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firefly464 · 4 years ago

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The Real World - Chapter 7

did i have to google symptoms of ptsd and do a solid hour of research for this chapter? Perhaps. Do I regret it? Nahhh it was fun :D

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now

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~~~

When Tommy woke up the next morning, every muscle in his body ached. God damn it, this was why he hated working out. Who the hell in their right mind actually enjoyed it? It was just fucking stupid. Sure, he was much stronger and healthier in the SMP world than he was at home, but the past week of not doing anything had taken a toll on him. He still didn’t understand how the other Tommy had gone through so much effort to work out. Maybe he actually had been a psychopath.

“Ughhhhhh” he groaned, remembering his promise to George. It was too early to go and talk to Wilbur, much less tell him that he was from another fucking universe. From the look of things, it appeared to be around 10-11 in the morning. Whatever. It was still too early to deal with this.

~~~

Ten minutes later, Tommy stood outside the entrance to a long, underground tunnel. He hadn’t actually had a chance to visit it yet, but he knew that at the end of the tunnel was a small, underground bunker that everyone had been living in for over a week now. He could remember digging out the tunnel the day before the big war stream. The day before he had been forced into a world that wasn’t his own. The day before he was forced to leave his family and friends, and unable to say goodbye.

Tears started to well up in his eyes. No. No he couldn’t lose control of his emotions now. He had to talk to Wilbur. Crying wasn’t going to help with that. He had already grieved over his lost life. It was time to focus on the present. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes, and stepped in.

He was maybe halfway through the long tunnel when the deep, haunting sounds of a bell echoed throughout the cavern. The sound was low, almost too low to hear. That didn’t exactly matter. It may have been low, but it was loud. Loud enough to cause Tommy’s eyes to vibrate. He stumbled back, clutching his head. He felt like his skull was about to burst. It was like someone had hooked up a speaker to the inside of his brain and played the lowest note they could at max volume.

Almost as quickly as it had started, the sound cut out. The young blonde was left on the ground in the fetal position, shaking and trembling. The tears that he had tried so hard to keep from spilling over were now streaming down his face. “What the actual fuck. What the fuck was that. What the fuck is going on,” he muttered desperately, “Christ almighty I just want to go home… I want to fucking go home.”

“Tommy? Are you alright?” A voice asked, cutting through the fog in his mind. Tommy looked up to see Wilbur himself standing over him, looking very concerned.

“W-wha? Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just a bit startled. What the fuck was that?” he said, standing up and brushing himself off. He stumbled slightly, still shaky from the overbearing sound.

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed as he placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to steady him. “It was the bell. You know, the one that they ring whenever someone new shows up? Are you sure you’re ok?”

“O-oh! Yeah, yeah of course. The sound must have just shocked me a bit more than normal,” he quickly replied, trying to make the lie sound convincing. “Why on earth do they have to make it so loud?”

His friend didn’t look convinced, but didn’t continue to press for answers. Instead, he gladly took the change in subject. “I swear, you ask this every time it goes off. It's just part of the enchantment.”

“Since when is there an enchantment for that?” Tommy muttered under his breath as the two of them walked into the fresh air. He took a deep breath, unbelievably grateful to not be trapped in the suffocating darkness anymore.

“What were you even doing in the tunnel anyways? I thought you hated it in there.”

“Oh, uh, I was looking to speak with you about something…”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Perhaps you could tell me now?”

Tommy shook his head quickly. “No, it can wait until after this. I’m sure this is more important.”

The two men walked in silence for a bit, neither one quite sure of what to say. As they climbed the walkway that connected L’Manberg to the DreamSMP, Tommy couldn’t help but marvel at how incredible the world around him looked. Sure, he had seen it all before in-game, but there was something different about seeing it all in person. Something different about actually walking down the wooden path. Hell, even his little hobbit hole base looked different in person. He couldn’t help but stare at it as they passed, earning a strange look from Wilbur.

They turned at the fork in the road, heading down towards the dip in the wooden path. Tommy could feel his heartbeat quicken as they approached. He knew that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, but just standing in that spot was enough to make him panic. Hell, the planks beneath his feet were still stained a deep red from his blood, despite someones obvious efforts to clean it. This was the same spot that he had stood when his friend had shot him in the heart. This was the spot that he had stood when he had been forced to leave everything he knew behind.

A hand rested on his shoulder. Tommy looked over to see Wilbur giving him a reassuring smile. “Hey, it's alright. Next time, we’ll be sure to change the meeting spot,” he assured him.

Tommy felt a wave of gratitude towards his older friend. He hadn’t even needed to say anything and his friend could tell exactly what was wrong. It was nice, to say the least.

That's when he finally looked at the group of people that had gathered on the bridge. Tommy felt his breath catch in his throat. As he stared at the newcomer, Tommy found himself face to face with his friend Jack Manifold.

“Jack? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on. Had he been transported like Tommy and Dream had? Had he found a different way to enter the SMP world?

However, his friend just stared at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

Tommy swore under his breath. He had forgotten what Tubbo had told him. People would show up in the woods sometimes with no memory of how they got there, or what their own past was. All they knew was their own name, age, and how to survive the world around them. Any other memories were gone completely. Family, friends, homes, none of it mattered. It was all just gone.

He tried to cover up his mistake with an excuse, but the damage had already been done. Everyone was staring at him in shock.

“Tommy,” asked Tubbo, “Tommy did you remember something? Do you know this guy?” his eyes were alight with excitement and hope.

Tommy made a big show of grabbing his head like it hurt “I… I thought I did. It’s nothing, never mind.”

Tubbo’s shoulders slumped in disappointment “oh…”

Dream and George were both staring at him, asking a silent question. Tommy nodded ever so slightly, showing that he did in fact know Jack. Wilbur watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, slightly glaring at Dream and George and shooting a questioning look at Tommy.

He shrugged it off, trying to act casual. He was going to have a lot to explain later.

George glanced to Wilbur, then back at Tommy, once more asking a question. Tommy shook his head, trying to communicate that Wilbur didn’t know yet. He sighed, and looked disappointed. Tommy raised his hands in defense, earning another strange look from Will.

‘One week’ George mouthed silently. Tommy nodded. He had one week to tell Wilbur, or George would do it for him.

~~~

Tommy rummaged through the closet in his room, trying to find clues about who he was in this world, and what sort of part he needed to play. So far, he hadn’t found much. There were mostly just bins of old clothes. He knew that the strange device on his desk likely held mountains of information, but even just looking at it made him want to throw up. It brought back too many painful memories of what Dream- no, what he had done.

“You alright man?” Tubbo asked. Tommy jumped in surprise, but quickly shrugged it off. He had nearly forgotten that his friends were there. Tubbo was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. Wilbur had claimed the chair.

As Tommy looked to his friend to reassure him, he noticed something strange. “What the hell is that?” He asked, pointing to the strange object.

“Uh, a sword?” Tubbo replied. It was the foam diamond sword that Tommy had owned for years. Why was he so confused by it?

A bark of laughter escaped his friend as he went over and picked up the sword. “Please, this isn’t a sword. You couldn’t hurt a fly with this thing, even if you tried”

“It’s… it’s not for actually fighting. It’s just a toy,” Wilbur said, his brow furrowed in thought.

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right? A sword isn’t meant to be played with. It’s a fucking deadly weapon. God some people…” he muttered as he threw the foam toy into the bed and continued to dig through the closet.

Tubbo and Wilbur looked at each other in concern. Since when did Tommy give a fuck about weapons? Much less swords.

“So uh… Tommy, what exactly happened to you?” Tubbo asked, trying to change the subject. Wilbur shot him a glare and shook his head, trying to get him to stop. Who knew if Tommy was in any sort of condition to talk about what had happened to him.

However, Tommy just shrugged. “Dunno. I can’t exactly remember any of it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He really couldn’t remember anything from the past week. He just wasn’t exactly telling the whole truth.

Wilburs eyes narrowed. That was complete and total bullshit. One look at the young teenager and it was obvious that something bad had happened. Something that he was desperate to escape.

Tubbo on the other hand, just looked concerned. “Really? You don’t remember anything at all?”

“Nope.”

“What about beforehand? Do you remember anything from the stream at all?” he asked, once more ignoring Wilbur’s glare.

“Uhhhh, the what?” Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He had no idea what they were talking about, much less what had been going on before the swap happened. He would have to play dumb. It was honestly his best bet right now. “It's all a bit fuzzy. Maybe you could jog my memory a bit?”

Tubbo glanced at Wilbur, as if only now seeing how his plan could possibly go wrong. Wilbur just shrugged. If Tommy was asking, then he figured it was fine. “We could just pull up some clips. It would probably be easier.” He spun the chair around and faced the computer. “What's your password?”

“My wha…?”

Wilbur typed something in and waved his hand “Nevermind, I’ve got it” Soon enough, he had pulled up the most popular clips from the stream. The one at top was obviously the one where Tommy had vanished, but he figured that Tommy wouldn’t exactly want to see that. So instead, he went to the second most popular one. The clip of Eret betraying them.

Tommy stepped closer to the screen, fascinated by the flashing and glowing lights. His breath caught when he saw the thumbnails for the clips. That was… That was his home. But it was different… It was blocky, and weird. But there was no denying the fact that it was his home. “What the fuck…” he whispered softly.

“You do remember the SMP, right?” Wilbur asked as he pulled up the short video.

“Home…” That was when he finally noticed what clip had been pulled up. The starting frame was a shot of them all following Eret down a long tunnel. Tommy felt his heartbeat start to quicken. No, this couldn’t be what he thought it was. That would be impossible. His hand went up to touch a scar on the side of his neck that was no longer there. Of course it wasn’t there. This wasn’t even his body.

The clip started playing. As he watched, Tommy was forced to sit down on his bed in order to keep from passing out. It was all too similar. The dark tunnel, Eret’s reassuring voice, him and his friends following like lemmings. He couldn’t watch. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fucking right. He could feel tears start to flow down his face. It was all coming back to him in a massive wave.

The way that Eret had promised he had a safe place to go. The way they had all been herded into the small room like cattle, no way to run or hide. Eret’s face as he hit the button in the center. The sound of the pistons releasing. The sharp sting of the iron needle being stabbed into his neck. The way he had lost all control over his own muscles and collapsed on the ground. Dream stepping over each and every one of them, taunting and jeering. The white mask that had shown no emotion. Only a sadistic, simple smile. It was too much. He couldn’t fucking handle it.

“S-stop! Make it stop!” he cried out, gripping his hair. His eyes were shut tight, but tears still flowed freely from them. He was terrified that if he opened his eyes, he would see the porcelain mask. It was coming for him. It was never going to leave him alone. Dream would never let him live in peace. He was curled up in the fetal position on his bed, rocking back and forth.

“Tommy?! Tommy are you ok?!” Someone asked. He didn’t know who. It sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel, faint and distant. He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder. It was Dream, it had to be. Dream was here to finish the job. He was here to kill him finally. His eyes shot open as he kicked whoever it was that was touching him in the gut and scrambled back. He needed a weapon. He needed to defend himself. His hands desperately grasped at the nightstand, trying to find something, anything that he could use as a weapon. All he found was a couple of pencils. Whatever, he would make it work.

“Tubbo, go get his parents, quickly!”

Who were they talking about? He didn’t have parents. It must have been some stupid code. “NO!!!” He screamed. He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him. He wasn’t going to just sit there while someone tried to attack him. He wasn’t going to sit there uselessly again while those around him got hurt. Not again. Not ever, ever again.

~~~

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bisexualcrowley · 4 years ago

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SFW Headcannons- Lucifer

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This fucker is TOUCH STARVED, always wanting to be touching you in some way, whether it be full on bear hugs while cuddled up at night or a simple hand on your forearm when you’re sitting in the library

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Lucifer can the most dramatic, annoying motherfucker ever to grace the earth but he makes it fun. Being friends with Luci means constantly joking around, pulling pranks and really just enjoying yourselves with no limit.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

When you’re sleeping, Lucifer prefers to lay on his back with your body snuggled up on top of him and your head burrowed against his neck, but just for cuddling? Little spoon. Little spoon all the time, he just lives for the feeling of his back pressed against you with your arms tucked around his waist.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Much to your amusement, Lucifer’s an absolute garbage fire when it comes to cooking. The number of times you’ve come back to your motel room after a hunt to find that he’d nearly burnt the building down trying to fix you something to eat is astounding.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If it was just a fling, Lucifer would probably just straight up end things or if he really didn’t care, ghost the person, but if it was a relationship he really cared about he would sit his s/o down to talk it through, kindly explain to them why things have to end.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Once he finds the one, Lucifer absolutely wants to settle down and fully commit to his partner, but isn’t too keen in the idea of marriage for a number of reasons, the most prominent being that he’s practically immortal and the details would just make things complicated

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Once he really truly trusts you, Lucifer lets his softer side show, both acting far less tough than he is around the Winchesters and treating you delicately, afraid that he might mess something up and drive you away

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Lucifer puts on his tough guy exterior when he’s around others, but when he’s alone with you all he wants to do is tuck himself up in your arms and hold you

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Luci’s afraid of it at first, afraid to be rejected and afraid that he’d end up regretting it, but when the time comes when he can’t keep himself from confessing his feelings, you meet him with a kiss and immediately he knows he had nothing to be afraid of

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Lucifer gets jealous FAST, this man cannot stand to see another guy paying too much attention to you, always showing up and sliding an arm around your waist, or pulling you into a kiss that would be more than inappropriate in public to show everyone you’re his

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He loves to kiss you everywhere, but the ones that bring him the most joy are the the times he presses his mouth to yours in a soft, loving kiss that ends before it has the chance to grow more passionate. He always loves every way you kiss him, but when you hop up to give him a peck on the tip of his nose in excitement he can feel his heart swell

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

It’s laughable how clueless he is when it comes to dealing with children. It’s clear that he learned nothing from Nick about how to act around kids, and the few times where he doesn’t avoid them the interaction is painfully awkward, ending with an embarrassed Lucifer and you and the child laughing your asses off.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cuddles, giggles and soft kisses that almost always turn into Lucifer whining and flashing you his puppy-dog eyes when you try to get out of bed, insisting that he’s more important than whatever it is you have to do that day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It’s always a surprise with Lucifer, some nights are spent out bowling or causing whatever mischief comes to his mind, some nights the years alone in the cage get to him and turn him into a horny bastard, pretty obvious what you guys do then. Most nights though, and arguably your favorites are the nights spent in domestic bliss, cuddling in bed while watching a movie or watching Lucifer cheat at board games. The little things, that make you smile.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lucifer’s time in the cage messed him up more than he cares to admit, and from that he hesitates to flat out share things about himself, preferring to avoid the topics until whatever it is comes out accidentally or you figure it out from fragments of information.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lucifer has a quick temper, but the rare time that he snaps at you he apologizes right away, never wanting to take his anger out on the one person he cares about.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers the little things that make you smile more than anything else, your favorite flower, favorite snack, favorite movie, anything he can use as a pleasant surprise for you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Back when he was still hallucifer, there was a day when Dean had let you drive the Impala. It wasn’t a long drive compared to the usual length for you and the brothers, just a couple hours, but you had been thrilled, immediately plugging your playlist into the car and grinning as your favorite song blasted through the speakers. Lucifer remembers Dean groaning, beginning to protest but being cut off as you cut him off with a mocking laugh of “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” Lucifer had cackled at Dean’s look of annoyance, but his laugh died off when you started singing along with the music. You seemed so happy, happier than he had seen you before in the year he had been with Sam, and the beauty of the situation shocked him. Sam of course was baffled at the sudden silence from beside him, having grown used to Lucifer's constant annoyance and burst into laughter at the look of awe on the devils face, but Lucifer didn’t care, he was focused on you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Lucifer likes to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat to feel secure. To him, it’s proof that he’s not back in the cage, you’re real, you’re there together and that he’s safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He usually doesn’t need to put much effort in, every little thing he does for you always turns out to be worth so much more than he planned

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Luci is absolute trash (pun not intended) at picking up after himself, always “forgetting” to move a plate from the table to the sink or leaving piles of clothes on the floor

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Every vessel he’s using always manages to look more attractive with Lucifer inside but Nick is objectively the most attractive, and Lucifer knows it. He doesn’t put much effort into his appearance on most days, knowing he looks hot without trying, but he does take the time to put together a good look the times where you’re going out, always managing to match his suit to whatever outfit you put on.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before meeting you Lucifer thought he was doing great on his own, but after getting to know you? He can’t imagine what it would be to be alone again, you’re a massive part of him and he never wants to give it up

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Lucifer likes to drape one of his wings over your shoulders as a show of affection

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who doesn’t want to joke around with him, or someone who acts too controlling. Far too much like his dad, thank you very much.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

When Lucifer takes the time to sleep, he sprawls out across the entire bed. When you first join him under the covers he’ll pull you down to snuggle up against his chest and every so often he’ll keep an arm tucked around you, but more often than not his arms and legs end up stretched across the entire expanse of wherever he’s laying

#lucifer #mark pellegrino #lucifer headcanons #sfw headcanons #sfw alphabet #lucifer x reader

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shigarakis-fifth-hand · 5 years ago

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Iida x Reader Mha Scenario

Iida with a partying s/o

It was Friday night, Mina’s birthday, and she was insisting on having a good time. “Come on! It’ll be fun! My mom is out of town for work so we’ll have the entire place to ourselves! We can invite 1-B too, it’ll be awesome!” She exclaimed as everyone nodded back in response. “Awesome! There’s like a pool and we have a large front yard. I can totally get the led lights and put them out! It’ll be awesome!”

Denki high fived her as he turned to Y/n. “I’ll bring my speakers. The entire house will be shaking once I plug them in.” He explained as Mina smiled. “Sounds great! We just have to tell everyone to come around sixish, and then give them my address!”

Y/n, Denki, and Mina went around the dorms that day handing out slips of paper with the address and time to everyone they saw. Even Monoma and the other people from 1-B that they didn’t know, except for Mineta. Mina didn’t want him anywhere near her house.

When the afternoon came, Denki and Mina left to go set up, leaving Y/n on the couch. She didn’t want to come, and honestly, she had overworked herself at training and needed an hour to herself. That’s when Iida came around the corner, flailing his arms and all. “L/n! As the class representative, I must ask you why you dear friend Mina is throwing a party at her home.”

You sat there, eyes wide with confusion as you began to explain to him. “Um, it’s her 17th birthday so she wants to go crazy, you know? Haven’t you ever been to one? She wants to have fun with everyone else.” He sighed, putting his fingers to his forehead as if he had a headache. “And what do you mean by crazy? If I go to this party which I will, I will act like the parental guardian in this situation whether you’d like me to or not.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, standing up to walk over to him. “You do whatever your little heart desires. All I ask is that you have fun yourself. If you’re having fun, I’ll be able to have fun.” You patted his shoulder before going to the kitchen to get a snack. “You’ll have fun... if I have fun?” Iida asked himself quietly, unable to understand why his enjoyment meant anything to you. He was just a classmate to you, right? You two had never gotten close before.

The night of the party came, and quickly it turned South. Iida was the first to arrive, followed by all the boys from the class, and then eventually everyone came except for you. Iida began to get worried, until he saw an Uber drive up and your h/c hair pop out of it. Iida stood off the side as you walked in, watching how everyone around you erupted into smiles and yells as they went to go talk to you. Even the 1-B kids who you had never talked to before wanted to conversate with you.

You did look really pretty in that dress after all, and you had braided your hair back into two French braids. It looked as if you had done them yourself, which was really impressive. That’s when he saw something in Mina’s hand that made him totally lose control. It was a beer. Iida walked up to her and swiped it from her hand angrily. “Ashido! You are underage and I forbid you from ruining your life.” She rolled her eyes and snatched it back from him, sticking her tongue out.

“Are you going to report me? Look around four eyes, everyone has one! Are you going to ruin all of these people’s hero careers because you can’t let lose. Y/n, here you go!” She tossed you an unopened one, which you caught immediately. Had you done this before?? You didn’t look the bit shocked. “Think about it Iida.” Mina whispered, before walking towards you with open arms for a hug.

Iida stormed off angrily, walking around the house multiple times to check everything out. But slowly everyone was drinking, and then more and more people kept going upstairs. Iida felt as if he was losing control of the situation, and was trying his hardest to fix everything. But nothing was working. He was out of control, and he didn’t know what to do.

That’s when he saw Monoma leading you upstairs, and before he could control what his heart was doing, he used his quirk to run and grab you from him. “Hey, dude! What do you think you’re doing?!” Monoma yelled at him as Iida looked at you. You looked pretty, but it was obvious you were wasted as you found it hard to keep your balance and kept bobbing your head back and fourth. “I refuse to let you take my dear classmate upstairs when she isn’t control of her body.”

You began to push away from Iida, fighting him before he threw you over his shoulder and walked out side, holding you still. “You have had too much L/n. I’m calling an Uber, and I’m taking you back to the dorms. You have no business being out and about in such a vulnerable and unaware state of mind.” He lectured you as you groaned in annoyance. “Iidaaaa why can’t you just be fun?” You asked, still drowsy as he scheduled for a car to pick you up.

“I cannot have fun if I’m constantly worried about your safety. Surely you know that Monoma didn’t have good intentions. I must keep you safe.” Iida explained, watching a car pull up. “Andddd to thinkkk I thought you were hotttt.” You murmured, falling asleep in his arms as you fell asleep. Iida froze as the car pulled up, trying to respond but seeing that you were asleep.

Blushing, he picked you up from his shoulder and put you inside the car, before getting in with you. What had you meant? Did you mean it? No, you were just drunk. Right? Of course... God he was going to overthink this. The car ride was short and sweet, Iida letting you lay down as your head was on his lap. He happily undid the tight braids in your hair and gave you a scalp massage, knowing that alcohol gave people headaches.

When they arrived at UA, Iida graciously thanked the driver and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the dorm as you slowly woke up. “Iida? What happened?” You groaned tiredly, feeling the effects of the beer kick in to your head. “You got drunk at Mina’s party. I am taking you home.” He looked down, seeing you smile with your eyes closed. He couldn’t help but blush, walking faster.

He entered the dormitory to find it entirely empty. Nobody would be there for hours, except you and Iida. The very thought made him blush, and want to run to his room and hide from you. Dirty thoughts filled his mind, and they needed to be shut out by sleeping. He rested you on the couch and went to grab you a glass of water.

“Why are you being so nice to me Iida? You hate me...” You whispered, your voice raspy and tired. “I could never hate you Y/n. You’re too kind of a person and too good of a student for me not to respect you. Forgive me if I made you think that.” You smiled, grabbing his hand as he put the glass next to you. “You should be sweet more often Iida. I like you like this.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he sat next to you, letting you hold his hand. You looked pretty, sleeping peacefully with your hair wavy from the undone braids. As you fell asleep, he couldn’t help but stare at you until you were quietly snoring. Refusing to leave you there, he picked you up again and carried you to his room. It was before curfew, so your door wasn’t locked. He walked into the dark room and laid you on the bed, putting the light blanket off of you.

“Iida! Wait.” As he looked at you, you pressed your lips to his. You two stayed there for a minute before you pulled away, looking into his eyes. “W-what was that L/n?” He asked, his eyes wide and his face very red. “Go out with me Tenya. Tomorrow, let’s go downtown and have some fun. You won’t have to worry about me.” You explained as he couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d like that L/n. I’d be honored to take you out. But for now...” He pushed you back on the bed and fixed the blanket on top of you. “Goodnight... Y/n.” He walked out and closed the door, closing his eyes and smiling happily. He walked back to his room in a daze of happiness and overwhelming lust. His heart felt warm, and fuzzy, something he had never felt before.

#tenya iida #iida tenya #iida x reader #tenya iida smut #abo tenya iida #iida omegaverse #iida tensei #iida #mha tenya #mha imagines #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha headcanons #bnha #x reader #bnha x oc #x oc

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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The Other Side of the Door

summary: Bucky would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. Even if it took him to the bottom of the ocean. pairing: Bucky x reader word count: 8.8k warnings: canon level violence, drowning (again? yes) a/n: this was written for a writing challenge for a user who was exposed for plagiarism sooooo.... but anyway..... this is based off the score of Taking a Stand - Henry Jackman (Captain America TWS).

Bucky never wanted to hurt you like this. He never wanted to be the reason for the tears burning on your cheeks or the violent trembling of your hands as you so desperately tried to reach him through the steel lock of the door between you, to change his mind before it was too late.

He didn’t want to do this. It was imperative that you knew that, but you were so furious, so pain-stricken and terrified to see that he didn't have another choice. He’d lost his recklessness, his willingness to throw himself headfirst into flames and bullets the day he met you. He had something to fight for now, something to live for, and he had no desire to throw it away. It was the last thing he wanted, and still, here he was.

Trapped in a cold, empty control room aboard a sinking cruise liner with his hand on the lever holding open the only door to your escape. The handle broke in the fight between him and the dead man currently laying at his feet; the ricochet of a bullet rendering the lever useless without a hand to keep it latched. Everyone else got out in time, but not you. No, you rushed back into the flooding halls, dripping wet with ocean water in search of him.

He was the one to lock the door, trapping himself inside. A barricade between you. A lifetime.

The devastation in your eyes, the betrayal, nearly crumbled his resolve, but he held his ground. He’d break your heart a thousand times over if it meant you survived this. He’d done so much evil in his life, saving yours might be the one decent thing he could do before the water took him under, back to the ice where he belonged.

***

T W O H O U R S E A R L I ER

“I don’t like this,” Sam grumbled into his headset as he gripped tight to the strap above his head, glancing down out the open door of the helicopter to the rocking of the ship below, sitting upon unsettled waves and shockingly forceful gusts of wind.

“You don’t like much of anything, do you?” Bucky shot back. Sam rolled his eyes at him, though the moment he turned back to the ship, Bucky winked at you, smile spreading over his lips.

“There’s a reason I wasn’t in the Navy, Barnes,” Sam frowned. “Don’t like water.”

“Well, don’t get wet,” Steve laughed, clapping Sam on the back and causing him to flinch and grip onto the handle above him tighter.

You held your laugh under your breath, eyeing Natasha as she smirked in amusement from her seat behind you, completely unphased by the crash of the water below. You reached out to Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder encouragingly.

“No one is going in the water, Sam,” you reassured him, nudging Bucky in the side as he was clearly mouthing the opposite and threatening to throw Sam in himself.

Sam pursed his lips, nodding at you in appreciation, before he shot a glare at Bucky.

“You should lay off of him,” you warned quietly, curling up against Bucky’s side as he held onto the beam above with his left arm, securing you to his waist with his right.

Bucky chuckled. “He’s knows I’m messing with him.”

“Well, be careful about it before you two might start another civil war,” you teased.

“We certainly don’t need that again,” Nat commented from her corner, legs crossed and sharpening a knife casually as the helicopter swung with the wind. She winked, tapping Steve with the toe of her boot, only to laugh when he turned around, not having heard either of your comments, causing you both to laugh.

Steve narrowed his eyes, glancing at Bucky for support but only earned a shrug in return.

“Alright team,” Steve said in his ‘captain voice’ as Bucky often referred to it, “we all know what the plan is here. Get the hostages and get the hell out.”

“And the bad guys?” Natasha inquired, the flicker of the reflection on her knife clear as day.

“We’re not taking prisoners,” Steve responded shortly. You all knew what that meant. He turned to Sam. “You’ll go in first, get a good read on the heat signatures. Bucky and I will follow and clear a path for Y/n and Nat to get to the hostages.”

Nat held her hand out and you slapped her palm down against hers, grinning at one another. You always did make an exceptional team.

It was rare Steve assigned you to work directly with Bucky, but neither of you minded that much. It was hard to see him in the field and though you knew he was more than capable of handling himself, it didn’t ease the worry you felt as enemies charged at him with knives and guns with the intent to kill.

Once, when you’d been partnered, he nearly compromised an entire mission after an assailant almost got a knife into your stomach. Thankfully, you swerved away from the blade at the last second and brought him down yourself. Bucky’s intervention wasn’t needed but he’d left his post to help you and he had Steve berating him for weeks for that mistake.

“So, I’m thinking when we get home, maybe I take you to that place out in Queens you like so much,” Bucky said casually, as Sam jumped out the door of the helicopter, wings out and flew down to the ship below.

“The one with the spicy calamari?” you asked excitedly, stomach growling at the thought.

Bucky nodded. “’Course. We have an anniversary coming up, you know.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms tight around his waist as he held you secure against him in the unsteady movement of the helicopter. “Do we now? How long’s it been again, Sergeant?”

“Don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, “could be seconds, weeks, decades. Can’t tell how fast time is moving when I’m with you.”

“Oh my God, will you two saps turn off your coms if you’re going to be that disgusting?” Sam’s voice came through the speaker, following by a gagging sound that had you and Bucky doubling over in laughter. “We all know it’s been three years. Three years of hell!”

“That’s very kind of you, Sammy,” you replied, struggling to contain your laughter. Nat was smiling to herself as she holstered her knife and even Steve was shaking his head, grinning over at Bucky as he waited for the signal from Sam.

“Maybe I’ll turn off the noise dampener in our room tonight and show you what your hell really sounds like,” Bucky shot back, winking at you and dipping down to kiss your lips, his right arm still snaked around your waist and holding you flush against him.

“Someone restrain that man before I personally fly back up there and toss him in the ocean!”

“Sam, focus,” Steve warned, though he was smiling, trying to suppress it with no use.

Sam grunted, though the muffle of the wind on his mic had stilled. He must have landed down on the ship. “We’re clear. Cap, you and the massive pain in my ass can head down.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, reluctantly stepping away from you to line up at the open door with Steve. He turned back over his shoulder.

“See you in a second,” he smirked, leaning over to kiss you again before he jumped out the door, Steve close behind him.

You watched as they blended into the dark of the ocean and the night sky. Natasha came up beside you, trying to get a decent look herself.

“You think they’ll ever learn to use a parachute?” Nat smirked, handing you a backpack to shrug up over your shoulders. You shook your head, laughing.

“Definitely not. They enjoy the adrenaline too much.”

Sam’s voice coughed through the coms, alerting you and Nat to make your jumps. Without a second of hesitation you threw yourself out of the chopper and into the open air. It was cold against your face, but your suit as designed by Tony Stark and he had more than a few alterations to ensure that while the material remained breathable, it also shielded you from the impact of the wind. The churn in your stomach through the freefall was an exhilarating rush.

You released the parachute, looking over to Nat who had just done the same, and began to steer the cords to lead you down to the deck.

From above, you spotted Bucky and Steve fighting in hand to hand with a few watchmen out on the deck while Sam made his rounds in the shadows to ensure your cover was secure. It was nothing they couldn’t handle. You knew Steve would have his back without fail, so you worry for him decreased significantly when they were together.

By the time you reached the deck, the last of the guards were taken out and lying unconscious on the ground. Bucky reached up and steadied you as you landed and planted your feet to semi-solid ground. Wasting no time, he kissed you again because he simply could, and helped to unclip the buckles of the backpack to free you of the parachute.

“Hey Sammy,” you laughed, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to find him standing with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes rolled so far back to his head, you wondered if they might get stuck there.

“We’re on a mission. Can you not make out for like, ten minutes?” Sam groaned, waving his hand at you. Though as he was turning to make his way back to his rounds to watch for threats, you spotted a smile on his face. He was all talk and cared a lot more for Bucky that he’d ever admit aloud, and though he said it once to you and swore he would deny it to his grave if it came to it, he was happy you and Bucky found each other. It was just simply more fun to constantly berate the two of you.

“You ready?” Steve called back quietly, preparing himself by the door.

“Coming, pal,” Bucky replied. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and jogged his way over to Steve. He turned back to you and gave a single wink before Steve opened the door and the disappeared behind it.

“So, three years, huh?” Nat smirked, arms folded over her chest as the two of you waited patiently listening to the soft grunts of the boys as they made their way through mercenaries to clear your path.

You shrugged, smile burning in your cheeks. “Yeah, seems that way. Went by fast.”

“Glad he finally learned to accept some good in his life,” Natasha said, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve really made such a difference in his recovery since he’s been out of Hydra’s control and, maybe it’s selfish, but I’m glad we all got you out of the deal, too.”

“Guess we should all thank Sam for calling out sick all those years ago and giving me the opportunity to sneak my way into Bucky’s heart,” you laughed, thinking back to the mission in Kiev where Fury had assigned you to take over Sam’s position alongside Bucky.

He was still quiet and reserved and working on earning the trust of the Shield agents on his team outside of Steve, and your wit and charm and inability to tread lightly while others kept purposeful distance started to crack at the ice on his heart. You trusted him without question and treated him like he was actually a crucial part of the team, and he was, though most of the agents largely ignored him at the time. Steve saw how well you worked together and started insisting you join their ops more often.

Over time, Bucky started to edge of out from behind the wall he constructed around himself and started falling into you. You started to seek one another out in the gym during training, started coming up with excuses to go out for food or to run into one another in briefing rooms.

It evolved to rushing down the hall at two in the morning when his mission came back later than scheduled and crashing into his arms because you couldn’t still the race in your heart until you felt the pulse of his heart beneath your fingertips. It became phone calls in the dead of night and crawling into one another’s beds to fight off the nightmares together. It went from timid touches and stolen glances to kisses in the shadows of the halls and laying bare upon his chest, wrapped under the thin layer of sheets on his bed.

“I cannot believe this is all my fault,” Sam grunted, the breeze of the wind picking up in his mic as he soared overhead.

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled, slightly out of breath. “We’re ready for you, doll. Shouldn’t be too much trouble on your way.”

“Got it, heading in now,” you responded, rolling your eyes at the way Natasha was practically beaming at you. She got too much of a kick out of your relationship with Bucky, and maybe if you weren’t so terrified of how she’d retaliate, you’d start poking holes at her less-than-subtle-more-than-friendship relationship with Steve.

Making your way down the hall, you stepped over a series of unconscious bodies left behind by Bucky and Steve. It certainly wasn’t as though you and Natasha couldn’t have handled the influx of guards yourselves, but sometimes it was nice to let someone else get their hands dirty for a change.

At the end of the hallway sat a single door. Bucky and Steve had already moved further into the ship to work on taking down the rest of the crew to avoid further catastrophe once the hostages were running loose. Tony was supposed to show up sometime in the next few minutes with an escape plan big enough to cart forty terrified passengers to safety. It was the moment between leaving this room and getting to the escape, that worried you. Civilians were... unpredictable.

You signaled for Nat to shoot the lock on the door and it snapped off with in a single bullet. The two of you pushed your way inside only to be with three guards waiting for you, all armed and ready to fire. Expecting resistance, you and Nat charged at the men, tossing aside their weapons they so clearly used as a crutch and overpowered them quickly in hand-to-hand. All three men were on the ground in a matter of minutes.

You panted, glancing up to the room full of hostages huddled together in the corner, all with tape pressed over their mouths and rope securing their hands. You tapped Natasha’s forearm, nodding to the group of people watching the two of you with wide, fearful eyes.

“We’ve got the hostages,” you said quietly into the mic, not waiting for a response before you addressed the crowd. “My name is Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Romanoff. We’re here with Shield. I need everyone to remain calm and we’ll get you out of here safely, okay?”

Quick nods came in waves through the crowd and you and Nat rushed to start working on the ropes around their wrists. The first woman you met had tears on her cheeks and a child no older than four sitting contently in her lap. Thankfully, he wasn’t gagged and bound the way she was, and he was playing mindlessly with a toy airplane, seemingly unbothered.

It didn’t take long to release the hostages and once you did, Nat started to direct the crowd to the exit. She took up the front and you held the rear, explaining to the stragglers in the back that they needed to stay ahead of you, even though their legs were worn and tired and aching.

“We’re moving out to the deck,” you said into the coms, eyeing the open hallways every time you walked past.

“Guess I made good timing then, kid,” Tony’s voice came through and you could hear the whirring of his suit through the mic. “I’ve got a getaway docked on the side of this monstrosity so get those hostages here as quick as you can before the waves start getting higher.”

“On it, Stark,” you confirmed, smiling ear to ear and checking over your shoulder for company.

Your movements were slower on the way out then coming in, seeing as you had forty people to watch over. You started to wonder where Bucky and Steve had disappeared to, when suddenly you heard a door slamming behind you. You spun around to find a guard charging in your direction and those in the back of the crowd began to scream and push their way to the front.

“Nat! I’ve got--” you dodged a punch from the guard, swinging under his arm to kick at the space between his shoulder blades until he stumbled forward, “-- company back here!”

“Me too!” she shouted back, clearly out of breath and the commotion of the hostages separating the two of made it difficult to hear the coms at all.

You yanked the gun from your holster and attempted to fire at the assailant but he was too fast for that and knocked the weapon from your hand.

“Shit!”

“Y/n! You okay? What's going on?” Bucky’s voice echoed in your ear and you could hear the strain behind it, the panic, and you knew he was struggling to keep his position with hearing your distress through the mics.

You grunted, thrown to the wall in the impact of the hit you sustained. “Nothing I can’t handle, baby.”

Before the man could take another swing, you grabbed the gun draped at his hip, released the safety, and fired two shots at his chest. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and you exhaled a breath of relief, wiping the sweat from your brow that turned out to be blood.

“I’m clear back here. Nat?” you called up and she confirmed that she had taken care of her end as well. You turned back to the crowd, hand on a young man’s shoulder and trying to calm a teenage girl who had burst into tears at the sight of blood on your face. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll get you out of here. You just need to--”

A sudden jolt ripped through the ship, shaking the floor like an earthquake as a thunderous echo bounced through the walls. The lights turned out suddenly, replaced by a soft red glow of emergency strips along the linings of the halls. The hostages were screaming. Panic was spreading.

“What the hell just happened?” Steve shouted, his voice breathless and it sounded like he was running.

“Some idiot set off an explosive in the engine room!” Sam replied, frantic. “It’s taking on water fast. Gotta move quickly or we’ll--”

Silence. You tapped on the edge of your com placed security on your ear. You froze dead in your tracks, not able to even hear the soft undertones of the buzz of the coms, and trying to ignore the concerned stares of the hostages as they turned back to you, unsettled by your obvious distress.

“Sam?” you called, but there was no reply. “Nat? Bucky?”

Nothing.

Shit shit shit.

Natasha would know to continue forward. She wasn’t that far ahead, but shouting up to her over the chaos of the hostages would only make things worse. You steadied yourself and with one firm grip on your weapon, and another urging the crowd to continue moving, you tried to ignore the shaking in your legs and the painful twist in your stomach.

You only had one directive. Get the hostages out. Meet on the escape vessel.

You could only hope the rest of the team did the same.

***

Bucky was going to lose his damn mind if he didn’t get off this boat soon. He could barely see a few feet ahead of him and the glowing red light did little to help his perception as he trailed behind Steve, picking off mercenaries like they were fish in a barrel.

They were heading to the control room to try and delay the emergency procedures the ship would automatically begin to route the moment the lowest desk flooded. The doors would start to slam shut in an effort to contain the water, trapping the hostages, along with you and Nat below deck. The fact that the coms had gone out completely didn’t help to ease the panic in his veins.

He was never a big fan of improvising.

The carpets were already starting to soak wet with water under his boot, which meant the floods of water wouldn’t be far behind. Bucky couldn’t think straight, trying to concentration on the center of Steve’s back as they raced through the halls towards the stairs.

By the time they made it to the stairwell, taking three steps at a time as they bounded up to the higher floors, another ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes of silence, of not knowing where you were or if you were out on the loading deck like you were supposed to be, not knowing if the water had already taken you. Bucky’s hands were shaking.

Steve pushed open the door out into the hallway, and suddenly, without warning, the coms came back on.

“What-- hell ar-- we suppo-- to do?” you voice came through in scattered connection, laced with panic, and Bucky could hear the frantic cries of the hostages in the background. You must have slammed your hand against something solid because you hissed at the impact.

“Y/n!?” Bucky called out; a finger pressed tightly to his ear in hopes of hearing you clearer. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

He exchanged a look with Steve, who only nodding in encouragement. They both paused, hoping that the position they were standing in would give a better signal to you.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, relief aching through his name. “Bucky, the doors shut on us! We’re trapped and we’ve already got water at our knees.”

A jolt swept through his chest and he tried to contain the shaking in his hands as he urged, “okay, okay, baby listen to me. I don’t know how long we’ll have the coms on for, but I’m heading to the control room. I’ll get the doors open but I need you to keep me updated on where the water is.”

“I can do that,” you replied and though Bucky could hear the smile in your voice, he could tell it was forced. Your tone was too tight, too tense. You were scared and it wasn’t something that sat well in Bucky’s chest. It was unlike you.

Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow down the hallway leading to the control room and the two of them sprinted as fast as their legs would carry them. It shouldn’t be too far, he told himself, but that didn’t seem to ease his stress when your voice came through not even two minutes later warning him to was up to your hips. Ocean water in the dead of night and you were half submerged and trapped behind locked steel doors. The temperature would take you before you even had a chance to drown.

“It’s cold,” you whispered, teeth chattering, and he wasn’t sure if he was even meant to have heard that but scared him unlike anything else.

“Five minutes, doll. Give me five minutes,” Bucky urged, shooting a terrified look over to Steve with an urgency that ran like ice in his veins. That was, until they came upon an adjoining hallway where dozens of the ship’s mercenaries stood in wait, clenching onto weapons and holding their ground.

Steve froze instantly in his tracks. “Shit.”

One by one the mercenaries started to aim their weapons at the two of them, and Steve shoved Bucky hard in the chest, throwing him out of the line of fire.

“Get to the control room!” he shouted, charging at the closest of the guards he could get his hands on. Yanking a gun from one of the men beside him, Steve shot a single bullet at each of the two men in his path before he moved onto the next. “I’ll take care of them! We need those doors open, now!”

Bucky nodded frantically, not wanting to leave Steve on his own but knowing he had no choice. He rushed down the hall, spotting the control room door and a shaky breath of relief in his chest, even as he heard the echoes of gunfire and hoped it was Steve on the right end of the weapon.

“Bucky,” your voice cried out, and Bucky knew he was losing time.

“I know, I know, I’m almost there,” he replied, shoving his shoulder against the door and thankful it was unlocked. He scrambled up to the control panels, skidding on his boots from the excess water on the tile floor until he located a lever. “Found it.”

Hand gripping onto the latch, he moved to yank it back when suddenly the discharge of a weapon fired and a sharp burn scraped his right arm. Bucky dove back, hissing at the scrape of the bullet as his hand latched onto his arm, holding back the blood as it seeped through his fingers.

“I’ve got company,” Bucky muttered into the coms. “Give me a second.”

“We're running out of seconds, Barnes!” Natasha replied, out of breath, and panic coursed through his veins wondering why it wasn’t you that answered him. “Water’s at our shoulders. We’re swimming in it!”

His eyes shot over to the lever, knowing it would only take a second to lift the hatch but the guard stood in his path; larger than the others with thick Kevlar securing his frame against the raid of bullets and a dozen weapons strapped to his chest. He was twice Bucky’s size with scarring on his face and evidence of previous injuries healed over crudely.

Knowing he had little time to waste, Bucky charged at him, knocking the man to the ground. He tried to reach up for the lever while he pinned the guard to the ground but it slipped from between his fingers as he was yanked back by the straps of his jacket.

Neither you or Nat were coming through the coms anymore as he threw fists and dodged blocks from his opponent. Part of him hoped the signal had died out again but he could vaguely make out Steve’s grunts from his own fight a few halls down and the breeze of Tony’s and Sam’s mics in the wind outside.

The guard fired his weapon several times in Bucky’s direction and he was able to escape all but one of the shots, leaving him with a second hit, this time on his thigh. Bucky yanked the knife from his holster and swung it at the man, panting and exhausted by the time it implanted itself in the man’s neck and he slumped down to the floor in a mess of blood.

Bucky hulled himself back up to the control panel and yanked hard on the lever. Relief surged through him as it pulled back and he could hear the steel doors on his own floor opening.

“Good work, Barnes!”

Bucky felt no relief at Stark’s voice.

“Where’s Y/n?” he replied, breathless.

“Her and Nat must have lost their coms in the water. I can see them beyond the door now,” Tony confirmed.

Bucky nodded, trying to convince himself this was over, it was going to be okay and he’d get the hell out of here soon, but as he released his hand from the lever, it snapped back down to the panel and the doors slammed shut along with it.

“What happened!” Sam shouted. He must be with Tony now.

Bucky shook his head in shock, panicked, only now noticing the fray of the wires left behind in the damage down in his fight with the dead man on the ground beside him. It was preventing the lever from staying open on its own. A startling realization rushed through him and he swallowed back the bile in his throat.

“N-Nothing! I’ve got it,” Bucky replied, thankful your com wasn’t working because you’d be able to detect the lie in his voice, the fear, and he couldn’t have you knowing what he was about to do.

***

Cold didn’t even begin to describe the trembling ache of ice on your skin. The toddler in your arms was crying, clinging onto you with wet hair dampened and sticking to the sides of his face. Rushing over to the edge of the ship where Tony managed to arrange for a SHIELD cargo vessel to load the hostages onto, your legs were numb under you and you nearly stumbled and collapsed if it wasn’t for Tony’s sudden grip on your shoulders.

He took the boy from you, though the child’s hands were gripped anchor tight to your suit and it broke your heart to pry him away. Breaths burning in your chest from the cold, you spun around looking for your team.

Nat was helping hostages onto the boat, winging out her hair in the free moments between holstering terrified passengers aboard. Sam was flying above and taking out stray mercenaries before they even had a chance to cross the deck of the ship and get within range of you. Meanwhile, Tony was shouting orders to the few SHIELD crew members he brought along.

Then suddenly, Steve raced through the open door, blood covering most of his face and with several open cuts and wounds on his suit. He was limping, deep red seeping from a wound on his stomach. He looked like he’d been through hell and you noticed instantly that he was alone.

“Steve!” Nat called, rushing towards him and checking for damage.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, brushing off the bullets lodged in his body as if they were nothing. He glanced around the open deck before he spotted you, worry filling his eyes. “Where’s Buck?”

You froze, heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t a question he was meant to ask. “He’s not with you?”

Steve shook his head. “N-No, we had to split up. He was supposed to get the doors open and get the hell out. He hasn’t been responding on the coms for the last few minutes.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and with a single look in Natasha’s direction, your name on her lips in a plea to not do what she knew you were about to, and you sprinted back into the heart of the ship. No hesitation. No concern for the water that awaited you.

You could hear Steve and Tony calling your name, but you had disappeared into the ship’s halls before they had a chance to restrain you to the deck.

***

“What the hell do you mean she ran back inside?!” Bucky shouted, gritting his teeth and wiping away the sweat that had started to fall onto his forehead. Ice water was at his ankles and he was burning hot.

“Oh, so now you respond to me!” Steve snapped, more panic in his voice than anger. “She ran back to get you, you idiot! Where the hell have you been? This ship is on its way under!”

“You don’t-- Steve, you don’t understand,” Bucky shot back, hand shaking. He glanced down to the water at his feet, knowing it would only take a matter of minutes before it was at his waist. “Someone needs to come get her. I can’t-- I’m not leaving, pal.”

There was a pause on the other hand. Bucky’s hand was cramping from how tight he was holding the lever.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s voice was small, afraid.

“Doors won't stay open without me,” Bucky replied as flatly as he could. Any trace of emotion in his voice and he would have broken down on the spot. He had to be stone cold or he’d never get through this. “I let go of this lever, the doors shut. Someone had to stay behind.”

“Bucky, you know she’s not going to let you do that.”

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps splashing through the water in the hallway alerted to your closeness and in a panic, he slammed the emergency button on the end of the panel. The door to the control room closed on itself, locking behind several steel clasps.

“She won’t have a choice,” Bucky exhaled, wincing as you rushed up to the door with a relief etched into your smile that burned like lit gasoline in Bucky’s chest. As you tried to get the door open, only to find it lock, your smile quickly faded, brow furrowing, confusion in your features.

“What are you doing? We have to go!” you shouted through the door, shouldering it in an attempt to get it to budge though it would do no good. The door was made of solid steel and you were so incredibly human. Exceptional and skilled beyond most, but still human.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Was there anything he could say to you to make this any easier? Was there anything that could possibly convince the love of his life to leave him behind?

“Sam,” Bucky choked out, clenching his jaw in an attempt to will the tears away. You hadn’t made the connection yet. You didn’t know what he was about to do. “Sam, I need you to get Y/n out of here.”

“On my way,” Sam replied without hesitation.

You shook your head, still working at the door you’d never be able to open. “Bucky, let’s go! I don’t need Sam to get me out of here if you’ll just come with me!”

“Sweetheart, I’m-- I’m not leaving.”

You froze, movements stilling, though that only lasted a second before you shook it off, switching yourself back into combat mode because Bucky knew you well and you couldn’t stand to hear what he was trying to tell you.

“Shut up,” you argued back, yanking hard on the latch of the door. “Don’t say that. I’ll get you out of there.”

“I’m the one that locked the door.”

The flash of heartbreak, confusion, anger, that ran across your face almost made Bucky’s knees give out.

“What did you say?” you voice was barely a whisper and it stilled echoed throughout his chest.

“This lever is the only thing giving you a way out of here. I let go and you’re trapped. The emergency doors all come down again and you’ll drown.” His voice wasn’t as strong as he needed it to be, not with the way you were looking at him like your whole world was collapsing around you.

“So what? You want me to leave you here?” you snapped and when Bucky didn’t respond, too afraid of the broken cracks in his voice, your eyes widened in shock. “I’m not leaving you here to die! We’ll figure something out, Buck. We always do!”

You pulled out your gun when Bucky only shook his head in response, defeated, and you fired an entire round of bullets into the window of the door. He flinched as it cracked at the glass, but it remained solid as steel.

“Y/n, please, you have to go. You don’t have much time,” Bucky pleaded, growing desperate as the water rose to his shins. He could see you shivering on the other side, already soaked wet from the water you escaped with the hostages. Your lips were turning a shade of blue that set a stone deep in his stomach. Hair was clinging to the side of your face. Your breath was fogging the window and he was losing sight of you.

“Sam, please,” Bucky begged, voice breaking. “Get her out of here.”

“I’m on my way buddy, hold on--”

“Bucky! Don’t do this. Open the door,” you begged, slamming your palms against the glass window, your only connection to him. Your voice was breaking, cracks in the ache of your tone and despite the fractions in the glass, it remained impenetrable.

“Baby, I need you to run,” Bucky urged, shaking his head and willing the tears from his eyes. The water was at his hips. “You can meet Sam out by--”

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!” you screamed, tears blurring your vision and burning down the sides of your face, mixing with the ice-cold water dripping from your hair.

He glanced over to a vent in the corner of the room to find water dripping out from the cracks, like a damn about to explode. The room would be flooded in a matter of minutes.

“I love you,” Bucky said suddenly, knowing it might be the last time.

“N-No! Stop, just--- just come with me! We’ll-- We’ll get out in time,” you cried, shoving your shoulder against the door and Bucky was certain you’d find dark blue and purple against your skin by morning.

“We won’t,” he said softly, longing to reach out and hold you. “Let me save you, baby. Please. Let me do this one good thing.”

He’d never seen such fear in your eyes before.

“B-Bucky, please--”

He couldn’t tell if the cracks in your words were from the cold or the lump in your throat, but Bucky could hardly gather enough willpower to look at you. He couldn’t stand to see the tears on your face and the red in your eyes, the devastation, the betrayal. He loved you, more than he’d ever loved himself or anyone else, and he needed to do this. He needed you to be safe, to be alive.

“I love you so much,” he said again, spotting Sam in the distance flying above the water. Relief ached in his chest and he closed his eyes, letting the tears blink from his lashes and fall to the pools of ocean water rising below him. He could hear you crying, hear the pants of your breath and the thud against the door as you so desperately tried to reach him.

You wouldn’t be able to.

“Bucky, d-don't—don't do this,” you begged, scratching at the window. You were losing energy fast, the cold of the water aching in your muscles. Sam touched down into the water behind you and you didn’t even notice. Your eyes were falling heavy.

“I love you. I love you,” Bucky chanted like a prayer as you fell back into Sam’s arms, weak and losing consciousness. He met Sam’s eyes through the window, a startling devastation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

Sam was at as much of a loss as he was. “Buck--”

“Go,” Bucky urged. “Get her out of here. Please. Just go.”

With a single nod, knowing a man’s last wish when he heard it, he kicked off the floor and held you tight to his chest as he flew above the water further down the hallway until you were out of view. Bucky’s hand was cramping on the lever, but he only needed to hold it for a few more seconds. He could hear the wind on Sam’s mic and the crash of rushing water below him.

“We’re out,” Sam reported dejectedly. None of this felt like a victory.

Bucky nodded, releasing the lever and stepping back into the room, sloshing water around his waist. He was shivering.

“Buck,” Steve called out gently, “Bucky you still there?”

Bucky nodded, though he knew Steve couldn’t see that. Everything was numb; his legs, his arm, his brain. It all felt fuzzy.

“Is she safe? Are you--” Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to keep the sob from breaking through him completely, “Are you all okay?”

“We’re-- We’re fine, Buck, but--”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky confessed, eyes focused on the cracks in the walls leaking water down into the pool slowly rising up to his chest. It wouldn’t hold much longer. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I lov--”

A rush of water.

Ice on his skin. Then, in his lungs.

Burning. Aching. Fire within his chest.

Darkness.

***

One week later and they still hadn’t found his body. He wasn’t locked in the control room where he had been the last time you saw him, hand clenched on that lever, body shaking from the cold of the water, and tears in his eyes. The divers had come up empty, searching the entire ship without a trace of the man you loved.

You tried not to picture him surrounded by the crashing of violent currents and impossible darkness. You desperately pushed away the image of him sinking into the endless abyss, hair floating around him in a halo, skin pale and blue. You couldn’t stand to think of him so alone.

This was worse, your decided, to lose him in this way; to lose him to a cruel and impossible choice to trade his life for yours. He had always thought he’d die on the end of a bullet in the field, in the line of duty. It was something you accepted for yourself, as well, though you always hoped the two of you would make it long enough to retire and let your age pull you under.

With no body, you had nothing to bury. A funeral felt pointless and you didn’t think you could stand to see the protesters outside the gates of Arlington. There would always be those on the fringe who would never accept Bucky as he was, who would only ever see him as what Hydra made him to be. He had learned to deal with it, often took it as he penance, but it was never something you got over. It hurt deep in your chest and the idea of those people ruining your final goodbye was unthinkable.

So, you didn’t give them the chance.

You sat in a black dress, legs folded under you, upon the grass overlooking the lake in the back of the compound. It was a quiet place, one Bucky often found himself in. He used to find peace in the water, watching the subtle ripples at the slightest disruption to the surface, the clear endless tranquility, the reflection of the trees above. You weren’t sure you could find beauty in it anymore. Not knowing that it was water that filled his lungs and suffocated him until his body gave out.

Steve arranged for the team to gather and just talk; a memorial of sorts amongst only those who truly knew him. You stayed silent the whole time, clinging onto Sam’s hand and staring off into the space between Natasha’s and Tony’s shoulders. You couldn’t focus on much of anything, couldn’t listen to their stories or the way Steve tried to hold back the sob etching through his chest.

Amongst the memories, you could only picture Bucky on the other side of that damn door. The look in his eyes as he watched you, knowing you’d never reach him in time. The shake in his hand and the tears on his cheeks. The defiance in his voice and the rush of heat and fire in your veins at the realization of what he was trying to do.

You hated him.

You loved him.

But everything burned in your chest and all you knew was he wasn’t here with you.

“Y/n?” a voice called behind you, urgency in tone. Sam.

You closed your eyes, though you didn’t move a muscle. You weren’t sure you could face anymore of your friends today. You couldn’t take another ‘are you alright’ or ‘can I get you anything’ because the answer was always ‘no’ and ‘Bucky.’ They weren’t answers anyone wanted to hear.

“Y/n,” Sam called again, relief upon his voice. He must have spotted you. You could hear him jogging towards you, slightly out of breath. He must have been looking for a while.

“There you are,” he exhaled, reaching down to grab you hand and tug you to your feet, but you remained still. “Come on, kiddo, you need to come with me right now.”

You shook your head. “Just let me be alone, Sammy.”

“You don’t understand,” Sam urged and when you looked up at him, he was smiling wide, with teeth. It was almost unsettling as he was still in his black suit from the makeshift memorial earlier that day. “Y/n, just follow me.”

You clenched your jaw. “Sam, please. I can’t--”

“They found him.”

You heart ached. It burned and broke. Was this better? To have a body to bury? You weren’t sure anymore. Tears slipped past your eyes before you could stop them and you brushed them aside. Sam kneels down beside you, but he was still smiling. You wanted to punch it off his face.

“I don’t-- I don’t think I can see him like that,” you muttered out, envisioning discolored skin, sunken lids, blue lips. It wouldn’t be Bucky, not anymore.

Sam exhaled, relief and joy in his voice you couldn’t understand. “Y/n, you’re not hearing me. They found him. He survived.”

“What?”

You couldn’t have possibly heard him right, breaths coming in fast and shallow, heart pounding, and Sam was smiling so wide it nearly stretched to his ears. He nodded, tugging on your hand again and your whole body was so light with shock, he pulled you to your feet easily.

As Sam led you back into the compound, keeping a steady hold with an arm draped around your waist because your legs were like Jell-O under you, he told you that Bucky was found by a fishing vessel not long after the ship sank. The men had pulled him aboard, administered CPR and brought him to a hospital off the coast of Portugal where he’d been recovering for the last week.

No one knows how he was able to get out of the control room or through any of the locked doors, but he had burn marks on his face so Tony believed another explosive went off right before Bucky’s coms cut out, flooding in water at a rapid pace but also opening a gaping hole in the side of the ship. The current must have pulled him out, sending his body to the surface long after your team disappeared.

He’d apparently been trying to get ahold of you, of the team, since he’d woken up but without a secure line and only able to access the Shield inquiry phone number, no one would patch him through, believing him to be a fraud as they were all certain he had died. He jumped on a plane over to the States the very second he was cleared by the doctors.

Sam pushed open the doors to the med bay with you still in his arms. Agents parted like the sea for you with every step, all eyes scanning you for a reaction they wouldn’t find. You were too numb for that. Nothing felt real and you wouldn’t believe Sam’s story until you saw him with you own eyes.

Leading you a room at the end of the hallway, you spotted Steve, Natasha, and Tony through the open windows of the room, huddled around the bed. Steve was sitting on the edge of the cot, laughing, while Nat stood just over his shoulders, hands running along his back. Tony was pacing, clearly lost in thought.

“Sam, wait,” you said suddenly, planting your feet before you could enter the room. Sam paused, turning to look at you with nothing but a gentle kindness in his eyes. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure he’s alive?”

“Go see for yourself,” Sam smiled softly, giving you a slight push into the room.

You stumbled in, arms folded around your waist and trying to ground yourself with handfuls of the black fabric of your dress. Steve stood up instantly upon seeing you, retreating back to the edge of the wall as he gently pulled Nat along with him. Then, Tony looked up, a brief moment of clarity amongst the dozens of equations running through his mind, offered you a smile and moved to the corner by Sam.

Sure enough, sitting at the center of the bed with one leg tucked under him, the other swung over the edge, was Bucky. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the burn marks Sam had told you about, discolored and slowly healing thanks to the serum in his veins. He wore a light grey t-shirt supplied by Shield, exposing the reflection of his left arm, and sweatpants from his room. He looked like he just rolled of out bed and so incredibly normal, as if you hadn’t just spent the last week grieving and crying and in agony over him.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips as he started to stand, taking a step closer to you, but you stepped back away from him, holding a hand up.

He froze, concern etching in his features as he shot a glance over at Steve who couldn’t offer him any help.

“Baby?”

“Can I get a minute?” you asked quietly, looking over at Sam from the corner of your eye and he ushered for everyone to leave the room, giving you space to be alone with Bucky. The moment the door closed behind them and you were left alone, you surged forward, shoving Bucky’s hard in the chest.

“You self-sacrificing asshole! What the hell is the matter with you!?” you shouted, throwing another hit in his direction that he took with ease. He held his ground, trying to grab onto your hands before you really did some damage, but gave you the release you needed. “How could you do that to me?!”

“Y/n,” Bucky started, and the sound of his voice alone broke the damn in your chest, sobs shaking their way through you as tears burned down your cheeks.

“I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea what that did to me!?” you cried, your closed fisted hits to his chest losing energy quickly. “This-- This is a fucking funeral dress, Bucky! B-But we didn’t have a body so— so—”

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered, pulling you into his arms and without the will to fight back, you fell against him with ease. He still smelled the same, though you weren’t sure how that was even possible. He was warm under your touch and you could hear his heart beating behind his chest.

“D-Don’t ever do that to me again,” you exhaled, gripping tight around his waist and you sighed against his lips as they pressed to the crown of your head.

“You know I can’t promise that,” he confessed and you squeezed him tighter, knowing he was right. “I’d choose your life over mine. Every time.”

“Well,” you sniffled, pressing your face tight to his chest so you could clearly hear the thumping of his heart under your ear, “try really hard to not be in a situation where you have to, okay?”

Bucky chuckled at that, the soft vibrations of his chest like heaven against you. He kissed your forehead, hands running in soothing motions down your back.

“Done,” he agreed, tracing patterns on the zipper of your dress. A few moments of content silence passed before he said, “I missed our anniversary, didn’t I?”

You nodded, unwilling to tell him that you’d spent the day holed up in his room, hiding behind the sheets of his blankets and crying for hours on end.

“You still want that spicy calamari?” Bucky asked sweetly, a slight laugh in his voice. “I’m sure I can convince Stark to get them to do takeout for us. I might have some extra leeway for a while after the whole self-sacrifice-coming-back-from-the-dead thing.”

You pulled back, swatting at his chest with tears in your eyes. “That’s not funny,” you whined, though you were laughing. “But, yes.”

Bucky grinned and you almost forgot about the burns on his skin and the ice water that had filled his lungs. He was warm and soft under your touch and his hands were running in patterns along you back.

“Thought we could spend the next day just eating food and watching movies,” he said, gazing down at you with the kind of radiance in his eyes that made your stomach swoon, “but without clothes, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” you laughed, pressing up to kiss him against his lips, the image of them cold and blue gone from your mind, because he was here. He was warm and alive, and in your arms, and you’ll fight him until your dying breath if he pulled something like this again.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #eliza’s 15k challenge

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gameimagines · 5 years ago

Note

I would love to see a request for Leon x s/o where s/o has a bad nightmare and calls him in the middle of the night for comfort.

Requested by: this lovely anon

Fandom: Pokémon SWSH

Notes: hope you like it! TW: detailed descriptions of a breakdown

Leon comforting s/o after a nightmare

Unfortunately, it wasn’t uncommon for your dreams to be a prison rather than an escape. You periodically struggled with fleeting, but violent nightmares. However, the one you had tonight was a lot more vivid than usual. You woke from the dream startled, hunched over with your hand vice-gripping your shirt. Cold sweat glistened over your shaking form.

A strangled sob ripped past your lips. Salty tears dripped into your mouth while images of the horrible dream flashed through your mind. It was hard to remind yourself that it was fictitious when you could see it so clearly. Plus, your empty home only served to up your anxiety. No one could hear you. No one was there to comfort you.

So you continued to cry, grasping at clothes to find someway to steady yourself. Maybe it was only for a few minutes or possibly an hour. You had no idea how much time had passed while you were in hysterics, but it felt like eternity. And you showed no signs of stopping.

The idea of bringing someone else into your breakdown, to see your moment of weakness was far from appealing. But you worried you couldn’t calm down on your own; your breathing was ragged and trying to regain control of it only further worked you up. It took a while for you to quiet your negative thoughts. You knew people cared for you, but sometimes your fears were louder than your support system. Thankfully, your boyfriend’s previous encouragements kept echoing in your head - you were loved, you were cared for, and people were willing to help you.

With quivering hands, you picked your phone up off your nightstand. Hesitation crippled you for a moment longer before you hit call. It rang longer than you’d liked, you wondered if it was useless to call anyone in the middle of the night, but at last, your boyfriend answered.

“Hello?” Leon murmured on the other side end. Your boyfriend’s voice was deep and groggy, you’d likely just woke him up. “Is everything alright, love?” It was weird for you to call him this late.

“I-I-...” your voice was a shaky as your hands. Leon waited patiently for you to get your words out. “I had a n-nightmare, a bad one...I’m sorry to wake you but I couldn’t relax and I thought talking to you w-would make me-” another wail interrupted you.

“Hey, breathe for me. Come on, in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Leon coaxed. His heart ached at the sound of your weak voice, but he was glad you called him. When your frantic breathing slowed, he continued. “I’m proud of you for reaching out to me. Do you want to talk about the dream?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You weren’t calm enough to detail your nightmare without working yourself up again. “C-Can you just stay on the line with me? Talk to me?” You heard rustling through the speaker, Leon was settling back into bed.

“Of course. I’ll stay with you as long as you need.” Leon’s words were genuine, he wanted to do whatever he could to support you. You meant the world for him and he was ready to prove it. “You know, after the Eternatus incident, I had awful nightmares every night for around a month.”

While you weren’t around during Eternatus’ return, Leon had told you the story of his encounter with the legendary Pokémon. It was traumatic for him for a bit, but he didn’t think about it often anymore. “You did?” You asked.

“Yeah. When I’d wake up I’d call out Charizard and talk to him until I could sleep again. Charizard was so grumpy the first time I woke him just to ramble to him,” Leon sounded amused as he reminisced. “But, he’s a smart Pokémon. I think he understood. What I’m trying to say is, I get it. No one wants to be alone after a bad dream.”

“I’m glad I called you.” You didn’t know at what point during the call this happened, but your heart slowed down to its regular pace. A combination of time, Leon’s natural ability to soothe, and focusing on your lover’s voice instead of your fears, helped calm you down.

“Are you going to be able to sleep tonight? I’m not too far off, I’ll come keep you company,” Leon offered. It was tempting. On one hand, you didn’t want to keep him up, but he did offer. You couldn’t deny that his presence made you feel safe.

You glanced around your room, it was clean enough for company. Leon didn’t care if your room was clean, however, the welcoming state of your room made you feel better about accepting his offer. “I’d like that, if it’s not to much trouble.” Just a little while longer and then your fears would completely dissipate.

“If it’s for you, nothing is ever too much trouble.”

#champion leon #leon x reader #leon imagine #pokemon #pocket monsters #pkmn #pokemon sword and shield #pkmn swsh #galar #reader insert #imagine #scenario #fanfic #angst #comfort #pokemon leon imagine #request

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unbelievableholland · 5 years ago

Note

Maybe tom 1 and 15 from the prompts?

A/N: Heyyyy I'm backkk! If anyone's wondering, I'm working on part 5 of Seasons of Reunions, but I kind of wanted to do the requests first. It's nice to have a different plot tbh. Helps with the writers block😅

For the requests and blurbs, I will be tagging my original tag list. For now, it will be my current permanent tag list as a default. If anyone wants to be added or removed, just tell me.

Anyway, about this request, I love the combination of prompts! It's really angsty, but tbh, I love a good angst😂

***

Here for You

Summary: No matter what happens, you're not just there with each other. You're there for each other.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, concussions and hospitals.

Words: 2,614

Prompts:

1. “You said that I’d get to have you all weekend. Why can’t you just tell them you can’t go?” - “Because it’s my job, and it’s important.” - “And I'm not?”

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

————————————————–—————

Today was when Tom was supposed to go home. He was out filming for Cherry for months, and throughout those months, you haven’t seen him at all. Even then though, he said he’d arranged a leave for the weekend.

He told you last night when you were FaceTiming. He misses you, and you miss him as well. Your longing for each other is just far too strong.

Or so you thought.

You’re currently cleaning up the house, walking around sweeping and washing the dishes. Feeding Tessa and playing with her for a bit. You took a leave for the whole week because you couldn’t wait to see Tom and because you’ve been working your ass off at work that you know you deserve a break.

You kind of expected Tom to go home about a month from now. Since he didn’t get breaks often or breaks long enough to fly home.

Luckily, he’s filming a bit closer to your house so he doesn’t really need to board a plane to get home to you.

You are currently taking a break from cleaning the house, sitting on the couch watching a movie with Tessa on your lap. Earlier, you were actually feeling a bit nostalgic so you put on Captain America: Civil War.

That movie was actually made around the time you met Tom, so seeing Tom on screen looking as young as he was before reminded you of the time he took you to set to meet all the actors and watch him do his stunts, trying to impress you.

Shortly after filming the movie, he finally got the balls to ask you out.

***

“W-would you maybe, uhh, want to go out sometime? Y—you don’t need to o—of course! I was just wondering if—”

***

You chuckle. Remembering how adorable he looked. How cute he was being that nervous trying to ask you if you wanted to go out to dinner as a date.

***

Gently, you take his hands in yours and look him in the eyes.

“Tom, I would love to go out with you”

***

The sparkle in his eyes the moment you said yes is something you will never be able to forget.

Seeing him in this movie reminded you of the time when his career wasn’t as big as it is now. You’re proud of him, really. It’s just hard going out with him anywhere. Your relationship is very much public, and because of that, you don’t go to social media as much as you did before. It’s also why Tom doesn’t want you going with him when he’s away filming. Fans can be a bit rude to you. Especially when you run into them alone.

That’s the reality that Tom forgot about. You don’t need to be with him to run into his fans. It’s somehow worse, because when Tom’s not with you, fans are a tad bit meaner. Tom doesn’t need to know that though. He’s stressed enough.

As if on cue, just when Spider-Man stole Captain America’s shield, flipped and landed perfectly on his iconic Spider-Man pose, a knock is heard on the door.

Excitedly, you paused the film and got up. Tessa quickly following you. The moment you got to the door, you unlocked it and immediately launched yourself towards Tom in a bone-crushing hug.

“Whoa! Hey there, darling”

God, did you miss his voice. You called him almost every night, but hearing his voice through a crappy speaker doesn’t compare to having him physically with you.

You hug him a bit tighter before you let go and let him in.

“Watching Captain America huh?”

You just stare. Stare fondly at him while he puts his stuff down on the living room floor.

“What are you staring for, love?”

He says this with a chuckle. The corner of his eyes crinkling the way you admired it. His smile brightening up the room, the stars in his eyes shining.

“Nothing. Just miss you is all.”

Tom’s face softens. He walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist to push you closer to his body. He puts his chin on your shoulder and both of you just sway. Taking in the moment to just be with you.

“I missed you too. M’so glad to be back with you.”

Tom sighs. These are the moments you love and you missed. Just being with him. Forgetting about everything and everyone to just be yourselves. No fans, no hate, no work. Just the love and adoration you have for each other.

He pulls back after a few minutes. His eyes just look at yours with admiration. He leans in to kiss you softly. You kiss back.

A few hours later, the both of you are just sitting on the bed watching whatever you find on Netflix or YouTube. Tessa on Tom’s lap with Tom’s head in your shoulder and your head on top of his shaved head. Thank God it wasn’t as prickly as before. You used to tease him about how itchy his head was after the buzzcut.

Everything’s perfect, you think. You’re with Tom and Tessa. The knowledge of finally waking up next to him even if it is just for one day. Silently thanking whoever gave him the permission to go home at least for the weekend.

“Uhm, hey Y/N?” Tom breaks the silence and removes his head from your shoulder to sit up straighter.

“Yes, bub?” Now you’re the one leaning on his shoulder, looking up at him.

“Remember when I said I'd be home until tomorrow?” You can tell he’s nervous. Just by that furrow placed on his eyebrows and the slightly wavering voice.

“Yeah, why?”

“I, uh— I— W-we actually need to do reshoots tomorrow for the past scenes, so we can continue the other ones on Monday.”

You take off your head from his shoulder and move to the edge of the bed while crossing your arms, waiting for him to continue explaining.

“I m-mean, I don’t need to, but it would be easier for all of us if I do the reshoots with everyone else tomorrow”

You... you feel betrayed. Lied to. Mostly because he doesn’t need to go back tomorrow but he chooses to.

“So what? You’re choosing your job over me?”

His eyes widen and he tries to touch your arm but you move away and stand up.

“N-no it’s not like that, I just thought that you wouldn’t mind since y-you know what my job is like” He moves to stand up as he’s saying this.

“You thought that I wouldn’t mind? Well I do Tom. I probably wouldn’t have if you told me sooner and if you didn’t lie about it!” You’re starting to get annoyed. You try your best not to raise your voice, but you’re too hurt to control your tone.

“Y/N, I'm sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I wanted to spend our time not worrying about anything and—”

“And what Tom?? You thought that lying to me is better than telling me the truth? I would have been grateful to spend any amount of time with you! But instead, you do this? You said that I’d get to have you all weekend. Why can’t you just tell them you can’t go? It’s not like they’re forcing you to go. You even said that you didn’t need to go!” You don’t mean to shout, you also don’t want to have tears running down your face but you’re just too hurt.

“Because it’s my job, and it’s important.”

“And I’m not?”

You slowly start to back away, more tears start to run down your tears as you try to suppress a sob.

He reaches out to touch you, to hug you, but you flinch away. God knows how much that hurt Tom, but no matter how hurt he was, he still can’t get the feeling of anger out of him.

“Y/N, I never said that! Ugh, you’re such a drama queen you know!”

That did it. You’ve had enough.

“I’m not being dramatic Tom! I just can’t believe that you lied to me and that you’re choosing your job that you don’t even have to do tomorrow over your girlfriend!”

Right after you said that, you walk out the door. Slamming it behind you. You know that you’ll have to get back to him eventually. You always do, but in the 4 years of your relationship, you never had to deal with him lying to you.

You’re not mad because he has to work. You’re mad because he lied to you about it and made you think that you could spend at least two days with him after not seeing Tom for months! He made you so happy but now, you can’t even explain the level of disappointment you have for him.

Going downstairs, you get your bag and keys. You hear Tom go after you so you turn around and face him.

“I—Tom, I-I just want to go for a walk or something. I need to get away for a while, just a few hours or so. I just need to calm down. I’ll come back later tonight.”

You say this while you’re trying not to break down so you don’t look him in the eyes. You don’t see the guilt and the hurt swimming in them, absolutely drowning him as he watches you leave the house.

About an hour later, you’re sitting on a park bench, reflecting on what just happened. Yes, it was dark and probably too late in the night to still be outside, but looking at the cloudless sky actually helped you calm down. It’s peaceful and quiet. It helped you realize that yes, you are disappointed at Tom, but it was more because you missed him so much. Wasting all this time fighting won’t help with that.

Standing up, you exit the park and walk on the sidewalk to your house. You realized that you’d rather spend your time with Tom. At least before he has to leave again.

The part of the sidewalk you’re on isn’t all that dark or eerie. It’s actually lit up by the streetlamps, and open coffee shops and bookstores.

“Hey! You’re Y/N L/N, right?”

Hearing the voice, you turn around. You see about 6 girls, maybe a few years younger than you. You’re a bit confused.

Why are they laughing?

“Uh, yeah I am. May I help you?”

Their laughs get louder. Almost like they’re laughing at you. They probably are, to be honest.

“You know, I still don’t know why Tom picked you. He could literally have anyone he wants.”

The dark haired girl shook her head and chuckled. Before getting the chance to speak, they walked past you and pushed you aside, hitting your head on a wall.

You would’ve probably yelled at them or at least fought back, if only you aren’t so disoriented to even stand up straight. You stumble forward, trying to get your phone from your pocket.

Fuck.

Out of all the things you could’ve forgotten, you forgot your phone. Reaching a hand up, you felt around the side of your head that you hit. Checking to feel a bump.

Yep. You definitely had one.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and continue to walk towards the direction of your house. Stumbling closer and closer until you found yourself in front of your door.

When did I get here? I don’t even remember the rest of the walk her. What the fuck?

Before you could even knock; or maybe you did, but you don’t remember; Tom had opened the door.

“Oh my God— Y/N! Darling— Are you ok?! What happened??”

He’s helping you inside the house right after he noticed that you look a bit nauseous and dizzy.

“Y-yeah, m’fine” You mumbled. You thought you sounded drunk.

Are you drunk? You don’t know anymore, in all honesty.

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

Your eyes widen. You’re still being held up by Tom when you reach up to touch your head. Instantly, you feel something wet and bring it to your eye level.

There is, in fact, blood.

You look at Tom with a panicked expression. His worried eyes are the last thing you see before everything goes black and you collapse.

Tom’s P.O.V

“Shit! Y/N, wake up for me, darling”

What happened to her?!

I need to call someone. Fuck.

I reach around the couch, searching for my phone.

“Haz! Harrison, Y-Y/N passed out. I-I don’t know what to fucking do! W-we had a fight, she— she went out, A-and when she came back, Sh-she had a bloody fucking head!”

I know panicking won’t help right now, but I can’t help it. I need her to wake up. I need to tell her I’m sorry. I need to tell her that I love her.

“Mate, you need to calm down. I’ll call an ambulance, just, hang tight. Keep calm, try to wake her up if you can, Ok”

“Ok”

Shit. Please Y/N. Wake up. Please, wake up.

——————————————————————

A few hours later, I’m here. At the hospital. Waiting.

Waiting for her to wake up. The doctor said that she had a concussion. There’s some scrapes in your elbows and palms as well, but the only thing I care about at the moment is that she’s okay.

After a few minutes, I feel shifting on the bed. I had been laying my head down on the mattress, trying to fall asleep, but the moment I feel her fingers move against my hand, and the moment I hear a light groan, I snap my head up.

“Y/N? Darling, how do you feel?”

She looks at me with her puppy eyes. I can see it welling up with tears, so I move gently to hug her.

“I’m sorry I lashed out like that Tommy.” She’s crying now.

God, I hate seeing her cry. I hate seeing her with a bandage around her head and in a hospital gown. I hate seeing her hurt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, love. Right now, I don’t care about anything but you. I got permission to stay with you for 2 weeks, and trust me, I won’t be leaving without you after that. Especially after I saw what those girls did you. I already contacted your work and arranged everything so you can come with me.”

I let go of her to look at her face. She smiles with more tears in her eyes.

“You really did that didn’t you? I mean, of course you did. Classic Tom.” She chuckles and sniffles for a bit. She looks adorable.

“Oh, and uh, H-how’d you know about the girls?”

“Someone caught it on video.”

A silence fills the air. Not an awkward or uncomfortable one, but one filled with love and happiness.

“I love you Tommy.”

“I love you too, darling.”

I put my hand against her cheek gently as she cups it with hers.

I lean in slowly, glancing at her lips then back at her eyes. It’s funny how easy it is to get lost in them, but if it’s with her, I don’t think I’ll ever get lost. That’s when our lips finally met.

Because the moment I look at her eyes, or feel her lips against mine, I’m not lost. I’m home.

——————————————————————

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tartagilicious · 5 years ago

Text

when we die, where do we go? [gavin]

+ this fic is for an anon that wanted an angsty Gavin fic, and also @queenvking and their request of a halloween karma inspired imagine! They don’t really figure out what Gavin’s circumstances are, but his shift still plays a big part! In addition, it was inspired by this call, gained from the evolution of Gavin’s card ‘fierce battle’. And because i took so long to write this, it’s also a semi-christmas themed one too~

→ pairing | gavin x reader (mlqc)

→ genre |vampire!au, angst w/ happy ending (ish 😳), someone’s heart is broken the usual, the mc actually trying to put her emotions aside for once in her goddamn life

→ word count | 8294 (22 pages of blood sweat and tears with a 30 minute-average reading time lol)

→ song rec | talking to the moon by bruno mars

→ note | it’s your local gavin stan here again with some hearty angst 🤠 also, originally gavin was supposed to die and then come back as a vampire (ikevamp style), but then I changed it to a coma because i’m a baby. and to make it better I did absolutely zero editing because I’ve been writing this for 2 months and just didn’t want to look at this doc any longer!! so, I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or inconsistencies~

“What are you up to?”

Gavin’s voice comes through the speaker with pressed difficulty, but his words still send relief flooding through you. From the moment you pick up the call, it marks almost a week since you’ve said even a word to him. He had left quite suddenly then, after all, and only with a vague warning that he could possibly be gone for longer than usual.

“Gavin! You finally called! Is the mission over?” You can barely describe the emotions in your chest upon hearing your boyfriend’s voice again, your smile widening as you hear him chuckle on the other end.

“It’s over.” His laugh morphs into something greater frighteningly quickly, as if he’s sighing, or even groaning.

Your brows go taut as your smile begins to falters. “You sound kind of off…”

“It’s just because I’m coming off a mission.” There’s still at least a smile hiding in his voice, but it does little to ease your arising gut feeling. “I’m tired.”

“...Am I the first person you called?”

“It’s getting really late, you’re probably anxious. So I thought, I’d call you to-”

Gavin’s voice cuts off over the line with a sharp static noise that indicates a harsh cough. The reception is bad enough that the already unclear audio is painfully fuzzy, and the combined roadblocks have worry settling deep in your stomach before you can catch it.

You bite your lip. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

His gentle laugh is tired, but portrays all the emotions he can’t voice just yet. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. Really wanna sleep all of the sudden.”

“If you’re tired, tell me where you are and I can go there right away.” You say, your worries suddenly besting you before you can even think about the words that escape your mouth.

“No, dummy.” He laughs with a familiar adoration lining the gentle sound. “It’s classified, I can’t tell you where.”

Your expression twists slightly, worry settling firmly within your chest again. “..What are you going to do?”

“My partner is close. Relax. So just, talk with me awhile. I wanna hear your voice.”

“O-ok,” Your voice falters slightly, and you try your best to cover it with a cough. “What do you want to talk about?”

The line goes quiet for a few moments, but the stillness carries a silent meaning you aren’t yet sure that you want to decipher. There’s something you aren’t picking up, you’re sure, but you have nothing but the worry of a concerned girlfriend to back your thoughts up. You quickly tell yourself it’s only natural to be nervous for Gavin, so it’s completely possible you’re just imagining things after all.

“I was wondering, are you worried about me?” He asks, earning a small and very stupefied quirk of your brow.

“On a dangerous mission like this?” You whisper, sighing softly before continuing, “Of course.”

“You know…” He pauses, the faintest sound of a grunt filling the speaker before he continues. “Ah — forget it.”

“…Forget what? Why do you always stop halfway through? Don’t you know that worries me even more?”

A moment of silence ensures before he begins again, more hesitantly. You strain your ears trying to decipher if it’s for you or for himself, but begrudgingly give up when his voice returns to normal.

“This is the first time I actually… got afraid. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? When a bullet whizzed by my ear, all I could think of was... I haven’t returned your calls yet.”

Tears pool at your lash at your boyfriend’s confession. “Oh, Gavin…”

“Are you crying..? Don’t cry. I’ll be back soon.”

You wipe away your warm tears before they can fall, but they still peek through in your voice as you say, “I’ll be waiting. We’ve still got a lot of things to do together.”

“I’ll take you to the movies, or maybe even karaoke.” He pushes out a strained snicker, admitting more of his condition than he has since you picked up the call. “I bet you’re dying to find out how tone deaf I am.”

You laugh along through your tears. “Nonsense! You’re obviously a good singer!”

Gavin is silent yet again for a few painstaking moments before he begins to whisper, his voice cracking slightly under change as he says your name. “___, I might not say it often, but I just want you to know that you matter so much to me. I’m so glad to have met you again. ``I love you.”

Looking back on that call, you don’t know why you refused to believe what you already knew was true. Maybe if you had, things would have gone differently. But even in the end, it seems that he was only trying to keep you from worrying, granted that this time, it may have almost cost him his life in return.

Gavin goes quiet a mere few minutes later, his phone slipping straight out of his hands to hit the ground hard. And yet, even as you already know what’s probably become of him by then, you still can’t bring yourself to hang up. His shallow breaths have almost completely ceased, and there’s barely an intelligible sound coming from the other side of the line save for the quiet echo of the blowing wind.

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to strain your ear for even the littlest signs of life, but can’t even find relief in his slight breath in and out.

He’s close to death and it kills you that you can’t do anything about it.

You soon hear footsteps rushing over on his side, and quite suddenly, you’re put to the ear of Gavin’s partner and good friend, Eli. You’d only met him briefly before, having barely managed to share even a single conversation back then because of your business with the STF. And because Gavin has never particularly been one to put you in any unnecessary danger, that was the last time you talked to him.

It’s depressing that your second meeting has to be in such gruesome circumstances.

“Sir, it’s still on.”

A voice you don’t recognise says these words faintly, and after a few seconds of radio silence, they wordlessly pick Gavin’s phone up and hand it over to Eli.

Eli mumbles briefly and unidentifiably before putting his mouth to the phone’s speaker

“___. I probably shouldn’t have expected anyone else but you to be the person he’d call in a time like this.”

You appreciate his attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but that’s far from what you need right now. You just go quiet in response, trying your best to gather yourself before speaking. “...Is this Eli?”

“It is.” You hear him swallow tighty as shuffling presumes in the background. “I’m so sorry, ___.”

Nothing but meaningless background noises fill the room, and your attention mixes with it. You can’t help but zone out of Eli’s consoling words and rather go to focus intently on keeping your sporadic heartbeat still.

“Please help him, Eli. He’s still alive, I know --”

“Ok.” He interrupts, inferably for your sake as words freeze in your throat. “I’ll try my best, ___.”

Your breathing is laboured and tears are streaming down your cheeks, but you don’t dare to try and stop them altogether. There’s only one thing — one person — that could manage to make you feel better right now, and that’s hardly yourself.

But for the time being, it’s impossible.

Gavin’s unit almost immediately decides to bring him into intensive care for fear of the possibility of his evol losing control under his fragile state of comatose. It’s rare for such things to occur in those stages, but everyone is in a silent agreement that it isn’t necessarily wrong to take precautions; especially since Gavin isn’t exactly typical. After all, his long years of being an evol agent have made his powers finely developed and too powerful to run freely when he’s in no place to control them.

You’re allowed to see him again around a week later.

You’d been given no specific date for the event upon your chat with Eli that day, but the time still comes faster than you thought it would. The organisation is a complicated web that you still don’t completely understand, so for all you know, those complications could have very well taken much longer.

Eli is the first to greet you when you go to the STF that day, and only silently leads you to the medical ward Gavin is being supervised in. There isn’t much for him to say, but it’s not like you necessarily have the capacity to ask about the details of your boyfriend’s death yet anyway.

“Be careful with him, okay? I know it’s a given, but we’re trying to make sure he’s stable before we make any other moves. So, just make sure not to touch the equipment.”

You give him your best smile in response. “Okay, I won’t. Thank you for everything.”

He nods, opting to give you some space as he retreats in the opposite direction. You aren’t sure that it would matter either way, though, as you stand there long after Eli had rounded the corner. It’s not like you can help your hesitation — your fear — but you still feel tense ignoring the very thing you’ve been pining after for days when it’s right in front of you.

You have no idea what to expect beyond that door.

Are his signs of stupor visible even after such a short amount of time? You hope to god that isn’t the case, praying that you’ll be able to look at your boyfriend again as someone who only looks as though they’re in a deeper sleep than usual.

But you’re afraid that you’ll open the door and find his body to be like the movies: pale, cold, and utterly lifeless without a shadow of a doubt. This the real world — your prayers certainly don’t have to be answered, and your fears won’t always be catered to. That’s what scares you the most.

And the very moment you finally gather enough courage to grip the door handle with your clammy palms and push it open, you know the world is too unforgiving.

The steady beeping from the heart monitor is barely noticeable over the heavy silence of the room, only a select few devices working actively to keep your lover alive. He is indefinitely stuck in a place of stagnicity, but there’s not even so much as an audible sound from the unit to tell you so. There’s only a slight buzz from the machinery aiding him, because sadly, there is so little left of Gavin to aid.

Your footsteps are heavy and rushed as you make your way over to him, but you still hesitate to touch him for a few fleeting moments. His skin is indeed frigid on the eye, yet it feels much colder to your warm touch.

Gripping his hand tightly as tears threaten to spill, you reach out to gingerly brush the bangs out of his eyes. You find that usually, due to the stress of his never-ending list of responsibilities, Gavin’s brows are usually slightly pinched. And yet, he looks uncharacteristically calm in the absence of consciousness.

You sweep a thumb lightly over his brow, swallowing harshly as you breathe back hot tears.

Gavin’s lying in front of you once again, yet, you still felt helpless. That didn’t change — it never had.

He’s alive in your memory, taking leaps and bounds into the past that only pushes the despair deeper into your stomach. You touch over every aspect of him in your head: every time he protected you, every time he sacrificed something for you, every time he kissed you—

It takes a lot to shake away the memories as your tears finally begin to spill.

You would do anything to rewind time. Anything to see him smile again, anything to have him next to you, alive and well again. Because that night he had called you, he was right: there really was so much you hadn’t experienced together.

Your eyes flit up to his face again, and you bite your quivering lip hard. The sobs that leave you aren’t languid nor graceful, and rather show the depth of your grief much better than any action does.

The reality of the situation is harsh, and unlike the movies, it doesn’t help you grow; it’s not a moment of staggering realisation. Instead, it’s despair clawing at your chest like a caged animal, and your headache blooming into a thorny flower that can hardly be called touching.

“Gavin,” You whisper this gently, your hand falling down to his cheek to tenderly brush your fingers over his cold skin. Placing a final kiss on your forehead with blurry eyes, you whisper to him.

“I love you.”

When we die, where do we go?

It’s certainly an abstract thought, one you’re not even quite sure you want to delve into, but continue to anyway upon the striking memory of Gavin’s cold skin under your fingertips. Though there’s hope for him to wake, of course, the awful possibility of death still looms over your head as a constant grim reminder.

Some describe the place after death as a paradise, where you’re gifted a golden halo and luxuries on the condition you lived an innocent life. While on the complete opposite side, it’s depicted as an inhumane switch over to a ghastly figure: ghosts, demons, put it how you will, all are perceived the same.

But you don’t want to think about what you believe, because to you, there’s no reason to.

Months go by where your angel is still absent, stuck in the dreadful place beyond life and yet still below complete death. His indefinite state of stagnicity continues to keep him well under surveillance at that time by not only the STF but also yourself -- all in hopes of a miracle bringing him back to you all.

His evol aiding him, his body finally healing, even a deity in the sky deciding that they’d made the wrong choice in taking him away: every single possibility is counted by you. And foolishly, it gives you hope.

To lean on the power of prayer alone is half witted and you’ve been made aware of that many times, but sadly, it’s the only chance you have, so you won’t let it slip through your fingers for small reasons like that.

You’ve been through so much with Gavin — from the time you’d reconnected to the last day you’d talked to him, you would take little of it back. He’s your partner partner in life that you feel proud to stand beside, and maybe it’s selfish, but you wish for his return more than anything else in the world.

Only, you know that you’ll have to prepare for the inevitable fate of the world turning a blind eye to your wishes once again.

It’s hard to continue on when such a huge piece of your life is suddenly missing, and in those months, you find yourself struggling more than you thought possible. But you’re grateful for the people that have chosen to stay by your side throughout the hard times, even if someone in particular was largely unprecedented.

But Victor’s help still means a lot to you.

In a way, he doesn’t change much from his usual self. He softens under your difficulties still, but continues to be his usual demanding and headstrong self for as long as it’s good for him. Yet Victor’s normally irritating traits are still surprisingly easy to repurpose to get you back on your feet, and they effectively act as a healthy buffer between you and reality for as long as he’ll allow it.

And with his help, you find yourself slowly clawing your way out of the hole you’ve been buried in for months. Slowly but surely, every hand he offers you eases you out of your pain with more success each time.

Winter rolls around and you’re feeling the best you have in a long time. Granted, it’s not amazing, but it’s still progress. You’re noticeably healthier, looser, even — and yet you still can’t help but hide the sadness and regret you feel. Because no matter what, you know that the one who’s given you so much will never live up to the person you’ve lost.

The upcoming holiday season is only another reminder of that, your nerves spiking at the thought of your first Christmas without Gavin. Though Victor is there to help, of course, you’re afraid that you’ll end up taking the change too hard.

After all, your hope for Gavin to wake is just as bright as the day you had shared that short call with him, but even more so now upon the timing. Because along with the season, it’s also been almost an entire year since then. Your longing for your boyfriend’s healing is stronger than ever as a result, and even beside others, you find yourself to be as lonely as can be without him.

Being healthier, being happier on the outside, all of it only hides what you can’t help but feel on the inside. The depressing situation leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that only grows with each passing day — and your grief turns into a monster you find yourself battling every single day.

Truly, you continue to believe that you’re at your limit every single day.

But then something changes. Something in the heavens, something in the deity that you’d pictured giving Gavin everything he wanted in the afterlife, something in fate. And slowly, the course of life starts to change, too.

The days have always tended to go by faster when you’re afraid of something. You’ve known that for a long time after being nervous for school presentations, job interviews, and even plain-old events throughout the years. But you think that nothing you’ve ever been through compares to now, when Christmas is suddenly only a few days away and there’s not even a single word from Eli on Gavin’s condition changing.

The sight of festivities is enough to make you nauseous with so much as even a glance. Yet still, that doesn’t stop your oh-so gracious caregiver from decorating his house on his own, stringing every light and hanging every ornament by his hands alone.

Tapping your fingers on the mahogany of Victor’s dining table one night he invites you over, you’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by a loud sigh.

“You know, you’re going to wear a hole in the table if you keep doing that, and it’s coming right out of your paycheck.”

Maybe you would have normally laughed, but his joke only harmlessly bounces off of you as you retract your hand and let it fall to your lap. “Oh. Sorry.”

SIlence ensues before Victor sighs again.

“...Is there something wrong, ___?”

His voice is a gentler one, the same he’d used when he’d found you trying to piece a glass back together with bloody hands all that time ago. It’s the voice that once gave you comfort, but now only offers guilt.

Your eyes shoot over to where he’s sitting on the couch across the room, slowly taking in the way he’s shut his laptop and now directs his full attention to you.

“It’s almost Christmas.” You say vaguely, forcing a smile as Victor’s brows go slightly taut. Thankfully, you don’t have to explain any more than that.

“I’m sorry, ___. It’ll be hard, but I know you can get through it.”

“Maybe,” You pick up your head as your smile drops. “But that’s not what I want to hear anymore.”

Victor returns your gaze, and under that action, you helplessly avert your eyes. Even with his limitless kindness over the past few months, you still can’t help the inexplicable wall between the two of you. Maybe it’s your own fault, or maybe it’s just a difference in viewpoints -- but whatever the case, your methods of fixation almost always seem to differ.

His voice goes uncharacteristically soft as he busies his hands with the computer sitting in his lap. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you as much. If there’s anything else I can do—“

He trails off when you blink in response, your adam’s apple bobbing as you fold your arms on the table in front of you.

“No, whatever I do in this situation is up to me. I’m grateful for your help, but you have nothing to do with what happens to me.” You sigh. “I can’t rely on you forever.”

You can’t see his eyes, but in a fleeting moment you do, you swear that they almost beg for your opinion to differ. It’s a kind gesture, you think, yet it’s unfortunately not something that’s very realistic.

Victor doesn’t push it, just standing up and nonchalantly walking past you to the sink. He’s never been very persistent to you, and though that might’ve bothered you before, you’ve never been happier about his weird quirk than you have in that moment.

“Dummy,” he mumbles, his quiet words lost to you above the sound of the faucet running. You sit there in comfortable silence as he washes off his dish, and almost jerk in surprise when he starts speaking again a few minutes later.

“Celebrate Christmas with me this year.”

It’s blunt, and the wording doesn’t make it sound like an offer as much as it does a demand. But only because you’ve come to know Victor, you know his words are as genuine as they come.

“...I couldn’t impose on something like that.” You shake your head.

“You wouldn’t be imposing on anything,” He says, reaching casually for the towel next to him as he dries his plate off. “I have a function to go to that day, and though I was originally going to go alone, I thought it sounded like something you might like.”

You process his words for a few moments. He thought it sounded like something I’d like? Is Victor not feeling well?

“Are you sure…?”

“If I wasn’t sure, would I have asked?”

Ah, there he is.

The days after that seem to tick down faster and faster until before you know it, you’re waking up alone in bed on Christmas morning with an entirely new sensation running through your chest. As you force your eyes open to meet the forenoon sun, the change in atmosphere the occasion has warranted suddenly makes you hyper-aware of the empty space next to you.

Sorry Victor, you think tiredly, but now begins the start of what will probably be the most awful day ever.

You drag yourself out of bed after a few minutes and walk through your sparsely decorated apartment to the kitchen in favour of caffeine over anything else. But unfortunately, even when partaking in such a mundane action, Gavin manages to be everywhere. The hand you reach blindly into the cabinet comes out with a pretty cerulean mug -- only one of the many things he had gifted you last christmas.

The mug almost seems to mock you in your hand, but you mentally push it away and just put it beneath the coffee machine’s filter without another thought. You’ve gotten horridly good at ignoring your emotions over the period of time you’ve been left alone, and though you’re certain it’s not a good thing, at times it proves to be one of your greatest assets.

Because the more you can ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, the more you’re used to being without it.

You know undoubtedly that Christmas morning for most is a happy occasion -- children rush downstairs to a heartily decorated tree with their parents in wait, screams of delight from people of all ages when receiving a desired gift, and especially gatherings for family, friends, and lovers alike. But for the first time, Christmas means something horribly new to you.

Sipping your coffee and trying your best to ignore the scorching feeling of it, you sit on your couch and imagine yourself sinking back into the cushions. Maybe if you did, the day would pass by unnoticed. But then again, that would also mean that you would miss Victor’s invitation, and you were admittedly curious of the man’s vague offer.

Along with the upcoming holidays, a large part of your attention in the past weeks has been on what Victor said that night at his house. He had refused to tell you specifically what it was, only choosing to disclose that it seemed like something you would like and dismissing the conversation from there. It was a very characteristic thing of him to do -- and if you weren’t already up to your knees in his antics, maybe you would have dived a bit deeper into it.

You sigh out a breath of warm air at the thought, the coffee’s previously sweet aroma coming out half-baked. But the strange smell doesn’t even so much as vex you anymore as you cradle the warm mug between your knees, pulling your phone out of your pyjama pocket in hopes to distract yourself in the few hours you have until Victor comes around.

“You’ll be cold if you only wear that. Put on a hat or a scarf, if you have one.”

You shake your head and put on a smile as you shrug on your jacket later in the day. “No, I don’t need to. I’m used to the cold, don't worry.”

A small sound of discontent escapes Victor’s lips.

“You know, it doesn’t matter how used to it you think you are,” He says firmly, his hands instinctively going up to grip the lapels of his own coat. “You’re still going to be cold where we’re headed.”

You give him a suspicious look as you reach for a hat hanging on the hook by the door in your apartment, not breaking eye contact even as you pull it over your head as far as it can go.

When your eyes are momentarily covered, you swear you hear him chuckle.

“Is this good?” You ask.

“No, too much,” he mumbles, not caring to hide the laughter lining his voice as he reaches out and softly tugs it above your eyes.

The moment the soft fabric comes up into its rightful place, you’re met with Victor’s eyes awfully close to your own. And though you can’t fight the embarrassing heat that rushes to your cheeks, you just smile as if unaware of it.

“Fine, Mr I Know Everything, is that suitable for you?”

Something begins to shift in his eyes. but it’s barely for even a second, so you have a hard time catching it before it goes away again.

“You can let yourself think that,” he answers vaguely, a small smile curving on his lips as he turns back towards the door. “But we’ll know for sure later.”

You swallow back any thoughts daring to jump out and just nod, plastering on the same smile that you’ve been refining for months.

“I swear I won’t be cold! Now let’s go, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

Going ahead of him to reopen your apartment’s door, you take a quick look behind you again and usher him forwards. Victor gives you a slightly scrutinising look, but well accustomed to it, you only stare back as he ignores you and goes past you.

Where you’re going -- the very place he’d so dutifully refused to tell you -- is a mystery to you up until the moment he gets started on the route.

“Wait, you’re taking me there?” You blurt out as soon as you put what you think are the pieces together, looking over at him from the passenger seat. Victor gives no response but the slight twitch of his lips, but that’s answer enough for you.

LFG is almost notorious for hosting elaborate Christmas parties each year: events that are raved about by the men and the women who attend, though still second only to the CEO’s judgment. You don’t know the specifics, but Victor has never particularly seemed to enjoy the holiday season, even when you tended to be more enthusiastic about it in the past.

But even if the yearly Christmas event had been one of your guesses when Victor originally mentioned his offer back then, it was still impossible to guess any further as the event tends to vary drastically per year. And since that’s still the best your guess can do, you opt to stare out the window and try to clear your head instead. Because right now, at least you’re in a suitable headspace to distract yourself from strong sense of loneliness that’s taken great care in hiding itself.

Gavin has been off your mind since this morning, but you know that the sensation will be short-lived. It always is.

Victor catches your attention again by turning the key in the ignition, effectively tearing you away from your thoughts as you go to look out the window. And you can’t help your jaw dropping at the sight in front of you.

This year, LFG has revamped the entire park to look like some kind of winter wonderland. Festive decorations make the scene merry, booths look like they’re filled to the brim with goods, and not to mention the main feature -- the beautiful frozen lake designated specifically for ice-skating. It’s wonderful, and for a few moments, an overwhelming sense of joy comes over you.

“Victor!” The pitch of your voice goes slightly higher when you turn around to look at him. “Your company did all this?”

Victor only stares at you for a few moments, as if not anticipating your reaction, and just chuckles.

“Of course, dummy. Who else would’ve?”

You ignore his snide comment and turn towards the window again, sighing slowly in relief as you take in the scenery yet again. You thought that having a good time today would be impossible, but now looking at everything from a different perspective, you think that maybe it’s your duty to have as much fun as you usually do -- if not for yourself, for Gavin.

“Are you ready or what?”

“Yes!”

On Victor’s cue, you get out of the car and walk ahead of him, peering inside booths and sizing everything up as you go. Just as you first predicted, the booths are overflowing with everything ranging from traditional ornaments to steaming baked goods, only, they seem to have everything in between in addition.

“You really prepared this well,” You say, phrasing it as a compliment as you lean slightly in front of a booth to pick up a small stuffed polar bear. “Everything is so nice.”

He’s quiet from behind you, but you can almost see his small content nod in your mind’s eye.

“Good. See anything you like? Consider it a present.”

You whip around at his offer, brow quirked.

“And it won’t come out of my wage this time?”

His mouth curls up, his expression almost sour. “What do you mean this time? You think I’d do that? Or in case you didn’t realise, it’s Christmas, ___.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “It was only a joke.”

Victor grumbles about it but doesn’t look unhappy.

“But, Victor, I think I know what I want.” You say, gripping the little polar bear in your hands and turning around to him. His eyes don’t meet the stuffed toy right away, but when they do, he doesn’t look very surprised.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “It’s only been a few minutes.”

You nod, looking down into the toy’s familiarly amber eyes with a small smile twitching on your lips.

“I’m sure.”

You hand it over to Victor, but as the cashier notices him walking up, she freezes. Her face heats up as recognition flashes through her eyes, but he promptly ignores her and goes to reach into his coat pocket.

“Sir,” She sputters, shaking her head as a nervous laugh escapes her throat. “There’s no need for you to pay.”

He ignores her yet again, pulling out a leather-bound wallet.

“No matter who I am,” He begins, his voice dropping into a brusque tone. It’s oddly chilly compared to his voice only moments before, but why, you don’t know and don’t ask. “It’s irresponsible to assume I don’t have to pay.”

Her face gets redder as the presumably kind thing to do blows up in her face. And after she apologises, they continue the process in painful silence that’s hurtful to even you, someone who’s not inherently in the conversation.

“Thank you for the offer,” You say this from beside Victor, smiling in what you hope is reassurance. “It wasn’t wrong of you to do that, and I appreciate your thought a lot.”

The young woman seems grateful for your interruption, and nods before bowing her head slightly. But, you don’t catch the curious look in Victor’s eyes as she says, “Please have a good rest of your night.”

Victor leads you away from the booth in what would look like a normal saunter to any onlookers, but knowing him as you do, you see the things no one else does. It’s definitely not something you see from him often, but that only means that you have the sight of it deeper engraved in your memory:

Something has just surprised him.

“Victor?” You reach over and put a hand on his arm as you walk, quirking a brow when he looks over at you with a slightly conflicted gaze. “Are you okay?”

You both stop near the middle of the makeshift square, and seeing your expression clearly under the lights now, Victor only sighs.

“I’m fine.”

And that’s about all you get out of him, but you know not to push it any further.

Soon enough, his mood swings are the least of your concern anyway. Because as you go around with the bag over your arm for the rest of the night, you feel a sudden yet horrible sense of nostalgia washing over you. It’s the same issue every year during the holidays, good memories calling up deja vu that still lead forth fulfilling nights, but this year, it’s different.

Your nostalgia is a constant cycle instead of a straight feeling, wherein the twisting memories are replaced by sadness further on. But for what feels like the first time, that same melancholic feeling is being accompanied by an out of place rush of happiness.

And for the first time, genuinely, since you were told that Gavin might not wake, you feel happy.

You feel nothing but triumph as Victor is dumbfounded by your laugh, like the sound itself is foreign to him. You enjoy things that you couldn’t before because of pressing memories, and like that you’re able to see everything with a clearer gaze again. You don’t have such a foreboding force crushing down on you, and it feels amazing to live without as much grief, even if it might only be for one night.

But then, going later and later into the night and finally having to acknowledge that it’s all good as over -- well, that’s a different story. There’s the same kind of purpose in each step that you’d been gifted hours before, but they come with less strength now. They’re dull, almost as if because the night is coming to an end, the effects of everything are suddenly beginning to wear off, too.

It’s a shame, you think, because you really could get used to a feeling like that.

You and Victor are some of the only people left in the park when you look at your watch, but you don’t mind much. Actually, even if you have to be here alone, you’d probably still choose to stay a bit longer. Because, maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t want to be sad again.

Surprise jolts through you as a hand comes down to land on your shoulder, effectively breaking your thoughts,but you relax again when your eyes shoot up to meet Victor’s.

“Stay here for a minute. I have to discuss something with a park manager.”

Not able to find the words to respond, you just nod.

And soon enough, you’re alone just as you wished. It’s not exactly what you’d imagined, and if anything, you only feel desolate standing in what’s supposed to be such a happy place by yourself.

Quite fed up with all the twists and turns the emotions in your chest are doing in those moments, you stuff your frozen hands into your coat pocket with enough force to send a small shiver through you. But while doing so, you remember your phone, still remaining dutifully in the same pocket you’d put it in at the beginning of the day. The surface is fairly cold, having been off for so long, but you still feel some sort of silly peace when the screen flashes to tell you it’s powering on again anyway.

You lose that sense fairly quickly.

The phone screen turns on almost immediately, signified with a small vibrate at the palm of your hand. And when it does, you’re met with a sight you never thought you’d see. The lock-screen, which would normally be a cute picture you’d taken while in the mediterranean with Gavin, was now completely covered by a mass of missed calls and texts from Eli.

Your breath freezes in your throat as your eyes take in the contents of the screen, and for a moment, it seems like all of your senses are gone. You want to assume the best, you want to assume the worst -- but at the least, you want to assume that everything is okay. It’s only been a couple hours since everything was made, and you hold on tightly to the belief that whatever happened, Eli handled it.

With trembling fingers and an equally trembling heart, you call him back.

“___!”

He picks up on the first ring, and you feel horrible immediately thinking that you have to prepare yourself for the worst. You’ve only been conditioned to feel that way, after all, and it’s admittedly a hard habit to break.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, a little more frantically than you’d meant to. “My phone’s been off all day.”

Eli only sends a breathy laugh coming through the speaker, leaving your nerves to hang for a few more seconds before delivering the final blow.

“___, I’ve never believed in Christmas miracles, but he’s awake. Gavin’s really back for real this time.”

Your heart stops.

Turning the words over and over in your head, you can’t help but feel surprised when you come up without a single clear explanation. There’s an indescribable type of joy that clouds your thoughts, but even so, you still know bright as day -- your prayers, albeit late, have finally been answered.

“...Are you okay?”

You snap out of the haze you’re in to Eli’s curious voice over the speaker, and quickly apologise as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You croak, sniffing as you try and wipe the embarrassed tint from your cheeks. “Thank you so much, Eli. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Able to hear the man’s bashfulness in his response, you find it hard to hold back a smile.

“Would it be okay for me to come and see him? I know there’s probably still complications--”

Eli interrupts you before you can so much as get the meat of your sentence out. “No, yes! Please do! The guy’s been asking about you since the moment he could form complete sentences!”

You pull your lips together in an attempt to stop the noise raising in your throat, although it doesn’t work very well. So, you just nod and nod silently in hopes that will convey your emotion enough, and then inevitably realise how much of an extreme sport it is to keep from crying when you really, really want to.

“___?”

Another voice calls your name from behind you, effectively startling you out of your thoughts. So, you quickly finish your conversation with Eli and try to at least make yourself presentable before turning around.

Once you do, you’re met with Victor, who stands there patiently with his arms crossed over his chest. But his calm expression melts into one of confusion once he glimpses at your face.

“Are you okay?” He quickly walks over to you as you curse yourself inside your head for not doing a better job of cleaning up. “Why are you crying?”

You stumble over your words, looking up at him with teary eyes and a wide smile you can’t seem to wipe off your face. “Victor--”

He puts a hand on your shoulder, still hesitating slightly after all these months.

“Yes?” He whispers quietly, prompting you on.

“He’s finally awake.” You laugh through tears, sniffing as you wipe your eyes. “Gavin’s finally awake.”

You feel as if he’s happy for you, but because of your hands obstructing your eyes, you don’t see the depressingly blank look on his face.

But, he thinks, maybe it’s better that she doesn’t.

“If he’s awake,” Victor hesitates again before taking his hand off your shoulder and stepping past you. “Then let’s go. I’ll bring you home so you can change and go wherever you need to.”

Nodding gratefully, you go after him and decide that you’re ready to face whatever comes your way from then on.

“Thank you so much, Victor. For everything” You offer a smile to him as you walk back to his car, but yet again, don’t notice the pain in eyes as he smiles back.

“Anything.”

Eli runs up to you the moment you set foot in the STF around an hour later. A healthy time, you think, but not nearly quick enough for your racing thoughts.

Things like ‘what if something happens before I can get there?’ or ‘what if he goes under again while I’m stuck in traffic?’ rush through your head, but luckily, Eli’s there to cajole you otherwise.

“How is he?”

You ask this tentatively as Eli punches in a passcode for the medical ward. He doesn’t so much as look up from what he’s doing, but you still see his eyes soften with your words.

“He’s fine, apart from the obvious.” Eli laughs at his own dry joke, and “It’s just strange, how he’s awake all of the sudden. I guess I’m not really supposed to be talking about it, but it’s only you.”

You try to push him along with your eyes, and catching your gaze, he does.

“When he woke up…” Eli trails off as his finger hovers in the air, as if just over the last needed number in the keypad. “His injuries were almost completely healed.”

Your brows knit. “What? Healed?”

Eli shakes his head as the door gives an affirmative beep and slides open.

“Yeah. It’s weird, isn’t it? He was still wrapped up in those awful bandages and hanging onto life support a few days ago, and now he’s awake with barely any side effects.”

You don’t know whether to be curious or concerned at the information.

“What side effects does he have, then?”

Assuming the worst, you can’t help but be surprised when Eli just shrugs, talking as he turns a corner. You follow in haste, but are stopped almost as quickly at the sight in front of you.

It’s not like you haven’t been in the medical ward before, but the sight of various officers unconscious makes you slightly sick to your stomach. Some are having their last days, some their worst -- it all stirs something in you. You can only be glad your boyfriend isn’t one of them.

“He’s a little drowsy, so we can’t get much more than that.” Eli gets your attention again, to where you realise that he stopped to wait for you. “But for right now, it’s only a matter of expecting the worst so nothing else happens.”

Quickly apologising, you pick up walking next to him again, where he calmly and understandingly resumes.

“Whether it has something to do with his evol or another thing entirely, at least he’s making progress.” He muses, his lips twisting slightly in thought.

You can only nod in silent agreement.

Something doesn’t sound right to you, but it wouldn’t do any good to point out what everyone already knows. Gavin is awake, and maybe Eli’s right: perhaps that’s all that should matter for now.

Eli stops before you even realise it, and in mere moments, you’re staring up at the door to the very room that months ago you never wanted to set foot in again. But noticing your repetitious reluctance, Eli vouches to say one last thing before walking off.

“He’s been really stressed out, asking if you were okay like that. Treat him well, ___.”

Your insides melt at his soft words, and with tears blooming, you nod and turn back to the door. You’re alone in the hall again, almost as if you had travelled back 8 months in time, but this time it’s different. You’re here to see your lover alive.

So, for a change, you push the door open without a second thought.

“Be careful when eating, it seems your teeth have shifted a bit more.” A nurse chastises Gavin while she replaces an IV. “We don’t want any long-term side effects.”

You try not to draw attention to yourself, but the natural human instinct for eyes to be drawn towards motion sells you out first.

Gavin is frozen where he sits, but the nurse standing above him only sends you a patient smile. She’s an older woman close to what looks like salt and pepper hair, with faint lines decorating her face to show years of passing emotions.

The nurse hums. “Miss ___? I was told to wait for someone.”

You can only nod, forcing your eyes away from Gavin to acknowledge the woman for even just a second.

She gives you a once-over and smiles again, as if silently sharing a secret with you. But, you’re not nearly paying enough attention to give it much thought. Still, you hope it’s in good graces as she whispers her wishes for you to have a good holiday when walking past you to the door.

“...Gavin?”

You can only force out his name as the door clicks shut behind you.

“___.”

He sounds breathless, almost yearning, and the sound of his voice alone brings lost tears crashing over your cheeks.

Gavin isn’t one to show many emotions unabashed, but in that moment, you swear he doesn’t hold anything back any longer. Unsaid words flood from his eyes just as easily as tears come from yours, and in a moment, you’re next to him again.

Touching him again is rejuvenating.

It feels silly to think, but you swear that you can feel everything falling back into place again when he wraps his arms around your waist. It’s as if his touch is somehow forcing bad memories away: the bad memories of crying yourself to sleep; the bad memories of missing him so badly that your chest would hurt; and the horrible sinking realisation that you might not ever see him breathing again -- it all pacifies when you felt his breath on your skin.

“Are you okay?” He asks this softly, his voice slightly muffled by your jacket. You can’t do anything but shake your head.

“Always worrying about me,” You try to click your tongue through your whispers, although the action is just sad. “Even until what I thought was the end. Worry about yourself first, would you?”

It should be a joke, but neither of you laugh. He only sighs into your chest in a silent apology as you pull him closer, and you try to find pride in the possibility that just maybe, you’re giving him the same feeling he’s giving you.

“What about you?” Your teary mumble is lost along with your fingers in the tendrils of his hair, but the words still manage to reach him perfectly anyway. “Eli told me that you’re quite the superhuman.”

He doesn’t answer you with words, only nodding in confirmation. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but even if that is the case, you still understand. It’s likely that he knows just as much as everyone else does about his condition, but that doesn’t make it any less of a touchy subject.

“I hope everything is cleared up soon.” You say this softly in retraction. “It might be selfish, but I really, really want you to come back.”

“It’s not selfish,” You can feel his quiet laugh as he speaks, and it’s almost as if the heavy atmosphere from only a few seconds ago dissipated with his smile alone. “I missed you, a lot more than I should have been able to while I was like that.”

You finally pull back to look him in the eye, and he takes your hand in his with a such a swift motion that it shouldn’t even be possible for a man that was on the brink of death not even days ago.

But you don’t dwell on it. You don’t want to dwell on it. It might be strange, supernatural, even, but all that matters to you in that moment is that your lover is finally awake in your arms again.

And you hope with all your heart that it will stay that way.

#mr love queen's choice #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mr love gavin #mlqc x reader #mr love queen’s choice x reader #mr love fanfic #mlqc fanfic #mr love #mr love x reader #mlqc gavin x reader #mr love queen’s choice gavin #mlqc memes #incorrect mlqc #incorrect mlqc quotes #my writing #I already know this isn’t going to get many notes and that makes me sad 😔#but I like the end result anyway so I guess it doesn’t matter

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taebadam · 5 years ago

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act two pt. 1:

act twooooooo. we start w hands clean (this ensemble wowwowwowowow) and the stage opens to bella and andrew on either side of nick, all staring out into the audience. a few moments later jo and frankie come in from stage right and stand on either side of bella, comforting her and staying by her side as they walk off stage. honestly, i love how bella is rarely alone in all of this, jo and frankie are always there for her it’s really sweet.

as they all leave we transition to a psychologist’s office where steve and mj are getting ready to meet w the doctor. cue not the doctor. so good. so funny. so clever. when yana comes up behind them as the doctor and announces “hello i am the doctor” it’s just so perfect. then comes the therapy session. the whole time steve is emotional and desperate trying to get through to mj and figure out what’s wrong he’s just so concerned and mj is just so completely closed off: body language, speech and all. she does not want to be there. she does mention her car accident, though, and the doctor comments that physical trauma can awaken past trauma, even sexual trauma (hint hint see the predator theme from forgiven…). mj immediately tries to deny this and steve just doesn’t know what to do. there is a funny line though where the doctor asks if steve would describe himself as the high-libido partner and steve responds “i would describe myself as a puppy under the table begging for scraps… and getting kicked in the head w a loafer” and mj goes “these are not loafers these are drivers” and it’s so funny. but eventually the doctor asks if mj has always been reluctant to have sex and steve says no, that “they were great once. remember?” cue head over feet. frankie and phoenix peek out from behind the panels on either side of the stage while mj and steve are still in the center as the song starts. eventually the couples switch places as the song grows and the swingset replaces the doctor’s office for frankie and phoenix to climb on while they sing. the song ends with them in frankie’s room, about to have sex. as they start taking each other’s clothes off jo enters from the side, singing your house (wow i love lauren patten her voice i just ahhhhhhhh). all of your house is acapella and lauren patten is just honestly a freak of nature. she walks into frankie’s room and catches them in the middle of having sex, running out and trying to hide the fact that she’s crying as frankie calls after her. she runs downstairs as mj and steve come home and announces that frankie has been having sex w a boy upstairs. she breaks the tension w one of my favorite lines “he was wearing dog tags w no shirt like a douche!” then steve calls her joanne before running upstairs. as he and mj leave she stops for a moment and says, her voice small, shaking and cracking a little and with a hint of just utter devastation “please don’t call me joanne.” she then returns to her usual funny self though and yells “i’m not a fucking fabric store!” before exiting the stage. again, just beautiful acting from lauren. the face jo puts on only breaks for a second but wow is it like a punch in the gut. it breaks me every time.

ok so you know how in theaters there are poles/scaffolding on either side of the stage where they hang lights and speakers and things? yeah. so steve and mj run into frankie’s room and phoenix can be seen literally climbing down said scaffolding w no shirt or pants on, trying desperately not to drop his clothes. steve comments about frankie’s friend “running down the sidewalk w his pants falling down” as phoenix stumbles through the audience just trying his best. it is so fucking funny. but then mj and steve start berating frankie. they say she’s too young to be having sex “especially w a boy she just met” and frankie responds “what if it was with a girl? i’m bisexual, did you know that?” and steve’s like “wow ok” and it’s hilarious cause clearly he’s like not upset w this and would want to talk about it more but also there’s another issue at hand and this poor dude is like idk what to do. meanwhile mj just keeps going on about how frankie shouldn’t be doing this and frankie goes “you don’t care about the situation w bella but as soon as i choose to have sex w someone i care about it’s a crime?” and mj goes “don’t even get me started in the situation w bella. if youre not careful frankie the same thing could happen to you.” silence. a few gasps in the audience. frankie slowly stands up and pushes mj away “you don’t get it.” she says, devastated, and begins packing a bag. they ask her what she’s doing, she says it’s none of their business and they say it is because they’re her parents. she yells “you are not my parents! look at me. you don’t own me just because you have a paper in a file folder somewhere. you thought you could straighten my hair and raise me around white kids and i would turn out like you. well i’mglad i didn’t. i don’t want o be like you.” she rushes off and steve and mj yell at each other in anger, mj blaming him as the workaholic who was never around and steve trying to get through to her and say that maybe they made some mistakes when raising frankie and they should try to listen to her. to no avail.

cut to unprodigal daughter. frankie is on a train to new york and her and the ensemble just completely rock out. she has her moment, finally free of all the pain and stress of home. she’s carefree and happy, dancing her heart out. OH WOW THE CHOREOGRAPHY HERE HOLY SHIT. also her voice. wowowow. so good. at the end, they do a lift w frankie that’s the EXACT SAME LIFT as they did w ebony (her double) back in all i really want. so good. after the song she calls phoenix, trying to get him to come to new york w her. she tells phoenix she loves him and he can’t say it back, he tries to explain that he really likes her he’s just not ready to say he loves her yet but frankie hangs up on him, heartbroken.

there’s a mini transition scene where all of the ensemble are on their phones saying horrible things about bella like that she’s only doing this for the money and that she’s just trying to get attention. at the end they all silently hold out their phone screens to the audience and walk off without a word. wow.

the next scene bella walks into the healy house, looking for nick. instead the finds mj in the kitchen and they talk. mj says she heard about what happened and says she understands how bella feels. bella says she doubts that and mj says that she’s experienced the same thing before, but that “we have to be strong and accept our mistakes.” she’s trying to smile, act like everything is ok. it’s a call back to her line in forgiven after she discusses her assault, where she says “i kept going i powered through.” bella looks at her for a moment and asks, “when did you start to feel better?” she pauses and her voice breaks as she begins to cry “how long did it take? tell me when i’m gonna feel normal again.” silence. mj doesn’t have an answer. “great.” bella says and leaves. nick comes in right after she goes and tells mj the police called, that he thinks he should say something about what he saw. mj immediately shuts him down, tells him to stay out of it for fear of him losing his reputation or, worse, his acceptance to harvard. he stops and says “i need to tell you what i saw that night.” cue predator.

this song is haunting. truly. it begins with that chilling theme and you just know what’s coming and all the times that theme came in during the first act start to come together and it dawns on you and just. wow. we go back to the night of the party, but this time from bella’s point of view. we now see everything andrew does so, so clearly and we’re left thinking: how did we not notice this before? the truth is each of us probably did notice something, something small. but we’ve been conditioned to ignore it, see it as normal, something that “just happens sometimes.” and it’s really a punch to the gut when you realize what you did, how you were a bystander who didn’t notice the signs that were right in front of your face. i have never seen a piece of art or media so successfully throw viewers into this mindset, truly showing us how easy it is to be passive and complicit. we can’t judge nick really. we can’t think “how could he not see something was wrong? how could he not say anything?” because we did it too. we see andrew give her drink after drink, pull her away from her friends and guide her as he pleases. about halfway through the song, however, bella steps away from the party scene to sing at the side and who replaces her? HEATHER. MJ’S BODY DOUBLE. heather takes her place in her same outfit and begins a truly mesmerizing choreography that has her falling around the stage, being pulled and lifted and tossed around by the ensemble like she has no control over her body, no control over her actions. the panels begin to move in as we get closer to the final chorus and eventually they open up to reveal a bed standing upright (like we’re looking down on it) with the party still raging behind and bella steps over and leans back on the bed as she hits her big note going into the climax of the song. she lays there on the bed, immobilized, singing in despair as andrew slowly approaches her while the panels around her show the images that were taken at the party which frankie and jo mentioned in the first act. then, as the chorus come to an end, andrew removes her from the bed and brings her to the floor. it’s at this point that a few things come together and let me tell you: i gasped. first, we notice we’re now witnessing the rape. bella is unconscious and andrew is beginning to undress her. second, it’s at this moment nick comes out from behind a panel, revealing not only that he saw how drunk bella was, but that he saw andrew beginning to rape her and did nothing. third is that as bella is removed from the bed who takes her place? mj. mj takes the exact same position that bella was in, watching the assault on the floor below her in horror. and finally, the final punch to the whole scene, is that as the song comes to a close the panels cover the photos of bella once again for just a moment and when they move away, what’s left beneath are no longer pictures of bella. they’re pictures of mj. in the same position. just. heart-wrenching.

after the song we see mj really start to break down. she yells at nick, asking why he didn’t do anything, asking if he “forgot she (bella) was a human being.” nick is devastated and mj is just barely holding it together. truly stunning. but even still mj tells nick he still can’t say anything. she doesn’t want him to get in trouble, and losing her perfect son is still central in her mind.

#jlp #jagged little pill #jagged little broadway #elizabeth stanley #sean allen krill #derek klena #celia gooding #lauren patten #kathryn gallagher

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vrcomputart · 6 years ago

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12.11.18

ASMR RESEARCH FOR GROUP PROJECT

Now You’ve Got the Shiveries: Affect, Intimacy, and the ASMR Whisper Community by Joceline Andersen 11/11/14

https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/1527476414556184

ASMR - intention, affect

- This paper “examine[s] how ASMR videos create pleasure through a distant intimacy that relies on the heteronormative gender roles of care and the aural impression of the whisper for its implementation and how their shared space on YouTube further defines that intimacy as public and communal”

- The ASMR community creates and exchanges videos designed to trigger tingles through screens, denying its nonnormative intimate nature and “the transgressiveness of their digital pleasure”

- Relaxing head tingles helps with stress and insomnia, inducing comfort and bliss

- “In the case of ASMR, affect and emotion exist hand in hand, tethered by intentionality, memory, and nostalgia. In this paper, I will explore the connotations of intimacy and care that create the affective ASMR experience to examine the ASMR community on YouTube as sharing in a public and therefore nonnormative experience of distant intimacy that reflects, if reluctantly, the potential of digital communities to make us feel”

- Aural triggers eg whispering, rustling paper, tapping are physiologically charged - an affective experience (Massumi)

- “the intention of care has a role in the way that these experiences manifest an affective experience with a content of pleasure.” Some videos role-play everyday tasks, including sounds we may find annoying in our day-to-day lives, but the intention the viewer brings in (to relax) and the assumed intention of the creator (to help others relax) changes the experience to that of care

- Founder of ASMR research called it “a more polite term for ‘orgasm’. Tenuous links between sensation and science – it is claimed to be an autonomous response, but is ultimately fringe science similar to binaural beat listeners, which brings us back to the point about intentionality. Perhaps it is more of a placebo, and more about the community formed?

Community and Youtube

- ASMR is a public phenomemon, as it spread across all social media and not just niche sites: “The ASMR community is aligned not only by their quest for affective experience but by their desire to share it through online media…”

- Youtube is a big part of the community’s formation - “youtube is the most public home of asmr”, “an archive and a site of creative exchange”

The voice

- Usually delivered by female creators. Role-played performance rather than cold instructions.

- Voice is important – videos often only show certain body parts (hands, mouth). Focus directed to actions and gesures. Close-ups jar familiar conventions of how a person is framed on a screen. Meditative attention on body parts, sometimes to the point of abstraction.

- Sound over video: binaural recording is getting more popular; “increasingly sophisticated audioscapes while the video quality remains poor. The video component is secondary to the experience and exists primarily because of the affordances of YouTube”

- Whisper as powerful in a hypersonic world. The whisper requires a closeness between speaker and listener for communication. Connotations to intimate relationships like mother and child (or conversations you have at sleepovers with friends). “The whisper recreates intimacy without the need for physical presence”

- Whisper demands more attention, so the listener is more intent on sounds, and considering most people use headphones, the effect of whispers in one’s ear are more intense. Private and intimate exchange despite it being public.

- Quality of voice as carrier of meaning, rather than the words themselves.

- The whisperer is ‘hyper-present’, creating an intimacy, a presence made possible thru binaural mics and immersive headphone sound. Affect involves impressions, impression implies contact. Movement creates emotional content. 2 bodies are connected, are able to impress upon another.

Impression and non-normative intimacy

- Impression created thru affect at a distance is crucially aural. Body casts its impression thru voice. Voice implies flesh body. Listening as act of touch (sound waves). Thus impressions are created through the voice and video (though video is not as affective as we’ve discussed above)

- Affective impression at a distance – distant intimacy. Close personal attention is a trigger that suggests physical proximity, but is remotely evoked through video. And distant not only spacially but temporally too – you can watch a video a year later after it was released.

Distant intimacy can be useful for people who maybe experience social anxiety or cannot physically experience intimacy. Maybe it’s good cause it’s controlled (you choose when to watch, can pause if needed). And from the other side, you make one video and can touch many. Like an artwork, an encounter, a ‘disruptive’ force in a way.

Also interesting considering the emphasis placed on romantic, sexual relationships as the main, most valid source of intimacy and care. What about friendships and other platonic relationships? And what about a collective sense of care i.e. you don’t need to know someone personally to care about them

- Distant intimacy – experienced as a group in absence of normal definitions of physical proximity make it “nonstandard intimacy”

- Intimate experiences in heteronormative culture are limited to couples in private. So you can’t experience pleasure with strangers, especially sexual pleasure. ASMR falls into a zone where “the spillage of eroticism into everyday social life seems transgressive in a way that provokes normal aversion”

- ASMR pleasure ranges from relaxation to eroticism. A lot of creators claim it is non-sexual. The affective charge of ASMR emerges w/o standard ‘closeness’ (not in romantic couple context, not physically close in proximity) – so it is reluctantly placed in nonstandard intimacy.

- Even though it is non-normative, creators still rely on normative scenarios of intimacy to provide emotional content behind the affective charge. Intimate care is provided by females. There is often a child-mother relationship being built between viewer and creator. Even when men make these videos, they participate in tasks gendered as female.

But female creators are choosing to do this – some empowerment? Do they get paid?

Summary: digital and physical

- Tho enabled thru tech, ASMR still relies on attention to the body and its sensations. Exists thru video streaming platforms, low tech, is sensual thru reclaiming care paradigms of personal attention, touch and meditation thru distant intimacy. In sci-fi, digital pleasure enabled thru computers – films that imagine pleasure as a drug that hooks the brain to a computer, “a cyborg high”. Asmr stands between – addiction is not only pleasure but intimacy, relationship is not only distant but anonymous.

- Ideal cyborg – uses computer to reinstate the body in shared experiences, rather than leaving out the body purely for mental digital experience. ASMR follows this dictum to the letter, uniting a group of people who use the archive provided by the Internet to focus intensely on a sensation triggered by the impression of a body transmitted through the ear in a nonnormative public experience of pleasure and distant intimacy.

- Asmr relies on the intimacy and care. Relaxation carried through emotional content, not just the sounds. Asmr uses tech to create new access to pleasure. “the ASMR community allows us to examine what intimacy will look like as we are increasingly linked to each other through the Internet rather than in person.”

- Distant intimacy breaks with heteronormative culture, releasing a digital-enabled intimacy that is a queer intimacy. While ASMR videos as shared on YouTube draw on real-world paradigms of care, the attachments that ASMRers have to videos beyond their sensory power helps us as media scholars to envision a future where these queer experiences of computer-enabled intimacy are as emotionally compelling as those of maternal care, personal touch, or sex. Whatever the affect created, it is clear that distant intimacy carries emotional value, and that these sensations can be released, by strangers and acquaintances, remotely through digital networks.

There are more noteworthy things to discuss, but I’ll end the notes here as there is already more than enough to digest.

Ideas

Create art that lies between ASMR, oddly satisfying videos (another topic I researched that felt close to ASMR), trance/visionary art aesthetic, music video, and modern witchcraft – providing vids that can be of service, as a form of queer care (nonstandard intimacy). Because for me, behind art, is a desire to relieve suffering through providing pleasure, a desire to care for the world and its creatures, to disrupt the status quo.

Maybe create a device or a platform/software to share the videos in their own context?

#theory

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majestic-singing · 7 years ago

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One Lovely Time

Word count: 1,811

Pairing(s): Platonic LAMP/CALM, romantic logicality if that’s how you want to see it

Warning(s): possibly scary ?? (idk kinda doubt it but I'll put it here just in case), swearing, the woman from The Grudge makes an appearance, I think that’s it but tell me if there’s more

Summary: The four sides are having a horror movie marathon and all the sides, except for Roman, suggest to watch it in Roman’s room (he has the softest bed, it’s like lying on a cloud). Roman tries to tell them otherwise, for some odd reason, but the other’s don’t listen to him. They decide on The Grudge for the first movie they watch. Horror ensues, both in the movie and outside in the real world.

A/N: first time posting a story to Tumblr, so I hope I'm getting this right and it looks fine! I’m still trying to get a hang of this site so bare with me! I haven’t watched The Grudge in a long time so I don't know if the scene I describe is in the first movie or the second movie (if anyone even knows which scene I describe I kinda purposefully made it a little vague). Anyway, constructive criticism is always welcome! Enjoy the story!

None of the sides really ever watch horror movies, honestly. Logan had no fear of them, he knew they weren’t real. Virgil isn’t frightened by them either, but he does complain about the movie genre a lot. Characters in horror movies are as stupid as a pile of logs in most of them. Roman doesn't mind them, but he doesn’t like them either. And Patton... well, it doesn’t take a lot to scare him, honestly.

But one Halloween, Patton insisted they have a horror movie marathon. Why exactly? Honestly, the other three sides had no clue.

And when Patton insists on something, he insists. So, after a few minutes of refusing, the other sides eventually give in after the all too familiar puppy dog eyes are pulled out, and the moral side cheers.

“This is a horrible idea, but at the very least we should watch it some place comfy.” Virgil grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Logan adjusted his glasses. “Yes. I suggest someone’s room, preferably not Virgil’s for obvious reasons. I do not think Patton’s would be the best either.”

“Oh, oh! Why don’t we watch it in Roman’s room? He has the softest bed out of all of us!” Patton suggested, grinning like a big dork. Poor Patton, a daft fool who’s grin won't last two seconds once the movie starts.

Roman had been mostly silent after they all caved in. He honestly didn't really care what they watched or where they watched the movie. Well, that was until now. Not wanting to draw suspicion of any kind, he tried to steer them clear of that idea. “H-Hey, why don't we just watch it in the living room! I mean, the couch is always a comfy place and I feel like it has a very, very good atmosphere for movies, yeah?”

Virgil shook his head. “Nah. If I fall asleep on the couch my back is going to be totally messed up.” Way worse than if he slept on the floor surprisingly. He still has no idea why. “You do have the bigger TV in your room and your bed can fit us much easier than the couch.”

“Virgil does have a point,” Logan said. “I think your room has far more of a comforting aura and I am sure we all can agree that we will need it tonight if we partake in watching these type of films.”

Roman spluttered a little. “Heh- uh, maybe not- I mean, surely-”

“Please, please, please! Roman, please! I’ll make your favorite breakfast in the morning!” Patton begged, looking at Roman with those big brown eyes and pouting lip and-

“Fine!” The royal caved in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. It wouldn’t be that bad. He just wouldn’t think about the movie, just wouldn't pay attention to the movie. Everything would be a-okay and no harm will come to him or the others. Gosh, he didn't even understand why Patton wants to suffer through a horror mov-

Before Roman knew it they were all cuddled up on his very soft and very comfy bed. A huge bowl of popcorn was between them, easy access for everyone. The movie started, all deciding on watching The Grudge for their first movie. Logan, Virgil, and Roman both knew it will most likely only be one movie before Patton’s shaking and holding back tears. They’ll switch the movie genre from horror to Disney and sooth the scared side to sleep.

At least, that’s what Roman planned how it will end. Hoped that’s how it will end.

Logan is on the far left, followed by Patton, Roman, then Virgil on the end.

Patton’s already clinging onto Logan in the first ten minutes of the movie. Logan is used to Patton’s hugs and such by now, but this?

The nerd looked over to the other two, pleading silently for help. Virgil just smirked and mouthed ‘relax’ before going back to the movie. Roman smiled reassuringly and silently instructed him on how to hold Patton the best.

It was the least he could do, plus it kept his mind off the movie.

As the movie progressed, however, Roman could feel his skin itching nervously. The film was really starting to get to him.

He tried to ignore it, he truly did, but he just couldn’t.

Roman wasn’t quite sure on specifics, but during the scene with the lady and the house phone in her apartment is when things started to go downhill, he thought. Once the gurgling, rattling noise the Grudge makes in the movie sounded through that stupid phone, his blood ran cold.

Patton whimpered softly in Logan’s arms, clinging onto his black polo for dear life.

Since Logan was too busy with Patton, he doesn't notice how Roman stiffened his body up completely and gripped his sleeve so tight his knuckles turned white. His eyes screwed shut tightly, willing the movie away from his mind the best he can.

But Virgil noticed.

The anxious side raised his eyebrows and softly whispered to the Prince, “Princey, dude, what’s wro-”

Just before Virgil could finish his sentence, just before the woman on the screen was killed, everything in Roman’s room went out.

The lamp on the bedside table that Logan insisted they keep on shut off. The fairy lights on the headboard go dark. The TV went static for a second before shutting off as well.

All four sides were plunged into complete darkness.

Patton gripped onto Logan even tighter as he yelped, visibly panicked even without anyone being able to see him. “W-What’s going on?! Why is everything off?”

Logan squinted, trying to see something. “I am not sure,” He decided to say. “However, I am sure everything is alright, Patton.” Logic reached over and felt for the switch to the lamp.

Click.

Nothing.

“Hm. That is odd. The light won't turn on.”

“It won't turn on?!” Oh dear.

“Patton, shh. It will be alright.”

Virgil reached over, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. Or was that his arm? Nevertheless, wherever he set his hand, he could feel the other shaking. “Roman? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

The floorboards creaked.

Logan and Patton turn their attention to Roman. They can’t see him, but they can feel the energy he was radiating, not even trying to hide it.

Scared.

There’s something else, but they can't quite pinpoint what. “R-Roman?” Patton murmured softly, pushing his own fear aside for a moment to help his kiddo out.

Roman’s breath was shallow. Hands clasped together, fingers tangled and tight. His shaking grew as the floorboards creaked once again.

“I-I’m sorry... I-I’m so s-sorry-” Roman finally spoke and it sounded like he was about to cry. His voice was shaky and cracking, sounding frightened and... guilty.

The other’s are completely flabbergasted. They don’t understand. They are confused.

“Roman, what are you talking about? Did this... blackout happen because you are frightened?” Logan piped in, voice soothing and soft. Roman doesn't find it soothing. Nothing seemed soothing at this point.

Before anyone has time to speak, a noise sounded and echoed against the bedroom walls.

A sort of gurgling, rattling sound. A sound that all four sides know exactly what it was.

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. He felt like he was drenched in ice water.

Patton’s never felt so afraid. His whole body froze, his shaking stopping. He couldn’t breath.

Logan felt a sort of dread in his chest that squeezed at his lungs and heart. Goosebumps popped up and littered his skin. Is this what being scared feels like? Is this fear?

It’s obvious the noise isn’t coming from the speakers on the TV. They wished it came from there.

The eerie sound came again, closer this time.

Logan believed he had gone mad. It’s not real. He must have fallen asleep during the movie. This is a dream.

Virgil was on the same boat with Logan of it not being real. This had to be some sick prank. But... Roman would never go that far, would he? To scare them out of their skin like this.

Patton’s shaking. He believed it. He believed the ghost of Kayako Saeki was here in the spirit. Here to take their souls from their body. He’s quietly sobbing.

Roman is silent. He’s still shaking, Virgil can feel it, but he’s silent.

“Princey, I swear... I swear to fucking god, if you’re... if you're fucking with us, I’m going to personally... personally fuck your shit up-” Virgil finally broke the silence. He was holding painfully onto Roman’s arm (or shoulder) now, nails digging straight through his coat and into the skin.

Roman’s arm twitched in discomfort, and he was silent for a few seconds before speaking. His voice was surprisingly steady, compared to how it was the last time he spoke. “I wish this was intentional. I really wish it was. It would be easier to control then.”

Logan could feel something grip the sheets on his left side, the side where the edge of the bed was.

His heart picked up speed quickly, very quickly.

Logical reasoning: it’s his own hand.

But it’s not. Both hands were on Patton. Both hands were holding Patton.

Logical reasoning: it’s Patton’s hands.

Falsehood, both of the moral side’s hands were holding onto the fabric of his shirt on his chest.

Logical reasoning: error. Error. ERROR. E R R O R.

Another hand came down, clapping onto Logan’s thigh. Logan didn’t move, only held onto Patton tighter. Patton could feel hair tickle his cheek. It’s long. He imagined its black. Pitch black.

The gurgling, rattling sound comes again, this time right in the logical’s ear. His teeth are chattering and clattering together without him noticing.

The first hand from before moved and dug and held onto his stomach.

How does one breath? Logan asked himself mentally.

“I’m truly sorry.” Roman spoke again, voice barely above a whisper.

The lights flickered on. The TV stayed off.

...

....

Nothing. Nothing is in the room except the sides. No hands are on Logan. No hair is on Patton.

There was a whimper.

It was Virgil.

“G-Guys...” Virgil’s voice was so quiet. So scared. “I-If she’s... if she’s b-behind me... I accept death...”

Oh, classic Virgil.

The side’s slowly turned to look at the anxious side.

Patton screamed.

Logan’s body went rigid and his eyes rolled back in his head. He fainted.

Roman had no reaction.

There she was, The Grudge. Right behind Virgil and peaking over his shoulder, eyes wide and hair falling over the anxious side’s shoulders, the iconic noise she always resonated sounding loud in everybody’s ears, but mostly in Virgil’s, jaw seeming to be completely unhinged.

No logic can explain this.

No logic was needed when you were in the room of Creativity.

In the room that can make fantasy, a reality.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic

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nickrbockr · 7 years ago

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Simon Vs Fan Fic: Chapter 2 - Drive

Ao3

Warning - Explicit Scene

“Nora, I don’t want to go to this as much as you don’t want me to go to this, but we have to go to this. Go.”

Dad was protesting with Nora as he was honest when he said he didn’t want to go. Nora is now in high school and I guess they have this new required evening orientation to meet all staff. I think it may have been a way for the administration to try to get ahead of what happened to me in high school as they try to find out a bit too much. Oops. Well, no, oops to Martin. Martin’s Oops.

Mom, the rule follower, kept telling them it was required and discussion was off the table. She also may be over correcting to be sure her youngest doesn’t have a similar experience as her middle child. It seems Alice had an average experience with high school, so Mom is going for the three bears experience for high school and ensure it’s a positive one. Nora is going to hate it.

“Si, I’m sure you’ll be okay here by yourself.” Nora said, emphasizing self portion of the word. Maybe before I told Mom and Dad about proposing, that would have got under my skin. I know the old me would have let it. But I’m not the old me. I’m Simon 2.0 with a Bram-processor. Ugh, I cheesed myself out there. Am I Dad now?

Mom looking wanting at me, begging for me to tell Nora with the slightest hint of brow furrowing and lip turning. She should have been an actress because she has subtly down to a craft. Meryl Streep herself would gracefully nod in defeat. I smile and use it an opportunity to tease Mom for torturing Nora and Dad.

“Actually, Nora,” I begin, using my stage education to not indicate, but inform. I shifted my weight on both of my legs and stuck my hands in my pocket. “there is something I want to tell you.”

Mom beamed and Dad rolled his eyes, picking up quickly what I was laying down, but not stopping me because he knew he would get to watch. Dad was not one to ruin a potentially fun joke at Mom’s expense, because much like good thoughts after tequila, they’re rare.

“O…kay?” Nora replied suspiciously, crossing her arms. Mom set down her purse to pull out her phone.

“Wow…uhm…okay…” I covered my mouth as if I was becoming emotional. I saw Dad in my peripheral stifling a full on belly laugh. “Nora…as I’ve gotten older and…” Fake blinking a tear out of my eye. “What I’m trying to say is, Mom and Dad don’t care if Bram is coming over anymore.”

Mom’s hopeful face turned into one of ‘listen here you little shit’ flat mouth expression. With a sigh, she threw her phone back in her purse.

“Bram is still in town?” Nora beamed. She was such an interesting person because Nora has known Nick and Leah for years, but she still dismisses them like they’re annoying apparitions who just won’t leave our house. Bram on the other hand. Bram just gets Nora and they have vibed ever since. Is it weird I’m kinda jealous? I had to work to get on Nora’s good side and Bram…just Bramed his way into our lives and made more than just me happy.

“He leaves tomorrow morning for a long semester. He’s telling me had to take six extra credit hours this first semester to get done on time so we may have fewer opportunities to see each other this year.”

“That’s okay, you guys are good. It’ll work.” Nora uttered quickly. I think I figured out why Nora and Bram get along. Both are introverts and both appear to be quiet until you get them around the right people.

“All of you are headed out already?”

That voice. That voice! Alice stood with a small bag on her shoulder.

“H-H-Hey! Allie!” Dad shouted. He then whispered something into her ear and she shook her head.

“Sorry Dad, mom texted me first, you have to go to this.”

“What are you doing home? Thought you weren’t going to get here till after I left?”

“I made it work, Si. This is the last year for sure we will all be able to be in the house at the same time for sure.” Alice was always traveling for her job. I was never sure what she did and she made sure to keep it that way. I think she liked the air of mystery around her person. All I know is that it had to do with IT.

With Alice and Nora here, I guess I could tell both of them now about Bram and me. Mom would certainly enjoy it and may cause her to forget to be angry at me, Dad, and Nora later.

“Well, since you are both here now. I wanna tell you both something.”

“You’re finally giving Miley Cyrus a shot,” guessed Nora.

“You’re taking my advice and wearing normal cut jeans,” assaulted Alice.

“Okay, this wasn’t a guessing game. But seriously. I just told Mom and Dad a few days ago…but…”

Why am I nervous again? Good, bubbly, positive nervous. Bram and me touching nervous.

“I’m going to ask Bram to marry me.”

Nora covered her hands with her palms and I’ve never seen her do that. Alice placed her chin on fists and smiled how Alice smiled. Mom had somehow snuck her phone out of her purse and filmed again, much to my eye roll and Dad was hoping this could get them out of going to the conference.

“No, Jack, Nora, get in the car.” Mom said through choked back tears.

“Are you staying?” I asked Alice, simultaneously hoping she wasn’t for Bram’s sake and also because I hadn’t seen her in awhile and also would love to catch up.

“No sir, I texted Bram to be sure you weren’t going to be nice and see if I wanted to stay. It’s your last night with him, I’ll go busy myself until late tonight.”

I both hate and love how close my siblings are to Bram. But damn do they all know what they’re doing.

“We’ll talk all about your proposal tomorrow morning. Besides, the less I know the less damaging I can be. Wish the same could be said about Mom.”

“You have no idea.”

Buzz.

I’m outside :)

Come on in, door’s open

Dancing ellipsis only fluttered my heart when it came from Bram.

Come out, I have a surprise.

The heart flutter evolved into a full warm dance in my chest. I opened the door and there was Bram, on the curb, leaning on his dad’s convertible with aviators that perfectly shaped his face.

“Dad let me borrow it for a few hours, let’s go for a drive, stud.”

College was so good to Bram. He started regular gym schedules Freshman year of college and hasn’t stopped. His shoulders broadened and filled with tone muscle that dripped to his firm pectorals and ended settling on his toned abs. He had the upside down triangle upper body shape and I can’t say the sentence without becoming aroused.

“Sounds good, let me tell Alice. Alice! I’m going on a drive with Bram!”

“Great cause I have to poop and I didn’t want to have to do that out okay thanks love you bye!”

Jesus, Alice. Bram must have heard because I saw his smile.

Driving down the Georgia dusk with Bram was indescribable. It was still light enough for both Bram and I to validate wearing sunglasses so we could look cool while in the car. Bram doesn’t have to try to look cool, though. He just radiates it without trying, and it’s what makes me love him even more.

The only thing that would make this drive better would be some music. I look at Bram and he immediately knows what I’m going to ask.

“Yes, pick a song.”

Is he that deep in my head already? I love you, I love you, I love you. Did you hear that? Maybe he did because he just looked at me and his lips curled slightly. Okay, Bram, I will pick a song, but something you’ve recently purchased. I go through his phone and see a band I never heard of. Okay, sounds promising. A song called Nervous Dancing? Sounds like he was thinking of me when he purchased it. I hit play.

“Oh, Nick recommended these guys to me. I kinda like em, especially the song you’re playing.”

But your eyes are dumbing me down and I can't take mine off of you

The lyrics rolled out of the speakers as the wind tussled my hair. Nick was Bram's roommate since Freshman year.

Bram came to a red light and grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. I let out slow happy exhale. This is what I want. Forever. I don’t want things like this to ever end. Light touching from Bram is willing mind control, like I can feel him ghost into my body and he moves me and I sit back and let him. I lay my head on his shoulder.

“We’ve done this three times already and this will be the last time, but it’s always so difficult to do after being here all summer with you.” Bram pined, words pouring softly into my ear.

I smile because I was thinking the same thing.

“It’s what we get for finding the person we love in high school.” I reply, sounding like the more emotionally stable one.

My view of you’s cutting through the bitter storms of the sea

“There’s not a day that goes by that don't regret that I had my stupid crush on you freshman year. I don’t care that it made me feel weird, that I didn’t know what do to with it. Simon, you’re so worth it. You were worth every ounce of my stress and figuring myself out. I don’t know if I ever told you that.”

The wind licking my face could have been the reason my eyes began to water, but come on, that’s not true. I rub my head deeper into his shoulder.

Let’s just drive I wanna see what the wind does to your hair

“You never needed to tell me that, Bram. I always felt it.” I kiss his neck and it makes him shiver and exhale in palpitations.

We drive for another ten minutes. The houses and sky are becoming darker and the sun leaves a orange-yellow lip on the horizon. Bram removes his glasses and his brown eyes find mine. Smiles grow on our faces.

“Let’s get back to your house.” He recommends.

I know I shouldn’t be, but I continue to kiss the soft skin of his neck as Bram’s musk found its way into my nose.

“Si…be careful,” He replied airly, motioning down at his jeans. I could see the outline of himself press greater and greater at his jeans, begging to be let free.

Even after all this time, it feels like a new discovery of passion each time Bram and I are able to spend time with one another. We made a system of visiting one another during the school years, but nothing is better than the summers when we’re together almost every day. Some days we do nothing, some days we do everything. I love both of those days. I love Bram Greenfeld. Soccer calves and all.

The drive home seems to take much longer. Were there this many lights? Were the roads this long and winding? I swallow saliva and anticipation. Bram licks his lips, a tell-tale sign he's feeling the same way as I do. Hunger looks the same on all faces.

We walk into the house as we kick off our shoes (Mom’s orders). I saw the deep brown eyes I fell for time and time again and it awakened a warm sensation below my stomach. He bewitched me and I was under his spell. I fell into his lips and pressed sensually against his body. My lips were able to split his and our tongues met.

That was always the first thing that got me going. I will never get sick of Bram’s kiss. I stop him before we go further (and believe me it would have) and I drag him behind me like he’s my Fay Wray and I’m climbing the Empire State building.

My room hasn’t changed much from high school. The only difference is that now I have to hide condoms and lube from Mom who, as she claims, ‘just likes to clean my room while I’m away’ as a reason to snoop. I know it’s in a loving mother sort of snoopy way, but not when you’re trying to hide your gay sex necessities from your heterosexual mother.

I shut the door and lock it, having since my sophomore year in college convinced my dad to install lockable doors. Bram couldn’t seem to wait as he already had his shirt off. The sun had set now, but light from the street creeped in through my blinds and cast light against his gorgeous frame. I couldn’t help myself when I pushed him onto my bed, but I wasn’t in control of my body, Bram was.

I straddled his lap and I could feel him pressed against my thigh, a warm, hard part of his body pleading to escape their denim prison. Bram’s pupils dilated as I kissed the skin next to his belly button and he let out a small, innocent moan. It made his penis pulsate and I saw it move slightly in his jeans. Enough is enough, it would be inhumane not to assist him in this troubled time.

I unbuttoned his jeans and carefully pulled them down as to not bend it in a hurtful way. It bobbed back and was allowed more room in his boxer briefs. I can never get over how…how do I put this in the best way possible…how god-damn big Bram is. He kicks of his jeans and I go to kiss his inner thigh just below the fabric of his underwear. While I’m doing this, I’m unbuttoning my own jeans and pull off my underwear with it as well.

“Si, get up here right now.”

Yes, sir. I shoot up and Bram sees I’m now naked except for my shirt, my own penis pointing out from under it. Bram licks his lips and commands me towards him with his eyes. I sit on the bed next to him and he pulls off my shirt.

So you know how I said Bram made a gym regimen, I didn’t want to fall behind either. I’m not the most fit, but I’m no longer the lankey teen I was in high school. My definition isn’t near what Bram’s is, but I’m happy with it and Bram loves it. He kisses my chest as I play with his penis still inside his boxer briefs. Sighs and moans escape between his lips as he moves down to my chest.

“Bram, take them off.”

He complies and they fly off the bed and now both of us are staring at one another, naked, erect. I crawl to him across the bed with my butt high in the air and stop just before my lips touch the tip. I breathe on it a few times and I can hear Bram’s moans aching for me to put my lips around it. I comply and I am able to go about half way down on it.

“Oha,” Bram whispers out as I’m moving back and forth with my head. Giving Bram a blow job always gets me hard to the point of it hurting. I love being the person doing this to him. I love that I’m the only one who ever has, and I love that I hope to be the only one who gets to. I can feel his pleasure as his body aches from it, his soft skin and muscle felt under my hands.

After a minute, I am able to get down to the base of his penis. It took me about a year to perfect, but I love doing it because every time I do, Bram makes a noise that makes me hot and sweaty and harder than ever. I come up for some air and he pushes me back onto my bed, my head on my pillows and he returns the favor. His lips and mouth are so warm and soft around my penis and I swear I could come right now if I needed to. But I would never take sex with Bram away from me. Or Bram. Or the universe.

Bram moves up to my head and caresses his tongue into my mouth and I can feel my body relax into his pleasure, his heaven he’s bringing me to. I move my hand to where I hide the lube and move it onto the bed, never, EVER stopping kissing him. When I go for the condom, Bram’s strong arm stops me.

“No. not tonight.”

No sex!? Wait, what?!

“What?”

“No condom, not tonight.”

I’ve never had unprotected sex with Bram, but…I didn’t fight his request. We’ve only been with each other and I will be asking him to marry me and I don’t want to have him wear a condom either. I want to feel Bram. I want to feel every inch of Bram inside me with no interference. Thinking about it begets pre-come and I see it glisten as it drips down onto my stomach.

“Yes. Absolutely. Bram.”

Bram bites his lip and his eyes flutter. “Say it again.”

I add more heat to it, “Bram.”

His penis jumped from arousal and I knew it had to happen. Now.

I apply lube to his hot, hard penis as he uses some to massage it around my butt hole. Bram is always good at making sure the lube is little warm in his hand before applying it, and I can feel his finger prepare it for what’s about to come. His lips returned to mine and we sat on our knees on my bed, exchanging kisses and moans between what I only know is the highest of pleasures. I would have never thought I’d feel this with a person, and Bram discovered it. We discovered it together.

“I need you. Right now. Si. I need it.” Bram stumbled out of his mouth between kisses.

I have never been harder in my life. I’m about to have bareback sex with the love of my life who I will be asking to marry me. I need it more.

“Right now. Bram, I need….Bram.”

Bram lays me down on my back and I could feel his head slowly push into me until I was encompassing half of it. He was about to pull slowly back and I grabbed his back.

“N..no, all of it.”

Bram made a worried, but aroused, but horny, but surprised, but loving face as he plunged deeper into me and the feeling was absolutely incredible. I felt his pubic hair against my butt and Bram’s eyes were beginning to roll around his head, floating in pleasure.

None of it hurt. The only thing I felt was the most connected to him I’ve ever felt. It was not longer Si and Bram. We were one. No condom, just love. Just us.

He began to thrust and the feeling of his hard penis unencumbered by latex stroke my insides. It was a feeling that was even better than all of the best sex we’ve had in the past. Our faces were one of confused pleasure as our mouths hung open and our eyebrows danced attempting to figure out how to showcase what we were both feeling.

Bram’s sweat and our mixed as he moved me close to him and increased the speed of this thrusts. His arms were behind my back and mine were wrapped around his broad shoulders. Our chests touched and created more heat and sweat and pleasure and love.

I pushed him back onto his knees, him still inside me and I began to ride him. It felt. So. Good. His faces, his lip bites, his hungry eyes and tongue. All of it made this first time without protection something spiritual.

“Si…It’s..I’m already,” Bram moaned out.

I wrapped my legs around him and tilted him back on top of me as his speed increased even more.

“Do it.” I moaned.

I couldn’t help myself after Bram nodded his head at me like it was an order.

I came. He came.

I felt him pulsate inside of me.

I felt a part of him was now a part of me.

I felt a part of me was now a part of him.

I felt we were floating. Time stopped and we shared something divine.

Maybe I’m looking into this. Maybe it was the best because our bodies knew something our hearts didn’t. Maybe it was divine because he was going to be mine forever.

Our choral panting brought us down from the divine dimension and we returned to being Bram and Simon. He went to the bathroom first and I followed with my phone, looking up how to properly ensure how to be the most sanitary now that we’re…we’re no longer needing protection. We don’t need it anymore. It served its purpose.

I flushed the toilet and Bram was half awake on the bed.

“Si. I love you. I love you so much it hurts, like I want to become a bigger person to store more love.”

I amble to him and crawl into bed. I lay my head on his chest.

“Bram, I’m so in love with you that it drives me crazy. It drives me to be a better me. I want this forever.” I tip my toe into the water of his thoughts.

“I want this forever too. You and me and…lube and no condoms.”

We both laugh as I slap him lightly on the chest. Soon after, we both fall asleep.

#love simon #simonverse #simonvs #svthsa #love #marriage #gay #gay love #simon x bram #simon spier #bram greenfeld #love simon fanfiction #love simon fic #my fic

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thisiswhereifall · 7 years ago

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Struggling to continue but I'm back

Hi! I'm back! Maybe not for long, but here I am!

College has been keeping me busy but I promise to do my best to keep contributing to this wonderful fandom. I love this ship so much, and it needs more art and fics. I'm proud of us, guys!

Anyway, I sort of mixed the prompts Secrets, Peanut Butter Cookies, and Headphones here to make up for lost time. Thank you all for your patience!

----------- o -----------

Keith wouldn't say that he actually had an idea of what's going on, but he did have one.

Keith normally never cared about anything that didn't involve fighting, war, or his identity and he still doesn't.

Keith had a habit of not setting issues aside and he does not intend to try solving a problem later on if it could be solved now.

Keith had an idea of what's going on, and even though he would never care about what comes of it, he will most definitely not just set it aside. It might affect teamwork, after all. Might.

And it all started with one simple question.

“Pidge, can I borrow your headphones?”

Keith usually didn't borrow anyone else's stuff. He'd prefer improvising his own method and equipment than owe anyone a favor, and it wasn't because he was cold and anti-social like the girl in front of him always says. He just wasn't used to kindness, being alone for most of his life. It could use some getting used to, now that he literally lived with a bunch of people unrelated to him in any shape or form – they were full human and he was not – and he would have to make a few adjustments to his lifestyle.

And although he will never admit it – and he doesn't plan to – he really missed music. It kept him company back on Earth, when he went for days with no one to talk to or care for him. Aside from training, Keith really liked music.

But he wasn't going to ask Coran or Allura to blast his favorite bands through Altean speakers. That would blow his cover and worse, get judged for his taste. Not like his taste was bad, he just knew that someone – namely, Lance – never fails to make fun of completely normal stuff.

So, he had no choice but to ask the only person he knew wouldn’t blabber about anything unnecessary.

“What do you need my headphones for?” Pidge's emphasis on the possessive pronoun made Keith cringe a little. He almost forgot that the girl values her equipment as if they were rare treasures(they are). Keith swallowed, and the two engaged in a staring contest when Pidge looked up from the machine she was building. Keith could feel Green's eyes on him, too, and he finally figured that he was, in reality, in the Green Paladin's territory.

He didn't break the eye contact, because he didn't want to seem nervous. “Uh, I…” Oh, great. He stuttered. “I just wanted to listen to something while training…” His voice lowered and he held his head low.

When Pidge eyed him, he already knew what her answer would be.

“That's… really a good thing to know. I didn't know you enjoyed music.” Pidge commented, and Keith almost yelled at her when she smirked mischievously. “But, uh, I…” Her voice trailed off, and she started adjusting her glasses. Keith knew – she was trying to find her words and was really nervous doing so.

As much as he wanted to listen to some music – and he just found out that Coran had access to Earth music earlier during breakfast talk – he felt bad making Pidge anxious. She was never really good with words. “You don't let anyone borrow your equipment.” The sentence came out colder than he expected it would.

Alarmed, Pidge's eyes widened in panic. “W-W-Wait! Okay, so maybe you're right, I don't let people borrow or touch my stuff, but I swear it's nothing personal, like, I like you, wait no! I only like you as a friend, nothing mushy or whatever, so it would be okay for you to borrow my things, but I just really feel uncomfortable when someone borrows my stuff and I swear I really like you – as a friend! Because I like someone else, and…”

Keith's ears perked up.

“Come again?” He immediately cut her off, and he could see the terror in her eyes while she tried to adjust her glasses frantically. Knowing that she wouldn't repeat any of the things she said, he decided to cut to the chase, as usual. “ You like someone?”

“I-It's not like that!” Keith was amused now. He had never seen Pidge so flustered before. Her confident façade faded and all he could see now was a girl who was desperately trying to hide her embarrassment. “I like him as a friend, too!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. If it was a friend, he was one hundred percent sure that the person was in this ship. After all, Pidge didn't seem like she had anyone she could call a friend before. Much like him.

Before he could push any further, Pidge turned away from him, working on her project once again. “Look, I'm really busy and sorry for the, uh, headphone thing. I need to finish this today, too.” And Keith left, deciding to ignore the fact that her hands were so sweaty and the tools kept slipping from her grasp.

Of course, that didn't stop him from training. For a while, he completely forgot about the earlier incident while he was facing the gladiator, not to mention, he lost interest quickly. It was a personal matter and he didn't want to pry any further into a silly thing.

That was until he and Hunk were sitting in the common room, and the door opened.

“Hey, Hunk, got any food in the kitchen?” Keith looked up to see a certain blue idiot by the door. Nothing special. Just Lance. He would ask Hunk for food every now and then, and this was normal.

Except he came in wearing Pidge's headphones around his neck.

“Uh, I think I left some of the improvised peanut butter stuff thing on the table.” Hunk answered. “We also have the alien bread that Coran really liked. He got a whole bunch of them from the Space Mall.” The Yellow Paladin quickly followed up. Lance tilted his head, confusion written all over his face.

“I don't really like peanut butter. Did you know peanuts cause acne? Not having any of that.” Keith blinked at Lance as he talked. As the Blue Paladin rubbed his head and turned to leave, Keith opened his mouth to speak.

“Did you just take that without permission?” Keith's accusing voice caused Lance to turn around with a scowl on his face. Hunk looked back and forth between the two, puzzled.

“What?” Lance replied without delay, taken aback by the sudden random question from his rival. Keith didn't seem pleased about having to point out what exactly he was talking about, but he did nonetheless. Lance eyes narrowed when Keith raised a finger to point at him – was that his middle finger? – or not at him, but his neck.

And when Lance's hand traced the object around his neck, his scowl disappeared upon realization. “Excuse me? I asked her nicely and she told me it was okay.” He turned to leave again. “Besides, she lets me use it every night before going to bed.” And with that, Lance left, leaving Keith to wonder about what just happened.

Lance passed by the common room again soon after, holding a plate with two peanut butter(?) sandwiches as he went to enter the opposite hallway from the kitchen. Didn't he say he didn't like peanut butter? Huh.

Of course, Keith knew there was something weird going on, but he hardly gave much thought on it. The days proceeded as normal, and the battles were won flawlessly – except that one time Hunk failed to break through an enemy barrier because he thought his Lion could, and Shiro had to save him from being melted by the nuclear material of the enemy defenses. The druids were getting more creative in their weapons.

Oh, and that one time, too.

It was just one little thing, no big deal. If Allura didn't say anything, Keith wouldn't notice – he was too busy maneuvering through the glaciers covered by the thick fog in the ice planet.

“I can't seem to find Lance. Paladins, the fog is interfering with the castle's sensors!” Allura's voice was glitching through the comms and Keith could tell that the Lion's sensors were also weakening. He immediately pulled on the controls, almost hitting a huge glacier, if not only for Red's agility.

“Lance—with me…--- found--- stuck in the – requ-- ck-up now!” Pidge's voice cut through the comms and it caught Keith's attention. “What?” He heard Shiro respond. Keith made a choice to fly up and out of the atmosphere, trying to receive the message.

“I said, Lance is with me! He found the prisoners stuck in a cave, we request back-up now!” Pidge's voice was loud and clear now, and Keith stopped himself from asking something entirely different.

Hunk beat him to it.

“You didn't split up? I thought we were supposed to split up. I go close to the ground, Keith would fly across the glaciers, Shiro and Pidge were supposed to fend off the incoming Galra ships, and Lance would--"

There was an air of awkward silence in the comms. It was a very short silence, almost unnoticeable, or maybe Keith was just overthinking things.

“Never mind that now, Paladins, we've got company!” Allura shouted, and a humongous blast caught everyone's attention. Without pressing on the issue further, they formed Voltron and took on the enemies with ease.

Nobody questioned anything further nor did the two receive scolding from either Shiro or Allura. It was like an unspoken message between all of them.

The next morning(?), a pissed-off Keith stormed out of the training room to drag out a certain Paladin who was late for training. As usual. As he neared Lance's room, the door opened before he could come close, and he didn't know why, but he hurriedly hid in a corner.

“Aw, come on, Pidge! That was my favorite song!” Lance's loud voice could be heard throughout the corridor, even though he was in his room. To Keith's surprise, it was Pidge who came out of the door, and to add up to his current surprise, Pidge was actually awake this early. Everyone knew how hard she worked every night, so they don't force her to train in the morning with them.

But here she was, striding out of Lance's room with her headphones on-hand. “Yeah, sure, Lance. Tell that to Shiro or Keith, whoever comes to your room to drag you to the training room first.” She answered with a smug smirk. “Besides, I need my headphones for something today.”

“You just want an excuse to see me this early every morning.” Lance retorted, unknowingly making Pidge's face as red as Keith's jacket. “After all, who could resist my charming bedroom voi—oof!” A jab to his stomach was enough to make him shut up.

“Whatever, Lance.” Pidge rolled her eyes.

Keith tiptoed away from the scene as quietly as he could. At least he now knows why everytime he or Shiro was about to pick Lance up, he was already awake before they could even knock.

#plance #pidgance #plance month #pidgance month 2k17 #pidgancemonth2k17 #pidgance month #vld pidge #vld lance #flirtyrobot #vld #voltron #plance voltron #vld keith #katie holt #fanfic #headphones

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banditchika · 7 years ago

Text

noelle and akarsha’s very fun, very gay (study) date

word count: 4560

fandom: butterfly soup

ship: akarsha/noelle

author’s notes: i can’t believe i’ve done this? i mean. i can, just as i also know that i stayed up till four to finish this fic, and that w/o my friends i wouldn’t have had completed this at all. thank you @nytenchanter @trashikino @thereforebucket for beta-ing this hot mess!! i couldnt have done this without yall!! anyways please enjoy this fic, it isn’t of course any way associated with butterfly soup canon beyond being set immediately after the game. i really loved playing butterfly soup, n i hope other ppl give it a try too! you can download the game at itch.io!

This is a terrible idea. An awful idea. An idea of catastrophic potential, and she means that in the worst possible way. Just last night, Noelle had sat at her desk and scribbled out a full page of equations to calculate how terrible of an idea this is. Unfortunately, Akarsha is not someone who can be contained within equations.

Noelle drums her fingers against her leg, trying not to stare at her mother from the corner of her eye. The silence presses down on Noelle like a library’s worth of books, and she struggles to bite her tongue. The quiet makes her skin itch — but silence, at least, is bearable. It’s hardly as though speaking with her mother would be beneficial, anyways. Conversations always devolve into screaming matches unless Noelle bites her cheek hard enough to taste iron. No, she doesn’t need that today, of all days. Handling Akarsha in general is trial enough; she doesn’t need an argument with her mother on top of it. Speaking of Akarsha — where is she? Noelle chances a glance at the dashboard, watches the numbers blink green: 12:33, 12:33, 12:33, 12:34…

Her mother sighs and turns the radio on. Mandarin crackles through the speakers of their car. Noelle folds her arms, presses her forehead against the window. She hates this program. It’s news in the barest sense — opinion pieces at best and superstitious fear-mongering at the very worst; and not to forget, a commercial every intermission for beef balls that Noelle thinks Diya would like if Noelle didn’t hate them to the point of refusing to eat them. Noelle’s been listening to that same commercial since she was in fourth grade.

12:53. Noelle squints. Over fifteen minutes past the time they agreed to meet. She scans the front of the library for Akarsha’s ridiculous jacket, or even her stupid buns. Nothing. A few teenagers linger on the steps: a girl with glasses and a denim jacket, a man with spiky blonde hair and a red suit, and someone Noelle vaguely recognizes as an upperclassman.

No sign of Akarsha.

Noelle shifts uneasily. She pulls out her phone and flips it open, keying in Akarsha’s number with practiced efficiency. She could have set her to speed dial like she did Diya, but. Noelle won’t give Akarsha the satisfaction. She can already imagine the teasing that would ensue, and Noelle has better things to do than enable Akarsha’s tomfoolery.

“What are you doing?”

Noelle’s teeth find her cheek. She thinks better of biting down and shows her mom the phone screen, holding her tongue as her mother leans over the console to squint at it. Thank goodness Noelle hasn’t pulled up Akarsha’s contact page. She doesn’t know what she’d do if her mother decides to question Akarsha’s ridiculous icon.

At least her username is no longer YAOI SEME.

“Akarsha is late,” Noelle explains, voice strained. “She’s not here.”

“Then call her. Your friend is so irresponsible.” Noelle bites down. She agrees, but the way her mother twists her words burns at her. So Akarsha is her friend and not competition; but only when it’s convenient? Noelle should be used to this by now, but her patience wears thinner and thinner by the day. It’s worrying. Noelle, of all people, should have control over her emotions.

“How is this girl giving you so much trouble when she can’t even be punctual to a study date?” Noelle’s mother continues. Her teeth cut into her cheek: it’s beginning to feel tender. “You aren’t working hard enough. I’m going to buy new workbooks for you. Finish them when you come home.” Noelle tastes iron. Her mother takes her silence as acquiescence; she turns the knob of the radio with bony fingers. Noelle takes a deep breath and presses call.

Akarsha picks up on the third ring. “What’s cooler than being cool? Iiiiiice cold! Alright alright alright alri — ” “Where are you?” Noelle spits, chancing a glance at her mother. She does not look impressed, but is at least transfixed by whatever story the program anchor is spinning. “You’re twenty minutes late. You said you would be on the steps.”

“… Uh.” Noelle can picture Akarsha’s smile grow strained, eyes flicking away. “I am?”

“You are not!” “Seriously, I am! Come on dude, you’ve got your contacts on, right? I’m in front of the library.”

Noelle frowns. If this is one of Akarsha’s games —

She rolls down the window. The girl sitting on the steps, innocuous in her oversized glasses and denim jacket, raises a hand like a salute. She has a phone pressed to her ear.

“Hey, Frenchman. Missed me, now you gotta kiss me!” Akarsha’s grin is infuriatingly smug, even from thirty five feet away.

Noelle hangs up.

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

“That’s the first thing you say?” Akarsha whispers. “I guess you don’t want none unless I got buns, huh?” She swings her bookbag over her shoulder. Noelle glares at it. A bookbag — an actual, honest to goodness bookbag, without a hint of rainbow or iridescence anywhere. There aren’t even pins decorating it. Noelle didn’t think Akarsha owned anything that wasn’t calculated to be ridiculous and irritating.

“Be serious!” Noelle jabs her in the side. Akarsha stumbles and grabs at her arm, breath whooshing out of her lungs. Noelle doesn’t dare look over her shoulder, where her mother hovers like a vulture over a battlefield. Or Diya racing after a foul ball, or something requiring a similar amount of fervent focus.

“I am, dude, I am.” Akarsha pulls out a seat at a table hidden just behind the stacks and swoops into a bow, gesturing grandly at it. Noelle seethes. “C’mon, where’s the trust?”

She also pulls out a chair for Noelle’s mom. When she shakes her head, Akarsha favors her with a smile that doesn’t turn up the corners of her eyes and sits down. Noelle loathes the sight of it. Akarsha doesn’t look like herself — her foolish, irritating self. She’s wearing pants, for one thing. That should be a good sign. It’s not a good sign. Noelle pulls her things from her bookbag, and Akarsha does the same. Her school supplies are thankfully still her own: there’s Akarsha’s stupid bending pencil, an eraser shaped like a crayon, and — is that one of Noelle’s pens!? Akarsha said she’d returned it!

Noelle’s breath hisses out of her, and she wishes she were close enough to stomp on Akarsha’s toes.

[“Stop that.”] Her mother’s voice is gratingly loud from where she looms behind Noelle. [“You’ll sigh all your virtues away.”]

[“That isn’t scientific.”] Noelle tears a sheet of notebook paper more forcefully than she should. Akarsha doesn’t even lift her head, much less comment. [“It is impossible for virtue to manifest physically, much less have a unit of measurement.”]

[“Still. It’s a bad habit. Concentrate on your work.”] Noelle bites her cheek and writes her name with a heavy hand: upper right hand corner, name, date, and period.

Noelle isn’t one to put stock in miracles — those are for idiots and slackers, and she is neither — but Noelle is almost willing to become a believer when Akarsha — somehow! — manages to restrain herself from doing anything foolish in front of Noelle’s mother. It’s terrifying, frankly. Akarsha cups her cheek in her palm, turns her gaze towards her work, and then scribbles away without pause with Noelle’s (stolen!) pen. She doesn’t lift her head from her textbook, not even once. Her assignment, aside from sloppily boxed answers, is immaculate; no sign of little green men or ridiculously large-eyed anime characters in the margins. Akarsha hasn’t asked a single question: not even if pigeons have feelings.

Noelle is so busy sneaking glances at her that the nib of her own pen skitters across the edge of her paper, leaving an ugly line where a neat three should have been. Noelle sighs — her mother’s eyes bore into her back — and carefully whites it out.

It’s almost terrifyingly easy to fall into a routine. Akarsha is so quiet that Noelle can almost forget she’s there. If it weren’t for the way she flips the pen between her fingers, Akarsha would have blended into the library, just another faceless student against the backdrops of shelves and books. Noelle can almost imagine that she’s alone in her room, with nothing but the snake on her bed for company.

How disturbing. Akarsha is loud, irritating, her very presence like a desperate cry for attention. Noelle doesn’t like this.

[“I’m leaving.”] She nearly jumps when her mother speaks again, after nearly — Noelle checks her watch — half an hour of oppressive silence. Noelle says nothing, then startles when her mother presses a thin ten dollar bill into her hand. Her fingers close around it. [“Go buy lunch when you’re finished studying, then come home.”]

[“Alright.”] Her mother is in an unusually good mood. Noelle is accustomed to pushing and pushing and pushing without thanks — only the expectation that she’ll have to do even more, even better, striving for a finish line that moves further every time Noelle thinks she has it in sight. This is… unusual, but even Noelle gets pocket money sometimes. Like during New Years, when her parents parade her in front of their relatives and Noelle plays the violin, then patiently plays even more for curious aunts and uncles, eager to point at her and whisper to their own children. Sometimes, Noelle even gets to keep some of the crisp bills in those scented red envelopes. She saves those for the days that she manages to sneak away to visit a boba shop with Diya and Akarsha.

Noelle folds the bill into the plastic of her binder. Perhaps she’ll do that now. She feels full to bursting with questions as Akarsha lifts her head and politely — politely! — bids her mother goodbye. What. Noelle hadn’t known Akarsha was even capable of basic etiquette — or at least around her. She still remembers that disgusting D-triad fart. Animal.

With Noelle’s mother out of sight, Akarsha sighs and pushes her glasses up to the top of her head. She rubs her eyes. Something in Noelle snaps.

“Alright, that’s enough,” she says, slapping her palms against the table. She regrets it immediately when they begin to sting. Akarsha raises her brows, the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips. “What’s up, dude?”

“Explain.” Noelle gestures at her, all of her. Akarsha has had her stupid hairstyle since the very day they’d met. Seeing her now, with all of it hanging loose around her face, worries her. Yes, worries, because Noelle’s heart is beating too quickly, and everything about this situation feels off, like coming home only to find all the furniture moved an inch to the side. Noelle is right to be concerned. Everything about the girl in front of her is inconsistent with the Akarsha that Noelle sees every day. She wants to know why.

“It’s cosplay.” Akarsha laughs and leans out of slapping range. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“There are many unknowable things in the universe.” Akarsha strikes a thoughtful pose. Noelle sinks in her seat to kick her shin. She winces. “Look: this is fine, isn’t it? Your mom’s off your back, I get to wear a sweet jacket — everyone’s winning!”

“I do not understand how a change in attire, hairstyle, and behavior would be considered a universal victory.”

Akarsha clutches at her chest. “My kokoro is brokoro, Frenchman! I thought we were buddies, pals, homies!” She wipes her eyes. “Friendos to the endos, homodach — ”

Noelle raises a finger.

“Never,” she hisses, “say that to me again.” Noelle scowls and sips at her thermos. Akarsha’s giggles echo through the stacks, and she only falls quiet when a librarian pokes his head around a shelf and glares.

Akarsha is still smiling. Noelle shakes her head. Though her answer is still less than satisfactory, Noelle is content with her being normal again.

Akarsha pulls out a pencil bag shaped like a fish. Every scale is printed in perfect detail. It looks ready to flail its way out of her hand, and Noelle scrunches up her face, ready to scold.

Yes, normal. As much as Akarsha is ever normal, anyways.

“It’s hot. Must be my fault.”

“It is not.” Noelle ties her jacket around her waist. Typical Californian weather: chilly enough for a sweater in the morning and scorching hot in the afternoon. Oakland, however, tends to be cooler than other cities in the state. Noelle blames global warming for this atrocity.

“It’s gotta be. That’s why there’s no clouds today, y’see — ” Akarsha squints into the sun. Noelle smacks her. She’s going to ruin her eyesight! “The sun saw me and parted them to say, ‘shizz girl, you fine.’ And that’s why it’s so hot.”

“That is not why.” Noelle takes a deep breathe to explain precipitation, condensation, the movements of the planet and sun — but Akarsha pulls a rubber band off her wrist and Noelle’s explanation dries up in her throat.

Akarsha gathers her hair with both hands, pulling it up to expose the nape of her neck. Noelle stares: because she wants to strangle her, obviously. But gently. Just enough so that Akarsha would stop spouting stupidity like a fountain.

“‘Shizz girl, you fine.’”

“What?” “That’s what you’re thinkin’ right now, huh?” Akarsha puts a fist to her chin, denim creaking across her shoulders. Noelle scowls. “And so the Frenchman learned to love, the spell cast upon her castle thawed, and the faithful servants of the Eiffel Tower knew humanity once again.” “Shut up! This isn’t a Disney production.” Noelle steps on Akarsha’s foot. It feels bizarre. Shoes! She’s wearing actual shoes, like a sane person! Noelle glowers at Akarsha’s feet, cursing her flip flops as much as the lack of them. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stop saying that!? I don’t live in the Eiffel Tower. I am not French. This is misinformation.”

“How mean,” Akarsha sighs, sticking her hands in her pockets. She hops up to sit at the foot of a statue overlooking the steps and peers down at Noelle. She glares right back, defiant. “So, what are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t understand. Please rephrase the question.” “I dunno what other way I can say it, dude.” Akarsha’s fingers fan out, shoulders hunching as though to shrug. “Like, we’re done here, aren’t we?” She gestures at their book bags, the papers and textbooks and supplies neatly tucked away. “Study date’s over. What are you gonna do now?”

“… I’ll purchase something to drink, then call my mother.” Noelle traces a finger along the slit of her binder, where the money hides behind a copy of her schedule.

“You’re skippin’ lunch?” Akarsha squints at her arms. “They say you are what you eat, but you don’t gotta take being a noodle so religiously. Relax. Smell the roses. Feed the Beast. Del Taco.”

“….” Akarsha seems to be making up for her docility tenfold, every infuriating quirk magnified now that they’ve left the library. Noelle doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. She starts down the steps without Akarsha, only turning to wait once she’s reached the bottom. The tell-tale sound of feet skipping — and slipping — follow her down, until Akarsha thumps right next to her. “Woah.” Akarsha’s arms pinwheel. Noelle grabs her by the shoulder and steadies her, eyebrows raised. “Converse — minus two to acrobatics.”

“And here I thought that clowns were supposed to be good at gymnastics.” “How mean!” “I only speak the truth.” The banter and tomfoolery is comforting, in its own way. Despite the memory of the quiet, somber Akarsha that Noelle can’t burn from her mind and the new hairstyle and attire, it’s still her. Still the same idiot fool.

Noelle glances at her watch. 1:36. Her family won’t expect a call from her until at least three thirty. She looks at Akarsha: Akarsha, her hair tied in a knot at the base of her neck and glasses sitting atop her head, looking almost respectable with her mouth closed and her perpetual slouch hidden by a curtain of denim.

She can work with this. Noelle folds her arms across her chest, a smile tugging up at the corners of her lips. “Akarsha. Did you bring money with you?”

“Hi, can I get a… uhhhh…. Taro milk tea with pudding?” Akarsha glances over her shoulder. Noelle tilts her head, then winces as the weight of her ponytail pulls at her scalp. She needs a haircut — to thin it out, if nothing else.

“A milk tea with boba, please. No ice.” The cashier rings them up. Akarsha pays.

They seat themselves as far away from the incriminating table as possible, but Noelle still scowls at the leg that Min-seo had broken. It has since been repaired with liberal amounts of tape, but Noelle won’t forgive. Noelle won’t forget.

“Dude, I can’t believe that worked.”

“We were disguised, last we came.” Noelle counts change from her coin purse and hands it over to Akarsha, along with a few folded dollar bills. Akarsha takes it.

Noelle bends at the waist, tugging her hair free from its tail. It falls in a curtain around her face. Noelle grimaces as she straightens up again, sweeping it back from her eyes. She turns to see Akarsha grinning. “What.”

“For a second there, you looked like the Grudge.” A clicking groan grinds out of Akarsha’s throat. She croaks for a full ten seconds. Noelle stares, unimpressed. “You should wear your hair like that next Halloween. I bet you could make a little kid cry.” “And since when were your costume choices credible enough for me to take your advice?” Noelle crosses her arms. “All you did for Halloween this year was remove your windbreaker.”

“What are you talking about Frenchman? I should have gotten an award for my costume, it was so terrfyin’. I was…” Akarsha grins. “A heterosexual.”

Noelle almost smiles. She bares her teeth instead, but Akarsha’s eyes crinkle anyways, bright from behind the glare of her glasses. Whatever. Noelle will let it slide, just this once; she knows from experience that pressing the point will result in more terrible jokes than Noelle ever needs to hear in her lifetime. If Akarsha tells her that she’s ‘all bi herself’ one more time…

“Hey, what if we spiked up Min’s hair and like, dressed her up in orange? Do you think we could sneak her in that way?” Akarsha puts a fist to her chin. Noelle glances at the windows, where Min’s face — and Diya’s, to Noelle’s outrage — is plastered for everyone to see. NO ENTRY is scrawled under Min’s picture.

She scowls at it. She’s… well, pleased for them both, she supposes, but no one has any business looking so self-satisfied after getting banned from a restaurant on their first date.

“I doubt it. Her face is plastered all over the store. Disguise or no, any employee that failed to recognize her wouldn’t be worth the air conditioning they stand in.” “How mean! … Seriously, that’s harsh. Remind me never to work at a store you’re managin’.”

“Hm. Well, I doubt either of us will ever have to work in a restaurant. Our grades are high enough.” Noelle’s clawed and fought her way up to the top, Akarsha trailing just at her heels. What else would their hard work have been for, if not to secure themselves a privileged future? Noelle turns her nose into the air and grins. The motion feels plastic when Akarsha’s eyes flick away. “Nah, I guess you wouldn’t. Not that I wanna either — I don’t hate myself enough to work in a fast food joint if I had another choice.” Akarsha takes off her glasses and fiddles with the arms. She is strangely hesitant. “But it’s an option. Options are good.”

“I don’t understand. If you’re the best, then you are the optimal candidate.” Noelle frowns. “You can go anywhere in your field if you are the only option.” Akarsha opens her mouth, then seems to think better of it. Eventually she shakes her head. “I’m just sayin’ that you never know what might happen. Maybe kaiju will descend on the planet and we have to pilot giant robots while having identity crises to fight ‘em. Maybe someone’s gonna leak alien files, and all the stuff that we put stock into is gonna burst around us. Pop! Like a bubble. Or maybe we’re gonna wake up one day and realize that this, all of this?” Akarsha gasps, hand over her heart. “Oh no! All just a dream.”

She tries to punch Noelle’s arm. Noelle leans away.

“Come on, Noelle! If it hurts, then we’re actually here. Unless it’s an elaborate simulation and even our sensory experiences aren’t real — say, ever heard of simulacra? It’s wild stuff — ”

“Shut up!” Noelle, fed up, grabs Akarsha’s face. Akarsha’s eyes are wide as Noelle claps both hands over her mouth. Noelle shakes her head. “Someone with so much to say should put their mouth to good use. But of course you can’t even do that much!”

Akarsha’s brow furrows. Noelle shrieks when something slimy paints a wet stripe along her palm and leaps back, arms pinwheeling. She trips and folds up on herself, landing on the floor in a heap.

Every eye in the store turns to her.

“… Sorry,” she mutters, raising a hand toward the nearest employee. The waitress glares at Noelle as though her fall triggered a reflex to fight and kill.

Akarsha’s whispered ‘yikes!’ pierces the quiet. Noelle wants to wither, and smacks away every attempt Akarsha makes to help her up.

“Dude, that must have been… the Invisible Man.” Noelle wipes her hand on the arm of Akarsha’s jacket while Akarsha isn’t looking, too busy scrubbing her cheek against her shoulder to notice.

“There is no Invisible Man! Why did you lick me!?” Noelle fumbles in her bookbag for hand sanitizer. Of all the disgusting things to do! The Akarsha that Noelle knows and loathes has returned in full-force.

“Uh, ‘cuz you were grabbing my face? That’s a normal reaction to have!”

“No, it is not!” Noelle pops the cap and lets the sanitizer pool in her palm. She scrubs vigorously. “Do you know where my hands have been!?”

“… Nowhere fun, I hope.” Akarsha shoves her glasses on her face, then seems to think better of it and pushes it up above her temple. She grins, so widely that her face scrunches up with it. “That’s not how they flirt in France, right? Grab people and talk like movie villains?”

“For the final time, stop telling people I’m — ”

“Order number 16!”

“Wao! That’s us!” Akarsha whirls around her and bumps a shoulder into Noelle’s back. Her voice is strained, like she’s trying to fight back a laugh. “Come on, Frenchman, we can talk about your background later. Like your robot roots. Take me to your leader.”

“Akaaaarsha!”

“We should avoid Snowcastle from now on. At least for a few months.” Noelle pokes her straw at her drink. The pointed end bounces off the plastic top. Noelle glowers at it, then tries again. This time, she breaks through.

“Yeah. I think we left an impression on the cashier.” Akarsha’s sitting on the curb, drink balanced between her knees. She’s already drained a quarter of her taro tea and eagerly sucks up the pudding gilding the bottom. “At least we didn’t get banned in disguise!”

“Don’t say that. The bar is too low; we are not repeating the Diya and Min-seo incident.”

“Okay, but you gotta admit that was hilarious.”

“It was not! We destroyed private property, and technically we aren’t even allowed to be here!”

“But here you are. You’re doing a crime, dude. I’m proud of you!”

“I don’t want it!”

Gravel crunches as a car pulls into the lot. Her mother is behind the wheel; so soon? But she’d only called… half an hour ago. Noelle’s brow furrows. She could have sworn that only half that had passed.

Akarsha stands. Her fingers flex around her drink. The glasses are back on her face, and Noelle still isn’t accustomed to them. It’s likely because Akarsha doesn’t seem to be as well, constantly hooking them off the collar of her shirt or pushing it up onto her head.

“I’m going now,” Noelle says stiffly, then wonders why. Her mother is here; it’s time to leave. That much is evident.

“Yeah.”

And for some reason, Noelle doesn’t go. Her feet are glued to the concrete. She feels like she’s in class and someone’s just solved a problem incorrectly on the board. It’s as if Noelle has something to correct — but what? It’s not as if anything’s wrong.

“Your face.” Noelle gestures at it. Akarsha’s eyebrows raise.

“I sure do got one!” She strikes a pose, index and thumb forming an ‘L’ around her chin. “Compliment me like one of your French girls, Noelle.”

“Shut up.” Noelle snaps her fingers and wishes she could pull out her calculator. There is no uncertainty in math. Akarsha is nothing if not a wild card, and interacting with her always feels like a game of chess. Noelle has to have the right pieces in the right places — and right now, she has neither. “You still look strange.” “That’s not a compliment — ”

“But, it’s not terrible.” Akarsha’s mouth hangs open. Noelle pushes it closed. “Your face is nice without the buns.”

Akarsha doesn’t seem to be able to make noise, much less speak. Noelle counts it as a victory and hurries away without saying goodbye.

For some reason, her ears are burning.

“A drink?” Her mother eyes Noelle’s cup as she folds herself into the passenger seat. Newspapers crinkle as Noelle tucks her feet inside, then closes the door.

“It was with my own money.”

“Did your friend suggest it?”

“No. Akarsha works hard.” Noelle sips her boba. It doesn’t seem as sweet as it had just moments ago, the high of winning a victory withering to ash on her tongue.

“Hm.” Surprisingly, her mother doesn’t protest. The radio is silent, and Noelle lets herself sway with the car as they turn a corner. “Her school supplies were frivolous. Don’t let her be a bad influence on you. You cannot be distracted in your studies.”

“I know. She’s a good study partner.”

“Do not help her too much. Unless you get something back, you’re only helping the competition.”

Noelle is halfway done with her drink. Home is still fifteen minutes away. “She’s my friend,” she hisses, throat tight.

“She is the one you do projects with?” At Noelle’s nod, her mother continues: “Next time you study together, do it at her house. Driving you to the library is too far, and if you are going to get drinks, you are not working.”

“… Her house?”

“Yes. Call her tonight and ask. If you are going to study, do it in a place without distractions.” Noelle’s mother glances at her from the corner of her eye. Noelle does her best not to seem too pleased.

She tries to picture what kind of face Akarsha will make when she calls tonight. Will she be surprised? Embarrassed? That’s an expression Noelle wishes she could see. She can still remember how Akarsha’s entire face had seemed to pale when she triggered the alarm at the school library.

Noelle hides a smile in her palm. Not even an hour after leaving Akarsha speechless, and she already has another victory under her belt.

#butterfly soup #noelle (butterfly soup)#akarsha (butterfly soup)#pee pee ketchup man #cant believe im using that as a ship name instead of akano or noarsha #peents writes #anyways a lot of this fic is inspired by my experiences as a chinese american?? my mom used to say that sighing thing #to me all the time n to this day i still dont sigh or whistle at night #the radio thing too!! i dont know how it is in other parts of the country but my local asian station has a uhhh pretty interesting #definition of news. @ any rate ive talked enough!! does anyone actually read the tags #hope you enjoyed the fic!!!

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