow quoting Star Trek?” he spluttered.

The other Grantaire leaned back in his chair. “I do not know what trek through the stars you reference,” he said, scratching his chest and yawning, “but do you suppose the stars you see in your time are the same as in mine?”

Grantaire resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and made a mental note to rein in the philosophizing the next time he, Joly and Bossuet got drunk. How neither of them had hauled off and decked him yet… “I guess so,” he said with a sigh.

“In your time, is there also…” Grantaire braced himself for what many questions the other Grantaire inevitably had for him, but to his surprise, all the other Grantaire asked was, “Is there an Enjolras?”

“Oh, yes.”

Grantaire didn’t hesitate in his answer, but something in the two words had the other Grantaire leaning forward again, his expression unreadable. “And you and he are friends?”

The other Grantaire sounded slightly surprised, but Grantaire just shrugged, a little helplessly. “Friends, lovers, partners...Enjolras is my everything.”

He knew he sounded like a lovesick idiot, but he learned long ago not to bother trying to hide it. The other Grantaire looked even more surprised by this. “Lovers,” he repeated, shaking his head slowly, before peering at Grantaire closely. “But you are not his everything.”

Grantaire blinked, surprised (though he supposed he probably shouldn’t be) by how perspective the other Grantaire was, even three sheets to the wind. “No,” he said. “But he and I understand that. He has the Cause, and everything that comes with it, and he would not be the Enjolras that I fell in love with without it.”

The other Grantaire shook his head again, something like awe creeping into his tone and across his expression. “So you have found a way to be together in spite of – or perhaps because of – who he is.”

The other Grantaire didn’t word it as a question, but Grantaire nodded nonetheless. “Yes,” he said. “It took a lot of work – I mean, it still does – but we have found a way to work it out and be together.” He paused, his heart sinking just slightly at the look on the other Grantaire’s face. “I’ll take it you and your Enjolras…”

“He despises me.”

The other Grantaire said it so plainly that Grantaire flinched at the starkness of the words. “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

But the other Grantaire didn’t appear to have heard him. “Maybe it’s enough,” he murmured. “Enough to know that in another lifetime, we found a way…”

He trailed off again and looked up at Grantaire. “Do we die here?”

The abruptness of the question took Grantaire aback. He didn’t know if he was referring to we as in him and the other Grantaire, or the other Grantaire and his Enjolras, but it didn’t really matter since he didn’t know the answer either way. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

The other Grantaire nodded heavily. Then, abruptly, he muttered, “If Enjolras’s time is come, let us hope mine is as well. There is no life worth living without him in it.”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. As much as he wanted to tell the other Grantaire that he was wrong, hadn’t he had a similar thought just that morning? “I don’t think your Enjolras would be pleased to hear you say that,” he said instead.

To his surprise, the other Grantaire managed a ghost of a smile. “Nor yours, I’d imagine,” he agreed before looking at Grantaire plainly. “But you understand, do you not?”

The breath seemed to catch in Grantaire’s throat, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I understand.”

For one long moment, the other Grantaire studied him closely before his shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. “Well, it has been strange and yet surprisingly pleasant to meet such an apparition as yourself,” he said, already leaning forward to again rest his head against the wood of the table. “Now you should leave me to my slumber.”

Grantaire stood, before hesitating. “Will you promise me something before I go?”

The other Grantaire cracked one eye open. “What would you ask of me?”

“If the worst that both you and I fear comes to pass, if you are to lose Enjolras on this barricade, will you go to him in the end, and die with him?”

He honestly didn’t know what made him ask it, other than the lingering memory of his dream from what seemed like so long ago and yet like no time had passed either. That and what the other Grantaire had said, lingering just the same: Maybe it’s enough to know that in another lifetime...

“I do not think he would want me there,” the other Grantaire said, lifting his head off the table.

Grantaire shook his head. “I think you might be surprised.”

A small, sad smile lifted the corners of the other Grantaire’s mouth. “Forgive me, but your Enjolras seems much gentler than mine. And while he might want you by his side when the end comes, I do not know if I can believe the same for my own.”

“Then don’t do it for him,” Grantaire said bluntly. :Go to him for yourself. Because you deserve to know that he dies knowing that you loved him enough to die by his side”.

“Perhaps I will,” the other Grantaire murmured, closing his eyes again. “But only with his permission. I owe him that much, after all the ways I have failed him.”

Grantaire opened his mouth to argue more, but closed it again when he heard a soft snore coming from the other Grantaire, and he shook his head again. “Good luck,” he whispered before turning to leave the other Grantaire to sleep off the alcohol.

He had no idea if the other Grantaire would even remember the conversation when he woke up.

But he hoped he would.

And regardless, he knew he would never forget it.

----------

He had barely taken two steps from the Corinthe when he almost ran smack into Enjolras. “Enjolras,” he gasped, before hesitating. “It is you, isn’t it? Not, uh, some other Enjolras?”

“Considering it’ll be well over a century before cloning is invented…” Enjolras said with a tired smile, and Grantaire sighed in relief. “I’ll take it you also met your doppelgänger?”

“If that’s what you want to call him,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “What would you call him?”

Grantaire considered the question for a minute. “Weird as fuck,” he said finally.

Enjolras laughed before glancing over his shoulder, his smile fading. “C’mon,” he said, taking Grantaire’s hand. “We need to get out of here. The National Guard will be attacking soon.”

They walked together in silence for a good distance until Enjolras judged them relatively safe. “Here,” he said, shouldering a door open. “We should be safe in here.”

“You can’t just break into someone’s house!” Grantaire hissed, even as he followed Enjolras inside.

“I’m not,” Enjolras told him. “Didn’t you see the sign outside? This building is abandoned. Now c’mon, if we can get up to the roof, we should have a pretty good view.”

Together, they headed up the stairs; from there it was a quick scramble up to the roof, Enjolras pulling Grantaire up after him, and they sat down together. “So, what, we’re just going to watch ourselves get killed?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras sighed. “Believe me, if I could think of an alternative…”

He trailed off and Grantaire sighed, resting his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “It was weird, wasn’t it?” he asked softly. “Meeting different versions of ourselves. Seeing what we could have been like.”

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “My other self didn’t believe me, at least not at first.”

Grantaire laughed lightly. “Strangely enough, the other Grantaire believed it immediately.” He nudged Enjolras gently. “Who’d’ve thought that I’d be the believer and you’d be the cynic.”

Enjolras half- smiled. “Certainly not me,” he agreed. “Speaking of, what did you and the other Grantaire talk about?”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “Not much,” he said. “A little bit about what’s going to happen. A little bit about what he should do if it does happen.”

He didn’t specify what the ‘it’ was that he was referring to, but Enjolras seemed to understand, since he nodded slowly. “And what did you tell him?”

“That even if there is nothing that he can do to stop it, being with you in the end is enough.”

“Grantaire…”

Enjolras’s voice was pained, but Grantaire just shook his head. “Don’t,” he said.

“But there is so much in your life worth living for—” Enjolras started, his voice heated.

“Of course there is,” Grantaire said easily. “A million things to live for. But the only thing in my life worth dying for is you.”

Enjolras ducked his head but didn’t try to argue further. After a long moment, he turned to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Grantaire tilted his head back to kiss Enjolras properly before asking, “What about the other Enjolras? Did you tell him that he would, y’know, fail?”

Enjolras squinted toward the horizon and the sun that was slowly starting to break over the buildings. “No.”

Grantaire lifted his head off of Enjolras’s shoulder so that he could look at him. “So you lied to him?”

“No,” Enjolras repeated. “I told him the truth. Just...not all of it.” He sighed, glancing back over at Grantaire. “I told him that no matter what happens on the barricade, he will have done his part in changing the world.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “I’m not sure I would call that the truth.”

Enjolras gave him a ghost of his usual smile. “Yeah, well, as already discussed, you always were a cynic.”

“In all other lives besides this one, anyway,” Grantaire said, setting his head back on Enjolras’s shoulder. “So now what?”

Enjolras sighed, wrapping an arm around Grantaire’s shoulders. “Now we wait, I guess.”

It was over almost as quickly as it began, and even though they were shielded from witnessing the worst of it, Grantaire still shuddered at every cannon blast or gunshot they could hear. When it finally died down, Grantaire glanced up at Enjolras. “Is it finished?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Enjolras just shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure.”

Suddenly, there was one final barrage of gunshots that sounded through the stillness of the early morning, and then…

They woke up.

----------

It somehow hurt even worse than before, though Grantaire wasn’t sure that was physically possible. “Ow,” he croaked as a bunch of EMTs loaded him onto a stretcher.

“He’s awake!” one of them called before leaning down to tell him, “Sir, there’s been an accident. Your balcony collapsed. We’re taking you and your friend to the hospital.”

“Don’t—” Grantaire started, though his voice was muffled by some kind of mask over his mouth.

The EMT shook her head. “Don’t try to talk,” she told him.

But Grantaire reached up with a shaking hand to pull the mask off just enough to tell her, “Just...keep us together.”

She replaced the mask and squeezed his hand. “I promise,” she told him.

Grantaire nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he passed out again.

----------

When he woke up the next time, Grantaire was in a hospital room, feeling a lot less like he’d been hit by a semi-truck. A quick glance at his hand told him it was likely whatever was in his IV that was doing the heavy lifting. “Oh good,” a familiar voice said, and Grantaire turned his head to see Enjolras in the hospital bed next to him. “You’re finally awake.”

Grantaire smiled slightly at him. “Mmm,” he agreed. “And they gave us the good stuff.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Enjolras warned, wincing slightly as he readjusted to lie on his side so that he could see him. “You broke your arm and fractured your ankle, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh, is that what those casts are for?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “How can you possibly manage to be sarcastic while on morphine?”

Grantaire shrugged, wincing as he did. “Experience,” he said dryly. “What about you?”

His eyes flickered over Enjolras’s body, but he didn’t see any obvious injuries besides some bruises and scrapes. “Cracked a few ribs,” Enjolras said. “You apparently broke my fall.”

“Figures,” Grantaire muttered. “Well, at least you’ve had broken ribs before.”

Enjolras snorted. “Yeah, I think there’s a punch card I can get. Ten broken ribs and the eleventh one they’ll set for free.”

Grantaire laughed, though he stopped when it made his own ribs ache. Enjolras half-smiled. “Thanks for catching me, though.”

“Anytime,” Grantaire said with a wink that too quickly turned into a wince.

Something shifted in Enjolras’s expression, and he hesitated before asking cautiously, “Did you, um, did you have a dream while you were...out?”

Grantaire blinked, sluggish memories slowly coming back to him, images from a dream he couldn’t quite remember, like they were just out of reach. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, I did. Something about…” He thought about it for a long moment before snorting a laugh. “Something about the June Rebellion, of all asinine things. Clearly I’ve been spending too much time with you.” He looked over at Enjolras, tracing his features with his eyes. “You were there, I think.”

Enjolras managed a smile. “You were in my dream, too.” He paused before asking, “Was yours a happy dream?”

Grantaire shrugged and winced. “We were together,” he said simply. “That’s enough to make any dream happy.”

“Good,” Enjolras said. “I just...I didn’t want you to have another nightmare.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I think…” He frowned slightly. “Don’t ask me how, but I think I’m done with those dreams now. Like something happened in my dream that made it….I dunno, ok somehow.”

“Yeah?” Enjolras asked, watching him closely.

“Or maybe I’m just high as balls on morphine.”

Enjolras laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably more like it,” he said. “You should get some rest.”

“So should you,” Grantaire said with a yawn. “Besides, there’s something I gotta do first.” He stretched his hand out from his hospital bed toward Enjolras.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked.

“Trying to hold your hand, you dolt,” Grantaire said sleepily. “Since I can’t hold all of you right now.” Enjolras hesitated and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Do you permit it?” he asked sarcastically.

Enjolras scowled but nonetheless took his hand, lacing their fingers together, and they stayed that way until both of them fell asleep again.

Together.

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corie-the-writer · 3 years ago

Text

Ignite - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Chloe could not move from her seat next to Matt Casey. Her hands were trembling in her lap waiting on news about Kelly. The entire firehouse was in the waiting room, along with Adam Ruzek, who had called Hank to let him know what was happening. Chloe buried her face into her trembling hands trying to hold onto the images of that morning she had shared with Kelly. Praying to God that he would be okay. After what felt like hours, Doctor Will Halstead had came out to speak to everyone. Chloe couldn't move from her seat, afraid that if she had stood up she would fall over. The woman was thankful that her partner had moved to sit next to her as Will cleared his throat to speak. "He is conscious and stable." Will started out and Chloe let out a small sob and instantly relaxed, "He has a torn rotator cuff, several broken ribs, and a fractured knee. He did suffer from smoke inhalation." Will explained and Chloe wiped her cheeks. The co-workers all mumbled a thank god, and Chloe put her head back into her hands to take a deep breath, not seeing Will Halstead approach her. "Chloe, Kelly is asking for you." Will spoke causing Chloe to look up and give him a nod, "I'll give you a minute and then take you back." Will added, causing Chloe to mumble a thank you. . . Chloe had felt her legs shaking as she walked with Will back to Kelly's room, and her stomach began to swirl. She was aware of the doctor saying something to her, but she felt the bile begin to rise in her throat and she darted off to the nearest trash can, emptying her stomach. Will was instantly beside her. His hand on her back trying to bring her some comfort. "You okay?" Will Halstead questioned once Chloe was done emptying her stomach and gave a nod. "It's been a rough few days." Chloe dismissed seeing Will look at her with worry, "I'm fine, scouts honor." Chloe added wiping her mouth. "Let me check you over." Will stated and Chloe let out a sigh, "I wouldn't be okay with myself if I didn't." Will added. "Fine, but make it quick because Severide is impatient." Chloe stood straight and followed the doctor into an exam room a few doors away from Kelly's room. Chloe moved to sit on the small table, a headache forming from the stress of what had happened over the past few days catching up with her. "How is your head?" Will questioned, noticing the stitches. "It's fine other than having a headache." Chloe commented. "How long have you been getting headaches? Just since the injury?" Will questioned flashing a light into her eyes as she followed the pen. "Uhm, maybe." Chloe answered, "I've been getting headaches off and on the past couple off weeks. It's probably from not getting a break at work." Chloe added. Will gave a nod and then held a stethoscope to Chloe's chest to listen to her heart beat. "Your heart rate is a little high." Will commented, knowing Chloe for quite some time he had saw a difference in her appearance and wasn't sure how to bring up the next question, "Is it possible that you could be pregnant?" Will questioned and Chloe let out a laugh. "I mean, there's always a chance but I don't think so." Chloe answered, "I've always had weird periods, and stress plays a big factor into that." Chloe commented. "Would you mind if I ran some blood work just to be on the safe side?" Will questioned and Chloe groaned. Even though she was a detective and not a doctor, she was sure that she was not actually pregnant. She also knew that Will would not leave her alone until she humored him. "Fine but I expect a beer when it's all said and done." Chloe commented, then watched as Will went to grab the equipment to draw her blood. . . Chloe had gently knocked on Kelly's hospital room door and then slowly opened it to walk in. Chloe's eyes landed on him laying in the hospital bed with a black brace on his shoulder, and a brace around his knee as he laid recline in the bed. "C'mere baby..." Kelly opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening to see Chloe standing there. He took in her appearance, still looking like she had that morning they left his apartment. He had noticed the bandage on her arm, and then scanned her face, seeing tears start to build in her eyes, "C'mere Chlo..." Kelly watched as she walked towards him, moving to the bed side of his un-injured shoulder and leg. He reached out for her carefully and she laid her head on his chest and began to cry, "I'm fine..." Kelly assured her. Chloe cried for a moment the last few days catching up to her, and wiped her cheeks before looking to Kelly, "I was..." Chloe breathed out, "I was eating lunch with Ruzek and I got a picture text of your trucks at the fire from the unknown number, and I went there..." Chloe shook her head, "I heard Chief scream your name and I just... I never want to feel that again." "It's part of the job baby." Kelly spoke gently, "I felt like that when you came back from the undercover job." Kelly commented, "It's so hard seeing the woman you love with bruises from and blood all over her beautiful face and not be able to do anything about it." Kelly explained and Chloe lifted her head at his words. "What?" Chloe questioned. "I wanted to tell you a different way, but after today, I just...I love you." Kelly spoke quietly, his hand going to cup her cheek, "You are the first thing I think about when I wake up, when I go into a burning building I remind myself to come out in one piece so I can see you again." Kelly continued, "This morning, I just kept seeing your face, knowing that if I had the chance to get out, I would tell you that I'm madly in love with you." "I love you too Kelly." Chloe leaned forward to kiss his lips gently. Kelly had convinced Chloe to lay in the small hospital bed with him even though she had tried to protest but with one playful frown, Chloe had climbed into the bed carefully as she laid her head on his chest. "What happened here?" Kelly questioned to the band aid on her arm. "Oh, Will wanted to run labs." Chloe commented, "I ended up getting sick before coming in. The stress of the past few days, then everything that happened this morning." Chloe explained, "He thinks I'm pregnant, which I told him it was highly unlikely." Chloe added, never filtering anything with Severide before, so she wasn't going to start now. "What if you are?" Kelly questioned and Chloe paused for a moment. "I'm not really sure." Chloe admitted, "I don't want to freak out about it when we don't really know anything. Sort of like let's cross that bridge when we need to." Chloe added causing Kelly to chuckle, knowing just exactly how Chloe was, not wanting to worry about what ifs, she had been like that for as long as he had known her. "Is he suppose to let you know?" Kelly questioned and felt Chloe nod her head against his chest. . . Later that evening, Chloe had woken up to Kelly talking to someone, causing her to flutter her eyes open. Chloe spotted Will Halstead sitting in a chair next to Kelly's bed with a chart in his hand. "Sorry if we woke you." Will spoke with a soft smile causing Kelly to turn to kiss her forehead. "It's fine. I was starting to wake up. What time is it?" Chloe questioned. "It's going on six in the evening." Will replied, "So I got your lab results back. Chloe immediately sat up a little, making sure to avoid putting any pressure on Kelly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked to Doctor Halstead, "Do I get to go drink a beer?" Chloe questioned causing Kelly to furrow his eyebrows in confusion at the statement. Will let out a small chuckle, "Unfortunately no, not for another nine months." Will stated, "Your HCG levels were extremely high. According to the levels you're about seven weeks pregnant."

#Kelly Severide #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x oc #kelly severide one shot #kelly severide x reader

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years ago

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towers for your honeycomb chap 2: more meany pants tony

part one

content: tony’s being a dick again, mention of Peter’s Family Problems, confined spaces, smoking, @carelessannie is a character and Has A Boyfriend That Is a Real Person I Know, tony calls peter a turtle, crying

word count: 1.5k // square filled: locked in a closet!

song for this chapter here -> that’s not a good excuse - eli.

It was late, it was cold... mid-December nights were usually slow, but not no-car-in-sight-for-hours slow. Peter didn't handle any of those well on their own, but all three?

Working with Tony the entire time didn't do much to help, either.

They'd clocked on together, they'd be clocking off together - it was his worst nightmare. There wasn't anything to do, either - they'd already finished half of the closing list and every single chore. Annie had FaceTimed her boyfriend after finishing her chem homework - hell - the girls'd made a snowman outside the front of the stand, for fuck's sake!

Time was barely crawling. It made Peter irritable - apparently, it made Tony irritable, too.

⁘|||⁘

Annie hung up her FaceTime call with Sebastian, excited at the prospect of food. She turned, ready to take orders from the three that were now in front of her. "Okay - Panda Express - what is he bringing us?"

Courtney piped up first. "I'll just do another of what you're doing, A." She went back to her phone, more interested in her boy of the week than the rest of the conversation.

Annie typed it into her texts, looking back toward the boys. "You two - what is he getting you?" Tony spoke next. "I'll do the same thing. I'm easy." Peter scoffed a bit at that, covering it poorly with a cough. Annie shot him a look. Don't start shit.

"Peter, anything?" She knew him too well to ask. "Nah babe, I'm gonna eat at home."

That suddenly got Tony's attention. "What, you're not eating? We still have two hours left, and you look like you're about to fall over." Perfect Parker timing, his stomach growled - audibly enough to justify Tony's comment.

Peter shoved past him, making his way toward the back. He didn't want to engage - he wanted to- to- to text Resa, pour himself into some chores, maybe dive into a snowdrift - literally anything but continue the conversation.

Tony on the other hand... he didn't know when to stop. "What's your deal, Parker? The man is bringing us food, on his own dime. You really gonna be rude enough to refuse?"

Peter closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. "It doesn't matter what my deal is, Tony - maybe I just don't like Panda. Maybe I don't want something that heavy on my stomach. Maybe my mom has food waiting for me at home. You don't know shit - so why don't you just leave it alone?" Mmm a bit harsh, Parker, take it down a notch.

Tony scoffed. "We both know you don’t have anything waiting for you, anywhere, Parker. Quit talkin' big and just accept the generosity."

Both Courtney and Annie gasped at that one. It was common knowledge around the stand that Peter's home life was off-limits. Hell, everyone's was - leave your shit at the door applied to everyone else's shit too. Apparently, Tony didn't get the memo.

"Okay, nope. I'm not listening to this conversation. Both of you, fridge!" Courtney - taller and stronger than both of them - grabbed the boys, practically tossing them into the walk-in. The door slammed behind them, something jamming it from the outside.

Her voice was muffled, but they both understood - they weren't getting out until they figured this out. They'd been fighting off and on for months, and it was causing serious issues in the stand. The girls were uncomfortable - sure, it was fine if they were separated during shifts, but that couldn't go on forever.

This just happened to be everyone’s final straw.

Peter pressed his forehead into the door, not wanting to face the other man. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned on spending his evening - and now that he found himself here, he was going to do everything he could to avoid avoid avoid any further confrontation.

His mouth hadn’t caught the memo.

“That’s two.” Shut the fuck up.

He couldn’t see them, but he could practically hear Tony’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Two what?” He was still seated, from what Peter could tell. At least he wasn’t about to get his ass beat.

“Two apologies you owe me. Me and the girls. For being rude, and talking shit in the stand.” God damn it Peter, shut your mouth!

Tony scoffed. “You’re still on about that? Come on, Parker, can’t you just let it go?”

He tried. Peter tried really, really hard to hold himself back, he did. But it just... it wasn’t like him, to take shit like this. To allow someone like- like- like Tony Stark to make his life a living hell. Mob connections be damned, he wasn’t going to take it anymore. It was exhausting, and Peter was tired of coming to work every day dreading his shift.

He got up, turning to face Tony. He might’ve been shorter than him normally, but with Tony sat on the foot-tall milk crate, there was quite a difference. It was childish, but it made him feel like he had the upper hand.

“You- you- you can’t keep pushing me around like this, Tony. You’ve been a dick to me for months, and I’m sick of it. All I wanted was one stupid, little apology, and you can’t even give me that!

“I left you alone! I tried to make our shifts together easy, I stayed out of your way! I begged Courtney to never schedule us or rotate us together. Do you know how difficult that is?? Especially in a stand this size, Tony, it’s nearly impossible.” He was near tears at this point, voice close to breaking.

“And then you have the audacity to come here, in my stand, and talk about my- my family - which was not fucking okay, by the way. It just- it’s so cruel, Tony! I’m done!

“I tried to be nice, I really did. But you make it so fucking difficult. So forgive me for not being able to just let it go.”

⁘|||⁘

Peter was always an ugly crier. Snotty, red eyes, uncontrollable shaking.

He was also an angry crier. The two tended not to mesh well.

It didn’t help that people tended to not take him seriously anyway. He was small, entirely not intimidating. Couldn’t hurt a fly. The second you get him even remotely upset, and he bursts into tears?

He wasn’t expecting sympathy from Tony.

⁘|||⁘

He was done sobbing by this point, but the damage was done.

He’d thoroughly embarassed himself in front of the man he’d just... just demanded so much from. It wasn’t his lowest moment, but it was close. Nice going, P.

Peter was convinced he couldn’t be locked in the fridge with anyone wor-

There was a hand on his shoulder.

His head shot up, grabbing Tony by the wrist. “Don’t touch me!” It came out louder than he’d intended, and the look of fear written on Tony’s face did make him feel a bit bad. Peter hadn’t let go. “Just- don’t- just ask first, fuck.”

He released his grip, turning to dig his head back into his arms. He’d tucked himself into the far corner, drawing his knees up around him so he could get as far from the door as possible. He wanted to sink himself straight into the floor, mesh with the concrete, never show his face at work again -

But there Tony was, looking down at him like he was a startled puppy.

He plopped himself down next to Peter, facing in toward the center of the fridge. He tilted his head, making contact with Peter’s left knee. “Would you look at me?” Gentle.

Peter sniffled, trying to clear his nose. He knew he wasn’t the most presentable right now - wet spots soaking both of his sleeves, nose probably bright & cherry-tinged. He shifted, just barely peeking past his forearms.

“There we go.” Peter sniffled again.

Tony looked like there was a war going on inside him. Peter’d never spent this long looking at him - certainly never this long at his eyes. There was so much to them, so much hurt and understanding he’d never seen before. So much he recognized.

Tony was drawing circles into his shin, now, steady movement bringing him back to the present. “Come on, little turtle, come outta that shell for me.”

Peter’s eyebrows drew together. “’m not a turtle.”

Tony laughed. “What, then? Hermit crab? Clownfish? What else hides when it’s upset?” It was a sad attempt at breaking the tension, and he knew it.

Peter wasn’t phased by it, either. His glare stuck.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. No animal nicknames. I got it.” He smiled as his hands came away from Peter’s body, pulling up in a defensive position. “Plain ‘ole human insults, then, promise.”

Peter let out a huff. “How hard was that?”

“Was what?”

“You said sorry.” Oh.

“I... I guess I did.” Tony’s hands came down. He pushed himself to his feet, crossing toward the door. “Consider it an accident.” His entire demeanor had shifted - he was back to his normal, standoff-ish self.

Whoever Peter’d spent the last couple of minutes with was gone.

“N- Tony I-”

“Forget it, Peter. Seriously.” He pushed at the handle of the fridge door, thankful it was free to open. He bypassed the girls, grabbing the rest of his shit and tearing out the door. The cigarette barely lit with how fast he made the trek to his truck, lighter burning the side of his thumb.

When did he get so soft?

Fuck.

tag list: @longlivestarker @bluestarker xoxo

#sfsummerbingo21 #starkerfestivalsevents #starker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #.mine #.fic #i wrote all of this save the last bit of dialogue a week ago #i just couldn't find a place to end it #i found a place apparently #coffee shop au #more enemies babey

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jawabear · 4 years ago

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Fix it (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Who wants some depressing smut? I know I do! (Note the sarcasm). So here is a sad Frankie smut. Because that’s the only thing I’m good at writing. Enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: angst, smut

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of drugs, drinking, crying, cheating, sad!sex, happy resolve tho (I think).

Summary: He messed up really bad, and he wants to do whatever he can to fix his mistake.

Frankie hadn’t meant for her to find out this way. He was going to tell her eventually. But he wasn’t exactly angry that she had now be witness to the truth. He only wished she wasn’t so angry. But her anger was justified.

“(Y/N) please” he said quietly “just...calm down”

“You expect me to be calm Frankie?!” She yelled throwing her hands out to the side “you slept with another woman! You fucking lied to me!”

“I-I know. It was a mistake. A stupid fucking mistake. But I was drunk. I was angry. I was-“

“Drugged up?” She said folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t mean it really, it was just something she said in the heat of the moment. She knew he was clean. Or at least, she thought he was. But when he didn’t reply and just looked away even more anger and sadness began bubbling up inside her “you were?” She had never sounded more hurt in her life. She had never been more hurt in her life. All this time she had though he had stopped, that she had helped him through his dark days. But clearly she hadn’t.

She ran her hands over her face and through her hair as she turned away from him, trying not to collapse in sadness, anger and frustration. Her eyes were streaming with silent tears as she tried to compose herself but she couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“(Y/N)...I’m so so sorry-“ he tried quietly but she stopped him by putting her hands up.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies Frankie” she said slowly, slowing her breathing down. Her eyes closed for a second as she let out a deep breath “I just...when does the lying stop?” She sighed.

“It stops now. Right now” he walked towards her and grabbed her arms. She tensed at his action but he didn’t move away from her, he wanted to be as close to her as possible. “I never should’ve lied in the first place. I’ll tell you everything. Everything you want me to tell you. Just...please listen to me...”

He looked at her with desperate and sad eyes. She didn’t react to his request. She just stood there looking at him, her body still tense as she gently rubbed her arms, more to give himself comfort. “After our fight I was...just so angry. With you and with me. I went to the bar and just...drank. I went back to my truck and started looking for something. I didn’t know what at the time but under my seat I found some...stuff. I didn’t even know I had any more, I though I got rid of it all. We did together. We got rid of it. If I was sober I would’ve got rid of it straight away but I was so drunk that I...I couldn’t control myself. Do I did it. And I went back into the bar and there was this girl. I just wanted to forget everything. But I was too scared to come home to you after I had...after what I did. She-She made the first move and I just...went with it...”

He cringed at his words not being able to look at her any more. Hearing it aloud he could see how wrong it all was. He knew it was already one of the worst things he had ever done, but having to admit it made him realised just how terrible it really was. “And so I slept with her. I didn’t ask for her name and she didn’t ask for mine. I left as soon as I could and I just...sat in my truck for hours. I somehow managed to get to Pope’s house and that’s where I stayed”

She didn’t say a word as he told her everything. She still just stood there and listened and watched. She watched as the feelings of guilt, regret and shame clouded his eyes. She listened as the same emotions poisoned every word he said.

“I-I don’t want your forgiveness. I don’t want you to say you forgive me. Any more than you want to hear me say I’m sorry. Because I know you don’t. What I did was wrong and I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for what I did to you. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness anyway. I don’t deserve anything you give me...” he slowly managed to lift his gaze to meet hers again as he stood up straight and let go of her arms taking a step back from her.

This distance between them was only slight but it felt like they were both on either end of the earth. “Whatever you want me to do, I will. I’ll do anything. If you want me to leave..I-I will. And you’ll never see me again. I want to do anything and everything I can to at least try and make it up to you because I love you (Y/N). I love you so much”

She wrung her hands together anxiously as they both just stood there for a moment. She started to cry again, opening her mouth to say something but no words came out at first. So she tried again. “I-I d-don’t want you to leave Frankie” her voice was quiet, if not for the painful silence in the room, he wouldn’t have heard her. She walked over to him and slowly placed her hands on his cheeks, his hands lifted to grabbed her wrists to keep her hands there for as long as possible. “I-I just want...” she paused for a moment as she looked into his beautiful brown eyes. “You...” She said “I just want you”

“You have me (Y/N)” he whispered “I’m all yours. I’ll always be yours”

She slammed her lips against his. His hands moved from her wrist and he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him while her fingers found their way into his hair as she continued to cry. “Promise me..” she mumbled against his lips “that we’ll tell each other everything” her fingers were desperately grabbing at his hair. She couldn’t part her lips from his but she carried on talking “and we never fight like that again”

Frankie’s hands were just as desperate as he gripped the back of her shirt tightly in his hands as he deepened each kiss “and that we talk about everything...that we hide nothing from each other...and that we love only each other”

“Yes (Y/N)” he mumbled against her lips. “I promise. I promise everything to you”

“Me too Frankie. I promise everything to you. I love you so much Frankie. Don’t ever leave me” she sobbed.

“I won’t. I’ll never leave you (Y/N)” he managed to lift her up, although it wasn’t that difficult considering the weak state she was in from all her crying. He got to his knees and gently laid her on her back on the floor leaving him to hover above her. She didn’t argue as she felt one of his hands slipped between their bodies and into her shorts to rub his hands against her making her moan into his mouth.

“Oh Frankie” (Y/N) whimpered. He removed his hand from her, but his lips stayed in place letting her take the lead. He tugged down her shorts along with her panties and unzipped his jeans, pushed both them and his boxers down his hips slightly.

(Y/N) instinctively opened her legs a little wider and allowed him to slip himself into her. They both let out shaky moans as he began to slowly push into her. He moved so gently and touched her so softly. Tears fell from her eyes again as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He removed his lips from her and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you so much” he whispered followed by a quiet moan as her walls squeezed around him slightly. “I’m so sorry”

She moved her hands to his cheeks and tilted his head down slightly to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He took her hands from his face and linked his fingers with hers before leading them to the floor above her head where he held them as he gently thrust into her.

“I love you too” He moved his kisses down to her neck, burying his face there as he ever so slightly picked up his pace. The head of his length brushed against the sweet spot inside her over and over again making her moan loudly and her end draw closer, quicker then it ever had before. Her moans a began the face into silence as he pulled her over the edge into the sea of pleasure. “I forgive you...” she whispered breathlessly.

His grip on her hands tightened so much that they began to shake. His entire body began to shake as a sob broke free from him. His body was confused as he came inside her. His mind conflicted on whether to feel pleasure from his climax or sadness from his cries. He let out a sort of strangled moan before collapsing on top of her and crying into her neck. She managed to pry her hands from his tight hold and bring then to card gently through his hair in a comforting manner.

For a while, they said nothing. He just lay on top of her crying his heart out and she comforted him as best she could. But then he spoke again, his voice was small, sad and broke, but she managed to make out the two simple words, “Thank you”

29/12/20

Taglist: @linkpk88

#frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales fanfic #triple frontier #angst #smut #pedro pascal #fanfic

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