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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 4 years ago

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The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

#my spn thoughts #spn meta #dean and john #dean and sam and john #dean and chuck #dean and god #spn 11x20 #spn 11x21 #spn 14x20 #spn 12x22 #et alii #spn #long post

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bluefirewrites · 3 years ago

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not sure if u are still taking this but, celebrity/fan au for JUKEE 🤭

Okay this one's a little involved but I got you!

Rated T for mentions of sex and maybe some language

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

******

Julie tugs against the rather short dress Flynn had squeezed her in, not caring for how much she looks like a glorified candy wrapper in the shimmering gold.

She feels like she's some Ferrer Roche, waiting to be devoured.

Which seems to be her intention for tonight because she's insane, and so is her bestie Flynn, because she's supposed to grab the attention of a certain someone in this club.

Her motives for tonight sound like they come straight out of a Wattpad story, but her boyfriend- or well maybe an ex boyfriend now'- forced her hand.

So a year ago, right around the time they started dating, they both disclosed their 'hall passes'. Just a list of celebrities they were both 'allowed' to cheat on their partners with. It was fun. Just to see who the other person would pick.

It was harmless because the whole point is that these people are so famous, so far out of reach, that the odds of hooking up with them would be essentially impossible.

Nick's was the lead singer of the world famous pop group Dirty Candi. And Julie remembers drunkenly applauding the choice ("She's pretty! Wowww you like them Bubblegum Pop girls?")

They had a laugh that night and Julie doesn't really consider that hall pass conversation all that much since then-

-Until fast forward to last week when Nick disclosed to her that he ran into Carrie Wilson at an event. And then promptly disclosed to her that he invoked his 'Hall Pass' rights.

His rights?! She had exploded at him, and he claims that its no big deal. That he thought she would understand that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, a crazy set of circumstances, and that- 'Holy shit Jules, she was actually into me. Like what?'

Understandably, Julie stormed out and has been staying with Flynn for the time being. And it must have been the haze of crying and watching a lot of true crime series to cheer herself up that she and Flynn concocted this... plan.

One fueled by spite and pettiness.

Get back at Nick, make him jealous, make him feel how she did- by invoking her own 'Hall Pass' rights-

-which so happens to be Sunset Curve frontman, Luke Patterson...

"There he is" Flynn whispers from their corner of the club and Julie gulps.

"I don't think I can do this," Julie hisses at Flynn, when they spot him at the bar, nursing a drink with his bandmates like he usually would (they did their research).

See, Julie’s been a fan of Luke’s for a long time. Ever since she heard ‘Now or Never’ in freshman year of high school, she’s been hooked onto their music- especially Luke and his voice and playing.

She had their posters on her bedroom wall and had been that girl who would (when no one’s looking) press her fingers to her lips then press them against Luke’s image before going to bed.

It was that bad.

And Julie had probably fantasized on more than one occasion of meeting him and all the other scenarios you would picture in a typical Celeb x Reader scenario.

And she’d like to think she grew out of it, now she’s in her mid-twenties and just casually listens to Sunset Curve, following up on their careers every now and then.

But you can never really shake your first major celebrity crush. Hence he had been on her so called ‘Hall Pass’ list.

(”You into rockstars, Jules?” Nick had teased her that night.)

Seeing him there, in the same place as her, is so surreal, but Flynn’s continued pinches to her arm remind her just how real this is.

“This is ridiculous,” Julie crosses her arms, ready to bow out because what is she thinking? Why would Luke Patterson pick her up, of all people, at the bar? It’s like a supermodel runway in here, filled with girls more accomplished and famous. Her confidence is shaken a bit and she rethinks everything.

"Nick didn't seem to have a problem when he did it," Flynn points out, “And girl, you look great. He would be blind to not want you.”

The mention of Nick still boils her blood, which only reaffirms her plans for revenge. She’s still nervous but they both stand up from their booth and walk over to the bar.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,”

“No. You’re musician extraordinaire, Julie Molina! The world may not have heard about you, but they will one day. I bet that’s something you can talk to him about. Music? Lyrics?”

Julie could use her songwriting credentials to her advantage, “I mean I guess-”

“Quick, he’s getting up!”

“Flynn, wait I’m not-”

With a forceful push, Flynn sends Julie into the path of Luke Patterson, colliding into him and effectively spilling his drink all over her dress.

“Oh my god,” Luke gapes at her, “I am so sorry-”

Julie fans herself, shaking slightly from the fact she’s drenched and also that her freakin’ high school celebrity crush is looking at her, actually talking to her.

But she recovers quickly, and she speaks, “It’s fine. Really. I guess I’m just... clumsy.” She shoots a glare at Flynn, who merely winks and retreats to their booth.

Luke grimaces and takes her by the hand, leading her somewhere, napkins in his other hand, “Here, let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry. Hate to ruin a pretty... dress.”

It’s the way he eyes her that catches Julie off guard. He’s... not talking about the dress, is he?

Julie reels it back in tries her hand at a joke, “I wouldn’t call this a dress. I feel like fancy leftovers in this thing.”

Luke stifles a laugh, “Okay, I mean I wasn’t gonna say anything but yeah. I guess it’s a bit tin foil-y.”

“Not your style?”

His gaze drifts over to her one last time, “Well, any way to take a meal back home is fine by me. I mean-” Luke scrunches his nose, wincing, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Shit. That was too... much. Are we-” he laughs nervously, “Are we still... talking about food?”

“Unless you just called me a meal. Then no.”

The look in his eyes say that he’s absolutely mortified, “...yeah. I think I did. I was hoping that was a nightmare.”

“Nope, it definitely happened,”

“Feel free to slap me,”

Julie giggles, somewhat delirious because she hasn’t tried to flirt with him but here Luke is, flirting with her. Or trying. And failing. Like a far cry from the suave rockstar she had pictured him to be.

“No need. Just, can you-?” she points to the napkins he’s holding hostage.

“Oh yeah. Here,” They stop in front of the coat check, and he hands her the napkins so she could try herself off with the best she can.

Suddenly, a weight falls onto her shoulders, she looks up and sees Luke draping a jacket over her- his presumably.

“You looked cold,”

Julie wraps the jacket tight against her, relishing in the warmth, “Wow, thanks.”

Luke smiled and stepped back, “Just so you know, if I made you feel weird in any way, I’d like to throw out my third ‘sorry’ of the night. Nothing has to happen though. So, just say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Whew. Um, okay. Julie stands there, faced with this decision.

The compliments aside (she will revisit those later), Luke’s giving her an out. Any reservations she has about moving forward with this plan, this is her chance to leave.

She could just treasure these amazing few minutes for the rest of her life. This could be a story to tell friends at a dinner party, about the time a rockstar lent her his jacket. Would be up there with the time Jack Black passed her on the street and said “Nice hat!”.

But-

Maybe she wants to see where this goes.

“All this talk about food is making me hungry though...” she says and Luke lights up, “I could go for a bite to eat.”

Luke snaps his fingers, “I know just the place.”

*******

Half an hour later, Julie and Flynn are in a smelly alleyway with the guys from Sunset Curve, in line for a street dog cart just a couple blocks away.

“An Oldsmobile?” Julie gawked after hearing Luke and the guys describe the delicacy, “Are you trying to poison me?”

“I swear by it,” Luke insists, taking her hand and moving them up in the line. Flynn sees this and doesn’t comment, but Julie’s starting to get used to Luke doing that, “You have to try!”��

Julie doesn't know when she got over her initial starstruck, but by now its so easy to treat Luke like a regular person.

Well, celebrities are all regular people in the end, but more so now that he and his friends, have their sleeves rolled up, smiles wide, ready to dig into what may be the most disgusting hot dog she has ever seen.

Julie takes a bite out of hers and her eyes widen. Wow. It's not terrible.

"Ayy! We got another one, boys" Reggie laughs, noting her reaction.

"Told ya" Luke needles her sides and she giggles, ticklish. Her knee jerk reaction is to playfully shove him, but in the process accidentally smeared some mustard onto his face.

Luke goes to lick it off with his tongue, making funny faces as he did which amused Julie even more.

"Here," she takes a napkin and wipes at his cheek, "Now we're even."

The whole group gets to talking over by the couches, while Flynn chats up the other boys, Julie and Luke are sequestered in their own corner, and yes, eventually the topic switches to music.

"Wait, so you know Rose and the Petal Pushers?" Luke chokes out, "Like everyone I talk to hasn't heard of them!"

"Yup. Have their record actually" Julie beams proudly, censoring out the part that its her mom's band and hence she has one of the few records ever released.

Luke is floored by that and continues to poke her brain for music and Julie finds that their spiels go on naturally, that she could probably talk with Luke for hours and hours.

Which ends up happening. Flynn had already made her escape, having texted her to come home safely, the boys had gone too, leaving them in the nearly empty lot.

When the food truck closes down for the night, they end up taking a stroll down the streets of L.A, talking and getting to know each other.

Julie learns so much about Luke, things she's never heard about from the press- like his songwriting practice, that he cries at Finding Nemo, and that he can do a cartwheel only when drunk.

And in return Julie shares with him her crazy college stories, how she misses her mom sometimes, and that she is encyclopedia of commercial jingles (a fact Luke exploits by rapidly quizzing her at random moments)

Somehow they end up near the beach, with Julie pointing out the different stars she could see, but finds that Luke isn't looking at the sky.

"Hey, Julie..." He gets her attention, "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too"

"So... would it be alright, if I kiss you?"

Julie's mouth parts, speechless. It happened. Holy shit it happened or... is happening. She has Luke exactly where she wants him.

She could only nod and Luke takes it as the sign to lean in, but just as his lips is about to brush against hers, she freaks-

"Wait" she steps back. Luke opens his mouth, "No. No more 'sorry's from you. This one's one me. I'm sorry but... this- this" She sighs, "I have to be honest with you."

Then she tells Luke everything- Nick, The Hall Pass, her plans for tonight- basically admitting to using him.

When she's done, she expects for Luke to get angry, to leave in a huff and never want to see her again.

That's not what happens.

"This Nick guy sounds like a piece of work" he says.

Julie nods slowly, "Yeah... I guess he was. So maybe that's why I did it. But I don't think I could have gone through with it. Like I don't think we're together, me and Nick but-"

"You wouldn't want to do what he did. Because you don't want to hurt people," Luke surmises, understanding, "And by doing that, that means you're a better person than he is."

"I guess"

"No Julie, you're a good person" Luke insists, "Man, I think that makes me like you even more."

Julie laughs, "God, if my high school self could see me now..."

"You were a big fan?"

"I'm not having this conversation right now with you,"

"Okay cuz now you got me curious-"

Julie swats his shoulder but it doesn't deter the guy from snickering.

On a more serious note though-

"I think..." Julie hums, "I think this means that I got some stuff to work through. Before I could start considering... this."

"I understand"

"But thank you... Luke. For tonight"

"It's been real, Julie,"Luke smiles and pulls her in for a half hug, "And you should keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

****

Julie goes back to Flynn's that night and her bestie's still awake, wanting all the deets. But there's not much to tell. Nothing happened.

She shrugs off the jacket and resigns to the couch, not caring that her makeup is still on. She's about ready to pass out.

Her phone dings.

She pulls it out and sees two notifications.

luke_patterson is now following you

luke_patterson is requesting to message you.

Curious, she accepts the request.

'here if you want to talk, Tin Foil :P'

Julie rolls her eyes and collapses onto the couch, sleeping with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know it now, but the oncoming years would be filled with more messages back and forth, meetups with their friends for more shady street food, building a solid foundation of friendship and eventually, when Luke asks again if he could kiss her, Julie would eagerly prop herself on her toes to close the gap.

Yeah, Julie's high school self would definitely be screaming...

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #luke x julie #julie x luke #this one turned into an actual fic wtf #lol #i got carried away #long post #blue answers asks #celebrity/fan au

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lucky-catttt · 3 years ago

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Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 2

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED TO READ.

Word Count: 3,885

Warnings: Prepare to put a towel down or go touch some grass after, either or LOL Mention of genitals, oral sex, squirting, face fucking, choking, names, foreplay, degradation, aftercare, BDSM, sexism/sexual harrassment.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I’ve also added images and gifs to help readers imagine the scenarios and reactions!

“So what kind of proposal were we thinking of that would save Black Gold corporation?” Max quizzes, leaning back against his chair. You pause to think while finishing your pastry. “Well” you begin “This space is huge, around 4,300 square feet. The lease Black Gold is renting this office floor has no major restrictions on it, so you could potentially sub-let the space on the floor for a monthly or fixed term lease to people who work remotely or teams that don’t want to commit to a larger office space. It's becoming more common because of the GFC, people can't commit to large long term leases for whole office floors anymore. You could also rent out the boardroom by the hour & also lease the private manager offices to businesses that want their own private room. And we already have a reception near the lifts, just re-hire them and make them pretend they work for all the businesses on the floor, answering their calls, doing admin work like scanning and faxing etc. As far as the business’s clients that show up are concerned, each business looks like they own the whole floor.

If we do a cost analysis and then get a small investor to cover the startup costs, we could guarantee them a return if businesses pay contract deposits or pay their lease in advance up front. Plus the landlord we owe money to. And with the top floor with amazing views and location, we can charge top dollar” Max stares at you in disbelief. “Wow, are you sure you don’t wanna be CEO?” He laughs, still in shock. You laugh, blushing. “I started working on a business proposal for one of my university assessments, if we customise it for this project we could pitch it to some investors and banks and speak to the landlord about it as well” You reply. “I could kiss you right now.” Maxwell sighs, gripping his fist. “Please do” you giggle, leaning towards him. Max reaches out both hands to cup your face, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do!” Max yells, before striding towards the bathroom to take a shower. Two weeks go by and the proposal is ready. Max calls you from the company car, on the way to your house to pick you up before the big investors meeting. “I’ll be right outside your place in a few minutes my sweet” He coos, beaming with excitement to see you. As his car pulls up, you collect your compendium, presentation cards and your pointer rod. Struggling with all you have to carry, Alfred rushes out of the car and up the steps to the front door, collecting all of your belongings.

Maxwell peers over the top of his shades but the sun from behind your house blinds him. He shuffles across the seat and opens the car door, the sun now hiding from his view. As he removes his shades and looks up the stairs towards your front door, he sees you standing there, fixing your outfit. He’s stunned.

It might be 1984, but you’re wearing a stunning outfit pulled straight from the 50s. A black suit dress with a pleat in the front with a thin gold belt around your waist. You accented the look with strap Mary jane heels, a black and gold handbag and a neat beret fascinator. Your hair was curled, accentuated with bright red lipstick and a single set of pearl earrings.

Max looks like he’s about to drop to his knees in awe, but his knees bend into a lengthy stride up the stairs, rushing to your side. “A heavenly vision of beauty'' Max gasps, giving you a kiss on the cheek in an attempt to preserve your makeup. He puts out his arm and you wrap your hands around it, as he leads you down your stairs to the car, staring at you the whole time, letting the universe guide his steps as this absolute goddess graces his presence. You both slide into the back seat of Max’s company car, his large hand immediately passing along your back and resting on your hip and ass, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I dont know how this presentation is going to go, but I can be absolutely certain that myself and every other person in that room will be enraptured by your presence”. he murmurs into your neck, squeezing your ass.

Max was wearing a pinstripe royal blue suit with black laced oxfords. His matching tie and pocket square peeking out. “I would kiss you right now but i don't want to get lipstick on your face just before our meeting” you blush, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. We have all the time in the world after” Max replies, running his nose down your neck, breathing gently against your skin.

“We should probably prepare for the meeting, Max” you chuckle, seeing the office building not far up the road. You pull out your compendium and flip to an architectural blueprint of the office floor.

“I had this drawn up by an architectural drafter last week. As you can see the large blank space is your office and private room, you already have the glass frosted for privacy. All the other office cubicles will be converted to private offices, as well as boardrooms, co-working areas and remote working hot spots.” Max’s eyes widen with surprise at the level of detail. “How did you get this done? I certainly don't remember commissioning this'' rubbing his chin. “I paid for it” you respond, nonchalantly. “You spent your money, for me?” Max inquires, now in disbelief. “Of course. I told you I would help you, Max. Consider it an investment”. You wink, flipping through more pages of the presentation. Just when Max thought he couldn't fall more in love with you than he already has, your hard work and giving nature makes his heart swell even larger to make room. After a few minutes the car pulls up to the investor’s office building. “Before we go in there, I want to ask you something.” Your eyes widen with intrigue. “While we're there, I’m not sure how these businessmen will react to a woman being anything more than my personal assistant. I’m not intimidated by you at all, but I suspect some of them might be” He continues, his eyes falling to your lap as he holds your hands. “Max, this project is my dream, but it’s your company, so i’m giving it to you to present. You’re the only person I trust with this”.

As Maxwell begins to get himself together, you take a seat adjacent to where Max is standing. Although your knees are together with one ankle behind the other, you can feel some of the businessmen closest to you looking you up and down like a piece of meat. You quickly turn to face Max, giving him your undivided attention. “Well, I know you’re all very busy, so lets get started” Max smiles, wringing his palms together. The businessmen listen intently to Max’s pitch for the restructure of Black Gold corporation, before they begin to ask questions on financials. You begin to notice the men losing interest and Max starting to lose his confidence. He looks at you, his expression half pleading and half embarrassed. Without any hesitation, you stand up from your chair, striding over to Max’s side, picking up the pointing rod from the easel and pulling it to full length with one swift pull.

The men all sit upright at attention from the sound of the rod. “If I may, Maxwell” you butt in, politely. “Gentleman” You steady the pointer rod against the chart on the easel “the profit figures on the project are as follows; 36 external view offices, charged at $3,000 per month each, generating $108,000 gross profit. The 25 internal offices with no view will be $500 per month, generating $12,500. We also have hot-desks with memberships starting at $20 per month. If companies want us to answer their phones, do their mail, bring them coffee, do their shopping, take their dry-cleaning, walk their dogs or bring them lunch, that's an additional fee. Essentially, we are looking at a monthly profit turnover of $150,000+. Our current lease fee is $50,000 a month with about $15,000 in body corporate and utilities, leaving $85,000 per month net profit, $225 thousand per quarter and over a million annually. We currently are looking for a combined setup cost of around $500,000. The more you invest, the bigger your return.” You swing the pointer road and rest it on your shoulder.

Silence fills the room and you panic. Your assertiveness may have turned them off, so you pretend to be ditzy and dip one of your feet inwards. The men who are all sitting up at attention, look between each other and nod. Your charm and business acumen seemed to have put them under some kind of spell. “Thanks for your time gentleman. If you have any questions please feel free to call” you finish, walking around to hand each of them Max’s business card. The men begin to chat amongst themselves, before one of them approaches Maxwell. They introduce themselves and begin chatting about the pitch “You should be very proud of your assistant Maxwell” they chuckle “she seems very switched on and driven”. Max shoots you a smiling glance, before turning back “Yeah, I’m actually going to make her the CFO” he responds. “Well, we’ll deliberate here and be back in touch with our offer”. The meeting finally wraps up and you both head back downstairs where Alfred is waiting with the car door already open. You both slide inside and Max wraps his arms around you before passionately kissing your lips as the car drives back to his office.

“You want to make me the.. CFO?” you pant, breaking from the kiss. “Yes” Max smiles, staring into your eyes. “You have worked so hard and today at the presentation..I know you’re the woman for the job. Do you want it?” You blush, holding his face “Well how can I say no?”. The company car finally pulls up back at the office and you both head through the lobby and into the lift. Max stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, talking about the enormous amount of work that will potentially need to be done if this deal goes through. As the lift doors open into the reception area, you both step out and Max hears the phone in his office start to ring. You give him an excited smile, encouraging him to go take the call in private. He begins striding through the empty office before making it to his office, pushing the doors open and heading over to his desk.

You take your time walking back to his office, giving Max time to finish his phone call. As you approach his office doors, you hear the click of the receiver as he hangs up. You watch Max’s shadow behind the frosted glass walk up to the doors and swing them open, a neutral look on his face. You look puzzled, thinking it was bad news before he burst out laughing with a smile, swinging you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. “You did it baby!” He yells, slapping your backside before throwing you both down onto the bed. “We did!?” you scream, a wave of relief and excitement washing over you. “Yes! I’m so proud of you. You saved Black Gold corporation. You saved me.” Max smiles, brushing a lock of curls away from your face before cupping your cheek and passionately kissing you.

You kick off your shoes, belt and take off your beret fascinator as Max removes his suit jacket, suspenders and belt, before kissing each other again. “I was so turned on by you today” Max moans, writhing his hands all over your body, before ripping the bust of your dress open, the two buttons pinging off onto the carpet. “Watching your voluptuous ass in that dress walking into that boardroom and how you commanded the room’s attention, took control and sealed the deal. I wanted to put you over that boardroom table and worship you like the goddess you are. But I guess I can do that now”. Something about wearing your favourite suit of his, the unwavering progressive support of women and eagerness to pleasure you unlocks your most ravenous sexual desires. You stop Max, sitting up at the foot of the bed. He gets up from laying down and looks at you, worried he said or did something wrong. “Whats wrong my love?” he asks, looking concerned. ****MAJOR SMUT WARNING AHEAD**** “Max… you’ve shown me the romantic love making version which was so beautiful, but I want to make you feel worshipped” Max gives you an interesting glance. “You’re such a giving person but I want to give back. You’ve suffered neglect and mistreatment most of your life. I want to give you a different kind of passionate sex. I have fantasies and wild ideas that I think will give you immense pleasure. I want you to….” You stop yourself, not sure how he will react. Max's eyes widened with intrigue. “Go on?” Max squeezes your hand. “Well” you begin. The passionate fire is burning hotter and hotter within you. “I want you…” you hitch up your skirt and sit across Max’s lap, with one leg over each side “to straddle my chest and fuck my throat while I rub my clit” you get closer to Max’s face, pulling on his tie “And I want to cum while you’re throat fucking and choking me with your cock” you begin to undo his tie “And then I want you to cum in the back of my throat and make me swallow it”. There’s dead silence, so you bat your eyelash extensions, throwing a sexy yet innocent gaze followed by “hmmm?”. Max’s mind goes completely blank, the blood rushing from every inch of his body straight to his cock, which you feel hardened against your crotch as you straddle him. “Uhh wow honey that sounds very dangerous.” Max chokes, embarrassed he's getting turned on at the idea of hurting you.

“For you or me?” You giggle, biting your lip. “For you” Max says, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do to you Hermosa?”. “Yes Maxwell. I love the way you worship and pleasure me, but I want you to feel the same way. I have a kink when it comes to being dominated. Seeing my man so turned on and using his strength and body to please himself using me, makes me feel incredible. I know you would never hurt me, it’s something I would love for you to experience” You answer before kissing his neck. “You really are too good to me, princessa” Max sighs, running his hands down your back to your ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Max” you give him a reassuring look, worried you might have overstepped. “No baby, I’d love to, if that’s what will bring you the most pleasure” He coos, kissing your neck.

You begin to take off your dress, revealing under a black and gold laced lingerie set. “Black and Gold” you chuckle, watching Max’s eyes widen at the level of detail. “How did I get so lucky?” Max pants, pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers to contain his rock hard cock. You go to reach for Max’s crotch when his hand stops you. “Before we do this” Max begins “I want you to stop me at any time if it hurts or you can’t breathe or you just don’t want to do it anymore. That is the most important thing to me”. You nod and smile at Max, leaning in to kiss him, before your hands start to remove his boxers.

You reach down and begin to tease his cock, tracing your fingers tips against the tip. With your other hand you guide Max’s hand down, placing it at the top of your panties. As he starts to put his hands under your panties, he notices there’s a hole in them. Max stops to inspect. “Crotchless panties? Me vuelves loco” Max pants before he begin kissing and biting all over your body.

You’re in for it now. Like a virus, you’ve taken over Max’s brain, flooding it with animalistic desire and passion. A switch has been flipped and hell bent on blowing your mind, leaving all of his inhibitions and reservations about what he’s about to do to you at the door. Max climbs on top of you, wrapping his large hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you gasp for air. “Is this what you want?” He growls into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You manage to nod before moaning, indicating that you’re enjoying it. He’s never treated a woman like this before, but he manages to find the personality and words seemingly from thin air, like it was repressed all this time. “Start touching yourself for me now” Max commands. You slide your hand down into your panties and start rubbing your clit, sparks flying through your body and the slick now leaking out of your pussy. He groans at the sight of you touching yourself. Max moves up the bed before straddling over your chest. With your head propped up on some pillows, you look in Max’s eyes and ready your mouth and jaw for his throbbing cock. Max thumbs your bottom lip before grabbing just under your jaw to keep your face steady. “Open wide like the good little whore that you are” he hisses, smacking the tip of his precum soaked cock on your face.

The degrading name only makes you wetter, as you furiously rub your clitoris whilst pinned under Max’s legs. You moan as Max pushes his cock into your mouth and down your throat. “Oh my god my love your mouth feels incredible” Max moans, his character from before severely altered by the pleasurable sensation. He realises his mistake and compensates by pushing his cock as far as it will fit into your mouth and throat. “That’s it, take it all” he smirks, exhaling with a moan. You use two fingers to scoop up some of your slick and rub it into your clitoris, which is now super sensitive. Your stifled moans humming against Max’s veiny cock cause it to twitch. With your hips bucking from pleasuring yourself, Max takes both of his hands and puts them on your cheeks. “Fuck your mouth feels so good” Max moans, slowly thrusting back and forth out of your mouth, his cock touching your uvula and causing you to gag with each stroke. Your eyes begin to roll back in your skull as you continue to moan & choke, your swollen clitoris edging closer and closer to orgasm. “You like this huh? You like it when Daddy fills your throat up and fucks it?” Max hisses, wrapping your hair in between his fingers, gripping hard as his thrusts gain more momentum. Thick strings of spit is now spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and onto your breasts. “You look

The taste of Max’s precum coating the back of your tongue. You’re fighting to contain your orgasm but Max’s cock and brutal punishing words are sending you dangerously close to the edge. “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” You choke, tears welling in your eyes as you’re trying to nod and send Max a pleasured innocent gaze, driving him wild. You concentrate on breathing through your nose, each time Max’s cock leaves the back of your throat for a split second, giving you enough time to take in air. You decide to start moving your flattened tongue against the shaft, rubbing against the tip as it passes back and forth. Max let’s out a groan “You’re such a good little putá for papá”. There’s no holding back now, you increase your moans to signal that you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. “Cum for me” Max hisses, continuing the ecstasy inducing tempo of thrusts into your mouth and throat. You continue to rub your clit and gesture for Max to keep his cock still inside your mouth and throat for this moment, riding the crashing wave of your orgasm, squirting furiously onto your legs and sheets below. The writhing and shaking of your body underneath him, the sound of your squirting and muffled cries and moans from behind his cock is too much and brings him closer much faster than he ever anticipated. The eye-watering sensation causes the tears to flow down your cheeks, causing your mascara to run.

As your orgasm begins to subside you gesture for Max to continue thrusting, which he does as he moves his large hands to cup your face. “That felt fucking amazing” Max moans, continuing his fast and hard strokes. Your gaze, burning with passion and framed within smudged running eyeliner locks with Max’s, his domineering yet still showing affection. “I’m gonna cum” Max pants, keeping the pace as his grip on your face grows tighter. “Fuckkkk!!!” He shouts, holding your head still as he holds one final thrust as far in as it will go. Your eyes roll back into your head again as you feel the warm thick ropes of cum spurt onto the back of your throat. It was lucky you had taken a large enough breath before that moment, enough to sustain you for the few seconds Max held his cock still inside your mouth, throbbing and pulsing as he moans and shudders, cursing in Spanish. Coming back to reality, Max immediately pulls his softening cock from your mouth and wraps his large hands on the top and bottom of your face, closing your jaw shut. “Now Swallow” he commands, bending down so that his face inches from yours. With a cheeky gaze you oblige and swallow the remains of his cum tangled in your throat, before opening your jaw to allow him to inspect if there was any left. “My good little leche putá” he whispers, before spitting in your wide open mouth.

As if like breaking character on a movie set, Max immediately reverts back to his original self, climbing off to the side to lay next to you. “Was that good for you my love? How do you feel?” Max asks, worried he’s harmed your physical and mental state. “Incredible” you pant, smiling, lying in a pool of your own squirt. Breathing a sigh of relief, Max quickly brings up the blankets to cover you both, embracing you and peppering your spit, mascara and tear soaked face with kisses. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Max quizzes, checking your chest and throat over. “No” you reply, your throat somewhat hoarse. “Okay good. I love you so much” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. “I love you too, Max”.

————————

I got impatient and wanted to post it now so I guess this chapter is finished 💀

@anaaaispunk @mandoalorian @pintsizemama

#maxwell lord #max lord #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord smut #maxwell lord smut #max lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x f!reader #javier pena #pedro pascal

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tenacityreturns · 3 years ago

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aokaga drabble: post-nba

plot: kagami cuts off all his friends after forced retirement from the nba, and goes to live in japan again so that he can rebuild himself from the ground up. aomine’s girlfriend, sabs (whom we love), breaks up with him and aomine follows kagami to try and reconnect after a quiet few months. he’s worried as hell, he loves kagami, who he knows without hearing from him that he is miserable. it’s angst. word count: 5860 notes: sfw, future verse, aomine’s pov. it’s specific to my future verse hcs but hopefully it makes sense even if u dont know them lol. nijimura and kagami are ( thank you so much for reminding me about this. present tense. they ARE ) besties, i think that comes up.

god, it's just too weird coming back here. everything is the same. same cream wallpaper, same dirty mirror in the lift. same buttons, circled with red once pressed. same shitty elevator music. it hums melodically, creating the pretence of relaxation, but daiki is anything but. he stares at himself in the mirror. not much taller than the last time he'd been inside, on his way to see an exuberant redhead in that same, ridiculous penthouse apartment he'd had by himself. would it seem small now that he'd seen the world? now that he had money of his own, lived in a big apartment himself? there are lines in his brow as he inspects it. he doesn't try to fix it. allows himself these nerves because they remind him that he cares. if he didn't, he wouldn't have come back to stay with his parents. wouldn't have followed taiga across the world despite the months of radio silence. missed calls ( ignored calls ). unanswered texts. daiki had tried everything. called taiga’s dad, asked if he'd heard anything recently from him. he never had. never gave daiki anything, anyway. all 'oh, I'm sure he's fine, he's probably just sulking about his injuries.' yeah, that's what daiki is worried about. asao had always got on his nerves. how is he so blind? why can't he see that taiga's devastated to be retiring? he still had as much fight in him as he'd had when they were teenagers. so much fight, and grit, and impossible potential.

the elevator dings. he doesn't move for a moment. ghosts surround him. that time taiga dragged him way too roughly into his apartment, only to kiss him like he's made of glass. the times they'd held hands in the full elevator and no one had minded. the time someone had, and taiga nearly beat him up for it. like, really nearly. all the occasions taiga found to cook meals for him. all the excuses. how the hell could taiga stand to come back here and relive all those memories?

the doors shut. daiki grunts and pushes the button to open them again. he has to buck up. he has to gather himself, all the courage in the world, and tell taiga everything. he was waiting inside, anyway. he'd buzzed him up. yeah, alright. he'd said at the door. yeah, alright. he sounds different now. colder. the knot in his stomach is eating him alive. tearing organs apart. his knees are weak, barely carrying him into the hallway.

how will he phrase it? Daiki makes his way to taiga's door. it's the same colour. same paint, it's peeling a little. he feels sick. so sick. it's fight or flight, isn't it? the nerves. well, he'd already flown away. already allowed taiga to think he didn't care. maybe he hadn't. maybe love had drifted between them, fluttering around like a butterfly in spring. sabina had been a flower daiki visited, she was everything he thought he'd wanted in a partner. funny, clever, interested in him. not like in love him, which she had been, but she'd asked how his day was. sabs was great, but she wasn't taiga. they fought a lot, but not in the same way he'd fought with taiga. and taiga had dated people too, like that hot business guy. older, smart, in love. daiki recognised the way he'd looked at taiga during that terrible doubt date they'd gone on. softly, in awe, like there had been no one else in the room. and taiga had been looking at daiki. saying something with a smirk, trying to get a rise out of him. daiki could have kissed him then.

but he's broken up with sabs when taiga retired. all daiki had done was call him, text him, trying to find out if he was okay. of course he wasn't, but daiki wanted to be there for him. sabs grew tired of it. he doesn't blame her for it. he doesn't blame himself for being in love with taiga, either. it's the natural way of things. and it has been the natural way of things to go back to Japan as soon as he could get a break away from work. he stayed with his parents, kept his head down. reconnected with other old friends from high school, tried to pretend it was just a social call. Tried to pretend he hadn't come all the over here on the off chance taiga might be around to see him, wherever he'd been. what a bittersweet moment when taiga first texted back a few months ago. all casualness, he’d said don’t worry about me, i’m fine. talk soon x and that had been it. he’d replied in english, daiki had texted in english. daiki called him about a week ago and taiga had answered. hearing his voice had been jarring. he’d been waiting so long, so patiently. always hoping taiga would call him for a change.

“i’m in tokyo visiting family,” daiki had said hastily, shocked that he’d actually get a reply this time. he waited. nothing. fine. he kept talking. “i get it if you don’t wanna talk to me, or whatever, but---

“no, i wanna see you. come over. i’m back in my old apartment, you remember where that is? come by next saturday.” and they agreed on a time like it was the most normal thing in the world.

daiki sees his hand raise to knock on the door, and he wonders how many times in his life he’d done this. his knuckles had met the door hundreds of times before, when they’d been younger. less experienced. happier. god, daiki’s scared. it’s too weird coming back here.

the door opens. it’s taiga. he looks tired. he’s put on weight, his bare arms are still tree trunks but they’re not showing muscle definition anymore. he makes grey sweats and a black t-shirt look classic for a reason. daiki stares at him, taking it all in, suddenly tongue-tied. he doesn’t have the right words, they don’t exist. there’s nothing to say. he shouldn’t have come.

“makes you feel old, don’t it?” taiga says, rubbing his neck.

"what?”

“being back here. i feel like i should ask you if you wanna play one-on-one then go to maji’s.” the joke hurts. red eyes hold such sadness in them. it looks like it hurts to look at daiki, too. he shouldn’t have come.

“taiga---”

“i can’t, i dunno if you heard. i can’t play again. i’m still recovering. i had to choose between being able to walk when i’m sixty, or playing basketball another year. i was so close to picking basketball.”

daiki trudges inside. he fights the instinct to sweep taiga into an all-encompassing hug. it’s awful being in this room again. the furniture is different, thank god, but the essentials are in the same place. the kitchen is the same. there’s the spot daiki would always perch when taiga was cooking something for him. the sofa is in a different position. how clearly he can see the old layout now that he stands amongst its replacements. daiki doesn’t know what to say to taiga’s crushing statement. could he speak if he wanted to? there’s a lump in his throat. he takes his shoes off. those are taiga’s jordans. it’s good he still wears basketball shoes. it’s wrong when he doesn’t. they’re like an extension of him, like the colour of his hair. scarlet in the sunlight.

“isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” taiga’s voice is so dark, he hasn’t shut the door yet. when daiki looks over, the hand on the door is tense, as if trying to make a fist through the wood. it takes daiki by surprise to see this rage. “isn’t that what anyone wants to know, whether i care if i played again?”

“i---” he blinks. “i don’t care about basketball.”

wrong answer. the door slams. daiki flinches. taiga stalks into the kitchen.

“i mean, of course i care, it’s just-- you scared the shit outta me. i figured you didn’t wanna see me of all people, then i heard you cut everyone off, all your old teammates. gave everyone the cold shoulder. we just wanna help you, man, you’re not alone in this.”

“i’m over it.”

“i wouldn’t be, if i was you.”

“you have no idea how i feel, daiki,” taiga pulls two beers from the fridge. daiki had half expected banana milk. the thought makes him feel worse.

“nobody does, you won’t talk to anyone.” it’s a leap, maybe he had been, but had avoided daiki’s questions when he’d asked them. did nijimura know how he felt? did satsuki, and they just hadn’t told him?

“i don’t want to,” he takes the drinks to the couch, and daiki follows. daiki sits in a chair where his beanbag had once been. taiga continues, “i don’t wanna even think about basketball. that’s why i never messaged you back. i knew it would all come out once i saw you.”

daiki doesn’t open his beer. he stares at it guiltily, but he can’t bear opening it. can’t bear disturbing the quiet falling between them.

“i would’ve left you alone if you hurt yourself,” taiga goes on, in too smooth of a tone to have been anything but the truth. “i would’ve known you wouldn’t want to see me because it’d remind you of the old times.”

silence. he really shouldn’t have come.

“i’ve always had basketball,” taiga says quietly, sipping on his beer. “all my friends were into it too. back when i had this place first, i figured everyone was only interested because i was good. especially you guys.” he clicks his tongue. “you, generation of miracles. i didn’t blame you, either. i got it. tetsu, ryouta, tatsuya. i’d think about whether you’d lose interest if i got hurt and couldn’t play anymore. i didn’t wanna face it.”

“is that--- is that what you think about me now?”

no reply. he drinks more beer. daiki shifts to the edge of his seat.

“taiga. answer me.”

“i considered it. at first, definitely. then you kept calling, i guessed it was your conscience or something. don’t feel bad about it, or whatever--”

“don’t feel bad? why would you think that? i--” he has to take a breath. it’s taiga’s mistake. it’s something in his past that caused him to think that the limits of his worth are tied with his ability to play ball. that’s awful. but it’s not something to argue over. it won’t help. “look, you’re wrong. alright? don’t ever think that about me again.”

taiga shrugs. “you wanted to know how i felt.”

it’s a blow. it hurts. no doubt about it. when daiki had said i love you, had taiga always heard i love your basketball? that’s ridiculous. daiki had loved taiga’s way of playing, but that wasn’t just it?! there are corners of taiga’s mind that daiki doesn’t like, doesn’t get along with. but despite that, he loves that, too. loves taiga. loves, loves, loves him. he always has, he always will.

“you once said there’s nothing a winner can say to a loser. ain’t that how it is here? what could you say to me i haven’t heard from everyone else who can still play basketball?”

“if you couldn’t walk now, do you really think i wouldn’t wanna be there to help you with your wheelchair?” it slipped out, almost venomously. defensively. taiga blinks, quiet as the dead. daiki sighs, setting the drink down unopened. “you’re one of my best friends, taiga. you’re more than that. i think i made myself pretty clear when i called you and texted you. sorry if that was the wrong thing to do... but... if you stopped playing basketball after high school, i’d still have wanted you around, you know. even if you were some boring ass banker in another country, i still would’ve kept in touch.”

daiki doesn’t look at taiga now. he can’t. it’s too much honesty. there’s too much weight to his words. ( if he had looked over, he’d see the shaking hand raising beer to lips, hiding that they too quiver under the threat of tears. )

“sorry if i’m just saying stuff you’ve heard before. i’ll leave if i’m making it worse. i didn’t mean to.”

continued silence. what does he say next? what can he say? he doesn't want to leave. he should have come. daiki sighs, sinking back into his seat with his eyes anywhere but on taiga. this chair is hard. it's a sand-coloured linen armchair with deep mahogany accents. the kind of chair that really isn't meant to be sat in. sabs had one like this. it was a glorified bowl. totally uncomfortable, and even he was never able to sleep in it. this chair is similar. its voice is loud and harsh: i am an adult purchase. daiki misses the beanbag. the most comfortable thing he'd ever slept on. second most. he finally looks at taiga. the couch is different. it's also sand in colour, and cuboid, but the arm-rests are low and with the right cushion, their rounded corners would make for a good napping area.

the old sofa hadn't been comfortable. he'd convinced himself that it was, until taiga became the perfect cushion between sofa and daiki. it's a stupid thought, but is a toned body really that comfortable of a cushion? the soft lines of taiga's broad shoulders look just as enticing. but... the beanbag... daiki's bought beanbags for himself since then but they've never been the same. even the same brand (model discontinued) hadn't been the same. it wasn't just that it was oblong and firm enough that he doesn't touch the floor, while still retaining body-moulding softness. it was partly that. daiki had realised it the first time he settled into his new and immediately rejected beanbag years ago, when he and taiga had broken up for the second major time. it was that he'd been on taiga's floor, exhausted after an almost challenging one-on-one, waiting for his rival to make him his dinner. even before they'd started dating, daiki had felt a special sort of peace here. there's comfort in finding someone who you can be your authentic self with. daiki's basketball ability didn't scare taiga off.

"daiki?"

daiki had been staring at the window when taiga spoke. he immediately looked over, momentarily forgetting everything that was said minutes before. forgetting why he's here, what brought him, what chair he's sitting in. he's in the beanbag again. taiga's about to ask him to solve a history question, and daiki's half a second away from making up a completely fictitious answer so he doesn't have to bashfully admit that he doesn't know.

“can i ask you something?”

“shoot,”

“were you just thinking about your old beanbag?”

ah. busted. he blinks, dazed. taiga’s expression starts to change. his eyes search daiki’s from across the room and gradually, a smile forms. the sun comes out. literally. the shadow-stealing grey sky gave the city a brief interlude of hope in a few, impossibly long seconds of proper sunlight. the weather, daiki noticed, linked inextricably with a personal epiphany. it doesn’t matter whether he’s an easy read. at any given moment, daiki is thinking about his next meal or his next sleep. but that, in the depths of their conversation, taiga had pulled himself out of it enough to come to the correct conclusion on what daiki was thinking about. it wasn’t basketball, it wasn’t their history ( not entirely, at least ), and it wasn’t taiga’s injuries ( though maybe it should have been? ). it was his old beanbag. not taiga’s. not nijimura’s. his. and he’s smiling again, for the first time today. a wall has come down.

the future starts to fit into place. is that dramatic? it’s fate. it’s fate. does taiga see it too? does he knows that daiki could walk to the ends of the earth for him? daiki smiles too, now. he sinks deeper into his awful seat, shoulders almost meeting his ears.

“i hate this chair, taiga.”

“me too, but i hated the beanbag more.”

“you didn’t,” a critical insult! “why’d you keep it if you hated it so much?”

taiga sighs now, shifting in his seat so that his arm rested on the back of the couch, head against his hand. he stares with an unimpressed downwards turn to his mouth, and a double chin beneath his jaw. because you loved it, his eyes replied in words his mouth couldn’t betray, and i loved you. past tense, daiki can’t flatter himself into thinking that taiga is in any kind of place to be thinking about relationships. but they’d been in love before. daiki had been taiga’s first ( almost ) everything. it’s over in a split second, but he remembers thinking they’d be together forever.

“do you really think i could’ve been a banker?”

the question, offered casually under the guise of an innocent topic change, has weight to it. daiki knows this, but it doesn’t matter. his answer comes from the heart. their eyes meet.

“y’know,” daiki straightens up a little, “yeah, i do. i still think you could be a banker, dude. you’re one of the few people i’ve met who can really do anything you set your mind to.”

“i’m too stupid to be a banker.”

insecure words don’t suit taiga’s voice. they sound wrong. daiki doesn’t look away. “your tenacity outweighs your stupidity any day.”

taiga rolls his eyes and sips his beer. his smile fades. what’s he thinking about? daiki feels guilty realising he can’t read taiga as well as the other way around, but the last time they’d been in this room, it would have been a fair guess to suggest basketball was on his mind. it had almost always been on his mind. and now that his eyes no longer sparkle, basketball or lack thereof would also be a decent guess, but daiki didn’t think it was just that. does taiga think of the past? does he regret not paying attention in school and not giving himself any kind of backup career? daiki does. their parents do.

god, why can’t he think of anything to say? why is he so fucking silent all of a sudden? daiki’s usually quick as a whip, can spark a laugh or a fight at his whim. he usually knows just what to say when taiga’s not feeling great. or knows just what to do. all he can think of is a hug and what good has a hug ever done, really? he wants to wrap his arms around his old friend’s shoulders and tell him it’s all going to be alright. would taiga push him away? would he get mad?

“so,” taiga stands unexpectedly. is he about to tell him to get lost? “how are you doing?”

it takes him aback. uh, he’s been shit. he’s been worrying to death over taiga’s lack of communication, and fearing the worst with every phone call ignored. daiki exhales, watching taiga walk over to the sliding doors to the tiny balcony. it’s early evening and the city is starting to twinkle. does taiga admire its familiar beauty, or does he stare out with an empty gaze? for the love of all things good, daiki, for fuck’s sake! just say something!

“fine,” excellent.

“good. how’s sabs?”

“sabs?”

“yeah. i heard things were getting serious with you two.” his voice is impossible to hear, but he’s not mocking him. taiga’s ignorance at the situation is baffling, but he isn’t being spiteful.

“uh. we-- we broke up, man, ages ago. like, a few months.”

“huh.”

silence returned. daiki hates this. he understands not googling each other, but hadn’t anyone told taiga about sabs and him? had taiga really not asked? he’d been avoiding every other basketball guy he knows, why would daiki be any different? was it possible that taiga doesn’t care anymore? no, cool it. no talking about relationships right now, it’s not the time. fuck knows what conversation this moment does call for, but it’s not that. leave it. chill. have some beer.

daiki follows his own advice and finally opens his beer. it’s gross. he’s more of a wine guy, while taiga has always liked his beers. unsurprisingly, the drink does little to distract him.

“how are your parents?”

so is this what it was going to be? small talk? daiki would prefer going back to aggressively telling taiga how fucking amazing he is, just to fight the voice that had said i’m too stupid to be a banker.

“dad’s retiring soon,” daiki replies in a sigh, “there’ll be a party. you should come.”

taiga chuckles dryly.

you don’t have to, jesus. daiki doesn’t say it, and fights the irritation as best as he can. he’s using the same patience that taiga had used with him in the past when the world had felt like it was collapsing. “mom asks about you all the time.”

a grunt this time; it’s kind of like the surprised huh from earlier, mixed with a noise of amused rejection.

“how’s your dad?”

“he doesn’t get it at all. i tried telling him imagine you lost both your hands and couldn’t work anymore, but it’s not the same. he doesn’t love his work.”

daiki’s moving before he can help it. he comes to stand beside taiga to watch the city. he can’t see beyond the reflection of taiga’s sorrowful face in the glass. he’d been right, earlier. those gorgeous eyes were empty. if he was looking at the view, his eyes were dead on the horizon.

taiga continues without interruption. “he only works as an escape from everything he fucked up in his life. me, for instance.”

“taiga,” daiki’s heart aches.

“i should’a listened when i was a kid. that’s it. i should’a paced myself.”

“would you have joined seirin’s team if you paced yourself?”

silence.

“your intensity is a part of you, taiga,” daiki says gently. taiga’s distant eyes hone in on the reflection, too, and now they’re looking at each other in the glass. daiki is first to look away like a coward. “i think if you had paced yourself, you’d have come to one of seirin’s games. you would’a found out about the generation of miracles and thought i wanna take those asshole down a notch.”

“you told me my light’s too dim when we first met, though.” taiga turns his head so that he’s facing the city again. “even if i joined the team, we still lost before we got to finally beat you.”

“it was tetsu who lifted you up to my level,” daiki’s reply is barely a whisper. he’s falling into his own memories and his eyes drop to the windowpane. it had always been him. they both dwelled on it, he didn’t have to be a mind-reader for that. he misses kuroko like hell.

“you ever wish you hated basketball?” taiga’s voice cracks. he takes a sip of beer and daiki copies him.

“yeah,” before he’d met taiga, he’d been plagued with the idea of never meeting anyone up to his standards. anyone better. kise came close, but daiki had lost to seirin. that felt like lifetimes ago now.

“this fucking sucks,” he’d finished his beer now. daiki glances over in time to see taiga blindly toss his beer bottle over his shoulder. he looks back to see where it landed. it hadn’t shattered, but flown safely onto the sofa where taiga had been sitting. taiga doesn’t move. he doesn’t react at all.

daiki feels it keenly too, can’t taiga see? he’s not alone. sure, daiki can’t fully understand how it feels to be forced into retirement due to injury, but he’s on his way there. his body is tired and it is always sore. one of these days, he’ll land funny and never properly recover. and then daiki will isolate from the world until he can figure himself out. it will be like carving the basketball out of himself. having played for his whole life, what will be left? he comes to stare at taiga so gradually that he hadn’t noticed when it happened. he sees a strong man with a huge heart and the rest of his life ahead of him. he is awesome at cooking, maybe he’ll do something with that? he has enough money that, if he’s sensible with it ( which he always has been ), he’s financially secure. hell, taiga’s always been financially secure.

he sees a man waging a war in his mind. he sees broken pieces desperately held together. daiki sees himself.

“i’ll leave if you want me to, tai. i don’t wanna make it worse.”

taiga shakes his head. he looked, for a second, like he’d say something. his mouth opened, but he changed his mind last minute and closes it again. daiki can’t stand to see him this way. if they never talk about basketball again for the rest of their lives, he’ll find something else to say. they can’t just stop talking because they can’t play against each other anymore. unless that’s really what taiga wants, which daiki doubts.

it’s a bold move, perhaps, but he bumps his knuckles gently against taiga’s hand hanging beside them. the redhead glances between them, but it doesn’t put daiki off. he carefully offers his hand to hold, forgoing breathing lest it spark an outburst. there’s no rage this time. their hands connect like they had a million times before. daiki already feels better for it, selfishly, as if how he feels is what’s important right now. fuck, he just loves taiga so much. he’ll be fine, he’s taiga. of course he will. he’s at a low point and it’s weird to see him so lost, it’s unnatural somehow, but he’ll get through it. daiki believes in him. he believes in him with his whole goddamn heart.

taiga meets his eyes just as he’s feeling like he could just say it outright. daiki sees tired, teary eyes. he squeezes his hand. “what are you thinking about?” taiga asks quietly.

“how amazing you are,” he replies. “you’ll get through this. i know you will.”

taiga scoffs, but it doesn't sound like an outright rejection. not totally, at least.

a silence settles between them as they each think of something to say. daiki wishes there was something he could do to fix it. fix all the hurt. wrap it up in a ball and throw it outside. it's more of a distraction than anything, but hadn't that metaphor sounded like basketball? it would be impossible to cut the sport from himself. he doesn't think he'd be able to do it. this must be hell for taiga. he glances over and meets teary eyes unexpectedly looking at him, too.

"come here," daiki pulls his hand away, only to slide in and wrap his arms around taiga's waist. he hadn't thought twice about it this time. it's the right thing to do.

"i'm fine," taiga sniffs.

"then it's for my benefit," he snaps. it works, and he feels familiar arms wrap around him in kind. they stand in gentle silence, there’s a wall clock ticking somewhere in the background. cars beneath them sound like crashing waves. a siren. daiki runs his hands along taiga’s back soothingly, and notes that the form is softer now where muscles had laid careful marks of definition. taiga had always been bulkier than him, but this added weight makes the guy seem immovable. and here he is, hiding his face in daiki’s shoulder in the world’s saddest hug. he has to stop himself from kissing him there and then. as if that would help anything. it used to. enough kisses peppered on taiga’s face had always been enough to lift his mood. it’s strange to love taiga with restraint, but he will, if that is what he needs.

"you were right, by the way," taiga mutters, "I haven't talked this through with anybody."

"yeah. i'm here for you, tai. but we don't gotta talk about it if you don't want to. hell, we could pretend i'm the one who works at the bank and never talk about basketball again."

"you, a banker? that's just unrealistic." it's a joke delivered totally pathetically, with a shaking voice.

"shut up," and it's a defence without any bite to it.

“sorry about sabs,” daiki feels the words mumbled into his shoulder, feels taiga’s lips say her name against his t-shirt. taiga sounds guilty. he must know.

“don’t worry about it.”

“i heard you say in that interview that you were gonna have kids. i thought you were gonna end up with her.”

“interview?” daiki frowns. taiga breaks out of the hug and opens the sliding door. he comes to lean against the balcony, and daiki is still standing where he had been, racking his brain for what the hell he was talking about? he remembers an invasive question from a dickhead reporter along those lines, but daiki hadn’t said that he was going to? have them with sabs? he had never even considered it. really never considered it. hell no. “uh,” he finally replies, realising that he hadn’t yet, “no.”

“would you, in the future? not with sabs. i just mean, in general.”

daiki slides the door further open and steps into the cool air. he rests against the railing with his forearms, looking down and out at the city. for all that it could mean, he looks over with a gentle expression at the only person that would change his mind about it. “would you?”

taiga remains fixed on the horizon. his shoulders shrug. “i never thought about shit like that before. i think so, maybe.”

daiki hums. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t admit to being happy to hear that taiga is open to it, doesn’t admit that he’s always liked the idea of having kids. at least one, maybe two. being an only child is difficult, but then, the adoption process is difficult. hopefully two kids. he recalls a conversation they had had a long time ago, or maybe it had been a moment in passing that stuck out. taiga has changed his mind. back then, daiki distinctly remembers hearing that taiga didn’t think he’d make for a very good dad. he remembers, because he knows how much he disagreed. a guy like him with a heart like that? please. it’s a given.

“while you’re here, you should visit nijimura and his kids at teiko.”

daiki blinks. the speed at which the conversation was going is leaving him behind. he’d done that before, sure, but not as often as taiga. that makes sense though, right? taiga was always good at making time for shit like that. he shrugs his shoulders. “yeah, i guess. i hadn’t thought about it.”

“daiki?” taiga says quietly. when daiki looks over, their eyes meet. god, taiga’s eyes are so fucking sad. he can’t deal with it. daiki nods, taiga continues. “i’m gonna give you a word of advice. you should really think about what you’re gonna do when you can’t play anymore. i wish i had. there’s no point dwelling on the past, but if i can stop you from feeling like this, then it won’t all be for nothing.”

daiki categorically doesn’t like talking about stuff like this. his injuries will heal. they always do. and he will play again. he is not strong like taiga, he can’t just carve it out and build himself up again. taiga will be able to tell by the look on daiki’s face that he has taken the advice to heart, even if he can’t speak for the lump in his throat. when he can, after a moment, daiki replies.

“i get it if you wanna be alone right now,” his eyes drift back to the city, “and i’ll go stand on the side-lines ‘til you’re ready if that’s what you want, but if our roles were reversed like you mentioned earlier, i hope you would know to come find me.”

“of course i would,” taiga rests forwards on the balcony, mirroring daiki. their arms touch, neither move. “when you put it like that... i’m sorry i was so hard to find.”

daiki doesn’t tell him that he loves him now. not in words. he says it between the lines, in the diminishing space between his fingertips and taiga’s skin. any excuse to touch him, he makes. now, as his head comes to rest momentarily on taiga’s shoulder. can he stay there? taiga allows it. he does. on the arm, later, as a story is told, on the hand. taiga returns it in a drifting touch across daiki’s shoulders as he’s passing in the kitchen, or that one, affectionate moment where taiga had playfully scuffed his knuckles against daiki’s chin. god, it had driven him crazy. taiga is so beautiful. his hair is a little longer. the guy’s always wanted a mullet, maybe now he’s actually growing it out? his hands, his back, his thighs. they’d been friends with benefits a few years ago because they couldn’t handle being in the same room without physically reacting to it. then they’d started taking other people. and now, daiki feels that gut instinct to give taiga everything again. but he won’t. not tonight.

instead, he’ll confess his love in the respectful silences, in reassuring smiles, the changes of conversation, the nah, i’ve got nowhere to be when 11 o’clock hit and taiga was embarrassed to have taken up so much of his time. he says i love you in the way that they briefly hold hands. in the words unsaid because now isn’t the time. in the lingering glances, in the i’ll take the couch tonight. ( taiga, in his way, says i love you as he says no you won’t, you’ll sleep with me. or at least he says i know you love me, which is good enough. ) of course they sleep together. taiga’s head comes to rest upon his chest. they’re clothed. it’s weird not immediately making out with him now that all that daiki can smell is taiga. they are silent as their arms find comfortable ways to settle to sleep. daiki waits for the longest time before he speaks. he waits for breathing to even out, and grip to loosen where taiga’s hand had come to rest at his hip. and, when he does speak, it’s barely a whisper scraped through his tired, croaking throat:

“i love you, tai.”

nothing happens. taiga had been asleep. the night wears on and daiki’s mind walks through every sentence they had spoken. he falls asleep as the stars start to fade, wakes up again when taiga is getting out of bed, but doesn’t stay up. later, the smell of breakfast makes him stir ( it’s never failed before ). taiga tells him that he’s got a job at a bakery, so this bread is actually made by him. it’s perfect, but of course it is. it’s his.

#drabbles.#aokaga #future verse.#this came from a prompt then what was prompted never happened so :///// i moved it to its own post #imagine over 5.6k words and what you had PLANNED to happen JUST DOESNT #these guys are too unreliable. smh #lol since the last tag i added MORE WORDS because apparently i REALLY CANT STOP #SJDSJHD SINCE THE LAST TAG I ADDED MORE OH MY GOD IM JUST GOING TO STOP WRITING NOW

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

Our Place- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Requested by Anonymous: Okay so we got Tom Holland x reader domestic moments. But can we possibly get Harrison Osterfield domestic moments...?????👉👈

Prompt: You and Harrison buy a house together, much to the other boys’ dismay.

Word Count: 5700

Warnings: some sexual jokes/themes, swearing, Harrison lowkey being a bad driver, this is as fluffy as cotton candy

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Pic is not mine*

~~~

“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving us.” Tom huffed as he picked up one end of the bed frame.

“We won’t even be that far away.” Harrison laughed, holding up the other end and helping him move it out of the room.

“Sorry, Tom, I’m stealing him.” You smiled innocently as you watched Harrison slowly walk the frame backwards down the staircase.

“I don’t get it. You stay here almost every night.” Tom pointed out to you.

“It was my idea.” Your boyfriend piped up as you opened the door for them.

“Yeah, so don’t blame me.” You added. Harrison blew you a kiss while he passed you, walking the bed frame outside with Tom. You shut the front door behind them and returned to Harrison’s room- well, technically his former room.

You and Harrison had been together for three years, and every moment you spent with him was incredible, he was incredible. For the past several months, you spent a lot of your time at his place. Part of it was that the other boys were far more enjoyable to be around than your actual roommates. So when he realized your apartment lease was expiring soon, he asked you to move in with him. Of course, you said yes, but then he started looking at apartments and even houses, somewhere for you two to call home, the perfect Osterfield-Y/L/N residence. You went out a couple of times to look at some open houses together, but nothing seemed right. Just a week before your lease ended (so last week), Harrison found the perfect house for the two of you and you both managed to sign the lease. Today was the big moving day. You had brought all of the stuff from your apartment already to the new place (since your apartment was already furnished when you got it and couldn’t take a lot of the things), so now it was time to move all of Harrison’s stuff out.

“How’s the dresser coming?” Harry asked, stepping into Harrison’s room to grab the nightstand.

“He’s got so many clothes, it’s unbelievable.” You joked, even though a portion of the clothes in the dresser were yours, as you put the last drawer of his clothes into a box.

“Dresser, ready?” Sam came into the room next and Harry nodded.

“You two got it?” You asked, looking at them skeptically as they picked up the heavy, tall dresser.

“Yeah, definitely.” The curly haired twin reassured you. They barely made it out of the room before pausing.

“Right, so Tom and Haz got the dresser.” Sam said, stepping back into the room.

“I won’t say no to a good gun show.” You laughed.

“What? Were we not good enough?” Harry looked at you in faux offense while his twin jokingly flexed his guns.

“Grab the nightstands.” You instructed before picking up the box of clothes and making your way out of the room with the twins following you. You three met Tuwaine at the bottom of the stairs as he held a box of Harrison’s kitchenware labeled ‘fragile’.

“Look, we can all go together.” Tuwaine let out a laugh. You opened the front door and made your way outside, leading the other three boys on the sidewalk to your new house.

Oh yeah, that perfect house Harrison found? Well, it was literally three houses over, so it made the move easier. You did feel a little bad for the neighbors stuck in between, knowing that the boys would get up to some sort of chaos involving the neighborhood now and not just their house.

“Hey, stranger.” Harrison greeted you at the doorstep of your new home.

“You two get to bring over the dresser.” You informed him and he gave you a short but sweet kiss before he and Tom left for another round of moving furniture.

“How much more stuff does he have?” Sam let out a whine as he and Harry continued following you to the master bedroom, Tuwaine ducking out to the kitchen with his box.

“Well, there’s probably four or five boxes left from his room and then there’s the mattress, bookcase, desk, and TV that we need to get.” You explained, mentally going back to his bedroom. You smiled to yourself as you saw his bed frame (though it didn’t have the mattress there yet) pushed up against the wall, right underneath the window. You were really moving in with Harrison. This was real.

“Then we have to build stuff.” Harry added, putting down the nightstand beside the bed frame. “What time was Paddy supposed to come help?”

“He was supposed to come?” His twin asked with raised eyebrows, setting down the nightstand next to the bed. “I knew he was faking sick.”

“Well, he’s not here, so let’s just keep moving.” You laughed at them, both of them suddenly offended that their younger brother had dipped out on helping today. Honestly, you were just appreciative of the fact that they were all helping; it moved the process along a lot faster than if it was just you and Harrison. “Now, come on, we’ve still got more to bring over.”

A few more trips down and the six of you took a short lunch break in the boys’ kitchen (since you didn’t really have a table or food at your new place). After that, it was time for you all to start building and unpacking things.

“What kind of instructions are these?” Harrison questioned, looking between the paper and the disassembled entertainment center in front of him.

“We don’t need those. It’s just a matching game.” Tom insisted, picking up a couple pieces of wood and trying to see how they fit together. “I was a carpenter, I know how to do this.”

“I don’t think you do.” You shook your head at him as your boyfriend handed you the instructions.

“Y/N, do you want us to set up the table?” Harry asked and you nodded.

“If you don’t mind, that and the chairs. It’d be nice to have somewhere to sit.” You laughed.

“Got it.” He replied, heading to the other room with Tuwaine and Sam to step up the dining table.

“Okay, so I think this goes first.” You started to help Harrison and Tom with the entertainment center, understanding the confusing instructions (for the most part).

“I am Thor, the mighty God of thunder.” Tom did his best Chris Hemsworth impression, swinging the regular hammer in his hands. You and your boyfriend just looked at each other and sighed, maybe giving Tom a weapon was a bad idea. It was definitely a bad idea as he tried to hammer in a nail and hit Harrison’s thumb instead.

“Hey, don’t go for the thumb, dumbass!” He shouted.

“This is going to be a long day.” You laughed.

“Kiss it and make it better?” Harrison held out his red thumb to you. You rolled your eyes at him before planting a kiss to his finger.

By the end of the day, your house was coming together. The living room was set up with a tv, entertainment center, coffee table, couch, and armchair; the kitchen still needed some unpacking to be done, but at least the silverware, plates, bowls, and cups were put away; the dining room had a proper table in it, complete with a few chairs; the spare room, which you had both decided to just make it an office and use it for storage, had the desk in it and a few random boxes; and your bedroom had, well, the bed and a dresser, a couple nightstands, and a bookcase. There were no decorations up yet, but it definitely felt like home now and you couldn’t be happier.

“What time is it?” You groaned, trying to hide your face further in Harrison’s neck the next morning, hoping it’d drown out the bright sun rays streaming into the bedroom.

“Too early.” He whined, eyes still shut tight as his hand caressed your back lightly.

“We need blinds. Add that to the list.” Your voice was muffled by shoulder, but he let out a laugh and you knew he’d heard you. You lifted your head up to look at your boyfriend and he blinked his eyes open to see you, both of you still hazy from sleep.

“Well, at least we know our room gets sunlight.” He laughed and leaned in to give you a kiss. When he pulled away from the kiss, his sleepy blue eyes looking into yours, “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Muffins?” You suggested, thinking a poppyseed muffin sounded pretty good.

“I don’t think we have muffin tins.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Shit, wait, we don’t have any food here.” You both let out matching groans; yesterday, you’d been so caught up in just moving furniture and essentials in that you forgot about the biggest essential- food. Besides like a few snacks and some cooking things, like flour and spices, your kitchen was empty.

“So, we’re going out for breakfast.” You laughed.

“Better get cleaned up then because I’m hungry.” Harrison let out a loud sigh followed by a yawn as you two got out of bed.

“After breakfast, guess we’re going grocery shopping?” You offered with a laugh, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. You pulled up your notes tab, adding “blinds/curtains” to your list of things to buy. Furnishing a house was decently expensive, and it seemed like a good amount of things neither of you thought of until you needed them.

“Or we could go to the store to get the blinds and whatever else we need, and then go grocery shopping last? So nothing perishes?” He suggested, grabbing a couple towels from the linen cabinet and putting them on the hooks near the shower.

“That’s true.” You nodded, making a mental note of that.

“We need bath rugs.” He stated as he turned on the shower, letting the water warm up. You added it to your list- neither of you had really brought much in the way of bathroom supplies. You felt Harrison wrap his arms around your waist and he started to kiss the sweet spot on your neck gently. You laughed lightly as you felt him begin to leave a hickey.

“Get off me, you leech. I just got rid of that giant one from last week.” You elbowed him a little, feeling him start to suck harder.

“Exactly why I’ve got to leave another one.” He replied, lifting his head off your neck to present you with his work. He smiled like a little kid showing off his painting.

“Time to test out the new shower?” You teased and he hummed in agreement.

“Gotta make sure we didn’t waste our money on this place.” He joked. You set your phone back down on the counter and followed him into the shower to “test” it out.

~~~

“How’s your muffin?” Harrison asked before eating his own muffin while stopped at a red light. Neither of you really wanted to stop and eat breakfast in public, so eating while he was driving to your first store of the day was completely safe, right?

“Delicious.” You smiled, holding it out for him to take a bite. As he did so, the light turned green and he started to go, lightly pushing away your hand while he chewed, crumbs tumbling everywhere. “This poor BMW’s getting so mistreated.”

“I’ll vacuum it out.” He replied through a mouthful of your muffin.

“Damn it, we need a vacuum.” You sighed, grabbing out your phone again to add that to the list.

“That was an amazing muffin.” He smiled once he had finished eating that bite.

“Let me try yours.” He held it out to you, not really looking at his hand nor his muffin as he tried to focus on driving- luckily it was just a straight line. You took a bite out of it before he ate some more himself. You did a quick chef’s kiss, he had a good muffin, too.

By the time you two got to the store, you’d both finished your breakfasts and walked hand-in-hand towards the entrance. Harrison started making a beeline to his favorite shoe store right next to it, but you tugged him back.

“We need home improvement stuff, not shoes.” You teased him.

“But they’ll improve our home.” He insisted with a small whine, even though he knew he didn’t need more shoes. That boy had more pairs of shoes than you did; the shoe rack you two had bought only fit his shoes (so he bought a second one for yours).

You made your way into the store, seeking out the items on your list. Harrison grabbed a cart and pushed it with one hand, his other still holding onto yours, while your free hand held your phone so you could view your list.

“We need a vacuum.” You pointed over to the aisle that had the cleaning supplies and the two of you made your way over there.

“Are we going for the cheapest vacuum? I don’t really know a good vacuum.” Harrison admitted, leaning on the cart as you both eyed the selection in front of you.

“We had this one at my old place. It worked well.” You said, pointing to a grey and purple vacuum.

“I honestly can’t tell you if the boys and I even owned a vacuum. I think we just borrowed from Tom’s mum.” He laughed sheepishly.

“You did because I’ve used it.” You shook your head at him, “So this one?”

“Yeah, easy enough.” He nodded, grabbing the box and setting it in the cart.

“And we need a lamp.” You said, nodding over to the lamps the next aisle over.

“For what?” He asked.

“The living room.” You replied and a look of recognition crossed his face.

“Right. The lighting’s shit in there.” He followed you over to the lamps.

After picking out a lamp that looked like it would go nice enough in your living room, you two went off to the kitchen section. You searched for a muffin tin while he looked for a paper towel holder one aisle over. You smiled happily when you found a pack of a few muffin tins (ya know, in case you feel like making several batches). As you made your way around the corner, you heard Harrison laughing down the other aisle; it almost sounded like he was uncomfortable. You made your way into the aisle and saw that there was another girl down there with him. You refrained from laughing as she was obviously trying to flirt with your poor boyfriend who just wanted to find a paper towel holder.

“Got the muffin tin. Did you get the holder, baby?” You announced your presence, putting the pack of tins in the cart and casually slipping your arm around his waist. Harrison knew exactly what you meant by calling him ‘baby’, the pet name reserved for when you’re jealous or trying to get something out of him.

“Yep, does this work, sweetheart?” He asked, picking up the holder that was in the cart. ‘Sweetheart’ was his pet name, turned codename, for when he was jealous or just trying to match your jealousy’. The other girl slowly left the aisle without another word and he laughed lightly, lowering his voice, “Baby? Were you jealous?”

“Nope. I had to establish my dominance and rescue you from that somehow.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling up at him.

“My hero.” He laughed, leaning down to kiss you. You two continued your journey to find more items from your list. Just as you both were passing by the decor section, something caught your eye.

“This is so cheesy, but really cute.” You pointed out, pulling him over to it. It was one of those large world map shaped cork boards that you could pin a picture to, showing all your different travels together. Considering you two had traveled to several different countries together, it’d be cute to have it.

“Wanna get it?” Harrison asked, picking it up off the shelf as you two inspected it some more.

“Do you think it’d go well in the living room?” You inquired, trying to picture where you could put it.

“Or our room.” He added, setting it in the cart. As you two looked through some more decorations, he said definitively, “Next year, I’m taking you to Paris.”

“I don’t even get a say in where we’ll go?” You teased, looking over at him as he held up an artsy framed photograph of the Eiffel Tower.

“Are you going to say no to Paris? Think of all the croissants we could eat.”

“They’d kick us out because you’d eat all of them.” You laughed, poking him in the stomach before looking at some more wall art.

“We should get a houseplant.” He suggested as he put the Paris picture back.

“I feel like we’d kill it.”

“We definitely would, but at least we can say we tried.”

Over an hour later, you two had basically everything needed for your new home together, including a houseplant that would probably be dead in a week. You’d bought enough stuff that his car was too full to fit any groceries, meaning you had to make a pitstop back home and unload everything- plus Harrison had stopped at his shoe store and bought another pair because “they were on sale!”.

“What playlist are you on?” You asked as you two got settled back in his car, ready to go out to the grocery store after having unloaded all the stuff from your previous trip. You were starting to grow bored of the random playlist he’d left his phone on, a.k.a. the music that was basically your radio for the car ride.

“I don’t know.” Harrison shrugged, taking out his phone and handing it over to you. You took his phone, replacing it with your hand, intertwining your fingers together. As he started to drive, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. You laughed as you saw his lock screen- it was a picture of the two of you from over two years ago when you both were bored, taking the ugliest selfies possible. You were cross eyed, sticking your tongue out while squeezing his cheeks together while he made a ridiculous duck face. It was a joke picture, meant for just the two of you, and even if you knew he hadn’t changed it in ages, it still meant a lot to you to see it.

“What are you laughing at?” He asked, looking over at you briefly with a smile.

“Your lock screen.” You answered, unlocking his phone and pulling up Spotify to change playlists.

“I need to change it.”

“Why? It’s cute.” You laughed at the outdated photo as you scrolled through the music selection.

“Because you don’t have me as your lock screen.” He said teasingly.

“Not true!” You protested, even though you both knew your lock screen wasn’t him. It was a photo of Monty, smiling at your camera. Technically, Harrison was in it; it was just his hand though. You didn’t purposefully cut him out of the picture, he was just there to keep his dog still. Besides, before that it was a picture of Harrison getting licked in the face by Monty and that was your lock screen for over a year. In your defense though, your current home screen was a picture of the two of you watching the sunset on a beach in Atlanta that Harry had taken. You were tucked into his lap, your head nestled back on his shoulder and he leaned his head against yours. Your faces were obscured since the photo was taken from behind, but you knew both of you were smiling in pure happiness.

“Let me see it then. The photo of Monty doesn’t count.” Damn, he knew your phone too well.

“You’re driving.” You said, moving your phone away from the center console before he could attempt at grabbing it. You found your favorite playlist, appropriately titled “Music That Makes Me Cringe But Y/N Likes Them- Don’t Play This One, I’m Begging You Sweetheart”, and looked through to find a good song to start it on.

“Don’t even-” Harrison started, knowing that look on your face, knowing you’d gone onto that playlist. You smirked, clicking on a song title, hearing the familiar 80’s techno tune begin. He let out a groan, but, as much as he pretended to hate the playlist, you knew he loved it.

“We’re not strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I, a full commitment that’s what I’m thinking of,” You sang along to the famous Rick Astley song.

“Yeah, a full commitment of living with you now.” He teased.

“C’mon, Haz,” You laughed as the song got to the chorus.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you, never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you,” You both sang along to the cheesy song.

“Can’t believe you rickrolled me.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“You knew it was coming.” You picked up your intertwined hands and kissed the back of his hand.

“You’re not allowed to play that song at our wedding.”

“Oh, we’re getting married now? I don’t see a ring.” You jokingly inspected your left hand.

“I can change that if you want me to.” He laughed, but you knew he was still serious. You two had talked about marriage, but agreed to wait until you were a little older, a little more settled into your careers- that didn’t stop either of you from those jokes.

“You ready for the next song?” You smirked as you looked at the queue.

“If you play-” He started, looking over at you since he was now stopped at a red light.

“Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me, I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” You sang along passionately to the song as it started, and he playfully rolled his eyes at you.

“This is what I signed up to live with?” He laughed and you pouted.

“You’re acting like you haven’t put up with me for three years.” You teased. His eyes flickered back to the light, making sure it was still red before leaning over the console to kiss you. It was cut short by the car behind you honking, signaling to the two of you that the light was definitely green now. As Harrison continued to drive, you went back to your phone, trying to discreetly change your background to prove that it was him and not just Monty. Really, your lock screen was his fault because he was the one with the insanely cute dog. You had a lot of pictures of your boyfriend (naturally, he was so photogenic) so it was hard to find just one to use- another reason why it easier to just use an adorable photo of Monty.

You came across one specific picture that you loved from Halloween last year when you two dressed up as Brad and Angelina in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You were in the elevator of some hotel in New York (you weren’t even sure why you were there) and you two were doing the back-to-back serious pose as he took the picture via the floor length mirror. You two were both half drunk so it didn’t come out as impressive as when Brad and Angelina did the pose, but it was still one of your favorites photos. Just as you were fitting it to your background, Harrison spoke up, “You’re changing it, aren’t you?”

“Eyes on the road, mister!” You exclaimed and he just laughed at you.

“Leave it as Monty, I know how much you love that picture of my hand.” He said, stopping at another red light.

“You have very nice hands, but I changed it anyway.” You turned your phone to show him your new lock screen and he nodded approvingly.

“Ah yes, drunk assassins.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can you play “My Girl”?”

“I’ll never say no to The Temptations.” You laughed, starting the classic song from his phone. You both danced along to the smooth beat of the song (you more so than him because he was driving still).

“I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day, when it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May, well I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?” You both sang the beginning of the song. Harrison leaned over closer to you, doing his best to balance between singing to you and being a good driver.

“My girl, my girl, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” He nodded his head along to the beat, pressing a kiss to your hand.

“You cheeseball,” You teased while he kept singing the song. “This one’s our wedding song.”

“Of course it is. Were you questioning that?” He joked. You pulled out your phone, deciding to film him continuing to sing the song.

“I don’t need no money, fortune, or fame,” He sent a look over to the camera as you stifled a laugh, “I’ve got all the riches, baby, one man can claim. I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way? My girl, my girl, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” He blew a kiss at the camera and you stopped the video. You laughed as you saved it, posting it to your Instagram story with the caption: ‘Look at my cheeseball’.

He continued to drive while you checked out your Instagram feed. You laughed to yourself, seeing a fan account’s meme of him and Monty (yes, you followed a few fan accounts because the things they’d say sometimes were hilarious). You liked the post and sent it to Harrison’s Instagram; his phone dinged loudly, cutting off the music momentarily.

“Did you send me something?” He asked as you looked at his phone in your lap.

“I didn’t know you had notifications on.” You laughed, not expecting his phone to alert him, especially of an Instagram dm.

“I only have them on for you.” He admitted, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. You smiled, reaching over and pinching his cheek lightly.

“Aw, I’ve got you so whipped.”

“What if I got a motorcycle?” Harrison asked, looking at the motorcyclist in front of him.

“I don’t know. I’d say you’re pretty hot without one, but if it’s an excuse to see you in a leather jacket then,” You trailed off, before adding, “Your mum would probably kill you for that though.”

“You’re not wrong.” He laughed in acknowledgment. She definitely would not appreciate it if he got a motorcycle, but you and Harrison both knew he’d never actually buy one. Even though he ate in his car a good amount of time, it was still his baby and he loved it too much to trade it in.

Just as he parked the car in front of the store, you got a text from your own mother, reminding you of your cousin’s baby shower tomorrow- a.k.a. giving you a day to find a gift. You were in perfect luck that there was literally a kids’ clothing store right beside the grocery store.

“I need to get something for my cousin’s baby shower.” You told Harrison before either of you could get out of the car.

“Do I need to go to that?” He asked, eyes wide. He had plans to go golfing tomorrow with Tom- or at least, he’d make those plans if he needed to.

“What? No, it’s kind of girls only.” You shook your head, “Can we go next door really fast before we get groceries? I just need to get a couple onesies or something.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” The two of you got out of the car and made your way over to the baby store in search of a quick gift. Your cousin was having a boy so you had a decently good idea of what to get. You easily found some simple baby shoes at the front, not putting much thought into it.

“Look at this one! It even has a cape.” Harrison grinned happily, holding up a black onesie that had yellow print on it saying ‘my daddy is Batman’ and showing you the little cape attached to it.

“Haz, we’ve been through this. Her husband’s a Superman fan.” You reminded him. The first time he’d met her husband, the two had a heated discussion about if Superman or Batman was better and you swore your 21 year old (at the time) boyfriend turned into a geeky 12 year old.

“Wel, I’m physically incapable of buying a Superman onesie. I’m getting this.” He insisted, and you looked at him with raised eyebrows. “For our kid.”

“I’d need to be pregnant for that to even be reasonable, and that’s not gonna be for a while.” You laughed at his ridiculousness.

“You’re right. My pullout game’s too strong for that.” He winked and you rolled your eyes at him, hoping none of the other customers in the store heard that. He still held onto the onesie, fully intending on buying it and holding onto it until you two had kids.

“How about this?” You asked, showing him a pack of onesies that had Justice League prints.

“It’s your cousin, you know that, right?” He chuckled with a nod.

“You’re seriously buying that one?” You looked down at the Batman onesie still clutched in his hands.

“Of course. I’m not saying I’m Batman, but you’ve never seen me and Batman in the same room together.” Harrison stated.

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You laughed, grabbing the Justice League onesies and going to the counter. Harrison happily added the Batman onesie to the small pile.

With the baby shower gift all sorted, you two went into the grocery store, shopping up and down the aisles for basically everything- milk, cereal, freezer food, fruits, vegetables, meat, bread. It wasn’t until the two of you were already in line to checkout that you realized you were missing the muffin mix- the most important thing for your mornings.

“I forgot the muffin mix.” You let out a small sigh, stepping back from the cart to go grab it, but Harrison stopped you.

“I got it. You stay here.” He reassured you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving off to get some mix. The next customer left and it was your turn to checkout so you loaded up your items onto the conveyor belt.

“This is the fullest cart I’ve seen all day. I’m impressed.” The cashier laughed as he started to scan the items.

“I’ve got a whole kitchen to stock.” You replied with a smile.

“Looks like you’ve got the essentials.” He nodded towards the wine and beer still resting on the belt.

“Of course.” You started to wonder when Harrison would come back with the muffin mix. You couldn’t tell if the cashier was trying to (pathetically) flirt with you or just being extra friendly, but you could’ve sworn he winked at you.

“Three boxes of muffin mix, sweetheart.” Harrison said, rushing up to you and dropping them onto the conveyor belt. Obviously, he’d noticed that wink, and his own little hint of jealousy was kicking in.

“Thanks, baby.” You smiled at him and he not-so-discreetly wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your temple. Before you could pull out your wallet to pay, Harrison stopped you.

“I got it, sweetheart.” It took everything in you to not roll your eyes at his behavior, but you enjoyed it. Seeing your boyfriend get protective over you for something that wasn’t that big of a deal was oddly reassuring; you had him so whipped and he had you so whipped.

When the cashier had finished, Harrison paid and the two of you went on your way back out to his car. With the groceries loaded into the trunk, you both got into the car and he started to drive off, his hand slipping into yours on the center console. A Bon Jovi song played from his phone, the same cringey playlist turned on.

An hour later, you two had finally gotten home and packed away the groceries before you lied down on your new couch, completely exhausted from your busy weekend.

“God, no one said moving into a house was this much work.” You groaned and Harrison came to lie down beside you on the couch, his arms around your waist as your hands softly played in his hair that tickled the back of his neck.

“I’m so glad we did this though.” He told you with a genuine smile.

“I’m glad we did, too.” You leaned in and kissed him. You tugged lightly on his hair, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue finding its way to yours. He shifted so you were lying on your back and he kept one hand by your head to keep him up, the other hand slipping under your shirt. His lips trailed down to your collarbone, going to leave another hickey.

“I swear I moved in with a vampire.” You said almost breathlessly and he laughed lightly on your skin.

“What do you say we test out this couch?” He looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

“I’d ask what if someone walks in, but this is our place.”

“Mhm, our place.” He leaned back down to keep kissing you. Before the kiss could go much further, the front door opened and Tom, Harry, and Tuwaine walked in. Harrison didn’t even move from his place on top of you as he shot a glare towards his friends.

“What? We miss you.” Tom pouted as Harry held up a football as a peace offering.

“So much for our place.” You laughed, getting up off the couch with Harrison. You’d definitely need to take that spare key back from Tom.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield fluff

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sammystep · 4 years ago

Text

No One Lives Forever- CH12

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

The drive into city limits was thankfully uneventful. There was enough gas left from the last stop to make it all the way to the new apartment so Joseph declared that there would be no more stops. You and the younger guys had no issue with this plan, all of you so beyond tired that you would have agreed to any plan that involved you getting back to sleep.

It’s mid-morning when you wake up next, neck stiff from the awkward angle you slept in. You ended up in the very back row next to Kakyoin this time, and you both have to wait for Jotaro and Polnareff to fold down the seat to let you out. It’s disorienting to wake up in a completely new place. You’re greeted with a pretty nondescript parking garage, warm city air breezing through the open structure and kicking up dust and other questionable smells. You quickly cover your nose with your sleeve, reminded why you prefer smaller towns.

“Cheer up everyone! Not much further now.” Joseph seems to have really benefited from the full nights sleep, practically skipping past you all carrying his own bags as you trudge to the back of the truck to help unload. Between the six of you there is no need for a second trip, so the pack follows Joseph to the elevator, but instead of heading to the ground floor to begin your journey to the new apartment he selects the ‘lobby’ floor. If he was bouncing before, Joseph is vibrating with excitement now. “Everyone stay right here for a moment while I get the key. I want this to be a surprise.” Jotaro sighs but ends up putting his bag down in the open elevator door to wait for Joseph to get back. The view out the door is obstructed by a wall with some kind of post-modern art on it, the parking garage you just came from must be private parking for residents of the building. Your shoulders slump in relief; tension you didn’t know you were carrying melting at the realization you wouldn’t be hauling your bags across town on foot.

Joseph is back quickly, a brass key held out in front of him like some sort of holy relic as he walks. “Caesar’s been sending me pictures of the place; get ready to be blown away!” he turns the key in the elevator panel and selects a residential floor.

“Uncle Caesar’s already been here then?” Jotaro inquires.

“Well, he was. His email just said that it got set up and he’ll be done with company business soon. Then his pack is going to join us.” Joseph scratches at his beard as you all watch the numbers light up on the indicator panel. “I’ll call him today and we’ll get the final plan set in stone. It sounded like they only had a few things to set up before they can leave the company on ‘autopilot’ for a while.” His grin is as bright as ever as the elevator finally stops on the 26th floor and he rushes into the hallway as soon as the doors open wide enough.

The rest of you follow at a more sedated pace but you can’t help the excited feeling in your gut as you progress. The front door is flung wide open as Joseph hurls himself through the opening. You are almost blinded by the amount of natural light that greets you as you enter.

The two-level floor to ceiling windows grant a spectacular view of the city skyline, few other buildings tall enough to obstruct your view. The white walls and furniture bounce the light around the open living room and reflect off the glass and silver modern tables, everything placed and organized perfectly.

To your left is a dining area with a modern table and chairs, dark woods and pale cream-colored decorations tying in the colors of the living room. A large chandelier blocks some of your view to the kitchen, but from what you can see it is the most high-end residential kitchen you’ve ever seen outside of magazines and movies. Hell, it would put some of those to shame too. A pastel, almost minty aqua tile behind the stove is the only color added to the otherwise monochrome browns and creams so far, silver appliances shine in the reflected light.

Polnareff whistles loudly as he gives the place a good look as well, pretty much summarizing your thoughts. Jotaro, Kakyoin and Avdol are more modest in their reactions but you can tell by the way they straighten up and look around that they are eager to explore the new place too. Joseph is standing in front of the huge main window with his hands on his hips looking out on the mid-morning skyline. He turns with a flourish and throws his hands in the air, “We finally did it! I thought the previous owners were going to holdout forever, but we out lasted them! And now it’s ours!”

“Wait, you own this? Its not just a cool monthly rental?” you haven’t moved very far from the doorway, afraid to get anything dirty.

Jotaro ducks his head so his hat obscures most of this face, “Well, that’s not exactly what he means.”

“That’s right, JoeStar Realty has become a pretty big conglomerate since Caesar and I started it. We didn’t just buy out this apartment, we now own the whole building!” Joseph throws his head back and laughs triumphantly. You’re gob smacked as the reality of his statement sinks in. just what kind of pack did you stumble into? “Come on- showers and bedrooms are upstairs. We’ll all get situated and just relax today.” Joseph leads the charge up the stairs to your right and you all follow him up, bags in tow.

“There are five bedrooms, but with the Zeppeli pack staying here we’re going to have to share. I’ll give him a call and see what’s going on.” The rest of the guys nod and split up to explore the upper level. You follow suit and are amazed by the opulent bedroom you find yourself in. Looking in each doorway you see there are two smaller rooms decorated in creams and whites, still big enough to comfortably fit queen size beds. The larger three rooms done in blue, green, and grey are all furnished with king sized beds.

“(Y/N)! We’ve got two showers in this place- one of them is yours if you want to go first.” Joseph shouts from down the hall and you can see him poking his head out of one of the doorways.

“Yeah, sounds good to me- if everyone is cool with it?” You make your way over to the free bathroom, no one disagreeing with letting you be one of the first to shower. “I promise I’ll be quick!” You shout to the hallway before closing the door. the bathroom is just as fancy as the rest of the apartment, a large walk-in shower taking up most of the space. There are so many buttons and knobs, you’re tempted to try all of the settings but you just promised to be quick. Maybe you’d have the time to fully test it out later.

Luckily the apartment was also stocked with other essentials like towels and soap, and after a disappointingly fast shower – you only had time to try out a few of the fancy settings- you quickly change into a new outfit and grab a comb from your bag before dropping it off in one of the bedrooms. You make your way back downstairs to the living room and Polnareff jumps from his seat at the dining table when he sees you. He’s already bounded up the stairs before you can announce the shower is open now.

“Ah, (Y/N). I’ve got good news! I gave Caesar a quick call- he and his pack won’t be here till tomorrow afternoon. Polnareff volunteered to sleep out here in the living room, so we all get our own rooms for the night.” Joseph says as he and Avdol make use of the kitchen. Soap and towels must not be the only things supplied by the mysterious Zeppeli pack. A pretty impressive array of sandwich meats and condiments are spread out on the counter, and Joseph is putting the finishing touches on his own monstrous sandwich creation.

Jotaro is already showered and changed and sitting at the dining table working his way through his own mountain of sandwiches; you put you phone and comb down on the table next to him to save your spot while you make your own food. Cringing to yourself, you hope no one else notices you basically marked out territory right next to the alpha of the pack. Quickly throwing together some sandwiches you join the guys at the table.

The relaxed atmosphere is broken by the chorus of ‘Mama Mia’ suddenly staring to play. Joseph nearly chokes on the bite he just took and coughs it down as he reaches for his cell phone. He finally gets himself under control and answers the call, “Suzi! Sweetheart!”

“Jojo dear! I just got off the phone with Caesar, when were you going to tell me you were back in the city? And what’s all this nonsense about monsters?”

“He, uh, told you about that, did he? Well, its nothing to worry yourself over. I was going to give you a call once we all got settled here.” Joseph’s free hand can’t seem to stary still, alternating between scratching his beard and ruffling his hair. “But it’s all good now! Everyone is fine, perfectly fine! No reason to worry!”

“You are a terrible liar Jojo. Is everyone really ok?”

Joseph relaxes a bit and a small smile creeps onto his face. He makes his way out to the balcony to take the call in private. Shutting the glass door, he takes a look at everyone gathered at the table before turning to face the city skyline.

“Jojo?”

“I’m here, just stepped out for some privacy.” He takes a deep breath to prepare before continuing. “We’re all ok for the most part. Some cuts and bruises but we’re all in one piece.”

The silence that follows is almost more frightening than Suzi screaming at him. Finally, she breaks it, “Where are you, I’ll be right there.”

“No! No, you stay put. Besides, Caesar and his pack are going to be here tomorrow, there’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this Joseph. If there are dangerous people around, we should be together- the whole pack. There is safety in numbers after all.”

“Suzi, darling. Love of my life and sun in my sky,” Joseph does his best to butter up his mate, “I’m begging you to stay where you are; where you’re safe. We are attracting all kinds of enemies right now, if you got caught up in my fight again…” Joseph trails off, hoping the desperation in his voice talks some sense into her.

It seems to have done the trick as Suzi sighs loudly into the receiver, “Ok, have it your way Jojo. But are you going to keep everyone away? Remember Holly and Sado are supposed to be back in time for his big audition.”

“Damn. I forgot they were coming back so soon.” Joseph slaps a palm to his forehead and rubs it over his face.

“Oh! Wait! This gives me an idea!” Suzi practically sings into the phone, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Fiona and her kids, I’m sure Caesar wasn’t planning on bringing his whole pack along with him. She and Holly and anyone else not needed to fight, we can all stay together! We’ll have the best of both, all of us out of harms way and safety of numbers!”

“Suzi, you are absolutely brilliant. I’ll get Jotaro and Caesar up to speed on this plan. I’m sure they’ll agree. We can look for a cabin outside of town, that way you’ll be able to transform if you do run into trouble.”

“Oh, silly me! I keep forgetting we need to let Jotaro make the decisions. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to my baby grandson being in charge.”

“I know. I’m still getting used to it myself, but he’s doing so well. Even with everything going on. Listen to this, it all started when we were at the new cabin to check out the area…”

***

From inside you watch as Joseph starts pacing and throwing his hands in the air as he talks on the phone. Jotaro had explained that was his grandma Suzi’s ringtone, Joseph was probably telling his mate everything that happened over the past several days. You pause as you are about to take another bite. Had it really only been a few days? Just a week ago you were a lone wolf, going from town to town as you pleased, and now…

You smile and greet Kakyoin and Polnareff as they take a seat at the table as well. Between bites of his food, Polnareff regals you all with a story about a job he had some years back that took place in a building down the street from this one. You do your best to look like you are listening, but you can’t help your thoughts drifting off to this strange situation you’ve become tangled in. You felt so at ease with everyone here, so unlike the packs you’ve tried to join in the past. They were such a close-knit bunch, especially considering it was rare for packs to be made up of so many non-family members. Hopefully the threads now tying you to this pack held strong after the hunter issue was solved. Just the thought of being outed from the group is enough to make you anxious, but you quickly quell the feeling with the resolve that you will do everything you can to prove you deserve to stay. To prove you belong.

The rest of lunch passes uneventfully, one by one you migrate to the living room and you end up sitting between Jotaro and Kakyoin again on one of the couches. Joseph and Avdol are across from you, Polnareff remaining at the table as he pulls out a laptop from his luggage. Now that you’re settled, clean, and full it’s hard not to drift between sleep and wakefulness. You don’t want to completely upset your sleep schedule so you settle on paying attention to the classic movie Joseph found on TV.

Jotaro and Kakyoin have no reservations about this it seems as they both quickly settle in for a nap as their attention on the TV wanes. Polnareff gives a loud yawn as he snaps his laptop shut and stands up to stretch. “Polnareff, would you mind if I borrowed your laptop if you’re finished with it?” Avdol stops him from putting it back in the carry case.

“Sure, what do you need it for?” Polnareff hands over the silver laptop, standing behind the couch and leaning over to see the screen.

“Something has been bothering me, about the encounters we’ve had recently. We seem to have run into more than our fair share, one of them even mentioning Dio by name.” You can see Polnareff’s hair stand on end and a full body shiver run through him at the mention of Dio. “I need to know; was it just bad luck that we ran into them? Or is there a magical component to this that we are not seeing? I need to do some research, but I wouldn’t put it past whoever is behind all this to use supernatural means to track and keep sight on us.”

You sit up straight in your seat as a chill rushes down your spine. You had been attributing the encounters to just bad luck, but the thought that they were intentional… Joseph seems to feel the same way, he stands from his seat with a growl and starts pacing.

“How can we tell for sure if we’re being watched?” Jotaro’s voice startles you. Apparently, he hadn’t been fully asleep. Kakyoin leans forward in his seat as well, the whole pack focused intently on Avdol.

“There are a few ways I can deduce if there is some kind of tracking spell being cast. But I need some time to refresh my knowledge on the subject. More importantly, if we find that there is a spell involved, we may be able to counter it.” Avdol hadn’t looked away from the screen while he addressed the pack, already deep into his research process.

“You’ll be able to block it once you know what it is?” You question him, curious to how the other werewolf could have such an in-depth knowledge of spells that he would only need to ‘refresh’ his knowledge.

“Not just block it. Most people don’t realize this, and in fact most spell casters depend on it, but when you use magic to view something it is like opening a window to look through. But when this window opens, if you have the right tools, you can view the caster back through the same portal.” You nod slowly at his explanation, still mystified at how he could possibly know this.

“Well, that’s some good news at least. Is there anything we can do to help?” Kakyoin asks as he sits up straight in his seat again.

“No, for now it’s just research to be done.” Avdol looks away from the screen to the pack. “Once I figure out what counter spells to use, I’ll need to collect some specialized tools from my shop.”

“Your shop? What’s that?” Today is raising more and more questions about the pack you’ve found yourself affiliating with.

“Forgive me, I forget you haven’t been with us that long to know. My family owns a curiosities shop, mostly catering to other sorcerers and people interested in the occult. You see, I’m half wolf on my father’s side. My mother is a sorceress, though she claims her only real talent is fortune telling.” Well, that would be one minor mystery solved about why Avdol knows so much about these things, but opens up even more intrigue to his past.

Jotaro nods and relaxes back into his seat, “Avdol, you make a list of what you’ll need from the shop. If its possible you should head over tomorrow with gramps, let your parents know it may be best to get out of town for a while.” Avdol nods at the order from his alpha and goes back to his research. The rest of you slowly relax back to your previous positions, Polnareff joining you all in the living room.

Its hard to tell how much time passes after that but it must be hours later when Joseph stands up and stretches, his joints cracking in protest. He winces a bit as he straightens out his spine, “I’m going to get started on dinner. Steak and potatoes sound good to everyone?” You could feel your mouth water at the thought and nod enthusiastically. Everyone else agrees as well and Joseph grins as he makes his way to the kitchen.

You join him, no time like the present to prove yourself useful. “What can I do to help?”

Joseph blinks twice before grinning at you, “Well if you really want to help, you can peel and chop these potatoes while I get the water and pans heated up. Sound good?” he hefts the bag of potatoes to the counter and you nod again, taking the bag from him and start looking for a knife.

You don’t catch the thoughtful look Joseph gives you and the glance to the living room as you get to work on your task. The open plan of the apartment was great for aesthetics but not for privacy. If he tried to grill you about your feelings and intentions toward his grandson, Jotaro was bound to overhear. Oh well, there were bound to be more opportunities in the future. Better to ignore it for now, Jotaro was under enough pressure as it was without discussing him like he wasn’t there.

Joseph gets to work on his own tasks and is impressed by how much you’ve gotten done when he checks your progress. “Wow, you really got to work on those. Where’d you get those knife skills, you a professional chef and just didn’t tell us?” Joseph laughs at his own joke.

“Ha, no. No, I’ve just worked a lot of odd jobs over the years. A lot of them happened to be in kitchens so I picked up a few things.” You chuckle with him as you continue working, adding a slight flourish to your movements to impress.

“Yeah, I guess that would do it, huh?” Joseph scratches his beard as he looks at you again, “If you don’t mind me asking, you said you’ve been on your own for a while… Why exactly? Have a falling out with your pack or something?”

“Nothing like that. I just…” You pause your movements as you try and think of the right words to explain, “It felt like it was time, you know? Adventure, fining myself, fining a pack of my own… That wasn’t going to happen if I just stayed home. So I packed up, hit the road and just kept going.” You smile as you turn to look at him. “I’ve actually had pretty poor luck with that last goal- finding a pack. Every time I ran into a new one that was looking for a member, it just never felt right, you know?”

“Well, that’s sad to hear, but at the same time I’m glad you’re with us now. How do you feel about that by the way? I know you’re kind of stuck right now…” Joseph trails off and you give him a bright smile.

“I know I barged into your lives, but you guys have done so much for me already. And, for the first time, I really feel like…” Joseph catches your glance at the living room and faint flush of your cheeks, “like I really have a place in the pack. Like I can belong.” Your eyes light with a sudden fire and intensity that catches Joseph off guard. “And I’m going to do everything I can to prove it. That I belong here.”

The last thing you were expecting was Joseph to gently pat you on the head and ruffle your hair a bit, “I wouldn’t worry about that (Y/N). You’ve already done it.” He gives you a sincere smile before turning back to the stove to get to work on dinner. You smile and do the same, quickly finishing and cleaning up your station.

Dinner is soon served and you are all entertained with stories from Joseph’s youth growing up in New York. You catch Jotaro next to you rolling his eyes at different parts of the tale. He sees your raised eyebrow and leans in, “Last time he told this story it was five vampires, now he’s up to eight.” You take a sip of water to hide your smile behind your glass.

After dinner is done and everything put away you find yourself back in the living room. You are about to get comfortable in an armchair when a yawn catches you off guard. Glancing at the clock you decide its not an unreasonable time to go to bed. “I think I’m going to call it a night guys. Do we need to work out bedroom assignments for the night or should I just pick one?” You stretch a bit as you move to stand next to the staircase.

“Nope, they’re all fair game tonight. Tomorrow we’ll have to figure out who is rooming with who when the Zeppeli pack gets here.” Joseph replies and you nod, giving one last goodnight to everyone before heading upstairs. You decide to just go with the one you dropped your stuff in, one of the rooms with a queen bed all to yourself tonight. Making sure you weren’t trapping anyone else’s things in the room you quickly change before falling into the bed face first. The covers are barely settled over you before you drift off to sleep.

***

You hadn’t set any kind of alarm, so you are a bit disoriented with the feeling of having overslept the next morning. Or was it early afternoon already? You crack an eye open to read the time on your phone; 10:15. Not early by any means but not unreasonable after the last few days you’ve had. And nowhere near your record for sleeping in, but the rest of the pack didn’t need to know that just yet.

You go through your morning routine at an unhurried pace before descending the stairs. Polnareff is seated at the table on his laptop again, Jotaro and Kakyoin eating breakfast across from him. You greet them and make yourself some toast before sitting next to Polnareff. Taking a glance at the screen you recognize the blue logo of Facebook but the profile Polnareff is looking at makes you pause.

“Isn’t that one of the hunters?” you motion with your free hand to the screen as you take a bite of your breakfast.

“Oui. I’m doing a bit of research on them before I go check out the addresses.” Polnareff responds but his eyes never leave the screen.

You hum and nod before returning to your toast. Glancing around you realize Joseph and Avdol must still be upstairs, but you hadn’t thought them to be late risers. Kakyoin sees your survey of the room, “Mr. Joestar and Avdol have already left for his family’s shop. He said he was going to gather the necessary equipment to cast some protection spells.”

“They should be back in an hour or two, they didn’t leave that long ago.” Jotaro adds, his attention mostly on his breakfast but he makes eye contact with you as he speaks.

You nod again and watch Polnareff click through profiles and make some notes for a bit while you chew on your toast. “Is that really what you do as a PI? Facebook stalk people?”

Polnareff laughs, “Well this is just the first step. But you’d be astounded by what people volunteer sometimes. This guy,” he taps the ID card on the table, “has been surprisingly careful in what he posts. Which is a shame since he’s our best lead on whatever is going on. But since I have his address, I can put together a few things from what he does post.”

This catches Jotaro and Kakyoin’s attention and they both sit up straight in their chairs. “Since the place he claims to work for doesn’t have a website, and we know what his real job was, I was able to figure out where their equipment came from by cross checking their check-in tags from different restaurants around. It has to be one of the warehouses around the bay here.” Polnareff explains as he points to the map pulled up on his screen.

“Well, no time to lose then, lets go investigate.” Kakyoin says as he stands and collects his plate from the table to wash.

“Actually, I’d prefer to go by myself. It’s less suspicious if one person is hanging around and my methods, well… Let’s just say they aren’t 100% legal all the time.” Polnareff rubs the back of his neck and looks away for a moment before they both look to Jotaro for his decision on the matter.

Thinking for a moment, Jotaro seems to come to a decision as he closes his eyes and sighs. He opens his eyes again and focuses on Polnareff, “I’ll trust you to take care of yourself. I think you’re right though, a group of people snooping around is going to be more noticeable than just one.” You can tell by the look on Kakyoin’s face that he doesn’t agree, but he stays quiet. “The first sign of trouble you call us though, understood?”

“Of course! Although I don’t know how much trouble there could be, its not like he’s going to show up while I’m there.” Polnareff laughs and you smack your palm to your forehead, you would think he’d know better than to jinx himself like that.

Author’s Note:

No fighting this chapter- everyone needs a break now and then. Also, I’ve decided I’m going to have to give up on once a week uploads- I feel like I’m really finding my voice writing this but it also means the chapters are getting longer and longer and I don't have the time I thought I would to get one chapter a week done. From now on posts will be sporadic but know that I am working on it a little each day!

#werewolf #pack #family pack #jjba fanfic #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #stardust crusaders #jjba anime #jjba au #jotaro #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #noriaki kakyoin #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol #jotaro x reader #reader insert #au fanfiction

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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

Part 1 … Part 2

“So, How was your first day of school in America?” Lois asked as her small family all sat around the table eating dinner. It was almost painfully ordinary, traditional. A married couple and two kids eating a normal dinner and talking about their day.

All of them appreciated that one piece of normalcy in their worlds of superheroes and villains and PTSD.

Marinette snorted, almost choking on her forkful of food. After managing to somehow swallow without causing herself discomfort, she smiled at her mother figure.

“Honestly? I know Jon could fly and I could teleport to school in practically no time at all, but somehow Damian still manages to seem more impressive.”

“Right?!” Jon agreed emphatically, leaning over the table towards her and almost getting his whole plate of food smashed against his chest. “Probably because helicopters are huge and look awesome, but we’re still just us when we use our powers.”

Marinette nodded sagely at that reasoning as if it was something actually serious. Tikki, who was sitting next to her plate with a half-eaten cookie, giggled.

“That makes sense. But be careful Kaalki doesn’t hear you referring to them as ‘not impressive—‘“ Marinette was cut off before she could even finish her sentence.

“Too late, I already heard that blasphemy,” the other Kwami’s voice carried down from upstairs, making Lois and Clark’s lips twitch up in amusement. “I’m a god, dear, I have even better hearing than Kal-El,” for some reason the little horse god always referred to the boys by their kryptonian names, but they didn’t seem to mind much. “Not as impressive as a helicopter, hah! See if I let you use my fabulous powers anytime soon, Guardian or no Guardian.”

Marinette just rolled her eyes. Technically she could just command Kaalki, but that was against her morals and the horse god would never keep her from responding to an Akuma attack anyway. This was just harmless teasing.

And it was really nice in contrast to everything they were used to dealing with.

“Okay, but besides the helicopter,” Clark pressed gently after everyone’s chuckles quieted down. His face was open with genuine curiosity, and a little bit of worry that Marinette caught onto instantly. “I know Damian isn’t always the easiest person to get along with or understand. Did the rest of the day go by alright?”

Marinette actually set her fork down on her plate, her smile turning a little gentle. “Actually? Yeah. When we first spoke I thought he was a stuck-up jerk like some of my ex-friends and a bully of mine from Paris. But he’s just not good with people,” Marinette’s smile turned even softer as she gazed down at the table, at some memory nobody else could see. “It reminds me of my friend Kagami, from Paris. She acts pretty similar. Really impersonal and prickly on the outside, but once you get to know her she’s the most loyal friend you’ll have. Her mom is really strict though, and Kagami never got to interact with a lot of kids her own age, so she still has issues figuring out how to behave around others sometimes,” Marinette actually ended up laughing a little, rubbing the back of her neck. “We uh, we actually had a crush on the same person back when we first met and it sparked a pretty rough rivalry for a while. Once we got past that though, we ended up being best friends.”

Jon snickered, trading knowing glances with their parents. They had already agreed that, unless Damian or Bruce told her themselves, Marinette would have to figure out the Bat’s identities on her own.

“That sounds very familiar,” Jon stated with a little nod. “Me and Damian fought when we first met, too. Legend has it that Dad and Bruce, Damian’s dad, didn’t get along right away either.”

It was Clark’s turn to snort. “I think it’s just a Wayne thing,” the man agreed, amused. “They don’t like getting close to anyone right off the bat,” Lois kicked his leg under the table for that pun, but Clark cheerfully ignored it. “It is pretty funny that you have a similar experience with someone completely unrelated, though. Maybe we should invite her over sometime? Do you know when her school’s next break is?”

Marinette sat up straight in her chair, her smirk wide and almost blinding at the prospect of seeing one of her closest friends in person again. They video chatted and called often enough, but it wasn’t the same. “Actually! Kagami told me that she’s going to Gotham next month for a fencing competition. She’s an Olympic hopeful, you know. She has to make a good enough impression in different national and international competitions to be selected,” Marinette was almost bouncing in her seat, looking like a female version of Jon for a moment with her vibrant blue eyes shining with rare unhindered excitement and her body unable to stay still from the energy.

“I heard that Gotham was holding the World fencing finals this year,” Lois remarked, but kept eye contact with Clark for a moment as the two communicated silently in a way even telepaths couldn’t copy. Marinette recognized the hesitance in their faces, and her bouncing stopped immediately. She knew why they would be reluctant to let her go.

“I know Gotham is dangerous and I still have attacks pretty often,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, but firm in a way that the rest of their little family hadn’t heard from her much at all. It made Clark and Lois look at her, waiting for her to finish making her point patiently. “But self defense isn’t really an issue. Even without any powers, without transforming, I…” Marinette took a breath to steel herself before continuing. “I learned martial arts from Maman. And I’ve used the Miraculous so long that all the combat experience of the previous Ladybugs is mostly muscle memory by now. And Kagami is more than just a fencer, her mom’s trained her in all sorts of sword fighting her whole life. Trust me, nobody messes with Kagami and gets away with it easily,” Marinette actually looked down at her hands, watching as she essentially had a thumb war with herself to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I don’t think physical attacks are what we’re worried about,” Lois admitted slowly, frowning. “I mean, yes, it’s a concern. But if I remember the dates for the competition correctly, I’ll be out of town for my first long distance job since you came to live with us. Clark will be at work during the day on the weekend, though maybe he can get a day or two off,” Lois gently worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a second. “I suppose, if Jon wants to go with you, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem if something happens…”

Oh. They weren’t worried about people attacking her. They were worried about her own mind. Which, after the last few months? Was perfectly fair.

“I don’t mind if—“

But, as life usually ended up, they were interrupted from their peace. Everyone jolted in their seats as the door was unceremoniously kicked down, and a man in his early twenties walked in carrying a mountain of boxes in his arms. Marinette blinked, no longer on guard since the rest of her new family immediately relaxed. But still, she was confused. Nobody said anything about having a visitor today.

“I know, I know. I haven’t been in touch for way too long, give us a little forewarning, blah blah blah. I brought presents this time though,” the man said, cheerful and casual and blasé. With the boxes on the center of the dining table, Marinette could finally get a good look at him.

He was probably about twenty four or twenty five, if Marinette’s ever-sharp eyes were correct (they hardly ever weren’t), and his hair was spiked up with a bit of gel, but not too much. Just enough to give it kind of a tousled-rebel look, and it was cropped close to his head on the sides. He had on a black leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and slightly down the arms, with slightly baggy black jeans and a plain, worn red shirt. Dark black sunglasses rested on the top of his head, even though the sun had been down for a while.

He did not meet the usual Kent aesthetic of a charming, traditional nuclear family. He was more of an… oddly joyful punk. It actually gave her slight Luka and Jagged vibes, and made her relax a bit into her chair. Contrary to what most might think, Marinette had a bit of a soft spot for the punk rocker look. Most people, that she had met at least, who wore it on a regular basis were amazing people with great senses of humor and large personalities.

“Old man, I got you socks,” he called out with a lazy smirk, chucking the first small box over at Clark. The man caught it with a fond eye roll.

“You always get me socks.”

“Maybe if you stopped being boring, I’d get you something better,” the stranger mocked with good humor. “Lois, jewelry that you’ll never wear,” he handed the box over to the woman with significantly more care, before sliding over one of the bigger boxes to her as well. “And a new camera that you will actually use.”

“Hey, Wait a second, you know you don’t have to—“

“And for the squirt,” the man interrupted without letting Lois finish saying that there was no need to spend so much money. He tossed the last big boxes over to Jon one at a time carelessly, smirking the whole time that Jon playfully scrambled for them. “Video games, geeky shirts, and inside jokes,” he stated happily.

With the table now clear of boxes, he finally noticed the extra body. He blinked, making silent eye contact with Marinette for a tense moment.

“Okay, she’s too old to be a secret child. Did someone make another clone? Did Jon get a girlfriend that looks freakishly like a long lost Asian family member? What did I miss?” He asked, never taking his eyes off Marinette. Clark grimaced.

“If you didn’t break your phone so often, maybe we would have been able to tell you sooner,” the man said slowly, cautiously, with his eyes never straying from the stranger. “This is Marinette. Marinette, this is Connor. He’s… Jon’s brother,” the pause there was a bit odd, and Marinette frowned at the look on Clark’s face. It was like he didn’t know what to say at all, or how to say it. “Marinette is living with us for the foreseeable future. If we get the chance we might officially adopt her, so she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Woah woah woah, what?” Marinette’s voice came out a lot squeakier than intended, the girl thoroughly whiplashed by this situation. It was hard to think straight. “I— we never talked about adoption.” Clark’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, not in as many words,” he conceded slowly. “It would be incredibly hard, and we wanted to give you time to settle in before asking. But… well, you’re officially an American citizen and we all feel like you’re family already. So…”

“You wouldn’t have to change your name,” Lois was quick to interject, watching Marinette’s face worriedly. “And you can say no. You’re already a Kent. We would just like to make it official legally, if and when you’re ready.”

“Okay, stop making the poor girl freak out,” Connor interrupted, eyes also on Marinette and gentle in their concern. He gave her a lopsided smile. “Ignore them. Clark never had great timing that wasn’t related to legitimate danger. So, sorry I didn’t get you anything,” he leaned back casually, thumbs hooked on his jacket pockets lazily. “Didn’t expect I’d have a new sister when I came back to visit.”

Marinette calmed down a little, but emotions still overflowed in her head, her chest still tight and the air feeling too thin. She offered Connor a shaky smile before standing up, looking over to Clark and Lois. “Um, I— can I— I’m tired.”

Clark sighed, nodding even as his face fell at Marinette’s state. “Yeah. We’ll talk about the competition some more in the morning, get some rest.”

The girl only nodded before making a hasty retreat up to her room, even forgetting to take care of her only half-empty plate. Tikki did her best to calm her bolder down from her place hidden in the girl’s hair, but it wasn’t doing much good. She just needed space, and time to try and process everything.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Aren’t you cold?” Connor’s voice made Marinette jolt, looking over at him with wide eyes. Nobody had ever followed her on her post-nightmare trips before. She wasn’t even transformed. She just sat, in her pajamas, on the empty terrace of her old home. It hadn’t been sold yet so she wasn’t worried about scaring anybody.

“I… should have expected you to be the other Superboy, honestly,” Marinette deflected with a weak smile before turning to look over the city again. She licked her lips, trying to calm herself down. “And yeah, I’m a little cold, but it’s no big deal. I’ll just go back home before it gets too bad.”

“You’re trembling,” he pointed out casually. And she was, her whole body was practically vibrating against the terrace railing. Marinette only gave out a pitiful laugh.

“That’s not from the cold.”

Connor only sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall behind them. Gave the girl a little space.

“What did… What did Clark and Lois tell you? About me?” Marinette decided to ask tentatively. Connor raised one brow, honestly a little surprised that she didn’t also have super hearing to go with her powers. It was slowly becoming more and more obvious that Marinette was not exactly like the other Kents, and Connor only liked the jumpy little girl more for it.

“As much as they could without feeling like they were crossing a line,” Connor admitted. “That they took you in after an accident during a metropolis attack a few months ago, when you had nobody else reliable enough to take care of you. That you’re not Kryptonian, but still special and knew about all of our identities already. But strangely enough they didn’t mention teleportation or the fact that you were a Parisian superhero, not that I’m really all that surprised.”

Marinette smiled, snickering a bit at that last part before sobering again. “Is it… weird?”

Connor silently examined the girl for a moment, she probably expected him to ask what she meant. And maybe if he was anybody else, he would have.

“To suddenly come home to a new person that I’m suddenly supposed to accept as a part of the family? Not really. In fact, you’re probably the most normal surprise I’ve dealt with in years.”

“But,” Marinette looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes swimming with uncertainty. “But I just show up out of nowhere, and you really just accept me? Just like that? I mean, you’ve known me less than a day and you just saw me teleport to Paris in the middle of the night— you aren’t worried at all? Or suspicious, or— you really just accept me just like that?”

Connor couldn’t help but chuckle, pushing himself off the wall to lean over the terrace railing with her. “You know, technically I’m only eight years old.”

Marinette flinched with surprise at the subject change, eyes wide. “Huh?”

Connor laughed at her confusion, rustling her hair a bit. “I’m a clone. I was made with Superman’s DNA, and that of another asshole we won’t mention. Don’t tell Lois I swore. Anyway, I was ‘born’ as a teenager,” he used finger quotations to show that he wasn’t exactly born normally. “With all the mental development and knowledge of a sixteen year old. Pretty much, anyway, but I was still a newborn,” he shrugged. “Clark wasn’t exactly thrilled. Jon was eight at the time, which is why Clark can never decide if I’m the older or younger brother, and he wasn’t exactly planning on another kid back then. Not to mention the whole ‘created in order to kill Superman if he ever went bad,’ and ‘might be a spy because I was made by his arch nemesis’ thing,” Connor waved his hand as if this blasé info dump didn’t actually matter. Marinette just gaped at him, which made it hard for the guy not to smirk. “Point is, Clark was suspicious. Didn’t exactly want anything to do with me. Can’t say I completely forgive him, but it’s mostly water under the bridge nowadays. Especially when we found out that I did have trigger words, and I was unknowingly dangerous. Don’t worry, those trigger words were erased ages ago. Anyway, Clark eventually got his act together. Gave me the Kryptonian name Kon-el, had me live with him for a little bit. We worked it all out,” Connor turned back to Marinette, taking his sunglasses off so he could look her in the eye properly. “I really don’t think a Ladybug is exactly threatening in comparison.”

Marinette was silent for a moment.

“You know I could throw you off this balcony, right?”

“Eh, I can fly.”

Another moment passed before Marinette couldn’t help it, and started giggling. Those giggles turned to laughs, which quickly turned into joyful bellows. Connor joined in, smiling as he laughed alongside her.

“But… you like it with them, right?” Connor suddenly asked, looking over at her. “I know Jon can be a bit overexcitable, and Clark is an annoying boy scout.”

Marinette just shrugged. “Well, it’s not too bad,” she said softly. “I mean, at least neither of them can die by getting crushed by falling debris. So that’s an improvement at least.” Marinette instantly went pale at her own words, slapping a hand over her mouth. Connor snorted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s the exhaustion talking. C’mon, let’s get you back in bed before Clark accuses me of corrupting you.”

Marinette just nodded, doing the world’s quietest transformation before opening a portal back to her room. She was already detransformed, Connor having one hand on her doorknob, when she spoke up again.

“Uh, Kon?” She fidgeted, not able to look up at him. “Thanks.”

The man just smirked, shrugging his leather-clad shoulders. “That’s what family’s for, right?”

Marinette smiled, huffing out a tired laugh. “By the way? I’m glad at least one of you Supers has a sense of fashion.”

“We heard that!”

Connor and Marinette broke back out into guffaws, and the girl couldn’t help but think that she was really grateful for her new family. Maybe she wouldn’t call Clark dad or Lois mom anytime soon, those wounds were still too raw, but maybe eventually. And she’d never had brothers before.

Yeah. This was nice.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 4

I don’t think this ended up as good as the others..? But this is the best way I could write this part. Why is this story turning out longer than expected? Geez I need to learn self control. At least this one was actually kinda fluffy.

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @bigpicklebananatree @thezestywalru @bugaboosandbees @ironspiderstark @mikantsume @marinettepotterandplagg

#ml x dc #maribat #mlb x dc #platonic jonette #pre daminette #platonic connette #marinette joins the kent family #marinette kent #jon kent and marinette #connor kent and marinette

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing Wrong

Prompt: Writing prompt for Merlin (preferably time passes?): Modern Day everyone try to explain to Arthur how life works now and Arthur trying to get Merlin to therapy because JESUS DUDE and coming up with a somewhat workable alibi for what can essentially be called immortality angst. Hope you're having a lovely day!!

Thanks for the prompt, babe! This is part of a series over on my Ao3 but it can be read as a standalone

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2217

So it turns out that Merlin, to no one's surprise but his, could benefit from seeing a therapist.

“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Emrys,” Dr. Lerchen says as Merlin sits down in the plush chair, “it’s good to meet you.”

“You as well, Dr. Lerchen.”

“Please, Melanie is fine.” Dr. Le—Melanie smiles and fixes her glasses. “I understand that you’ve never been to a therapist before?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you. May I ask what you’ve heard about therapy?”

“That it’s something I should definitely do.”

“Well, I make no judgments about that, but what else?”

Merlin hesitates. He’s never had someone who’s…paid to listen to him. Whose job it is to help him sort through the mess in his brain. It feels…counterintuitive.

Melanie nods when he says as much. “You’re not the first person who feels a little awkward asking a therapist for help. Nor are you the first to think you don’t actually need it.”

Merlin blinks. “I didn’t say that.”

“No—“ Melanie gives him a look— “but am I right?”

He fidgets in the chair.

“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” she says after a moment, “but I want to reassure you that you don’t need to have a reason to see a therapist.”

“I don’t?”

She shrugs. “Some people see me because they’re having issues at work that they’re struggling to manage. Some people see me because they’ve got mental issues they need help with. And some people see me because they’ve never actually had someone to talk to.”

“…really?”

Melanie smiles. “Yes, Mr. Emrys. You don’t have to need therapy to have therapy.”

A weight begins to lift off his shoulders. Judging by Melanie’s smile, she can see it. She sits back in her chair too and tilts her head.

“Is that all this is,” Merlin murmurs, mostly to himself, “is this…therapy?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s as easy to tell from the two minutes you’ve been here,” she laughs, “but…yes. I ask questions, and if you like, you answer them. Or we simply talk. About…whatever you’d like.”

“Whatever I like?”

“Believe me, I’ve spent sessions discussing nothing but movies and favorite colors.”

“With children?”

“With adults.” She gestures between them. “I’m here to provide the support you need to work through things. Does that sound alright?”

“…yes,” Merlin breathes, “that sounds…that sounds great.”

“Wonderful. May I ask you a few questions about why you’re here today?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I write them down?”

Merlin shakes his head and she retrieves a notepad.

“In your request for an appointment, you mentioned that you’d been referred to me by a friend of yours?”

“Yes, um, Leon Camlynn.”

“Ah, yes, I see.” She makes a note. “Had you been discussing therapy with him prior to the referral?”

“You should try it, Merlin,” Leon says encouragingly as Arthur sits down on the couch, “it’s just talking.”

“I’ve had experience with therapy before, Leon.”

“Not like this,” Leon promises, his eyes shining with the understanding of what type of ‘therapy’ Merlin’s been put through, “I promise.”

Merlin sighs. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine, Leon, I—“

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts softly, “I think you should try it. Just once, at least.”

He doesn’t blink at Merlin’s look of betrayal.

“Leon says it helps him, and maybe it’ll help you too.”

“There is so much between us already,” Leon says softly, drawing Merlin’s attention again, “so much history—“

“So why would I want to talk to someone that I’d have to explain things to?”

“—that you might not be able to talk about it with us,” Leon finishes, “and you’d only have to explain as much as you were comfortable with.”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t believe you. There’s—I—I can’t—my—hmm.”

“You don’t have to explain everything all the time, Merlin,” Leon says, “and you definitely won’t have to during the first session.”

“I agree,” Melanie says, patiently writing things down, “I’m not here to pressure you into telling me things you’re not comfortable with, nor am I going to tell you what to do.”

“He said that I should get used to talking to someone.” Merlin toys with the end of his shirt. “Someone that wasn’t…him.”

Melanie nods. “How long has it been? Since you spoke to someone other than Leon?”

1500 years. “…a while.”

“And is Leon your closest friend? Do you have anyone else?”

“I know people at work, I talk to them, they drag me out for pub nights. But Leon’s my only…friend-friend, really.”

“I see.” She looks back at the appointment record. “It says here you’re also considering whether or not you have some sort of PTSD?”

Damnit, Leon.

“…yes.”

“You needn’t tell me anything you feel uncomfortable telling me,” Melanie reminds, “but whatever you do tell me will be useful in how I can help you.”

Merlin can’t help glancing at the door.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” comes the quiet reassurance, “nothing you say will leave this room.”

He takes a deep, slow breath. He hasn’t talked about this to anyone. Not even Arthur. Not really. There are so many secrets that no one knows that he doesn’t know how to tell one without telling all of them.

“Pick something small,” Melanie suggests when he says as much, “something innocuous. A memory, perhaps, one that makes you happy.”

“Come on, Merlin, this way!”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur drags him through the woods. “Whatever creature you’re hunting is going to hear us coming from yards away, as you’re so fond of telling me.”

“We’re not hunting Merlin, now come on!”

“Then why are we out in the middle of the woods for no reason? And why am I carrying all this food?”

Arthur bursts through the edge of the woods into a clearing, spinning around with a blinding smile. “We’re having a picnic.”

Merlin blanches. “A what?”

“A picnic, Merlin,” Arthur repeats, taking the basket from him, “we’re going to sit down and eat.”

And they did, in the field, as butterflies flew around their heads.

“That sounds lovely,” Melanie says, smiling, “and how long ago was this?”

Merlin’s smile dims. “A long time.”

“Was it near where you grew up?”

“No, no, it was…quite far away. I, um, I grew up in a smaller village and went away to a big city to work.”

“Was it hard, being away from your family for such a long period of time?”

He misses his mother’s smile.

He misses the smell of the barn when he walks outside—not the big, Camelot stables, but their little barn with the cinnamon and cloves stuffed into the corners to keep the old donkey happy.

He misses Will, the shouts and yells of the other boys as they rush up and down the streets.

He misses the old man’s warbling in the late night as he walked back and forth with the lantern, putting out the lights on his market stall.

“I’d never been farther than walking distance away from my home,” he says quietly, examining his hands, “so it was…hard to adjust.”

“I’m sure. Did you go back to visit them ever?”

“The winters are harsh in Ealdor,” his mother says, pleading in front of the tightly Uther Pendragon, “and there are many children. Some of them just won't be strong enough to survive. We barely have enough food as it is, and if Kanen takes our harvest, our children won't live to see another summer. Please, we need your help.”

“Ealdor's in Cenred's kingdom,” Uther says dismissively, “your safety is his responsibility.”

“We've appealed to our King, but he cares little for the outlying regions. You're our only hope.”

Uther regards his mother with what can only be described as forced pity. “I have the deepest sympathy for you and would have this barbarian wiped off the face of the earth.”

“You'll help us?”

“I wish I could.”

Perhaps sensing Merlin’s dismay, Arthur speaks up. “Surely we can spare a few men?”

“…once.”

Melanie tilts her head. “You sound sad.”

“…my friend died when I went back,” Merlin says, “he…I’d known him since I was a little boy. He was…important to me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she does sound genuinely sorry, Merlin realizes, as she leans forward. “What was his name?”

“Will.”

“Will,” she repeats, “I’m sorry he passed.”

Merlin shrugs. Out of all the people he’s lost, he can’t afford to hurt over all of them all the time.

“What did you do afterward?”

“I went back to work.”

Melanie blinks. “Just like that? No time off, no time to grieve?”

“…where I come from, that wasn’t really a thing.”

“…I see.”

Merlin shifts. “Is something wrong?”

“People need time to process things,” she says, “to reconcile what’s happened in order to learn how to live with it. And if you weren’t given that time…”

“It wasn’t the most pressing thing on my mind.”

That gives her pause. She raises an eyebrow and nods for him to continue. Merlin fidgets a little in the chair.

“…I have a secret,” he says finally, “one that Will died to protect for me.”

She makes a soft noise.

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” Merlin continues, staring at a spot on the carpet, “it—they would’ve—“

He breaks off. He hasn’t thought about his magic like this for centuries. He hasn’t thought about his magic for decades. He hasn’t actually looked at himself for…a long time.

He’s been hiding for almost as long as he can remember.

“What would they have done,” Melanie prompts softly.

“Killed me.” Merlin looks up. “They would’ve killed me.”

To her credit, Melanie doesn’t look shocked. Instead, she smiles softly.

“No one will kill you for a secret, Mr. Emrys, not on my watch.”

That shouldn’t make him feel as warm as it does, but he finds his own mouth turning up into a smile.

“Does your family know your secret?”

“My mother did. My father…yes, he knew.”

“Does Leon know?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

Merlin hesitates. “Yes. Yes, someone else knows. Even though I…I didn’t…I didn’t tell him when I should have.”

“You’re the only one who gets to make that decision,” Melanie reassures, “no one else.”

“But he felt so betrayed when I didn’t tell him. He was…he was angry with me.”

“You’ve lied to me. You’ve lied all this time.”

Merlin can’t quite hear his heart crack in two, but he can feel it.

“Why did you decide to tell him?”

Merlin shrugs. “He was going to get hurt if I didn’t show—if I didn’t tell him.”

“Hurt?”

“He…”

Ygraine, his mother, gone on the day of his birth because of magic.

Uther, turned bitter and cynical, making enemies upon enemies of magic while hoarding it for his own selfish purposes.

Morgana, his own sister, twisted and tortured by Uther, by Arthur, by Merlin, until she was barely recognizable.

Arthur had lost so much to magic that Merlin can’t bear to give him something else to lose.

“…he’s already been hurt by it,” Merlin says, shutting his eyes, “I didn’t want to hurt him too.”

“What happened to him?”

“He—“

Mordred steps out from behind a rock and walks toward Arthur, he raises his sword...

Arthur either hears him or sees his reflection in a sword on the ground. He stands and blocks the attack, he goes to stab and stops, realizing it's Mordred. Mordred stabs him and withdraws the sword, fatally wounding him.

Arthur goes to a knee.

Merlin can’t find the breath to scream.

“Merlin. There is nothing you can do.”

“I’ve failed?

“No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building, has come to pass.”

“I can't lose him! He's my friend!”

“Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin...Arthur is not just a King-he is the Once and Future King.”

Once and Forever.

“Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”

Merlin. Merlin is all that’s left.

“It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock-the story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men.”

1500 years…

“Merlin? Merlin!”

He’s back.

“…he went away. For a very long time.”

“And now?”

Despite everything, Merlin finds himself smiling. “He’s my flatmate.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Melanie says softly, smiling too, “you two deserve your soft epilogue.”

Wait, what?

“I’m afraid that’s all we have the time for today, Mr. Emrys,” Melanie says, standing and holding out her hand for him to shake, “but I’d be happy to set up another appointment.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Merlin says, scrambling to his feet and shaking her hand, “and please, Merlin’s fine.”

“Merlin.” Her handshake is firm, grounding. “Be in touch.”

“I will.”

“And one last thing,” she calls as he goes to leave, “there is nothing wrong with being gay, Merlin.”

Wait, what?

#Merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

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indianamoonshine · 4 years ago

Text

siberu | reader x din djarin

summary: reader is not human, but a force-senstive humanoid, who is searching for a legendary sickle in the caverns of an arctic planet named siberus. she stumbles across a lonely, very lost, and very cold din djarin in the snow. they discuss the strange little creature in din’s bag.

mentions: cursing. mention of the youngling situation during order 66. gender is a construct. reader is absolutely fawning over how cute grogu is.

note: just two people repressing obvious feelings. this was a request so i hope @tolkienblackgirl approves! i’m sorry it was literally months before i got to it. it’s not a super happy ending and a little angsty which is very unlike me. i really wish i could’ve done more with this, but i have three other fics on my hands at the moment so i had to make it a one-shot.

rating: m just in case.

it was way too fucking cold here.

you didn’t care for siberus just by the briefing alone, but when your ship lands upon the frozen terrain, you teeth immediately clench. snow falls around you in flurries, the wind spiraling them into a weak tornado at your booted feet as soon as your ramp tumbles noisily upon the ground. the air was heavy with frost and it showed each time you drew breath, the vapor chilling immediately in the polar atmosphere.

you tug your shawl tighter around you - a piece of fabric that you realized very quickly wouldn’t do much against the bite of the tundra. you thought you were ready for the weather - thought you were prepared for the manner of dress required for siberus, but the reputation of the ice world had proceeded even the nastiest of rumors. no one dared tread upon siberus ground - not in years, anyway.

but that wasn’t just because of its climate.

siberus was one of the planets utterly destroyed by “the great purge”. a distressing lack of life forms shown on your radar as you scan the horizon, save for the exceptionally evolved animals that could withstand the tundra. as soon as you landed, they’d immediately scattered across the snow and fled to their holes in the ground. you didn’t blame them; for as long as they’d been isolated, the idea of an intruder must’ve been beyond terrifying.

the council told you it was here. somewhere, in these thousands of kilometers of snow and ice, is the last jedi sickle.

a powerful weapon...but you argued that it was hardly warranted a visit to hoth’s much crueler and unforgiving sibling. hells, the empire hadn’t even dared visit. maybe they might have had they known the sickle was secured in carbonite. maybe they’d gone out of their way if that piece of information managed to trickle through their grapevine, but even then, was it worth their time? you weren’t even convinced it was.

it was described as “the poor man’s dark saber”. while the sickle was nearly impossible to destroy, it wouldn’t peel through anything like the dark saber could. no. the dark saber was somewhat of a mythical thing. the sickle, however, felt more convincing.

and for whatever reason, they had entrusted you to retrieve it.

they were the council of augusten, your home planet, blackened by night at all times. a symbiotic relationship with a bio-luminescent plant was, essentially, your sun - your star. this resulted in a tolerable, but irritating, daytime blindness of its natives peoples and creatures. and while siberus wasn’t exactly bright this time of day (especially with such a raging storm concealing your view), it was enough to make the vessels thrum tensely behind your eyes.

you’re one of the last! they said triumphantly, as though to sweeten you up. a survivor of the order! it is your duty!

bullshit.

it wasn’t such a strange idea that the council wanted the sickle. it wasn’t, by any means, quite like the mandalore legend of the dark saber. but it wasn’t just the power wielding the weapon itself brought - it was the kyber crystal within it.

it could power thousands of machines and harness energy for millions of resources. honestly, you hadn’t even considered the worthiness of kyber crystals for anything other than constructing lightsabers, but it made sense. enough sense that you felt obligated to fetch it from this frozen wasteland.

you talked a big talk about being able to find it. hells! you almost convinced yourself it’d be a piece of cake by the way you spoke with such confidence and bullshit conviction at the briefing. but looking out upon the snow-laden horizon - mountains and all - you suddenly weren’t so sure of yourself.

pride, as always, comes before the fall. as usual.

you even considered going back. there wasn’t a handbook for finding ancient, priceless, jedi artifacts. there wasn’t a tracking beacon for it either and your abilities could only do so much. you prayed to the force that, if anything, your connection as a jedi might be enough to conjure it from hiding. and, of course, that proved fruitless within the first half-hour.

you’re about to collapse. it wasn’t the night that shrouded you that almost did it; the darkness was your home - your element. you vision (very literally) fared much better in the blackness. the cold, on the other hand, was licking at your bones and causing you to tremble beneath your own weight.

it’s when you’re on the verge of making camp that you spot a figure upon the horizon.

not just any figure.

a person.

there’s a surge of motivation to keep moving. (strange, how that works...) whoever it is isn’t very far away - not even four kilometers. and if they’re searching for transportation it clearly isn’t in reach. they move at a slow pace, forcing themselves to walk against the bite of siberus’s gale.

when you’re in reach of this mysterious being, you yell out in haste. “hey! you!”

the figure stops their fight with the current of snow. they’re knee-deep in the tundra - you’re waist deep, really. and when you squint through the particles of snow, blinking rapidly to melt it away, you notice the shine of...

beskar.

“a mandalorian?!” you shout.

you shuffle closer as they remain still as stone. if they truly were a mandalorian, they’d certainly be on their guard - certainly moving for a blaster at their hip. you’re able to see their helmet’s face pierced upon yours as you step closer. how they managed to hear you, you couldn’t be sure, but it was a welcome surprise all the same.

you wrap your shawl closer around you, protecting your cheeks against the sting of cold. you observe the mandalorian (or what you expected to be the mandalorian) in their steely armor as they consider you for what felt like minutes. (too long in this damn climate.) siberus’s two moons allow the beskar to glint when the shoulder pauldrons move just right, a beam of light reflecting into your sensitive eyes. you hiss as a result.

“what is it you want?” the mandalorian demands, body now angling towards you. they’ve obviously come to the conclusion you’re of no immediate danger.

you narrow your eyes as the wind picks up, flakes of snow blurring this person until they’re just a speck against a backdrop. you don’t even consider your next words - you’ve always been too trusting. but something in this mandalorian’s spirit told you that they were harmless. in fact, they could prove valuable to this mission.

anything to get you off this frozen rock as quickly as possible.

“come to my ship! it’s warm!” you toss your head in the direction of where you came.

the mandalorian is taken aback. they recoil, physically, on the balls of their feet. who in their right kriffin’ mind would invite a mandalorian to stay in the privacy of their own ship? especially on such a deserted planet?

still, the mandalorian shouts over the wind. “why should i trust you?!”

there’s really nothing to do but shrug. “because we’re both about to freeze to death!” you point to their beskar that is, while impenetrable, starting to collect icicles. no, nothing could break beskar, but the mandalorian inside it could freeze.

this is enough to convince the mandalorian.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you’ve made two cups of java by the time the mandalorian finally un-clenches his fists.

it’s a him. he told you by the way he moved - how his shoulders barely fit through the limited width of your ship’s entrance or how his voice rung beneath his helmet. still, gender didn’t really fit in your culture. gender wasn’t worthy enough to be considered important so you were hesitant of calling them either or.

it was when you kept dancing around the pronouns that he finally uttered, “i’m a male.”

you raise a brow, pouring the steaming java into a ceramic mug that had chips and stains on the sides of it. (the handle on yours broke after an upsetting landing from last mission. handles were hard to come by in this galaxy. a luxury, even.)

“oh?” you ask.

the mandalorian grunts, barely slipping his helmet past his lips to drink. you knew all about their creed so it came as no surprise when he immediately pulled it back down his chin.

“i know you’re augustenian. i’m aware of how your people feel about identity.” he pauses, lifting his head to watch your reaction. “male is fine. he is fine.”

it was kind - not blunt - the way this came from his lips. you allow a gentle smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “you knew from the markings, right?” you ask, motioning to the upside down crescent upon your forehead; it glowed a faint green in the darkness.

he nods a little. it’s hard to speak to someone when you’re unable to look into their eyes. you depended on the expressions of beings and it felt impersonal to speak to him now because of it. still, you weren’t one to question creed or faith.

“it’s hard to miss,” he replies, bringing his cup to the side of his body, and shifting between his cloak.

you raise a brow. “what are you doing?”

the mandalorian stills, aware that it may look strange if not explained. “i, uh...” he takes a deep breath and pulls a woven strap from his shoulder; a large, lumpy thing, that moves when he situates it. it even makes a coo’ing noise.

“did you manage to catch some wildlife?” you ask, amazed. you tilt your head, reaching a hand out to pull back the flap of the bag.

but the mandalorian grabs your hand in a brisk movement, clenching hard around your wrist. “don’t. he’s...” he sighs. “he’s a little jumpy.”

you furrow your brows. he knew the mannerism of this creature personally? it must’ve been a traveling companion you’d failed to notice. you pull away and nod, waiting for him to reveal whatever this thing was.

when a pair of long, green, and fuzzy ears pop out from beneath the bag’s opening, you shriek in delight. the little creature stares back at you, large black eyes rounded in the moonlight, and a curious smile beaming upon his kind face when he understands you are of no danger.

“what a precious little thing!” you coo. you reach out for him, fingers twiddling in anticipation. “may i?”

the mandalorian fixates his stare more heavily upon you. with a protective gruff he says, “if you try anything with him...”

you shake your head, bouncing a little restlessly in your seat. “i wouldn’t ever hurt a child.”

for some reason he seems to believe you but still hands you the baby with caution. when the creature’s little hands wrap themselves around you, a jolt of bliss surges through your body. you’ve always adored children and this really was a youngling.

but...he was more than that.

your smile fades slowly from your mien as you stare into his eyes, watching something unfold that the mandalorian before you can’t see. he’s sensitive like you. force sensitive. you can feel the way that the energy beats around him - like a dance - but weakening with every moment.

and then there’s an image.

an image you wished you’d never see.

younglings sprawled upon the jedi temple floor, their bodies mangled and bloodied from vicious crime. you find yourself turning away from his penetrating stare, brows furrowed in pain, when a collective scream of terror ricochets from a place very far in the past.

you weren’t there to see it in person. just in stories. as a survivor, the guilt haunted you at night. this was certainly...overwhelming.

“where did you find this child?” you find yourself asking, words barely audible through chapped lips. you didn’t even realize you were saying it until after it was done.

the mandalorian is quick to reply. “there was a bounty on his life. the empire - well, whoever they are now - wanted him.”

you find yourself gripping the child to your chest in possessiveness. “no. you can’t,” you gasp. “they’ll kill him.”

the mandalorian raises a hand to you in a show of sympathy. “i know. i didn’t give him to them.” he pauses, watching as you cradle the child in your arms and petting his long ears with tears in your eyes. “are you...”

you raise your head to watch him, anxious as to your next move. but you sputter out the truth like it was poison - like you couldn’t hold it in anymore. “a jedi,” you confirm. “yes. or...i was.”

the mandalorian is taken aback but the news registers him into silence. he observes the way you press the little one to your cheek and give him a small kiss near his eye. he smiles - albiet, sadly - beneath his helmet when the kid nuzzles against you in a show of affection, little claws wrapping themselves around your forefinger as though his life depended on it.

”i...” he hesitates, and then sighs. ��i was quested to bring him back to his own kind. your kind.”

you’re aware of what he wants...what he’s trying to say.

“no.” you answer. “i can’t train him. i won’t.”

the mandalorian goes silent. through clenched teeth he asks, “why not?”

you look into the child’s face. he hasn’t spoken to you - not in the way jedi are able - but he’s given you an insight to his relationship with this man. and his fear was palpable - thick.

he was closing himself off. he was unstable.

you rub the child’s ears once more, finger and thumb warming the skin. “he’s cut himself off from the force. i don’t have the influence on him that is necessary to change his heart.” you sigh, placing the child in the mando’s arms. “i’m sorry.”

the mandalorian looks down at the child in his embrace as he snuggles against his chilled beskar without protest. “what can i do?”

you sigh, rubbing circles into your temple. what could he do? you had barely passed the trials by the time order 66 was executed. and most jedi were killed during the great purge. you were one of the very last - one of those the empire had not successfully tracked down.

but you were no master.

“there is a jedi...” you whisper. you wring your hands together in apprehension. “i’ve never met her. she’s called ahsoka tano. there are rumors she lives.”

the mandalorian is quick to respond. “how do i find her?”

“i don’t know,” you tell him truthfully. “her survival isn’t confirmed.”

the mandalorian grumbles under his breath. “dank farrik.” he sets the child back into his sling and tucks him to his side again.

you watch as the two of them stare at one another, both desperate for answers you weren’t able to give them. they seem to have endured a long journey - long enough that they’ve formed a bond you’ve never seen between a mandalorian and another living creature.

you sigh. “i’m sorry i can’t do more,” you tell him. “but at least stay and rest. you look as though you need it.”

he watches you between the slits of his visor and it’s unsettling that you don’t know the color of his eyes. that feels important to know about a person. he wasn’t a machine - he was a man - and he should be regarded as such.

it takes a moment for him to process the invitation. surely he didn’t get very many of those. while that wasn’t surprising it was still very upsetting; more upsetting than you’d expected, anyway.

you offer him your bed but he denies and tells you he’ll sleep on the floor. if you’d like to share with the child i’d be more than grateful, he tells you. you knew it was an honor to be trusted with this child’s life, so you accept.

in the morning, the storm has passed, and the child still lay in your arms after a night of peaceful sleep. you feel the mandalorian - whose name you never got - strategically remove the child from your limbs.

and just when he’s about to leave - he hesitates. you can hear his footfalls stop short of the exit as you pretend to still sleep for whatever reason. maybe you were afraid to look upon him again - that you’d find yourself slipping into a feeling you weren’t allowed to humor.

so you remain still.

you remain still even as the mandalorian wipes a strand of hair from your eyes, takes a deep breath, and allows the child to snuggle his nose against yours. he coos just slightly - a little goodbye - and it causes your stomach to drop to your knees.

you consider waking; to tell them you’d help find ahsoka, to say fuck it to whatever jedi order didn’t exist anymore and entertain whatever butterflies had tickled your insides when the mandalorian’s caress embraced your skin.

but when you open your eyes, they’ve gone.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

NOTE: i’m so sorry this wasn’t what i originally envisioned but i still like it! also, i’d like to go ahead and say - in case i didn’t make it clear enough - that mando asked for the child to sleep with reader because it would’ve been super uncomfortable for him to sleep on the floor.

#request #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #i'm disapointed in this but also not surprised #SORRY #IN #ADVANCE #mw1

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lilyvandersteen · 3 years ago

Text

The Christmas Guest: Epilogue

Author’s Note: This is the promised epilogue, short but sweet. Thank you so much for following along as I was posting this multichapter and leaving me comments and likes - your support means the world to me!

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, the Interlude, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Epilogue

“So this is the famous Kurt, huh?” Cooper boomed, walking towards Kurt with a blinding smile and open arms. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Kurt got a big hug and kisses on both cheeks, and needed a second to recover from Cooper’s enthusiasm before he managed to say, “All good, I hope?”

“Oh, definitely. He admires you more than me, can you imagine? His own brother, and so successful! But no, it’s always Kurt this, and Kurt that. Like this…”

Cooper made heart eyes and imitated Blaine’s voice and mannerisms. “Did you hear that Kurt scored the lead in an Off Broadway play? Did you hear that he’s making a dress for Rihanna to wear at the Met Gala? Did you know Kurt will be the youngest person to ever achieve EGOT status?”

Kurt laughed. “I wish! Nothing so impressive has happened just yet, but go ahead and make up whatever grand future you picture for me, and I’ll try to make it happen.”

Cooper grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!”

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson’s faces were far less exuberant than their son’s, but they too advanced and held out a hand for Kurt to shake.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Kurt. “And may I say, your house is beautifully styled. So light and so open, and yet you get an instant homey feel.”

The praise earned him a genuine smile from Mrs. Anderson, and soon they were discussing light fixtures and throw pillows and accent walls as if they’d known each other forever.

Mr. Anderson took some more time to win over, but by the time they were eating dessert, Kurt had hit upon the right topic: cars. Apparently, Mr. Anderson loved Top Gear, and was more than happy to discuss the program with Kurt, and after that the classic car he’d restored with Blaine, taking Kurt to the garage to show it to him.

By the time Kurt and Blaine left, they had scored another dinner invitation, and Mrs. Anderson had stage-whispered to Blaine, “I really like him, honey bee!”

As they drove off, Blaine glanced at Kurt, shook his head and chuckled.

“What?”

“That was quite the charm offensive. I’m impressed.”

Kurt grinned. “I learned from the master.”

K&B

Seven Christmases after the first one they spent together, Blaine and Kurt were once again hands deep in dough as they prepared a festive brunch together. For the first time, they would be hosting the family get-together instead of Burt and Carole.

After graduating, they’d started looking for a house or an apartment they could share. Having your own place came in handy when you had a fight and needed some time to cool off, but for day-to-day living, it was very inconvenient. No matter how efficient you became at packing the essentials for a sleepover, there were always things you forgot.

As Kurt didn’t want to move into Blaine’s shoebox apartment (“I need room for my clothes, Blaine!”) and Blaine wasn’t any more interested in sharing Kurt’s loft (“I don’t want to get up at four in the morning to get to work on time!”), they searched for a place to live that they both liked. As much as they liked New York City, it was clear from the start that they would have to expand their horizons to find a place they both liked and could afford.

They ended up in New Jersey, within a reasonable commuting distance for both of their jobs.

Kurt still worked at Vogue part-time. The rest of his time was devoted to his successful line of accessories and shoes.

Blaine had worked as a music therapist at a children’s hospital at first, after graduating from NYU. Then, one of Blaine’s college buddies had suddenly soared to fame as a Broadway playwright, penning two hit musicals back to back. For the second musical, Blaine helped write the music, and when the male lead ended up in hospital after an accident, he took over the role to rave reviews. Before he knew it, he’d become a Broadway star, often playing lead with Rachel as his character’s wife or love interest.

“Rather you than me!” Kurt had said with feeling the first time Blaine announced he was going to play opposite Rachel.

Blaine nodded with a wry grin. “You’re right. She can be a bit much sometimes.”

“A bit?!”

Blaine laughed. “She’s a diva, yes. But nothing I can’t handle. And she is a loyal friend, a hard worker and always stays professional. Remember that Harmony girl who kept groping me?”

“Ew, yes. Okay, point taken. Rachel’s the lesser evil.”

Rachel had married Jesse St James and moved to New Jersey too. Both couples took turns hosting dinner on Friday night, and Kurt and Blaine were godfathers to Rachel and Jesse’s daughter Anna.

The St Berry’s would be coming for brunch, too, and Blaine had bought a mountain of presents for Anna.

Kurt rolled his eyes when Blaine arranged them all under the Christmas tree, but didn’t notice a small blue box nestled underneath, with a tag that said KURT.

Before long, their guests started to arrive. Anna squealed when she saw all the presents awaiting her, and made a beeline for the tree.

“No, no, poppet,” Jesse chuckled, sweeping her up into his arms, “wait until everyone’s here!”

Half an hour later, the living was strewn with wrapping paper, and still Anna was gleefully running to and from the tree handing people presents and tearing open her own.

And then, there was only one left, small and half hidden under a branch.

Anna spotted it, though, and brought it to her father. “For me?”

“No, poppet, this one’s for Uncle Kurt.”

Anna handed it over to Kurt with a pout.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Kurt said absently, fiddling with the One Plus Watch his parents had given him and not really looking at the present he’d been handed.

A throat clearing made him look up, and what he saw took his breath away.

Blaine had plucked the little box from Kurt’s hands, opened it and was now holding it out to him, on one knee and smiling tremulously.

“Kurt… You were my Christmas miracle seven years ago, welcoming me into your family when mine dropped the ball. I felt at home with you from the minute we met. It was as if I remembered you from another life, and always knew that we belonged together, you and me. And I’ve been wanting to ask you this for ages, but I wanted to respect your choice to wait until we were both 25 and established in our careers. You probably still don’t feel old and wise enough to make this decision, but sweetheart, just look into your heart. Can you see me there, next to you, for the rest of our lives?”

Kurt, his hand over his mouth and a tear trickling from his eye, nodded.

Blaine beamed up at Kurt. “Then I’m going to finally make this official. Kurt Hummel, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

Kurt, full-out crying now, nodded again. “Yes. Yes! Yes!”

Blaine slipped the ring on Kurt’s finger and kissed him thoroughly. Around them, there were cheers and applause, but Kurt and Blaine didn’t notice.

When they came up for air, Blaine whispered, “Best. Christmas. Ever!”

Kurt giggled. “You say that every year.”

“And every year, it’s true.”

Kurt and Blaine accepted a glass of champagne from Jesse, and toasted to their future happiness with their family and friends.

And Kurt knew Blaine was right. There was not a shadow of a doubt in his head or his heart that the two of them were going to make it.

“Merry Christmas, Blaine. Here’s to many more!”

“And each one better than the last. Merry Christmas, everyone!”

THE END

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #The Christmas Guest #epilogue #enjoy!

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blue-lions-baby · 4 years ago

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Blinded by Love (Dimitri x F!Reader) Ch. 1

(a/n) hi i'm like practically dead at this point LMAO i've got like 3 finals this week and i want to cRY

i'm sorry for my absence. i honestly didn't realize how much time has passed until it suddenly hit me that i hadn't visited tumblr in a *hot minute.*

instead of posting this colossal fic as one whole entry, i wanted to split it up into smaller chapters (~1000 words each?) so you can take the story in smaller bites and not have a whole ass meal every time you sit down and read my stuff. plus, this might help with my posting schedule-- i think working on and posting smaller chapters would be a much better method compared to writing one big fic.

doesthatmakesenseiamsotiredpLEASE

anyways, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter of Blinded by Love! as always, no spoilers :)

also, it’s been a hot minute since i wrote anything remotely creative please bare with me as i get back into it ok that’s it thanks bye

~*~

"Is everyone ready?" Byleth stared deeply into the exuberant eyes of her Lions; their bright, starving hues were hungry, aching for the exhilarating taste of battle. Dimitri, barely managing to contain his excitement, nodded resolutely.

"Yes, Professor."

"Very good," Byleth spread the torn map on a desk and motioned for everyone to gather around, "we are being dispatched to a village not far from the monastery. Some bandits have grown unruly as of late and have begun tormenting the villagers. The Church is sending us to get rid of them."

They pointed to a particular spot on the map and proceeded to explain the roads you all would take to get to the relatively out-of-the-way village. As they were doing that, Byleth quickly and succinctly explained the strategies the Lions would be deploying, as well as last-minute shopping lists.

"Before we leave, we should resupply on vulneraries and whatnot." Byleth gazed around the room; seafoam greens met (E/C) hues. "(F/N), can you and Dimitri take care of this please?"

Snickers bounced around the room as you and Dimitri adopted the same flustered expression. You reached out and silently took the scraggly piece of paper in your hand as you felt the prince's antsy presence accompany you from behind.

"Any questions?" Byleth looked at their bushy-tailed Lions again. "Be smart out there. Safety should come naturally."

Byleth, with a wave of their hand, dismissed their students.

"We'll be leaving in about an hour, so be sure you're fully prepared by then."

"Yes, Professor!" Everyone scurried out of the classroom (not without a few jabs prodded into Dimitri's side and a couple of knowing, teasing glances cast your way). Dimitri, after making sure enough rosiness dissipated from his cheeks, cleared his throat and slowly tapped you on your shoulder. The royal watched as your entire body seemingly glitched into the fifth dimension before turning around to meet his wavering gaze.

"I-- uh," the blonde stiffly cleared his throat, dedicating way too much brainpower to simply hold your gaze. "We should... um... t-the supplies--."

"Y-Yes." You squeaked, crumpling the shopping list closer to your racing heart. You and Dimitri's eyes scurried to the scuff marks on the stone floor, absolutely immobilized. Byleth, with a loud 'ahem,' subdued the sparks fluttering between you and the prince; you both spun around to your instructor and bowed hastily.

"Our deepest apologies, Professor!"

"We'll be heading out now!"

As Byleth watched the backs of their students scurry out of their classroom, they chuckled.

"How cute."

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

"Hm... I think this should be enough vulneraries. What do you think, Your Highness?"

"(F/N), please. I've told you plenty of times to just call me Dimitri." The prince smiled warmly at you before glancing at the somewhat copious amount of vulneraries messily amassed in your arms. "I think this should be enough. It is just a routine bandit culling, after all."

"That's true... And, I feel like I'm being-- I don't know-- disrespectful? If I call you by your name. I feel it's only proper for me to address you by your title." You countered as Dimitri took a majority of the vulneraries in his strong arms.

"Nonsense. I want you to address me by my name," he coughed and looked away, "o-only if you are comfortable though. If you truly desire to address me by my title only, then that is fine as well."

"Oh, no! I just-- I thought-- are you... really sure it's okay for me to call you by your name?"

"Of course!"

"O-Okay... Dimitri." You smiled, color dabbling your cheeks. Dimitri almost dropped all the vulneraries watching your delicate fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I have to admit, it feels kind of... strange saying your name."

"...oh." Dimitri's lips, still cast upward, did not match the downtrodden expression the rest of his features bore. Realizing your egregious choice of words, you let out a cry of surprise.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" You bowed. "It felt strange because I wasn't used to it! But... I like it. I like saying your name, Dimitri."

The extinguished look in his eyes instantly flared up with life and excitement.

"R-Really?!"

A lighthearted laugh escaped you; Dimitri's grin grew wider at the natural melody in your voice.

"Yes! Dimitriii.~ Dimitriii.~"

The prince's sides had begun to ache from all the laughing; he buried his burning face in the pile of vulneraries.

"I love hearing you say my name..." He muttered, his voice muffled by the sacks of medicinal herbs.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"N-Nothing important. Let's head back, shall we?"

"Mmkay!" As you cheerily skipped through the marketplace with the prince at your side, a glimmer from one of the stalls caught your eye. Your feet froze mid-air and your boots made a loud clonk as you fell back down to earth. Dimitri, surprised at the sudden shift in mood, looked up at you worriedly.

"(F/N)? Is everything all right?"

When he looked over, you and all the vulneraries you were carrying had essentially disappeared from existence. Dimitri, his heart throbbing a quickening pulse in his temples, spun to and fro in the middle of the street, growing more and more panicked at your continued absence.

"Excuse me, how much is this?"

Dimitri's head had never whipped around so fast.

"Ah, you got a good eye, lass! Bought this from a fella off the coasts of Brigid. 'Posed to bring you good luck, he said." The merchant's gnarly voice had a distinct ring that overpowered the rest of the bustling marketplace.

"It's so pretty..." Breathed a response.

After a crowd of people on his right dissolved, Dimitri found your vulnerary-laden form stooped over a table flooded with jewelry and glittery accessories. He breathed out, thanking the Goddess as he felt years subtracted from his life slowly be added back on. He hurriedly made his way to your side and glanced around the vast treasures laid out for sale. The merchant threw his head back and roared in glee.

"Indeed, indeed! One of my best finds, I tell ya. A true beauty."

Your (E/C) eyes shimmered brighter than any jewel Dimitri had ever seen as they excitedly landed on his placid blues.

"Dimitri, look! Isn't it gorgeous?"

"Er... Which one? They're all quite lovely." Dimitri politely smiled and nodded his head at the merchant, who puffed his chest out with pride.

"That one!" You motioned with your chin, pointing your lips at a particular brooch. Upon closer inspection, the mound of metal quickly took on the shape of a lion. The simple sheen of silver contrasted nicely with the array of crystalline colors surrounding it. The artisan's mastery over fine metalwork translated beautifully into the gorgeous detailing in the mane and face of the feline; a permanent roar was etched onto the refined ore, its eyes ablaze with ferocity and vivacity. It stood majestically on its hind legs, seemingly ready to jump into the fray of a battle that will never come. A jewel the shade of bright blue skies was incrested in its paws; the radiant glitter of the gem sailed across its surface like clouds on a cool spring day.

"It... is quite breathtaking." Hummed the prince. "How much is it?"

"10,000 Gold!" The merchant smiled widely, more holes than teeth in his mouth.

"T-Ten--?!" You stumbled backward, the spell that the brooch had put you under snapping like a strained thread.

"Yup yup! But for a fine lass like ya, I'll cut it down to... hm... Let's say 7,500. Deal?"

"That's... still a lot..." You looked despondently at the brooch, the luminous blue darkening as a storm approached. The merchant frowned.

"Sorry, lass. Can't go lower than that. I'd be sellin' at a loss past that price."

"T-That's okay... Um, I think I'll stop by another time. Let's go, Dimitri..."

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heels and sulked away, your shoulders hunched forward and your head hung low. Dimitri's heart splintered into pieces as he watched your form slowly homogenize with the crowd. With a small nod (and a few moments reserved for the neat pile of vulneraries he built at his feet), Dimitri whipped out a pouch that clanged a tune that would make any merchant's heart sing.

"Can I still make good on that previous offer?"

#fire emblem #dimitri fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fe3h dimitri #fe3h #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #Fire Emblem Three Houses #it is almost 5 AM #i literally have a final that opens in like 4 hours #why am i doing this

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years ago

Text

Sunset Swerve - Part 9

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: discussion of death, mentions of drunk driving and car crash, light swearing

A/N: omg okay it’s finally here!! This part took me longer to get out because I wanted to finish the next one before I posted it. So, for the first (and probably last) time ever with this fic you’ll be able to read the next part immediately after this one!! There are some Jordan/Julie moments in here that I’ve been waiting for for a while so I’m really excited for you to finally be able to read them! Also, oops, not me finding more ways to add Talia Mar songs into this story. The lyrics are from her song Selfish and I would totally recommend checking it out, I just felt like the lyrics really fit Luke and Jordan’s relationship! Anyway, enough from me. Send me a message/drop a comment if you want to be added to the taglist and as always let me know what you think!

Part 8 Masterlist

___

The atmosphere in the Molina’s living room was conflicting. Though in the back of her head she knew it was unreasonable, Jordan had expected them to poof into the living room after leaving the cafe to find Julie being scolded by her father. Instead, they were met with Carlos lurking around the house with his iPad while Tia repeatedly tried to convince him that ghosts weren’t real (rude). Meanwhile, the four ghosts sat on the couch silently, the mood surrounding them somber as they considered what could be happening between Julie and her father. Jordan wasn’t sure what the standard punishment was for sneaking out after being grounded missing school and lying these days, but she was certain it couldn’t be good. Julie was probably being grounded for life and forced to quit the band.

“Typical adult,” Reggie whined, puling the other three from their thoughts. “Remember when we were kids and they never believed what we said?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was just a you thing,” Alex said skeptically before proudly adding, “I was always pretty trustworthy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jordan added, staring at the boy strangely.

“Shouldn’t we be more worried about Julie?” Luke interrupted. “Her dad just busted her, okay? He’s probably making her quit the band”

“Woah, when did Luke become the voice of reason?” Jordan teased, trying to ease the guilt she felt.

Luke rolled his eyes but Alex and Reggie cracked a smile at her joke, making her feel a little better.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about Julie right now,” Reggie spoke, a glimmer in his eyes that made Jordan worried about what he was about to do. “But, we can still help Carlos. Adults not believing children ends tonight.”

“Showtime,” he whispered to himself before leaning back and turning off the lamp behind him.

Tia gasped and Carlos perked up.

“‘Ghosts aren’t real,’ huh? How do you explain that?” Carlos asked and Tia shook her head.

“Lightbulbs burn out all the time Carlos.”

“Ooh, wrong answer Tia!” Reggie exclaimed hopping up from the couch and heading towards the window while the others looked on disapprovingly.

“Explain this,” he challenged, fluttering the blinds open and closed.

Luke, Jordan, and Alex all wished, each of them expressing equal parts disapproval and disbelief at the dark-haired ghost’s actions but none of them doing anything to stop it.

It took Tia calling him a demon for Reggie to stop, but it seemed he wasn’t quite done yet.

“Wait, I gotta get it on video!” Carlos explained and Reggie perked up again.

“Yeah, you do!” He agreed, now moving to stand in front of the basket of laundry on the coffee table. “Time for an old classic.”

Before anyone realized what he was doing, Reggie had taken ahold of the white sheet in the basket, throwing it over his upper body. The result was frantic screams from Tia as she dragged herself and Carlos out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Alex asked sternly as Reggie plopped down in the armchair, sheet discarded.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve defended every kid who’s never been believed,” Reggie answered with pride and conviction before adding, “Some might even say I’m a superhero.”

“Or the first person to be killed twice,” Jordan scoffed and Reggie’s eyes went wide as he realized what she was implying.

“We should probably get out of here before Julie finds out, huh?” He said, jumping up from his seat and running out of the living room.

Luke, Jordan, and Alex all exchanged exasperated looks before quickly following after him.

In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have chosen the studio as their hiding spot but in their defense, they were sure that Julie was going to be detained for a lot longer than she was. It was only about ten minutes after Reggie’s haunting that they were found.

“You four,” Julie exclaimed, storming into the garage. “Are in so much trouble. Explain yourselves.”

She was immediately met with a barrage of shouting from the ghost, all of them thrilled to see her so soon and not paying attention to her words.

“Julie! You’re back!”

“How’d it go with your dad?”

“Did he make you quit the band?”

“Are you grounded for life?”

“Nuh-uh, stop speaking,” Julie commanded, face still stern as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I just watched my aunt run from my house screaming about ghosts. What did you do?”

Luke, Alex, and Jordan turned to stare at Reggie who was staring back at them with eyes wide. The three ghosts looked between each other, making a silent decision before turning back to Julie.

“It was Reggie.” Alex and Jordan said simultaneously and Luke gapped at them.

“Guys!” Reggie yelped, betrayed.

“Sorry Reg,” Jordan shrugged. “I’m much more afraid of her than you.”

“Reggie?” Julie whined, staring at the wide-eyed bassist.

“I just wanted to defend Carlos! Ta kept saying ghosts weren’t real but he was trying so hard to be a ghost hunter!”

“Aw, Reg,” Julie cooed, dropping her arms and stern facade. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“How does he do that?” Jordan whispered to Alex as they watched Reggie weasel out of trouble.

Alex just shrugged.

“You’re off the hook this time,” Julie sighed, addressing all the ghosts again. “But please stop scaring my family.”

They all nodded quickly in agreement.

“So, Julie, how’d it go with your dad?” Luke asked tentatively.

“I’m still in the band,” She started and the ghosts cheered excitedly. “But, we talked and I have to rearrange my priorities a little. School has to come first or he said he’ll pull the plug.”

“Wow,” Jordan said, shocked. “I would’ve been murdered for something like that.”

“Yeah, your dad is the coolest,” Reggie added and Jordan rolled her eyes with a smirk, they all knew how much the boy loved Ray.

“Yeah, he is,” Julie said softly, nodding slightly as she smiled to herself. “I gotta get back up to the house. School tomorrow.”

The ghosts all nodded understandingly, sending her off with big smiles and enthusiastic waves.

___

The next few days passed in a bit of a blur, though Jordan could distinctly remember feeling like some moments were never-ending. It seemed every passing day brought Julie and Luke closer together and Jordan felt as though she was being torn in two. On one hand, Julie was now one of her closest friends and she couldn’t help but be happy for the girl as she knew about her crush on Luke, but on the other hand, she really couldn’t help those flare-ups of negative emotions she couldn’t identify every time they were near each other. Then there were the moments that passed by too fast which had increasingly and alarmingly begun to include Luke.

She’d started using her free time to write after a rehearsal one afternoon. Jordan and Luke were sitting knee to knee with their guitars in their laps despite the practice having ended. They had been quietly working on some new melodies when Julie called Luke away to “ask him about something”. Luke had, of course, jumped up and followed her out of the garage immediately. It had been one of those moments that had ended all too soon, and the silence and emptiness that followed had felt like an eternity. Her swirling mixture of unidentifiable emotions had left her feeling quite angsty so she turned to the best outlet she knew: songwriting.

She knew the guys were nearly out of their minds curious as to what she was working on with all the time she’d been spending at the piano or strumming her guitar, trying to figure out melodies and chord structures. Reggie had essentially told her as much one afternoon before Alex had hit his shoulder and told him to give her her privacy. The drummer was extremely preceptive and sometimes Jordan wondered if he had a better understanding of what she was feeling that she did.

Still, she should’ve known it wouldn’t be long before one of them got too nosey and she should’ve done a better job keeping track of her stuff.

“Hey, has anyone seen my notebook?” She asked, walking into the garage the day after Luke and Julie’s ‘talk’.

She’d spent the morning wandering around Hollywood searching for her old haunts in an attempt to clear her mind but instead she was left with more writing fodder.

“Uh, I think I saw it over by the couch?” Reggie answered hesitantly, not looking up from the ‘old’ iPod Julie had gifted him (though technology like that hardly seemed old to any of them).

The boy hadn’t been wrong, per se. When Jordan turned to look towards the couch she did see her notebook, however, she found it in Luke’s hands. As his eyes scanned the pages her stomach plummeted and without even thinking she was marching over to the boy.

“Woah, Moss, What’s this?” He asked, pausing at a page before reading off the lyrics,

“I’m selfish, I’m selfish, I’m selfish

when it comes to you.

I can’t help it, can’t help it

crazy things that I do.”

“Give it back.”

“When I need you I come back to you.

I’m selfish, I’m selfish

when it comes to you.”

“I’m serious, Patterson,” she said sternly, grabbing the top of the notebook but not pulling for fear of ripping any of the pages. “You don’t see me poking around in your notebook.”

“You don’t see me leaving my notebook lying around,” he responded cheekily, letting go of the notebook. “Who’s it about?”

“None of your business.” She answered, face hardened as she glared at the boy, hugging the journal to her chest.

“I think it’s about me,” he smirked, leaning back on the couch.

“I think you’re a dumbass,” Jordan snarked back, refusing to give him the satisfaction as she spun on her heels, taking a few steps before poofing up to the nook she’d carved out for herself in the loft.

The next day was the exact opposite of the ones preceding them. Before, Jordan was using any excuse she could come up with to spend time with Luke- making edits to songs, working on melodies, hell she even stayed up all night reading her book while the guys were out so that she could pass it on to him the next day with the idea that once he started reading they could talk about it. However now, she stayed as far away as possible. Or at least she tried.

She poofed up to her spot in the loft after a band practice of pointedly ignoring Luke. She spent the afternoon and evening there, entirely uninterrupted. She’d tried to immerse herself into the next book in her series, hoping a new quest might suck her in and help her forget her thoughts for a while. Instead, they persisted and she put down her book, trading it for her notebook and guitar and spending the rest of the day strumming and humming softly as she worked out the lyrics and melodies. The song still plagued her, despite the anger she was feeling towards the boy.

She’d made it until after Julie had gone to bed before anyone interrupted her solitude.

“C’mon Moss!” Luke called from the garage floor. “We’re going exploring.”

Jordan didn’t miss a beat, not even bothering to look up from her notebook where she had just scribbled down a new chord.

“And why would I want to go anywhere with you?” She spat back, picturing the hurt look on the ghost boy’s face. She had expected it to bring her some sort of satisfaction as being snide had always done in the past, but this time it also brought a little pang in her chest.

“Look, I’m sorry alright?” Luke called up, sounding like he’d rather be saying anything else. “I shouldn’t have gone through your notebook, it was a dick move.”

Jordan blamed the pang in her chest for why she gave in so quickly, poofing down to join the guys.

“Fine.” She conceded, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest, refusing to look Luke in the eyes. “Where are we even going?”

When she did finally turn to look at the brunet, she had to look away immediately. His eyes were too full of raw and unhidden emotions that she was too afraid to search through for fear of what she’d find.

___

“Guys!” Reggie exclaimed, poofing into the garage a couple of mornings later.

Jordan had returned to her spot on the couch, notebook placed protectively beside her but her book open on her lap as she read. Luke was seated a couple of seats away, reading his own book, and Alex was sat across from him making a friendship bracelet like Julie had taught him.

“You’ll never believe what Ray just told me!” Reggie continued, and Jordan looked up, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. “Okay, well, he told Julie but I was there!”

Jordan nodded, satisfied with his correction.

“We’ve got a gig!”

While Luke and Alex hadn’t even looked up before, Reggie had all their attention now. Each of them tossing aside whatever they were working on and jumping off the furniture, bounding towards the boy and bombarding him with questions.

“Where?”

“When?”

“How?”

Reggie beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly before dramatically shushing them.

“The gig is here.” The statement caused the other three ghosts to erupt into chatter once again but Reggie held his hands up to quiet them.

“Ray said they could host a garage party and we can perform tonight!” Reggie explained further and the studio was once again filled with screams until he was able to quiet them down again. “He felt really bad about potentially messing things up with that manager from the open mic night that he and some of his buddies are gonna film us for YouTube!”

“What’s a YouTube?” Luke asked finally after the garage fell silent, each of the three ghosts in varying stages of confusion.

Jordan was pretty sure Julie and Flynn had shown her YouTube but she couldn’t remember if that was the one where all the fangirls went to post all kinds of stuff or if it was the one with all the different video genres that people upload. Or was it the one Flynn called the worst part of the internet, where people just talk shit about everyone and everything for no reason?

“YouTube,” Reggie began, clearly enjoying getting to be the one teaching them for once. “Is a website where you can make and upload your own videos. People post all kinds of stuff, playing video games, tutorials, and music videos.”

“We’re gonna record a music video? Like on MTV?” Luke gasped, eyes wide as he stared at his bandmate.

“Yes, dude! And Julie says if we get enough views we could go big!”

Luke gaped at the other three ghosts, opening and closing his mouth like he was going to say something but then changing his mind before he just poofed away altogether.

“Where’d you think he’s going?” Reggie asked and Alex shrugged.

Jordan tilted her head slightly, trying to think through Luke’s thought process. She rolled her eyes when she figured it out before poofing away herself.

“Where do you think she’s going?” Reggie asked, sounding more alarmed this time but Alex just sighed, shaking his head slightly as he collapsed back into his chair.

___

Jordan reappeared in the hallway of Julie’s school, poofing in right next to Luke and causing both him and Julie to jump in surprise.

“Sorry, my Patterson Idiocy Meter was going off,” Jordan smirked and Julie, “It lets me know when he’s doing something especially stupid.”

Julie gave a small chuckle at that while Luke stuck his tongue out at Jordan, who just gave him a false smile in return.

“Anyway,” Luke said dramatically, rerouting the conversation and turning back to Julie. “I was thinking, you should just ditch school today and come rehearse with us.”

“Something especially stupid like that,” Jordan said, smacking his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“No, I can’t,” Julie said firmly. “I promised dad school first.”

“Right, you were at school first, and now you’re leaving to go rehearse,” Luke grinned at his own cleverness and Jordan rolled her eyes.

“Stop trying to persuade her to do bad things!” Jordan huffed exasperatedly and Julie gave her a small smile of thanks.

“I really can’t,” Julie repeated. “Plus I promised Nick I’d be his dance partner…”

Jordan wiggled her brows at that, knowing about Julie’s feelings about the blond-haired boy.

“…and he’s heading this way,” she finished, pretending to hang up the phone in favor of talking to the boy.

“Well don’t you look sharp?” Luke teased despite the boy not being able to hear him and Jordan huffed irritably, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Uh-oh! I think somebody’s got a crush on Julie,” he continued and Julie glared at him and Jordan just about dragged him away by his ear.

Luke continued to mock the boy, mimicking his movements and expressions until he walked off. If Jordan hadn’t been trying to push down the feelings that were making her pissed at him, she might’ve even laughed.

“Well, he’s just too cute!” Luke gasped to Julie once Nick was gone and Julie rolled her eyes.

“Boundaries,” she reminded him. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Fine!” Luke called after her as she began to walk to her class. “Guess we’ll just have to carry you tonight, just like we always do!”

“Shut up, Luke,” Jordan rolled her eyes before calling down the hall at her friend. “Good luck Julie! You’ll be great!”

“Yeah, kill it on the dance floor!” Luke called, doing a small shuffle of his own in the middle of the hallway.

“Dork,” Jordan muttered under her breath but Luke still heard it, snapping his head around to give her a faux insulted look which earned him another eye roll.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta get rehearsing,” Luke spoke, but Jordan waved him off.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Luke frowned slightly but poofed away anyway, leaving Jordan alone in the now empty hallway.

She wandered down the same way Julie had gone, deciding that she wanted to watch her dance. She hoped supporting her friend would give her the opportunity to stop thinking about a certain brown-haired ghost in any capacity.

____

She was right, it had helped. Of course, any tranquility she had found sitting on the gym bleachers was immediately destroyed the moment she reappeared in the studio. She had clearly arrived in the middle of something, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

Reggie was going on about “never forgetting your first ghost,” whatever that meant, and then Luke started talking about how talented of a drummer Alex was.

“I wouldn’t let all that stuff get in between you and what you love,” Luke finished saying when Reggie pipped up again.

“I don’t know, man,” he pondered. “Sometimes a little fire can make things better on stage. Like you and Julie.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Luke stuttered out, looking around nervously.

“C’mon, everyone can see the way you look at her when you sing,” Reggie continued, piling it on and for some reason, Jordan thought she might vomit. “You guys ooze chemistry.”

Luke’s eyes kept flitting around the studio, refusing to look at any of them until he made direct eye contact with Jordan who frowned, looking away as she swallowed thickly. Of course, everyone had noticed the chemistry between him and Julie. She’d half hoped she was imagining it but clearly it was real.

“Please never say ooze again, but you have to agree he’s right,” Alex shrugged, standing up from his drum set.

“No, no.” Luke denied, and Jordan eyed her shoelaces, not wanting to catch his eyes, afraid of what she might find. “I have chemistry with everyone I sing with.”

Alex and Reggie must’ve been giving him looks of disbelief because he huffed in that way a child does when they don’t get their way.

“Seriously, watch.”

Jordan watched his feet as he took a step towards her.

“You’d better take that step back,” she growled, hoping she sounded as menacing as she planned to and not like the kicked puppy her heart was making her feel like. She didn’t think she’d be able to take it. Looking in his eyes and feeling like he’d set her on fire but knowing it was all just to prove a point, that it wasn’t real for him.

Luke huffed again, and she watched his feet turn around walking in Reggie’s direction now as he began to sing.

“I believe, I believe that we’re just one dream away from who we’re meant to be,” knowing his back was turned to her, she looked up, watching as he inched closer and closer to a wide-eyed Reggie. “That we’re standing on the edge of… great.”

“Wow,” Alex remarked, “I see chemistry.”

“Yeah, that was pretty hot,” Reggie admitted, voice cracking as he spoke.

Then Luke kissed two of his fingers before placing them on Reggie’s lips. Jordan couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her at the bewildered expression on the boy’s face and Luke whirled around to grin at her. She rolled her eyes in response, trying to ignore the smile and the feeling that something was flapping around in her stomach that it brought.

“Girls, amiright?” Reggie croaked out.

“Yeah,” Luke chuckled and Alex quickly chimed in.

“No,” he said definitively with a light chuckle.

Jordan barked out a laugh at that, poofing over to the drummer to give him a high five before poofing back to the front of the band setup. The three guitarists slipped their instruments back over their heads and all of a sudden they were rehearsing. Jordan was grateful for the distraction, music was always the best outlet for unwanted emotions.

They rehearsed like that until Julie got home from school, the four of them taking their music seriously while also goofing around. At some point, Jordan had relocated her amp to Reggie’s side of the setup, the two ghosts doing increasingly ridiculous and dramatic stunts with each take through the song. Julie walked into the garage just in time to watch Jordan and Reggie perform a run-through while attempting to backbend as far as they could while still maintaining the integrity of their sound.

“What on earth are you guys doing?” She asked, staring at the two ghosts as if they’d lost their minds.

“Julie! Thank goodness you’re here!” Jordan exclaimed dramatically, “Luke’s been singing your part and…” she widened her eyes, drawing her hand back and forth in front of her neck to silently convey that it wasn’t good.

“Hey! I take offense to that!” Luke exclaimed and Jordan rolled her eyes.

“That was the point,” she sassed, smirking at the boy who pouted in response.

Julie just shook her head exasperatedly at the pair.

“Let’s start practicing before these two can get into it fully,” she suggested to the group and Jordan looked down at her feet embarrassedly before poofing herself and her equipment back to the other side of the setup.

“Girl, where are you going?” Julie asked, her look of bewilderment barely concealing her grin. “This is our song, I want you next to me.”

Jordan didn’t even try to conceal her own grin at the offer, poofing back up by the girl.

They practiced that way for about another hour before they had the song to a place they were happy with. Luke was a bit stressed when Julie called the rehearsal. He wanted to run the song more but the rest of the band shut him down, reassuring him that they would be fine.

Jordan had started to pull out her small makeup stash to get started on her look for the performance when Julie invited her up to the house, asking for help picking out an outfit and suggesting that they get ready together. Jordan readily agreed, shouldering her backpack of clothes and scooping up her makeup as she followed the girl to her room.

She set her belongings down off to the side before joining Julie as the girl opened up the chest across from her bed.

“What’s that?” Jordan asked as Julie began to dig through the clothes.

“Oh, it’s my mom’s trunk with a bunch of her old clothes,” Julie explained, pulling out a piece of fabric. “I try to wear something of her’s when I perform, it’s as close as I can get to having her there with me.”

Jordan nodded, leaning back against Julie’s bed frame as she sat on the floor. It was an incredibly sweet and sentimental gesture and Jordan suddenly found herself with a lump in her throat and an overwhelming bout of homesickness as she fiddled with the small, silver pendant necklace she never took off. Her own mother had given it to her on her last Christmas.

“That’s beautiful,” she said softly, referring to the sentiment and the white shirt Julie was holding in front of her.

Julie made her way over to her dresser, rifling through pants as Jordan remained on the floor, nearly entirely lost in her thoughts.

“We all lost our parents too soon,” Jordan sighed deeply, voicing her thoughts as she leaned her head back against Julie’s mattress. “Reggie’s spent all their time bickering and left hardly any time for their child, Alex’s basically disowned him, and Luke ran away. I was the only one with a decent relationship with my parents and then they...”

She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, unable to finish the sentence. Nearly twenty-five and a half years later and the wound was still as fresh as it had been on day one.

“It can be hard to talk about trauma,” Julie acknowledged sympathetically, sliding down onto the floor next to her, outfit forgotten on the bed. “Can I ask when they passed?”

“H-how did you know?” Jordan stuttered out, looking at the girl next to her in confusion. She knew she’d never said it. She was still barely able to think it.

“Grief recognizes grief, I guess,” Julie shrugged. “My mom and I were really close but after she died, I couldn’t even hear her name without crying for months, let alone talk about her. It took even longer to be able to look at pictures. You say you had a good relationship with your parents but I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

Jordan nodded thoughtfully at that. She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly before opening her mouth to speak.

“It was about five months before… before I died,” she answered, eyes clenched shut to stop the tears as images from that night swam behind her eyelids. “It was a car accident. Drunk driver, you know?”

She could still see the flashing lights in her driveway, the faces of the police officers blurred by her tears as they told her the news.

“I’m so sorry,” Julie said, and Jordan knew by the thickness of her voice that she was fighting back tears as well.

“Luke said there was a time where you were the closest thing to family he had. I assumed he was talking about when he ran away but was it because of what happened to your parents?”

Jordan nodded slightly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

“After their… after the funeral, I ran.” She explained, voice cracking. “I was less than a year away from turning eighteen, I figured I was better off waiting it out than any of the other options.

“Luke, uh… Luke sorta took me in. He’d been living in their practice studio- your garage- since he ran away and offered to let me stay with him. I would’ve turned him down but I didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. I guess He was all I had. None of the guys knew, pretty sure they still don’t, so don’t like…”

“Mention it.” Julie filled in, staring at the ghost with a look of caring and understanding that she hadn’t felt in ages. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Jordan nodded, giving the girl a watery smile of thanks as she wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Never thought I’d be back living in that studio but it’s better now. We have each other,” Jordan added, trying to lighten the mood. “And we have you.”

“Do you wanna cross over?” Julie asked curiously. “Figure out your unfinished business?”

“I do. When Alex first told us about it, it was all I wanted. A way to see my parents again,” Jordan sighed contemplatively. “But not just yet. I like to think they’re with your mom right now, and they’re all watching over us. I think they’d be proud.

“All my parents ever wanted was for me to do what I loved- to play music- and I’m doing that now, just never in the way I thought I would.”

“I’m glad I can help you achieve that,” Julie said sincerely, reaching over to cover Jordan’s hand with her own, forgetting that it would just phase through it.

“Me too,” Jordan smiled, wiping the fallen tears from her cheeks as she stood up, “We should probably stop crying and start getting ready, huh?”

Julie laughed, pulling herself off the floor as well.

“I have an idea for the song if you’re interested,” Julie said, changing the subject as they moved around her bedroom.

___

Jordan thought maybe after years of performing, the pre-concert nerves would fade away but as she stood in the garage bouncing uncontrollably she started to think they never would. She shook her hands out in front of her as Flynn began their introduction, the doors sliding open to reveal the crowd of high schoolers.

When Julie took a seat at the piano, Jordan felt someone grab her hand. She looked over to see Alex smiling at her reassuringly and Reggie holding his other hand. She smiled gratefully at the two boys, delighted by the fact that they had picked up the pre-show ritual. She turned back to see Luke looking at them all curiously, looking slightly upset that he was being left out of something. Jordan smiled at him, reaching out her spare hand which he took eagerly.

The four ghosts stood in silence, listening to Julie sing.

“Like a rubber ball, we come bouncing back. We all gotta second act inside of us,”

Jordan squeezed the boys’ hands briefly before they were all poofing to their spots on the makeshift “stage.”

Julie immediately jumped back to where she was playing her guitar, singing the first part of the chorus to her before moving to give Reggie and Alex some attention. As the ghosts joined in on the backup vocals Jordan noticed Luke give Julie his signature head nod, signaling that he wanted her to come sing with him and Jordan immediately flashed back to Reggie and Alex’s comments about the pair’s chemistry. She was grateful for the presence of mind to remember that they were being filmed so she fought the urge to roll her eyes and plastered a smile onto her face.

She angled herself away from him slightly as she picked up the second verse.

“We all make mistakes. They’re just stepping stones to take us where we wanna go. It’s never straight, no,” she sang to the audience, basking in the cheers and letting her negative feelings fade out only for them to come right back as she caught another head nod out of the corner of her eyes as he and Julie joined the vocals.

“Sometimes we gotta lean, lean on someone else,” Jordan sang to Julie, doing her best to ignore Luke and the unreasonable and boiling anger she was feeling. “To get a little help, until we find a way.”

Julie broke off when they hit the chorus again, making her way in front of the piano to interact a little with her classmates in the crowd. As they sang, Jordan and Reggie switched spots, the bassist joining Luke at his mic and Jordan singing to Alex from Reggie’s mic.

“Cause we’re standing on the edge of great,” Julie sang from the front as Reggie and Jordan returned to their own mics to sing the backups.

“On the edge of great.”

“Great.”

“On the edge of great.”

“Great.”

“On the edge of great.”

“Cause we’re standing on the edge of,” Julie sent Jordan a quick smile before stepping up onto the piano bench.

“Shout, shout. C’mon and let it out, out. Don’t gotta hide it, let your colors blind their eyes. Be who you are don’t compromise and shout, shout. C’mon and let it out, out.”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you feel alive.”

As Julie took on the chorus by herself, Luke stepped up beside where she crouched on the piano. Jordan tried to ignore the puppy dog eyes he gave her as he played his guitar solo, her stomach sinking as Julie smiled back at him. She focused her attention on Julie, drawing on her pride for her friend as she slid over to Reggie.

“Something big, something crazy, our best is yet unknown. That this moment is ours to own,” she sang with Reggie as they all joined back in, for the rest of the final chorus.

As the chorus came to an end Jordan stepped forward, sliding next to Julie on the piano bench, her guitar disappearing along with the guys. She played out the rest of the song, sharing the piano with Julie as they sang together.

“Running from the past, tripping on the now. What is lost can be found, it’s obvious.”

They shared a friendly smile before she disappeared. Reappearing in the garage as the crowd erupted into cheers. She watched proudly as Julie took her bows before catching Luke’s eyes. She frowned at the scrutinizing look he was giving her. It was like he thought she had wronged him somehow. What was his deal?

Part 10

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx @morganayennefertyrell

Sunset Swerve Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway @deni-gonzalez @advicefromnixxxx @brooke0297 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @cordeliascrown

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #luke patterson #luke patterson fic #luke patterson x oc #luke jatp #jatp luke #reggie peters #jatp reggie #alex mercer #jatp alex #julie molina #sunset curve #edge of great #sunset swerve

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 5 years ago

Text

tell me you care

request: 60 62 and 74 with Joel edmundson or Matthew tkachuk

prompts: “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care.” & “Hi.” - “Get away from me.” & “You’ve been crying, I can tell.” / numbers 60, 62, & 74 off of this list with Matthew Tkachuk.

summary: first impressions are important to you, but Matthew somehow finds a way to bounce back.

warnings: none

word count: 2.9k

You were, by all accounts, a likable, friendly person. You always wore a smile on your face and got along with just about every person you met. Of course, there’s always a few exceptions. Your grumpy old neighbor who had heard your music loud late at night once and decided to hold a grudge. A few of the girls at your old high school who resented you for not giving them the time of day. One of your professors, who seemed to have a personal vendetta after you forgot to turn in an assignment late.

And then there was Matthew.

Your relationship with the curly haired hockey player was something else entirely. He was cocky, which to be fair you could handle, because you were friends with other hockey players on the Flames, but it was borderline arrogance that made your skin crawl. He teased you relentlessly whenever you were in the same room, which, once again, wouldn't be a problem if he actually showed some kindness every once in a while.

Long story short, you and Matthew did not get along very well. Like, at all.

Which also seemed to be a source of amusement between his teammates, and it seemed to be their personal mission to get you and Matt in the same room as often as possible just to see how you’d react.

“Noah, I’m pretty sure whatever it is, you don't need my help. You’re pretty capable.” You joked, following your friend’s large frame into the kitchen. You were at a house party, thrown by Matthew himself, though Johnny had been the one to extend the invitation to you. You had considered not even going, but then Johnny had said something about how he wanted to make sure he spent as much time with him as he could before they got too busy with a push for the playoffs, and, really, how could you say no to that?

But you had seen Johnny twice in the entire night, and only spoken to him once. He had been with Matthew, and you weren’t in the mood to start a fight, so you kept your distance. You found residence at the pong table, making friends with the people there and hung out for a while until Noah approached, saying he needed help getting something in the kitchen.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun if you come.” He said with a grin, one that should have been your first warning to turn and run, but you were just tipsy enough to overlook it as you walked into what was essentially a trap. Standing in the kitchen awaiting your arrival was not only Johnny, but Matthew and the usual gaggle of women that trailed after him

You weren’t blind, you knew Matt was attractive. Curly hair, handsome grin, tall with broad shoulders—you definitely got the appeal. But then he did things like open his mouth, and you wondered just why those girls stuck to him like they did.

Matt didn’t even see you enter at first, too busy chatting with one of the girls to notice you. But then Johnny called your name with a cheer, raising his drink in your direction and opening his arm for you to tuck yourself into his side.

And Matt genuinely might have given himself whiplash with how fast his head snapped to face you.

“Where have you been?” Johnny teased, squeeing you obnoxiously tight before letting go.

“Playing pong.” You explained with a shrug.

“How bad did you lose?” Matt cut in, and for a moment you spotted the mischievous glint in Johnny’s eyes as you rolled yours, not even bothering to turn towards the boy who had spoken at first. When you finally turned, you were surprised to find that Matt had separated himself from the girls, but they were still nearby.

“What makes you think I lost?” You knew you shouldn't have said it, should have turned back to Johnny and asked him how much longer he planned on stay or told Noah off for tricking you into coming into the kitchen. But instead, you took Matt’s bait and met his smirk head on.

“Well, you’re in here instead of defending your title of champion.” His arms were folded across his chest and his attention was solely on you, and it was devastating that even though you could feel your annoyance at him growing, you couldn’t help but silently acknowledge how attractive he looked.

“I’m taking a break, my partner needed to use the bathroom and Noah said he needed help with something.” You found yourself explaining, though the petty part of you considered just ignoring him. Knowing Matt, though, he probably would take that as he had been right, and there was absolutely no way you were letting him think that.

“Who were you playing with?” He questioned, and he sounded like he was genuinely interested but you were certain he was working some kind of angle, trying his best to try and get under your skin. With your brows tugged together in confusion, you gestured across the open floor plan apartment to the guy you had been playing against.

The guy was already looking at you, and when you made eye contact, he sent a wink in your direction. You smiled back at him, before he was blocked from your line of sight by a broad chest. Over Noah and Johnny’s laughter, you realized that Matt had physically moved from one side of the kitchen to the other, just to stand between you and your decently handsome pong partner.

“What are you doing?” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow, spotting out of the corner of your eye as the girls Matt had abandoned from his previous spot huffed in annoyance.

“I don't want you flirting at my party.” He explained, all traces of amusement void in his tone. You rolled your eyes, and the only thing that stopped you from gesturing to the women who were waiting for him to pay attention to them once more being the fact you didn't want them to think you were rude.

“Oh, you really don't get to decide that.” Your response, coupled with the way you were clearly waiting for him to try and argue his case, had him spluttering for a response.

“No—not like that, I just meant—” He started, but was mercilessly cut off by one of his teammates barging into the kitchen.

“Hey, Chucky!” Rasmus cheered, swinging an arm over his shoulders as Matt still floundered for a response.

“Saved by the bell.” You muttered, rolling your eyes at Matt and smiling at Rasmus as you passed.

An hour and a half had passed in peace. You had been hanging with Noah for the entire time, until about five minutes ago when a girl caught his attention and you shoved him in her direction with an encouraging smile. Surprisingly, despite it nearing one in the morning, there were still quite a lot of people in the apartment, and all at once it felt stuffy.

You slipped out onto the balcony and were alone for two minutes, tops, before the door opened behind you. You didn’t turn at first, too captivated by the nighttime view of Calgary. But you did feel the person lean against the railing next to you, and it was a voice you were certain you could recognize anywhere.

“Hi.”

“Get away from me.” You snapped, tired from a long day of classes and your buzz had long since worn off.

“You're so sweet, you know that?” Matt’s sarcastic tone was obvious, but when you turned to look at him he was grinning. It wasn't his typical devilish smirk, it seemed genuine. “What’re you doing out here by yourself?” If he was being civil, then you could too.

“I needed some air.” You shrugged, turning away from him and leaning backwards against the railing, craning your head sideways to look at him. “I think I’m going to head out, though?”

And it was like a switch had been flicked, all traces of his typical annoying personality vanished, and it was as if you guys didn’t usually bicker whenever you were in the same room.

“I’ll go with you.” He said easily, as if it wasn't the first time he had offered something like that. You scoffed, raising a brow in his direction.

“Not a chance, Tkachuk.”

“Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.” He clarified with a chuckle, only grinning wider when you rolled your eyes. “It's way too late, I’m not letting you get in an Uber alone.”

And, okay, so maybe he wasn't as big of an asshole he you had originally thought.

“You can’t just leave your own party.” There was a hint of amusement in your voice, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment. It was strange, usually you couldn’t wait to get away from Matt, but the simple fact that he was thoughtful enough to not want you to get in an Uber alone had you starting to see him in a different light.

“Yeah, I can. Johnny was going to crash here tonight so he can watch the place. Nobody will even notice I’m gone.” You wanted to protest, to argue that his fan club of women that he had somehow managed to lose in the crowded party.

But then he grabbed your hand and tugged you inside, his free hand ordering the car to your apartment. His tall frame was able to spot Johnny through the crowd, and he made his way over to him. Johnny had been in the process of crossing the room, so Matt was able to catch him by himself.

“Hey, we’re heading out but I’ll be back soon.” Matt told Johnny, gesturing to the door over his shoulder. Johnny’s gaze casted over Matt, then to you, and down to where your hands were still connected.

“Stay safe, you two.” Johnny was clearly hiding a grin, and without your permission a blush bloomed on your cheeks. Matt didn’t notice, thankfully, and tugged you by your joined hands towards the exit.

It was silent between you and Matt the whole ride to your apartment. It was a little strange, how he didn't let go of your hand until he was opening the car door for you. What was even more strange was how you found yourself wanting to reach back out to him once he settled in the back beside you.

But, you stayed quiet, hands in your lap and stared out the window. Once the car turned onto the street your apartment was located on, you decided that you needed to say something.

“Uh, thanks, Matt.” You spoke quietly, turning to face him. He was already looking at you, a genuine smile on his face. The car pulled over, and Matt was climbing out and holding the door open for you before you could even think to reach for the handle on your side.

“Don’t worry about.” He was standing on the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his pockets as he shrugged. It was hard to believe that the man standing before you was the same that not only an hour before you couldn’t stand to be around. But he had shown you the side of him you had only heard about from Johnny and Noah, the sweet and caring side. You bit your lip, contemplating your next move, unable to get yourself to just turn around and go inside.

If anyone asked, you would tell them alcohol was the reason why you did what you did.

You pushed yourself onto your tip-toes, one hand placed on his chest to brace yourself and the other on his shoulder to keep him still as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. You smiled subconsciously at the way his scruff scratched your lips.

For seemingly the first time in his life and definitely since you had met him, Matt was at a loss for words. His jaw dropped a bit, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

He watched as you retreated into your building to make sure you got there safe, and only when you were half inside the door did you turn to face him once more.

“Get home safe, Tkachuk.”

After that night, things seemed to shift between you and Matthew. Time spent with him was filled with more laughter and less annoyed glares, though you were pretty certain that you still rolled your eyes at him just as often. He had shown you his softer side, and it was like you saw him in a different light. He was still a pest, but he was more endearing than obnoxious.

And then you and Matt started spending time one-on-one, and it was becoming increasingly clear that before when he would say the things he did, it was only because that was his personality. He acted like that with everyone, you had even showed up at his apartment while he was FaceTiming his parents and caught him chirping his dad.

He had introduced you to his parents that night, and that was when you started to feel the shift on your relationship with him. How things weren’t so platonic between you, the way your heart raced whenever he tugged your legs across his lap while hanging out on the couch or how you found yourself wanting to text him whenever something good happened.

But you shoved that part of you down, and tried to carry on as normal. Which is why you agreed to go on a date, and one date led to two, three, four, and that’s how you ended up crying on the couch by yourself one night. Your phone was still open, his ‘sorry, this isn't going to work’ text mocking you as the device sat on the cushion next to you.

You felt stupid for crying over this guy, it wasn't as if you felt any real feelings for him, heart already occupied by a mop of curls. But your day had been stressful, and even then it sucked being dumped by a guy you thought things might have worked out with.

Someone knocked on your front door, startling you enough to drag you out of your thoughts. As you stood, you wiped the tear tracks from your face to try and seem presentable, knowing your puffy face and bloodshot eyes would give you away immediately.

Though, you forgot all about how bad you must have looked when you spotted the person standing on the other side of the door. Matt barely had time to register your appearance before you flung yourself into his arms, a hug which he easily returned.

He didn’t say anything, just lifted you off the ground a bit to carry you inside the apartment and shut the door with his foot, keeping you out of sight of the prying eyes of your neighbors. Eventually you had to pull away, but he gently cupped your jaw, not letting you get far away. You felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze, knowing that he was searching your face for any signs of what could have explained your behavior.

“You’ve been crying, I can tell.” He said so simply, and it clearly wasn't a question, but you found yourself nodding anyways. He moved you both so you were sitting on the couch, and pulled you into his chest. His hand was rubbing comfortingly up and down your back, effectively soothing you. “Why?”

And so you did, starting from your day sucked from the moment you woke up to the text you’d received ten minutes before his arrival. When you told Matt about the guy, he tensed up underneath you, and you felt his hand momentarily still on your back.

After a while, Matt had turned on some show and the two of you were silently watching without having separated. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you worried that maybe he could feel it from your position.

“I know we haven't always gotten along.” He started after a while without conversation. Your head tilted up to try and gauge where he was going with this, but his gaze was set in his lap, where he was toying with the hem of his shirt. “But you’ve gotta tell me you feel the same.”

“Matthew...” You trailed off, so caught off guard by his confession that you couldn’t even form a response. He must have taken your silence as a bad response, because suddenly he was shifting so that he met your gaze. The seriousness in his expression took the wind out of you, and you couldn’t find it in you to voice how you felt.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care.” He pleaded, continuing you before you could get a word in edgewise. “Tell me I'm not the only one that feels this.”

And still, you couldn't get any words out, too many thoughts running through your head to pick one and send out into the world. So instead, you cupped both of Matt’s cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips before he could interpret your silence as notice for him to leave.

You didn’t want to pull away, but you did need to breath and the whole situation had taken the breathe out of your lungs even before the long awaited kiss. The two of you simply grinned at each other, though after a moment you couldn’t resist a chirp.

“You could’ve given me a minute to respond, drama queen.”

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sunshinesukuna · 5 years ago

Text

americano coffee

☕ pairing: hawks x reader

☕ genre: fluff to angst

☕ inspiration: coffee — bts

☕ summary: your scent is sweet on my lips as i take a swig from the cup of memories.

Caffè Americano is a type of coffee drink prepared by diluting an espresso with hot water, giving it a similar strength to, but different flavor from, traditionally brewed coffee.

The sun wept through the blinds of the cafe as you made your way to the counter. On your heels was your boyfriend of a year, Takami Keigo, also known professionally as Hawks, the Winged Hero. Both of you had just gotten back from a particularly exhausting fight with a villain. You were slated with a PR event later at noon, to boot. To make you feel better, Keigo had suggested that the two of you go get coffee.

“Come on now, birdie. Can’t have you falling asleep on me,” he said. He gently nudged your drowsy form. “See, we’re almost at the front.”

You readjusted your position against his broad chest. A small feather tickled your cheek, eliciting a small groan. When you opened your eyes, a figure with a warm smile and soft blonde hair was holding you tightly. Did you die of exhaustion and go to heaven? Because this was what is sure felt like.

“May I take your order?” the barista asked.

“One caramel macchiato with extra caramel please. And one...” Keigo patted your shoulder, trying to wake you up. He smiled apologetically to the barista.

"Americano, please.” Your raspy morning voice was cute, he thought. As the barista jotted down your orders, Keigo decided to move you over to an empty booth.

Keigo was about to move to his chair when, you suddenly grabbed him by the jacket. You groaned under your breath.

“Now, birdie, use your words. i don’t know what you want?” You looked up at him, the sleep not yet gone from your eyes. A childish pout was on your face.

“Can you find one where I can sit next to you?” you asked him. Keigo chuckled a little. You were a pro-hero with years of experience, yet fell immobilized to the smallest bit of fatigue. It was heart-crushingly cute.

He eventually settled on a place near the wall with cushioned seats near the window. Hopefully, the sunlight would wake you up enough to get you going.

“Please enjoy,” the barista from earlier said. Keigo muttered a quick ‘thank you’ before rousing you.

He caught a whiff of the bitter coffee laid out in front of you. Keigo liked his coffee sweet. To him, the bitterness was something that he would turn away any day, but it seemed that you had a penchant for bitter coffees like this one. Something that he was just figuring out by now.

Keigo cocked an eyebrow. “You drink Americano?” You blew on the cup lightly, before downing a gulp. It seemed to have no effect on you, except giving you a little shiver. He pinched your cheek,

“Yeah. The other ones are all way too sweet,” you say. You notice him looking oddly at the coffee. “Wanna try some?”

“Only if you try some of mine.” He slides you his glass of caramel macchiato. You take a sniff. The frothy milk leaves its mark on the brim of your lips.

“It’s good,” you remark. The next five minutes are spent drinking your coffees in silence as you start to wake up. Customers start to pour in for the morning rush. Some of them recognize the two of you, but both of you pay them no mind. It felt like time had stopped, the only people in the world you, Keigo, and the cups of coffee in front of you.

“Oh goodness, did you see that quirk one of the sidekicks just now had? It was so cool!” you say. Perhaps you said more, but all his senses were focused on the white line above your lip. Keigo chuckles here and there, but he seems a little out of it. You wave your hand in front of him.

“Keigo.” you call. “Keigo!” He shifts his head off his hand. Without thinking much, he grabs the back of your head and puts his lips on yours. The smell of fresh rain and caramel are on your lips as he deepens the kiss. It’s innocent, as he still remembers that the two of you are in public.

But it’s enough to stir the lust inside your stomach, common sense starting to lose to it. A swipe of his tongue over your lip, not asking permission to enter, but to deliver a little love letter, from yours truly. It's pure, untainted, but marred with a wanton longing in just the right place. How fitting.

Keigo pulls back. “You had a little, ah,” he gestures to his lips, “milk mustache.” You can only laugh at his silly antics.

He finds it hard to fathom how someone as sweet as you enjoys drinking such a bitter drink. Quite a contrast, he notes. But it’s an essential element of the person that is you. And only the heavens above know how much he cherishes the being that is still nested happily between his arms right now.

After that episode, you start getting coffee more often, always the bitter kind, always Americano, whenever they had it. His fridge was bursting to the brim with bottled americanos, for those nights where all the cafes were closed, after breaking up 2 AM brawls. Keigo starts offering to go to the cafe more.

So begins the routine of getting coffee after every joint mission you had with him. Many a coffee kiss was shared, eventually leading up to a jar of coffee candies being stored on the big wooden desk beside the window. He would indulge in one whenever he felt like the world had gotten to him, or when it was just Keigo, his thoughts, and the open air. It reminded him of you, what with the only people eating them being both you and him.

Caramel macchiatos lay unseen on cafe menus as your preferences rub off on him. He abandons the icy surfaces of the sweet caramel and turns to the warm embrace of bitter americanos.

The universe seemed to be playing one of its great tricks on him right now. Trick or not, it’s one of the good things the universe has done for him. He doesn't know who to thank for it, but by all the powers in the universe will he grovel at their feet.

And like all of the good things that has happened to him, they are yanked away all too soon.

The bell on top of the door tinkles as a new customer makes their way in.

“Ah, Hawks-san!” the usual barista greets. But the swagger he usually walks with is replaced by a stony face and groggy movements. Is it because you’re not there? the barista thinks.

“Is (Y/N)-san doing good?” the barista asks, out of respect. But instead of his usual smile, Hawks gives him a glare that could burn the entire cafe, if he wanted to. Everything about him puffs up a little, but not in pride. Hawks's wings twitch a little. He reminded the barista, a zoology major, of a frilled neck lizard. Appearing big and bad to ward off its predators, to mask its feelings of vulnerability. A red feather makes its way around the barista’s neck.

“We don’t say that name anymore,” Hawks says. He raises an eyebrow menacingly. “Got it?” The barista nods frantically. Hawks takes the feather off.

“What would you like?” The barista's hands are trembling now, hands turned pale by fright.

Hawks gives him the look again. The barista almost collapses right then and there, had Hawks not averted his stare.

“I assume you’ll be having something—” the barista gulps, “something different?” Hawks nods.

“Ah, sorry. One...” Hawks gives the menu above a quick glance. His eyes spot ‘Caramel macchiato (Ice/Hot)’ written in bright blue chalk on the board, but they flit away just as quickly.

“Americano, please.”

✯ taglist (hmu to be on it): @differentballooncollection

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