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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years ago

Note

I'm reading too many fanfics and today I want something more cute than romantic, so I would like Stella with an S/o to be her personal butler who took care of her during her childhood and adolescence (bonus if S/o used to sing to Stella when she was a kid) . obviously the S / o must have a great preparation to be worthy of taking care of the daughter of the parents who were certainly one of the causes of Stella to be like this

Stella's personal Servant and S/O

You had spent years in preparation for when you would meet your mistress.

It was a common practice amongst the nobility.

You take a child from a lower house, train and raising them to become the personal servant to a child from a higher noble family.

You were of lower stock, your family heavily reliant on Stella's family, and being the youngest of your line, you found yourself chosen to be her servant.

Although the agreement basically surrendered one of there own to a life of servitude, it also brought prestige to there household, while also placing one of there own at the right hand of the next head of a powerful household.

Despite your years of training, you were still increadibly nervous upon meeting her, terrified you'd do something wrong and screw it up.

But much to your surprise, she wasn't some terrifying ice queen who could vapourise you with a glare.

She was just a girl. A young, normal looking noble girl. Seemingly not much older than you.

Your meeting was somewhat awkward, you being unsure how you should interact with her outside of the cold formalities you were taught.

Your relationship was an unusual one.

As while, yes you were her servant, you were also expected to be her closest allie and truest friend.

You were expected to take on every burden she had, to carry and guard them to the death.

A concept that hadn't fully registered in your young mind yet, but despite your age, you quickly acclimated to your new responsibilities.

You had, of course, been give training for your new duty, but much of it was learnt in the field.

You found yourself working into a schedule; wake up before her, get clean, have breakfast before waking her up at 7:30 sharp.

From there you would help her dress, something you were quite flustered about the first time around. Then you accompanied her to breakfast, then to her first lesson of the day.

You were often dismissed during her lessons, returning to her room to tidy up, or have her clothes cleaned.

It took time but eventually you were just as capable at cleaning and serving as any veteran servant of the household.

Now, initially Stella was quite... cold towards you. Treating you not much better than any other servant of the home.

But she did eventually warm to you, starting the night you heard her having a nightmare.

Much to her annoyance you had been moved into the room besides her, giving her 24 hour access to you, and you to her.

So you were easily capable of hearing her toss and turn in bed, her whimpers getting louder and louder. Until she awoke, with a scream.

You instantly shot into action, sliding into her room and pulled her into your embrace.

Holding her to your chest, you did your best to sooth her. Barely being a boy yourself you were quite inexperience with such things.

So you did the only thing you could, you sang to her.

You sung her the song your wet nurse used to sing you when you had a bad dream. Holding her for what felt like hours, gently singing to her until she fell back to sleep.

The next morning she insisted you call her Stella, unlike before when she demand the customary 'Lady' or 'Mistress'.

Not long after that she began addressing you by name. The two of you seeming to enter a level of mutual respect.

Similar events would happen several more times during your youth, each time you sang her the same song, holding her close and soothing her.

You brought up the nightmares to her parents, the two seemingly didn't care. Her parents just coldlt telling you 'They were something she needed to get over herself.'

And her parents weren't the warmest family, both her parents seemed obsessed with there appearances, placing politics over the well bing of there own daughter.

So you made her well-being your top priority, always asking if she was OK or if she wanted to talk.

In preparation for you new duties you had already received extensive training in everything from cleaning to first aid.

But as the the two of you grew, you began getting lessons in far more hands on fields.

As you were expected to be her faithful guardian. You were trained in various forms of combat, with everything from knives, to assault rifles.

Followed by several specialised first aid courses, each one dedicated to a different field of medicine.

You excelled through each course, taking the role as both servant and protector as your own.

Despite being younger then your charge, your mentality quickly matured beyond your years, willing and prepared to fight to the death for your charge.

You fully embraced you postion, putting aside everything you were and giving yourself to your new role, absolutely.

As the two of you grew older, you also grew closer and closer. And due to your special status as her personal servant, having less limitations put on you then a regular servant of the house, you could act as more of a friend to the girl. Acting as a trusted confidant for the girls troubles.

As you matured your skills, both physically and mentally, you learned to better dedicat your new skills to what would most efficiently aid your liege.

While you excelled in your training dedicating your self to the task before you, the main problem you faced was, Stella.

It may seem petty, but Stella being of a higher and more powerful cast meant she grew to tower over you by at least a foot.

Something she was sure to rub in your face.

And it may not seem like that big of a deal, but protecting someone much taller then you, was a constant struggle. As they were far more visible then yourself and could be targeted from angles you weren't able to see.

But you did your absolute best, going above and beyond as her steadfast companion, hapily waiting on her hand a foot.

It seemed like a blink if an eye and the beautiful young lady you once served had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And much to your shame, over the years spent together, you had developed a deep affection for her, an affection that went far beyond friendship.

Of course you would never publicly admit such a thing, your years of training alloweing you to keep such your feelings suppressed. Only allowing your affection to show through in what would be expected of a typical platonic relationship.

When Stella came to the age of 17, her parents decided to send her to an academy famous for its education of young noble women.

The problem was, it was an all girls academy. And you being her private servant, and right hand, the two of you could not be sepperated for such a long period of time.

It took a fair bit of political manoeuvring and more then a few favours to get you in, but by the end of it, you found yourself enrolled right besides her.

You were to attend every class as well as share quarters with Stella. You were not to leave her side unless absolutely necessary.

You were far from the only servant to accompany there mistress.

You found a variety of them, from Imps to hellhounds. You even saw a few succubus amongst them.

But the thing that really stood out, was that you were the only male, even amongst the staff.

Initially life at the academy went fantastic.

Stella, with her confident nature and families status thrived at the academy, easily rising the social ranks, making friends and allies.

The whole thing bringing a great sense of warmth to your black heart.

You stood back and proudly watched as she excelled amongst her peers, only having to step in to aid her in her day to day.

But unfortunately, problems did arise. And much to your shame, they were spawned from you.

Now, you had already received a fair amount of attention from the Student; Stares, love letters, lustful gazes. But you were there for Stella, the affects of there attention quickly dissipated as you focused on Stella.

Now you being a fairly attractive young man, in exceptional shape from years of work and being the only male in a school of a few hundred young hormonal women.

But initially, being Stella's servant stopped anyone from pursuing you, as relations with someone below them was punished severely by both the school and there families.

Unfortunately the question of who you were was quickly raised, Stella without much concern or thought, told them all about your special status as both a noble and a servant.

And that's were the problems really began.

You see, sleeping with another family's servant, was an excellent way to get yourself disowned by your family.

But a fling with a servant, whom was also a fellow noble... that could be tolerated.

You were greatly surprised to find just how tolerant the school was of such behaviour.

It would seem that despite there rather strict policy on student/Staff relations, that being pubished severely.

But the school was unwilling to take serious action against noble children for have relations amongst themselves.

It seemed they allowed the students to let out there rebellious phase in small ways, perhaps a method to help make them into proper nobles.

Needless to say, you had never been so happy you were Stella's servant.

You'd heard how some of them talked about you, and if Stella wasn't your mistress, your quite certain you'd be used as a tool for political gain, regardless how you felt about it.

Ironically, you found Stella becoming far more possessive of you, especially whenever someone began to show interest in you.

Now she had always been possessive of you to a degree, snapping at anyone who dared to treat you poorly or acted like you were supposed to serve them, something that happened quite often amongst nobility.

You liked to think it was her way of marking her territory, all the while showing you that she had your back. And with all the attention you were getting, it only made sense for her to be a bit more possessive.

Adding to your growing shame, seeing Stella becoming such a strong, confident woman had only strengthened your feelings for her.

In your mind, you had kept your feeling for Stella perfectly hidden. Only allowing your affection to show, through your friendly and platonic behaviour.

Apparently you were wrong.

Parties were surprisingly common on the school grounds, with a major party seemingly occurring at least once a month.

Stella being ever the socialite, was of course invited. The young lady flirtaciously telling you were invited as well. Following her to the party, you found a small herd of teens sipping wine from plastic cups, talking amongst themselves.

Playing nobility.

It was fun for the most part.

Everyone was dancing and drinking. And much to your surprise Stella was quite lax when it came to alcohol, drinking more than her fair share.

A little tipsy, she found you, demanding you dance with her.

Now you, on the other hand, did not party. You did not drink, you did not fraternise and you most certainly didn't dance.

You were her guardian, you were supposed to watch over her, not get drunk with her in some random dormroom.

But Stella ordered you, not having the will to refuse her, you complied.

You danced and drank and partied. And for the first time in your life, you let yourself he a teenager.

And you enjoyed it. You enjoyed being with Stella.

The mood quickly soured when, as Stella left to get a drink, some random girl grabbed you by the collar and rather aggressively tried to kiss you.

You were able to hold her back of course, even inebriated you were still strong enough to hold back a drunk teenage girl.

You were freaking out, unable to think of what to do, only for Stella to appear and violently rip her off you, beating the crap out of the her right there infront of all the other party goers.

She screamed at the girl, telling her to never touch what belonged to her again. Before without saying a word, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the party.

She dragged you into a nearby allyway, ranting and raving about how dare someone touch you, you belonged to her and she was sick of having to remind people.

Her words becoming progressively more possessive, you just half drunkenly stumbling your much taller mistress.

Raising the question of her increasingly possessive language, you saw her entire body shift.

Walking up to you, she pressed her body up against yours, effortlessly pinning you to the wall.

It was pointless to struggle, as even with all your training she was still stronger.

With eyes you had never seen before, she stared into your own and asked if you liked her.

You were both shocked and terrified, you were so sure you had been careful.

You sputtered something out, trying to hide your feelings before she cut you off with a passionate kiss.

She held you close as she told you all about how she knew you liked her, about how she knew you always held yourself back.

But she understood why.

You were left stunned when she told you the reason she knew why, was because she'd been doing the same. She confessed she had fallen for you, but like you, she had kept her feeling secret because such a relationshi wouldn't be "proper"!

But she didn't care anymore.

She was sick of keeping her feelings for you a secret, sick of watching other women get to speak and act freely while she was forced to hold her tongue.

She wanted you and she was going to have you, no matter what anyone thought.

She dragged you back to your dormroom, although it was more like a small apartment before dragging you to her bed.

Sitting above you she asked if you wanted this, unable to think of the right words you just gave her another passionate kiss.

The two of you spent the night together.

Your relationship was kept a secret for the rest of her time in the academy. The two of you agreeing it would be best and with Your position already giving you the best possible excuse to be close together.

Once you both graduated, Stella's parents tried to have an arranged marriage set up for her, hoping to achieve greater prestige for the family.

But much to your surprise, she blatantly refused.

Instead she using her new-found political connections and usurped her parents, taking the family name and the role of head of household as her own.

Her first act, openly declaring your relationship.

You were deeply relieved the outcry was very minimal, contained to only a few already outspoke critics that apposing her anyways.

And so you stood by her ever since. As bother her loyal protector and faithful lover.

Hey hey, this one was a challenge, but I still enjoyed it. If any of you have a request or want to submit a prompt, go right ahead. Check out my master list for what I won't write and go for it. Thank you all for reading.

#helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss x reader #helluva stella #stella #stella x reader

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part II "I will try"

Serie Masterlist here || Part I || Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter II - I will try

You hate waking up.

Because your bed is empty on the right side.

Grumbling slightly, you push the covers away from your body and get up, running your hand over your face.

It is therapy day.

After brushing your teeth and putting on a sweatshirt that smells like fabric softener, you walked downstairs.

"Good morning, honey." Your mother greeted you as soon as you entered the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hands. You mumbled the greeting back, walking over to the cabinets. She let out a disgruntled exclamation when she saw you take out a box of cereal. "As much as I think it's great that you're eating again, why don't you try something healthier today? I'm getting worried about the amount of sugar you're taking in these last few days."

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed as you put the package back in the cupboard. Ever since you regained your appetite, your meals, especially in the morning, consist of sweet things. Bread, cereals, and even chocolate. You were eating again, but the chance of diabetes was very high.

"Do you need a ride?" Your mother asks a moment later, when you are already sitting at the table, pouring yourself some orange juice.

"Agatha thinks I should try the subway."

"And what do you think?"

You laughed humorlessly.

"That's a new one." You retorted without taking your eyes off the newspaper in front of you. "Someone asking what I think."

Your mother sighs.

"Don't be like that." She says and then rises to kiss your forehead, the car keys in her hand. "Call me if you need anything."

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from whispering the words "I need my wife," because you didn't want to cry over coffee.

After eating, you looked around. You hated empty houses. So you hurried to get your wallet and left after locking the door.

//-//

With headphones, the subway was not so scary.

The music on the latest volume muffled the ambient noises very well. And even with a fast heartbeat, you managed to walk correctly, and keep your breathing under control until you reached the city downtown.

You walked from the station toward the building where the therapy was taking place, humming softly the music you were listening to.

Startled slightly when someone touched your shoulder, you turned, only to see Bucky standing beside you, smiling gently. You took off your headphones, moving away from his touch, he didn't seem to notice.

"I called you a few times, but I don't think you heard me under the headsets." He commented amiably. "I think we came from the same subway."

"Okay." You said simply, not knowing what to add to this conversation. Bucky smiled however, and you started walking side by side.

"You know, if we arrange the time, we could come here together next time" He says and you frown slightly. "I wish I had someone to laugh at my comments about the man in the cowboy hat who hangs out at the Sixth Avenue station." He jokes and you force a smile, trying to think of how to decline the invitation. But then you remember how Agatha insisted that you make new friends, and you are letting the words of agreement escape your mouth. "Really? I'm glad you like the idea then. We can meet in any of the first stations and come the rest of the way together."

"That'll be great." You mutter to the man who smiles contentedly.

When you arrive, Bucky waves to a few people and says he will say hello, so you walk into the gym alone.

You try not to feel so nervous about your first session with a therapy partner.

//-//

Stephen is almost late. He apologizes to everyone even though he didn't, saying that he had a minor conflict in traffic. You were already sitting in the circle, waiting for the meeting to start, when the other people came in and sat down.

Wanda sat in the chair in front of you, and you smiled awkwardly at her, who repeated the gesture before looking away from you to Stephen.

"I hope you all had a good week" Stephen began next. "Today I will be handing out the schedule of duo activities, and I expect all of you to accomplish these goals within six to eight months. Of course, no pressure." He jokes last, making the group laugh. You frown, because you are curious what kind of activities these are. "Jessica, take one and pass it to the side, please.”

Stephen asked handing some papers to one of the girls in the group who was sitting next to him. As each member took one, Stephen again spoke of the importance of communication between pairs, and how he would like to monitor everyone's progress closely. You stopped paying attention when the paper came into your hands, focused on reading the words.

Your hand rises in the air a moment later.

"Y/N, do you have a question?" Stephen asked as he interrupted his own speech when he saw your hand. You had your heart racing when you asked.

"It says drive a car here." You replied looking at him. "I don't... I don't drive."

You know that some members exchanged glances with each other, but you kept staring at Stephen.

"You can leave this activity for last. At the end of the treatment....

"No." You interrupted with a dry laugh, running your hands through your hair. "I'm not driving. I don't..."

"Would you like to share why that is?" Stephen asks tenderly, and you look around. Everyone looks at you curiously, and you feel your face heat up. Then you stare at the paper in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you try not to crumple the paper so hard as you tell it.

"My wife died in a car accident." You narrate, trying not to be bothered by people holding their breath for your confession. It was awkward to talk about it, and it was even more overwhelming to deal with the reactions of others. "I was driving, and... I can't anymore since the accident." You explain. "It's like I'm back in the car again."

You fall silent, unable to hold back your tears. The group says "thank you for sharing" next, startling you slightly. Stephen smiles at you as you look at him.

"Would you like to add anything else?"

"I would like you to tell me that I won't need to do that."

Stephen laughed. And then he denied it with his head.

"It's the opposite of that actually." He says. "I think you do need it. Maybe more than anyone else here."

You sighed, looking down. He spoke again after that, but you paid no further attention.

//-//

You swallowed your nervousness when Stephen called for the pairs to begin the first exercise.

Getting up and walking over to Wanda, you kept your gaze on the floor.

"We're going to try blind trust today." Stephen explained as he opened a small box, and began handing out black blindfolds to the pairs. He handed one to you. "You will blindfold your partner, and lead them around the gym for two minutes. And then switch who is blindfolded and repeat."

You blinked in confusion, taking one last look at the object in your hands.

"Right." You mumble, raising your eyes to the woman in front of you. "May I?"

Wanda hesitates a second, but then she nods. You turn around her, placing the blindfold under her eyes gently, and tying it to the back of her head. Wanda holds her breath momentarily, probably getting used to the lack of visibility.

" Can I hold your hands?" You ask softly as you circle her again, watching her blindfolded face. She looks... cute. The same second the thought hits you, you push it out.

"Yes." Wanda sighs raising her hands at chest height. You smile, interlacing your hands together.

"Well, we were in the circle, right?" You begin. "Come this way so you don't bump into the chairs."

Guiding Wanda through the gym, you stand close and with your hands interlocked so that she doesn't get scared of bumping into something. You catch a quick glance at Bucky, who was guiding his own partner as he passes your side.

Two minutes later, you exchange.

You hold your breath when the blindfold is on your eyes, but Wanda's hand is soft as she guides you around.

When you stumble slightly because you thought she said right instead of left, it's the first time in six months that you really laugh. It's short and quick, but it's a real laugh. Wanda laughs too, squeezing your hand lightly to get you back on the right path.

You feel a little lighter when the activity is over.

"I liked today." You comment with a shy smile after the meeting is over, and you and Wanda walk out of the place together. She smiles in agreement.

"Yeah, me too." She says. "Now we only have another twenty-four activities ahead of us."

You let out a nasal laugh, putting your hands in your pockets.

"About the homework, I can meet you when you have time." You start to say, remembering the information in the booklet, and how you probably had much more free time than a mother, and it would be kinder for you to follow whatever schedule Wanda had. "You can text me anytime you are free."

She looks slightly surprised at your words, and looks down at the floor a moment before speaking again.

"Actually, I'm free now." She says, and it is your turn to be surprised. Seeing your expression, she quickly adds. "But it's okay if you're not, or if you don't want to..."

"No, it's fine." You interrupt with a lopsided smile. "I can. I'd... uh... I would like to too."

Wanda nods frantically, and then you are silent for a moment, before turning shyly toward the street, walking side by side.

"What are we going to do first?" You ask looking forward. Wanda bites her lips, thoughtful.

"Are you hungry?"

Not much, but you don't tell her that. You just shrug, and Wanda smiles, saying that you could try the lesson of sharing a meal together.

This is how you end up in a cafeteria for lunch.

Wanda is sitting on the bench in front of you when she speaks again.

"So...do you want to have a normal conversation or do you want to follow the script of questions?"

You blink in surprise, and give a short laugh.

"Wait, is that for real?" You ask fiddling with your pockets, Wanda looks at you curiously. You take out the pamphlet you got in class, then read the back, and let out a giggle. "I hadn't seen that part. Wow, that would have been so helpful at so many times in my life."

Wanda smiles, watching you read the pamphlet.

"So you're not good at talking to people huh?"

You place the flyer on the table, looking at her.

"Are you?"

"No." She says shrugging. "Socializing has always been much more my brother's thing than mine."

You make a noise with your mouth in agreement, and Wanda's cell phone on the table vibrates. She lowers her gaze to the device, and lets out a light sigh.

"Speaking of him." She mutters as she raises her finger to the screen. She reads the notification, but does not touch the device again.

"I would like to have a brother." You count next, and Wanda looks at you. "I think it would be nice to have someone growing up together with me. Sometimes it's pretty lonely being an only child."

"I'll lend you mine if you want." Wanda teases with a smile, and you laugh lightly, looking away momentarily.

" How many siblings do you have?"

"Two." She counters. "Pietro is my twin. And the youngest is Lorna."

"How are they like?"

Wanda sighs, thoughtfully.

"Pietro is loud and nosy. And Lorna is blunt and judgmental." She says and you nod in understanding, but Wanda adds a second later, smiling, "They're amazing, really. Pietro is...very caring. He looks after the boys for me. And Lorna lives in Sokovia, but she's always calling and asking how we are, as well as visiting whenever she can."

"That seems nice." You reply. The waitress attends you two next, and after ordering, you both wait in silence for a while.

"Why haven't you asked me about my loss yet?" Wanda asks suddenly, and you look away from the wordplay that was drawn on the table to look at her with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I shared my loss with the group the week before you joined us." She counters. "You never asked me who I lost."

"Do you want me to ask?"

"I don't know." She replies staring at you as a mixture of confusion and surprise. "It's just... that's usually the first thing people want to know."

You nod looking away.

"Well, I just want you to tell me whatever you want to tell me." You say. "I know very well what that feels like. I don't think I could talk to any of the people I know without them asking me about Nat every time they saw me."

Wanda makes a noise with her mouth of understanding, and you fall silent again. She checks her messages next and makes a slight grimace, you can't hold your curiosity and let the words "everything okay?" escape your lips.

"Yeah, it's just... Monica." She sighs running her hands through her hair. She types something next, and looks up at you. "Monica is my brother's wife, She is... pushy."

"How so?"

"She just...she wants to help. But she wants too much, you know?" Wanda begins. "She has the best of intentions, but she just suffocates me sometimes." She counters by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you look at her intently. "She lost her mother when she was younger. And since... since Vis died she just... she wants me to talk to her about it. But I can't."

You nod in acknowledgement, hesitating between what to say next, because the mention of this Vis guy seems to have left Wanda quite shaken, as she quickly wipes a tear from running down her cheek. She forces a smile, shaking her head.

"Sorry about that. It's not the best thing to cry at our first lunch." She then remarks, and you smile shrugging your shoulders.

"Don't worry, I can cry at the next one and then we'll be even." You retort and Wanda laughs. You like the sound more than you should.

When your food arrives, you and Wanda thank the waitress and talk again the next moment.

"Accordingly to this, what is our first question?" Wanda asks you nodding lightly to the pamphlet you have left on the table. You eat one of your fries as you look at it.

You lower your hand to the paper, and then let out a chuckle as you actually read the questions.

" This is ridiculous." You observe, making Wanda look at you curiously. "All the questions are death related, see: If you died, how would you like people to remember you?" You read. "Or, what song would you like played at your funeral. My god, this is a joke." You grumble as you fold the flyer, and put it back in your pocket while Wanda giggles. You look back at her next. "I am decreeing that we will not talk about death on our outings, Mrs. Maximoff. It's a rule."

Wanda smiles at you, agreeing.

"Wanda." She then adds and you look at her with confusion. "You don't have to call me Mrs. Maximoff. Wanda is fine."

You smile, nodding in agreement.

"So, Wanda, where do you live?" You ask with interest in your voice, biting into your burger next.

"Queens." She replies. "Two blocks past Bucky's apartment, who lives in Brooklyn."

"You are friends then?"

"Yeah, he's the one who introduced me to the group." She explains as you eat together. She chews some of her salad before speaking again. "And you?"

"Staten Island." You retort. "But it's actually my mother's house. My apartment is in the Bronx."

Wanda doesn't pressure you to tell her why you are living with your mother. A part of you thinks she knows why, but you are grateful that she just waits for you to share what you want, just as you do with her.

"What do you work with?" she asks next, and you sigh, biting back a smile.

"Nothing at the moment." You say, and she frowns with confusion. "It's just that I write. I’m actually a writer. With a publisher and everything. But, I'm not writing anything right now."

"I don't think I've ever met a writer before." She comments with a smile. "Do you like it?"

You look away, playing with your fries.

"I used to." You confess, but not wanting to make the conversation sad, you quickly add. "What about you? What do you work with?"

"I own a flower shop." She tells and you let out a low exclamation, finding it amazing. "I haven't been going there much lately, but I like it. It's always been what I've wanted to do since I was little."

"I'd like to visit someday."

Wanda smiles, assenting.

You spend lunch talking about the most diverse subjects. It is the lightest you have felt in a long time. Wanda tells you about her family, you learn that she lives in a big house with her two twin five-year-old sons, Billy and Tommy, and that her father was spending time with her since she lost Vis, who you figure is her husband, because Stephen mentioned that you had things in common, and it's not hard to connect the dots, even if she doesn't talk about it.

She also tells you that Pietro and Monica are helping the flower shop to keep running, and that Wanda's children love to stay at their house because Wanda's niece, Luna, is the same age as the boys.

She tells you some of her tastes, and you do the same. You both smile when you discover that you used to study at the same college, but Wanda graduated a few years before you.

When you leave the restaurant, you are not quite sure how to say goodbye to Wanda, but you don't mind her kissing your cheek and telling you that she enjoyed her lunch. You enjoyed it too, much more than you expected. She nods and turns away, and it takes a moment for you to do the same.

//-//

You decide to fix the broken screen of your cell phone.

It is because you now receive notifications of messages from Wanda, and you want to read them correctly so as not to get confused with the locations of your meetings for group activities.

You also enjoy the company of Bucky Barnes now. The first time you went to therapy together, it's a little awkward because you didn’t quite knew what to say, but he was friendly and kind, and you learned to trust him. Soon it becomes easy to share and laugh at his jokes.

In the second week with grieving pairs, Stephen brings in question and answer games. You and Wanda do very well, because it is surprisingly easy and comfortable to talk to her. You don't have lunch together, but she invites you to have coffee with her the next day, and it is very nice to see her out of therapy for once.

In the third week, you cook together. Stephen contacts a local restaurant owned by a friend, which is closed for the day, and they lend their kitchen. You and Wanda try to bake some cookies, and as you work together, the job is decent. It is probably because Wanda is a much better cook than you, and you are happy to obey whatever she tells you to do. You have lunch together again, and you find yourself suggesting that you do this whenever possible, and Wanda smiles when she agrees.

In the fourth week, there are obstacle competitions in the group. It's noisy, and it requires physical effort, but it's fun. It's the first month, so Stephen wants to see how everyone is progressing. It's only when he talks to you that you realize all the positive changes that have been happening.

You have been eating properly, and going for walks. Your nightmares have stopped since you started texting with Wanda, because she is usually busy all day and can only text at night. There is still work to be done, because you still can't talk about everything. You are still not sharing as you should, and you haven't gone back to work. But Stephen is proud, and he hands you a little progress brooch.

"I think you guys can start with the activities outside the group." Stephen suggests as soon as you accept the brooch.

"What do you mean? We have lunch together every Wednesday." You count, and Stephen laughs through his nose.

"Yes, and this is excellent." He says. "But it's still after therapy. You and Wanda have been getting along well haven't you?"

You think about the lunches. Yes. It's been amazing. You nod in agreement, and Stephen smiles.

"Why don't you invite her over for something on the other days of the week?" He suggests and you frown thoughtfully. "You could try outings that you both enjoy. Or just get to know each other's family."

"Why would we go and meet each other's family?"

"Friends do that." He says and you sigh, feeling your heart racing slightly. "Take Bucky for example. I suggested that he and Sam move in together and..."

"Wow, I'm not moving in with anyone."

Stephen laughs, touching your shoulder gently.

"I didn't tell you to do that." He says. "It was just an example. What I mean, is that socialization outside of the therapeutic environment is essential. I'd like to see you having fun excluding the activities I put on here, too."

You sigh, agreeing. It's not really a bad thing, you like Wanda. It's just weird to let people into your life again.

When you tell Wanda about Stephen's idea, you get too anxious and fumble with the words. She laughs as she raises her hands to your shoulders, asking you to breathe and repeat. She thinks the idea is very good when she understands.

Then the next week, you go to Central Park. You walk together, drink juice, and talk. You thought you would make things awkward, and not have anything interesting to say to keep Wanda's attention, but she is kind and thoughtful, and pays attention to every word you say, and finds your jokes funny. And the next thing you know, you've been talking and walking for six hours, and she has to run because she has to pick up the boys from music class.

It didn't take long for you to establish a rhythm of outings. At least twice a week outside of the therapy day, you did something together. Be it walks, or trips to the park, or sharing a meal.

You didn't want to admit it, but Wanda became your favorite person very quickly.

//-//

It was February when you met Wanda's family.

Wanda invited you to the birthday party of Luna, Pietro's daughter. It was going to be the first party you had attended since Nat's death, and to say you were feeling anxious was an understatement. But as long as Wanda was by your side in the atmosphere, you thought you would be fine.

Your mother gave you a look of mixed surprise and pride when she saw you leaving the house in an outfit other than a sweatshirt, but she didn't say anything, and you hurried to catch the subway.

It took a while to get there, but when you did, there were already a few people around the house.

You took a deep breath, and walked to the front door that was open. It was a very nice house, and you tried to find Wanda as quickly as possible.

"Hey, you came!" It was Bucky, who saw you arriving from the kitchen. He was wearing a very nice set of jeans, and smiled encouragingly at you. The two people he talked to looked at you curiously, but Bucky hurried to introduce you as "a good friend of his and Wanda's" and you felt your cheeks blush. "This is my husband Sam and this is his sister, Sara."

You smiled politely as you greeted people.

"I'm looking for Wanda." You say to Bucky, and he makes a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

"Try the garden, I think she was helping Pietro with the snacks." He says as he puts his hand on your shoulder, and turns you in the right direction. "Follow straight this way and you'll get there."

You thanked them and waved to the other two before heading outside.

It took two minutes to find Wanda. She found you actually.

"Hi." She greeted you shyly with a smile as she approached. You mimicked the gesture. "So glad you could make it."

Wanda hugged you quickly, and you were a complete mess. Disguisedly, you smiled awkwardly, telling her you were glad to be here and wished you could meet her brother.

"Pietro is upstairs changing Luna's dress. She spilled juice on the other one." She counters and you mumble in understanding. Wanda's gaze races around and then she lets out a low exclamation. "Come, let me introduce you to Monica."

"Hey, Mon, I want you to meet someone." Wanda says as soon as you two reach a woman at one of the outside tables, wearing a very pretty blue dress. She seemed to hand out some napkins on the table.

"This is your mystery friend I imagine." Says the woman cheerfully, extending her hand to greet you.

"Hi, thank you for having me." You say clumsily as you accept the greeting. Monica doesn't mind your clumsiness one bit, and smiles, and thanks you for the small package you hand her. You were always taught that one should bring a gift if you were going to the party after all.

"It's so nice to finally meet you honey." She says smiling. "Wanda won't stop saying how funny and entertaining you are."

You cast a glance at Wanda, who just has red cheeks as she looks away.

"Here comes Pietro." Monica then exclaims, waving to someone behind you. "Come on babe, it's Wanda's friend."

A tall man approaches you, a little girl on his lap wearing a princess dress.

"Hello." Pietro greeted you politely as he stood at his wife's side. "We finally met you. We were beginning to think Wanda made you up."

You let out a half-hearted laugh, and Wanda grumbles that suddenly everyone has decided to tease her with flushed cheeks.

"Daddy, can I go play now?" The little girl asked. She was adorable, and looked a lot like her parents.

"You'll be careful, right?" Pietro asked her. "No other princess dress for you."

The girl nods and Pietro sets her down after kissing her cheek.

"I need to greet the other guests, but make yourselves at home." Monica then said, touching your shoulder lightly before leaving. You thought she was very gentle.

For the next few minutes you were basically interrogated by Pietro, but in the most polite way he could manage. Wanda stayed by your side though, so you didn't bother to tell him what you did for a living, where you resided, or with whom. He was sensitive enough not to ask about who you lost, and you were very grateful for that.

"What's he doing here?" Wanda exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Pietro's talk about his job as a seller. She had her gaze in the opposite direction from where you were standing, and Pietro sighed.

"Wanda, it was a last-minute invitation." He began, and Wanda turned her head to him quickly, a mixed look of anger and hurt. But then she took a deep breath, and forced a smile, making you frown at the whole scene.

"No, Pietro. It's okay." She says. "Don't worry, it's a party, isn't it? We're here to have fun."

A man with a thinning beard reached you all next, and you were slightly surprised when Wanda grabbed your hand, but you didn't say anything.

"Wow, it's amazing to see you guys again." The man said smiling encouragingly. Pietro rushed over to hug him quickly.

"Good to see you too, Tony!" he greeted smiling, but he also looked slightly tense. You didn't know what the story was there, but clearly Wanda was not very comfortable in the stranger's presence.

"Wanda, look at you, my little sister-in-law!" Tony said excitedly extending his arms. But Wanda didn't move, squeezing your hand lightly. The man didn't seem to mind, moving forward and hugging Wanda anyway. He pulled away quickly however, still smiling, "And who are you?” He asked you next.

"I’m..."

"Leaving." Wanda cuts you off, ducking her head as she pulls you away with her. You hear Pietro sigh lightly, imagining that he would apologize for whatever this was.

As you two walk back into the house, you consider asking, but Wanda is looking around, clearly searching for someone. She lets out a low exclamation when she finds Bucky in the living room.

"Hey, Wanda." He says as soon as he sees her. "You've seen him, right?"

"You knew he was coming?" she asked, letting go of your hand, looking annoyed. You were starting to get very uncomfortable.

"Yes." Bucky confesses looking upset, and Wanda lets out an exclamation of indignation and surprise. "I told Pietro that it wasn't a good idea, but he still needs help with the Vis business..."

"No." Wanda interrupts by closing her eyes momentarily. You blink because she seems on the verge of tears at any moment. "I just..." She starts and takes a deep breath. Bucky steps forward with his hands in the air to touch her, but she forces a smile, denying with her head to signal him not to. "We're not going to make a scene, are we? Nobody's going to want that. I just... I just need a moment."

Wanda walks upstairs next, leaving you and Bucky behind. You really didn't understand what happened, and started to consider going after her, and as if reading your thoughts, Bucky patted you on the shoulder.

"Leave her alone for a few minutes, okay?" he asks. "She just needs to get used to the idea of seeing her late husband's brother again."

You swallowed dryly, nodding in understanding. Bucky smiled weakly at you, nodding for you to join him in the small circle of people he was talking to earlier.

//-//

Every minute without Wanda at your side with a bunch of strangers was like torture. Your heart was racing and you thought you were going to hyperventilate at any moment. Bucky was probably the only thing familiar, so you stood static next to him, trying to disguise yourself as much as possible while listening to people talking.

"Thor, I'm waiting for the invitation to your wedding!" Sam joked in the middle of the wheel, drawing laughter from everyone. The tall, blond man next to him looked mildly embarrassed.

"Tell that to Jane, she's the one who's postponing it." He replies in the same tone. You don't want to hear about engagements and weddings. So you mutter to Bucky that you need to use the bathroom and he points you in the direction.

Pietro's house is easy to get lost into. You are looking for a secluded corner to stay in, and as you pass through the empty hallway, you hear a noise that attracts your attention. It sounds like loud breathing.

Confused, you walk toward the sound, carefully opening the door to what appears to be an office. You find the switch, and your eyes widen in surprise when you find a child. It is a small boy, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. It takes a second for you to realize by the height of his breathing what is happening.

Closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the party, you rush to kneel beside the child.

"Hey, kid." You whisper tenderly but he just sobs. "What's your name? Hey? Try to say your name for me okay?"

You bring your hands to his and he raises his head, his face stained with tears as he breathes hard.

"T-Tommy" He gasps and you nod, squeezing his hands lightly.

"Okay, Tommy. I want you to breathe along with me now okay?" You ask as you signal with your hand the movement of your breath. "In and out like I'm doing."

"I-I can't." He cries, but you insist, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Tommy, in and out. This way." You repeat firmly, until he imitates. "All right, kid. Keep going. Breathe."

When Tommy manages to start breathing properly again, you smile at him. "You see, you did very well. Want me to give you a hug?"

He nodded, and you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. He didn't let go for long moments, and you began to think he might have fallen asleep, but he moved again, and you let go.

"I'm sorry." He asked weakly, and you held his hand.

"No, honey. It's okay." You say gently, crossing your legs to sit more comfortably in front of him. "Do you want me to stay here with you?"

He nods, looking at you quickly. You wipe away his tears afterwards.

"I don't know you." He says a moment later, and you smile slightly.

"I don't know you either."

"My name is Tommy." He replies with his hands folded in his lap. "This is my aunt and uncle's house, but I've never seen you at a party before."

"Wow, you are Wanda's son." You realize with surprise. Tommy blinks.

"Who is Wanda? I'm Mommy's son."

You laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, Tommy, your mother's name is Wanda." You explain, and he lets out a sigh of understanding. "I'm her friend."

"Okay." He says simply. He sighs lightly then. "I'm hungry."

You look at him curiously.

"Do you want a hot dog?" You ask, and he nods frantically, smiling. "Do you want to go outside and get it, or do you want me to bring it for you here?"

Tommy is thoughtful for a few seconds, and looks at the door for a moment.

"I want to go."

"Okay."

You get up first, and then help him to stand, and keep your hand in his to comfort him.

"Hey, is everything all right?" You ask as soon as you open the door. He has his thumb in his mouth, but nods, his eyes attentive to his surroundings.

Fortunately the kitchen is empty, since the house seemed to get warm enough for everyone to go outside. You sit Tommy down at the kitchen counter and prepare a hot dog for him.

"Do you like ketchup?" you ask and he nods smiling. After handing the hot dog to him, you made one for yourself. You smiled as you both took big bites of your food. "Does your mom let you drink soda?" You ask a moment later, and Tommy looks thoughtful. "Don’t lie."

Tommy grimaces mischievously, and nods his head in denial. You laugh and reach for two glasses, pouring some grape juice for you.

"Thanks." He says thank you as soon as you hand him the cup. You think it's adorable how polite he is at this age.

"There you are, Tommy." Pietro spoke as he appeared in the kitchen. He watched the scene with curiosity. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Murmured the boy lowering his head. "My head was hurting again."

Pietro sighed and you exchanged a look with him. He nodded in understanding before helping Tommy down from the countertop.

"Billy and Luna are eating candy in the backyard, honey." He says as he bends down to the boy's height. "Go ask Aunt Mon to give you some too."

Tommy seems content to leave after that, but he turns and hugs your legs quickly, muttering a "thanks for the hot dog" before running outside. You place his cup of juice in the sink along with yours before turning to Pietro.

"Where did you find him?" he asks leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. You mimic the position on the opposite side.

"In the office down the hall." You count. "What does he have?"

"We don't know yet." Pietro says. "He won't turn six until November, and the diagnosis can't be made before then." The man explains, running his hand through his hair for a moment. "But I've had anxiety since I was a kid, so his doctor thinks it's the most likely possibility."

You grumble in understanding, biting the inside of your cheek.

"He's been pretty nervous lately." Pietro continues next. You don't want to interrupt him. "I guess that makes sense. I got worse when my mother died, too."

You swallow dryly, really not being intimate enough to know what to say next. But Pietro doesn't mind, he smiles, shaking his head and reaching up to pat you on the arm.

"Sorry, I don't mean to make the subject morbid." He comments humorously. "Thank you so much for helping Tommy. Come have a drink outside."

You laugh half-heartedly, denying with your head.

"Thank you, Pietro." You say. "But I think I'd better go."

Pietro blinks in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your gaze quickly going to the stairs before returning to him.

"Yes, I'm... I'm tired." You say. "Crowded environments are quite difficult for me."

Pietro nods in acknowledgement, and then smiles, thanking you again for coming and hugging you quickly.

You smile awkwardly before heading for the exit just as he returns to the garden.

Ignoring the urge to climb up the stairs after Wanda, you leave.

//-//

When you get home, there is a message on the refrigerator door from your mother, telling you that she is going out after work and that you shouldn't wait up for her. You grumble slightly, sending her a message to use protection, before leaving your cell phone on the counter.

After taking a shower and putting on the most comfortable and warmest set of sweatshirts you have, you go back to the living room, looking for some entertainment on the television.

It must be about eight o'clock at night when a knock at the door startles you.

You are surprised to have Wanda at your front door and she hesitates as soon as she sees you.

"Hi." You say.

"Can we talk?"

You make room for her to enter, closing the door afterwards.

Wanda stops in the doorway of the room, holding her purse tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you alone at the party." She begins and you look at her attentively, noticing her nervousness. "It wasn't polite of me."

You blink in confusion, but don't interrupt her. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back at you.

"It was not the right way to behave and I am sorry. I hope we continue to be grieving partners" She says.

"Wanda, why are you here?" You ask with a frown, trying to understand exactly what you are witnessing. Wanda blinks in confusion.

"To apologize."

"Yeah I'm not buying it." You retort. "I don't care about the whole manners thing, I wouldn't treat you differently just because of the party. What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." She says shaking her head slightly, her eyes wide. You look at her in disbelief, she seemed on the verge of an outburst. "I just came to apologize for not being a good hostess, and not even a good friend. And..."

"I don't give a damn if you weren't behaving as you should." You interrupt seriously. "You don't have to pretend to be okay with me. I saw the way you were forcing yourself to smile during the party. What was all that about? Why are you pretending?"

Wanda let out a humorless laugh, holding up her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what..."

"If you're going to lie you can leave." You interrupt seriously pointing to the door. Wanda swallows dryly, looking at you in surprise. "I'm not like those people, Wanda. I don't want to see your version of the perfect housewife, who pretends everything is fine while it's falling apart so others will feel better. Either you tell me the truth, or we' re not going anywhere."

Wanda stares at you for several seconds, then looks away, tears streaming down her face. You sigh, uncrossing your arms to walk toward the door. As you begin to open it, however, Wanda rushes in and pushes the wood with one hand, the noise and movement startling you momentarily.

"Please." She begs throwing herself against you, her arms clutching around you as she buries her head in your chest, her tears wetting your shirt. "I can't lose you too."

You sigh, hugging her back in the same intensity to calm her.

"Breathe, Wanda." You say. "I'm right here."

When she stops crying, she breaks the embrace, and you give her a smile even though she is looking at the floor. You bring your hands to her face to wipe away her tears, moving closer to give her a kiss on her forehead before pulling away.

"Let's have some tea."

As you prepare the drink, Wanda sits down on one of the stools in the kitchen. You join her after lighting the fire.

"Do you want to talk now?" You ask next, swinging your seat slightly. Wanda gives you a weak smile, nodding her head. She sighs before she begins.

"My husband died last year." She counters with a lost look on her face. "That man at the party...his name is Tony. He is my brother-in-law. He... My husband died in an accident. He..." Wanda paused, probably overwhelmed by the memories, you reached out for her hand on the counter, and she sniffled before continuing. "Tony is an alcoholic. He...he needed someone to pick him up. So he called. And Vis... They... They argued outside the bar, and someone thought Vis was a cop. And then someone had a knife and..." Wanda stopped in a sob, releasing her hand to cup her face. You stood up, hugging her by the shoulders, and she buried her face in your neck, crying heavily.

"I'm sorry." You sighed, squeezing her. Wanda cried, hugging your waist. You only let go when the kettle beeped.

She wiped away the remaining tears as you went to turn off the fire.

"Do you want to go on?" You ask as you join her again, holding her hands. Wanda gives you a tired smile, denying it. "Let's drink our tea, then."

//-//

"Can I sleep here?" The question doesn't surprise you. After you had finished drinking tea, and you tried to distract Wanda with some small talk, you stood up to take the mugs to the sink, and her voice invaded your ears with the question.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but when you turned around, you didn't hesitate to agree.

And that's how you ended up in your closet doorway, looking for extra pillows.

Wanda walked around, observing your room with curiosity. You mentally thanked your mom that it had only been two days since her monthly cleaning, and your room was not messy.

"Who is this?" Wanda asks as she holds one of your frames in her hand. You have an extra comforter in your hand as you walk over to her to look at the picture.

"This is Bruce." You say looking at the photograph for a moment. Ignoring the wave of guilt that fills your stomach, you walk over to your bed. "We've studied together most of our lives. And the girl next to him is Carol, she was my maid of honor."

"Are they the friends you don’t talk to anymore?" Wanda asks as she returns the picture to the headboard. You mumble in agreement.

"Done, Wands." You say as you place the comforter on the bed. "You can have my pillow, I'll use the cushions on the sofa anyway."

Wanda frowns in confusion.

"Aren't you going to sleep with me?" She asks and you laugh in surprise, feeling your heart race.

"W-what?"

"I thought..." She starts and seeing your reddened face she looks away, clearing her throat. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, really." You assure her with a smile. "I'll be downstairs and if you need anything you can wake me up."

"Y/N..."

"Good night." You interrupt with a smile, moving closer to place a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and leaving the room, your heart racing.

You haven't slept in the same bed with another woman in many months. That is absolutely not going to happen tonight.

When Wanda finally lies back against the sheets, she grumbles softly. Your scent is everywhere, and she knows very well what it means when her body shivers and she feels a small warmth at the pit of her stomach. Pushing these thoughts away, she closes her eyes, hoping that the tiredness of the day will be enough to make her sleep.

#sorry for your loss #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff reader #wanda maximoff you #marvel imagines

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kashi-prompts · 4 years ago

Note

Kakashi and y/n have feelings for each other and one day, they end up getting drunk and having sex. The two pretend that that night never happened. Months go by and y/n discover that she's pregnant but since she doesn't know about Kakashi's true feelings, she panics and decides to hide the pregnancy from everyone. From this part is a bit from your choice. She loses the baby after getting injured in a battle (mission or war) and Kakashi discovers about her pregnancy. Thank you for reading! 🥰

A/N: yo, I’m back lol I know it has been a really, really long time but I frequently check this page and am AMAZED at everyone’s kindness towards my posts. Thank you so much for reading. You have no idea how much it means to me. So here is a really long prompt that I hope you like. Feedback is welcome <3 I’ll try to write more prompts soon.

* * * * *

Rating: M

Pairing: Kakashi x Reader

Genre: ANGST. And fluff at the end lol

The shuffling of paper roused you from your sleep.

Your head was throbbing. Your eyes pulsed behind your lids and your stomach stirred irritably. Groaning, your body tensed in soreness as you tried to move.

Where am I? you thought. distantly These sheets didn’t feel like yours, nor did the pillow under your head. The smell in the air was lighter than it was in your apartment and the light shining on your eyes from the early morning sun didn’t seem to be at the right angle if it were your apartment.

Bargaining with yourself, you opened your eyes and inhaled a yawn. The blur in your vision dissipated after a few blinks and you looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Your chest quivered as everything from last night came swarming back to you in one fluid thought.

Feelings of guilt and fiery emotion overwhelmed you..

“Good morning,” you heard near you.

You sat up, realizing you were nude underneath the green comforter. You pulled the blanket up passed your chest, covering your breast as you looked over.

The Rokudamine sat across from at his desk and you realized where you were. His silver hair was getting long, large strands falling in front of his eyes. You weren’t used to seeing him with both eyes open, but after the war it was his new normal. He looked up at you, his expression soft as he set down the ink he was signing papers with.

“Good morning,” you said quietly, shaking your head once you realized the world was moving a bit. You didn’t know which was worse, the nausea from the alcohol or the nausea from the realization of what happened.

“How do you feel?” He shuffled some of the papers. You were surprised by his causal tone.

“I’m - fine,” you managed. “But -”

“Don’t worry, I feel like garbage as well.” He muttered, raking his fingers through his bangs to push them away. He sat back in his chair. His complexion was certainly paler than usual.

You looked away and closed your eyes.

The celebration, you remembered. You had successfully returned from your first S-rank mission with your team. You had stayed back after your team left, wanting to ask the Hokage for feedback. A meal was offered and a drink was shared, maybe two. No, it had to have been more than two.

You thought of the two of you tossing in the sheets the previous night. Images of tangled limbs and sort, sweet kisses made your stomach burn.

What a strange relationship the both of you shared, you thought as heat swelled on the back of your neck. The attraction was certainly mutual, yet neither of you had been willing to risk it. There were moments when both of you had come close. Small, intimate moments before he had become Hokage on the training grounds and on missions. A hand that had touched yours perhaps on accident while you were both sleeping on a mission, or a gaze that had lasted a few beats too long. Regardless, things had changed before they were even able to begin when he had become the Hokage.

But now? How had you ended up here?

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said glancing up as he reviewed another scroll. “If I don’t wake up to finish this, it will never get done.”

“I understand,” you nodded. The awkwardness hung in the air. He looked up, putting his papers down.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sitting back. He looked exhausted.

“I’m fine,” you felt unwanted and just awkward. How could he pretend this was normal? You stood, starting to get dressed from yesterdays dirty mission clothes. You pulled on your clothes quickly, feeling embarrassed. Did he use you?

“[y/n],” you felt a hand on your upper arm. Your stomach flipped at his touch. You turned, and your eyes met his black ones. The both of you stood there for a moment, his gaze looking down at yours. You felt a blush creep up your neck and your skin prickled. He reached up, moving a strand of hair from your face with a gentleness that surprised you.

His somber expression and tender touch didn’t seem to match.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, searching your face.

“For what?” you asked, confused.

“For last night. We - we shouldn’t have done that.”

A moment passed.

“I know,” you managed. His hand trailed down your arm and away.

“I didn’t mean for this all to happen,” he said, “it was my mistake. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation. I need to... remain professional.”

“Why?” the words came out of your mouth before you even thought about it. Despite the fact that you knew this couldn’t work, you were still hurt with his agreement. “You don’t really think that.”

He pressed his lips together under his mask, “you know why.”

“No, I don’t. Please explain it to me. I am not your student, I am not another kage, I am just a regular Jonin in the village who used to be your teammate. So please, explain to me why we can’t... why we can’t-” you couldn’t get the words out.

He shook his head, turning around to head back this desk. Was he going to ignore your question. You picked up more of your clothes, following him over to his small desk.

“I don’t think last night was a mistake,” you told him with certainty. “I know you think we have something here. We could be something. I-I have had feelings for you and -”

“I can’t,” he finally said, turning around. His expression was stern, but it almost looked hurt. “I can’t risk losing someone else.”

“What?” you looked at him, exasperated.

“I am not going to put you at risk. People who are close to me are a target, especially after a war. I’m not going to risk -... I’m not going to risk losing someone I care about.”

So many emotions were floating around in your chest, you could barely breath. The nausea from the hangover and the overwhelming sensation of his words made your ears ring.

You were at a loss for words. His words were telling you to go, but his eyes said the opposite.

“Please, [y/n].” He said, almost desperately, “I don’t want to do this.”

You stared at each other, your heart pounding. Without saying another word, you picked up your sandals and closed the door behind you, leaving a very conflicted hokage alone in his quarters.

* * * * * * * * * * *

You avoided him and you avoided him often. The thought of him pulling his mask down in the heat of the moment and smashing his lips to yours would cause your stomach to twist.

Could you grieve over something that had never really happened?

The grieving of a relationship that never was had taken up most of your spare time. You laid in bed, feeling exhausted the majority of your day. After a few weeks, you still felt tired. You chalked it up as depression.

4 weeks had passed since your night with him. When you stood before him in his office with your teammates, you avoided his eyes. You knew he was watching you. You knew he wanted you to look at him so bad, to feel something for a moment. But you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Before a mission on week 5, you started to feel different. Nauseous for no reason and still fatigued. You pulled your new uniform over your head, but it felt tight. You turned in the mirror and ran your hands down your body’s silhouette. It seemed curvier. You narrowed your eyebrows.

The realization cause a cold sweat to break out across your body. Your ears were ringing as you ran over to your calendar, counting the days since the last X mark.

Your cycle should have started last week.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Pregnant?

How could you be pregnant? How could you have been so stupid?

You had tested yourself again and again after returning from your mission. All of them coming back positive.

You considered leaving the village. Would you still be considered a rogue ninja if you weren’t leaving on malicious terms? Could you disappear for 9 and pretend nothing was wrong?

Full panic engulfed your body. You could tell him and risk how upset he would become. If he didn’t want you, why would he want a baby?

You sat at the edge of your bed, wondering who you could even tell. Certainly they would ask who the father was? Certainly when the baby came out with a full head of silver hair, they would know. The whole village would know - the world would know. He would know.

You curled up in a tight ball, holding onto your legs. The air felt thick.

You just felt so guilty.

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

The pregnancy was something that you decided to ignore. You didn’t want to hurt your baby in any way - but your mind just wouldn’t allow you to pretend it was real. Even if it was for a second, you ignored it.

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

You were 16 weeks pregnant at this point. The only person that knew was Sakura and she swore she would not tell a soul. She wasn’t your friend, but she was a reliable medical ninja who took her job more seriously than some gossip.

She urged you to stop going on missions, saying that it was dangerous for both yourself and the baby. But you were one of Kakashi’s most reliable shinobi, his once teammate and you didn’t want to risk his suspicion.

This decision was a mistake.

On your missions, you created a jutsu that would protect your stomach from any threat.

However, on this day you didn’t account for how much chakra you would already be using.

“Look at this poor girl,” the notorious smuggler you were assigned to capture stood before you, your teammates holding your arm up as you fell to the ground. The baby growing within you drained most of your chakra on a daily basis, making it apparent that you were not the ninja you were previously. You could feel the barrier you created on your stomach disintegrating as your chakra levels vanished.

“So pathetic, these are the Leaf ninja the big Hokage has sent to capture us with, no?” Konamji snickered to his partner. Aoba, your teammate, held your arm and tried to pull you up. Your body felt like mush. Your foot slipped into the swamp that separated your team and the opponents and you quickly pulled it back.

Konamji smiled, his partner close next to him.

“Earth Style: Dragon Bullet!” Konamji and his partner yelled, their hands signs quick. A mud dragon appeared from the swamp and you quickly tried to get away. Aoba pulled you up, pushing you out of the way. The mud dragon smashed into the ground between the two of you, sending you flying across the grounds as the earth came apart.

Something smashed into your head.

You had cried out in pain, looking at Aoba across the way as he tried to make his way to you. You felt blood trickle down your forehead. Your vision blurred and you felt a searing pain in your abdomen as well. This couldn’t be happening. How could you have been so stupid - again?

“We have to get them,” you managed to Aoba, seeing him skid down on his knees next to you.

“They’re already gone,” Aoba told you, your vision going black for a moment before refocusing. “We can get them another time. You’re seriously injured. Shit.”

“My head,” you tried to tell him.

“I know, I know!” Aoba was frantic, trying to determine where you were bleeding. “HANA!”

“Aoba,” you swallowed, feeling yourself beginning to lose consciousness. Something was very wrong. “I need to get back to the village. Now.”

“I know, your head - it’s bleeding a lot,” Aoba searched his pack, looking around frantically for Hana.

“No, Aoba,” You closed your eyes, feeling the world moving underneath you. “I’m pregnant.”

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

“Aoba, Hana,” Kakashi sat behind his desk, his robe draped over his slumped shoulders. He looked up, his face tired. “Report?”

Aoba stood straight, his back rigid and mind blank with what he had witnessed.

“We were unable to capture the smugglers, Hokage-sama,” Hana stated, her gaze straight ahead.

“This shouldn’t have been a difficult mission,” Kakashi replied, his eyebrows pointed in surprise. “I imagined I could trust you all with a B-rank mission. Where is [y/n]?”

A heavy moment passed, “in the hospital, sir.”

If Aoba and Hana hadn’t shifted their gaze to the Hokage at that moment, they almost would have missed the second his body stiffened.

“What is her status?” Kakashi asked, his voice calmer than his appearance.

“She is doing better, sir,” Hana offered. “She suffered a serious head wound from Konamji and Hiroshi’s Dragon Bullet.”

“Dragon Bullet?” Kakashi tried to shift his attention back to the mission. “Such an advanced jutsu.”

“Hokage-sama,” Hana interrupted, “if I may, there is more regarding [y/n].”

Kakashi looked up, curious yet hesitant.

“She’s... pregnant, sir. 16 weeks. She should not have been on this mission.”

The room felt as though it had shifted beneath him. Aoba and Hana watched the color drain from the Hokage’s face, his eyes staring at them.

“Pregnant?” Kakashi repeated, his calm demeanor melting away. “Is she - is the baby - ?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

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

Your vision was blurry, but a silver head of hair was the only thing you could make out. You stirred, your head throbbing in pain. You groaned as your ears registered the constant beeps next to your head that was your heart monitor.

“[y/n]?” you heard Kakashi’s voice. You had never heard it sound so concerned.

You opened your eyes, looking over at the Hokage sitting beside your hospital bed.

“Where am I?” your voice was raspy.

“You’re in the hospital,” he said quietly. He looked at you, concern and a hint of fear in his eyes. “Hana and Aobe brought you back. You suffered a severe head injury.”

“Is - ?” you stopped yourself wanting to ask him if your baby was okay. But you couldn’t. “I need to talk to a doctor.”

Kakashi hand touched your head, pushing your matted hair out of your face. His face looked tired and pale. The slightest touch of his hand warmed your body.

“Listen,” he said to you softly. “the baby is fine.”

Waves of both relief and panic washed over you. Relief that the baby was okay, panic that he knew. You opened your mouth to try and say something but no words came out. His eyes met yours and he waited a moment.

“Is it -... Is it mine?” Kakashi asked. For the first time since the morning after you had spent the night with him, you saw vulnerability in the Hokage’s eyes. Quietly, you nodded, your head still resting on the pillow.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked finally, flickers of pain and joy in his eyes. You had never seen so many emotions on the notoriously calm shinobi. You knew him well, many years of missions together. This was a first.

“How could I?”

Kakashi shook his head, looking down and thinking to himself how this was his fault. He had pushed you away, not wanting to have a relationship. If he hadn’t done that, perhaps you would have told him and perhaps you wouldn’t have put your baby at risk. He felt his chest tighten.

“I’m sorry,” he looked up. He reached over, his calloused fingers touching yours. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” you asked, confused. “You should be the one forgiving me. I put this baby at risk. I was foolish.”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have pushed you away because of my own insecurities. I was afraid I would lose you, just like I lost everyone else.”

“That is why I couldn’t tell you,” you looked away. You felt his fingers twitch over yours. A few minutes pasted an no one said anything. You turned your head and looked away, feeling his gaze never leave you.

“[y/n]?” Kakashi spoke quietly. You turned, opening your eyes again. His gaze was soft as he took your hand in both of his.

“I want to be with you,” he said finally. It felt as though he had been waiting to tell you this secret for years. “I wanted to be with you since the moment I met you. But I couldn’t get past the risks of seeing death again. And now - I know this seems cliche - but now I feel like I finally have this sense -... that for the first time in my life this is the right decision.”

“What about -?” you started, feeling your chest tighten at his words.

“I was stupid,” he said shaking his head.“And I love you and I have for a long time. So if you’ll forgive me for being an idiot and not taking you when I should, I would like to be with you and be with this baby. I have a promise to protect this village, but I’m making a promise to protect you and this baby now. On my life.”

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

A/N: sorry, Kakashi has lost too many people. I couldn’t let him lose a baby :/ I know its super fluff and I don’t normally go for that but I’m in the mood.

Thanks for reading! <3

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

you’re my home

“why do i feel like jj would just love all the domestic aspects about being with charlie. like brushing their teeth together at night or watching her fold her clothes into the space he made in his dresser for her or watching her dance around the kitchen making coffee in the morning. like i feel like he would love the sense of home&simplicity he gets from those moments with her that he never got before from anywhere or anyone else”

inspiration from this ask ^ thank you :) this is just a set of little blurbs about what jj and charlie would be like living together!

wordcount: 2k

____

JJ wasn’t used to living with someone in such an intimate way. Sure, he had shared a dorm room with five other guys his freshman year, a sleeping dorm with way too many guys sophomore and junior year, and had the perk of a single bedroom in the frat house his senior year - but it wasn’t quite living alone. Living with John B in the summers wasn’t exactly the grown-up life he had envisioned as a kid, then after graduation, he moved into a pseudo-frat house with seven guys. The house was a constant mess and just plain chaotic, but it felt right - he didn’t think he was quite old enough to retire from the college lifestyle.

Once he got his job out in California, he moved in with Charlie and was quickly thrown into a world of home decor (apparently a hobby of hers he had never noticed). Lucky for her, he liked being handy and was able to help build a couple shelves and such and save a little money.

At first, they danced around each other a little. They made the abrupt switch from not seeing each other for months to living together in a matter of days, and it was an awkward exchange of being open about finances and squeezing past each other in the tiny bathroom to brush their teeth. But soon they found a groove, and JJ grew to love the pattern.

Though he would never, ever admit it, JJ was a romantic at heart. He insisted on music during dinner (“it sets the right ambience, Charlie”) and it always depended on his mood, carefully curated for the day.

After fumbling their way through a dinner recipe together, neither of them being skilled in the kitchen, Charlie insisted on starting on the dishes right away. “I don’t get why we have to do this instantly.” JJ complained, bumping his hip against hers. Charlie shook her head, handing him a dishtowel. “We’re trying to start a routine here. My parents always did it this way and it worked, so.”

“At my house we just used paper plates and threw them away. Or piled up the dishes for a few weeks and then finally scraped off the food.” JJ reasoned. Charlie just shot him a skeptical look, turning on the faucet. “JJ, I say this in the nicest way possible, but maybe we shouldn’t model our lifestyle after your childhood.” He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

After a few dishes, he grew bored and swatted her butt with the towel, making her yelp. “Can we finish?” She asked, giving him an exasperated smile. JJ reached over and shut off the faucet, taking her hands as Love You For A Long Time by Maggie Rogers drifted through his phone speaker. “No, c’mere. We have a dishwasher for a reason.”

He pulled her away from the sink, roping her into a waltz with a goofy grin. “J.” Charlie protested, but let him lead her into a twirl. “Hush, pretty girl, I’m busy dancing.” He replied, pulling her close. Charlie didn’t hesitate to rest her head on his chest, swaying in a steady circle with him. This became a regular occurrence - she always objected at first, trying to finish cleaning a few more things, but then gave in to his embrace.

JJ also learned there was nothing better than coming home to his person. Their work schedules varied, but most days Charlie was home first if she wasn’t working an athletics event. If he had a bad day, she could usually tell just by the way his texts were short and to the point. One time, after a botched client meeting, he came home and dropped his bag by the door, not bothering to say anything to her as she sat on the couch.

“Hi to you too.” Charlie teased, following him into the kitchen. “Hey.” He acknowledged, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry and pouring some onto a plate. “Long day?” She murmured, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He softened, turning so he could rest his chin on the top of her head, replicating the embrace. It was the sort of hug you could melt into, knowing you were safe in someone’s arms. “Love you.” He murmured, closing his eyes. She hugged him for a beat longer, then lifted her head to catch his lips. “Love you too, J.”

JJ grew into the habit of waking up before Charlie, partly because he was incapable of sleeping in on the west coast and partly because she was so damn cute when she slept. He learned to cook the basics for her, and always made sure she had a cup of coffee and some toast with scrambled eggs at the very least. (Pancakes were reserved for special occasions.) The first time he did it, he woke up her with barely enough time to get ready and eat. She was caught off guard and tried to show her appreciation, but had to do her makeup in the car that day. After, he learned to wake her up enough in advance.

The one time he overslept, he felt a weight on his conscience when he woke up to see Charlie already gone. She had to be at work early, but he had the day off, and they had stayed up til 3am last night after mutual agreements of ‘just one more episode.’ He woke up at 10am to a couple texts from her - snoozing in? and not gonna lie I’m hungry lol and immediately felt guilty.

He dragged himself out of bed, tugged on clothes and shoes, and drove down to their favorite coffee shop by their apartment, then straight to the UC Berkeley campus. JJ parked out front of her office and texted her, leaning up against the car. Charlie came out five minutes later, confused. “What are you doing here, isn’t it your day off?”

JJ held up a coffee and to-go bag with her favorite bagel flavor (that he had to practically beg the baker to make, since they were out). “You said you were hungry.” Charlie grinned, greeting him with a kiss. “You didn’t have to do this, hon, thank you.” He shrugged but filled with pride, knowing he was able to take care of his girl.

One day in December, Charlie came home in a bad mood. She let the front door slam shut behind her and barely acknowledged JJ in the kitchen before storming off to the bedroom, flopping down onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. Frowning, JJ stopped his cooking and followed her in moments later. “What’s wrong, did I do something?”

“No, you’re perfect.” She mumbled into the pillows. He paused before hesitantly reaching out to rub her back, unsure if she was being sarcastic. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He was surprised to see a few tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her head and curled into his side, resting an arm across his waist. “We got the bowl schedules today. I’ll be gone for two and a half whole weeks, including Christmas.”

“Oh.” He murmured before falling silent. With Charlie’s job as an athletic trainer with the football team at UC Berkeley, they had known she’d have to travel for post-season, but he never considered her having to be gone for so long. “Well, I’ll just buy a ticket, and I’ll come visit you on Christmas.”

She sniffled pathetically. “No, you have your tradition with the Pogues. You haven’t seen them in so long. And I’ll be so busy with work, I’ll hardly see you anyways.” Charlie sighed, a small pout on her lips. “My mom is gonna kill me.”

JJ frowned and pressed a kiss to her forehead before running a thumb over her lips. “How about...I go back to the Outer Banks, but I go to your place for Christmas dinner? I’ll check in on your family and everything. And then when you’re back, we can go home again or we can have Christmas with just us. Your choice.”

She lifted her head, biting her lower lip now to try not to cry more than she already had that day. “Really? You’d do that for me?” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her sweetly. “Of course. I know it’s important to you.” That was enough to break the seal and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of his neck again. “God, I love you.” He laughed softly and continued to rub her back soothingly. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

In the days leading up to her departure, he kept stealing extra glances at her as they went through the little motions of everyday life. Sure, they had been apart for nearly six months when they did long-distance, but now that they were back to seeing each other every day again, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle being alone. (He even picked up a habit of flossing just so he had another excuse to linger around her more as she did her makeup in the mornings.)

Before she left, he tucked little notes in the pockets of her suitcase and backpack, strategically hidden so she wouldn’t find them all at once. Once she was gone, he found himself texting her more than usual - just to check in - until she eventually had to tell him that no, she was not dead in a ditch somewhere just because she didn’t reply to his text within ten minutes.

At first he had fun with being alone in the apartment. He could do whatever he wanted and had some guy friends over, ordering pizza and played video games with the volume all the way up, kicking their feet up on the coffee table. But after a few days, he felt guilty that the dishes piled up in the sink and his shoes were left haphazardly by the door, so he made a point to tidy up - and proudly showed Charlie how clean the apartment was over Facetime that night.

He hated every bit of her being gone. He hated the empty side of the bed (so he slept with her pillow), he hated how quiet the apartment was, he even hated that the bathroom counter didn’t have her usual makeup and flat iron scattered across it. JJ had never been more excited to go home to the Outer Banks - not just to see the Pogues, but to see what he considered his second family too. He watched the football game at her parent’s house and had never been more excited to see her on the sidelines, even if it was only for a split second as the camera panned across.

When Charlie finally returned to Berkeley, JJ picked her up from the airport with a bouquet of flowers and the biggest grin on his face as she dropped her bags to jump into his arms. He hardly let her go a second without touching her, keeping his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the car and his hand on her thigh the whole ride home. He didn’t realize how much he missed her like hell until they were finally together again.

When they walked into the apartment together, he pulled her into another warm embrace, arms wrapped tightly around her and his face tucked into her hair. “My home is back.” He murmured.

She pulled back just enough to catch his lips in a kiss, grinning. “What do you mean? You’re in your home.”

He shook his head, grinning back. “It’s not home when you’re not in it.”

#don't mind me just being soft #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj x charlie #mine

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crystxlclear · 4 years ago

Text

sudden desire

chapter seven: mornings are for coffee and sexual tension

part eight of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / six / masterlist

synopsis: the morning after.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: the briefest and vaguest implications of sex (about as pg as it gets honestly), mutual pining (they’re oblivious idiots what do you expect from them at this point?), not beta’d

author’s note: i’ve not been in a good headspace lately and deleted my twitter app the other day to try and clear my head (✨a great move for someone who’s being crushed under crippling loneliness✨) so i feel like this really isn’t my best work, by a long shot, but writing this was the only thing that seemed to cheer me up, so we’re rolling with it! enough about me here’s the good stuff!

Some mornings beat her down. She’ll wake with a terrible wait on her chest and her head in a haze, and the day will stretch on in slow motion. Sadness and pain and upset stretching the hours for miles and miles. Those days, she hates to leave her bed. Her body feels too heavy to move from the mattress. But those days come far less frequent than they used to; every couple of months, when the rain lashes heavy against the window panes and the fog rolls over the river. Melancholia lingers like the smell after it rains and hoodies keep her together and the gazes away.

Others are rosy, honeysuckle sweet and tipped in golden sunshine. She’ll wake to the familiar smell of roses and fresh cotton, of cinnamon and citrus and the candles she’d burned the night before. She’s weightless as she rises, breezy dresses and peach lipgloss, and it’s like a never-ending summer, even when the weather turns frigid and she’s freezing in dresses made for the heat. Those mornings are mornings made for Marcus and syrupy sweet coffee in tiny coffee shops.

But some mornings exist alone; those mornings when anticipating hangs in the air, when change still has yet to set in. Mornings she doesn’t know how to feel when she wakes surrounded by her duvet. Mornings that can become the best or the worst of her life.

Mornings with Marcus over coffee in the sunshine are usually the best.

They’re filled with familiar laughter.

Coraline wakes to the sun streaming into her bedroom, bright, golden and insistent. The curtains are cracked open a little - disturbed and out-of-line, no longer drawn together like they had been when she’d fallen asleep - and the gap lets the warm morning sunlight in. A chill pulls through her; even as she tugs her duvet up underneath her chin for a moment. It’s thicker than it normally is, the weather proving to be much harsher than she’d ever anticipated it could be as Spring edges closer, and it’s even worse when she feels the bed beside her empty and cold. Coraline stretches an arm out over the sparse half of the bed, the sheets there cool, neat and frustratingly unoccupied.

Her heart sinks a little at the realisation.

Even if she isn’t entirely sure what she would have done if she’d woken up with Marcus by her side.

Marcus is a morning person, only allowing himself to sleep in on weekends . But Coraline is usually always the first one of them awake; the one who wakes him up with a text or coffee at his front door. He normally claims her to be ridiculously - and, she’s sure, annoyingly - springly in the early mornings, no matter what time she wakes, no matter how many hours of sleep she’s managed. It takes a while, and far too many cups of coffee, and she usually crashes in the late evening when things catch up on her with ferocity. She knows, this morning, Marcus has done the gentlemanly thing and left her to sleep in those precious few hours, before she has to wake up and head to the heavy load of interviews she has peppered throughout the day. But she really wishes he’d woken her, even just to say goodbye, before he’d left for work.

Coraline knows he’d never intended on staying the night. It wasn’t that kind of arrangement, they both knew that, but it had just happened. And, honestly, neither of them had been entirely made about it, either. He'd made a joke about how her bed was so much comfier than his and she’d giggled and yawned and tucked herself into the warmth of his side, without a second thought. Neither of them had complained about the closeness. Her eyes had grown heavy with sleep and her words quiet, and Marcus had traced patterns into her lower back until she’d fallen asleep a few moments later.

She digs a knuckled into her eyes to rub away the sleep that weighs down her eyelids and groans as she stretches out her aching limbs. Everything aches - even places she didn’t know could ache - especially her back as she lifts her head to glance over at the alarm clock. She’s utterly exhausted, the late night catching up with her, but she’s too worried she’s overslept to even think about going back to sleep. 8:04 blinks back at her in glaring white fluorescent.

Blinking up at the ceiling, laying flat on her aching back, blinking away the weariness that clouds her eyes, Coraline finally finds it within herself to climb out of bed. Some mornings, she can rarely leave the comfort of her blankets. The weight of something always seems to press down on her; sometimes, she doesn’t even know what that weight is. This morning is one of them. She groans when she stands and her feet touch the wooden floor. She stretches her limbs out, every joint in her body seeming to crack as she moves, and yawns so wide that she’s glad no one is around to see it. She’s sure she looks ridiculous on a morning - with wild hair and watery eyes and bright flushed cheeks - but, now, with no one around to see, she doesn’t care.

Coraline slips her glasses onto the bridge of her nose and shuffles her way out of the bedroom. Her father’s old Eagles shirt - the one she’d stolen from his drawers when she’d left for LA; the one that reminded her of her childhood and smelt so reminiscent of him - brushes the middle of her thighs as she moves. It was the first thing she’d grabbed the night before, still balled up at the foot of her bed.

She’s greeted by a sight she hadn’t expected to see when she steps into the kitchen.

The low, slow bubble of the coffee machine, followed by the rich smell of coffee beans. Marcus Pike stands, leant against the counter without a care in the world, with two mugs perched in front of him; one is Cora’s favourite — her Death Cab For Cutie mug — and the other is the old one with the chip in the rim Marcus had accidentally made when he visited her apartment the first time. She’d meant to throw it out, but it reminded her of him, and she’d always reach for her mug whenever he made coffee at hers.

She wishes she’d made an effort to make herself look presentable for him; he’s never seen her look so rough, and she hopes to god that her early morning appearance doesn’t scare him away. But it’s like she’s stepped into an entirely new world where it’s only the two of them left; no one else matters because they don’t exist. Coraline and Marcus are the only two people left in this world.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he calls cheerily at the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut behind her.

He doesn’t turn, just continues pushing the buttons on the coffee machine as he places her mug beneath, but she can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. She’s struck by how relaxed he looks. The whole sight seems familiar, somehow; he’s relaxed against the counter, his suit jacket and tie slung over the back of one of her chairs, and he’s humming some indiscernible tune quietly as she steps through the space.

“Good morning.” Coraline returns his greeting and leans her elbows against the island behind him. She watches him with a fond smile on her face. She can’t help it. Everything just seems gentle and wonderful, and she wouldn’t be against this becoming a weekly sight. But it wouldn’t - it couldn’t - and maybe that was for the best.

She’s staring.

She can’t help it. Her heart aches along with the rest of her body; she can feel it skipping in that awkward rhythm, fluttering like butterflies trapped between her ribs, along to the tune of the song he’s singing. A little out of tune but endearing, nonetheless. It’s a little embarrassing that she’s feeling this way over a friendship, of all things, and she knows better than to kindle that little fire within her that she knows will reach out and swallow her whole. She’s been burned by it in the past - so has he, more than she, unjustly and unfairly, and in ways no one should ever have to be burned - and maybe it’s better that they keep their distance from feelings that aren’t entirely platonic.

“I was going to wake you before I left,” Marcus calls back to her before he turns and offers her out the mug of coffee. “Didn’t seem right to leave without saying goodbye.” He leans back against the counter and he’s looking at her like he always does, like a best friend does, with a small smile and sparkling eyes and a friendly fondness that makes her feel appreciated each day. She’s glad last night hasn’t changed anything; if he’d been looking at her any differently, she thinks it might have broken her.

She’d expected things to be awkward and heavy. She’d fallen asleep hoping they wouldn’t, that things would be as normal as they are now, a repeated mantra in her head to remind herself that things don’t have to bear a terrible weight, but she’d expected inescapable tension in the air between them when they saw each other for the first time after what they’d done the night before. The terrible consequence of their agreement and how it would fall flat instantly when the realisation of their terrible idea sets in. Instead, the only thing that hangs between them is that easy informality that comes so easy to them, that her brother had joked about the night before. Maybe what they were doing was a terrible, ill-conceived idea - an idea that anyone else would think was utterly insane - but she’s glad it hasn’t tarnished the friendship that she holds so dear and is too scared to lose. Because he’s here, a gentle look on his face, making her coffee in her favourite mug. She doesn’t think she could ever get tired of seeing that damn smile. The smile that makes her feel so appreciated, so grounded, it’s so familiar and welcome and if she ever goes too long without seeing it she’s sure she would feel cold and brutally alone. He makes her feel at ease and, even despite her wild hair and sleep-kissed cheeks and the shirt that’s too baggy and slides off her shoulder, she doesn’t feel like so much of a mess. She’s forgotten the chill that had swept through her when her feet touched the freezing floorboards.

She’s staring at him again, staring like she’s trying to figure him out, a puzzle to her eyes, staring at the fond smile on his face that tugs gentle at his lips, and blinking back at him without a reply.

But his smile only grows at the sight of it.

“You didn’t have to make me coffee,” Coraline insists after a moment, placing the mug onto the kitchen island and letting her chin drop into her hands where they’re propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to the side when he grins and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m serious, you’re my guest. I should be the one making you coffee.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m a great friend.”

Friend. He really is a great friend.

Her best friend, the one person she really would dare to tell all her secrets to.

They’ve become so used to joking with each other, the lighthearted jabs and sarcastic comments, that it comes as second nature. But she still can’t help but roll her eyes as she chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee; it’s sweet and just how she likes it. She knows that an inevitable sugar crash will come in the late afternoon but it seems worth it.

Coraline runs her thumb around the rim of her mug idly, a distraction, she supposes. Manicured nails tinker against the cheap but long-loved ceramic. She’s half-sure Marcus is going to mention something about the night before — about what they did or what it meant to the feelings between them, or even when they were going to do … it again — but he never does. He just makes idle conversation from opposite her, too far away for her to touch but close enough for her to smell the lingering remnants of his cologne from the night before. It clings to the fabric of his shirt, to the curve of his neck. She’d recognise that smell a while away; sweet and strong and comforting, just like him.

“I should be heading back to my apartment,” Marcus announces suddenly. He places his empty mug into the sink and reaches for his jacket and tie.

Coraline can’t help but frown. “You’re not staying for breakfast?” She doesn’t know why she asks; not long ago, she’d accepted the fact that he’d left for work without waking her, now she wanted him to stay longer.

She thinks Marcus sighs, but it’s too quiet to hear, if he does. “As much as I would love that.” His eyes are soft - that surely unintentional puppy-dog look of apology that melts her heart and softens her soul - when he turns back to her, looping his tie around his neck. “I think people might notice if I show up in the same clothes as yesterday.” His shirt and jacket are wrinkled from where they lay on her bedroom floor all night. There’s an especially deep crease, stark grey against the crisp white fabric, that runs from the collar to the waistband of his pants.

Coraline sets her mug down and rounds the island towards Marcus. She smooths her hands down the creases in his shirt, trying to brush the wrinkles from his usually-pristine cotton before she bats his hands away from his tie. She can feel his gaze burning into the top of her head as she fiddles with the silken material, out-of-practice hands working the material like she does this everyday. She loves the simple domesticity of it all. It gives them both a moment to breathe.

“Cora-” His voice hangs low in his throat. “-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Marcus exhales deeply out of his nose and runs his hands up her arms. “You don’t have to,” he hums. “I can do it myself.”

“What can I say?” She smooths down the back of his collar and the knot of his tie. She tilts her head to look up at him. “I’m a great friend.”

She thinks for a moment he’s going to kiss her. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes; it’s intense and searching, and his brows are furrowed yet he’s smiling still. He holds her gaze for so long that she’s almost sure of it. That he’s going to kiss her despite their agreement that they’re just friends, nothing more and nothing less, and it’s still going to mean nothing because of the night before. Because they’re just friends and they know that.

But Coraline wouldn’t mind if he did kiss her.

“So handsome.” She smiles, after a moment of soft silence, patting his shoulders once she finishes knotting up his tie. So damn handsome it’s painful. The smile is sweet and saccharine, welcoming yet still dismissive of any romantic intentions. She really wouldn’t mind if he kissed her, but he can’t. She really wouldn’t mind if this was a daily thing, if every morning she could wake up to him and his gentle smiles, but she can’t. Coraline wonders if the timing was different - if they’d met some other time, some other place, before their heartbreaks or when the reluctance of moving on had waned - would it be more than a friendship? Cora knows that friendships like this are hard to find amongst the fickle fire of Hollywood relationships, and she’d be damned if she ever let him slip between her fingers.

She hears Marcus hum low in his throat when she turns to drop her empty mug into the sink. The water runs and the heater hums, and Coraline pays no mind to the way his gaze lingers.

Marcus watches her; even in her early morning muddle - shirt far too baggy, slipping from her shoulders, drowning her slightness in it’s black, worn material; hair a near-tangled beautiful mess, twisted against the nape of her neck and mussed up on the side where she’d curled up against his chest; rosy red cheeks, pink-flushed like the sky during the sunset; the smile on her lips, soft and lazy with sleep - he still think she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’d let himself drown in her beauty if he could, if there weren’t a life-preserver of past holding him above the calming waves. His brain placates his desire in the form of a platonic friendship and he keeps her close enough to quell the unintentional desire. Marcus rushed in headfirst and headstrong; somehow, this ill-thought out arrangement makes more sense than figuring what exactly it is that lingers between them.

They assume it’s friendship. That makes the most sense.

But he’ll remember this when it’s over - when the sleepless nights and exhausted days come and there’s this small, delicate thing that relies on them both just to get by - because how could he ever forget. He’ll remember her kitchen in the soft morning sunlight as the sun continues to rise and spills through the window, mellow unlike he’d ever seen it before, and he’ll remember the feel of her warmth at her side as she sleeps. Every fleeting moment he spends with her - between work and happenstance and everything that keeps them mindlessly busy for weeks on end - feels like a lifetime of teenage summers when friendship and sunshine are the only things that matter.

“Thank you,” he hums again. He pulls on his shirt jacket; it’s wrinkled, like his shirt, from a night spent crumpled on the floor. He’s glad his apartment is within walking distance and he doesn’t have to take the Metro looking as disheveled as he does. Anyone awake enough would realise why he looks the way he does.

When she turns back to him, she’s smiling wider than before. The coffee has cut through the sleepy haze she’s worn since she’d woken and the Coraline he’s used to - the Coraline with the sunshine smile, golden and bright, and the enthusiasm that sparkles in her eyes - is back. Though he realises he’s just as fond as both versions of her: the drowsy woman in the morning light, blissful and comfortable when pulled from her dreams and the one who’s bright and vibrant and whose smile lights up his entire day.

Marcus mirrors her smile and leans over towards her. He kisses the corner of her mouth; so close, yet so far away. Her eyebrows pinch together at the feeling, the gentle brush of his plush lips over her skin, barely an inch touching the curve of her lips, but settle before he pulls back and notices the pull on her expression. “See you around, Sunshine.” He bids her farewell before he sweeps from her apartment and she’s left to sigh and slump back against the kitchen counter.

Damn that man and the effect he has on her.

taglist: @wheresthewater @ah-callie @its--fandom--darling

#marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #sudden desire

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rapperkookz · 5 years ago

Text

charity date auction | f2l!jk | fluff, smut if you SQUINT

A/N day ___ of quarantine and i’m going insane

genre: fluff, crack, slight smut if you SQUINT

summary: Beta Tau Sigma was hosting their annual charity date auction for their philanthropy. In previous years, you just attended for fun and to see how many university girls were actually willing to spend their money just to go out on one date with one of the fraternity members. This year’s something different, especially when Jungkook’s on the lineup to get auctioned off.

word count: 4.3k ______________________________________________________________

Your POV

Ah the spring semester. The time when most events and end-of-the-year festivities happen. It was your favorite time. And this was no exception.

“Hey y/n, don’t just stand there laughing, this is a serious meeting we’re having right now.” Hoseok complained pointing his finger at you accusingly as you tried to hide your chuckles in. You leaned against Jungkook’s side, crossing your arms as you responded, “First of all, oppa, I’m sitting. And I’m sorry! This is my favorite event of yours, watching the girls - and guys! - fight over you idiots and actually pay money just to spend time with you all! It’s a great time, ah if only my Sisters and I could do something as dumb as this.”

“Call us dumb all you want kiddo, it gets us over $2000 in philanthropy,” Namjoon shrugged giving you a lighthearted mocking face. You shut your mouth, a little pout remaining on your lips as you turned your attention back to the show that you and Jungkook were watching. He grinned and poked your head with one hand, his opposite arm easily going around and framing your shoulders. “what?”

“Nothing, you’re just funny. Hopefully you won’t make fun of me when I’m getting auctioned.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m part of the lineup this year,” He said simply, scanning your face for a reaction. “That’s...okay right?”

You tried to hide your shock with a little smile, “N-no yeah that’s fine, I mean we’re not dating, Kook. You can do whatever you want,” Even as the words left your mouth, you felt your chest tightening in discomfort, finding it harder to smile genuinely at him. Jungkook mumbled a quiet ‘yeah’ and watched the show again, but the air surrounding you both suddenly turned awkward.

“Hey, with Kookie in the lineup this year, we might double profits!” Jimin said excitedly from the table where he sat with the rest of the boys. Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Even with Yoongi hyung out, Jungkook will probably get us at least $700,”

“You’re not doing the auction, Yoongi oppa?” You asked the older boy timidly. He looked at you with a soft smile, eyes reading your expression as if you were an open book. He shook his head, “No need to out of respect for my guy. We don’t do the auction if we’re in relationships.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, that made sense. Yoongi just started dating this guy a couple months ago and you’ve never see him happier ever since. You lingered on the last part of his comment, so...if you and Jungkook were dating, he wouldn’t be in the auction?

Ah but that was the thing though, you and him weren’t dating. It’s...complicated. You like Jungkook and he likes you back. That you both have established, hence the ease and touchiness that you and him already share. But after a drunk hookup with him and both of you struggling with the actual concept of settling down and commitment - even though that is basically what you both were doing already as of recent - it was just a friendship with a mutual romantic attraction that has no defined labels. Yet, neither of you seek anyone else and you both spend every waking day together when not in class or preoccupied with other activities.

“I uh, I need to go back to the house. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at the auction.” You said standing up rather abruptly, “I’m gonna get my bag from your room, Kook.”

He nodded and stood up soon after, heading towards the table where the rest of his brothers sat. Seokjin patted his back, “When are you and y/n going to make it official, huh?”

“It literally kills me watching you both,” Yoongi deadpanned in agreement. Jungkook sighed, running his hands through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen island. “I want to be with y/n, believe me. We’ve both talked about it too, I don’t know...just, commitment? We both got out of messy breakups and I don’t know if we’re ready for it yet.”

“Not ready? You two literally act like you’ve been dating for the past two months.” Jimin scoffed. Namjoon nodded, “Besides, she looked upset about the auction thing. You weren’t too keen on doing it either when we brought the event up at chapter.”

“I know,” Jungkook muttered, “give me a sec, hyungs. I’m gonna go talk to her before she leaves.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You pursed your lips as you packed up your books from Jungkook’s room. Why was this bothering you so much? Dumb question, you knew why this was bugging you, someone else is literally going to go on a date with your boyfriend - not...boyfriend. Fuck!

“Ugh!”

“y/n?” Jungkook said softly, knocking on the door as he opened it. You whipped around surprised, hitting your backpack which fell off his bed. “h-hey, Kook.”

He grinned at your clumsiness, his eyes turning into crescent moons as he closed the door behind him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, I just have to, you know, go back to the house and do some stuff.” You said, your voice getting quieter as you went on. Picking up your bag, you put your laptop inside and zipped it up before sitting down at the side of the bed. Jungkook sat next to you as if on instinct. “y/n, I don’t have to do the auction, you know? Not if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“Kook, who am I to stop you from that, though? And I mean, it’ll give your fraternity some good money too, I don’t have any right to keep you from participating.” You said, focus completely on your hands which were placed tightly in your lap. He sighed and grabbed one of your hands, lightly playing with your fingers which were hiding in the sleeve of his sweater. “You have every right, you’re...y/n.”

“I am y/n,” You said with a small smile, but you knew what he meant. “Go through with it, Kook. I’m not that selfish especially when you know...we’re not even together.”

“Yeah,” He said interlocking your fingers, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. He smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek, that’s how you always said goodbye.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“-sold! To that lovely lady for $500!” Yoongi said excitedly, watching Namjoon walk to the girl who won him with a rose in his hand, giving it to the girl who was fully charmed by him already. You stood with Taehyung and his date, who - conveniently - was one of your sisters that has had a crush on him for what seemed like ages.

“Look at Namjoon hyung’s smile,” Taehyung snickered hitting you on the arm in amusement. You turned around to face him and your sister, covering your mouth with one hand, afraid your laugh was going to be heard by the rest of the people in the venue, “You guys are such dorks, stop making me laugh!”

Your sister placed her hands on your shoulders and spun you around, “it’s Jungkook’s turn.” All of a sudden, your insides ran cold and you couldn’t find it in you to breathe, whether it be because you’re dreading this or because of how amazing Jungkook looked, you didn’t know. He was wearing his usual monochromatic look, a large white tee tucked into black jeans which emphasized his thighs and made you salivate and his hair was its usual fluffy brown mess parted down the middle.

“Next up we have Jungkook! He’s a comp-sci major with a photography minor. This year, he’s our fraternity’s social media chair and vice president of records. Probably our most talented brother, he can do literally anything, and he can serenade you to sleep.” Yoongi said with a wink at the end, “Do we have $20?”

A swarm of hands shot up from the crowd making Yoongi chuckle, “Ah I crack myself up, $30...$50-”

“I bid $100.”

Your eyes shot to the girl who just stood up, and to your horror it was none other than Lee Yuna. She was in another sorority on campus, and she was annoyingly pretty. You and her were good friends, you know, until she homewrecked your last relationship.

“Isn’t that-”

“$150.”

The words left your mouth before you could process anything, the attention of the room now on you as you let the price slip. You heard Taehyung try to hide his laughter from behind you, as Yoongi started ushering you up to the stage.

“$150 going once, going twice-”

“$300,” Yuna said her eyes narrowing at your form. You bit your lip in annoyance, walking up the stairs. You huffed out a breath, taking a glance at Yoongi as you answered, “$400.”

“$600.”

“$750.” You said with finality. There was no way that she would say anything higher than that. I mean, you guys are college students, this auction could easily apply to your student loans. “$800.”

“That’s Lee Yuna with $800, you gonna raise it y/n?” You crossed your arms, having an inner battle between yourself as you rested your weight on your leg, “$1000.”

“$1000!” Yoongi shouted, “Going once, going twice.”

“Fuck whatever, my parents will never give me $1000 without an explanation.” Yuna said leaving the stage agitated.

“And that’s $1000 sold to l/n y/n!” Yoongi said excitedly as the venue started clapping. You let out a sound of embarrassment, messing with your braids, as you started descending the stairs. You refused to look anyone in the eye, especially not the boys, and God forbid, Jungkook.

“Ah!” You shrieked in surprise as you felt arms circle around your waist, pulling you along to the side of the room. Thankfully the attention of the crowd was back to the front as Seokjin took the stage for his turn in the bidding. “Kook, don’t say it.”

“Hey, c’mon. Look at me y/n.” Jungkook said chuckling. He lifted the rose and put it at your eye level, which was trained to the floor. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face as you took the rose in your hand, lifting your head up a little to get a better look at it, but still refusing to meet his eye. Jungkook mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch besides ‘so stubborn’ before cupping your cheeks in between his hands and forcing you to look at him.

Damn his sparkling brown eyes. God his eyes that literally look like they hold the entire solar system in them. You felt your resolve melting, your cheeks tinging pink at how adoringly he looked at you. “What Kook?”

“Nothing,” he smiled. His focus moved from your eyes down to your lips, darting back up as if to ask for your permission. You grinned and puckered your lips in the slightest, your eyes fluttering closed as he finally closed the distance and kissed you.

It was short, but it still conveyed a mirage of emotions that somehow managed to overwhelm you. Neither of you were huge on public displays of affection, especially when your relationship had no defined labels. You pulled away first after the brief intimate moment, offering him a smile as you grabbed his hand and began leading him towards the back where you previously stood with Taehyung and your sister.

You could literally see the cockiness radiating from Taehyung as he held out his hand for Jungkook to complete their brother shake. The older boy nudged your side, “Didn’t know you were ballin with money, y/n. You should participate in the bidding more often.” Rolling your eyes, you were about to roast the living life out of Taehyung before Jungkook squeezed your hand.

“Cut it out, hyung.” The boy said lightheartedly, a small chuckled radiating from his chest. You and Jungkook met eyes once more, his expression softening even more - if that was possible - as he framed his arms around your body. You snuggled your back against his warmth upon instinct, feeling content in his embrace as the group of you watched the rest of the auction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You said goodbye to your sister as the boys were cleaning up the venue. It was a bit of a given that you were going back to the fraternity house, especially in these circumstances. You were cleaning up the tables with Hoseok as you watched Taehyung and your sister say their goodbyes. She looked as giddy as you’ve ever seen her, and from the way Taehyung was shyly rubbing the back of his neck, there was a potential new romance brewing in the air.

“We’re gonna move the platform back to Student Activities, we’ll see you guys at the house?” Jungkook asked standing with Jimin and Seokjin, his eyes, though, were trained on you at his question. You nodded in response, the other boys mumbling on in agreement as they hurried their cleaning tasks.

The remaining five of you leisurely hung around the common area of the fraternity house after changing into something more comfortable, waiting for the three to come back. You were minding your own business in the kitchen, drinking some juice as you scrolled through your tiktok feed on your phone.

“So,” Yoongi said hopping on the counter, “$1000 for Kook, huh?”

You sighed and put your phone down, sipping on your glass as you faced the older boy. Yoongi was like an older brother to you, more than the other guys. He gave you all your talks about Jungkook and this was no different. “I know what you’re going to say, oppa.”

“No, I’m not helping you pay for the money you promised our chapter.” He rolled his eyes. You laughed and threw your scrunchie at him, “No! You’re so annoying. You were gonna talk to me about Jungkook.”

“My question never changes, kiddo.” He said simply, giving you your hair tie back. “Why aren’t you official?”

“Yeah, why aren’t you official?” Hoseok said curious from the other room. You and Yoongi turned your heads to see the others listening intently in your conversation. Yoongi hopped off the counter and patted your shoulder, leading the both of you into the common area. You sat down on the arm of the single seat, facing the boys as you rested your elbows on your lap, your face being propped up by your hands. “I don’t know guys, I wanna be with Jungkook more than anything, I don’t know if he’s ready yet though or if I’m ready-”

“My God, all I know is that I’m ready to smack both of you upside your heads,” Namjoon shook his head. “y/n, it literally pains me and all of us watching you both pine for each other.”

“We-we don’t pine for each other...” You mumbled your voice trailing off as you tried to deny his statement.

Hoseok laughed, “Oh please, it’s all in the eyes y/n.”

“Besides, you’re literally wearing his shirt. He doesn’t even let us borrow his clothes,” Taehyung added making you curl your body in closer to itself.

Your lips formed a pout, trying to come up with a smart reply to the boys, but to no surprise you couldn’t figure one out. “I’ll...I don’t know, I’ll talk to Kook. We’re gonna have to I mean, I literally paid $1000 for a date with him.”

The others burst out laughing as if they forgot the highlight of the night. Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment as Yoongi started hitting your leg, fully amused.

“Where are you even gonna get $1000?” Taehyung laughed, “I’ve seen your bank account y/n,”

“Stop! Oppa, I have a...savings...account somewhere.” You whined crossing your arms. The guys lived to tease you, they say it’s all love, but personally you think it’s because you’re an easy target. Either way, you let it slide, their jokes were pretty funny anyway.

Namjoon cleared his throat after the room calmed down from their outburst. “You know, y/n, you must have been aware of this, but you could have just gotten Jungkook for free.”

“Matter of fact, you already have his heart for free,” Yoongi agreed, his sharp hearing picking up the click of the knob as the front door opened. In an instant, the remaining three boys walked inside the fraternity house, looking relieved to finally be back in their home. Chatter started to spark up once more as the boys were now complete. Your attention was focused on Jungkook as he lagged into the common room from the kitchen, drinking from a bottle of water that he retrieved from the fridge. He gravitated to your side while listening to the conversation of his brothers, his hand easily taking its place on your waist.

He squeezed your skin as if saying hello, making you wiggle against his body as you let out a laugh. Jungkook looked at you fondly, noticing that you were wearing one of his shirts and wow did you manage to pull it off, even if you were only wearing his white tee and a pair of your athletic shorts. After a couple minutes, the group of you dispersed into doing your own separate things, you and Jungkook already making yourselves comfortable in his room.

He grabbed a towel and informed you that he was going to take a quick shower. You nodded and leaned against his headboard, passing the time efficiently by scrolling through tiktoks. Soon enough, Jungkook was strolling back inside his room, rubbing his hair dry as he hummed a little song. You narrowed your eyes at him as he innocently looked at you with a smile, “What?”

“You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” You said shamelessly checking out his half-naked form. He only wore his grey sweatpants with you when he wanted something. He smirked mischievously, “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” You said throwing one of his pillows at him. He laughed, swiftly dodging your attack as he focused on drying his hair. You put your phone down on his bedside table, trying to figure out the right moment to start speaking. “You know, Kook-”

“Wait, I just wanna say first that I’m not gonna make you pay $1000 or force you to go out on a date with me. I can help you pay the money if my hyungs are really pressing for it because it does go towards our chapter.” He said sitting on the side of his bed adjacent to you. “What did you wanna say?”

You suddenly started to feel shy, your thoughts all clumping together as you fumbled with what to say first. “Uh...about tonight,” God your palms were sweaty. You and Jungkook have had this talk numerous times, yet it still made you nervous every time it was brought up. It was probably your fear of rejection, even though all signs pointed to the complete opposite of that. “I, um, I know that even yesterday, I was laughing about this auction and about the girls and guys bidding and honestly you probably think I’m stupid by what happened tonight-”

“Not at all,” Jungkook said putting his hand on your thigh for comfort. Your body temperature started to rise upon the contact of his warm hand on your bare thigh. You know he meant nothing sexual by it, but the way he looked delicious in his sweats betrayed you and the fact that you haven’t been laid in a month wasn’t helping either. Shaking your head to remove the dirty thoughts, you sighed and bit your lip, “I really wasn’t gonna bid tonight, like I was going to let them fight over you because I know where our feelings stand, but when I saw Yuna stand up I just...God I don’t know.”

The corners of his lips started to curl up in a little smirk, scooching on closer to you as he put his arm around your figure, his other hand still on your thigh. “You felt a little jealous?”

You could hear the smugness in his tone, but you couldn’t even deny it at this point. “I wanted to push her off the fucking platform.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said ghosting his lips against your neck. You shivered, the warm feeling of his breath making your body react almost immediately. Craning your neck so that he could get better access, you bit back a moan as he kissed at your sensitive spot, “you looked pretty sexy when you were fighting her.”

You scoffed, but let out a gasp as he pulled your hair to the side, biting your neck to make sure to leave a mark. “Jungkook, wait.”

In an instant, all his administrations stopped, respecting your words. You turned around in his hold, moving your legs to either side of his thighs, straddling the boy’s lap. His hands instantly found your waist, moving underneath his shirt to find access to your skin. You met his eyes, which held curiosity and concern. You gave a soft smile, moving one of your hands to play with his lightly damp hair. “Jungkook, I don’t want to be confused about our relationship anymore.”

“Me neither.”

“I don’t want to feel jealous over girls that throw themselves at you. I don’t want to have to think twice about hugging you in public or holding your hand or kissing you. Kook, I want to be yours and have everyone else know it too. I wanna be able to call you my boyfriend.” You said letting it all go. “I know we both got out of traumatic breakups and like honestly thinking about being in a relationship and the possibility of getting broken like that again is scaring me even right now, like I don’t know what I’m saying I might talk myself out of this, fuck I don’t know-”

Jungkook leaned in and pressed your lips together, shutting you up effectively. You relaxed in the kiss, all feelings of anxiety that you brought up disappearing in an instant. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he made a sound of approval and pulled you flush against his chest. You whimpered at the feeling of his hardening bulge against your ass, moving your bottom back and forth to feel some friction. He groaned into your mouth and ground his hips up into yours, his bulge making contact with your core making you whine in pleasure.

Unwillingly, Jungkook pulled away before you both were too far gone, the grip he had on your waist tightening in sexual frustration. “Sorry, you were just really cute rambling, I couldn’t help myself.”

You were already breathing hard from the kiss, your hormones were starting to go haywire at all these interruptions, “Kook, I know we’re both hesitant about starting a new relationship, but I know that if it’s with you, I know that I wanna try.”

“Me too,” he agreed his expression switching from lustful to soft. His duality amazed you. “Can I finally call you my girlfriend now, y/n?”

You giggled and kissed his nose, the smile radiant on your face, “yes please.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that he was topping you. He tickled your sides affectionately, his laughs raising in pitch as you squealed at his attack. “Now, my dick is hard and you’ve been turning me on since the auction, can I please fuck you? it’s been so long.”

You could already feel his hands grope the side of your breast. Instead of responding with words, you snuck your hand between the two of you and squeezed at his bulge, the man above you groaning in pleasure. Bless his grey sweatpants. It always had to do with his grey sweats.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Jungkook never seemed to leave your side. Even as you were making coffee for the whole house, you found it rather endearing than clingy. You don’t know if the boys caught on yet, they probably should have by now.

“God you two are insatiable rabbits,” Yoongi groaned seeing you and Jungkook in the kitchen. He shot a pointed look at your boyfriend, “What the fuck did you take for you to go at it all night? Viagra? Ecstasy? Poppers?”

“Shut up hyung,” Jungkook said trying to hide the blush from his face by burying it in your neck. You patted his arm, “it’s okay, Kook.”

“Babe, he’s being mean to me.”

“Hold on. Babe?” Yoongi asked before slowly clapping his hands. “Thank fucking God finally!”

“Are they finally together?” Jimin yawned from the common area, the boys starting to fill the space in. You and Jungkook shared a look before he spoke to all his brothers.

“Not that we were really obligated to tell you guys, but yeah y/n and I are dating now.” Jungkook grinned hugging you tightly from behind.

“Damn, it really took $1000 for you both to define the relationship,” Seokjin cackled as you glared at him. “It wasn’t just because of that, oppa please!”

“Well, guess that explains why they were fucking all night.” Namjoon said as Taehyung and Hoseok nodded in agreement.

“You still have to pay, y/n sorry.” Hoseok shrugged making you whine.

“I can’t believe you paid $1000 to go on a date with your boyfriend,” Taehyung snorted, the rest of the boys bursting out in laughter at the seemingly stupid fact, even your dumbass boyfriend was laughing too. You elbowed Jungkook’s stomach, groaning at the sad reality your wallet was about to face.

“I can’t believe I have to pay to go out with you,” You rolled your eyes. Jungkook smiled cheekily and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. He kissed your lips briefly, as if that would fix everything. Jungkook met your eyes with a flirty wink, “I’ll make sure it’s the best fucking date ever, babe. Don’t worry.” ______________________________________________________________

A/N Wow I finally finished this. Fun fact, I was inspired by an episode of Full House for this, but wow I’ve been craving on posting something for literally the longest time. I also have an exam in 5 hours and it’s 4:30 am right now ah ha ha but ~quAranTiNe VibEZ~ I hope you’re all staying safe and healthy everyone <3

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songandashadow · 4 years ago

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Canon Compliant fics

***PLEASE ALWAYS READ THE TAGS FOR POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

the 🔒 means you’ll have to be logged in to read!

✦ Taste of a Poison Paradise by objectlesson | 9k

Louis notices Harry's mouth right away.

✦ it's just that it's delicate by acciocreativity (condescendingsmirk) | 2k

Harry giggles sleepily and Louis’ heartstrings give a little tug. “Come snuggle, then?” he asks hopefully, blinking up at Louis slowly. He brings a hand up to rub at his tired eyes. “Body heat and all that.”

✦ After Midnight by zarah5 | 4k 🔒

Louis hates how often people forget that Harry is only nineteen.

✦ wild flower, my face of love by orphan_account | 11k 🔒

It feels like a lifetime’s worth of adoration when Harry kisses him – just to kiss him, just to feel his lips, because even 15 minutes without them is 14 minutes and 59 seconds too many – and when Louis holds him back, wraps his arms and legs and lips around him, it’s like an inexplicable familiarity between their souls that just four years can’t explain.

Or: the one where Jay gets married.

✦ The Sound of Your Voice From Far Away by pukeandcry | 39k 🔒

It'd be perfect, he convinces himself. Things with Lou are – well. They're the way they are, and there's no point dwelling on why it's got that way. But he thinks this would help -- not fix them, because they're not broken. They don't need to be put back together, they're just. Out of sync, maybe. It would help. He thinks it would, anyway, if they could just be the two of them again, to be alone together with no outside influences pressing claustrophobically in on them, just for a bit. And driving down an empty highway with nothing else but Louis beside him is the best way to do that that he can imagine.

Or, after the U.S. leg of the Take Me Home tour, Harry and Louis drive from L.A. to NYC. They figure some things out, like how to deal with the distance that's been growing between them.

✦ One More Time Again by orphan_account | 232k 🔒 [part 2]

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

✦ live for today by togetherwecouldbealright for tomorrows | 2k🔒

“’S pretty,” he murmurs to Louis, setting his phone down. “Like you.”

When Louis laughs, Harry feels his chest shaking underneath him and it makes him want to explode into a million colors himself.

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis says, lips pressed against the crown of Harry’s head. “You’re lovely.”

Harry and Louis watch the fireworks.

✦ Can We Pretend (honestly reality bores me) by SadaVeniren | 4k [part 3 of this series]

He felt Louis chuckle. “Dreaming of being my supportive, no-name boyfriend again?”

“Always,” Harry whispered. It was true. After all this time together there was no point in hiding any of his fantasies from Louis, no matter how innocent they were. So Louis was well aware of Harry’s desire to be anonymous sometimes - the “no-name” as Louis called him - loyal, a constant presence at Louis’ side.

aka Harry comes and supports Louis at his Scala concert

✦ nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres for tomorrows | 37k

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

✦ For a lifetime I’ll be by your side (I do) by SadaVeniren | 3k

“If this works out I’m gonna ask you to marry me,” Louis whispered.

He felt Harry stir in his arms, and he held his breath, hoping he hadn’t woken him. No such luck, because a moment later Harry mumbled back, “I accept.”

Louis swallowed, a smile crossing his face. “You do?”

Harry mumbled again in agreement. “Marry you in every country I can.”

Five times Louis proposed to Harry and One time Harry proposed to Louis

✦ Hiding Place by alivingfire | 365k [part 2]

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

✦ somewhere I can rest my soul by togetherwecouldbealright | 3k

I’m Louis Tomlinson,” the boy says, holding his hand out. Glancing down at it, Harry starts at the word beautiful written there, just along his pointer finger. It seems someone else knows exactly how stunning Louis is.

Willing himself not to act like a complete and utter prat, Harry takes Louis’ hand in his own and quietly murmurs, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Or, the AU where the way your soulmate sees you is tattooed onto your skin.

hope you enjoy these! if you do, please don’t forget to leave kudos. :)

MORE RECS: Friends to Lovers fic rec / August Fic Rec

#larry fic rec #larry fic #larry #canon compliant

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years ago

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Walk Me Home - Ch 5

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3777

Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. Decided to give Wednesday posting a try and also get a chapter up a little earlier to make up for lack of posting. Be prepared to brush your teeth after this one. The fluff morphed into cotton candy when I wasn’t looking. Also, be prepared, the next chapter is short, but...intense? Yes. Let’s say intense.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 5

Kimber drifts gradually back to consciousness, feeling warmer and safer than she has in decades. She draws in a deep breath, stretching luxuriously, and then stilling suddenly. This bed is not her bed. This blanket is not her blanket. She has a brief moment of panic before she opens her eyes to find Dean’s face inches from hers, smooth and relaxed with sleep.

She’d only been able to let him go last night long enough for him to grab his own quick shower and change into sleep clothes. Then, in wordless agreement, they’d settled under the covers of her bed. They’d woven limbs together, pressed close without a word of discussion or thought of awkwardness.

Just as she was falling asleep, she felt his cheek press against the top of her head, and he’d murmured a single question. She nodded her consent, and his lips met her forehead, just as soft and warm as she remembered. Then sleep asserted its claim.

Kimber lies still in Dean’s arms now, afraid to move and wake him. She’s never seen him this peaceful and relaxed, even back before life took more of a toll on him. With his guard down, she can finally see all the fine lines etched by a hard life spread over his features, adding depth and detail to his face.

In the early morning light filtering through the threadbare curtains, she can just make out a sparse sprinkling of gray in his hair, and she smiles. Time may be catching up with Dean Winchester, but he is definitely not worse for wear.

She shifts a little, freeing a hand, and he grumbles in his sleep, his arms tightening for a second before relaxing again. She strokes his hair back gently, combing her nails lightly across his scalp, and he shivers against her.

She’s never seen him this vulnerable, this soft, even when they were younger. She has to strangle down the urge to trace his facial features with her fingertips. Whatever this is between them is strained by absence and misunderstanding but has somehow managed to survive the years. Touching him so intimately without his knowledge or consent…

No, she thinks. I want to ask him, I want him to hear him say yes. I want him to ask me to touch him.

Instead, she snuggles closer, closing her eyes and resting her face on his chest again, basking in the safety and warmth of his embrace for as long as she can. She is mortified when, five minutes later, her stomach lets out a growl so loud that it actually rouses Dean from his sleep. His arms tense as he stretches and frowns, eyebrows lowering with concern.

“You hungry or just really happy to see me?” he rumbles, his eyes closing again. She giggles, embarrassment abated. Then she becomes acutely aware of the rat’s nest that is her hair and what tastes like a truly horrific case of morning breath. She disentagles herself from his legs and rolls from his grasp, smiling to herself at his muttered protests. Snatching her previous day’s clothes, Kimber slips into the bathroom to perform whatever damage control she can manage under the circumstances.

Thirty minutes later finds them at the diner across the parking lot, downing coffee with mutual, silent appreciation. Dean’s brother Sam is expected imminently, and Kimber has no classes or office hours today, so they are mostly ready to begin the investigation.

“We need to sweep your office and house for hex bags,” Dean says, between sips of his second cup of coffee. “Your house will take a while, so why don’t we start with your office to get it out of the way?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kimber agrees, frowning. “I’ll know if anything is missing, out of place, or new. Maybe you and Sam could check out the spots of the other accidents?”

Dean opens his mouth to answer, then his eyes focus on something over her shoulder, and he nods a greeting. She turns to see a ridiculously tall man in a suit headed in their direction. It takes her longer than she’s proud to admit to reconcile this giant stranger with the slumped, defeated boy she last saw in the backseat of the Winchester’s car.

“Sam?”

His smile is warm, if a little hesitant, and she stands. They fumble between a hug and a handshake, finally settling on the former before seating themselves. A waitress drops off another mug for Sam, along with coffee refills all around, and they waste no time filling Sam in on the little they know and what they have planned.

“Actually, Sam,” Dean adds, glancing askance at the egg white omelette the waitress places in front of his brother, “I was thinking you could interview the victims at the hospital, see if they noticed anyone out of the ordinary or had contact with anyone that sounds like our stalker.”

Sam nods, his mouth full, and turns questioning eyes on Kimber. She closes her eyes, pushing as much distraction from her mind as possible.

“He was...on the shorter side. I’d say I probably have an inch or so on him. Younger than me, but I don’t know by how much. I’m really bad at judging age, I’m sorry. Unshaven but not a full beard, kind of rough-looking. Really pale. He never looked me in the eyes, so I didn’t see his eye color. Dark, shaggy hair.”

She shrugs, spreading her hands in apology. “I don’t remember much else. Dark blue windbreaker? It’s been a few weeks, and I didn’t think I’d have to point him out in a line-up or anything.”

Sam shakes his head quickly, swallowing. “No, Kimber, it’s fine. That’s more to go on than we usually have. I’ll talk to the victims, see if anyone stands out in their minds. You two have a solid plan. I’ll give you a call after I visit the hospital, see what I can find out.”

He hesitates, his eyebrows knitted together. “Kimber, I know you’re under a lot of strain, but could you go over the incidents one more time so I have the basics before I go talk to them? I wouldn’t ask, but I need to know what to expect.”

She can’t repress the shudder than runs through her stomach, but she shakes it off and rolls her shoulders. This is just an information exchange. She can handle that. She may need a drink or two afterwards, but she can get through it one more time.

Sam listens attentively, his forehead wrinkled, mouth set in a thin-lipped frown as she recounts the series of accidents plaguing her department. He exchanges some sort of troubled, wordless communication with Dean before glancing down at his folded hands. After considering for a long moment, he speaks, his words measured and careful.

“It definitely sounds like someone has a grudge against your department, at least, if not you specifically. All the victims are friends or work closely with you. We don’t know if any of the other victims got a doll like yours. That’s something for my list. You sure you can’t think of any reason, anything at all, that might make someone target all of you?”

She shoves down her mounting frustration, feeling impotent and slow. If she could think of anything at all helpful, she would have shared it by now.

“I really can’t, I’m sorry. I just don’t interact with that many people outside of the department, and we all get along fine, as far as I know. No special treatment, no recent honors anyone could be jealous of. I checked in with my hunter contacts that I’d helped out with witch cases in the last few years, even a few non-witch cases that were still open, and I got nowhere with that. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Sam sighs, nodding before finishing the last of his coffee. “Figured it was worth asking. Okay, I’m heading out. Dean, I’ll give you a call in a few hours.”

Dean nods to Sam, and the younger Winchester excuses himself, crossing the crowded restaurant with a few long strides before disappearing out the door.

Kimber turns back to Dean, her eyes wide with shock she’s barely managed to suppress until just now. He frowns, taking in her expression, looks down to inspect his shirt, then back up, his face comically confused.

“What? Do I have food on my face?”

“What did you feed him after you left town?!” Kimber keeps her volume low but can’t keep the wonder from her voice. “Growth hormones? Steroids? Jesus, he’s over a foot taller than the last time I saw you both, and he was already thirteen then!”

Dean barks out a loud, sharp laugh that earns him a reproving glance from a passing waitress. He bites his lip, covering his mouth with his hand, only partially successful at smothering his snort. She can’t help but smile, a little embarrassed at her outburst, but still…

“No, just lots of fast food. Good, healthy, all-American diet. Almost had to get a full-time job, just keepin’ him fed and clothed. Kid grew out of shoes and jeans like nothin’ I’ve ever seen.”

There’s no mistaking the fondness in Dean’s voice, almost more paternal than brotherly. And the off-hand comment about keeping Sam clothed and fed...Kimber’s heart twinges, but she carefully keeps her face as relaxed and amused as she can.

“Ready to go?” she asks. He nods and stands, lifting the check from the table to take up to the register. He offers her a hand, an inviting smile curling one corner of his mouth, and she does her best to smother the butterflies in her stomach as her fingers slide into his.

…

“I promised Sam I’d go to opening night,” Dean said, something like an apology in his voice. “He’s only working tech, but he’s really excited. It’s been a while since we’ve stayed anywhere long enough that he could get involved like this.”

Kimber squeezed his fingers, pulling her coat closed with her other hand. The temperature had dropped over the last few days, and the evening was brisk as they walked hand-in-hand to the high school.

“Dean, are you kidding? You’re taking me to a play, dinner, and meeting your family all at once. Three birds with one date!” She skipped a little, swinging his hand with hers, flashing him her most exaggerated grin as she let her eyes go wide and kooky. He snorted, glancing away to hide his smile.

He stopped suddenly, tugging gently until she stepped closer, her expression relaxing. His knuckles slid gently down her cheekbone and under her jaw, lifting her chin. He kissed her, a sweet, chaste brush of his lips over hers that sent her pulse dancing. Her cheeks warmed under his attention, and he pressed his lips a fraction more firmly against hers before straightening.

His eyes sparkled in the light from the streetlamp overhead. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

She popped up on her tiptoes to kiss him again, marveling at her own bravery as her hands clasped the sides of his face, locking him in place. Before he could recover, she grabbed his hand, tugging him into a run down the sidewalk, and they arrived at the school, breathless and laughing.

The performance of Oklahoma! was pretty standard for high school. Simple dance sequences, fair to decent singing (for the most part), and about forty minutes longer than Kimber preferred. They waited afterwards for Sam to make his way from the lighting board, and he shyly offered his hand to Kimber, who accepted, smiling and squeezing his fingers just a little.

The three of them arrived at the diner, relieved to see most families were celebrating at the more expensive restaurants across town. Sam looked over the menu, his eyes as hungry as the growl that escaped his stomach. Kimber didn’t miss the sad look he shot Dean before closing the menu and setting it down.

When he ordered an ice water and peanut butter sandwich, Kimber’s heart cracked.

“Sam, it’s my treat tonight. You did a great job; Mrs. Hasker never lets eighth graders work the soundboard, so go nuts. Order whatever you want. It’s your night.”

Sam, eyes wide with hope, glanced at Dean, who looked torn between shame and relief. Dean cleared his throat, shot a grateful smile at Kimber, then nodded at Sam.

“You did good, kid. Go for it.”

Sam’s face brightened, and Kimber couldn’t help but mirror his expression as he ordered a strawberry milkshake, double cheeseburger, and cheese fries. Kimber discreetly jabbed Dean in his ribs, and he side-glared at her, suppressing what was very definitely not a manly squeak of surprise.

“You, too, big brother,” she said, her eyes narrowing pointedly. His lips thinned, his expression pinched. She knew she was hitting a nerve for him; it was fine to accept dinner invitations at home, and fine for her to treat his little brother, but paying for him on a date was an entirely different matter. He visibly wrestled with the simple decision, frustration and pride warring with want.

She softened her expression, placing her hand over his clenched fist. “Please?” She mouthed. “It’s okay.” He glanced at Sam, who was happily chatting with the smiling waitress about the performance, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s face.

“Double-bacon cheeseburger, and chili fries, please.”

Dinner with the Winchester boys was a delight that Kimber never forgot. Though Dean teased his younger brother mercilessly, liberally sprinkling descriptors like “geek” and “nerd” in his comments, she saw the way his eyes would linger on Sam as the younger boy inhaled his meal between answering questions about his classes and the performance.

“Are you going to take AP classes, Sam?” Kimber asked. He seemed so keen and motivated, she couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t want to.

“I want to, but we move so much, I don’t think I could keep up with the curriculum,” he admitted, his expression falling.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Kimber lowered her voice conspiratorially. Sam leaned a little closer, intrigued, and she smiled at his eagerness. It was like looking at a mirror of herself just a few years ago.

“Most AP classes follow the same guidelines across the country, almost week by week. Mr. Schaeffer is the AP coordinator at our school, and he’s pretty cool for a teacher. If you talk to him, explain your situation, I’ll bet he could get you copies of most of the AP curriculum, maybe even some spare textbooks, so you could keep up with it as you guys move around.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Dean for confirmation. Dean shrugged, affecting disinterest as he leaned back to drape an arm around Kimber’s shoulder.

“I dunno, Sammy,” Dean drawled, “but Kimber’s the top of our class, so she’s probably got some idea what she’s talking about.” He let out an exaggerated huff of air as Kimber’s elbow connected with his side, doubling over as he pretended to fall out of the booth.

Sam peppered Kimber and Dean with questions about their classes for the rest of the night and didn’t even have to be convinced to have an extra large slice of celebratory pie to finish the meal off.

The three of them stayed late enough at the diner that Kimber was obliged to call her parents on the pay phone in the corner to assure them that she had not, in fact, been kidnapped and left in a ditch on the side of the road. The temperature had dropped considerably, so when Kimber’s mother offered to give all three of them a ride home, Kimber accepted without thinking.

“My mom will be here in about ten minutes,” she announced as she slid back into the booth. “She’s going to give you two a lift back to the motel on our way home.”

Dean’s expression fell sharply, and Kimber’s heart sank.

“You didn’t-”

“Thanks!” Sam said, unintentionally speaking over Dean. “It got so cold out all of a sudden. Say, do you think I should talk to Mr. Schaeffer tomorrow?”

“The sooner the better,” she said, shrugging on her coat. Sam nodded, slurping down the last of his drink and loping off to the bathroom. She glanced over at Dean, who was sitting stone-faced, a muscle twinging above his jaw.

“I didn’t mean to...I mean, I should have asked, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes closed, his jaw clenching as his lips pinched tight. Kimber waited, feeling the sting of tears prick at the back of her eyes. She’d crossed some unspoken line between them, and she didn’t know what to do to fix the moment. It had been such a good night, up til then.

“I...I’m not mad...at you,” Dean finally ground out. “Just...just gimme a second.”

He scrubbed his face with both hands, then glanced back towards the bathroom before speaking. He kept his eyes on the table-top, his hands clenching and unclenching on the cheap formica.

“I’m not...used to accepting hand-outs. I can take care of Sam, Kimber, I don’t need...you didn’t...you didn’t have to.”

She opened her mouth, fully ready to defend herself, but he held up a hand.

“I know. I know what you’re going to say. I get that it’s not a hand-out. I know you don’t...I know you aren’t lookin’ down at us. I’m not used to…”

He cleared his throat, then reached out to her, his eyes still firmly on the table-top. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick, his words measured.

“I promise, I’m not mad at you. Can we leave it at that for now?” He turned pleading eyes in her direction, his hand palm-up on the table. Her fingers were in his before she realized she’d moved. Mouth too dry to speak, she nodded and allowed herself to be pulled up from the booth.

Sam came barreling back from the restroom then, saving them from further awkward conversation, and they bundled up against the chill. By the time Kimber’s mother arrived, Dean had relaxed enough to greet Mrs. Harper pleasantly, and when they reached the motel, he leaned up to kiss Kimber’s cheek before climbing out of the backseat with Sam in tow.

The next day at school, Dean was a little distracted, almost distant. He walked her home that afternoon in almost complete silence. They were a block from her house when she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She stopped short, biting her lip as tears stung her eyes. To her shame, her throat started to clench, choking any attempt at words.

Dean looked back at her, concern and confusion clear on his face at her sudden stop.

She swiped the heel of her hand across her cheeks, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry about last night,” she managed, less coherently than she would have liked. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t...I’m sorry I ruined the evening.”

Dean was in front of her in an instant, thumbs wiping the tears from her face, lips pressed fiercely against her forehead.

“No, sweetheart.” His tone was rough and resolute. “I told you I’m not mad at you. Last night was...Last night was wonderful. I haven't seen Sam that happy in a long time. It’s been a rough few months. Sam and Dad have started fighting. Dad expects a lot from him, but not the usual good grades kind of ‘a lot.’ And when Dad pushes, Sam pushes back, and I…”

He dropped his forehead to hers, and Kimber pulled in a shaking breath.

“I didn’t want to drag you into our mess. You are perfect, and Sam and I both had a great time last night. Thank you. For dinner. For making Sam so happy. For everything.” He pulled back a few inches, catching her gaze. “Please don’t apologize again.”

She nodded, unable to answer aloud. He searched her eyes until he was satisfied, then nodded.

“ ‘M gonna kiss you now, so Imma need you to hold back on the tears for a minute. People will think I’m a terrible kisser if you cry through the whole thing.”

She laughed, and he caught her off guard, pressing his lips to hers before deepening the kiss. His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head until he found an angle to please them both. His tongue swept, feather-light, across her lower lip, and she melted.

They came back to Earth a few moments later, jolted from their universe by enthusiastic honking and shouting from a passing car full of guys from one of their classes. Kimber hid her blazing face against Dean’s neck as he nodded, grinning and waving at the other boys.

Instead of pulling away, Kimber linked her arms around his neck, shivering against a biting breeze that swept past. Dean’s arms constricted, pulling her close enough that she felt his heartbeat against her chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dean whispered, his words nearly lost in the breeze. Then he pulled away, linked his fingers through hers, and walked her home. He kissed her once more on her doorstep, holding her face between his warm, calloused palms, eyes closed.

He rested his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back. He tried to deliver that smooth, carefree grin from their first study session and failed miserably.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said. Then he turned, flipping up the collar of his jacket, and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed down the walkway. She watched him go, wanting nothing more than to run after him. The set of his shoulders, the tense bend of his neck, told her to hold her ground, though.

Something else was eating at Dean, and she knew him well enough to know that needling him wouldn’t get him to open up. He needed space and understanding, and she would just have to sit on her frustration. He asked for so very little, the least she could do was give him some time to work through whatever was going on. She just hoped it wouldn’t take too much time for him to open up. She hated seeing him so distant and miserable.

When Dean finally turned up that evening, he was thirty minutes late for dinner. His father glowered at the pair of them from the driver’s seat of a sleek, black muscle car, while Sam slumped, miserable, in the back. Kimber realized with cold, painful clarity that they had, in fact, no time left at all.

…

Chapter 6

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xiaq · 5 years ago

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So next month I’m attending two different friends’ work Christmas parties and pretending to be their girlfriend and I thought to myself today: wouldn’t it be funny if someone happened to be at both parties, recognized me, and pulled aside Friend2 to tell him I was cheating on him and Friend2 panicked and claimed all three of us were dating to save face. Can you imagine the hijinks that would ensue?

And then because I write fanfiction I was like.

Wait.

So picture this:

Good Omens Human AU:

Crowley is a young, hotshot, workaholic lawyer who has invented a girlfriend to get his coworkers off his back. He asks his friend Anathema who runs the coffee shop next to the firm to please, please, play the part at the holiday party and she agrees.

Anathema also agrees to attend the Soho Classical Book Club’s winter party with her friend Aziraphale who runs the book shop adjacent to her coffee shop. Aziraphale has, similarly, been citing his partner as an excuse to get out of blind dates and pub nights with his book club friends and they’re starting to think he’s made said partner up.

All should be well…except one of the lawyers at Crowley’s firm also attends the Soho Classical Book Club. So when a coworker approaches Crowley at the holiday party, looking very grave, and murmurs to him that he thinks his girlfriend is cheating on him with a member of his book club, Crowley, panicked and trying to save face, says, “Ah. No. Not at all. That’s just…our boyfriend.” Dumb of ass, our Crowley. And the other lawyer is like. “Oh! Well. Of course. That’s—you should have brought Aziraphale as well. We wouldn’t—we certainly wouldn’t have a problem with that. We’re all very accepting here at the firm. He’s absolutely welcome to come to the next ‘do in addition to Anathema.” And Crowley is like. “Ah. Yes. I will certainly invite him next time. Aziraphale. My other partner.” And Anathema tells Aziraphale and everyone is all rather amused about it.

Except having two partners makes it even more suspicious when you arrive alone to company dinners or book club events, Crowley and Aziraphale find. And suddenly their friends and coworkers are overly concerned about their relationships and asking prying questions and wondering if they are unhappy or on the verge of a breakup because neither of their partners ever seem available. And finally, on the Friday before a weekend that Anathema is out of town, Crowley shows up at the book shop with every intention of introducing himself and then begging whomever this Aziraphale person is to please pretend to be his partner at the merger celebration the following night or he may have to quit his job. And Aziraphale had already been considering asking Anathema for Crowley’s phone number because he thinks if he doesn’t turn up to the Sunday book club meeting with at least one of them in tow he may blurt out the whole charade due to stress.

Except Crowley comes sauntering in through the doors and Aziraphale is peering at a book through his tiny little glasses and they both sort of freeze with sequential realizations:

Oh no, he’s hot.

Cue fumbled introductions and awkward agreements—Crowley probably makes a spreadsheet—to attend occasional events together. And over the following months they Pine Heavily. Crowley starts dropping by the bookshop under the pretense of discussing their meetings, and then the pretense of discussing the monthly book because he’s started attending the book club. And Aziraphale starts ordering Crowley’s favorite coffee for him and delivering it with the occasional scone to his office during Aziraphale’s lunch break. And Anathema occasionally joins them at various company and book club events but usually can use her odd hours at the coffee shop as an excuse to skip so it’s mostly just.

Them.

Together.

Pretending to be a couple.

And this is getting long and I should really get back to work but you know, you KNOW, that eventually, after some terrible soul-sucking case is just finished, when Crowley hasn’t slept for a week (it’s probably also raining), he stumbles into the coffee shop where Aziraphale is just ordering a bedtime hot chocolate and Aziraphale takes one look and him and is like. No. No sir. No caffeine or, god forbid, driving for you. And brings him up to the flat above the book shop and puts him to bed.

And Crowley is like, “Oh, angel,” (of course he calls Aziraphale angel. Crowley calls Aziraphale angel in every universe. It probably started as a joke about gross pet names in this particular universe and then stuck. But pet names are not at all gross, it turns out, when you’re actually in love with the person, Crowley discovers). Anyway. Crowley says, “Oh angel, I couldn’t put you out of your bed. Are you going to sleep on the couch? With your back? Can’t do. There’s plenty of room for two.” And they go to sleep on separate sides but then wake up in the morning cuddling and nearly inconsolable from how fraught everything is. Because they both think their affections are unrequited. Because they are both idiots.

But thankfully, when they awkwardly go to the coffee shop together that morning Anathema is like, “Oh thank god. You two finally banged. I was so sick of hearing you whine about how in love you are with each other.” And they’re like… “Wat.” And then they go right back upstairs to Aziraphale’s flat without coffee and the book shop does not open that day and Crowley calls in sick and whenever they do rejoin society having talked things out (among other things), they sadly report to mutual friends that they have broken up with Anathema who, oddly enough, is the officiator of their wedding a year later. So clearly it was an amicable breakup. And they live happily ever after the end.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley/aziraphale #good omens fic #myfic

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basket-of-cats-and-witches · 4 years ago

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Feelings

I don’t really have much to say about this, other than I was feeling particularly indulgent with my emotionally stunted detective, Z. I feel like I love them more than anyone else does, but you know what! That’s what writing is for. To be proud and self-indulgent with your darling OCs, even if it means making them uncomfortable. :D With that in mind, Spoilers for Book 2 of The Wayhaven Chronicles! By which I mean location. Mostly. Also slight warning for mention of scarring and past ocular damage. No, I don’t go into detail. Z’s just missing some bits, that’s all. *blows a kiss to the sky* This one’s for you, Felix. And Z, I guess.

----------------------------------- "You should tell him, you know." Looking up from their paperwork, Z met Nate's eyes. Although it was true the relationship between the Detective and Unit Bravo had started off extremely tense, there was one thing they all agreed on- a mutual love of Felix. So here they were, Z sitting in the common room in the warehouse, finishing up written reports, a silence descending upon the room. Nate’s words hung in the air, quietly pressing for a response. The Detective sighed and put down their pen. "And pray tell, what, exactly, are you referring to?" "Felix, of course," the vampire said softly. "You two are joined at the hip most days. I've heard him shouting from the rooftops about how great and wonderful and fantastic you are, and yet I haven't heard a peep out of you." Z stared at him. Stared as if they could gaze directly into his mind, and wrest the secrets that lay hidden beneath into some semblance of understanding. Their eyes flicked to Mason and Adam, the other two present in the room. "And I suppose you two feel the same?" Z arched a brow. Silence again. Without Felix present to fill the room up with noise, they were all at a stalemate. Adam cleared his throat. "Well," he said, meeting Z's gaze as it snapped to him, "As much as I don't exactly approve of your relationship, I also understand that it's going to happen whether I want it to or not. So." He fidgeted. Was the fearless leader…feeling awkward? "I agree with Nate. You should. Speak. To him." The response itself was like drawing blood from a stone, his teeth gritted against it. Mason just scoffed. The two of them, Z and Mason, exchanged a silent conversation. It was something that still unnerved the others, considering how much the two seemed to be constantly in a standoff of some sort. Were they friends? Were they enemies? No one knew. No one dared asked. After a beat, Z nodded. It seemed whatever looks they had deciphered from the vampire had settled them, and they rose. "Fine. If all three of you are in agreement-" Nate and Adam exchanged an incredulous look. That's what Mason's look meant? The confusion of where exactly Z and Mason stood with each other continued. "-I'll go speak with him. He's still doing a patrol, right?" Nate nodded, watching as Z rose, stretched, and ambled out of the room. He glanced at Mason. "So...do you two like or hate each other?" The vampire snorted, lighting up now that Z was out of the room. He shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?" He took a drag of his cigarette, and just like that, the conversation was over. Both Adam and Nate had the same silent thought. That still doesn't answer anything! - They heard Felix before they saw him. The sound of a twig snapping, and footsteps heading straight for them warned Z to put their arms up as the vampire launched himself directly at his significant other. "Z!" The sheer force of Felix colliding into the detective sent them both sprawling, Felix landing on top with a cheerful laugh. "Hi babe! Fancy meeting you here!" He glanced down at the detective, their hair an ink-black spill across the ground, framing their quietly amused face. It appeared even this wasn't enough to startle them. "Hello, Felix," they said softly, smiling up at the grinning fool. "I don't think this is what the Agency meant when they said 'take down criminals'." Still, they reached up, caressing Felix's cheek, their smile widening as he sighed and leaned into their touch. "Well I'll take-" Felix paused, thinking. Z could practically watch his brain buffer. "I'll take you! Down. Wait." The buffering continued. Z snorted. "I'll let you workshop that, champ." They leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of their boyfriend's mouth. "In the meanwhile, you gonna let me up?" The vampire pondered. "Mm. Maybe. I think I might like having you underneath me. Not sure I wanna move." "Not that I'm complaining, but the ground is a little wet. If you wanna be on top of me elsewhere, say...my bed, be my guest." Z arched a brow, grinning as Felix's often scattered attention focused fully on him. And then they groaned. "No wait, scratch that. I actually had a purpose to coming out here and finding you, dammit." Their boyfriend tilted his head in confusion before hopping nimbly to his feet, reaching out and pulling them up. "Oh yeah? Did Adam need me to come back or something? Usually he just comes and fetches me himself. Did something happen? Did-" Z put a finger on his lips, silencing the vampire rather effectively. "No, something else." They sighed. "Felix, I…" Z hesitated. And then visibly colored. Felix watched as his partner struggled with words, mouth opening and closing with a strangled squeak. A deep blush spread across the normally stoic Detective's face, until finally they gave up and took his hands. "...Maybe we should walk for a bit? Together?" The vampire looked at them curiously. "....sure? Are you okay, babe?" They gave a tiny nod, meek and awkward. A complete juxtaposition to their usual air of confidence and sarcasm. "I just um. Well. The others brought something up." They huffed, pulling him forward, until the pair began to move at a slow and steady pace. "And I just. I just wanted to say, I-" Silence. Struggling with words once more. "I- I um. I love-" The scowl that spread across their face would have been amusing if they hadn't been struggling so hard to get the words out, and they groaned. Felix's expression grew concerned, and then surprised in turn. "What's brought this on? Not that I'm complaining." He laced his fingers with Z's, swinging them softly together as they walked. The Detective sighed, leaning down to rest their head on their boyfriend's shoulder. It was awkward with Z's height advantage, but they made it work. A soft wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves in a quiet whisper. On occasion, a birdcall could be heard, the serenity of the forest giving a sense of security. An emerald sanctuary. As their feet crunched sticks and moss underfoot, Z sighed. "The others. They brought it up. You're always so...vocal. About how you feel. And I'm not. I want…" they huffed, hair brushing against the back of Felix's shoulder. "I want to give that back to you. I want you to know how much I...I...you know." "Hey," Felix said quietly. "Stop for a moment." He turned, moving to cup Z's face, look them directly in the eye. "You don't have to do anything for me. The others don't have to understand. I see you. I see how you call me first thing when you wake up, because you know I like hearing you be sleepy and getting to say good morning. I see how you wait for me, if I'm not there already, after work to hold my hand and let me walk you home. I see how you listen to everything that I say, how you pay attention and remember it, how your focus is never something I have to fight for. I see how you let me touch you, how you're physically affectionate with me, when I know you don't let anyone else get near. I don't have to hear it, Z. I see how much you love me, every single day." The Detective's cheeks were bright pink, the tall person held in place simply with Felix's eyes. He watched the gears turn rapidly in Z's head, processing and over-processing his words, probably submitting them to memory for further examination later. He knew they didn't mean anything malicious by it, it was simply how they dealt with intense moments and emotions. Finally, they leaned down to press their forehead to his. ".... you're too good to me," they whispered. "I want...I want to say it." They took Felix's hands, interlacing their fingers. "I want to. You know how I grew up. Every word needed to be measured and carefully applied, otherwise it would be used as a weapon against me. Feelings were a lie, and a good way to manipulate someone." They moved to kiss him softly, lovingly, tenderly. Pouring what they couldn't say into the motion. It was a good few seconds before either one of them could come back to the conversation, or coherency. Z sighed softly, pulling their joined hands to their cheek, pressing against it softly. Smiling as Felix's thumb stroked softly across the mass of scars hidden beneath their hair, wishing desperately that they could take him in with both eyes. They wished futilely that there was a way to regain the eye they'd lost, just so they could see him even clearer. "When I find the words," they murmured. "I'll tell you. You'll be the first to hear it. How much I care." Felix smiled. "I can't wait to hear it. I see it every day. You know I love you, Z." The Detective smiled at him. "Right back at you." They resumed the patrol, their hands swinging intertwined, a quiet moment together.

#The Wayhaven Chronicles #twc book 2 #felix hauville #My writing #sorry I can't help it I gotta have them h*ld h*nds #I know it's gross #thanks for reading!!!#seriously people who leave notes are literally what keeps my will to write going #I love you babes

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veliseraptor · 6 years ago

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do you understand that we will never be the same again, 2.5k, vague handwavy post-thanos au with tragic siblings (v. thor&loki) inspired by this post, suitcases full of trauma, don’t look at me I just live here

Thor practically clung to him.

Loki could not blame him - nor, in honesty, could he resent it. No small part of him was grateful: it let him, disjointed and fractured as he was, to steady himself against Thor, no matter how unsteady Thor himself might be.

Being alive was not the same as never having died, and he remembered far more of the latter than he would like. Not that that was something he discussed with Thor, or that Thor asked about, though sometimes with the way Thor looked at him Loki though he wondered.

But all of...that...was something better kept locked away, hidden, unthought as much as possible. And if sometimes he felt it there, closing on him like a hand tightening around his neck…

All he needed to do was find a quiet place where he could put his head against his knees and fight his own lungs until his breathing steadied.

And Thor, when not occupied with the business of governance (which he and Valkyrie pitched back and forth like it was a hot iron, while Heimdall kept things from bursting into flame), stayed close by, his eyes on Loki hungry, almost desperate.

It was not, strictly speaking, comfortable, but it was understandable, and Loki didn’t object. Thor was, after all, the only reason that he was alive.

And if Loki was honest...Thor was not the only one who needed it.

He’d tried sleeping alone. It hadn’t worked. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they shared a room, and a bed, as they hadn’t since they’d both been children, and both slept better for it. Not well, but better.

They were both so very far from whole. Loki didn’t know that they ever would be again.

At least they were alive.

For some reason, that thought made Loki want to laugh. He pressed it down, muffling the shaky breaths in his hands.

“Loki?”

Thor. Loki rose quickly, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, chasing away the worst of his shadowing thoughts. “Here,” he said. Thor rounded the corner and his smile was almost dazzling in its relief.

“There you are,” he said, as though Loki had been missing for days. “Would you like to join Val and I for a game?”

“Why not?” Loki said, calling up a smile that didn’t even feel much strained. “You might even manage to give me a challenge.”

Thor scowled at him, but there was no sincerity in it, the remnant of the relieved smile lingering. No matter how much of his performance was pretense, that remnant alone made it worth it.

Loki woke up to Thor muttering under his breath and tossing restlessly in his sleep.

That wasn’t unusual, any more than it was unusual for him to wake up with Thor holding him and hushing Loki, his throat raw from screaming.

In Thor’s indistinct words he heard Thanos and no, and his body tensed, chest tightening. He shoved the reaction down and reached out to lay a hand on Thor’s shoulder and soothe him back to sleep.

In the next second - less - he was on his back, Thor pinning him down, and Loki heard him snarl from somewhere far away “get your hands off him” but the only thing he could really register were the hands around his throat.

The only thing-

His thoughts fractured, split in two. He could see Thor, eyes wild, crackling with lightning, but he was diminishing, swallowed by the inside of a ship, the smell of blood, fighting for air as Thanos squeezed the life slowly out of him. He could have made it fast but he hadn’t, had wanted Loki to suffer, to see death closing in and he could hear himself speaking, forcing out some futile last defiant words as though that could cover up the fear, the terror of the abyss, the desperate hope that somehow, somehow-

The final crack felt somehow in his teeth, explosion of pain, over.

But it wasn’t over. He was still starving for air, his body screaming in protest, and he could hear Thor begging Loki, please, listen-

Thor hadn’t spoken.

His vision doubled again, broke, and he dropped back into his own body, on the floor with his back to the wall, choking on his own breaths, hands raised like claws. Thor was in front of him, several feet away, his eyes wide.

Loki forced air into his lungs and held it there. One, two, three. Exhale: one, two, three. Again. Again. Again.

His vision blurred. He swallowed, and felt the ache in his throat.

Thor. Thor’s fingers wrapped around his neck, and squeezing.

There was blood under his nails, and he could see scratches on Thor’s arms, on his face. He opened his mouth, but there were no words.

“Loki,” Thor said, his voice ragged and hoarse, “I didn’t mean to - I didn’t realize…”

“I know,” Loki said. His own voice was hoarse, and when he spoke his throat hurt. It’s all right, he should say, but it wasn’t. They were both quiet, other than the sound of Loki’s breathing, still too loud.

“I’ll go,” Thor said, his voice small.

“No,” Loki said, pushing himself up. “No, I will.” He avoided Thor’s eyes, the lost, miserable look on his face. If he didn’t...if he didn’t, he might let himself be pulled back in, and the thought of being close to Thor right now just made his heartbeat quicken.

“Loki,” Thor said, but Loki left quickly before he heard the end of the sentence.

He went out into the open air and gulped a few lungfuls of it. He sat down in the grass and tried to empty out his thoughts, but memory kept intruding, and Thor’s thumbs digging in, and what had been safe suddenly...wasn’t.

Shaky, unmoored, he held very still, staring at the cloudy night sky and trying to think of something happier, but he kept coming up empty.

Thor was avoiding him. Or maybe he was avoiding Thor, or maybe they were just avoiding each other. Loki wondered if Thor thought he was sparing Loki, or just didn’t want to deal with what had happened. In fairness, Loki didn’t know what there was to deal with. It wasn’t Thor’s fault he’d lashed out in the throes of a nightmare.

Loki should be able to let it go. Accept that Thor had not been trying to hurt him, and that he hadn’t, in the end, really been hurt.

What if next time he doesn’t stop?

“Whatever happened,” Valkyrie said, standing in the doorway of his newly adopted house, “you need to pull it together and deal with it.”

Loki stared at her, keeping his face blank. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Thor,” she said. “I’m expecting rainclouds to start rolling in any day now with how hard he’s been moping. And you’ve just plain vanished. I half thought you’d taken off.”

“I haven’t,” Loki said. “And it is really none of your business. I wouldn’t expect you to be interested in interfering.”

“I’m not,” Valkyrie said. “But Heimdall and I rolled for it and I lost. So here I am.”

“Your message is received,” Loki said. “Good day.”

She caught the door before he could close it. “Look,” she said, and then stopped. “If Thor fucked up, just go yell at him and get it over with. You don’t look like you’re having any fun either.”

“He didn’t,” Loki said flatly. “As I said, it is none of your business.”

“Should’ve fucking cheated,” Valkyrie muttered. He didn’t think he was meant to hear it. “If you’re not pissed at him, why are you avoiding him like he’s got the plague?”

“Did it occur to you that he might be avoiding me?”

Valkyrie just looked at him, and Loki breathed out through his nose. “It is between Thor and me. Not a concern of Asgard’s governing council.”

“It’s becoming a concern,” Valkyrie said.

“And why are you talking to me?” Loki asked. “And not to him?”

“I did,” she said. “Figured that’d be easier than trying to pry anything out of you. But he told me that it wasn’t his to share.”

“So you came to me after all.” Loki stared at her with her hand holding the door open. He could shove her out and lock the door in her face. It really wasn’t any of her business. And she wasn’t exactly an emotional supportive friend - or at least, not his.

“Yeah,” Valkyrie said. “I did.”

Loki tapped his fingers against his leg and said, “Thor had a nightmare and started strangling me. I suspect he feels bad about it.”

Valkyrie blinked, and then blinked again. “Oh,” she said.

Loki gave her a thin smile. “There you go,” he said. “Your missing puzzle piece. Feel free to go back to Thor and reassure him-”

“I doubt it’s my reassurance he wants,” Valkyrie said.

“Well, I haven’t any to give him,” Loki said, his voice rising sharply. “I am not going to - tell him that it’s fine, that it doesn’t matter-”

“Hold on,” Valkyrie said.

“He was supposed to be safe!” Loki said, and then heard himself, and wanted, a little, to slam the door between them and hope she forgot every word of this conversation.

But she wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t, and here they were staring at each other, her eyes a little wide like his outburst was the last thing she’d expected. Loki took a shaky breath in.

“Leave,” he said flatly.

“Yeah,” she said after a beat. “Yeah, okay. I’m gone.”

Wide awake, Loki tossed and turned, his eyes snapping open every time they started to close. He remembered Thor holding him when he’d returned, death spitting him out once again. He’d clutched Loki to him and sobbed like a child.

He remembered dying. The hope that his last pointless act in life would at least spare Thor, that Thanos would decide his death was enough and give Thor a chance to survive.

Let him live. At least give me that.

There was so little left.

He rose, and wrapped himself in a coat, and went outside. He wandered, with no particular intention, but his steps still brought him back to Thor’s door - and if that was not an apt metaphor, what was?

He knocked, half expecting no answer, but the door opened on Thor. He looked wretched. Exhausted, and miserable, and on seeing Loki his eyes widened. Loki waited for him to say something, but he seemed to be at a loss for words.

Finally he managed a weak, “do you want to come in?”

“Please,” Loki said. It sounded stilted, awkward. Felt it, too. But Thor stepped back to let him enter, giving him more room than he needed, and then hovered at a distance. Loki felt it between them like a chasm.

“You look tired,” Thor said abruptly. “Have you been sleeping?”

Loki cut him a sharp look. “Have you?”

He said nothing, only glanced away. Taking that for answer, Loki walked over and collapsed into one of the chairs.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said finally. “What happened.”

Thor made a strangled noise. “It was my hands.”

A frisson rippled down Loki’s spine and he pressed his hands together so they didn’t tremble. Somehow, his saying that made it easier. “It wasn’t yours that I felt.”

Thor fell quiet. Loki could feel his gaze, sidelong, and waited for the question he knew was coming.

“How much do you remember?” he asked.

“All of it,” he said. Proud of himself for how even it came out. “Beginning to...end.”

“Did you think...when you attacked him…”

“Did I think it would work? Not really.” Loki shrugged one shoulder. “It seemed likely it was your life or mine. I considered it a fair trade.” I still do. Most of the time.

Thor took a ragged breath. “It doesn’t work like that,” he said. “It isn’t - your life isn’t something to be traded away.” Loki said nothing, and Thor lurched toward him, reaching out, only to stop. He held his tongue carefully so he didn’t say then what else is it good for?

He did wonder, sometimes.

“I kept waking up,” Thor said, after a long pause. “These past...in the middle of the night, I woke, afraid, and reached to find you, and you were not there. And for a moment, each time, I thought…” He trailed off. “So often, in the past years, you have...been gone.”

Loki stared down at his hands. “I know.”

“I should have saved you,” Thor said. “Every time, I should have - but I didn’t. You say it was worth it. I cannot feel that it was.”

Loki’s tongue was tied in knots. He had to try, several times, before he could speak. “It was my choice.”

“I know,” Thor said. “That does not actually make me any happier about it.” Silence hung heavily between them, and finally Thor sighed. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, and then said, “Do you think we can fit a second bed in here?”

Thor blinked at him. Loki shrugged and avoided his eyes. “I am not...I wasn’t just staying here for your sake. I don’t think I can...but perhaps in the same room would be enough?”

He posed it as a question, or meant to, but it came out plaintive.

“I don’t expect,” Thor started to say, but Loki interrupted.

“I don’t want you to martyr yourself and claim it is for my sake.”

“Then what do you want?” Thor asked. Desperate, a plea of its own, the need for some real answer. Thor had never done well with helplessness. Always, he’d railed against it, seeking for something he could fix.

That was the trouble, though: there was nothing here that could be fixed.

“I want to hold on to what is left,” Loki said.

“Such as it is,” Thor said, with unaccustomed bitterness.

“Yes,” Loki said after a hitch of a moment. “Such as it is. Can that not be enough?”

Can’t I be enough?

“Is it?” Thor said, his voice ragged, and then shook himself and said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” He tried to smile. “You could consider it fair return for the number of times I’ve hurt you.”

Thor shook his head. “Loki…”

Norns, he was so tired. “It’s all right,” he said. “We will...find a way past this. As we have everything else. Eventually.”

Thor stared at him, then made a sound in his throat and this time didn’t stop himself, pulling Loki up and into his arms, holding him a little too tightly. “Just don’t leave,” he said. “Just don’t...please.”

Loki closed his eyes. “I won’t,” he said, knowing it might be a lie. Save once, he’d never wanted to before. That hadn’t mattered, when it came to it.

For a flash of a moment, he saw Thor’s face looking down at him, his snarl, his thumbs digging in as Loki’s heart hammered to break his chest-

He flinched and it was gone.

But not forgotten.

#a wild fic appeared #tragic siblings #loki's a goddamn mess #thor is my favorite puppy #endgame fix it #well more like ignores endgame entirely but whatever #just a wee bit of angsty hurt comfort #written while i should've been writing other things what else is new #absolutely zero spoilers

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ladylillianrose · 4 years ago

Text

You’ve Got SPRQS a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

A/N: You guys I am so overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter! I know everyone had been looking forward to that moment between them! Thank you all for your comments, kudos, and for reading this! You all keep me writing!

As always a big thank you to my beta aubreyrichman!

Still just borrowing them, but I'm taking good care of them for Austin Winsberg in the meantime!

Summary: Max and Zoey take Peter to his playdate

Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 8

The next morning Max woke to the sound of the smoke alarm going off. He jumped out of bed and ran out to the kitchen confused.

*MROWR*

"Shhh Ollie, I know it's loud!" Zoey flailed a wooden spoon ineffectively at the smoke alarm, attempting to reach the button.

Max chuckled and walked over to turn the smoke alarm off.

Zoey jumped, startled at his sudden appearance. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She winced.

"No, I was awake anyway, " Max fibbed. Zoey gave him a look that said she didn't believe him for a moment.

Ollie wove between the two of them, happily purring and chirping at them.

"Do I even want to know what made the alarm go off?" Max asked, his nose wrinkling at the smell of burnt toast.

Zoey shook her head, turning to place the scorched pan in the sink and run water over it.

"I was attempting to make us breakfast, but your kitchen hates me," she pouted.

Max chuckled, "Ahhh yes, I forgot to mention that my kitchen only likes people who can cook."

Zoey smacked his arm playfully, "I can cook plenty of things, Maxwell Richman!"

"Microwaveable foods do not count, Zo."

She huffed, "They do too. Besides I made coffee, that didn't get ruined!"

Max muttered something that sounded like, “Thank God." He poured a cup for each of them, remembering to add 3 sugars to Zoey's before handing it to her.

She blushed as she remembered what he had said to her…. well Red about how sweet she liked her coffee.

She cleared her throat, "Drink up. Then we can swing by my place so I can change, and we should still have enough time to grab breakfast before we have to go get Peter."

Max smiled at her from over his mug, offering her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Zoey shook her head at him as he drained his mug. He walked by her on his way to get ready, stopping to squeeze her shoulder. "Thanks for staying last night. You're a really good friend."

"Of course, that's what best friends are for," she said plastering a smile on her face.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower, I'll just be a few minutes," he said.

Zoey nodded distractedly, taking another sip of her coffee. She had spent the evening before trying to find ways to keep Max’s mind off of being stood up, but also trying to keep herself from blurting out the truth about Red. They were up half the night watching movies until Max had suggested that she stay the night. She tried to sleep, but her mind kept wandering to how sad Max had looked when he realized that Red wasn’t coming. She had made the right choice in not telling him about Red….right?

She glanced up at a noise from the hall, Max had finished his shower. He was standing in the hall running a towel across his hair, wearing only a towel slung low on his hips. Zoey quickly turned her moan into a cough as she took in the image before her. Any coherent thoughts she may have just had, went out the window as she stared at his toned body. She cleared her throat and Max pulled the towel off his head and grinned sheepishly. "Forgot my clothes."

Zoey nodded as she swallowed, "I don't think I've ever seen you with your shirt off before...are you, secret buff?"

Max grinned at her as he flexed his arm, "I've been dabbling a little bit in the muscular arts, yeah sure."

Not trusting herself to say anything else Zoey just nodded, unable to take her eyes off his chest.

"Hey Zoey, my eyes are up here*," he teased as he caught her staring. He winked playfully at her and walked into his bedroom closing the door behind him.

She blushed and quickly took a sip of her coffee to distract herself.

"Be just a minute, then we can go," he called to her.

Zoey felt Ollie nudging his head against her hand, demanding attention. "Ollie, your Dad is trying to kill me, I swear," she groaned. Ollie chirped in agreement, purring loudly as she pet him.

By the time Max emerged, Zoey had managed to calm her racing heart and flushed cheeks.

They quickly headed to Zoey's apartment so she could change.

"I'll run and grab us bagels from around the corner while you get ready," Max offered. "Be right back!"

Zoey slowly walked up the stairs to her apartment, pausing as Mo's door opened.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to come home," he grinned at her. "So, I take it Max was okay once you told him the truth?"

"I…. ummm...I didn't tell him." Zoey mumbled as she unlocked her door.

Mo followed her inside quickly, "What do you mean you didn't tell him?!"

"Shhh, he's going to be here at any moment!"

Mo rolled his eyes, "What the hell is wrong with you child?"

"Mo I couldn't tell him. He was expecting Red, you should have seen his face when he was talking about her. I couldn't let him down," Zoey explained. She quickly grabbed a sweater, pulled it over her head, and slipped on a pair of leggings.

"But you and Red are the same person!" Mo huffed in exasperation. "Fine, what does Red plan on saying about standing him up then?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet,” she said worrying her lip.

"Well, you better think of something soon. That poor boy deserves an explanation!" Mo shook his head and headed back to his apartment, just as Max came up the stairs.

"Was that Mo I just heard?" He asked, opening the bag and handing Zoey her bagel.

She nodded, "He was just apologizing for ditching me for Eddy last night."

"Would it be bad if I said I was happy that happened?"

Zoey looked at him questioningly with her mouth full.

Max's cheeks reddened, "Well if Mo hadn't ditched you, then you wouldn't have shown up at the cafe last night. And you wouldn't have rescued me from the awkwardness of waiting for a date that didn't show."

Zoey swallowed, she didn’t deserve his appreciation. She was the one responsible for his date not happening in the first place. Not that he was aware of that, but Mo was right. Max did deserve an explanation, Red owed him that much.

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm here whenever you need me."

Max smiled softly at her, as they finished their breakfast in silence.

"You ready for this playdate?" Max asked as they got in his car.

"Not even remotely," Zoey laughed.

"Aww come on, it's just a few infants, how bad can it be?" Max teased.

________________________________________________________________

"Oh, you must be Peter's, Auntie Zoey!" A bubbly blonde woman who introduced herself as Julie greeted them. "And who do you have with you?" She not so discreetly eyed Max up and down, as he removed Peter from his carrier.

"Oh umm, this is Max," Zoey awkwardly started, gesturing to him.

"Oh, lucky you, Peter! Auntie Zoey and Uncle Max both brought you today! Well, welcome to you both!"

"Oh, umm...I'm not…" Max began, attempting to correct the woman.

"This is Kayleigh, my little girl," she said gesturing to the baby on her hip. "She's the same age as Peter and Olivia. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others!" Julie led them over to a large blanket where there were two other mothers sitting with their children.

"That's Linda and Grayson. Grayson is about a month younger than Peter and Kayleigh. And over there is Phoebe and her little girl Olivia."

Zoey and Max said hello and waved as they took a seat on the blanket.

Julie and the other mothers chatted amongst themselves, discussing their children, mutual friends, and their family’s plans for the rest of the weekend. Zoey found herself sitting there awkwardly, unsure of how to contribute to the conversation. She glanced at Max and shrugged her shoulders at the situation.

Max smiled encouragingly at her and sat Peter in a seated position next to Olivia and Grayson. Peter rolled himself forward onto his stomach and turned to glance back at Max.

"Oh, you want me to join you?" Max smiled, as he lay down on his stomach next to him. "How's that?"

Peter grinned and patted Max's cheek affectionately. The other infants soon began to interact with Max as well, handing him toys, making noises at him, and listening as he spoke with them.

Zoey smiled as she watched them together. She glanced up when she realized the other women had gone quiet. They were all quietly watching Max as he played with the children

Julie leaned over to Zoey, "Your husband is a natural, you are very lucky."

"Oh, we're not…." She tried to explain.

"Good practice for the future," she winked at her before turning to ask Phoebe a question.

Zoey flushed at Julie's implications. Max glanced up at her, "Everything okay?" he whispered.

Zoey nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The children played for about thirty minutes together, before they started to get cranky.

"And that's our cue," Julie said smiling at Max and Zoey. "We usually try and time our playdates to end around naptime. That way they get all their energy out playing with each other, and nap slightly little better when we get home.”

Zoey nodded; their plan seemed to make sense to her.

"Give Emily our love! You're both welcome to join us anytime!" Julie told them.

They said their goodbyes and bundled a sleeping Peter into the car quickly.

"Thank you for coming with me. I don't think I could have survived without you there. You were great with all the kids," Zoey smiled at him.

"Well I have had practice with my nieces and nephews," he grinned. "And as for going with you, what are friends for?"

Friend. There was that dreaded word again. She sighed, and Max glanced at her in concern.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little worn out," she replied.

"Go ahead and take a quick nap, I'll wake you when we get there," Max offered.

Zoey smiled softly at him and nodded, leaning her head against the window and slowly drifting off to sleep.

________________________________________________________________

Max glanced over as she fell asleep. It was no wonder she was exhausted; they had stayed up half the night watching movies and talking about everything and nothing. Once he had realized how late it had gotten, he offered to let her stay the night. She could take his bed, and he would sleep on the sofa. She was stubborn though and had insisted that they had enough room to share the bed.

He had lain awake while she slept, trying to puzzle out where things had gone wrong with Red. She had been the one to suggest the meeting, was she having second thoughts? Maybe his last song had been too much too soon. He knew that he was falling for Red and quickly, but what if she didn't feel the same? He was worried about her lack of response and hoped that nothing had happened to her. He reached for his watch on the nightstand and decided to send her another message.

I just want to make sure that you are okay.

After that, he had finally fallen asleep, before being rudely awakened by the smoke alarm. He shook his head fondly at the thought of Zoey attempting to cook them breakfast. She was adorable, a menace in the kitchen, but adorable, nonetheless. It was one of the things he loved about her.

He sighed, as he pulled up to the curb, glancing at his watch in hopes of a response from Red. Nothing.

He got out and quietly carried Peter into his parents. Unlike his Aunt, Peter was now wide awake after his short nap. Max grinned as he said his goodbyes and returned to the car, heading towards Zoey's apartment.

When they arrived, he nudged her awake gently, she yawned and smiled at him. Realizing they were at her building she quickly turned to look at the backseat.

"I took Peter home first. Figured I'd let you sleep as much as you could since we were up late last night."

Zoey nodded and smiled at him. She got out of the car and Max walked with her to her door.

"So, I'll see you on Monday?" Max said as she unlocked her door.

Zoey nodded, "Monday."

He turned to go but stopped as he felt her hand on his arm. Without a second thought, she pulled him into a hug. Max froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her and returning the hug.

She pulled back and smiled at him. "I just thought you might need one of those."

Max nodded and smiled at her. Her cheeks were flushed, "Well, see you on Monday." She waved slightly and disappeared into her apartment.

Max made his way slowly back to his car. As he started the engine, he felt his watch buzz, he looked down and saw a message from Red.

I'm okay…. I’m sorry...I owe you an explanation...

#Clarkeman #clarkeman fanfiction #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #max richman #zoey clarke #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #Zoeysplaylist fanfiction #zoeysplaylist #Zoeys playlist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #fanfiction #You've Got SPRQS

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moviegroovies · 5 years ago

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oh my go d i swore to myself i would stop until at least tomorrow with the headcanons but now that i’ve opened up the floodgates they just keep coming so here we go, part 2!!!!

out of all the lost boys (other than michael, obviously), paul is the one who would get along the best with sam, if the vampires and the emersons ever figure out how to make peace with one another. in fact, they have pretty similar interests; paul’s into mtv, too, and he hangs around stores with tvs all night trying to catch a glimpse of it, probably running into sam once in a while without even noticing when sam’s out doing the same. plus, he’d never admit it, but he thinks sam’s clothes are pretty cool...

not that he’d give up his rocker style for it

or that david would LET him ruin the group’s aesthetic by giving up his rocker style for it dshgfdhg

in general paul’s pretty good with kids, but in like a “fun uncle” way. he’s DEFINITELY not suited to be a child’s main caretaker, but he likes things they like, so he’d be good at having fun with them: taking them out for ice cream or the arcade, palling around, that kind of thing. he’s probably the kind of guy who dares kids to do dangerous shit without ever considering whether or not they’ll, you know, be okay.

dwayne on the other hand is intensely cognizant of that stuff, to the point of anxiety; even if he doesn’t actually stop the goings on he’s just Super Aware it’s happening and he won’t relax until the kid’s feet are on the fucking ground, thank you.

which isn’t to say that kids don’t think dwayne is fun. really, all of the lost boys (including star) are more suited to be fun uncles + aunt (or more accurately, fun older sibling types) than actual parents. the whole group is mostly about having good times forever, so it’s not like them to get bogged down in responsibility and adult stuff. that’s not on their radar.

marko and paul goof around together a lot. you know how i said paul would unthinkingly dare human children to do dangerous stuff? IMAGINE the kind of shit he tries to get an invulnerable immortal to do. half the time they spend with each other is just spent trying to think of increasingly awful things to wish on the other until one of them finally backs down from a dare, which can take weeks.

other people can get dragged into these battles; dwayne is the most frequent victim until michael shows up and does so many dumbass things because he doesn’t quite realize he’s being hazed.

david HATES it

he thinks they’re all being dumb and immature as hell, but at the same time, he’s no more mature than they are, no matter how much he likes to act it. if one of them goes “i triple dog dare you,” he’s going to hold out for about three seconds before his pride gets the better of him and oops, there he goes, off to do the stupid thing

michael figures this out about him fairly quickly, and one such dare is the way he finally gets his revenge for getting tricked into giving up his mortality and that whole incident with the train on the bridge

one fought shark and two weeks of watching david regrow partially missing limbs later, nobody fucks with michael anymore. go figure.

ok honestly i have even less to go on with jasper than i do for the rest of the lost boys, which is already fairly sparse, but i want to think about him so I Am.

based on the lost boys: the beginning script (what little there is of him in it, honestly--he’s definitely got the least lines, never mind that he isn’t even in the real movie), my characterization of him would revolve around him being a bit of a dandy. kind of thinks of himself as a gentleman thief, the montparnasse of the group, if you get what i’m saying. he’s not actually all that slick (never mind the bad poetry he writes), but he tries to dress a little better than the others, and they let him think he’s a wine connoisseur when they really suspect he’s just teetering on alcoholism.

underneath the prettyboy poet thing, he has the capacity to be kind of nasty if the opportunity presents itself (on the sliding scale of control to bloodthirst from my last post, i’d put him below dwayne but above marko, making him semi-controlled, but still liable to go vicious on a hunt), but when he was human, he mostly preferred to run from fights rather than fight them--he was the fastest of the group (after his death, david briefly took that place, until star showed up), and had the best hands for pickpocketing.

he’s also a little bit of a dork underneath it all. when he’s had a little too much to drink he’s liable to gush about his affection for his friends, or a stranger, or anyone who gets within gushing distance. everybody gave him a hard time about it, but once he’s gone, they secretly feel like they should have appreciated it more when he was around.

on the other hand, he could be somewhat prone to bouts of melancholy.

dwayne said Gay Rights.

when jasper was alive, the two of them were the closest, having a pretty steady (though not entirely monogamous) relationship over the course of about a year of their human lives and around three or four solid decades of vampirism. the other guys knew, naturally, but apart from some mild teasing, they mostly just let it be. it’s not like any of them are particularly straight--if anything, they were probably just jealous that they found each other and had a relationship that made them that happy. not that they’d ever say that, of course.

the end of the prequel script almost made me think that jasper died then, somehow? but then he said something new a few lines after the line that made me think that, so i’m just going to work off the assumption that he lived through that and died later.

instead, i think he was killed by grandpa emerson and some other vampire hunters when grandpa was in his prime.

in the wake of jasper’s death, the whole gang kind of falls apart. even after all these years of killing, none of them have ever dealt with real loss, the loss of a blood brother (or, in dwayne’s case, a dude he’s been in love with for a much longer stretch of his life than the part where he wasn’t) before. the only thing they can all agree on is that they have to get revenge immediately.

even though he’s never been on the front lines of these hunts, it’s a unanimous agreement that dwayne lead the charge to find the hunters who killed jasper. for once, when they get to the group, dwayne isn’t feeding, he’s just annihilating every single person even tangentially involved. the only person who escapes the massacre with his life is grandpa emerson, who just barely makes it out unnoticed in the aftermath of the thing, when david finally has to physically remove dwayne from the corpses and take him back to the cave for his own good. even then, he’s in no condition to hunt vampires for months, and even when he recovers, he never gets his full health back. instead, he lies low, the thought that the vampires will one day realize what they missed eternally ringing at the back of his mind, and moves his wife and young daughter outside of the city limits, staying away from santa carla as much as he can.

that’s pretty much it on hunting for grandpa emerson. at least, for the next few decades, that is...

after a few years, things go more or less back to normal for the lost boys, except with the loss of the relatively quiet, subdued jasper, the group’s dynamic takes a little bit of a turn for the worse. dwayne’s more nonverbal than ever, and also a little wilder, a little more inclined toward violence when he remembers the last humans who got too close to their dwelling. marko, seeing the opportunity, tends toward more extreme violence in those days, and paul, who gets easily drawn in by the smell and sight of blood, tends to follow suit. even david finds himself lost in the kill sometimes, coming to hours afterward and realizing that he’d been clumsy, even reckless, in his hunting the night before.

they’re all making mistakes and egging each other on, and david doesn’t like it. he’s got the presence of mind (not to mention the eternal protective instinct regarding his friends) to realize that they’re spiraling, and if they keep it up like this, more hunters are going to rise in the place of the ones they killed. this starts a search for a more level-headed member of their group to replace jasper, a search that, naturally, leads him to star.

her inclusion to the group definitely helps things. the guys, having lived in pure testosterone for some 60 odd years, are a little awkward in her presence, and for the first year or so, they’re quieter when she’s around, trying to impress her.

they all go out and get the canopy bed especially for her (they do like her, from the beginning) when it becomes obvious that star’s penchant for long skirts will only make things awkward if she tries to sleep upside down with them, not to mention their mutual unease regarding a co-ed bat cave.

they have no idea what girls, especially girls in the 70′s, like, but they try to dress it up and they’re very proud when they present it to her.

from the beginning, star doesn’t trust marko all that much--she refuses to be alone with him, and forms a habit around being on the other side of the room from him in group settings. it sort of pisses marko off (mostly just because he doesn’t understand why), but david sees this and understands, intervening in such a way that leaves marko no room for argument whenever he tries to confront her about it.

star doesn’t like david, either, mostly due to the growing resentments she builds over the decade and a half she spends with them for him letting her become a vampire. her hatred, given that it was her decision (that she’d asked him specifically to make her a vampire) pisses david off a lot, but he lets her get away with a lot, too, because he remembers how much he fought against being turned, and can understand her moral dilemma.

star feels the safest when dwayne is around, but she had some fun times goofing off with paul and dancing to the radio. those times were probably the ones where she regretted her decision to join the lost boys the least.

dwayne’s residual anger and bloodlust from the incident with jasper finally starts to fade when she shows up, which david notices and appreciates

still, her inner conflict over joining them is obvious and leads to a different kind of tension in the group, so he has to keep searching for another member to cool things down.

hence: laddie

honestly i can’t tell what i think about the origin of his inclusion. part of me thinks it could be a claudia in iwtv situation, where david tries babytrapping star, banking on the idea that she won’t be able to leave if she knows there’s a little kid there that she has a duty to protect. on the other hand, david intentionally condemning a little kid to a kind of stunted half life where he can’t grow up and is taken away from his parents sort of conflicts with the david that unrobbed a dude because he saw that the guy had little kids relying on him, and anyway, up until this point, david had only known star as a somewhat reckless teenage girl; banking on her having a maternal instinct he’d seen no proof of seems like an awfully big gamble.

so what i’m thinking is more like: david kept looking for a sixth member, but he was looking at the young adults in their age range on the boardwalk, not children. instead, some unforseen event happens around the same time as he’s looking (i’m thinking maybe the boys go too far when hunting one night and laddie got seriously injured in the crossfires, leading dwayne or star or david to take him back to the hotel for blood to save his life), and bam: sixth member.

i think his inclusion kind of does what david wanted it to do and kind of Doesn’t.

like, as soon as he shows up, star completely lets go of any notion of leaving the group and running away, which is good. at the same time, though, she resents david even more for turning laddie, even if it saved his life (naturally, it was the boys’ fault that laddie was in danger in the first place, so she kind of has a point) and now she’s always preoccupied with questions about turning back and she spends a lot of time mourning her humanity.

so david is still fucking looking for another person to even this new mess out.

i think laddie and star both have instincts on some level (or, if laddie doesn’t, he’s guided by star, and star does) about the safest place to be in the semi-volatile vampire den at any time. like, star visibly doesn’t get along very well with david, but she still knows that he’s got the most self control and at least some semblance of a moral code, so when it comes down to it, she hovers around him. they’re definitely not dating, and never were, but it could easily seem that way to an outsider; on the boardwalk, when she’s with the boys, she sticks as close to david as she can, and if she’s riding on the back of anyone’s bike, it’s his (she also only lets laddie ride with either david, if she’s not riding, or, more often, dwayne. paul and marko are strictly off limits).

david is also possessive of her, because to david, she’s one of them, and he can tell that half the guys he’ll find her with (the way he found her with michael), she’s just throwing herself at because she wants out of the group, away from the lost boys, and he feels like he’s got to remind her where she belongs.

it’s pretty toxic, really. over the tense year or so the group exists as we see it at the beginning of the film, david, dwayne, marko, paul, star, and laddie, things only get worse as david’s temper starts to heat up and star clashes with him at just about every opportunity. things are getting to the point where they HAVE to break, and finally they do:

michael moves into town.

at first, david sees him as just another escape for star (the same way star sees him, really). when david issues a challenge and michael responds to it, and not only that, for a split second, he’s winning, beating david’s bike despite being indisputably outclassed, though, david starts to see potential... a potential which shines through when michael shows his anger, picks a fight (and what passion!), and still follows them back to the cave, not because star is going to be there, but because david is.

on the way there, he decides that michael is the final missing link they’ve been needing. he doesn’t know, yet, about max’s infatuation with lucy, or the plan to put the blood sucking brady bunch together. he just knows, in that moment, that his boys are teetering on the edge of irreconcilable dysfunction, and michael is the final piece he needs to fix it: he’s calm enough that he won’t add to marko and paul’s mania, but still fiery enough that his voice will come into play in favor of more thought-out decisions. plus, he can tell the boys are starting to like him (of course, they like anyone who takes a swing at david, even if they’d be tearing the perpetrator to pieces in seconds if they thought the swing was taken with legitimate malice behind it), and he knew from the first second that star did. michael is one of them.

with this thought in his mind, david is the one who becomes reckless in his need to convert michael. he gets sloppy.... but, since these are my headcanons and i get to choose the rules, i’m just going to say that eventually, things work out, michael becomes the final member of the gang, and everyone lives happily ever after.

holy shit, i just wrote a goddamn timeline.

i mean. wow, i think i’ve written less intricate fanfiction, fuck.

well, if you’ve made it this far, i’ve got a few more fun and low-stakes (ha, ha) headcanons as a reward for you, before i give this post the mercy killing it is begging for

david likes movies.

not just good movies.

david and the gang sneak into the cinema pretty much every time they get something new, and no matter how cheesy the dialogue or how predictable the plot twists are, he’s totally entrenched. it makes sense on a certain level, probably, if you consider that when he was growing up even silent films weren’t so much as a whisper on the horizon, but still, there’s a definite element of cognitive dissonance involved in watching the strict and intimidating leader of their gang clap and cheer at the end of every shitty b-movie that comes to their local theater. i mean, really.

it’s after he goes on a few of these movie nights with everyone that michael finally starts to really warm up to david. he wants to still be mad about the way things went down, but at the end of the day... it’s kind of hard to be scared of a guy you’ve seen cry at the end of working girl.

marko and paul really like action flicks; paul gets into action-adventure, while marko is more into the slasher genre (although secretly, he’s more than a little intruiged by pretty, indie movies they show in the art house... not that he’d be caught dead there in a million years). dwayne, on the other hand, goes to those movies with them, but in his heart he just really likes comedies. they’re fun. sue him.

david would say he prefers horror, but it’s only barely the truth. he does like horror movies... but at the same time, he likes every other genre and practically every other film he’s ever seen. vampire movies are always his favorites, though, for personal reasons.

star doesn’t go to the movies with them a lot, but she enjoys the occasional blockbuster with the guys, and she takes laddie to see more family-oriented films when he asks.

michael..... likes romances. he’s always so embarrassed to be there with all the ladies his mother’s age, but there he is in the audience, hiding his face behind his hand, totally fucking loving this. hey, at least david is there too, throwing popcorn at the horny couples making out in the row ahead of them and getting just as horrifyingly into the plot as he is.

they never talk about those movies after they’re over. what happens in the santa carla movie theater stays in the santa carla movie theater.

not that this is any particular place for a good end for this post, but this is the last thing i have for now: when michael moves into the hotel with everyone else, he elects to sleep in the canopy bed with star, rather than hanging from the ceiling with the guys. they start ribbing on him constantly for this--saying that the main room of the cave must be reserved for women and children--but the joke’s on them, in michael’s opinion--not only is he not hanging by his feet from the alcoves, but he’s also the one who sleeps holding a beautiful girl every day. things could be a lot worse.

#the lost boys #text post #headcanons #paul #sam emerson #david #dwayne #marko #star #michael emerson #grandpa emerson #laddie #jasper #man what do i even have left to say i've SAID IT ALL #this is everything i've got #take it or leave it gfdshgfh #just kidding i'll probably be back with more tomorrow

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splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

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When Gray’s girlfriend dumps him right before Christmas, he’s stuck with a non-refundable, three-week holiday to Paris. Without another choice, he agrees to go with a stranger - a man who is remarkably charismatic, and a lot cuter than Gray is willing to admit. It’s supposed to be platonic (Gray’s straight, right?), but Paris isn’t called the City of Love for nothing.

@ftmlmages

Chapters (6/7): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Cana Alberona Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Holidays, Vacation, Christmas, Paris (City), Romantic Fluff, Mutual Pining, Holding Hands, First Kiss, Trans Character, Falling In Love, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Gray thinks he’s straight but he’s not, Natsu falls in love hard, Gray speaks French because reasons

-----

They spend all of Christmas in bed, half-clothed and sleepy, trading soft touches and kisses and quiet words meant only for each other. When Gray wakes slowly the next day, wrapped around Natsu with their legs tangled together and Natsu’s hand in his, there’s a warmth in Gray’s chest that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Hey,” Natsu murmurs sleepily as Gray pulls him close, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

“Mornin’,” Gray says, lips tracing the words against Natsu’s skin. “As-tu bien dormi?”

“Mmm,” Natsu says, then rolls onto his back, stretching and humming happily when Gray’s hand slips under his shirt and splays across his stomach. “I’m really glad this wasn’t just a dream.”

Gray laughs, pushing himself up on his elbow and drawing lazy patterns up Natsu’s ribs with his fingertips. “Me too,” he admits. He’s mesmerized by the soft smattering of freckles across Natsu’s nose, and the way his skin turns gold in the sunlight spilling across the bed.

“Mmmm.” Natsu reaches up and pulls Gray down for a soft, sweet kiss, then brushes their noses together and pulls back. “As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the week in bed, I think I need coffee.”

Gray hums in agreement, pressing another kiss to Natsu’s forehead before sitting up and stretching. He quickly realizes he’s not wearing a shirt but before he can feel awkward about it, Natsu’s lips brush against the top of his shoulder.

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“Thought you wanted to get up,” Gray murmurs, tipping his head to the side as a warm arm wraps around his waist and pulls him close. Natsu kisses slowly across Gray’s shoulder, each press of his lips gentle and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize the way Gray feels against him.

“I do,” Natsu agrees, rubbing his thumb in circles over Gray’s hip, “mais t’es irrésistible. Est-ce que je veux des becs, ou du café?”

“Both,” Gray says, torn between curling back up under the duvet, and forcing himself to go shower. Despite Natsu’s gentle touches, showering eventually wins out, and he stands self-consciously, glad that he’s still wearing his sweatpants. “I’m gonna, uh…”

Natsu looks up at Gray, head tipped to the side, hair messy and cheeks pink, too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder. It’s almost too much for Gray, and he quickly looks away, grabbing his phone from the side table and darting away to the bathroom.

They end up back at the same café, with the same waitress, and Natsu doesn’t miss the sly grin she gives him when she sees that they’re holding hands. Gray stares at his breakfast with a shy smile on his face, peeking up at Natsu occasionally as a red flush creeps across his cheeks.

“You’re adorable,” Natsu says around a bite of his croissant, catching Gray’s ankle with his foot under the table. Gray’s face turns an even darker shade of red, but he doesn’t stop smiling.

After breakfast, Natsu leads Gray down the street away from the restaurant.

“Where are we going?” Gray asks, frowning.

“Surprise,” is all Natsu will say.

They end up taking the Métro, which is surprisingly crowded for the day after Christmas. It’s standing room only, and a fond sense of relief flows through Natsu when Gray pulls him close and shields him from the crowd.

“Okay?” Gray murmurs in his ear, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of Natsu’s neck. Natsu nods, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Gray’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he mumbles into Gray’s jacket. He feels safe here, in Gray’s arms – like they’re the only two people and he’s not suffocating in the crowd.

Leaving the Métro station is a relief, and Natsu eagerly pulls Gray down the street until they’re standing outside a building draped with Christmas lights and a sign that says Café des Chats.

“A cat café?” Gray asks, eyes widening as Natsu pushes the door open. It’s warm and cozy inside, with dark blue walls and an eclectic mix of furniture. A slim, Siamese cat with wide blue eyes hops lazily down from one of the tables and saunters over to them, rubbing itself against Gray’s legs.

“You said you liked cats,” Natsu said as Gray crouched down, reaching out his hand for the cat to sniff. “I thought you might—”

“This is amazing,” Gray breathes as the cat rubs its face against his fingers.

Natsu orders them another coffee as he watches Gray settle onto one of the couches, smiling when two other cats immediately hop up and rub themselves against him. He looks entranced, gazing adoringly at the cat that climbs into his lap as he runs a gentle finger across its nose.

“I used to have a cat,” he says quietly once Natsu returns with their coffee and sits down next to him. “She was my mom’s. Her name was Snowflake.”

Natsu hesitates before gently asking, “What happened?”

Gray doesn’t answer right away. The cat in his lap kneads his sweater for a bit, then turns in several circles and curls up with its tail over its nose. Gray runs his fingers through her fur.

“I’m adopted,” he says eventually. “My parents died when I was eight. My mom – the one from Lebanon – was best friends with my dad, so when he died, she and her wife adopted me.” Natsu makes a sad sound and rubs his thumb over the back of Gray’s hand. “It was a fire; Snowflake was with them.”

“I’m so sorry,” Natsu murmurs, slipping their fingers together. Gray gives him a sad half-smile.

“Thanks. I miss them a lot.” He scratches the cat behind its ears, and Natsu can hear it purring. “I love my moms, though; they’re amazing. And they had three other kids already, so I’ve got brothers and sisters now, which is cool. It just hurts some days more than others.”

“I know,” Natsu says. Gray looks at him and Natsu adds, “My parents aren’t around either.” He sighs, looking down at their joined hands. “They left when I was little, they had… issues, and I’ve lived with my gramma for a long time. Both Wendy and I. Which is better than living with my parents, because they aren’t safe people to be around, but I still miss them?”

Gray nods, tipping his head against Natsu’s. “It sucks,” he says.

They’re quiet for a while, listening to the rumble of the cat in Gray’s lap, and eventually Gray says, “I’ve actually been thinking about getting a kitten.”

“I have a cat,” Natsu says. Gray looks up at him and Natsu immediately turns pink. “Not—I didn’t mean like, living… just, you could visit him? He’d like you.”

Gray laughs, squeezing Natsu’s hand and nodding. “Sounds good,” he says. “It’s a date.”

When they get back to the hotel that evening, Gray takes his time kicking off his boots and shrugging off his coat. When he finally turns to Natsu, his expression is uncertain.

“What’s wrong?” Natsu asks gently. He takes Gray’s hands and sits down on the bed, pulling Gray close as he runs his thumbs over Gray’s knuckles.

“I…” Gray chews his lip and lets out a quiet sigh before admitting, “I’ve never dated a guy before.” He looks up at Natsu. “That’s what this… we’re…”

“Yeah,” Natsu says, squeezing Gray’s hands. “I want you to be my boyfriend. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Gray says, looking back down at their hands. “Yeah, I… I just…”

Natsu shifts backward on the bed, pulling Gray after him until they’re lying on their sides facing each other, knees touching, hands clasped between them. “I really, really like you,” Natsu says, bringing his other hand up to touch Gray’s cheek. “And we can take this as slow as you want, okay?”

Gray nods, and Natsu slowly runs his thumb across the anxious tension in Gray’s jaw. “I thought…” Gray hesitates. “I never really thought about��I’d never liked a guy, before you?”

Natsu smiles, shifting closer and nudging his knee between Gray’s legs. “Guess I’m special, then,” he teases. He expects Gray to laugh, or to blush or stammer. What he doesn’t expect is for Gray to meet his eyes and whisper, “You are.”

“Oh.” It’s Natsu’s turn to blush now, and he leans in to touch his forehead to Gray’s. “You… you too.”

Gray looks like he might say something else, but instead he kisses Natsu, drawing him in with a cautious enthusiasm like he can’t quite believe this is real. Natsu moves against him eagerly, sliding his hand down Gray’s back and tracing the shape of his ribs, opening up to Gray in a way he never has with anyone before.

When Gray eventually pulls back, a dizzy happiness bubbles in Natsu’s chest, and he almost feels like crying from the force of it.

“Can we… just, maybe, keep doing…” Gray gestures between them and Natsu nods, rubbing his thumb over Gray’s hipbone.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.” He kisses Gray again, then murmurs against his lips, “We can do whatever you want.”

The trip comes to an end much too soon, but after three weeks of living out of a suitcase, Gray is eager to get home and sleep in his own bed. Or maybe Natsu’s bed. They haven’t talked about it yet – about what their relationship will look like once they’re not in each other’s immediate orbit every day.

When the hotel concierge checks them out of the hotel, she nods at their joined hands and smiles. “Félicitations,” she says, and Gray manages to stammer out a quick, “Merci, bonne journée,” before they head out to the taxi.

The airport is crowded, but Natsu remembers to take an Ativan this time. Gray holds his hand tightly, and by the time they’re on the plane, he’s adorably sleepy.

“Can I sleep on you again?” he asks, tipping his head against Gray’s shoulder and giving him a goofy smile. When Gray wraps his arm around Natsu and kisses the top of his head, Natsu waves at one of the flight attendants and whispers, “C’est mon chum.”

He falls asleep before they’re over the ocean, curled up and snoring with an arm across Gray’s stomach. “He’s very sweet,” the stewardess says when she returns with the snack cart. “You’re lucky.”

“Yeah,” Gray says, staring down at the tattoos across the back of Natsu’s hands. “I am.”

“Gray!”

The busy crowd in the Arrivals area of the Montréal airport parts and Cana appears, darting between people until she can pull Gray into a hug. He sighs happily, wrapping an arm around her.

“Hey, you,” he says, kissing her cheek.

“Merry belated Christmas,” Cana says, pulling back and squeezing Gray’s arm. “How was the…” She trails off, realizing that Natsu is standing just behind Gray – and that they’re holding hands. “Oh?” she says, raising an eyebrow at Gray.

“You must be Cana,” Natsu says, letting go of Gray’s hand and reaching out to shake Cana’s instead. “I’m Natsu.”

“I saw lots of pictures of you,” Cana says, grinning at him. “So you’re the lucky one who got stuck with my brother for three weeks, huh?”

“I am.” Natsu shifts his backpack on his shoulder and looks back at Gray with a shy smile. “It was really nice.”

Before Cana can ask any embarrassing questions – especially in the middle of the airport – Gray grabs Natsu’s hand again and quickly says, “Yes, we’re dating, no, you can’t ask any questions about it.”

“I called it!” Lucy says, appearing behind Cana and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Cana wasn’t convinced because you’ve never—”

“I said no questions,” Gray grumbles as Natsu laughs.

“You’re adorable,” Cana reassures him, then nods toward the airport doors. “Shall we?”

Gray turns to Natsu, realizing that he’d never asked what Natsu’s plans were now that they were back home. “Do you—what’re you…”

“I was gonna call a cab to get home,” Natsu says, but he looks reluctant. Gray shakes his head.

“Don’t be silly,” he says, tugging on Natsu’s hand. “We can drive you.” A disappointed sensation spreads through him at the thought of being apart from Natsu after all their time together – he’s not quite ready to say goodbye, even if it would only be temporary. “Actually,” he says, staring down at their hands, “Would you—do you wanna come over for a bit?”

Natsu brightens, smile spreading across his face and lighting up his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Gray’s cheek. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

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