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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years ago

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The Revived - Chapter 16:

This is chapter 16 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3504

Cw: implied loneliness, discussions of bad coping mechanisms, jokes about drugs, guilt

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The evening in the mansion was rather quiet and peaceful, all things considered. Michael had immediately handed the drawing to Wilbur, who reluctantly kept it close. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Tubbo or Ranboo to see it. Not so much because of his own appearance in it, but because he realized that the sight of his ghost counterpart would likely bring up some bad memories.

Another thing that was mostly quiet during the evening was the actual ghost counterpart, much to Wilbur’s dismay. It was simpler, to distract himself from it when Ranboo and Tubbo were talking to him during dinner, or when Michael wanted to show him something, but it bothered him nonetheless. Tubbo and Ranboo had let Wilbur stay in a medium-sized bed in an almost empty room, with a couple of boxes in the corner. Wilbur had promptly excused himself to it, once the silence in his mind, and the chaos from outside, became a little overwhelming.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur asked, once the door was closed safely behind him.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a quiet gasp. “Oh! Hello!” Ghostbur said, sounding excited to be addressed, but disheartened nonetheless.

“Did you have a good day?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath, a little relieved to hear the familiar voice again. “You didn’t say much, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, sorry!” Ghostbur said.

“There’s no need,” Wilbur said, gently. “You can talk if you want to, or remain quiet if you want.” He shrugged, because it shouldn’t matter to him after all.

“Right, right…” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure if it was understanding or defeat.

Wilbur strolled towards the bed, and sat down, at the tempting mattress. His limbs grew heavier at the feeling. He hummed, thinking of what to say. “Did you know Michael drew you?”

“Huh?” Ghostbur asked, a bit of interest creeping into his tone.

“He did! He made a little crayon drawing of you and Friend.” He laughed slightly at the sentence, “And me.”

“He did?” Ghostbur said, familiar excitement slipping into the words, “What does it look like?”

Wilbur went on to explain as many details of the drawings he could reasonably give, despite the minimalist art style. The ghost listened intently. It was strange, the peace Wilbur suddenly felt, as the ghost sounded gradually happier, and he was sitting there alone as the night grew darker outside. Eventually, the inevitability of sleep snuck up on Wilbur. It felt strange, unfair even, to leave Ghostbur hanging like that. Not that Wilbur concerned himself with it of course, but it was a bit sad to think about the silence Ghostbur would experience, as soon as Wilbur drifted off to sleep.

But it happened nonetheless, and the darkness surrounded him, carrying him to rest in a matter of minutes, all the events of the past day slipping away calmly. They wouldn’t bother him until he turned to the waking world again.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun barely visible, but still visible enough to fill the room with a faint light. He stretched in the bed, before lying there for a few moments. His mind wandered, mostly refreshing his mind of yesterday and if there was anything he was supposed to do again. He remembered Ghostbur’s gloominess from the day before with an awkward feeling in his chest. He mumbled, “Good morning.”

A few moments passed with no response. Wilbur slightly frowned, “Ghostbur?”

“Oh! You were talking to me!” Ghostbur’s tiredness showed through his voice. It wasn't tiredness from a lack of sleep that made your voice gently crack on itself, but rather an exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed with rest. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur sat up from the bed, swinging his legs over so he was sitting normally. “I don’t remember being able to sleep that well in limbo, can you?”

He hoped it was different for the ghost. That maybe he could also have a copy of Friend there for him instead of only having a faint grip of reality through Wilbur. “Nope. What did you do for fun here?” He heard a sigh from Ghostbur.

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I mean, it wasn’t really the best place in the universe.” He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “Sometimes I walked down the tunnel. I would go ‘til my legs were tired. Then I tried to go for longer.” The words slipped out effortlessly, yet his voice became quieter the further he got into it, “I timed myself in my head, the quickest I could collapse was… two minutes? There were some seconds added on, but I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” His voice wasn’t enthusiastic- something Wilbur was grateful for.

Wilbur shook his head, “No no no, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. You shouldn't follow in my footsteps.”

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll run the way you didn’t go! Wait- why shouldn’t I run where you did?”

Wilbur sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I just meant you shouldn’t do what I did. I’m just…” Wilbur wanted to say he wasn’t a good role model because while it certainly was the honest truth, he didn’t care for the truth all that much. Information gives you the upper hand. “It was just a dumb decision and I don’t want to waste your time.”

Ghostbur’s voice was clearly dismayed, “There’s nothing much else to do. I mean- sometimes I can imagine stuff in my head! Like when I would play with Michael!” His excitement picked up at the end, but it wasn’t at the same level it used to be.

Wilbur tried smiling, “Yeah. That’s good. You should continue doing that.”

“I try to, but then it makes me sad. The feeling doesn’t go away anymore.”

Wilbur would’ve stood up from the bed and walked downstairs, but he didn’t want to end the conversation. “Doesn’t go away anymore?”

Ghostbur sighed, “Yeah. When I was alive, I would talk to people. Then- I think something bad would happen. At least that’s what other people said. After it was over, I would be talking with friends again! It was nice because I felt better a lot sooner than other people would.” Ghostbur paused for a moment. “I’ve heard that people get sad for multiple days, and I’m glad that never really happened to me. I wish it didn’t happen in general though. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah… being sad isn’t that fun.” Wilbur felt oddly empty at the words, the simplification of them making him remember the past. The days he went without sleep, trying to figure out how to win the election. The look of concern he got when Tommy told him that he should rest. Yet, he supposed those days weren’t exactly sad. They weren’t cheery, but they weren’t sad either. They held an odd sort of void to him, blending together before he even knew they started.

He’d known about it, partially. About how Ghostbur was shaped by the good and didn’t remember any of the bad things Wilbur had experienced, nor the bad memories he had on his own. Yet it was quite another to hear him say it. To hear him speak of it as if it was something natural. Feeling better faster than others, because the memories slipped away. Wilbur hadn’t realized that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Perhaps forgetting was more merciful.

Wilbur stood up from the bed, “I’m gonna go eat some breakfast.”

Ghostbur seemed excited once more as he clapped. “I love breakfast so much! It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Wilbur nodded as he let out a sound of amusement, “Good choice.”

He walked to the door of the room, opening it slowly, afraid of disturbing any peace inside the house. He peeked his head out and looked both ways, yet he couldn’t see anyone awake. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. He carefully made his way downstairs.

When Wilbur entered the barely set-up dining room, it was as if the entire place hadn’t quite woken up yet. Tubbo was languidly standing on one side of the room, half doing the dishes, and half making breakfast. On the floor on the other side, by an open box of whatever furniture or household items it contained, Ranboo was sitting up against the wall, flipping through a book. Michael was sitting right next to him, once again leaning over a piece of paper, happily doodling on it with crayons.

He walked to where Tubbo was, making his footsteps loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. Tubbo turned around, a welcoming smile on his face, “Good morning.”

Ghostbur cheerily replied, “Good morning!”

Wilbur stood next to the boy, looking over his shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just cutting up some apples right now. Makin’ pancakes. American ones specifically, because Ranboo says English ones are just sad crepes.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He was surprised the centrist even had an opinion on food. He seemed to stay neutral on so many other regards, yet pancakes were where he drew the line, “What a weird guy. What should I start doing?”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before speaking, “You’re a guest, you aren’t going to be the one cooking.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as his tone returned gentle, “Like old times.”. He spent so many days making breakfast in L’Manberg that he hadn’t even thought that things were different. Most of those early moments were spent with Tubbo before he went undercover as a spy. They both couldn’t stay asleep or didn’t sleep soon enough and decided to just start the day. They formed the routine of the person in the kitchen, decided what they were making, and the other helped until it was finished.

Tubbo looked away, his posture more rigid. Wilbur pursed his lips, he ruined another moment. Another peaceful moment was torn out of Tubbo’s head by the hands of a person he only invited to his home out of pity. He forced words to roll off his tongue, ones that didn’t belong but had to be placed there, “Just joking, man.”

Tubbo hesitantly laughed, “Yeah,” He returned his gaze to the fruit in front of him. Wilbur slightly narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but the confusion that persisted ever since his return. Everyone asserted that everything was different, but it all lingered in his head all the same. He could picture L’Manberg in its glory along with the uniforms that fit his soldiers perfectly. Yet no one else could.

“Michael, no!” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly exclaimed, Wilbur immediately turned his head. He was met by the sight of Ranboo, worriedly trying to pull a piece of paper out of Michael’s mouth. Only a small part of it was stuck in there as if Michael had merely tried to lick it and had decided to chew on it afterward. “Let go, it’s not food.” Ranboo tried. With a sharp pull, Ranboo landed on his back with the paper in hand, and Michael looked disappointed.

Tubbo’s squinted, looking confused and concerned at the same time. “Didn’t we take away the yellow crayons?”

Ranboo sighed deeply, “Orange.”

“Michael doesn’t eat orange though?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo sat up and looked at Tubbo with a completely deadpan expression. “You haven’t considered the implications of light orange.”

Tubbo gasped with realization. “Oh,” he rushed towards the packet of crayons, picking out the orange ones hurriedly. Ranboo discarded the paper, and Michael watched with crossed arms, looking a bit annoyed at the whole ordeal. Wilbur couldn’t contain some light laughter as the scene unfolded.

Not too long after, breakfast was served. It was a lot less strained than Wilbur had perhaps feared. They chatted about Michael’s strange habits of eating crayons along with similar childhood stories. Light-hearted chuckles passed around the table, with Michael joining in occasionally. Even when they all finished their plates, they continued to sit. They only started moving when Michael seemed fussy with his high chair. Tubbo quickly took him out, setting him on the floor again.

Tubbo picked up the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean these up. You and Michael can play for a bit.” Wilbur nodded and got up from his seat at the same time as Ranboo. Wilbur felt a pulling sensation on his pant leg, he goofily smiled when he looked down and realized it was Michael.

Ranboo took the plates from Tubbo’s hands. “You cooked breakfast, it’s only fair that I wash the dishes.”

Tubbo gently pulled on them back. “And you played with Michael all morning.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he set the plates onto the kitchen counter. “Oh my, it’s so hard to be a Dad. Wow, it’s so difficult to just watch a child when the child is still waking up.”

Tubbo groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

Ranboo nodded. “I make such good points that you can’t even try.” While he seemed disinterested in the beginning, a small smile appeared on his face.

Tubbo sighed, “Yeah. I really can’t compete with the world’s best dad and husband. If only I could wash the dishes to pay him back.”

“Awww, I think they’re flirting again,” Ghostbur cooed.

Ranboo let out a laugh, “Sure sure, maybe tomorrow.” He quickly leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Tubbo’s forehead.

Tubbo scoffed, “Bitch.” He playfully punched Ranboo’s shoulder before heading off in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur even forgot he was there, wrapped inside the domestic peace of their family. He blinked and looked down at Michael, the child still pulling gently on Wilbur’s pant leg.

“We’ll be in Michael’s room,” Tubbo called out to Ranboo. Ranboo nodded and continued putting the dishes in the sink. Tubbo started walking up the stairs and Michael quickly followed. Wilbur was walking a bit slower than before. Cautiously perhaps, though he wasn’t certain why. He smiled at Michael.

“Ooh, what are we going to play with Michael?” Ghostbur asked, though it was said in such a way, that he likely didn’t expect a response. Wilbur let out a relieved breath, at least a little comforted by the fact that Ghostbur had been talking this morning. It was going to be alright. Wilbur held on to the faint thread of a connection for now, each word from the ghost feeling like his one chance to take a breath.

As they returned to Michael’s barely furnished room, Wilbur almost felt as if he’d settled into a routine. It was silly really, having been there for just one night, but the walls seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that was a lot less suffocating than most familiar walls Wilbur could think of. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to settle into that feeling. It wasn’t there to stay, but he could pretend it was for the time being. Though the warmth almost seemed to burn him.

Soon enough, he found himself sitting on the floor, playing with little toys shaped like various animals and other mobs. While Wilbur found it difficult to figure out exactly what they were playing, he released a scream from a toy he’d dubbed the Skeleton King, as Michael played the chicken protagonist, defeating the king for the last time. Ghostbur chimed in every once in a while, despite him knowing even less of what was going on. Ghostbur suggested that the chicken hero had a friend who was a ghost cow, and Wilbur had decided to incorporate it into the story. Partially just to please Ghostbur, though the smile on Michael’s face was priceless.

He looked over in Tubbo’s direction. The boy was feeling the walls when Wilbur realized they had a bit of crayon on them. Not much, but enough to notice if you looked close enough. He gasped quietly at the thought in his mind. He reached in his pocket, feeling the sugar cane in his hand. A small grin slipped onto his face as he discreetly crushed it up, forming a small pile of sugar in his hand.

He shuffled slightly towards the edge of the table, gesturing for Michael to come along. The toddler tilted his head but walked over to where Wilbur was. Wilbur barely resisted laughing as he put the sugar on the table in a thin line. It wasn’t the neatest one in the world, but it would have to do.

Wilbur spoke loud enough for Tubbo to hear, “Alright, first you get it in a line. It can be a bit hard to do sometimes, but you can always use the edge of a sword or a piece of paper if you’re really desperate.” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened at the scene. He immediately ran over, picking Michael up as he quickly placed the child farther away from Wilbur. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t understand the situation as he attempted to run back to Wilbur.

Tubbo grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders before he could go far, turning the zombie piglin around to see him. His voice was tense, but still light enough. “Michael, how about you play tag with Dad for a bit, okay?”

“Tubbo doesn’t sound okay,” Ghostbur supplemented. Although Wilbur could’ve been able to read the room himself, the ghost��s voice was always a nice echo in his mind.

Michael huffed, looking between Tubbo and Wilbur. Tubbo nodded, showing him the direction of the door. He even slipped a smile into his voice, although the one on his face seemed tense, “You can go down the stairs by yourself.”

Michael squealed excitedly as he ran out of the room, his footsteps heard as he excitedly ran down. Tubbo closed the door behind him as his eyes met Wilbur’s. A foolish grin sat on Wilbur’s face, “Your reaction was priceless!” He cackled as he casually pushed around the sugar on the table.

Tubbo sharply exhaled, “Wilbur.” His voice was sharp and jagged in a way Wilbur didn’t quite expect.

“It’s just some sugar in a line. C’mon, man, you can taste it yourself.” He picked a bit of sugar from off the table and put it in his mouth, making slightly exaggerated expressions as he emphasized that it wasn’t anything bad.

Some of Tubbo’s edge disappeared, but at least half of it remained, “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt Michael it’s just-” He cut himself off with a sigh. He looked away from Wilbur’s gaze and back at the wall with some crayon on it. “L’Manberg.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “What about it?”

They waited a few moments in silence before Tubbo hesitantly spoke, “Why did you start L’Manberg?”

Wilbur stated his answer automatically, “To declare independence from Dream. You were there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook his head, “No no, what was the original purpose of L’Manberg?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Tommy’s disks flew into his mind, but L’Manberg was never really centered on them, only Tommy and Dream did. He drifted onto the idea of community, but that was found after the nation was formed. Power maybe? Power seemed like a nice answer, but it somehow didn’t feel right on his tongue. He snapped his fingers as a look of realization came across his face, “Oh! We were gonna set up a drug empir- oh.”

History really does repeat itself in an ironic way.

Tubbo pursed his lips as he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s gaze, “Yeah.”

“Tubbo…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off before he continued again, “I mean, L’Manberg is over and done with. It’s not too big of a problem.” Wilbur scooped up the remaining sugar on the table and dumped it into his mouth.

Ghostbur seemed flabbergasted, “What are you eating? It seems… good? Is that the right word?” Wilbur nodded but Ghostbur couldn’t see.

Wilbur moved his gloves against each other, removing the rest of the remaining substance from himself. “Sugar never really loses its touch.” He stood up from the table. He slightly frowned when he spotted the cloudy look in Tubbo’s eyes. “You… okay?”

Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze for a moment before looking towards the door. “I know it was yesterday when you read the destruction of L’Manberg, really, it’s a new day. But-” Tubbo shakily exhaled, “Just because you got to destroy all of your hard work, doesn’t mean you’ll get to destroy mine too.”

Wilbur sympathetically looked at the boy as he walked closer. Tubbo tensed up noticeably. Wilbur stopped a few steps in front of Tubbo. “Tubbo.” A gentle assertiveness filled his voice, “Tubbo look at me.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes for a moment but met Wilbur’s gaze. Tears laced the boy’s eyes, the shine of them giving it away.

Wilbur took a breath, “Dream is in prison. L’Manberg is… gone.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. “I don’t have anything against you. I- I care about you being happy. I wouldn’t do anything to purposely ruin it.” Wilbur opened his arms for a hug.

Tubbo stepped forward as Wilbur’s chest lept and a small grin went across his face, but Tubbo side-stepped at the last moment, opening the door just a bit behind Wilbur. Before the door closed, Tubbo mentioned a whisper into the air, “It’s okay.” The words seemed to waver slightly as if they were meant to comfort himself and not Wilbur. The door clicked and he was alone once more.

#c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #c!ghostbur #ghostbur #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #wilbur angst #wilbur soot angst #dream smp #dsmp #ghostbur angst #tubbo angst #c!michael #michael_beloved #dream smp fic

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noonachronicles · 5 years ago

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The End of the F**king World - Prologue

Byun Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Language. Violent imagery if you squint.

Genre: Apocalyptic/Alien Invasion AU. Slow Burn (ish?). One pining pup and one idiot in denial to eventual lovers.

A/N: Here goes nothing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The atmosphere that morning when you stepped out of your apartment was strange. You could feel it immediately, before you’d even pulled the hood of your jacket over your head to avoid getting the light drizzle of rain on your hair and outfit. It wasn’t a bad feeling but it wasn’t good either, mostly it left you uneasy. As you made your way down the street towards the subway you tried not to think too much about it. It was probably just the gray overcast clouds and the rain. It wasn’t like an off vibe was uncommon for a rainy day.

You’d already made it a couple of blocks when you finally saw your train buddy, Taemin. He was leaning against a light pole rubbing his hands over his thick jacket to warm himself as he waited for you. After casual greeting the two of you made quick work of the next couple of blocks. As a distraction from the freezing cold drizzle you listened to him tell you all about how his weekend went. Finally reaching the subway entrance you headed down to the train platform. It took a few minutes of waiting for you to realize that there were only two other people standing down there with you. You thought to mention it.

“Something feels weird today.” Taemin said before you had the chance, eyeing the empty platform. “Or is it just me?”

“You’re weird everyday.” you joked, “But you’re right. Something’s definitely off today. Probably just the weather?”

“No.” he sighed, too distracted by thoughts to even appreciate your dig. “It’s something else.”

“Is it a holiday? There’s like no one here. Do I even need to be going to work today?” you asked, seriously curious about whether or not you’d even had to get out of your warm bed this morning.

“No birds.” he said under his breath.

“What?”

“On the street, there were no birds. Did you notice?” he asked as the train came to its screeching, metallic halt.

You hadn’t noticed, but by the time you’d settled in the car Taemin had moved on. He pointed out an ad poster for the musical running at the theatre in midtown. Apparently his friend Jongin was a performer in the show and he was going to see it in the coming weeks. He asked if you wanted to accompany him and you told him you’d have to get back to him on it. By the time you’d reached your stop at midtown the conversation had moved on to something else entirely, as it often did. When you reached the top of the stairs you found it was raining harder than before so your goodbyes were brief, both of you promising to see the other for the same trip tomorrow. Then he headed towards downtown and you headed up.

There weren’t any birds, you realized on your walk. There were none of the usual noises of the city actually. No birds or other animals. Barely any traffic, which was incredibly strange even for how early in the day it was. In fact, the streets were usually packed with cars whose drivers were trying to inch their way to work. And the trains should have been full of people attempting to do the same. The thought just made you uneasy all over again so you dropped it from your mind and just assumed the sound of the rain could have distracted anyone enough that they wouldn’t even notice the silence. Mostly because you didn’t want to believe you were that unobservant. Honestly, if Taemin hadn’t put the thought in your head in the first place you would have never realized it yourself.

It was just before six in the morning when you reached work. The doors were still locked when you’d arrived since the store didn’t open for another hour. You tapped incessantly on the glass as your exhausted best friend made her way over to let you in.

“Morning.” Seulgi muttered as she pulled the door open, she looked as tired as you felt.

“Good morning, beautiful.” You smiled as you pulled off your soaked coat and unraveled your scarf from your neck.

She groaned at your subtle sarcasm, “Coffee hasn’t set in yet. So kindly table any witty commentary.”

“Yes, darling.” You laughed and your eyes brightened as you found the coffee she’d brought for you.

“How was your date last night?” She asked, following you into the back where you’d gone to put your things away.

You shrugged as you locked your wooden locker, “I don’t know. We’ve been together five years now, at this point they’re all the same. Marco not coming in today?”

“No, he said his wife didn’t want him coming in today, whatever that meant. It’s just us all day.” then she waved off your attempt to distract her, “Siwon didn’t ask you anything...specific?”

“Was he supposed to?” you laughed before sipping your coffee. Seulgi just shrugged innocently, which you knew meant something, “What do you know?”

“You know me, I rarely knowing anything, especially what the fuck I’m talking about.” She shrugged again and hurried back out onto the main floor.

“Seulgi!” you shouted after her, “What do you know? You have to tell me! No secrets, it’s in the best friend's handbook!”

She bit her lip as she contemplated her options, of which she had none. She had to tell you. You watched her move over to the folder with the newest paid receipts. After rifling through for a minute she pulled one out and held it against her chest, “Tell nobody that I showed you this. Especially Siwon.”

You held out your hand, palm up, and she slapped the paper down onto it. After flipping the paper over you read over the order form and your eyes went wide and filled with tears. It was a receipt for an incredibly pricey diamond ring that just happened to be your size. On the signature line, in your boyfriend’s curve and swirl was his signature. “Oh my god.”

“I know!” she said, grabbing your shoulders excitedly, “You’re totally getting engaged!”

Armenia was an upscale jewelry store, slated to be the next Harry Winstons. Seulgi had gotten a job there while the two of you were still in school and had helped you get a position afterwards. Though a career in the diamond trade had never been your dream, the money you made was far and beyond what other people you’d known in school were making. It got you invited to extravagant events, introduced you to the rich and famous, and was the perfect chance to spend everyday with your best friend playing with jewelry. It was similar to the way you played as a child except where all of your old jewelry was fake back then, there wasn’t a single ounce of plastic on the entire floor. For aesthetic purposes it was actually a strict company rule, even cleaning products had to be in glass or metal containers.

After the thrill of your morning realization, it had been an uncharacteristically quiet day. Which you blamed once more on the rain. You weren’t complaining. Not entirely. It was just a little boring as the day would often drag when you had nothing to do. Between the two of you every square inch of glass casing had been wiped spotless, and every displayed piece of jewelry was cleaned to perfection. Finally, a little after noon, the door opened. You’d been slumped over one of the counters doodling on the back of a piece of receipt paper, but quickly perked up at the sound. Though your customer service smile dropped from your face when you caught sight of your guests.

“Oh, it’s just you two.” you said leaning back over the counter and went back to your doodles.

The Beagle Brothers. You weren’t sure why people called them the beagle brothers when you’d first heard the nickname. They weren’t even brothers. However they could have been conjoined the way they were always glued together, which is where you assumed the nickname came from. Chanyeol, tall and wiry, was one of the sweetest men you’d ever met in your life. He was incredibly funny, outrageously smart and insanely talented at anything he put the slightest effort into. He was Seulgi’s roommate and though she hadn’t confirmed with you yet, you were pretty sure they were hooking up. Though the way he spent time with his counterpart it could have been safe to assume they were the ones hooking up too.

Baekhyun was Chanyeol’s tag along best friend. Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair, he was more than that. Baekhyun was average in build and height. Though next to Chanyeol he always ended up looking like his little brother. He was cute, you guessed, like a puppy. It was possible that he had actual beagle DNA coursing through his veins with his constant need for attention and endless energy. He’d always been sweet and kind to you, though you’d watched him around other women and knew he could also be a horrible tease when he wanted to be.

He was a good friend to you, both of them were. They both worked about a block away at a prominent electronics company. As he did every afternoon Chanyeol had brought Seulgi her refresher coffee and lunch, which they took into the backroom. With the feel of lurking eyes on you, you looked up unsurprised to see two big, brown eyes staring back at you. Accompanied by an absurdly charming smile.

“Hey, Baek.”

Somehow his smile grew even larger at the greeting and he placed an iced coffee on the counter in front of you. “Hi.”

“You know just because he brings her coffee doesn’t mean you’re required to bring me anything.” you said even as you took your first sip. “Especially since she’s probably repaying him…”

“I do it because I want to.” he said and brought his other hand from behind his back to place a brown bag in front of you as well. You tried not to but you smiled as you opened the bag to the sandwich he’d brought too. “How has your day been?”

It always surprised you, how genuinely he asked you about your day. “Slow, long… a little weird honestly.”

“Totally agreed. It’s been weird all morning. The vibe is off.” he sighed, “I can’t figure it out.”

“No birds.” you said offhandedly, thinking about Taemin before taking a bite of your sandwich.

He gave a small thoughtful hum. “Or all that stuff on the news is freaking people out.”

“What stuff on the news?” you asked.

“We’ve been watching it at work all day.” he shrugged, “I’m sure Yeol is in there making Seulgi watch clips on youtube, he won’t shut up about it. He has all these theories.”

“What stuff, Baek? What happened?” You were half annoyed by his vagueness. Of course they’d been watching it all day, they had a hundred televisions set up over there, you had none. You weren’t even supposed to be on your phones at work.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed around for a minute before a female newcaster’s voice came through and he handed you the device.

“Major and sudden changes in atmospheric levels over twelve major cities around the world have left scientists scrambling for the last eighteen hours or so. It’s even said that air force units from the United States, Russia, Egypt, and Korea have been in heavy communication over the last few hours as more and more strange pictures are being uploaded to social media from those twelve cities.”

On the screen they were showing a montage of videos from snapchat and instagram, photographs from users on facebook and twitter. One was a group of what looked like high schoolers speaking Japanese, it was captioned as being at the Tokyo Skytree. The camera panned over the ground below. For a moment it just looked like it was overcast there as well, nothing strange, but as it moved back, showing more it was clear the shadow was only covering part of the city. It seemed like maybe there was something large in the sky blocking the sun from the ground. Whatever it was, it had to have been massive in size. As the camera moved up to the sky you waited expectantly to see what was there, but there was nothing. It was clear. Not even a single cloud was visible.

“What the hell is that?” you whispered as it flashed to pictures from Paris, New York, Moscow, Seoul, and Cairo where the same thing seemed to be happening. Long, narrow shadows all leaving the same shape covering miles worth of city in darkness.

“They don’t know. All morning they were talking about it like it was some global warming effect, but as more of these videos and stuff kept coming in they’ve been talking about it like it’s an invasion.”

“What like aliens? Shut up, that’s insane.” you kept your eyes on his phone, shaking your head as another picture flashed, “Shit, that’s us, Baek...that’s our city.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I think that’s why the city is so dead compared to normal. People are in their buildings, people are at work. But anyone who doesn’t have to be in the city for some specific reason is avoiding it.” he said as he moved over to the window.

“Marco’s wife didn’t want him to come in today.”

He hummed as if in agreement, “A ton of people called out at our work too. It’s crazy.”

Leaving his phone on the counter you moved around and stood beside him at the window as you looked out. He was right. Normally you would look outside of the shop and see a swarm of bodies pushing each other around all trying to get somewhere. There were more people than you saw that morning, but not a lot. There were still people coming in and out of buildings, smoking cigarettes on the sidewalk, going for lunch at the bistro across the street.

However it was missing the horns honking from taxis frustrated about being stuck in traffic. The loud chatter of groups of friends just shopping around. There were no family’s snapping pictures for vacation photo albums. Looking to the sky you could see the rain clouds had dispersed and the sun was shining above but the ground still looked dark like it was covered by overcast. If you hadn’t just clearly seen the sun in the sky you might have thought it was near dusk.

As the two of you stood there you could hear a humming start in your ear. It was the kind of subtle buzz that people say means someone is thinking about you so of course you figured it was just your ears at first. As it grew louder, uncomfortably so, you looked over at Baekhyun. He was rubbing his own ears in discomfort. The sound became worse, almost piercing. You turned around to see Chanyeol and Seulgi come out of the back covering their ears.

“What’s happening?” Chanyeol shouted over the noise.

Shaking your head unknowingly, you turned to look back outside when a low rumble shook the ground beneath you. It felt like there had been a huge explosion and the blast moved through the city like a wave. When it reached you you’d been blown backwards to the floor. The glass in all of the jewelry cases trembled and started to shatter around you. You could hear Seulgi screaming and you watched as Baekhyun threw himself over you. The glass windows of the shop were shaking but they were made of much thicker, tempered glass, and held through it. It took several minutes for everything to settle. Baekhyun stood up and helped you to your feet.

Chanyeol walked over to the window and looked out. “Oh... fuck me.”

The rest of you followed suit and went to look outside. Hoards of people were sprinting out of their office buildings, broken glass from skyscraper windows rained down on the street below, and the worst part was what was in the sky. Where there had been nothing just minutes ago was now what you’d could only describe as a spaceship. It was absolutely massive and hovering just over the city. You were honestly surprised it wasn’t hitting any of the taller buildings, it was so low to the earth. Baekhyun ran over to the counter and grabbed his phone and walked it back over to the three of you.

“- over every city that has been under discussion today, have revealed themselves it seems. It remains unclear whether or not these ships are here with any sort of malicious intent. Military specialists have been trying to contact the ships but have received no return communication. We ask that viewers remain patient and cautious as we await further information and instruction from - Oh god, oh what are those?”

Looking over at the screen on his phone you could see where the news camera was zooming in on objects falling from the ship over one of the cities. Creatures, long creatures with gangly, scaly arms and legs. They had bulbous heads, four eyes, and teeth long and sharp that matched the claws on their hands and feet. Quickly you looked outside, whatever they were, they were falling out of the ship over your city as well. After several minutes of staring in shock you could hear the deafening sound of military aircraft speeding overhead and watched as they launched missiles towards the ship and shot bullets at the falling creatures.

“What do we do?” Seulgi asked in a clear panic, “Do we run?”

“Fuck that!” You screeched, “I’m not going out there with those things!”

“Y/n is right.” Baekhyun agreed, “We don’t know what we're dealing with, if we start running where would we even run to? Just-oh shit.”

All of you turned to look at what caught his attention. One of the fallen creatures had rounded the corner down the block and was attacking any and every human in its path. You let out a terrified cry as you watched the creature tear the head straight off a man like he was opening a bottle of soda. As fast as you could you ran towards the door and opened the panel with the emergency security switch. In an instant thick steel bars were dropping down in front of the windows. You could still see out to the street where three more creatures had gathered. Two of them had made their way to the front of the store and were clawing at the glass clicking and hissing as they tried to get in.

“Is there somewhere we can barricade ourselves?” Chanyeol asked, grabbing you by the sleeve, dragging your shocked and frozen form back and away from the window.

“T-the safe room.” Seulgi stuttered. “We can lock it from the inside. There’s screens for the security cameras so we can see what’s happening out here.”

Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun by the shoulders, “What do we need? We don’t know how long we’ll be inside there. Quick! What would you put in your bunker?”

“Seriously?” you asked returning yourself to the conversation, “Are you talking about video games right now.”

“Uhh.” Baekhyun shook his head, “No, he’s right...this is good. Water, weapons, lights. Like flashlights, fire, whatever works. Something to connect us to the outside world so we know when it’s safe, the cameras should work for that.”

“We’re not going to have all of that!” you yelled, frustrated and terrified as several other creatures had joined the ones trying to get inside and the glass started to crack under the pressure.

“Water jugs by the back door. They use them for the machine in the breakroom.” Seulgi said and looked over at you, “Come on, think, you can do this.”

“Ohh, god....Marco keeps a gun in the office...and flashlights! There are flashlights in the desk drawer. Gina! Gina keeps food in her locker.” You said, your brain finally starting to process things again.

“Alright go! GO!” Chanyeol shouted and you all made your way to the back.

You took the office where you got the gun, flashlights and batteries. You even found an old battery operated radio on the back of the shelf before you went for the safe. Chanyeol and Baekhyun had carried the water jugs and Seulgi had raided every cabinet for food and other things you might need. She had just made her way into the safe room when you heard the shattering of the windows in the showroom. Seulgi wrapped her arms around you and both of you sat together on the ground as Chanyeol secured the door. When he turned around he looked over at Baekhyun.

“Does your phone have service?

Looking down at the screen he shook his head no. “Door’s probably too thick.”

“What do we do now?” you whispered as Seulgi trembled in your arms.

Chanyeol sat down and sighed, “I...have no fucking idea. I think all we can do now is wait.”

#byun baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenario #exo scenario #kpop scenario #TEOTFW

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btschooseafic · 4 years ago

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Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva struggles to keep up with all of her new responsibilities as a manager.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 9: New Responsibilities

Responsibilities- Thane, Anderson .Paak, BJ the Chicago Kid

“I ain't stressin' bout the future, take it day to day

It's a marathon baby I'm just learnin' the pace”

Aviva stared around at the graffiti on the walls of the private space she had rented for their first dance practice. It wasn’t much, but…

“Siljangnim?” Hoseok called out.

“Hobi!” She called back. “Stop calling me that!”

“But, you are our manager,” he said simply.

She blinked.

“Ah. Right.” She grimaced. He laughed.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I just… you could at least use ‘maenijeo’...” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or should I call you Jung Hoseok-ssi all the time?”

He rolled his eyes at her formal address.

“Now you’re just making it weird... Have you heard anything from Jungkookie or Jiminie? I texted them, but they haven’t responded.”

She chewed her lip. “They’re not responding to me. Jungkook-ah always showed up to practice on time when I was with him in LA, but I haven’t worked with Jimin-ah that closely yet.” She looked at Taehyung. “What’s his work ethic like?”

Taehyung hummed. “Jiminie works very hard… but he also has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi thought.

Jin clicked his tongue. “Kids these days.”

Everyone laughed, although Aviva’s laugh was a little restrained.

“We’re almost out of time for the practice space,” she said worriedly. “Should I book another slot…?”

“Do we have the budget for that?” Yoongi asked bluntly. Aviva sighed.

“I guess we should start the practice without them.” She turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon-ah, you said you had some music you wanted to share with everyone?”

“Yeah.” He popped a CD into the player on the floor.

Taehyung bobbed along to the music. Jin made an uncertain face. Yoongi started arguing about the merits of local artists over international ones.

“Look, we can listen to both,” Aviva said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, but the order we listen to them is important,” Yoongi insisted. Aviva massaged her furrowed brow.

“Listen, Yoongi-oppa—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jungkook said, looking exhausted as he and Jimin walked into the room. They looked more than exhausted, they looked about ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Aviva asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“We weren’t trying to be late…” Jimin said.

“That’s all okay!” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Come in, my friends!”

“You could’ve let us know that you were going to be late,” Hoseok commented.

“We were too freaked out to think about that,” Jungkook said.

“Freaked out about what?” Aviva pressed.

“You should have called to be considerate,” Jin agreed with Hoseok. “There were a lot of people waiting on the two of you.”

“Hey, it’s only one tardy! Let’s just let this one slide!” Taehyung suggested, smiling brightly. Aviva nodded thoughtfully.

“Only one tardy?” Yoongi said, giving them a cold look. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play around. Whether you meant to be late or not, you have obligations to the group.”

“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms too. “You don’t succeed in this industry with just hard work alone.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed. I thought you both were more dedicated to this group. Do you really want to be here?”

“Hyung… how can you��” Jimin was now unmistakably teary eyed. “How can you doubt something like that?” Jungkook patted him on the back, leading him to sit down. Jimin took deep breaths. Aviva frowned, noting the bloody stain on the knee of Jimin’s pants.

“Jimin-ah…” She kneeled down in front of him. “Tell me what happened—how did you hurt your knee?” A few of the older boys made noises of surprise behind her.

“I waited so long for our first practice,” Jimin said. “I was so excited I ran here. But I was dumb and fell down a flight of stairs…”

“I had to convince Jimin-hyung to go to the hospital, that’s why I didn’t think to call,” Jungkook explained.

“Hey, I’ve been excited too,” Aviva told him. “It’s not your fault you fell over—Namjoon-ah does stuff like that all the time.”

“Yah!” Namjoon cleared his throat, his face pink. Jimin laughed a bit, his tears interrupted.

“But I’m glad Jungkookie convinced you to go to the hospital,” Aviva continued speaking to Jimin, ignoring Namjoon. “What did they say?”

“They said it’s fine. Just disinfected it, and gave me a Band-Aid, but it’s coming off already…” Jimin frowned at his knee.

“Oh, I’ve got Band-Aids!” Aviva said, popping up and running over to her bag.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re just as clumsy as I am, Avi-yah.”

“I’m not,” she disagreed, handing Jimin the Band-Aid. “Does it hurt, Jimin-ah? Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “The Band-Aid’s enough. Thanks for worrying about me, manager-nim.” He took her hands in his. “But you keep up your health too, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

Namjoon frowned slightly as he watched them.

A couple of days passed, and Aviva was still worried about the group dynamic. They kept arguing about small things, like who should change the water cooler. Such arguments were bound to happen, Aviva figured, but the boys seemed to be disproportionately angry in relation to the issue.

Jin and Jimin were refusing to speak to each other, sending Aviva back and forth with messages.

Taehyung interrupted, pointing out that their time slot was over.

Aviva glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, I’m running late! I need to go, please get home safely, all of you.” She ran out of the room.

That night, the boys accidentally ran into each other in the practice room. The older boys were impressed when they realized the younger boys had been staying late to practice, sleeping over to be able to make the best use of the time.

“Well, that, and we couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Taehyung finished.

Jimin nodded, grimacing.

“You hyungs are still sleeping in the supply closet at the offices?” He wondered.

The rap line trio nodded grimly.

“Usually Avi-yah would’ve realized by now,” Hoseok thought. “Especially when her new office isn’t too far away from the supply closet. Maybe she really is overworked…”

“Is that why Namjoon-hyung lied to her about having found a place to stay?” Taehyung wondered, blinking at him. Namjoon flushed slightly.

“It wasn’t, a lie, exactly.” He ran his hand over his face. “The renovation announcement was so last minute, and she’s got so much on her plate already, I didn’t want her to have to worry about this, so I said I’d take care of it, but I haven’t been able to find a place big enough for all of us, and when she asked, I couldn’t exactly tell her that…” He felt guilt heavy on his chest when he remember how relieved she’d looked when he told her it was all taken care of.

“Look, what’s this?” Taehyung picked something up off the ground.

“It’s Avi-yah’s notebook.” Namjoon took it from him, smiling as he recognized it as one of the many he’d bought for her over the years. He started flipping through it.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, hyung?” Jimin commented.

Namjoon’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She’s always writing in there,” Yoongi said, leaning over to get a look. “What does she write?”

“Um, everything.” Namjoon skimmed over cartoon doodles in the margins and hand drawn marketing graphs. “Our schedules, research on hip hop groups…” He smiled, pointing. “Look, she looked up both the international artists I suggested, and the underground local artists you suggested.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, shaking his head. “She does work hard, that one.”

“Right?” Jin agreed. “She’s only been here for a few years, but she’s already basically fluent in Korean.”

“Still, I bet she misses home sometimes,” Hoseok thought. “Did she seem happier when she was there, Jungkookie?”

“What?” Jungkook flushed. “Um, well, she seemed pretty happy, but she didn’t actually grow up in LA, so, I don’t think that’s… I think she was just happy to be able to speak English so much again, and to see Jenny-ssi.”

Hoseok grinned. “If you and Avi-yah’s little sister get married, maybe she’ll come live here too, and Avi-yah will be happier, and your older sister!”

Jungkook tilted his head. “I wouldn’t mind…” He waved his hand. “Not that I’m saying I’d want to marry Jenny-ssi—we’re not even really dating at this point, more like pen pals?” They all laughed. He huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got off track, we were talking about Aviva-noona.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be my older sister,” Taehyung said quietly.

“I wonder if this is really what she wanted—to manage a group of trainees like us?” Jimin said more loudly as Namjoon gave Taehyung a funny look.

Namjoon flipped through the pages, frowning at the color-coded blocks.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, did you know about this? Is that why you told her not to overwork herself?” He held up the schedule.

“Oh yeah.” Jimin grimaced. “I saw something like that the other day, when I was borrowing a piece of paper.”

“Speak to groups about getting members as featured artists and backup dancers, listen to lectures, hire instructors… and this is all after supervising our practice. How is she doing all of this in one day?” Namjoon shook his head. “When does she have time for sleep?”

“She needs to take better care of herself,” Yoongi thought aloud. Namjoon snorted. Yoongi frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you really the one to be saying that?”

Aviva rushed into the practice room, having gotten the keys from the janitor, after explaining she forgot an important notebook inside.

She felt around the wall for the light switch, but couldn’t find it. She let out a huff of frustration and used her cellphone light instead. She squinted her eyes at an oddly placed plant. Then she heard movement and squeaked, nearly falling over.

“Yah, careful!” A familiar voice called out. Aviva froze up as she felt the warmth of someone’s arms around her, holding her up. “The floor is hard.”

She shivered at his breath in her ear. “…Yoongi?”

“Wow, nice catch!” Another voice said.

“Taehyung-ah?” Aviva recognized his voice as well. She blinked as the lights flickered on. Jungkook and Jimin popped out from behind the suspicious plant Aviva had noted earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook wondered.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked concernedly. “Manager-nim, are you hurt?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” she said a little shakily. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin came over. Namjoon looked at Yoongi and Aviva and frowned. Hoseok looked back and forth between them and then smirked. “Thanks, Yoongi-oppa… you can let go of me now.”

“Yeah…” He let go slowly, frowning at Taehyung. “Why’d you scare her like that?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Hoseok agreed. Taehyung pouted, stepping closer to her.

“I was actually trying not to scare you—I thought it would be scary if I was too loud, so I was trying to be sneaky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah, I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Oh, so you don’t like horror movies?” Taehyung wondered, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry, not really.”

“You don’t have to apologize… I was just hoping we could watch one together.” He sighed, but then quickly recovered his usual charming smile. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Action,” Hoseok said.

“Mystery,” Yoongi said.

“Fantasy,” Namjoon said. They looked at her.

“I like all of those,” she said.

Taehyung nodded. “We’ll watch one of those instead, okay?”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that sounds good.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, what are all of you doing here at this time of night anyway?” They looked around at each other nervously. “Huh…” She rested her hand on her hip. “It’s nice that you guys appear to be getting along again, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Um… I left something here,” Hoseok said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Aviva said, doubtful. “What did you forget?” Hoseok rubbed his neck. Aviva frowned at the pain patch on his neck, spotting another one on his arm. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” She looked around the room, spotting a few sleeping bags in the corner. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here?”

“…I mean, it’s the first night for here for some of us,” Hoseok said, cheerfully raising his hand. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Though, we were… kinda… sleeping in the storage room before that…”

“…Fuck,” Aviva said.

“Yah!” Jin covered Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook shook him off, grumbling.

Taehyung grinned. “Manager-noona, I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, I taught her,” Namjoon said, smiling proudly.

“This is all my fault,” Aviva said, rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry, Joonie, I shouldn’t have left this all on you. I knew finding a big enough place nearby would be difficult, so I should’ve checked in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi wondered.

“I’ve been distracted,” she admitted. “But that’s no excuse.” She bowed. “I apologize, it was my responsibility to find you a place to live, and I didn’t.”

“Aw, manager-nim, no need to be so formal,” Jin said, patting her on the back.

She straightened up.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait!” Namjoon called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find you somewhere to stay—and someone to stay tonight right away!”

“But you’re busy already,” he protested.

“Gone already.” Yoongi grimaced. “She’s quick.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it to her,” Jungkook said, sighing.

Jimin smiled. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Right?” Taehyung held his hands over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“I found a temporary spot,” she said, later that night. “The commute isn’t bad, and you’ll have access to a backyard, and the living room and kitchen are a little bigger than the last place, but it’s still a one bedroom so you’ll still have to share.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind!” Taehyung said happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve all slept in the same room before. I’m just happy not to have to sleep on the hard floor!”

Aviva shook her head.

“About that, Tae… it isn’t fully furnished either. I got them to throw in two and a half couches—“

“Half a couch?” Jungkook wondered. Hoseok elbowed Jimin.

“That’s for you, little Jiminie.”

Jimin scowled at him.

“So some of you can sleep on those,” Aviva continued, ignoring them. “But I couldn’t find seven beds on such short notice.” Taehyung’s face fell. “I’ve got two sets of bunk beds.”

“Even just that is impressive in a couple of hours,” Namjoon thought.

Taehyung nodded slowly. “…A couch is still better than the floor,” he decided.

“Yeah, at least bring a sleeping bag next time, dummy,” Yoongi muttered.

“Ah, Yoongi-yah cares so much,” Jin said, slapping him on the back. Yoongi frowned at him. Aviva smiled slightly.

“Anyway, I’ll text you guys the address, so feel free to meet me there.”

“Where are you going, noona?” Jungkook wondered. “Don’t you have a lot of other things to do tonight?”

“I finished the meeting, so I’ll postpone the other things,” she said. “The temporary unit I found doesn’t have any food, so I thought I’d grab some groceries for you.”

“We can do it,” Jin said. “Don’t worry, just continue on with your normal schedule.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jin said. “I can make a dish out of anything, I’m not just a pretty face you know.” She laughed. He grinned at her.

“And I like grocery shopping,” Taehyung commented. “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Before you go.” Namjoon held her notebook out to her. “Don’t forget this again.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Joonie.” She waved and hurried off again.

“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok imitated in a high-pitched voice. “Hmmm… tell me again why you haven’t asked her out?”

Namjoon flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you mean, besides the fact we could both lose our jobs?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah, besides that. People do break the rules and get away with it, you know. If you decide the risk is worth it…”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it? I mean, we’ve both been working so hard for this debut, should I really throw it all down the drain just because Aviva-yah is so…?” He waved his hands inarticulately.

“Cute?” Taehyung suggested.

Namjoon frowned at him. “That she is!” Hoseok agreed cheerfully. “But Joonie’s acting pretty adorable right now also.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “Anyway, even if I’d be willing to risk it, there are other people involved, Hoseok-ah and Yoongi-hyung especially, I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work.” Hoseok nodded, thumping him on the back.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go to this new place and get some sleep.”

#bts #fanfiction #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #bts predebut #idolverse #manager!oc #bts world #ot7 #my fics #hey you what's your dream

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kayparker20 · 4 years ago

Text

Inner Turmoil - Chapter 6

I'm so sorry about the wait this time around guys. I threw myself for a loop with this plot and I've been struggling a lot to figure out what I want to happen next. I decided to focus on a minor issue while I brainstorm what happens next. It's a bit feelsy but it's not super dramatic. Also kind of realized it was almost too long so the next chapter will have a spicy start before the real plot happens.

Hope you enjoy this somewhat filler chapter!

Chapter 6 - Village Gossip

FFN | AO3

Ino sat at the front counter of her family flower shop, impatiently waiting for the jonin ninja in her store to get a move on. They would always come in, pretend to look around while gossiping, and never buy one thing. She hasn’t liked them since she heard them being hateful towards Kurenai-sensei, probably out of jealousy.

“Can you believe, of all the beautiful shinobi, he dates his former student?” The woman scoffed and brushed her fingertips over the petals of lilies in a bouquet. “I think I would have rather heard he was gay, before that.” Her long, charcoal hair was curled and flowing down her back in waves.

Another rolled her eyes. “Yeah, gay for Might Guy, even.” Fiery redhead, model body. “Of course, Hatake was too perfect to have no flaws, I just didn’t think it would be something so repulsive like fucking children.”

“Do you think she fucked her way into jonin level?” The darker haired woman speculated. She turned around and looked at some roses that had been to her left.

Ino had been idly doodling flowers on a piece of blank receipt paper before hearing the topic they had been discussing. Her hand stopped mid-petal at the last comment before she narrowed her eyes at the piece of paper.

“I mean, maybe. Must have been easy to become jonin when you’re the Hokage’s apprentice, and being taught by a legend.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. I hear she’s quite the bitch at the hospital.”

She felt her mother’s eyes on her as she squeezed the pen, staring daggers meant for the women at the counter. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she needed to stay cordial and polite because they were customers, despite how abrasive and tactless they were.

She flipped her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder before addressing the women with a sarcastic smile. “Excuse me, ladies, is there anything I can help you find?” Her tone dripped with deviance through her smile. Her whole body felt tense with her anger as she forced herself to appear relaxed and helpful.

Two can play this catty game.

The women turned in her direction, both sporting smirks on their expressions. They both stared at her as if she were boring before cocking their hips to the side and giving fake smiles in her direction.

“We’re just admiring, but thank you.” The redhead shot back in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure? I think a bouquet of yellow hyacinths, lavender, and iris would go nicely with your hair.” Ino offered slyly.

She stole a glance at her mother, expecting to see an expression of disapproval, and was surprised to see the faintest smile spreading across her lips.

The darker haired woman narrowed her eyes, clearly catching the message. “You have something to say, girl?”

Ino kept her demeanor as she shook her head. “Oh no, I was just offering. Purple and yellow complement well, you know?”

Before either woman could snapback, the elder brunette cut in politely. “Ladies, it’s time for our lunch, and we must close for the next hour, so please take your pick. We can check you out for your purchase. We’re glad to give you your flowers before we find our meal for the workday.”

Ino’s mother sounded elegant and was the epitome of professionalism as she gave a gratuitous grin towards the women.

Both women huffed in defeat.

“No, miss, thank you for your time.” The darker haired woman gave a strained smile before she walked out, the redhead following.

As soon as the door shut, Ino let out an annoyed sigh. “Thanks…” She huffed before crossing her arms across her chest.

Her mother just shook her head softly. “Your cleverness and restraint amaze me sometimes. It was rather amusing.”

“It’s exhausting, not amusing. I much would have preferred to hit them. That was far from tasteful gossip.” Ino scowled. “How could they accuse Sakura of using sex to get rank! As if she isn’t a jonin level medic! Or uh, I don’t know, the medical director of our hospital! The disrespect!”

Her mother sighed. “People are going to talk, and you have to admit it’s at least a little scandalous. Those women are just jealous, and will say anything to make themselves feel better.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Ino argued.

Sakura walked in then, smiling. “What doesn’t make something right?” She inquired curiously. “What gossip did you dig up now, Pig?”

Ino turned, her eyes wide to see Sakura. “Oh, uh, nothing!” She chuckled nervously. “Ready for lunch?”

Sakura looked at her surreptitiously. Clearly, something was up. “Spill it. Now.”

Ino crossed her arms, before giving her a defiant look. “And if I don’t?”

“Are you going to make me beat it out of you? Was it about me?” Sakura deadpanned. “You never refuse to tell me gossip unless it’s about me and it's negative.”

Ino hated how well she and Sakura knew each other in moments like this. They couldn’t hide anything from each other. She sighed before uncrossing her arms. “It doesn’t matter, I handled it anyway.” She said matter of factly.

Sakura stared at her friend before shrugging. “You’re telling me at lunch, come on. Off to get our dango and tea. Director or not, I still run on a schedule. And I got behind after being gone a couple of days.”

Ino lips spread into a teasing grin. “Behind because you were off saving my ass or behind because qualities like procrastination and tardiness are rubbing off on you?”

Sakura gave her an unimpressed look. “I was late one time. Definitely behind from saving your ass from our deranged classmate.”

They started walking towards their favorite cafe. It was nice outside even if it was a little cooler. Leaves lay around the ground, dry and crinkling under their footsteps. She could only wonder what Ino was all in a tiff about today, being as she saw the very same women she knew to leave the shop with all too knowing smirks. She was also slightly discomforted by them because when they saw her, their expressions suddenly turned downright venomous.

It wasn’t too uncommon for her to get those as the news of her and Kakashi spread, once rumors became truths. It made her wonder about Anko’s offhanded ‘sex god’ comment. Maybe they were a couple of those one-night stands? She frowned at the thought, not thinking Kakashi would have entertained such rude women.

“Aren’t those the women that you got upset at for talking at Kurenai some time ago?” She wondered to her friend aloud.

“Oh, yes.” She snapped back. “They’re worse than me for spreading everyone’s business and their bullshit two cents about it.”

Sakura couldn’t remember the last time she heard Ino sound unenthused about new gossip. Usually, it meant it was about someone she cared about, and that it thoroughly pissed her off. Even more so unusually, she would normally be more than ready to rant her pretty reddened lips off about said women being conceited and judgemental and downright horrible.

Yet today, her blonde friend was being clipped and avoiding discussing the topic. She decided to test it out again. “So what treachery were they discussing today?”

Ino hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Sakura the things people were saying about her and Kakashi. Her friend had been so happy. She seemed to glow this past month since she had started dating him. She didn’t need to be troubled by people thinking the exact opposite of a situation.

She smiled at her friend. “Oh, not much. I just hate how they loiter in the shop and force me to deal with their presence, yet never buy anything.”

Sakura just gave her friend a bored look and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“That’s her. Can you believe such a young girl is with a man like him?”

Sakura instantly frowned, refusing to look in the direction of the people they just passed. She tried to remind herself what people said didn’t matter.

“I don’t think I want Mika to have a male sensei. Do they all prey on their students?”

Her expression turned into a downright glare. How dare someone to accuse him of such horrible things? Why did they blame him? Why was it so hard to just believe they loved each other? Hearing the things people said on the street made her miss the way their friends easily accepted them.

“Must be easy to make jounin when you’re the Hokage’s bitch, and fucking one of the commanders.”

Ino watched as all the same bullshit those women had said in her little shop floated around them. Maybe she wasn’t really able to protect Sakura after all, but she’d be damned if she was the one who brought that sort of mood on.

“Don’t listen to it. They're wrong.” Ino said sternly, flinging hard glares directly at anyone who dared say something within their earshot.

“It was me those women were gossiping about in your shop today, wasn’t it?”

Ino snorted. “I told them rather professionally exactly how I felt about their false ass opinions.”

Sakura sighed. “I think the ones I hate the most are him being a pedophile, or me using him to get rank.” Her face contorted into anger. “I’ve been a jounin since before I even realized I loved him, for fuck sake!” Sakura growled out.

“Does she pine after her whole team? First the traitor, now the sensei. Jinchuriki and socially inept next? Maybe she just whores around for them all.”

Now that one was just funny. She laughed as she and Ino entered their shop. “Alright, as if! Did you hear that one?”

Ino raised an eyebrow. “Do you think Sai knows how to fake an orgasm like he does a smile? That’d be rather disconcerting. Being cute only gets you so far.”

They sat down at their table and ordered their tea and dango. The homey atmosphere of this place always put Sakura at ease. The place had always been so down to earth, and the staff here were so nice and she had known most of them for at least quite some time now.

She remembers coming to this little cafe for the time with her team as a genin before Sasuke left. He claimed it was a treat for doing so well on a mission, before disappearing when it came time for the bill to be paid. She remembered feeling so angry back then, how dare their sensei pull some sheisty trick like that! But now it was just funny, thinking about times when their lives hadn’t changed so drastically.

“Watch out, Team Seven’s Mistress, coming through.”

Sakura wrinkled her nose. “Okay, now that sounds like a scandal for sure. I could never even dream of taking Naruto from Hinata, let alone sleeping with him. And don’t get me started on Sai.”

“Shouldn’t she be here soon?” Ino inquired.

As if on queue, the bell rang as another customer entered, and it was their black haired Hyuga friend.

“Hina, over here!” Sakura called.

Hinata meandered over their table and sat next to Sakura. “Hi, guys!” She spoke softly, happy to see her friends.

“Tell Sakura here to ignore these stupid rumors jealous nimrods keep spreading,” Ino said blandly. “Well, at least the boring ones.”

Hinata raised an eyebrow. “There are ones that aren’t boring?”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Apparently there’s one that I’m fucking my entire team.”

“Oh, now that’s just dirty! Who would do such a thing?”

“Which thing, fuck the whole team, or fuck Naruto?” Ino said in a teasing voice.

Their friend turned beet red. “I-I don’t either Sakura or myself would uh… Have relations with an entire team.”

Sakura slumped in her seat. “You’re right, but people think my sensei is a pedophile. Which hurts because he would never have thought of me, or any of young girls, in such a way.”

Ino and Hinata watched as Sakura looked so hurt. How do you tell your friend to ignore things she hears whispered as soon as she comes into a room, or simply a vicinity. No one had to deal with something like that. Then again, neither of them were dating men much older than them, or ones who had been their teacher. But why does that matter when they’re adults now? Sakura had been a jonin for two years now after she and Shikamaru had gotten promoted when the fourth war ended.

“They are just jealous that a younger, prettier, and more talented kunoichi took their eye-candy off the market.” Ino insisted. “Easier to keep their ego intact if they blame him for being gross, or you for using him.”

“I guess…” She sighed. “Look at me, worried about stupid gossip when my old teammate is hellbent on making me join him…” Sakura shivered at the thought. “Even now, there are three ANBU following me at all times.”

“Wait, even at Kakashi’s…?”

Sakura nodded.

“I bet they watch…” Ino smirked deviously.

“Ino!” Hinata squeaked.

Sakura just shook her head, more than used to Ino’s antics. She knew it would take her ‘innocent’ friend some time to get used to Ino’s crudeness, but she felt better being around both her close friends.

“Do you think people truly think that low of Kakashi? People think he would groom one of his students?” Sakura asked seriously.

Hinata shrugged. “You can’t expect people to necessarily think super well of someone who openly reads porn in public.”

“Hey, Icha-Icha is a wonderful series.” Ino piped in. “Even Sakura agrees with that.”

Sakura laughed at the comment. “It’s true, but I guess you have a point. No one sees that unless they’ve dared to read the beloved Ero-Sannin’s work. Lady Tsunade swears to burn every copy of those books, but she secretly has her first edition collection, signed by Jiraiya himself.”

“I guess society might accuse us of being molesters next, huh, Pig?”

Sakura frowned. “I sure hope not, considering I’m certain being a molester consists of much more than enjoying romance novels that might be slightly too pornographic at some points along with the good plot.”

Hinata giggled lightly. “I think anyone who had ever actually paid attention to you and Kakashi-sensei interacting would have realized you were the one going after him.” She smiled softly.

Sakura thought about that. She knew she never made intentional moves on Kakashi, but apparently everyone close to them knew they loved each other, or that there was at least something going on. She couldn’t help but feel touched at how accepting his friends were, even if Anko and Genma teased her relentlessly. Or made threesome jokes, which Kakashi bluntly shut down quickly. However, a large majority of people were the stark opposite.

She should have known that Ino’s ideals about them being shinobi bending morals a bit was closer to romanticism than what society thought in reality. She felt like she was just as much an adult as Kakashi and the rest, even in her 20s. She’s gone on deadly missions just like Kakashi, let alone with Kakashi. She’d been through a war. She’s damn near died, multiple times, and she had saved people’s lives and held the ones she couldn’t save.

Yet people dared to treat the situation like Kakashi was dating a child, instead of an equal? So what if he had trained her, it’s not like he ever made a move on her?

Hinata was right, she made the move on him.

“I knew what I wanted, even if I only got the courage to express it with a little encouragement from sake. At first.” Sakura crossed her arms. “But why do we have to justify our damn happiness?”

The waitress walked up to get Hinata’s order after that. “What can I get for you today, miss?”

“I’ll have green tea and a rice ball, please,” Hinata spoke softly with a pleasant smile.

“Sure thing!” She flashed a smile at them before striding away to take care of the order.

Ino sipped her drink before shrugging in response to the question. “I thought you already know people talk about anything we do, no matter what. Especially when they’re jealous, and you have plenty of things to envy.”

Sakura huffed before. “Yeah well, I didn’t get them without effort, and that especially includes Kakashi.”

The girls fell silent. Hinata and Ino could only say so much in attempts to make Sakura feel better. It’s not like you could ignore an issue when everywhere you went you were hearing whispers or receiving horrible glares sent in your direction.

The waitress brought Hinata’s order about and paused a moment. She looked like she wanted to say something, but seemed a bit nervous. She chewed her lip subtlety before looking at Sakura.

“Miss?”

Sakura raised her eyes to make eye contact with her and gave a polite smile. “Yes?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Kakashi now?

Sakura nodded, her smile fading slightly in fear of some directly aimed judgment. She came here often with Kakashi, he used to bring the whole team here.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m very happy for you guys. I’ve seen you guys together often, and sometimes I wondered if you were the one he bought the lattes for every so often. He’s come here for a long time, but he always seemed so…” She searched for the word for a moment. “Aloof. Always polite, but kept to himself.”

Sakura nodded softly. “He’s uh… He’s been through a lot, even more so than the average ninja.”

The girl gave a sad smile. “So I’ve heard. When he started bringing you and those boys here, he seemed to change. Like a spark in him ignited. Is it true that the blonde was his mentor’s son?”

Sakura’s smile turned a little less stiff as she nodded again. “The Fourth Hokage, yes.”

Hinata and Ino listened with small smiles, glad to see their friend getting some positivity towards her relationship from someone other than friends. Hinata’s face flushed slightly at the mention of Naruto as she thought of him distantly.

“I’m sorry about the things I’ve heard people say. Anyone who truly has been around you can see the chemistry you have, sometimes I wondered if you were secretly together. I have never seen him so relaxed around anyone besides you.” She smiled brightly. “He had friends of course, like those dashing men, Asuma and Genma. Or the….very lively Gai.”

Ino wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I’d consider Asuma-sensei dashing.” She muttered softly under her breath.

Sakura's eyes widened softly. “Thank you… It’s nice to hear someone say something nice about it.”

“Sakura, it’s almost the end of your lunch break isn’t it?” Hinata wondered aloud, catching the time on the clock. She gave a soft smile before

“Oh, look at that, it’s the rank climbing whore with her flower bitch of a friend.”

I guess that’s one way you could refer to Sakura and Ino, at least within the last month. She couldn’t imagine how upset Ino would be if she would only ever be remembered as her ‘flower bitch of a friend’. She would probably be remembered as Ino-Pig, and she hates that nickname.

She could attest to the fact that she hated being referred to as a ‘rank climbing whore”. Didn’t have to sleep with multiple men or do something dirty like have an afraid to fall under the description of whore? She had only just lost her virginity to Kakashi a month ago…

She sighed and reminded herself that these women wouldn’t care to hear technicalities and that it would probably only antagonize them to carry on with more horrible accusations and scornful comments.

The waitress instantly frowned at the woman. “I can ask them to-”

Sakura shook her head. “It’s whatever, don’t scare off your business. Thank you for your kindness.”

Ino instantly slid her gaze towards the nasty tone, sending daggers. “Are you even acutely aware that Sakura was made a jounin almost three years ago?” She spat. “Pretty sure she only got with Kakashi roughly a month ago, now carry on with your trivial lives.”

Sakura sighed and rolled her eyes, hoping the sting that suddenly arrived would go away with them. “Right, I need to go back to work. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” She stood from the table and turned for the door.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Are you gonna go run and tell mommy Hokage?”

Sakura’s eyes twitched as she started gathering chakra into her fists, ready to shut them up herself. How much disrespect could someone dare to have? Was this really out of pure jealousy?

She kept telling herself none of this was worth getting this upset over. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to cry from the humiliation or punch them through the wall of the restaurant. She had never felt so ridiculed before, and it was infuriating.

“I’ll bet my old student would be an easy target to get some action from when I was bored. Especially from emotional types like yourself. Just a few sweet words and you probably melted for him.” The other woman cackled.

Sakura bit her cheek before she left briskly, ignoring the shrieking she heard from Ino, or how Hinata tried to run after her. She felt stupid for letting those women get under her skin, but she couldn’t help it.

This is what people were saying? What else was there? Did she seem that naive, that her sensei could take advantage of her? She knew there would be talking about this, but she never expected those sorts of accusations. She expected disapproval and even some daunting glares.

She went straight for her office and buried herself in the paperwork she had to catch up. It was a decent distraction. Verifying shinobi physicals, signing them with her approval. Later they would need to be given to Tsunade. She signed paperwork regarding the children’s clinic she was opening with Ino, mainly financial documents for the grants involved in the program. More paperwork was needed to be signed for hospital grants for unfortunate patients.

Kakashi was walking to the cenotaph, feigning ignorance to all the looks she was currently receiving from the majority of the people he passed. Many whispers went about. Mostly about wretched of a man he was, accusations of pedophilia and grooming. Some against Sakura for whoring herself into rank, which didn’t make even a lick of sense if you asked him, considering she was made jounin after the fourth great war.

He sighed softly. There were much bigger issues now that these people couldn’t even begin to think about. If he ever thought that beginning a relationship with Sakura would have put her in danger, he wouldn’t have indulged in the idea no matter what, if it had meant she would have been safe.

Granted, it was starting to be believed by Tsunade that Sasuke was coming for her either way because he did Orochimaru’s bidding. And healing arms isn’t related to Sakura’s love life. Sasuke was bothered by the fact that Sakura was with somebody else, but was it that she moved on, or that she was with Kakashi in general? That was the question that was begging to be answered in his mind at the moment. No matter what, she would be safe. She might not have any special jutsu, but she had quite the punch with her chakra latent strength, so even in the event he wasn’t there, she believed in her to protect herself. Not to mention the three ANBU guarding her at all times, and he knew one of them was Genma, though she didn’t.

His mind wandered a bit as he walked from the cenotaph to training ground three, the same one he always used with his beloved team. His thoughts were everywhere, mainly on just how happy he had felt.

Nothing felt more right than when he laid in bed at night with Sakura in his arms. Her hair splayed about the pillow, her face buried against his bare chest. Her skin felt so soft against his, even with the few scars she held in comparison to his body. Listening to her breathe lulled him to sleep every time she spent the night at his home. She was so warm and inviting, and she always clung to him.

She still had nightmares. Sometimes she just trembled in her sleep, others he woke up to her sobbing into his shoulders or screaming his name with so much agony in her voice it ripped his heart out. He couldn’t imagine what she was seeing, he didn’t like to think of the ways Sasuke may have conjured up to murder him. He always held her close and tried to comfort her, but this had never been his strong suit. He stroked her hair and told her how much he loved her. It seemed to work well enough most nights, and he was glad because he didn’t know what else to do and it made him worry.

The copy ninja expected to find the training ground empty, but what he found was craters and cracks all over the landscape, along with uprooted trees. Usually, this is what you found when Sakura was training.

Or when she was coping with emotional stress which she has plenty of at the moment.

Was it Sasuke, or has the ridicule finally reached her? His clenched as he thought of everything he has heard whispered the past few days or the actual direct comments. Mostly from jealous women, some from other jounin who didn’t know a lick about them.

He meandered along, following the scent trail of jasmine perfume, as well as listening for either the next impact or the sound of her voice. He followed it well into the woods of the grounds. It seemed the damage done lessened the further he went, which concerned him. It felt like the anger was fading and turning into something more morose. He moved faster through the forest, catching a glimpse of a porcelain mask he recognized.

What he found was far from angry, at least now. She was kneeling on her knees, still in her hospital uniform. She was covered in dirt and green stains from nature she decided to take her stress out on. Her hands covered her face, covered in blood, dirt, and scrapes; the telltale sign she had been too far in her emotions to protect herself or even think about putting her gloves on. Her shoulders shook and as a choked sob escaped her throat, his heart just couldn’t take it anymore.

This wasn’t the first time he found her like this, and it wrenched him every time. But it was different this time because it felt like it was his fault to some degree. He never wanted to be part of something that could hurt her so deeply.

He approached her slowly, giving her all the time to notice his presence. When he came up to her, he crouched down and ran his fingers through her messy hair, letting the pads of his fingers drag against her scalp. She shuddered softly but didn’t say anything. He slowly sat down behind her and slinked his arms around her waist to pull her back snug against his chest.

She tried to force herself to calm down in Kakashi’s presence, but it only seemed to worsen. She reminded herself he wouldn’t judge her, that he’s never judged her. Wasn’t that one of the things she loved most about him? She still felt so stupid for getting this upset over some stupid bigoted opinions, from people who didn’t know a damn thing about her and Kakashi.

Then again, was that the only thing that hurt so much right now? It’s not like Sasuke hadn’t just kidnapped her best friend or threatened her team leader, that she just started dating. That Sasuke hadn’t shown her just how he might wish to make good on his threat to kill her lover.

The feeling of his fingers running through her hair made a shiver run through her and she let out a shaky breath. She felt him sit behind her and the safeness of his arms pull her close. Her chest hurt and swallowed another sob, still feeling this dumb need to act strong in front of him. If he had found her here, clearly he saw the damage she had dealt to the poor training ground before her anger morphed into pain. She turned her body into him and rested the side of her face against his chest. The silent tears soaked into his shirt but she couldn’t stop them.

“Sakura…”

She wiped her eyes hastily before the sob she’d been holding back ripped through her. The sound of his voice undid it and she was clinging to him desperately.

“I’m here for you,” He placed a chaste peck on her forehead before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got you, Sakura. I always have, you know that.”

He held her tightly before beginning to stroke her hair. “I know there’s so much going on right now. This stuff with Sasuke, and the talk around the village. Your nightmares. It can’t be easy, on top of continuing to work full time.”

The sound of his voice was a thread she clung to. Hearing the rumble in his chest when he talked, alongside his heartbeat gave her something to focus on that wasn’t Sasuke, or horrible gossip, or Kakashi being killed in some way or another. She took a long, deep breath. Everything felt so heavy.

She had just wanted to be with the man she loved, and she finally got that. Why did all this other stuff have to happen? Right as things started to get better, a wrench had to come in it. She knew that she still was with Kakashi, and she had high doubts he was going to leave, but she just wanted to enjoy it.

“Sakura, it’s going to be okay…”

He took her face into his hands and guided her to make eye contact with him. Her aqua hues were shining with tears that were still flowing down her cheeks. He wiped them gently and smiled softly at her.

She huffed and slid her fingers into his mask, dragging it off his face. “Better.” She muttered under her breath.

Kakashi chuckled softly before pecking her lips with his now bare ones. “Oh, I’m sure you think so. Just think, you’re the only one who gets to see me like this.” He held her tighter. “Who gets to have me like this, all to yourself.” He pecked her cheek.

“I know…” A small smile spread across her lips. “Ino keeps saying to ignore it, that they’re just jealous.”

“Hm, she may be on to something. I’m quite the looker.”

She rolled her eyes before sniffing once more. “Oh yeah, if only they knew what was under the mask.” She huffed. “Maybe some of them do…” She grumbled.

He shook his head, chuckling at the clear jealousy coming off of her. “Oh no. Not a single one night stand had ever seen my face. They would try, no doubt.” He pinched her ass playfully. “Only medics, who usually were too busy looking at the life-threatening issue on my body, and close friends have seen my face.” He smirked as he whispered in her ear. “Some medics are much cuter than others, and I might have let them drag my mask down and kiss me when I was drunk.”

She raised an eyebrow at him before a smile broke out across her lips and she giggled. “Better only be one of those.”

He nodded sincerely before pecking her lips. “Now, you’re smiling again and able to talk. What lead you to wreak havoc on this sentimental training ground of ours, and then break down?”

She averted her eyes instantly, not willing to fully pull her face out of his hands when they were so warm against her tear-soaked skin. Great, now she’s going to look ridiculous.

“Do think they’re right? That I used you to climb rank?” She mumbled.

He frowned. “I think that no more correct than me being a pedophile, considering the last time I check you were twenty. People twist things as they want to make reality appeal to them.”

“Ino said something similar. A bunch of women took offense that you found someone prettier, younger, and more talented. If they blame us, then their ego is still intact…” She almost laughed as she remembered another one. “Did you hear the one that I’m fucking my whole team?”

Of course, she found the humor in that one. “Whoever started that rumor must be oblivious because you’ve chased Sai and Naruto through the village with your chakra fists of wrath.” He laughed before pressing his nose against hers.

“Now, what is actually bothering you? Because I know that you don’t truly care about anyone thinks unless it our friends or Tsunade, who have all expressed happiness for us, with threats to my life if I hurt you here and there…”

He was meant with silence.

He sighed. “I’m the one who taught you to look underneath the underneath, and I especially know you’re bothered by way more than some gossip we knew would come.”

Sakura sighed and hugged him tightly. “I can’t stand this. I’m being guarded like a dog, all because Sasuke suddenly decides I matter because his snakey sensei put it in his head he needs me. I think I liked it better before when he was cold towards us.”

He ran a hand through her hair. “I know. But it’s best to keep you safe, and are you going to complain that you have to sleep with me at my house.”

She blushed lightly. “I gave no complaint about that part. More about this part.” She gestured her hands before pointing.

“One.” In a tree a few yards back.

“Two.” Leaning against a tree in the opposite direction.

“Three.” Right above her in a tree. “Which I believe I learned is Genma, because awhile a senbon just fell in front of me before a curse was muttered by that one.”

Kakashi looked up, noting she was right, that one was Genma. Shame on him for losing his anonymity so easily, but it wasn’t like Sakura hadn’t known who most of the ANBU were from treating them anyway. It’s a given he was the only one brave enough to be that close to his fiery little pinkette when she was at such an emotional high. He never knew when to leave anyone alone. He was one of the only people other than Sakura that insisted on ‘being there for him’ when he was having bad days.

“I also hate that I used to feel safe at home, and now I’m paranoid. All the time. He made it into the village without anyone knowing, all the way into my office! And he got out with Ino the same way!” She looked at Kakashi with an annoyed look.

“That bastard could be watching me right now, and I’d have not a single fucking clue!”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He felt all the same, except he was the one who had figured out he was in the village, and he hated the lack of action he had taken then. He should have done something right then and there. But he gave his former student too much credit.

And that’s how he feels like this is all his fault. But saying that wouldn’t help her. There wasn’t much he could do to change what was done, but he’d be damned if something happened again.

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up, okay? I bought you some books while you were at work before I came here.”

She smiled softly. He always tried, no matter how hard he felt like comforting was. Whether he knew it or not, he always made her feel better. As he stood up and put his hand out for her to grab, she grasped it tightly as he pulled her up. She inched up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss before his hands gripped her hips and held her there to kiss her back.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” She smiled softly before pecking his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably tear up all the training grounds, not just ours.”

She giggled softly. “Probably, but you didn’t have to say it.”

He let go of her, just to grab her hand and start walking towards the end of the woods in the training ground. “Come on. Asuma and Kurenai said something going on a double date, and I think you might want to look a little less haggard for that.” He smiled.

She glared at him. “Haggard? That’s a bit extreme!”

He chuckled as he dodged the fist he knew was becoming before he sensed it. “I love you, too.” He gave an eye crease as he pulled his mask back over the majority of his face.

“Hinata?” Naruto called out softly from his couch as he heard his door open.

“It’s me, Naruto!” She called back cheerily.

“How was lunch with Sakura? Is she… Doing okay?” He asked timidly.

Hinata sighed. “She’s… doing alright. The gossip around the village bothers her but I don’t think that’s really it.”

Naruto thought for a moment before sighing. “I don’t understand why he would do this. I thought his main goal in life was to gain power and kill Itachi, so what does Sakura have to do with that?” He grumbled. “She was so happy before all this. I just want to see her like that again.”

“Me, too,” Hinata said before sitting on the couch. “Ino said he acted possessive and jealous over the fact that she was with Kakashi. Do you think he’s always felt some way about her? Like maybe he’d come back for her once he killed his brother?”

Naruto frowned. “I think that’s what Sakura used to hope for, honestly. That he just had to do this one thing, and then he’d be able to come home. To love her, to be a family with our team. It’s what we all hoped for… in a sense. I think Kakashi was able to accept it sooner than we ever could that Sasuke was probably… never coming back.”

Hinata nodded, reaching over to grab his hand. “I know this is hard for both of you…”

He just nodded as he continued to frown at the floor. “Whatever hopes those were, they were ruined. I’ll never believe he loved Sakura if he was willing to cause her so much pain, whether it was over jealousy or whatever.”

“You should go train with your team some. It always helps me when I’m being bothered by something going on in life. I think it would be healthy for all of you.”

“You’re assuming that Sakura hasn’t gone and destroyed our favorite grounds yet.” A smile slowly spread across his lips. “Kakashi is the only one willing to go anywhere near her whenever she’s that upset. Sai and I prefer to stay far away from her chakra enhanced attacks.”

He thought for a while on that. It had always been that way. She and Kakashi were always there for the other. Just like most people left Kakashi alone when he was at the memorial, they left Sakura alone when she was destressing in training ground three. Yet, they both never left each other alone. He thought about how that’s what love is, what Sakura should get to experience. Not the way she felt for Sasuke, just this endless devotion with nothing in return.

She deserved the way Hinata always made him feel, and hopefully how he wanted to make her feel in return. A relationship with trust, admiration, sincereness, and respect was what anyone deserved. He wanted that for Sakura, and he still believed that Kakashi was where she got that from. He had never seen anyone look so happy as they did when they finally got together.

It was so hard not to preach at anyone that said so many ill things about his two teammates within his earshot. It angered him to see their happiness brought down the way people were judging them. Granny Tsunade already warned him it would do no good, but he knew if someone dared say something bad about Sakura close to her, a chakra infused from the Hokage herself was coming their way. So why couldn’t they get mouth load from him? Seemed unfair if you asked him, but he wasn’t in the mood to anger her with arguing.

“Kurenai-sensei and Asuma-sensei were planning a double date with them. I think they are trying to make Sakura feel better about the...dissent around the village.”

“Maybe that’ll be good for her. I don’t understand what the deal is anyway, I mean so what, he was our teacher? We’ve been in equal rank with him for almost three years now. And I couldn’t give a damn about some age difference when she could die tomorrow at 20 years old. Any of us could, right? We’re adults. It’s not like we’re kids anymore.” He huffed in annoyance.

Hinata sighed softly. “Just because we see it that way, doesn’t mean other people do. However, I’ve noticed most of the people spreading the rumors are women that wanted Kakashi themself. Ino said they’ll blame them to keep their ego intact.”

Naruto raised his eyebrows. “So basically a bunch of women Kakashi’s age is mad because he hardly gave them anything past a one-night stand. And that’s they were one of the lucky ones in the last decade, and now he’s with Sakura, who is youngers, prettier, and probably ten times the kunoichi they ever would have been…?”

Hinata giggled softly. “Yes, pretty much Ino’s exact words. Like typical, they’re putting down our friends to make themselves feel better.”

“Leaf shinobi are supposed to be better than that.” He grumbled before getting up from the couch.

“Not everyone has the same ideals as you, Naruto. But your ideals are one of the things I love about you, that so many people love about you, and why you’ve inspired many others. It’s one of the reasons why one day you will make a great Hokage.”

He smiled. “You believe in me, don’t you?”

“I always believed in you, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” She smiled tentatively.

He pulled her up by the grip he still held on her hand before kissing her softly, winding his arms around her hips. “I love you, Hinata,” He mumbled against her lips, pulling her against him.

She smiled before pulling away. “I love you, too.”

“Maybe we should plan a double date with them. That’d be awesome, wouldn’t it?” He grinned at her before pressing his forehead against hers.

“I think it's a good idea, and I’m sure they would enjoy it too.”

Kakashi brought Sakura a cup of tea and sat down next to her, handing her the hot drink of peppermint. She took it from him, instantly taking a sip from the cup.

He watched her closely. She was curled against the arm of his couch with her knees against her chest. Her pink strands just barely fell around her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. Her face was still stained with tears, but she had changed into one of his shirts and a pair of her shorts she had brought here. She seemed a little more relaxed, not so overwhelmed by the anger and pain. He could still sense how uneasy she felt, and he just wanted to make her day better. He hoped the dinner with Kurenai and Asuma would help lift her spirits some, a positive in all the negatives.

He loved her so much, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He’d heard everything the village had to say, some of the things he had once thought about himself. That he had been disgusting. He hated himself for it.

But now, he couldn’t think of life without her. Without being able to hold her at night, or to kiss her. Without being able to see the way she smiled whenever he told her he loved her. The warmth she held for him in her beautiful green eyes whenever she looked at him. He didn’t want to think of a day when his bed no longer had the faint smell of her jasmine perfume.

“Kakashi…?” Her voice sounded soft and hesitant.

It pulled him from his thoughts instantly. “What is it?” He asked softly, looking up to meet her eyes.

“You’ve got that distant look you get when you’re thinking about something sad…” She set her tea down on the coffee table.

He tried to smile lightly to shake off her concern. “I’m okay, it’s nothing.”

She rolled her eyes before shifting over to his side of the couch. “Okay, sure. I’ll pretend to believe that. Now lay down...”

He shifted so that he was laying on his back, and watched her curiously as she crawled over his body. She laid between his legs, resting her cheek against his chest. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable before wrapping an arm around her back. She let out a contented sigh before closing her eyes.

He ran his free hand through her hair gently as a smile spread across his lips. He kissed the top of her head. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just said so.” He spoke softly, a little surprised she had demanded affection.

He thought she might get distant from him, too bothered by some of the things people dared to say, maybe even think they were true. He should have known she wouldn’t believe them for a second, but it didn’t stop him from preparing for the worst. He played with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands loosely around his fingertips. Her body felt warm against his, and it was a comfort he never realized he needed until the first time he held her so intimately.

“Does any of this gossip bother you at all?” She wondered aloud.

Her voice sounded so small to him. It was rare she sounded so unsure. She was usually so confident these days. He wasn’t surprised to see that it bothered her, even if she felt it was stupid. He knew what was going to happen when everyone found out, but it didn’t mean he liked it or that it didn’t bother him. He used to listen to all the things that were said about his father, so the village dissent wasn’t new to him. Minato had urged to learn to ignore it long ago, but it did seem more difficult to ignore these, at least the parts where he was accused of some things he couldn’t even dream of.

“Some of it does…” He sighed. “I can’t act like people just assuming I’ve always had a thing for you doesn’t upset me. I also fear that you might feel they’re right, and it’s not true.” He tightened his arm that had been around her.

He tried to figure out what to say that didn’t seem accusatory, but also still be honest with her about his concerns.“I don’t care what they think, but I worry about how what people say will affect you, and your view of me…”

He watched her closely as she lifted her head to look at him. “I love you, and nothing anyone says will make me think any different of you. I just hate… It angers me that they just instantly assume you’re this gross creep when it was ME who initiated this relationship.”

She huffed before resting her chin against his chest. “If anyone should have ever felt harassed, it was you… But no, they just automatically assume you’re just this lecherous man that groomed me from the time I was twelve.”

“Well, I do read porn in public, so people have the right to believe I’m lecherous…” He smirked. “Not everyone knows it had some real plot to it, or care to know.” He brought a hand to her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “Just like they won’t care to know the real story behind us…”

She was looking into his eyes, at his face, before she bit her lip. “So, you don’t think I just used you and clung around you to climb the ranks as some of the women are saying?”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me some jealous sluts are making you doubt your real abilities as a kunoichi? How would you have ever charmed me into giving you jonin rank? I was tough on you guys, not to mention I’m not the one to credit for your abilities.” He kissed her nose and then her Byakugou seal. “Tsunade is to credit for all your skills, not me. I’m not even the one who gave you the recommendation. I wasn’t allowed to be a proctor for your exam either, because you were my student and it leads to bias- negative or positive.”

He pushed some of her hair out of her eyes again before smiling at her. “You earned jonin, and I’m damned proud of you for it. The other jonin kunoichis are just pissed because you’re better than them and they know it.”

“Mmmm, and maybe because I have Konoha’s number one bachelor all to myself?” She grinned, blushing softly at his words.

“Well, of course. Thank gosh, because the ‘hot-ake’ pickup lines at bars were becoming rather boring. And now, when a girl doesn’t know how to take a hint, I can just ask her if she likes chakra punches for a drink?”

Sakura burst into laughter, burying her face into his chest. “Oh, yeah, that’ll make a great reputation for us to have.”

He sat up, taking her into his arms. “Team Seven already has quite the rep, I doubt that’ll change. Now, go shower for that dinner with Asuma and Kurenai. It’s my job to make us late, not yours, remember?” He carried his slender pinkette into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the sink.

She was beaming at him as she placed her hands on each side of his face. “I love you so, so much, Kakashi.”

He gazed into her eyes, thankful for the happy glow returning to them. “I love you, too, Sakura. I always will…” He gave her lips a quick peck.

As he stepped back, she slid off the bathroom sink counter until her feet were on the floor. She began to strip before her eyes widened with sudden realization. “What the hell am I supposed to wear to this dinner on such short notice?”

“Oh, I got that covered. Dress in the bedroom. I hope you like it…” He gave a sheepish smile before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He chuckled at the tinge of pink that spread across her cheeks. He wasn’t sure how that was worth blushing over, considering all the other things they’d done lately. He picked up her teacup from earlier and walked into the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink for later. When the shower turned on, he moved onto the bedroom, gathering up things he had grabbed from her house while she was at work.

He’d seen her go out in various settings enough in the past few years to know that his favorite person took care to do her hair and makeup. He had grabbed her makeup box, along with both her straightener and curler. He almost forgot the hair dryer at her house but had turned around at the door to get it. He wasn’t exactly sure what shoes she would want to wear. Looking back on past conversations he had overheard, this was supposedly a difficult task, according to Ino. He just grabbed the black, ankle high boots that had a buckle(which he realized was just for looks), and a small heel. Surely, those went with anything, right? Hopefully.

He grabbed a few more things before taking them back to the bathroom. He hung the dress up on the towel rack, as well as some underclothing he bought for his own eyes later. He looked around the bathroom. Never once had it ever felt small to him, but now he was wondering where the hell he was going to put three new additions. Did women need both a straightener and a curler?

“I think I’ll need to invest in shelves if you’re gonna be here forever.” He said in mock annoyance.

“I’m using your razor, just in case your mind, but it’s too late if you do…” Sakura said languidly, clearly paying more attention to her legs at the moment. “And what are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” He smiled before pulling the shower curtain aside. “Your lotion is on the sink when you’re done. If you need my help, I’ll gladly lather your legs with it for you.” He gave a wink before leaving again.

“Oh god, we’d never make it dinner if I let you do that.” She mumbled affectionately as she finished the last stroke up her leg.

He stared blankly at the curtain once it was closed, wondering just how the hell Kakashi knew what lotion she even used. She shrugged it off, not putting it past him to look rather odd sniffing random lotions in the store until he found a scent he recognized. The thought made her heave with laughter as she rinsed the excess shaving cream off her legs.

She stepped out of the shower, and her mouth fell open in her surprise. She quickly realized what he meant by needing to get shelves, as there was nowhere to put all her hair tools besides the straightener on the sink, hair dryer on the back of the toilet, and the curler on top of his medicine cabinet. Her lotion, which was the same bottle from her house, was sitting next to the cup that held his toothbrush.

She grabbed the towel on the hanger, to see the dress hanging there, and her heart was full.

It was a dark emerald green a-line dress. It had a sheer lace overlay that had floral patterns stitched into it. The lace continued over the chest into long sleeves, completely see through around her shoulders and arms, the solid colors would frame her chest. It was so dressy but simple all at once. Pretty but not too much, it was perfect.

And then there was the navy blue lingerie set next to it that just made her turn rosy-colored all over again as she started to dry herself off even quicker.

“Kakashi, you bought lingerie?!” She screeched in embarrassment.

He laughed, having finally heard the response he had expected. “Sakura, I buy porn in public, I don’t think buying lingerie for you is that shocking.” He came into the bathroom. “I also noticed you were severely lacking any.”

She huffed and pouted in his direction. “Oh yes, because I had so much reason to wear it.”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction in surprise. “You don’t need a ‘reason’ to wear hot things.” He stepped behind her and reached for the garments.

He held them to her form as he spoke against her ear. “This navy will look stunning against your smooth and light toned skin. It’s strapless, so it won’t show through the sheerness of your dress. The woman said this lace is comfortable. And I honestly just wanted to see your ass in thongs. I am a pervert afterall.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll hook the clips for you if you’d like.

Sakura stared down at the blue fabric. She’d seen plenty of Ino’s lingerie, having been made to help her blonde rival choose which to wear on particular occasions. She had never felt the need to buy any. Ino seemed to only wear it on dates, and she never even bothered with those. Not to mention, it’s not like she even had all that much to show off. She bit the inside of her cheek before turning to face Kakashi. “Uh… Sure.”

He frowned. “Is something wrong? You don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“N-No! It’s not that. I love them, I just… don’t have the body for it.”

Kakashi looked at her dumbly for a moment before turning her body to face him. “Sakura, I promise you, you do. If you didn’t have the body for it, they wouldn’t make your size, which I had to ask Ino for before you ask.”

“Oh, god! I’ll never hear the end of how romantic or hot or whatever it is that you bought me underwear that...might feel slightly more appealing than cotton.”

“Much more appealing than cotton.” He corrected her with a smirk before tilting her chin up and kissing her.

She returned the kiss before pulling back. “Okay, fine. Much more appealing. Now, get out so I can get ready. Your lips are way too enticing.”

“My kisses or the fact you can see them in general now, hm?” He teased.

Damn him.

“Both, now go before we’re late! You have to get ready too, don’t you?” She playfully pushed him towards the door.

“I won’t take anywhere near as long as you.” He shot back as she effectively pushed him from the bathroom.

When he heard the hair dryer turn on, he looked at the time and realized maybe he should start getting ready. He lazily walked back to his room. He pushed through the hangers that had old, worn out ANBU uniforms hung on them. He wondered if they would ever be used again. He found the smoky gray long sleeve button shirt he had been looking for. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even worn this shirt. He vaguely wondered if it had been the funeral service for Jiraiya.

He stripped down to his boxers before grabbing the black slacks on the hanger behind the shirt and slipping them over his form. He grabbed the shirt and the tie, laying them over the bed. He pulled a white t-shirt from the drawer and pulled it over his lithe form. He grabbed the button up and slid his arms through the sleeves. He buttoned it up to the top, leaving it open. He glanced at the tie, debating if it was necessary to wear. He tucked his shirt and buttoned the pants. He adjusted everything until it felt comfortable and wasn’t pulling one way or another. He grabbed the dress shoes from the floor of his closet, and her boots before walking back to the living room.

She came out of the bathroom to see Kakashi folding up the sleeves on his shirt, which was a much hotter sight than she thought it could have been. She smiled lightly before sitting down next to him.

“Thank you for the clothes… And bringing all that from home.” She spoke softly.

He nodded as he looked over, finding her as beautiful as always. The dress had gone to the middle of her thighs. He could see the difference in her wearing the bra instead of wrappings in her chest which was an appreciative sight he hoped for. She had put on some shimmery gold shadow and smooth liner along her lashes that ended with a small wing. Her lips were tinted pink and shined with gloss.

She looked gorgeous.

“Nobody would ever think you were kunoichi if they didn’t know the only pink haired person in Konoha was none other than my lovely Sakura Haruno.” He smiled before kissing her cheek. “That dress looks way better actually on you than it ever did on a hanger.”

She smiled before leaning against him. “I like it. I’m kind of excited to go on a double date with them. It’ll be fun, right?”

He cracked a half smile. “I’m sure you’ll make it fun.”

She smiled before slipping the shoes and standing up. “Well, let’s go!”

She was brimming with excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even worn makeup, let alone fully dressed up. She grabbed Kakashi’s hand as soon as they got outside of the apartment complex, and had not let go of it since. The subtle click of her heels as she glided through the streets to the park they were supposed to meet their friends at was enough to draw everyone’s attention to them.

He followed her idly, almost being dragged as she insisted on walking so much faster than he ever did. The way her eyes shined with happiness, and the way the light from the streetlamps caught the glitter in her shadow, was mesmerizing to Kakashi. She didn’t look like that for anyone, but she had done all that for him. He never thought she needed makeup, but the gold went well with her eye color.

She didn’t seem to notice anyone looking at them as they walked together. When she looked back at him, all he saw was pure love and joy, and it made his heart clench. That’s all he ever wanted to give her, no matter what.

“You look beautiful, Sakura…” He gave an eye crease and squeezed her hand lightly.

A light blush dusted her cheeks before she looked away and walked to the gate of the park. Asuma and Kurenai were already there.

“Hey, guys!” She grinned.

“What do you know, Kakashi did wear something other than the jounin uniform.” Asuma said in a defeated tone. “I guess I owe Genma twenty bucks now.”

“I told you.” Kurenai said as she rolled her eyes.

“I still can’t believe he’s with her, of all women.”

Another woman sighed in annoyance. “Clearly, you don’t know what life is like as a ninja. Sakura is one of the most caring people in the village, and that vet was her sensei but only for a short time, she was mainly trained by Lady Tsunade.”

“She’s a child!”

Sakura turned her head towards the conversing women, surprised to see someone she didn’t know defending them. Curiosity shone in her eyes, and she felt Kakashi pull her towards him, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry about any of that tonight.” He murmured into her ear. “I’m not having some random opinionated people ruin your excitement.”

She turned to him and smiled. “You’re right, I guess.”

“Kurenai said the women are being more brutal about this than they were when we started dating.” Asuma chuckled.

Kakashi scoffed. “Oh, trust me. I’ve heard enough for a lifetime, and it’s not even the only scorn I’ve dealt with, however, it’s for sure the worst.”

Sakura leaned up and kissed his mask cheek, leaving a slightly sparkled spot on the fabric. “Blame Naruto for convincing us to confess.” She giggled.

He looked down at her before sliding his hand down to rest on her hip. “Sure, why not. But I don’t regret it either way.”

They walked alongside their friends into one of the fancier restaurants and sat down in a booth. They chatted idly for a while about anything and everything. Kakashi mostly watched Sakura, just happy to see her smiling nonstop. Happy to think it was things he did that made her smile and feel so happy.

He watched her lips as she talked, starting to understand a little bit why she wore the lipstick in the first place. She always had pinker lips, but the red made them more prominent and seemed to demand his attention. He moved his hand to rest on her thigh, a bit surprised by how warm her skin was.

“Wait for a second, you don’t even know who the ANBU that are assigned to guard you are? I mean I know anonymity is their thing, but usually, in guarding situations, at least the person being guarded knows?” Kurenai shook her head in disbelief.

Sakura shrugged. “I wasn’t told. It must not be that dire to hide who they are, because I doubt Genma would be careless enough to accidentally drop a senbon in front of my face.”

“The other two don’t know you outside of being Tsunade’s apprentice, my former student, and now my lover who is being threatened by a missing nin who was formerly your teammate.” Kakashi said lazily as he blinked a few times to focus back on the conversation.

“In other words, they probably don’t see a reason to reveal who they are if they don’t already know you.” Asuma affirmed.

“I picked who was watching you. I would have preferred Tenzou and Genma, but he’s still on our team and not with ANBU anymore. So just Genma will do, but I trained the others myself. They also think I’m a pervert.” He gave an eye crease.

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Overprotective? I’m pretty sure Shishou would have chosen decent candidates. I’m almost her daughter, according to Shizune. And that’s because everyone knows you are one.”

“Nope. She asked me to choose.”

“Ino keeps insisting the ANBU watch you guys fuck, and I insisted that there’s still privacy in guarding, especially when the last person she is getting guarded against is Kakashi, contrary to some of the villager beliefs here.” He added with a chuckle. “However, now that you mention Genma is there, I have some serious doubts.”

Sakura’s complexion instantly heated up into a cherry shade. “You don’t actually think-”

“Shizune threatened before I did, apparently.” Kakashi said with a chuckle.

Sakura stirred her miso soup a little more before taking another bite. “I sure hope it worked.” She mumbled.

She thought loosely about this moment, just out on a date with their friends. She had always wanted something like this. Just comfortable and genuine, just love. His hand on her thigh was surprising at first, but comforting. She didn’t miss the gazes that were pointed toward their table, or how people whispered, but she forced herself to focus on the date.

Which wasn’t that hard as she kept stealing glances at Kakashi dressed more casually. She definitely could get used to him wearing clothes that fit his form a little snug compared to the standard jounin garb. She enjoyed the way the fabric moved over his well-toned figure but was still loose enough to only just barely give an outline of the muscles that flex under it.

She felt Kakashi’s hand slowly moving across his thigh, and she dared to glance at his face, which looked perfectly normal, and nothing like he was stroking her skin under the table. She gulped as she crossed her legs over his hand in an attempt to hide it from others. His fingers felt cool against her heated skin, and she was trying to fight off the building arousal. He only squeezed her thigh in response which led to her stifling what would have been a small moan.

It was awfully hard to focus on anything people could have been whispering about them when she was trying to keep control of her pleasure, and she wondered if that was his goal. Or if he was just being the pervert he was and enjoying toying with her, having known how sensitive she is to even only his touch. Judging by the imprint of a smirk under his mask she could see if she squinted, it was probably both.

“I don’t think even Genma is stupid enough to test Kakashi on that matter.” Kurenai flashed a comforting grin. “So, how did you two finally figure out you both loved each other?”

Sakura smiled in return. “Well, drunk us shared a kiss, but he got all “this isn’t right” and I told Hinata about it a couple of days later.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Naruto came to my apartment ready to beat the breaks off of me because she didn’t just tell Hinata, she sobbed to her about it.” He corrected her as he removed his hand from her thigh, letting his fingers slowly slide off her skin.

She shivered slightly before huffing with a pout. “I’m sensitive.”

“Oh, I know.” He gave her an eye crease. “I tell Naruto I love her and some other sappy shit, and he tries to convince me to tell her but I won’t. And he ended up convincing her to tell me.” He pulled her against his side and brushed his lips against her temple. “And now here we are.”

“Is this part where you skip me finding you two together?” Asuma asked with a knowing grin.

“I had suspected you had some type of feelings for her before the bar. I knew she did because she never smiled as much as she did around you. After the way you threatened the guy at the bar, I was for sure about you.”

“Now just what made me so obvious?” Kakashi furrowed his eyebrows.

“You, well you with three careens of sake in his system, acted more like a jealous boyfriend as opposed to a protective team leader. Right down to openly wrapping your arm around her waist and stroking her hip.” Asuma deadpanned as if that was a stupid question.

Sakura’s cheeks dusted pink once again. “Ah, so that part didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else like I thought it had…” Her voice was quiet and timid as she felt Kakashi rubbing her hip through the fabric of the dress in the same manner as the night before.

Kurenai laughed softly. “Kakashi hardly ever got involved with women, so when he does we pay close attention. Anko was the first to point out that he was way more touchy with you than any other one before.”

“Wait, really?” Sakura asked as her curiosity became peaked before amusement shone in her eyes. “Well, no wonder why every freaking woman in the town hates my existence right. now.”

Kurenai and Asuma both laughed at her amusement at that new fact. Their plates were about finished and it was seeming to be the end of the night out. They all said their goodbyes before heading back home for the night.

The whole walk home, she couldn’t help but wonder how Kakashi was rumored to be phenomenal in bed. Well for her it was far from a rumor now. But how did he have that when he didn’t want to be touchy with the women? He would touch and stroke and kiss every inch of her body whenever they made love, and she couldn’t picture him being any other way. It seemed like it was half the fun for her. Then again, she’d never had sex before Kakashi, let alone casual sex. Maybe that was the difference?

#kayparkerwrites #kakasaku fanfiction #kakasaku #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno #kakashi x sakura #inner turmoil #fanfiction #naruto #naruto fanfiction #ino yamanaka

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writingfromkitchenator · 5 years ago

Text

Crowley ~ Greed

1,000 Followers Challenge!

Bonus Fic!

Words: 2,412

Warnings: Mild sexual references, mild violence

When you were younger, you’d taken pleasure in taking things slow, the relaxed way of life was what you knew and all you could ever want. It gave you time to think things through, to work out what you wanted to do and to go out and see the world in the way you wanted to.

It was the simple things that kept you going, the way you could lie out in a field of flowers, watching the clouds, listening to your mother sing as you say and did homework or doodling on a piece of paper, the exploring kisses that would be stolen in the school yard or in a dark park when you’d snuck out at night.

A part of you missed those times, before it all sped up and all went wrong.

Adult life was nothing that you could ever be prepared for, even less so for discovering that there were monsters in it, and after being left with virtually nothing, you decided that you wanted in.

Hunting consumed you pretty quick and you soon worked out that there was little time to slow down, there always seemed to be something to do and no time for just the regular things of life, including relationships, and while it happened, it seemed to be something far and few between.

What you used to do, getting to know someone first, went to the backburner, it all became fast wild nights in less than par motel rooms with nameless faces, alcohol burning through the bloodstream, and an awkward moment for someone in the morning.

You weren’t proud of it, but you were addicted to it. It made things feel normal, still in control, and while not the life you wanted, you wouldn’t have traded it in for the world, no matter how hard, bloody and messy it got, or how grey it seemed.

Then you met the Winchester’s and your life changed again.

It wasn’t hard to spot the two brothers as hunters, you knew the type by now, and you’d been stuck on this case for a while, so welcomed the help, no matter how reluctant they were at first.

After that, you became an odd sort of trio out of the road, and while you took your own path occasional, you just had a feeling that it was going to be better being around them.

Better was a hard thing to justify when the apocalypse threatened, not entirely sure what to do about it, feeling a little out of place for the first time in your life.

You’d never really dealt with the grief and bitterness of what you’d lost, and this was bringing a lot of it back up. No manner of angel or demon was going to be able to rid you of those thoughts, so you left, at least for a little while, convincing Sam, Dean and Castiel that you had a lead to follow. You didn’t care if they bought it or not, you just had to get away.

It didn’t take long to hear that apocalypse was over and while shame held you back at first, when news reached you that things were going bad for the Winchester’s again, you knew you had to go back.

Neither Winchester ever really trusted you again, pushing you more to the backburner on cases than you would like, but you didn’t blame them, you counted yourself lucky that they hadn’t just turned you away.

Being left behind or as the extra hand all the time, was how you met Crowley.

“Why the glum look love?” He asked one day, watching as you flicked disinterestedly through a book, the visits far and few between, but he was smart and careful enough to do it without the boys around. “I thought you would’ve liked being on your own with the way they treat you?”

You spare him a glance, never surprised by his visits. “It’s dull work Crowley.”

He snorts. “Maybe I should offer it up as a new torture method in Hell.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you flicked through more pages. “Honestly, it’s kind of a nice change from the chaos of hunting, it’s not enthralling, but it’s closer to how things used to be.”

“Boring?” Crowley’s voice a little surprised as he looked at you.

“Simple.” You said. “Less complex and definitely less grey.”

You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you turned more pages. “That can easily be changed love.”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “Nice try Crowley, I’m not that desperate.”

It took you a long time to realise that Crowley’s visits weren’t just trying to convince you to do a deal with him, and that he was just a little more than curious about you and what exactly you could do, but what you were going to do with that information was another story entirely.

Hunting was as chaotic as ever, Sam and Dean slowly letting you get more involved again after you proved you weren’t going anywhere in another potential world ending crisis, and while they still didn’t entirely trust you, even pairing you with Crowley on the odd hunt or two, they were more at ease with an extra set of hands.

Your personal life, however, slowed down, you became disinterested in the one night stands and awkward mornings, wanting something more, but never really sure what.

Or more, not wanting to admit to yourself what.

That was until you watched as Sam and Dean tried to cure Crowley. You never thought that a demon was capable of breaking, never thought that they could show any normal emotions again, but there you were, watching Crowley going through what was clearly, earnestly, the worst moment of his demonic life.

As you watched, you felt what you’d been denying tug forward a little in your mind, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it away.

Sam and Dean leaving you on guard duty didn’t help your situation because you found that you couldn’t keep yourself away from the room that they decided to keep him in.

Crowley always greeted you with a sly smile, although there was no missing the pain hidden behind his eyes now. “Back for more love?”

You would just sit at the table in the room, sometimes answering, sometimes not. “Well, they asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“I didn’t realise that that had to be so personal.”

“Don’t flatter yourself Crowley,” Your voice always went quieter when you said it, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Things are just becoming okay between Sam, Dean and I. I’m not about to mess that up.”

He always smirked and fell silent with a shake of his head, you always missing the slightly uncertain look in his eye as he casts you a glance.

Then Crowley got away and things ramped up in speed, demons hunting demons and angels hunting angels and you all felt trapped in the middle.

But when you heard Sam and Dean had tracked down Crowley, something in your gut told you that you had to get there first.

You hadn’t told Sam and Dean, but you’d been setting up a safe room well away from the Bunker, you had a feeling that it was going to become a hot spot sooner or later, become compromised, and you wanted somewhere away from that.

It was still hard to tell who was more surprised when you knocked on Crowley’s hotel door, you at the fact that you’d gotten there first, or him that it was you standing there.

“We need to go.” You said quickly. “Sam and Dean won’t be far behind.”

There was an odd silence as you drove, very aware that Crowley was watching you out of the corner of his eye, but you chose to ignore him, the exhausted and semi defeated look his eyes when he’d opened the door still weighing heavily in your mind.

As he stepped inside of your safehouse, he finally broke the silence. “Are you sure you aren’t imprisoning me here?”

You didn’t smile at the comment, instead, making sure that the door was locked. “I disabled the demon traps and any other anti-demon glyphs, so no, you’re still free to do as you please.”

Crowley frowned at you. “I wasn’t being serious Y/N, in fact, it may even be better to have some in place, but-” He paused, thinking, looking around the room. “Where did you learn all this?”

“You get forced to read enough books, you do eventually pick up more than you should.” You said, moving past him and heading into the kitchen, uncertainty beating at you as you grab a glass and fill it with water. “But there’s plenty of things here, I’d find it hard for even you to get bored.”

He was hesitating, you could feel it as he watched you drain the glass of water, unsure of what to say or do. “You didn’t have to help me Y/N.”

Sighing, you filled the glass up again, wanting to look anywhere but him. “Look, I’m not stupid Crowley, I know that that mark is bad, meaning that that blade that they want you to find, is even worse. So yeah, I do need to do this, because there’s got to be other ways around this.”

Crowley steps a little closer. “You know you don’t owe us anything. You still have a chance to walk away, leave all this behind and-”

“For what Crowley?” You asked, finally looking at him, your own gaze tired. “I have nothing out there, this life is all I’ve got, no matter how shit it is at times. I’m here and I’m staying.”

It became suddenly hard to read Crowley’s expression, although his eyes showed his inner debate on what to say next. “You know all you have to do is ask.”

“And give myself ten years of a normal life? No, I like to think I deserve better than that.” You said bitterly, leaning back on the cupboard. “And even then, there’s too much there for me to turn my back on again, even if my memories were reset, I think I’d still find my way back here.”

Crowley shifts a little uncomfortably, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally speaks. “It wouldn't be ten years, I'd make sure that you'd be free from anything.”

He was avoiding your gaze now and you realised just how unspoken this thing was. “I can't leave Crowley, not again.”

There was a dim hope in his eyes, one you knew you wouldn't be seeing if it wasn't for the human blood in his veins. “No one would judge you if you did.”

A small smile came to you and you couldn't help but laugh quietly. “Plenty would, especially when I've done it once already. They might be happy for me, but they would also still judge.”

“I wouldn't.”

It almost physically hurt to hear that, making you flinch a little. “You don't want me to go Crowley.”

You wanted to deny it entirely, continue to ignore the way you felt, but you knew it was a lie you couldn't keep up, your heart beat increasing as he stepped closer.

“I don't,” He said softly, something almost like panic flashing across his gaze. “But I also don't want to see you just fade into the background. I want you to have your own story love.”

You give him a sad smile. “Aren't you just the epitome of good and evil. Caught between being right and being selfish.”

Crowley blanches, watching you closely. “It's all shades of grey, that's all. My reasons are selfish, even greedy, but I like to think I have some reasonable intention behind them.”

“Greedy?”

He nods, slowly, as if thinking about it. “I...I wanted you to myself, for better or worse, I was never sure.” His nose screws up. “This damned addiction, it's going to be the death of me you know.”

“That's the thing, isn't it Crowley?” You asked sadly. “How's this going to go when you get over this? Would you even be here and offering me this were you normal?”

His hesitation was answer enough.

“That's what I thought.” Your voice quiet and you looked away, pushing away a little from the bench. “Nothing's changed Crowley, you are welcome to stay.”

You were surprised when his hand wrapped around your arm, stilling you before you could move on, your gaze meeting his with surprise, finding it unsure, maybe a little afraid.

“If I were feeling like myself,” He said quietly, cautiously. “Then I would ask you still to be at my side, for better or for worse, because even if I wasn't an emotional wreck, I'd still want you, I've wanted you from the moment I met you. I've never graced another as I have with you, never made the same exceptions I have with you. It's you and you only Y/N, no matter what.”

The truth was there, in his eyes more than his words, bared before you more than what anyone else ever had and in that moment, you finally admitted to yourself what you'd been avoiding for so long.

It was him and only him. If that made you selfish or greedy or whatever, you didn't care, if it meant you had to run away from the world, then so be it.

You closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his, much to his surprise. It was short, unsure, and you pulled back enough to meet his eyes.

Crowley cupped your cheeks and kissed you back, keeping it slow, exploring, a small moan bubbling in your throat as it took you back to those younger days when things were simpler and easier and you could take your time in life. It seemed like time slowed for this moment and as Crowley deepened the kiss, you hoped it would always be like this with him, that the two of you could live in the moment.

There was no more dancing around this, just as there would be no hiding the truth when it came around to it, you both knew that Sam and Dean would know, but right now, as you melted into Crowley's touch, his lips starting to trail down your jaw in a slow, purposeful manner, none of it mattered.

This was just you and him.

#supernatural #crowley #crowley x reader #short #drabbles #1000 followers challenge

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years ago

Text

Day 31: Embrace

(The sun shines brightly.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 31: Embrace

Word Count: 4008

Relationships: DLAMP (romantic), Creativitwins (familial) NOT remrom

Warnings: Remus being unclean (literally. like garbage kind of unclean), insect (ladybug). Oh my gosh I think that's it?????? lmk if I missed any !!!!!

A/N: !!!!!!!!!!!!!! aaaaa oh my gosh i'm finally done!!! i know i've had some slips and that my timing wasn't always the greatest, but surprisingly, i did every single prompt!!!!!! a lot of these works aren't very good, but i'm just glad i managed to get them all out regardless. here's the final fic, just a bunch of cute fluff!! hope ya'll enjoy this roman-centric piece, and thanks for sticking around with me throughout this stressful dabble into the land of writing challenges!

Roman has a checklist.

It’s a small one, boasting only five items, but they’re all very important. The list itself does have a physical form, a glittery artwork on a big poster board that sits proudly on his desk, but it mostly just resides in his own mind. Although he absolutely would if he could, carrying the big paper around while he completes the tasks would just get annoying after a while, and probably take away from the sincerity of his actions. He wants to be as genuine as possible, to match the love residing in his heart, so it’s important that he tries to be more serious about this. Maybe he can take some pages out of Logan’s book.

Finally finishing his checklist is literally the only thing he’s been thinking about recently, constantly in his mind nagging for completion. He thinks of it in the shower, at dinner, during their movie nights, you name it. And he’s thinking of it now, as he sits in his cushy desk chair and stares with rapt attention at his swirling, loopy handwriting and artistic doodles. It may be a short list, but certain tasks are likely to be a huge undertaking, so he’s brainstorming ideas on how to properly carry them out. One or two of which will be easy, but the others require a certain delicate touch to make sure it all goes as smoothly as possible.

He thinks he’s ready.

So Roman decides to start at task number one, which pertains to a certain fatherly side. He’s sure to be in the kitchen baking cookies, as evident by the delicious smell wafting up the stairs and down the hallway and underneath Roman’s door, so he feels fairly confident as he descends the stairs and strides into the kitchen. The smell is much stronger in here, and Roman can easily pick apart the various aromas given off by brown sugar, vanilla, and chocolate.

“These smell absolutely delectable, Padre!” Roman exclaims as he sweeps over to where Patton stands, leaning sideways on the counter as he watches the other side mold little balls of cookie dough to place on the tray in front of him. Said side looks up in surprise as he plops a mound of sweetness onto the baking paper, and a happy grin spreads across his face at the compliment.

“Thanks, kiddo! There’s a tray in the oven already, and it’ll be done in about ten minutes if you want some!” Patton tells him as he scoops out another chunk of dough from his mixing bowl, surprisingly accurate and uniform in relation to the size of all the other cookies. Roman is tempted to swipe his finger through the bowl and steal a little bit of the uncooked treat to snack on, but his mission right now is much more important, as much as he hates to pass up some of Patton’s baking.

“Actually, I came down here for something else,” Roman says cryptically, a sly smile playing at his lips when Patton sets down the ball of dough and turns to him attentively. Before he can voice his question, Roman pulls him into a tight hug, and his smirk widens when Patton makes a little noise of confusion. The other side is soon to recover, though, and he lets out happy giggles as he throws his arms around Roman’s neck. To his surprise, Roman is soon forced to move his arms when Patton jumps up and wraps his legs around him. Roman’s little huff is drowned out by Patton’s bell-like laughter, but he can’t help chuckling anyway when the gleeful side lays a flurry of kisses on his forehead, and nose, and cheeks, and lips.

“Awe, Roman! I love you so much,” Patton swoons, shifting to cup Roman’s face in his hands, and soon Roman can taste the vague sweetness of vanilla and sugar on his tongue.

God, this is gonna suck.

Okay, listen. They’ve come a long way from the days of constant arguments, from how they used to insult and snap at each other any chance they got. Roman knows how much progress they’ve made, and he’s come to really, really love their resident emo. But although he did agree to join their relationship, he hasn’t changed in the sense that he still has a lot of trouble opening up. Accepting and returning affection, especially physical, is not something that Virgil has mastered at all. And that’s fine! His love language is just a bit different, and Roman knows he cares just as much. But goddamnit, maybe he just wants to cuddle with his favourite emo once in a while, alright?

So yeah, this is going to be difficult. And he’s likely to get slapped in the arm and pushed away. But he’s still going to try, because Virgil is the second item on the checklist, and it’d be a shame to not finish it.

There’s almost an odd sense of dread as Roman walks down the hallway, an uncertainty as he approaches Virgil’s black door. Roman almost wants to turn on his heel and run away, but he’s already here, so he might as well just follow through with it. Raising his hand up to knock is mildly nerve-wracking, but the thought of getting to embrace the anxious side is incentive enough to deliver a few swift knocks on the glossy wood.

A few moments of silence pass before Roman can hear footsteps, and then the doorknob is turning from the other side. The door opens with a soft click, and it swings open in a leisurely arc to reveal a tired-looking Virgil peeking out from behind the dark paint. He raises an eyebrow when he registers the identity of his interrupter, rubs his bleary eyes with a fist covered in his jacket sleeve, and Roman really hopes he didn’t wake the other side up. Virgil already doesn’t get enough sleep, and it really wouldn’t do for him to lose more unnecessarily.

“Princey? What’s up?” Virgil asks, voice soft and a bit hoarse, and Roman actually kind of melts a little bit where he stands. Despite his exhaustion, Virgil really does look beautiful, stormy brown eyes looking at him with a surprising amount of trust from under his bangs and hood. Not for the first time, Roman feels his throat close almost painfully in the face of the all-encompassing love that wells up inside of him. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Oh, uh, sorry if I woke you up. I just-- I wanted to give you something,” Roman stammers, a small blush spreading across his face. He didn’t realize how late it must be, if even Virgil is confused as to his conscious state, so he must have been staring at his checklist for longer than he originally thought he was. A questioning hum comes from the tired side in front of him, and there’s a second where it feels like Roman might just run away. What if Virgil gets mad and slams the door in his face? It’s not like Roman would blame him. What was he thinking, coming here this late?

“Princey, you alright? What is it?” Virgil asks, caring and concerned, and Roman breathes out shakily. He surges forward and wraps his arms around the side in front of him, squeezes gently around his huge jacket, and Virgil huffs out a surprised breath. To Roman’s shock, Virgil easily laces his fingers together around Roman’s back, knocks his head companionably against the prince’s temple with a tiny, low laugh. “What, that’s all? What were you all worked up about, you drama queen?”

Roman knows he should be offended, but right now, kissing the life out of his soft, amused boyfriend is much more important.

If Roman’s being honest, the next item on this list is one of the ones that scares him the most. It’s not that Deceit hates him, or anything, but he’s really unpredictable. Roman has had the biggest crush on him for, well, ever, and he’s never acted on it before out of fear that Deceit will laugh at him or brush him off. He’s just so cool, and awesome, and although Roman was a little uneasy about his snake features at first, he’s come to think of them as unique and beautiful.

So standing here in front of Deceit’s swirly yellow door certainly gives Roman pause, and he draws a resemblance to his encounter with Virgil a couple of days ago. Both of the ex-dark sides act similarly in that they’re very protective of their space, valuing privacy and personal freedom over much else. Although it went well with Virgil, Roman just hopes that Deceit won’t see this as encroaching on his territory.

Before Roman can even knock, Deceit’s door swings open, and the other side leans on his doorframe with crossed arms and a lazy smirk. The other side is wearing a yellow hoodie and black sweatpants in lieu of his usual ensemble, and the casual clothing suits him far more than Roman expects. His comfortable attire makes Deceit look comfortable by extension, and all Roman can see is his potential soft snake boyfriend. Wanting bubbles up in the prince’s lungs, and he opens his mouth to speak.

“Deceit! I, uh. I wanted to, uh. Give you… something. Um-- here!” Roman tries and fails to articulate his intentions, and Deceit looks even more amused than before. Roman feels a vague sense that he’s being made fun of, but Deceit isn’t like that, and it’s probably just his own uncertainty and insecurity rearing its ugly head. Roman knows his confidence is often fake, but this time he’s putting that aside to focus on the present. He just hopes he’s good enough for the snake-like side to actually want to be with him.

“Hm? And what would that be?” Deceit muses smoothly, and his snake eye glints sharply in the light. It’s ominous, sure, but Roman knows it’s also incredibly fake, just a mask to put on. He behaves like that for the sole purpose of riling people up, acts like a scary villain to push people away because he’s scared to let someone get too close and trust them with a more vulnerable part of himself; he is self-preservation, after all. Roman’s not near as oblivious as one might think, and a lot of his knowledge and ability to see through the act comes from very familiar cues in Deceit that he knows are also present in himself.

So slowly stepping forward in Deceit’s space is just as much for himself as it is for Deceit, silent solidarity in the way he gently pulls the other side into a warm hug by his tense shoulders. Said side winces, allows a single moment of transparency from being caught off guard, and it just stirs an aching inside Roman’s chest. Deceit deserves just as much affection and reassurance as the rest of them, and he deeply regrets treating him like he did when he was so quick to put labels on someone before truly getting to know them.

“I, uh. I like you, Deceit. A lot. Like, romantically. Actually, I think I love you. And It’s— it’s okay if you don’t feel the same! But I just. I dunno, I want you to know you’re not alone, y’know? I got your back, so… if you ever need help, or wanna talk or something… my door’s always open, okay?” Roman says, quiet and careful and filled with so much love, and he can feel Deceit shudder in his hold. Unsure fists come up to clench in the fabric of Roman’s prince jacket, search for the comfort and support he isn’t used to receiving, and Roman is determined to never let Deceit feel alone ever again.

“I… I like you too, Roman. Romantically. That’s.. weird to say. Romantically. Huh. Ah— thanks. I appreciate it,” Deceit stumbles out even more awkwardly than Roman expects, soft and searching, and Roman realizes he really, really overestimated Deceit’s self-comfort capabilities. Roman knows he doesn’t exactly have the best track record for self-confidence, but he’s slowly learning to believe in himself with the help of his boyfriends. Deceit just… doesn’t have that. At least, he didn’t before. Now, though, when Roman presses a short kiss to the shorter side’s cheek, when Deceit breathes out a rush of air and turns to catch Roman’s lips with his own, he isn’t going to be alone anymore.

Literally the last thing Roman expects to see when he enters Logan’s room for the first time is the logical side in a unicorn onesie watching cartoons as he drinks from a sippy cup.

For a moment, he thinks he’s dreaming, what with the way Logan turns to him with wide eyes when the door clicks closed behind him. The bespectacled side doesn’t seem scared, or irritated, or surprised, but rather overjoyed, something Roman realizes with a sinking heart that he hasn’t seen in years. A pleased grin pulls at Logan’s lips, bright eyes squinting with how elated he seems to be at Roman’s appearance. He pats excitedly at his side, beckons Roman to come sit with him, and the princely side does so with a confused, uncertain, placating smile.

When he’s close enough, Logan shifts over to Roman and plops himself in the taller side’s lap, snuggling into the broader chest with a contented sigh as he wraps sweater paw fingers around his sippy cup and the turtle plushie at his feet. It’s overwhelmingly adorable, and extremely bewildering, and Roman doesn’t understand the tender, vulnerable state his nerd seems to be in. At least he doesn’t until Logan buries his head in the crook of Roman’s neck, curls up impossibly further as he watches the children’s cartoon playing on the television out of the corner of his eye, and the nagging thought pulling at the back of Roman‘s mind finally comes to light.

Of course, how could he have forgotten? Although being in the sides’ rooms have an adverse effect on those who enter it, such as Virgil’s room causing them all to have overwhelming anxiety, the effect of the room on its owner is the opposite of their purpose. Virgil’s room calms him down, Patton’s room dampens his emotions to a more tolerable level, Roman’s own room causes him to stop having so many ideas and gives a reprieve for the constant slew of creation running through his head, and Deceit’s room causes him to only tell the truth. Although Logan’s room makes the rest of the sides more logically inclined, Roman hasn’t ever actually thought about what it does to Logan himself when he’s in there.

It makes sense, now that Roman’s considering it, because his room would have the opposite effect: it’d cause him to be illogical, right? Let him indulge in things that he doesn’t when he’s out of his room. Things like cartoons, fantasy and fiction, mindless comfort— they all would constitute as illogical, irrational, or useless things in Logan’s mind, and therefore would be heightened impulses when he’s in here. And that does make sense to an extent, but their rooms don’t affect them so much as to cause their personality to do a complete 180, so there has to be something more to this that he’s missing.

“Ro, y’like cartoons too?” Logan asks, soft and high and nothing like the way he usually speaks and articulates, and the tiny voice catches Roman incredibly off guard. He sounds… he sounds like a child. He sounds little.

Oh, that must be it! Roman remembers Thomas reading about age regression, about “littlespace” being a coping mechanism for trauma or stress. Logan would definitely be the one to retain that information, store it in the books in his room that are full of facts Thomas has learned throughout his life, so it’s no wonder this has happened. Roman theorizes that since Logan is definitely stressed out a lot having to make schedules (and remake schedules when Roman messes them up— he feels bad, but his work is important, okay?!) and try hard to help Thomas study and research things, his room must take that to the next level and puts him into a childlike mindset to offset his usual workaholic tendencies. After all, the purpose of their rooms is to help the side it’s assigned to, so if Logan’s room decided that being a kid is the thing he needs the most, then it must be true.

Roman doesn’t have any complaints. Of course he wouldn’t, because if this helps Logan and allows him to relieve stress, then Roman would support him no matter what anyway. But this is also literally the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and his small boyfriend is so trusting and sweet, and he already adores this version of his nerd.

Said nerd giggles happily along with what happens on the screen, kicks his feet up and down excitedly and gasps at the cool events portrayed in the children’s show, and Roman kinda wishes he could watch him forever. However he knows his time is limited, so Roman just wraps his arms around the side in his lap, cuddles his delighted boyfriend close, and nods along when Logan rambles on about the characters in the show. He seems excited to be able to share with someone, passionately talking in that high tone and prominent lisp about his favourite characters’ backstories, and Roman is completely enamoured with him. He can’t help but push back the hood of his onesie and press kisses to the crown of Logan’s head, soft brown hair falling easily over sparkling eyes.

It’s not exactly the kind of hug Roman was hoping to get out of this originally, but Roman finds that he loves and appreciates it just as much.

This is such a terrible idea. Roman shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be all the way at the end of the hall standing in front of the bright green door. There’s a twinkie wrapper nailed to the center, and some sort of half-dried brown sludge dripping down the side, and Roman is already starting to regret this. What was he thinking? His brother hasn’t left his room in weeks, meaning he’s probably working on some crazy, grotesque project that he’ll likely just end up destroying anyway.

But there are already four boxes checked off, glittery red marks signifying their completion, and it wouldn’t make sense to quit now. After all, there’s only one more box, one more task, and it’s probably the hardest one out of all of them. The act of coming up to a side’s door in the middle of the night is starting to become very familiar, almost boring in a way. Where’s the drama, the pizzazz, the flair? Well, then again, this is Remus, so there’s sure to be something dramatic on the way.

Roman doesn’t bother knocking, just walks right in, and he’s wholly unsurprised by the state of his brother’s bedroom. Piles of trash reside in the corners, overflows from any surface it can. There’s a stack of mannequin limbs leaning against the wall, and Roman doesn’t even want to know what that’s for. The bed looks torn up, threads in the fabric frayed and split. There are stains on the walls, words written in pencil upon the discoloured wallpaper, nearly illegible with the messy scrawl. And in the middle of all of it sits Remus, cross-legged on the floor as he stares at the carpet with a completely blank expression. It’s so empty that it almost scares Roman, like there’s nothing behind those dark eyes. And then his counterpart notices Roman’s presence, shakes himself out of his stupour, and a familiar grin spreads across his face.

“Big bro! What’cha doing here? Thought y’a didn’t like my room. Isn’t it too gross and stinky for you?” Remus laughs, flinging a randomly conjured earthworm in his direction. Roman has to jump to the side to avoid it and narrowly misses stepping in a puddle of… something. He doesn’t really want to know what it is. Despite the revulsion Roman can feel at the state of his brother’s bedroom, his worry completely tramples everything else.

“No, I— stop throwing worms at me! I’m here because… well, I wanted to check on you. You’ve been here for a long time and I wanted to— to make sure you’re okay. You’re not hurt, are you?” Roman asks, neatly stepping over an old piece of chicken smashed into the carpet, and Remus’ gaze flashes with something bitter before returning to its usual bright, chaotic state. His smile never wavers, but it feels much faker than before, shows too many teeth.

“What do… whadda’ya mean? ‘f course I’m fine! I’m… I’m just playing with bugs, see?” Remus tells him, strained and spurious, and his brows pull in as he holds up a ladybug to show Roman. The latter of the two tilts his head in concern as he lowers himself to the ground in a patch of carpet unmarred by stain or rot. He wonders if it’s intentional. “Look, I conjured it myself! I mean, it’s— it’s probably not as good as yours are, but still!”

And even as Remus’ hand is dirty, even as he resides in a chamber of violence, the way he holds the ladybug is gentle, as if the small insect is a great treasure to him. Roman doesn’t miss the way Remus swallows and looks away, hunches his shoulders as if he’s prepared to be insulted and made fun of for his creation, and the familiarity of the action mirrored in Roman’s own psyche causes nausea to well up in his throat. He has Logan to calm him down with facts and rationality, Patton to give him compliments and affection, Virgil who knows just how to distract him when he’s feeling insecure about himself and his art. Remus doesn’t have that, and Roman knows that despite how much his brother can disturb him, he deserves compliments for his work too, even if said work isn’t necessarily Roman’s taste.

“It’s a very pretty ladybug, Remus,” Roman praises softly, an unusual reassurance as he lifts the ladybug up on the tip of his own finger. The red colour is a much deeper saturation than normal, and the distinction between black and white is extremely prominent, and Roman really isn’t lying when he says that it’s a good creation. The ladybug flutters its wings in tiny movements, sits picturesquely on his fingertip as Roman smiles kindly at it and then at his brother. And the way Remus looks up in wide-eyed shock, too stunned to pretend like everything’s okay, it sends a dagger of regret deep into Roman’s heart.

“Why?” Remus whispers, brows pulled together in a way that exposes his true inner turmoil. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me? I go against everything you represent.”

“Remus, you’re my brother! I made a promise to be your shield, and I intend to keep it,” Roman replies fiercely, protective and striving to make amends. Remus’ mouth falls open at the reminder of the pact they had formed as children, the pinky promise acting as an unbreakable vow to always keep each other safe. “You may be my opposite, but that just means we gotta have each other’s backs! You’re the sword, I’m the shield, remember?”

The ladybug on Roman’s fingers jumps off and flies away, dashing out of sight and leaving the two brothers alone on the floor again. It takes a lot of courage to put away his discomfort, to remind himself of who Remus truly is, but Roman manages to find that bravery within himself as he pulls his counterpart into a meaningful hug. He can feel how rigid Remus is, how much he’s locked his limbs up in an attempt to not jostle their positions. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate my little brother.”

Roman will make sure that his brother’s shaking grip and quiet, fleeting tears stay a secret, just between them.

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blueandyellow1 · 5 years ago

Text

Blue’s Dragon Chapter 2

Ao3 link.

Blue woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, the cushions were more than adequate. As she blinked the sleep away, she surveyed her surroundings. The spring in the corner, clear water flowing though, the sloped ceilings with bags hanging from them.

She turned to the golden dragon, still blocking the exit. It appeared to be asleep, with its eyes closed and chest rising and falling with even breaths. She stared at the ugly gash along its right wing.

The wound was crusted over, no longer dribbling scarlet blood. Still, it looked inflamed and painful. The princess quietly got out of her makeshift bed, moving to get a better look. Stealing frequent glances to the closed eyes, she moved along the dragon’s form, until she stood in front of the wound. Up close, it looked far worse, and her heart tugged for the dragon.

Her gaze wandered to the scales just above where the wing lay, on the back of the dragon. She wondered what it would feel like to touch it. Taking a long look at the closed eyes, she reached a hand out, only hesitating a moment before softly stroking the large scales.

To her surprise, they were warm. Her eyes widened, as her fingers explored the hard surface, dipping slightly between two. A smile stretched across her face. I’m touching a dragon! she thought, a real live dragon!

Blue giggled, and walked down to the tail, trailing her fingers along the scales. The dragon was many times larger than she, but it was still somehow slender and elegant. Upon reaching the tail, she noted the diamond shape at the tip. It was shiny, and looked sharp.

She walked about towards the beast’s head, wanting to inspect the curled horns, but stopped halfway, caught in the gaze of glowing eyes. Her eyes were wide open, scared.

But the dragon only stared at her, and she blushed at being caught. “You wouldn’t happen to have any food for breakfast, would you?” she asked finally, breaking the silence.

“There is bread here.” A tail pointed to a hanging bag.

The princess untied the bag, taking out a loaf of bread. “Want some?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

“No, thank you.” The dragon watched her eat, diamond pupils following the food from her hand to her mouth.

“So we just sit here until you’re healed? And then what? What are you going to do with me in the Sky Kingdom?” Blue asked once she had finished her piece of bread.

“You are an offering.” The beast said simply, but Blue noted a strain in its voice.

“Are your dragon friends going to eat me then?” she asked, trying to keep her tone level.

“They are not my friends.” Came the quick reply.

Blue frowned, frustrated at the beast’s shortness. “But they are going to eat me?”

“I do not know what they have planned.” Black pupils narrowed.

The princess sighed. “Any chance you know of another princess that might be a better offering than me?”

Predictably, she received no response. Blue sighed again. “What do dragons do for fun?”

“Fun?” Black pupils widened.

“Yeah, you know, what do you like to do?” Blue walked over to the dragon’s head, plopping herself down in front of it.

The dragon seemed to think for a moment. When it spoke, its voice was gentler than before. “Sing.”

Blue’s mouth fell slack. “You like to sing? Can I hear something?”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed again. “No.”

“Alright,” Blue said, disappointed. “We can talk about other things then. Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve had a conversation with someone.”

She felt the golden creature’s gaze turn curious, its face as surprisingly animated for a being that was not at all humanlike. “My mother locked me in my room. I haven’t been outside of it in months. I would thank you for rescuing me, if I wasn’t being taken to maybe be eaten.”

Glowing eyes slid to the floor before her. “I’m sorry.”

Shock courses through her body. “You’re a strange thing. You don’t seem much like the dragons I’ve read about in my books.”

“I’m not like other dragons.” This time, The dragon moved its head away from the princess.

Blue looked at the back of its head for a moment. She wondered what the the beast meant, but the hurt in its voice was a clear indication that she would get no response if she asked. “So, is this like your lair?”

“I suppose.”

“It doesn’t look much like a dragon’s lair. There’s no bones or stolen jewels,” Blue said errantly, looking around the room.

“I do not steal.” The head turned back around to look at her.

“You stole me,” the princess shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Golden eyes slid away from her, and Blue thought it looked almost ashamed.

“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, nearly inaudible.

“Did you just...apologize?” Blue asked, her eyes wide.

But the dragon didn’t respond, only pulling its eyes farther away from her.

She sighed. Okay, different topic, she thought.

“How old are you?” she tried, keeping her voice light.

“A quarter of a century.”

“A quarter century, that’s 25 right? We’re nearly the same age! I’m 23,” Blue said brightly. “That’s young for you, right? I read that dragons can live to be thousands of years old.”

“The elders are many millennia old, yes.” The dragon’s eyes stayed trained on the wall behind the princess.

“You guys have elders too? Are they like the rulers? Or do you have a king and a queen?” Blue asked, delighted that the dragon was finally opening up.

“There is a king and a queen.”

“I guess it’s not so much different than our kingdom, then! Are they nice? My mother is awful. Is there a princess there, too? Maybe we could be friends. I could be her pet!” Blue rambled, stars forming in her eyes at the thought of meeting a dragon princess.

“They are efficient.” The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “The heir is an outcast.”

Intrigued, Blue asked, “Outcast? Why?”

“For being different.”

“That’s silly. There’s nothing wrong with being different! In fact, I think it can make a leader stronger if they have a different viewpoint. Maybe they can see what their predecessor didn’t and make changes for good,” Blue argued proudly, clearly having thought about this before. “I’m going to be a much better queen than my mother. Or, that was my plan.”

The dragon’s eyes were drawn to the princess, catching the single tear that slid down her cheek.

A taloned foot raised to its neck, golden pendant glowing. A handkerchief popped out, and the dragon presented it to the princess.

Her cerulean eyes, shiny with unshed tears, turned to the dragon. After gently plucking the cloth from between the talons, she wiped her face. Voice small, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The dragon turned away once more, and for once, the princess had nothing left to say.

…

The next days drug on, as the princess stayed trapped in the small chamber. But after two long months stuck in her room in the palace, she had grown used to inactivity.

Most of her time was spent attempting to make the dragon speak to her, a mostly fruitless task. The dragon was not one for words, and she received mostly short answers.

By the third day, she had exhausted her questions for the beast, taking to drawing figures in the soft dirt with her fingers. She began to hum as a finger dipped and twisted in the soil. Her hum turned louder, and her voice filled the small chamber. Her singing voice differed from her speaking voice, it was lower and smokey.

Soon, the floors were covered in the princess’s doodles. As she was finishing the last figure, her voice lingered on a sweet pitch, vibrato shimmering as the note died away.

“You sing beautifully.”

The rough voice startled her out of her reverie. She turned to the forgotten beast, flushing. “Thank you. Sorry if I interrupted your rest.”

“I was not sleeping.” Was the simple reply.

Blue studied the dragon for a moment. It looked stronger, much more so than their first day in the chamber. Even the large wound appeared smaller, a scab formed over the previously deep gash. Just as she was about to turn back around, the dragon spoke again.

“What are these drawings on the floor?”

At first, Blue’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open. This was the first time the dragon had asked her anything. The first time it had spoken to her without her prompting. Then stars filled her eyes, a wide grin replacing the slack expression.

“Well this is me, in my favorite dress. It’s blue, like my nightgown, but it’s much more beautiful. And that’s my stupid mother. I drew her with spiky hair because I think it makes her look undignified. And that’s supposed to be my father. I don’t know what he looks like, so I just drew one of my mother’s advisors. Then here is the knight captain, she taught me how to fight, even though my mother was angry with her.” Blue’s voice was light, as she pointed to each person. As she reached the final figure, her eyes lit up. “And that’s you!”

The dragon raised its head, peering at the drawings. It lingered on Blue’s portrayal of it. “They are quite good.”

The stars in Blue’s eyes turned to supernovas as she received the compliment. “Thank you!” she nearly cried as she stood and rushed to the beast, throwing her arms around its neck.

Golden eyes shot wide open, causing the princess to recoil and step away from the beast. “I’m—I’m sorry!” she stuttered quickly, still shrinking away from the large diamond pupils.

Time seemed to freeze as the dragon held still, eyes still huge and unfocused. It made a guttural noise in the back of its throat before saying sharply, “It’s okay.”

Before the princess could reply, a thunderous crack was heard, and the sound of howling wind reached the small cave. Both beings flinched, and turned towards the noise. The dragon snakes its head out of the chamber, confirming the coming storm.

Although the dragon was blocking the exit, wind still managed to reach inside the small room, bringing a chill to the previously comfortable room. Blue shivered, the thin nightgown she wore, not providing much warmth. She rushed to her makeshift bed, but tripped in her haste. The princess stumbled forward, her foot catching on a stone embedded in the dirt.

She let out a yelp before falling into the spring. Gasping, she flailed around, her confusion not allowing her to right herself in the shallow water. The princess struggled for a few seconds before she felt herself be lifted up by curved talons. Blue looked gratefully to the dragon, who had gotten up to rescue her.

“Thanks,” she said bashfully, as she was gently placed on the dry ground. She began to wring her long hair out, drops of water making puddles by her feet.

Once the water stopped dripping from her body, she wrapped the thick duvet around her. “It sounds like a bad storm out there,” she said still shivering.

The dragon’s head came back into the chamber. “Indeed.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the storm. The dragon’s eyes had slid closed again, but Blue was too cold to sleep. She stayed huddled in her blanket, trying to bring warmth back to her body.

Then she sneezed, and the dragon’s eyes popped open. “You are cold,” it said, tone unreadable.

Blue nodded miserably, pulling the duvet tighter around her. The dragon watched her for a moment, before untying a hanging bundle with its tail. Three sticks of firewood fell out beside the princess. Blue watched, wide eyed, as the dragon slowly stood, and stretched its neck towards her. It took a sharp breath before opening its mouth and letting out a small burst of fire. The wood crackled as it ignited, bathing the small chamber in a warm light.

“Thank you,” she breathed and scooted closer to the flames.

The dragon laid down again, watching Blue as she stuck her hands out to warm them. “You’re welcome.”

For a while, the only sound was the crackling of the wood. Blue slowly felt the chill leave her body, although her long hair had left the blanket damp. She groaned, shifting to find a dry spot. Upon finding none, she lifted her head, an idea strong in her mind.

“Yellow?” she called shyly.

Golden eyes focused on her, surprised at the use of its name.

Blue took a deep breath, gathering her confidence. “May I lean against you? My blanket is wet, and I’m still a bit cold.”

The dragon regarded her for a long time, until Blue was sure it wouldn’t respond.

But it did. “Yes,” it said, voice deeper than usual.

It moved, creating a space big enough for her body near the base of its injured wing. The princess slowly approached the beast, carefully setting down a pillow. “Thank you,” she whispered as she lay down, leaning against the dragon’s heated scales.

Finally warm, the princess felt sleep tug on her eyelids. “I’m going to sleep here,” she announced softly.

Glowing eyes stayed on her until her shallow breaths turned heavy. When it was sure she was fast asleep, the dragon carefully took the damp blanket off of her, spreading it out next to the fire to dry.

The princess stirred slightly at the movement, but didn’t wake. After a few more seconds, the dragon slowly extended its wing, draping the it across Blue’s sleeping form. A smile danced across her pale face, unconsciously pleased at the heated skin against her.

Satisfied, the dragon curled its head around her, and closed its eyes.

“Sleep well, Princess.”

#my writing #bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #steven universe fanfic #steven universe au #blue's dragon

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

Text

Tempest in a Teacup: Six

“You’ll be at one of the shows, right?” you ask, sitting on a stack of folded mats watching Clint get target practice in.

He can hear the anxiety in your voice despite how casually you ask the question and he stops to look at you. You look like you’re trying not to look worried. Or upset. But you are and he knows it. He may have only heard your end of the phone conversation you had with your mom an hour ago, but he knew.

Clint hid behind bravado. You got polite. Polite, and quiet, and meek. Even if the words burned your mouth coming out. The longer Reggie railed at you the less confrontational you got until your replies were barely audible. Or barely replies.

He smiles a little, “Unless something major happens,” he promises, “I’ll be there opening night. With Nat. And anyone else I can wrangle into coming.”

You nod and go back to sketching. Idle doodles that you could turn into anything. Probably a new dress design for Pepper to show off. For such a practical woman, she liked having her own personal designer to make her fancy dresses. Clint went back to shooting, half keeping an eye on you. It was hard to get a fix sometimes on how you were feeling.

You were good at being okay when you weren’t.

It was another thing Clint added to his list of sins. He and Reggie hadn’t exactly been ready for you and they hadn’t exactly given you a life where you could just feel your feelings as they happened. He supposed that that’s why you were so good at art. It was the one place you didn’t have to hide anything. “How is the production going?” he asked.

You shrug, “It’s a show. My crew are a bunch of stoners, my cast is... a cast, and the director is just flaky. But we’ll get it together.” Clint snorted, “So, pretty standard?” You nod, “You know, if I spent as much time actually managing as I do keeping my lighting guys from getting high in the back lot I’d get a lot more done.” Clint just shook his head, smiling a little. You were laying on the mats staring at the ceiling now. Purple hair spilling down like ink and one foot dangling off the end. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you didn’t have a care in the world right now.

Clint wanted you to be little again. To be able to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heft you around, making you giggle. He wanted your biggest problem to be a skinned knee and learning guitar. It felt fundamentally wrong to him that something as simple as dating someone would cause that much of a disturbance. That anyone would make you feel bad because you cared for someone... Even if he wasn’t sure that person cared for you the way they should.

_________

Opening night of the show, Clint has a Posse. A whole herd, really. Tony and Pepper, Nat, Steve, Bucky, Thor, and of all people, Loki. The front lobby ahead of the auditorium is decked out. It looks like an honest to god museum. A fancy presentation. With ushers and Artifacts on display. Clint whistles softly, “Wonder where she put the mummy case she made?” he asks. There’s a punch that looks like champagne and Nat snags a glass with a smile, “Inside probably... Isn’t this supposed to be like a murder mystery thing?” Clint shrugs, “I’m just here to admire all the pretty shit.”

It takes a moment for them to catch sight of you. You look neat and professional in a sensible dark skirt, white blouse, and red heels. You’re putting on a headset and clipping the battery pack onto the back of your skirt. You look focused and Clint takes a second, fiddling with his hearing aids. Sometimes, if he sets it right, he can hear the backstage chatter and he cares about that more than the rest of the show. He can hear you quietly calling cues for the atmosphere. Reining in all the opening night jitters. When the lights flicker and people are being shone to their seats you disappear. Back to the back to get everything. The show is fun. Thor enjoys it a good deal, laughing loudly. Loki is confused, but he supposes that, for Children, it’s well done. Clint listens to you. Which leads to him snorting involuntarily at some things that aren’t meant to be funny. Kat is on stage and she does fine. She’s funny, even if she does overact a little. And by the time the show is over, Clint can hear you getting tired.

He supposes being the working memory for a whole show is tiring. At the end of the show as the Cast takes their bows to thunderous applause and the Audience makes their way out, you’re standing against a wall barefoot, talking to a hand full of people who are doing the cleanup and reset. He doesn’t miss that you’re studiously ignoring Kat for right now and up close you look like your nerves are getting frayed. Half a second later when Kat has her tongue halfway down another girl’s throat, it makes a lot more sense. “Oh no,” Nat said softly. Clint winced, “What do I even say?” he asked. Not only was this happening, but it was happening in front of everyone. “Don’t. Say. A. Word.” Natasha murmured, “Just get her out of here.”

Clint nods and walks over to you, letting you hide your face in his chest as he hugs you hard. “Good show, Punk,” he says. The others try really hard not to lurk awkwardly. Pepper and Natasha both look ready to hurt someone and Steve and Tony both reflexively grab a redhead and hold on. Clint doesn’t say another word. He just steers you out the doors after you put your shoes back on. The others let him walk ahead with you, giving you a minute to either break apart or hold yourself together a little tighter. “How about we introduce Thor to Chicago deep dish?” he says bracingly. You take a deep breath, “I’m really tired, dad,” you murmur exhaling slowly. He nods, “So we’ll send the others ahead,” he says. “You and I can go wander the museum for a while,” He pulls out his phone to text Nat and kisses your head. “It’s closing in a few minutes,” you point out. Clint shrugs, “I know a guy,” he says fondly, “C ‘ mon, punk.”

He takes your arm and walks you to his car. In the ugly street lamp lighting, you look pale and tense. It makes Clint feel sick.

This is too many feelings all at once for a kid. For any kid. This isn’t a dad thing. It’s a mom thing. And your mom is.. well. Less than mom like. For the millionth time in your life, he wishes he was a better parent.

At the museum, he lets you lead. You’re just barely able to hold it together. You can’t take any more pressure. It doesn’t take long for you to find your favorite piece. The click of your heels in the empty rooms feels too loud so you take them off and carry them. When you sit on the bench, feet crossed at the ankles, Clint sits next to you. It doesn’t take long.

You burst into tears, hiding your face in your hands and all he can do is pull you close and rock you gently. He doesn’t try to hush you and he doesn’t try to make it better. He knows you probably feel like it will never stop hurting. “What happened, baby girl?” he asks gently. You tell him the story between sobs. Crying so hard that at one point he has to hand you a trash can so you can be sick. She used you. Not even for anything good. Just to get back with her ex. Clint cringed, “That’s fucked,” he said, “Jesus Christ, kid.”

“Right?” you say, leaning against his side, “Who fucking does that? Like damn. Just get your nipple pierced and go do ho shit for a minute like a normal goddamn person. Fuck.” The rest of it is in Gaelic which he doesn’t understand but, Clint can’t help it. Your accent is flaring up and it’s funny. He snorts and you groan, “My head hurts.”

“Well,” he says gently, hugging you and kissing your forehead, “It might help if we get you something to eat.” You nod and he smoothes his thumb over your cheekbone, “You up for pizza?”

You nod again, “I don’t want to go home.” Clint frowns but stands, holding out a hand for you to take, “So we won’t do that. You can stay with Nat for the night and she and I will stay for the rest of the shows.” It’s not up for debate and so you don’t try. In a way, it’s comforting that they’re going to be there.

He walks you back to the car and when the two of you walk into the restaurant, no one so much as mentions Kat. It’s as if she didn’t exist. The others quietly filled in Thor and Loki about what the fuss had been before you arrived and Loki had been summarily threatened if he so much as thought about saying anything. You stayed quiet, mentally and physically wrung out. Too tired and numb after your cry out to be particularly funny or talkative. “You need sleep,” Nat said finally, “you look exhausted.” You can’t even protest, “We have two shows tomorrow and your first call time in 9:30am... It’s gonna be a long fucking day.” Nat pulls you to your feet with a groan, “You’re really lucky I like you,” she teases, giving you a second to hug Clint goodnight and say goodnight to everyone else before she marches you to the elevator to put you to bed.

“So,” Tony asks as soon as you’re out of earshot, “What the fuck?”

Clint sighed and told them what you told him. “That’s fucked,” Steve said. “Right?” Clint said.

It didn’t take long for them all to decide to stay. Well. Thor decided for Loki he was going to stay. But they figured a show of force. Or at the very least support might get you through the next day without having you fall apart.

Tony handed Clint a drink and squeezed his shoulder, “How was the museum?” he asked. Clint took the drink with a sigh, “She cried so hard she made herself sick and yelled about things for a minute,” he said. “What I could understand of what she was yelling was funny so... I think she’ll be okay.”

“What’d she say?” Steve asked. “What I understood was ‘Who fucking does that? Like damn. Just get your nipple pierced and go do ho shit for a minute like a normal goddamn person. Fuck.’ The rest of it was in Gaelic and I’m probably lucky I couldn’t understand it.” he says. Bucky coughed, “Wow... that’s... Is that what girls do after a break up now? What happened to ice cream?”

Clint snorted, “Fucked if I know, I’ve not been on the dating scene in a while.”

“You and Natasha date,” Thor pointed out. “No,” Clint clarified, “We hang out... And she helps me raise my kid. It’s more than dating but... not dating.” Thor was left to think it over and Pepper dragged Tony off to bed. Clint sighed, “Man, fuck being a teenager,” he said, “I wouldn’t do that shit again for anything. Especially not now.” Steve nodded, “I mean, there’s no polio now,” he said, “That’s helpful.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “On that now, I’m going to bed. I better go now if I’m gonna hit that 9am call time.”

“Do we all have to go to that?” Tony called.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Clint called over his shoulder, headed to the elevator.

_______

Upstairs, you and Natasha lay facing each other on the bed. “I’m sorry, princess,” she said softly, stroking your hair as you finish telling her what happened. You sigh, “I just. I really loved her.” When you start crying again she wipes away your tears with a tissue carefully. “I know you did,” she whispered, “You still do.” There’s a shaky breath and you nod again, “I hate this,” you say softly, “I feel sick and it feels like my heart’s being ripped out every time I look at her.”

“It’ll get better, princess,” she says softly, “It’ll take a while. But one day you’ll wake up and it won’t be as bad. And then another day, this is just a bad few weeks.” You make a soft unhappy sound and Natasha smiles a little, “I promise,” she soothes. “We’ll be with you this weekend to get you through it,” she said, stroking your hair, “After that, I’m a phone call away,” she reminded, “You need anything. Even if it’s just something you need to yell about.” You nod, your eyes closing. You’re exhausted but you can’t seem to settle down.

She laces the fingers of one hand through yours and continues to stroke your hair, humming softly. It’s a Russian lullaby, you know. But you don’t know the words. Nat’s never told you the words, she says she only remembers the melody. But it’s familiar. She’s done this since you were little. Since your dad was on a mission and you found your way to Nat. Even when the spy was afraid to be near you she was nice. So when you were scared and stuck to her like glue, needing an anchor in the cold utilitarian SHEILD compound, she’d held you in her lap while she typed, humming to herself and you'd finally fallen asleep with your head on her shoulder.

That’s how Coulson and your dad had found you after a moment of panic when you weren’t in your bed. Passed out on a Russian Spy’s shoulder while she typed mission reports and hummed pieces of a Russian lullaby.

Tags: @lancsnerd @stevieang @golddaggers @blameitonthecauseway @qxeen-of-hearts @process-pending @xmarveled @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt

#Dad!Clint #natasha romanoff #clint barton #hawkeye #tony stark #steve rogers #Bucky Barnes #platonic avengers x reader

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yellowsugarwords · 6 years ago

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I just thought of an angsty af violet line “I’m nobody’s first choice” idk where I though of it from but can you please write something angsty for violet because as soon as that popped into my head I was desperate for violet angst aaaaaaa

I’m combining it with this one:

I’m not sure if you’ve seen the theories going around about Violet having amnesia but I would love to read something around it!

because aaaaangst

Violet sat isolated at the table.

But it was nothing knew.

Mitch and Omar were cracking jokes with Willy, keeping him entertained.

AJ and Tenn sat together, doodling between bites.

They sat by Clementine and Louis, flirting up a storm.

Treating the little two as if they were their own.

Aasim and Ruby sat cuddled up.

There Violet sat.

Alone at the end of the table.

Stomaching her sadness.

Saying nothing.

“Goodnight Violet,” Clem called.

Violet said nothing.

Ignoring Clementine calling her from down the hall.

Violet entered her room without a word.

And snapped the door shut.

Everyone always took chores in pairs.

Normally Violet worked alone.

Or tacked onto a pair of 2.

Normally, she wanted to be alone.

She felt less like a burden that way.

Everyone was paired up later that week for chores.

Clem and Louis were giggling getting ready for hunting.

The others couples were geared up for cooking and wood chopping and hauling.

Violet stood alone.

Watching.

Waiting to go fishing.

“I need a fishing partner,” Violet said.

She was met with silence.

Everyone chattering with each other.

Ignoring her.

She snapped her hand-made fishing rod in half.

And everyone stopped.

When eyes landed on her, Violet threw it to the ground.

“Forget it.” She hissed.

“Violet?” Clem asked.

“Fuck off,” Violet snapped.

Louis scoffed, appalled. “Violet, what—“

“I said fuck off!” She yelled, starting away.

Clementine detached herself from Louis, starting after her.

She settled a hand against the blonde’s shoulder. “Violet—“

Violet whipped around.

And ripped it off.

They made dead eye-contact.

And Clementine felt a chill surge through her.

“Violet—”

“Leave me alone, Clementine.” Violet snapped.

Her words were poisonous.

Clementine’s gaze rang with hurt. “But why?”

Violet didn’t care. “Because I’m really sick of always being the last choice around here.”

Everyone froze.

Clementine’s stance faltered.

Her eyes bulged.

Everyone behind them held their breath.

Violet took a glance over everyone.

And scoffed.

“Leave me alone. All of you.”

She ripped away.

From behind her, she heard Louis call her.

“Vi, please—”

“I don’t want your pity.” She snapped.

And slammed Ericson’s front doors behind her.

Violet stayed stowed away for days.

Only coming out for food.

To work.

But she worked alone.

And talked to no one.

It wasn’t different from before.

Only now, there was open hostility.

That was, until Delta swung by.

And threatened their presence.

And vanished.

Violet still kept to herself.

She was only more alert now.

But continued ignoring everyone’s advances.

She didn’t want to hear it.

Then, Delta attacked.

Came barging in.

Horses and torches blaring.

Violet had been fighting off a Delta soldier.

Yelling and screaming.

Trying to wriggle the baseball bat out of their palms.

Then, the Delta soldier kicked her in the stomach.

Her head flew forward.

Smashed against the wood.

And she crumpled to the ground.

Blacked out.

From afar, Clem thought she was dead.

So, she screamed.

And she didn’t know she was doing it.

The world was silent.

She couldn’t control herself.

Her grief took control of her.

And wrangled control from her brain.

Clementine body-tackled the Delta soldier.

Slamming her knife into his side.

She couldn’t hear his scream.

She could only see his mouth open.

After she had pinned him to the ground.

Louis pulled Violet away.

Carrying her body to Ericson’s front doors.

Pulling her to shelter.

Clementine kept stabbing.

And sobbing.

She couldn’t stop.

She could only watch the pain surge in his eyes.

It still wasn’t enough.

Lilly kicked her off.

And Clem grunted as she was slammed into the dirt.

And watched through blurred tears as the figure before he was tugged to his feet.

And started stumbling away.

Clementine could hardly see.

Or breathe.

Or feel.

She was too numbed.

Too horrified.

They were retreating.

Lilly saw the violence they carried.

The vile violence they were capable of.

And wanted no part of it.

They were out of there in a matter of minutes.

So quickly she almost left some men behind.

But they needed to get out.

They didn’t want to poke the bear that was Ericson.

They didn’t want to kill more of their men at the hands of children.

How mortifying.

Mitch, stabbed by Lilly but still functioning, close the front gates.

Clutching his wounded shoulder.

Willy helped to ease his pressure.

AJ helped Tenn to safety.

Ruby helped Aasim walk on his wounded ankle.

She began guiding him to a place to sit.

Willy tugged Mitch to the same area.

Inside was where Clementine stumbled to.

Disorientated and sore from Lilly’s kick.

And there, the moment she opened the doors, she saw them.

She saw Louis on the ground.

Violet sprawled in his arms.

Still.

And silent.

Clem released another strangled sob.

Louis’ gaze didn’t flinch from the blonde.

“She’s breathing,” he said softly. “Just knocked out.”

Clementine crashed to her knees.

And wept.

“Oh thank God,” she bubbled through tears.

Louis tugged her closer.

Under his arm.

Tightly.

Snuggly.

Holding her broken pieces together.

They brought her into the music room.

And laid her down with pillows and blankets.

Everyone took shifts watching her.

But Louis and Clementine never left.

Clementine was beginning to fade.

She was exhausted.

Her head ached and throbbed.

Louis slipped up behind her and cupped her shoulders.

“Clem,” he started, “you should rest.”

Clementine parted his lips to protest.

Hesitating to let her brain catch up with her lips.

And then, they heard a groan.

They snapped to life.

And attention.

And Clementine threw herself to her feet.

It had been nearing 6 hours.

And they had been terrified to wait longer.

Her eyes slid open.

And seemed glasses over and vacant.

“Violet,” Clem sobbed, clutching her hand.

Louis smiled, tears bubbling. “We’re so glad to see you back, Vi.”

Violet blinked.

And glanced from side to side.

And furrowed her brows.

Clem blinked, confused. “Vi?”

Violet squinted more. “What?” She finally pushed out.

And Louis and Clem froze.

And hitched their breath.

“No,” Louis hushed. “There’s no way.”

Clementine could see her spirit leave her body.

She felt weightless.

Lost in disbelief.

Violet didn’t know who they were.

She didn’t know who any of them were.

The Violet they knew before, the one so angry with them, was gone.

They couldn’t apologize.

They couldn’t fix it.

They couldn’t make her feel better.

They lost her.

The Violet they once knew was gone.

Ruby brought her water and food.

Violet greedily took it.

And everyone watched.

Clementine and Louis guided Violet outside at sunrise.

And sat her down for breakfast.

They rattled through everyone’s names.

And Violet listener blankly.

Her innocence and confusion almost made their guilt worse.

They taught her how to hunt.

And how to to fish.

She laughed when she caught her first fish.

And groaned when Mitch showed her out to gut it.

Violet didn’t talk much these days.

She couldn’t. Just normally didn’t.

She didn’t see a need to.

AJ taught her how to play cards.

And she dominated against Louis.

Tenn taught her how to draw.

Horribly.

And Willy always made fun of her.

And Violet always became genuinely offended by his teasing.

Violet lived for hunting with Louis.

Even though she sucked at it.

Louis loved seeing the joy in her eyes.

The excitement.

The disgust.

It brought him joy.

Her newfound happy innocence.

At dinner that night, Clementine sat with Violet.

And watched as Violet smiled at her and sat down.

For the first time since Violet’s outburst, Clementine felt peace.

She never thought she would see that smile ever again.

One with such forgiveness.

Such gentleness.

Violet are happily.

Humming as the people around her spoke.

Laughing.

Beaming.

Being a whole new Violet.

Clementine watched.

As Louis did.

Amazed.

At peace.

Maybe this was a chance.

A chance to start over.

To be better to Violet.

To value her as she deserved to be.

Clementine wavered in her tears.

Watching Violet’s happiness.

Watching the way Violet’s gaze settled on her again.

Kindly.

Happily.

Then, seeing Violet’s eyes on her, watching her smile as she chewed, Clementine’s stomach flipped.

And she lunged out.

And hugged her.

And Violet blinked.

And looked at Louis.

And hesitantly hugged her back

It was the start of a new beginning.

For all of them.

But especially for Violet.

But maybe one day it wouldn’t need to be.

Maybe one day she could go back to the past.

And maybe, if that day arrives, the past can become happier.

Because now, they have a chance to change it.

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years ago

Text

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Three! If you’d like to be tagged, please sent an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. Online personality problems. Guilt. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“Hi, there,” The woman giggled into the mic as Jensen played up the flirty eyebrow bounce and cheesy smile that would be cast over Tumblr within twenty four hours.

He was finished after that final panel, for the trip. Nothing sounded better than a hot shower and catching some sleep. His mind was still reeling from the news he'd been given that morning, but he couldn't focus on that. So, he buried himself behind that charming persona he'd created.

“Dude, leave her alone...she wants me,” Jared smoothed his thick, long, chestnut locks in a way that caused thirsty cries from all around. He cackled as his friend mock frowned his way; unimpressed at the turn of attention. Earning the familiar high pitched laugh from the crowd in front of them.

It was easy to play into their hands. To take the nerves that came with being shy and put it towards acting like a dork with his best friend. He appreciated the disguise more than he'd ever say. Letting it mask the worry and fear he could feel churning inside of him when it was too quiet for long.

“Actually, my question is for Jensen-”

“Ha!” The mentioned man in question leaned forward at the barked utterance, pretending to gloat. Smugly bouncing his brows at Padalecki.

With a deep, regretful sigh, the taller of the two settled back in his chair; wrapping his arms around the back of it as he sat in reverse, “Okay, I guess.” The over dramatically stated words were coupled with a theatrical sulk that drew forth more giggles.

“I was wondering if Y/N and the kids are enjoying the trip to San Diego,” It was no secret that his family had been flocked around him. Until now, that is. The way he paused at that had every eye present turning towards him.

“Uh, actually...” He forced his lips to stay upright. “They're back home, right now.” Concerned 'awes' filled the air. “No, no. It's okay. They're living it up.” Jared turned his gaze back to the man he'd been brothers with for almost two decades. Not buying into the idea that he was really alright with it. “Last time I checked, they were having some kinda dance party. Again.” The way he clenched his teeth relaxed the fans a bit. An over emphasized grimace always seemed to break the mood. “It was wild. There was pink everywhere and a herd of little girls shouting to music.”

“Odette was leading the charge on the one I got,” The taller man joined in, having received his own recording. “Kicked Zeppelin over to my place for an old fashioned dinosaur night with the boys.” More awes filled the air.

“Y/N sent you something? I thought you two still weren't talking after you tried to drown her?” His brow crooked, finding something he could latch onto. Knowing that his friend had delivered that ammo on purpose. He really did love the moose.

“I can explain!” Jared held up his hand towards the 'ooohs,' and then stopped. “No... no, I can't.” His head dipped in false shame, earning another set of rambunctious chuckles.

“I can.” Jensen easily took over. Turning to better face the crowd now that he'd successfully maneuvered around the original question. “This guy tortures my nanny. She's like the female version of Misha to Jared. It's endless.” The mentioned man's lips screwed up as he nodded proudly, accepting the label that was thrown onto you. “So, we were at a cookout over at his place. I'm flipping burgers and relaxing with a beer. You know...like a normal person.” His words only made his friend shrug. Zero shame in sight. “Next thing I know? She's screeching as he full on tosses her into the pool.”

“She called me old!” The roar that followed was deafening. “See? They get it!” He beamed at the response only serving to make Jensen over-exaggerate the roll of his green eyes. “And, it worked. What did she say after?”

“You're a child.” The admission was straightforward.

“Meaning that I'm young, and that she was wrong.” A round of applause made him get to his feet, and bow as the widower shook his head in mock shame. Cracking his own grin.

The mic was lifted back to Jensen's lips, “Dude...you started a war because she told the truth?” He knew what had been said, but the crowd was eating it up. Keeping him safe for a little while longer.

“That hurts...” A pat to the heart was thrown in. “That hurts me right there.”

“The kids all joined in. It was chaos.” Ackles explained the previous comment to the women, with a few men scattered here and there. “My kids and Y/N versus his herd and him. We needed an ark to get to the tables. They soaked everything.” His hand panned across the people in front of him, emphasizing how far the damage had spread. “Everything. Gen thought they were going to kill each other.” Jared cackled. Remembering the look on his wife's face. “Y'all know how we had to stop pranking each other, right? 'Cause it was so deadly? That's what they should be doing. Instead, she's become this...epic battle partner. I'm thinking they'll start the next apocalypse before this is over.” A proud nod confirmed it. Jared wouldn't give in until the world ended. Or, he had to go back to work. Whichever happened first.

“Do you prank Y/N?” Someone shouted, catching his attention.

“Do I... Do I prank her? Are you kidding? Do I look stupid?” More laughs filled the air as he shuddered something fierce. “Misha? Absolutely. He doesn't fight back.” His fingers tacked off each point. “He doesn't live in my house. Doesn't hang out with my kids. I like not having to worry about her sicking my spawn on me in retaliation. They'd do it in a heart beat, too.” And most importantly, it kept the professional barriers somewhat in place. “Yeah, no, Y/N and I don't....we're not...” Weren't anything other than co-parents, employer and employee, and almost friends in an odd sort of way. How's that for complicated?

“As fun as I am,” Jared finished, saving him, again. Hoping that the fans wouldn't take that last statement as he had started to. He covered his own look of interest before diving back into the panel. “Now, that we went way off topic....who's next?”

–

“How did the 'mom' thing even start?” You asked in confusion, scrolling through your Instagram notifications. Your feet thrown over the back of the couch as you sprawled. Making yourself quite at home in the Ackles house. The selfie you'd posted while cleaning the damage the girls had caused was packed.

Not that you weren't used to it by that stage. The moment Danneel had tagged you in a post, it had been over. You'd been stalked and fawned over by some. When she passed? You'd been flocked for updates about the Ackles family.

It had taken a year for you to gather the courage to begin posting again. Once you did? The fandom clung to you for offering small pieces of what life was like inside the Ackles' household. Needing to have that sense of closeness to the supernatural family, still, even with a member gone.

The simple image of you with Oscar resting his head on your lap as you sorted the makeup away had garnered the usual 'queen', 'mom', and 'I love yous' mixed with the occasional trash talker. Once Jensen had commented saying he wanted his dog back when he got home? It had grown worse. When you told him that he'd have to fight you for the golden doodle? The post had blown up. The fans demanding to know if you and him had something going on.

Apparently his panel had only cemented the idea, somehow. You hadn't watched it. Leaving you to only wonder what he'd said to garner that response. Sure it had simply been taken out of context.

You scrolled on, determined to find some answers. A few flicks of your fingers and fate intervened. The phone slipped to your face. Making you wince all the while. As if life had directly told you that social media was bad for your health.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone to the couch. Trying to not let the extreme Danneel and Jensen fans get under your skin. Too many 'you'll never be her' comments filled your mind. More than enough 'stop trying to take her place' had you questioning where you stood. You were doing everything you could to get what was needed done while not dancing on your deceased friend's toes.

Did the world really not understand? Were you really any better off than they suggested? The small crush said you weren't.

“No idea,” Genevieve stated seriously, walking towards the grey couch you were occupying with a pile of healthy snacks loaded up. Pulling you from the internal struggle. She'd been extra conscious of what she was putting into her body since she'd discovered the newest pregnancy. “I just kinda...roll with it.”

She and the kiddos were bunking with you. Tag teaming was so much simpler when the baby exhaustion hit. And it gave the both of you some grownup time together when the men were away.

“It's so strange,” You picked up one of the grapes with your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Giving up on trying to understand the fact that you'd become an icon of sorts- and the ramifications- for simply nannying some, albeit great, kids.

At your friend's next words, you choked, “So...what's the deal with you and Jensen?”

“It's the same as its always been,” Came the broken words as you got back a hold of yourself. Brushing it off. “Why?”

“Just curious,” That wasn't it. The cool, actress's poker face she wore said as much. But, you were too sensitive to call her out on it, just then. Luckily, she changed gears. “I can't believe that this is it...The last season is being filmed this year.”

The CW had finally pulled the plug on the Winchesters once it had hit adulthood. The boys had found out in a meeting that morning. They'd known it was coming. Had even agreed to it. And yet? Hearing the finality of it? Was another nail in the coffin.

“Eighteen seasons...It's crazy.” Your hand ran through your hair as you looked at the old episode on screen. Sister Jo stood off against Michael!Dean. The tension in the scene was palpable. It didn't hurt to watch it, anymore. Instead, you focused on the fact that she'd been doing what she loved with the man she'd been head over heels for. “How's Jared holding up?”

“He's zeroed in on the kids. Telling himself that it's going to be good for us in the end.” Her hand rubbed over her still flat stomach. “But, he's definitely feeling it. He's been Sam for so long... Saying goodbye is hard.”

“That it is,” You agreed, frowning at the screen. Wondering how Jensen was taking the day.

He hadn't said a thing to you when he'd checked in. Simply had asked for an update on the household before he crashed. Dean had become his crutch. Without the Winchester in his life, you weren't quite sure what he'd do with himself.

Ackles had a passion for directing and acting. There was no doubt about it. But, Supernatural had become everything when his life had turned upside down. It had given him the consistency he'd needed to get through. And while things had been okay for a time? It would be just another major thing he was losing.

Your socked foot rubbed over the soft fur of Icarus. The cockapoo was up there in age. He'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure at sixteen years old. The white, fifteen pounds of floof didn't let it deter him, though. A couple of pills a day kept him comfortable and loved for as long as he could be. But, it had gotten under Jensen's skin, too.

It made your stomach churn to think about how fast the negative could pile up on already weakened shoulders. And yet, he wanted you to step back. Having time away from him had cleared your head. Allowed you to see his side of things. Maybe it was time to give him some room to breathe. To let him process everything on his own. After all, you were just the nanny...

–

“Dad!” Three voices shouted in unison when the door opened. Ditching their place at the table as Jensen stumbled in with a wide smile on his face. Each kid got a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

When they tried to talk over each other, he slowed them down, gently with a, “One at a time.” And, miraculously? It worked. He was informed of everything he'd already had reported to him. Only this time? In child perspective. Which made it dramatic. Completely over the top. Just the way he liked it.

A nod your way was all you received as you slipped past the scene; lifting his bag for him so that no one tripped over it. Including the bumbling dog that was trying to get a kiss in, himself. Oscar had missed his human while he'd been gone.

The dog had been with Danneel's brother during her last pregnancy. She'd been too sick to handle the energetic buffoon while Jensen had been away, filming the show. Gino had fallen in love with the pup. Keeping him...until he thought Jensen needed him more. Returning him back to the Ackles' home solemnly. Oscar had, once again, latched back onto the head of the house with a fierce loyalty that most wouldn't expect from a fluffed up mixed breed. The affection was mutual. Jensen's hand stilled the squirming beast with a simple pet to the top of his curled head as you left the chaos.

Jensen's room was clean. A feat that wouldn't last long once he started unpacking. Bed made up, clothes lined nice and neat, with just a hint of his cologne still lingering in the air from before he'd left. You dropped the duffle on the mattress and turned away. Only to catch sight of the image beside his pillow. It held the dogs, his wife, and the kids all surrounding him. Everything he loved in one picture. His family.

Slowly, you slid the door shut and returned back to the reunion, “Dinner's ready if you're hungry.” You smiled softly at the way he ensured each kid knew that they were loved before climbing back up to his feet. Lumbering after you to get the food while it was still hot.

“Spaghetti,” The actor rumbled in excitement, sniffing the air as he approached the table. His lips smacked hungrily. He was a sucker for a pasta with a good meat sauce. “The wardrobe ladies are gonna be mad at me, later, but I'm piling it up.” He hadn't exaggerated. The flight had left him hungry. “God, this is good.” Came the Dean-like groan as he chowed down. Forgetting that he didn't have to eat like a man who had lived off of nothing more than pizza and beer.

“Dad!” The tiny, disapproving tone left J.J with ease. “You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full.”

He gulped down the food, and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, J-bird.”

“It's okay. Just try to remember,” The words were so Danneel that you couldn't help but to smile gently at them. She was going to be trouble as she continued to age. But, you had faith she'd be pretty great in the end. Hell, they all would if the night was any indication.

If he was upset about the show ending, he didn't show it. Even after the kids retired for the night and he helped clean up, he didn't say a word. The only thing you got was a pat on the back and a low “goodnight” that made your skin prickle before you returned your own.

Part Four

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord @smoothdogsgirl @ima-be-a-mongoose @briagallen

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @malfoysqueen14 @michealneedssomemilk

218 notes · View notes

cynicalkairos · 6 years ago

Text

Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting

CHAPTER FOUR

Word Count: 3178 (i’m sorry in advance)

Warnings: Language, Yelling, Angst, Mentions of Painkillers

Summary: Emma helps Henry deal with his emotional, mental, and physical devastation and work through it.

A/N: Wow, okay. And I said the last one was long. Anyway, I apologize in advance if Ted or Henry seem ooc, but, again, this is how I perceive them dealing with emotions and sadness.

Previous || Next

“Fucking piece of shit!” The sound of glass breaking resounded into the hallway. “How the fuck can someone make a pair of fucking tongs flammable?”

When Emma heard these loud exclamations of profanity, she sprinted to the lab, fearing that something horrible could have happened. She found Henry standing in the middle of glass shards and spilled liquid, cradling his hand in pain. She stepped carefully around the glass and examined the mess, asking, “Professor? Are you okay?”

“What kind of fucking question is that?” Henry asked through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched together tightly and the wince in his eyes disclosed the extent of his pain.

“Just calm down. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! The shitty mechanics in my hand cause a fucking firework show every time it moves.”

Emma held out her hand and placed a hand on his wrist gently, trying to appease him. “Can I take a look?”

Henry looked up at her and sighed after a moment, averting his eyes back to the ground. “Yes, fine, whatever. As long as you don’t make it hurt a shit ton more.”

Emma nodded absently and brought it closer to her. After looking through the many survival books that Henry had, they found a book about medical care with limited resources. They managed to figure out that the bone in Henry’s hand and pinky was, in fact, broken and required a cast. One cast and a splint later, the only thing left to do was hope for the best for proper healing without medical professionals treating the injuries. The cast was made of paper mache and made rather crudely, while the splint was just a couple leftover popsicle sticks and some tape.

The cast, despite all the gloom and despair that permeated from the professor, was signed by the various occupants of the house, wishing the best of luck for recovery or taking up spaces by doodles. Charlotte wrote down the routine for taking the pain medication for Henry to serve as a reminder for the professor. Emma wrote a note, reassuring him that everything would be fine and whatnot. Bill wrote down some inspirational quotes from musicals that he knew Henry would appreciate. Alice drew a pretty drawing with flowers and butterflies. Paul just wrote his name with a small smiley face.

Even though the people around him tried to alleviate the sadness within him after his fight with Ted, the hole of blank space left a void where he knew Ted’s name would be. Henry tried focusing on the positives like the rest of the drawings on his cast or what Ted would write on his cast, but every time he thought about it resulted in him thinking about the fight and what he said.

Emma saw nothing unusual with the professor’s injuries and carefully let go of his hand. “Did you take any painkillers?”

“I took some on Tuesday.”

“Professor, it’s Thursday.”

“Ah, that must be why it’s being a little bitch.”

“I’ll go get you some,” Emma assured him and left without staying long enough for him to deny her help. When she returned, she handed him the pills and a glass of water. “Take these. It should help.”

Henry didn’t bother to look up and nodded through clenched teeth, downing the pills and the water effortlessly. His eyes darted back and forth as if he was scrutinizing each shard of glass. He then checked his splint and cast again, dissatisfied with the results. “The painkillers will dissolve soon enough. I need to clean this mess up in the meantime.”

“No, I got it,” she said, stopping him from moving past her by placing her hands on his shoulders. Emma saw how Henry gripped the counter beside him tightly with his good hand and leaned on it to support himself. After seeing this happen before, she recognized one of the professor’s spells of dizziness from exhaustion and steadied him. “You— sit down before you collapse.”

“No, I’ve got to—”

“Professor, please, just take a break.”

Henry looked up at Emma and nodded weakly, walking over to the nearest chair to sit down. On the way, he was mumbling incoherent phrases probably cursing the millennial generation or something of the sort.

As much as it hurt her, the Henry Hidgens sitting there now was different from the man that she thought of as one of her closest friends. This version of him was easily irritable and cursed frequently, traits that never appeared in Henry before or, perhaps, around her. Even though he tended to forget to sleep or eat, Emma noticed that this characteristic was only amplified after the fight. When she would wake up during the night because of various reasons, she often ventured to his lab to check on him. Previously, Henry’s sleep habits rooted in his continuous working, but now, he barely worked. He simply sat in the corner of the room either crying or nursing his hand. Whenever she tried to bring it up to him, Henry would brush it off with a dismissive comment or answer vaguely. Either way, he was in pain, both physically and emotionally.

Emma hated seeing him in this state. The combination of pain, sleep deprivation, and regret took a toll on him in the form of disregard for himself and taking his frustration out on others. Previously, Henry was subtle when expressing or dealing with his frustration, but the only difference now was that he did not hide his annoyance from anyone. He snapped at anyone when he left the confines of his lab, but the other people in the house knew that he never meant any words that he said. If he started to get too out of control, Emma would help him calm down, but even then he would apologize and then retreat to his lab for another long period of time.

They sat in silence as Emma pondered the last week and cleaned up the floor. When she was done, she studied him. Henry sat with his head in his healthy hand, dozing off from the sudden stillness, but every time he was almost fast asleep, he woke up with a jump. This sequence of events happened over and over again until Emma sat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her slowly, his age truly settling in his face. He just looked uncharacteristically… old. The man that she witnessed do graceful leaps into the air with perfect execution looked as if he would fall apart at any second with the softest touch. Henry then took his free hand and placed it on hers, before reassuring her by saying, “I’m fine, my dear. It just hurts.”

“The painkillers haven’t kicked in yet?”

“Yes, but it’s not that,” he said grimly, a bitter smile spreading across his face. “I feel like shit for saying those things to Ted. It was selfish of me to accuse him of not doing anything. In fact, I realized that he performs the most important task out of us all… and willingly as well.”

Emma furrowed her brow, thinking of what that was for a moment. “Really? What’s that?”

The bitterness in his smile morphed into fondness, shifting his glance from her to the wall. “He keeps me sane, Emma.”

“What the hell does that mean?” She asked incredulously. “I practically stopped you from kicking Paul’s ass a couple of days ago when he drank the last of the coffee.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he replied, shaking his head. “Yes, you do a lot for me and you mean a lot to me, my dear. I thank you for that, but… Ted’s effect on me is like a painkiller that works far better than all the fucking morphine in the world combined. All he could do is smile and I forget all of my worries about the potentialities of the apocalypse. In all sincerity, Ted’s one of the reasons I fight to stop the shit that happens out there.”

Emma watched as Henry’s eyes lit up when he talked about him in a way that she hadn’t seen since he talked about him before they were together. He seemed to zone out into the fondness of his memories, but he snapped out of that mindset with a few blinks, before looking at Emma once more.

“And despite how much of a bastard I was toward him, Ted— fuck, I’m so fucking love with him and I hate myself for being such a goddamn fool for not telling him before. I lost him and I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Emma pursed her lips and took in a deep breath. “Well, I know what you’d do.”

“You do?” Henry looked up at her in surprise. “And what would that be?”

“All of this. Exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re sitting here alone when the person you love is out there probably blaming himself for the exact same reasons you are.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Emma said with confidence. ‘For the past week, I’ve watched him empty every bottle of liquor that he can. Now, I know you had a lot of alcohol in this place, so I think you can do that math about his alcohol intake.”

Henry sighed and nodded slowly, running his uninjured hand over his face as an attempt to wipe away the tears. Before he could reason with her, Emma continued, saying, “Don’t you give me any bullshit, Professor, but tell me one thing: why were you fighting in the first place?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I think it’d be good to get out.”

“Well, if you must know,” Henry started, breathing in as he felt the painkillers begin to work.

———

Henry woke up that morning with a jump, startled by a nightmare that disturbed his sleep. He felt the sweat on his forehead and his body and his lungs gasping for air. By this point, he couldn't recall exactly what the nightmare was about, but he knew that it was bad. Most of the time, he could tough through nightmares, but after looking beside him, he knew the rest why.

Ted was not there.

Once the initial shock disappeared, the confusion settled in. Ted never woke up before Henry and even then, left the bed. His lover was the type of person not to leave the confines of the bed unless either Henry was getting up or the world was ending. Finding his bed without Ted caused him to leap out of bed the best he could and rush to get somewhat decent, before heading downstairs.

Henry knew Ted was down there by the smell of the coffee brewing. He followed the scent and found Ted, not only drinking coffee but even making breakfast. This action only piled onto the preexisting confusion. Along with not waking up early, Ted never made breakfast simply because he’s a horrible cook and other people woke before him to do it.

Henry walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee, then walking over to Ted. He pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and leaned against the counter next to the stove.

Ted looked over to him and smiled, reaching over and taking his hand. He gave it a squeeze while saying, “Morning, babe.”

“How’d you sleep?” Henry asked after taking another sip.

Ted shrugged and resumed his cooking. Henry glanced over at the pan and the eggs did not look burned. It looked…almost edible, perhaps good, surprisingly. He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Henry then put his mug down and picked up the spatula next to him, pointing it at Ted. “Who are you? What have you done with my Teddy bear?”

“What the—” Ted said, glancing up at Henry. He then pointed his own spoon at his partner. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

“It’s only a question, love. Answer and everything will be fine.”

Ted slowly turned off the eggs so they didn’t burn and approached Henry, spoon still directed at him. “Make me.”

———

“Woah, Professor,” Emma interrupted him, looking at him with wide eyes. “If you two fucked, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Henry looked like he was experiencing a mixture of horror and amusement and caused Emma to burst out laughing. She watched as the professor turned from pale to a deep red and attempted to formulate a reply.

“Geez,” Emma tried to placate him. “I was just joking.”

Henry rolled his eyes, annoyed but relaxing again. He sighed, before saying, “To address your concern, we didn’t. Get your mind out of the fucking gutter.”

Emma tried her best to stifle back the laughter, but a small chuckle escaped her lips. She couldn’t help it. Anyway, go on.”

Henry nodded and looked back down at his injured hand, playing with the frayed edges once more. He took a deep breath, continuing, “Yes, well, we just had a little fun—”

“That sounds like you fucked, Professor.”

“Okay, we messed around—”

“Still seems like you fucked.”

“Good god, Emma! Stop talking!” Henry snapped, gripping his cast with such strength that he pulled a small chunk of the paper mache out. They both were silent momentarily before he calmed himself down. He mumbled curses at himself for acting in such a way to Emma, while standing up and tossing the piece into the nearest garbage can.

Emma watched him sadly. She wasn’t mad at him or blamed him for yelling at her, but she was certainly shocked that it happened. Then again, Henry, especially now, could be very unpredictable. Emma wasn’t trying to rationalize his uncontrolled anger. She knew that he was trying to do better and he’s in a lot of pain, blaming himself for everything around him. Thinking back, Henry was always like that. Even when he was just her teacher and she was just his student. Before they were friends. Before everything that happened.

Henry returned and sat down, clutching his hand in pain. It hurt and Emma knew that it did, despite the pain medicine taking effect. “I apologize for yelling, Emma. I raised my voice and it was completely uncalled for. I—”

“I know, Professor. It’s fine,” Emma said, placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling him place his on top of hers gingerly. “I know, but you need to talk to him. The guilt, regret, whatever it is— it’s destroying you.”

Henry looked up with wide eyes and paused. He gulped and began toying with the ends again, saying, “I know, but I can’t talk to him.”

“Why?”

“I have reason to believe that he wouldn’t want to see me again after all I said.”

Silence rose again and Emma felt Henry squeeze her hand gently, before putting it on his lap. For the first time in a while, Emma noticed how truly tired he was. The darkness under his eyes appeared darker and emphasized the shadow of his eyes. His cheekbones and jawline were more prominent, but not in a healthy way. The lines on his face seemed deeper than usual, especially the one around the grimace forming on his lips. Based on his appearance, she knew that one thing was for certain, despite how sad or depressing it was: Henry Hidgens had given up.

She didn’t know what exactly, but the drive and the passion that he once had disappeared. Emma remembered the times when she all but dragged him out of the lab to eat or sleep and the times when she would go to check on him and not find him in there but with Ted watching a movie on the couch. Regardless of where that drive was or what it was aimed at, the idea remained simply that, at this particular moment, Henry had no reason to do anything without Ted.

“Professor, what makes you say that?”

“I might have…run into Ted once.”

Emma, who was currently focused on a piece of glass that she neglected to pick up on the floor, sprang up and looked at him with wide eyes. “Hold the fuck up. What?”

“You heard me,” he replied dejectedly, averting his gaze to anywhere but where she was.

“Are you serious? Did you talk to him?” Emma asked, only for Henry to respond by opening his mouth to speak, shutting it, and then finally shaking his head. “Well, what happened?”

Henry hesitated for a moment, before saying, “It was the day after the fight happened. I was going to get some more medication from the kitchen when I saw him in the living room, retrieving alcohol. To put it simply, I froze. I wanted to go talk to him, apologize to him, make everything right again, but I couldn’t. Something was holding me back. Looking back on it, it was the dread that Ted would break up with me and never talk to me ever again, which quite frankly is impossible due to the status of the world right now.

“Anyway, I figured that if I was fast enough, I could get the medication and tried to move as quickly as I could. On my way to the kitchen, I accidentally slammed my bad hand into the cabinet door, making a loud noise and a lot of pain on my part. Ted turned around and looked at me. It felt like forever that we were just standing there, looking at each other. Then he picked up the alcohol and ran back upstairs.”

Henry looked at Emma and put his hands in his lap, sighing. “Before you get on my ass about not talking to him, I couldn’t face the fact that he could reject me. If I marched up to him at that moment, I don’t know what I would’ve said. I could have made the situation worse for all I know. I’ve never had a good reputation with…emotions and relationships, so processing our fight was something that deprived me of sleep, stalled my experiments, and halted my life at the same time. All I wanted to do at that moment was kiss him until both of us forgot everything, tell him how much I love him, and ask for his forgiveness. But, by the way, he looked at me, I think he was in the right state of mind for any of that either.”

The tears began to stream down his face again and he quickly apologized, before standing up and leaving the room hurriedly. Emma wanted to follow him, but she just watched him leave, knowing that he needed some time to think.

Once he left the room, their conversation solidified to Emma that Henry was spiraling downward at a rapid rate and it wasn’t going to be long before he made a rash decision and her fears would come true. At this point, the only person that could prevent him from doing anything irrational was Ted and, even then, Emma dreaded the possibility that Henry was too far gone.

———

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed reading this. I probably edited this chapter maybe three to five times. I just like making Henry suffer a bit.

Also, I know I had to cut the backstory about the initiation of the fight short in the story, but I’ll just tell you the rest for fun.

So basically, they stop play fighting making out and they have breakfast. Then when Henry went down to the lab, he saw that his specimen that he went out and retrieved earlier was gone. He found it in the trash can in an unsalvagable state and knew it was Ted’s doing. Henry then confronted Ted about it and things escalated from there.

#tedgens #professor hidgens x ted #henry hidgens #ted richards #professor hidgens #emma perkins #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #starkid #snaff tedgens

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cherubsoda · 6 years ago

Note

!!!!! 38 for Medic and/or 41 for Dante! [DC] (I'm not even putting this on anon why am I leaving my signature lmao)

ok so i went ham for no reason @dizzycoyote i apologize,,, this was supposed to be a doodle yikes,, also i wrote a fat fic for it so ,, its like my first time writing a real fic? sucks fr bro

hruggnn tagging @tibbygetsrekt, @sundewsunset and @heartstringsymphoniesbc i am,,, gay

under the cut

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1HakfW2av-gRiemn39g8cVh8wKG8cFOXVH6u-mo9OF28/edit?usp=sharing

Medic 38: reunited/ “haven’t seen you in a while”

I shake my head, finding myself spacing out again. A few more transfers and I’ll be there… I have time to think. Old thoughts started resurfacing, things I haven’t thought of in months. How was he? I would give anything to hear from him again - to see him again. I don’t think we would need to speak; being next to each other again would be enough. ‘I wondered if he’s ever thought about me…’ I shifted to get comfortable.

‘I’ll just rest my eyes’,

I can remember what it was like before you left,

———

“- a job where they’ll let me practice what I please!”

My eyes shifted up from my plate to look at you — you’re practically ready to spring up on your feet, excitement evident on your face and in your voice, I smiled,

“That sounds perfect for you! When do you start?”

I saw the curl of your lips twitch and the corner of your eyes crinkle,

“Ah, in a couple of months — the beginning of spring — I begin a ‘test trial’ at this…establishment. Bah, there is just so much to prepare…” you trailed off and turned your gaze upon a suddenly interesting looking glass. I tilted my head a bit and raised my hand to catch your gaze again,

“I’ll help you pack or plan- whatever you need, I’ll do it with you!”

I smiled when I stumbled over my words, hoping that it did enough to distract you from seeing the sadness on my face or hear the hurt that I felt. I seemed to forget my woes for a moment when you smiled up at me again,

“Thank you, my friend”

———

We began packing a couple days later — I came over early and we packed away the trinkets you couldn’t bear to part with and we laughed while boxing the ones to give away. I wonder if you still have them. Minutes turned to hours and morning turned to midday. I looked at the clock hanging on your wall: 4:37. We agreed that we’ve done enough for today and went to a diner a few blocks away. The meal was quiet, a few comments here and there, but you were quiet. I couldn’t help but wonder what you were feeling. ’Probably just tired from all the packing … or maybe he’s actually upset that I called that ceramic piece was ugly … maybe he’s just as sad that he has to leave-‘. I downed the rest of my water.

You drove me home, walked me to the door and said good night. You didn’t leave until I waved out my window.

———

I plopped down on one of the armchairs you were taking,

“I think it’s time for a break,”

A month passed and the majority of your things were packed and ready to be shipped off.

“I think we’re both stressed from all, this” I gestured to the boxes stacked around us. It’s been on my mind for a while, “Let’s visit some of your favorite places before you leave” I suggested “make some new memories to take with you.” You straighten your back and let out a sigh,

“I suppose you’re right about a break,” you massaged the bridge of your nose,“but what place did you have in mind?” you looked at my slumped over form,

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

I sat up straight and watched you reminisce.

———

We went to the museums you promised you’d visit one day, walked through the gardens in the heart of Stuttgart, you got me drunk at your favorite bar, watched plays you never thought you’d see, and we sat in parks you had played at when you were younger. I listened as you rambled on about what changed and what stayed the same — I stood aside when you ran into an old classmate — when they introduced their wife and daughter to you, I smiled and looked away.

———

Your departure inched closer and closer. I think you could sense my desperation, my fear — but you never said anything if you did. You promised to call or write to me when you had the time. You reassured me that you’d visit during holidays and would keep me in your thoughts all the time. You walked me to my door and waited for me to wave. But you didn’t say goodnight.

Just a couple more weeks until you leave.

You spent a week with your family.

Just about a week left until you leave.

You came home exhausted.

Just a few more days until you leave.

“Did you get to see and do everything on your list?”

We sat on a park bench, the cool winter air sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to look at you, a bittersweet smile adorned your lips paired with a wistful look clouded your eyes — I wondered what you were feeling, maybe for too long; your mouth moved but I couldn’t hear you, as you grabbed my hands and led me back to your car. We drove, and we parked, then you finally turned to me and spoke,

“We’re here,” voice low and soft, I peered out my window and saw my porch, my door, my house…

You opened the car door and led me up the steps, my gloved fingers fumbled with my keys, I finally managed to find the right key and push the door open. We’re greeted by Archimedes’ enthusiastic chirps.

“I think they’ll miss you the most,” I giggled, walking over and opening the cage. The white dove happily hopped onto my finger and made its way up on my shoulder,

You let out a soft chuckled as he flew to your shoulder instead, “Do you really think so?” you asked while petting his side.

“They were always very fond of you…” arms crossed, head slightly tilted. I smiled “Take him with you.”

Your eyes quickly found mine across the room, staring at me; a confused, worried look flashed across your face.

“What are you talking about?” it seemed like Archimedes was looking at me the same way you did,

“Please, take him. He always liked you better,” I teased, pacing a bit “besides, it’s the least I can give you as a — a going away gift.” I tried to smile, my voice cracked and I wish you didn’t hear it.

You sent me a bittersweet smile from where you stood,

“My friend, will you miss me?” you asked as if you were waiting your whole life to get it out. I let out a sob. Of course I will.

———

That night, you drove. Parked. Led me up the steps. You walked inside with me. You didn’t wait for me to stand by my window and wave, so, I cried. I cried and you held onto me and spoke in hushed tones and made promises I wish you had kept. You stayed the night because this time you’d be saying goodbye instead of goodnight.

———

My mind was blank but racing at the same time. Archimedes’ made no noise in his cage — I promised I’d see him off, so I called a taxi and drove to the train station. The ride was brief but gave me time to think: I wanted to apologize for that night; how awful I must’ve made him feel. I paid the fare and waited for you to arrive.

You pulled up in a similar taxi and I helped you with your luggage. I gently put the dove on a bench and we stood there watching trains that weren’t yours rush by.

Everything that I wanted to say couldn’t wait any longer but there will never be a perfect moment to tell. I will never be brave enough. I’m grateful it’s winter; to excuse my shaking shoulders and hands; grateful that the trains blew my hair every which way to cover my warming face; grateful that the cold, nipping air stopped oncoming tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me,”

I glanced up at you, you were watching as people trickled out of the train,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“That you were going to miss me — that you were this upset,” you cut me off.

I gaped but closed my mouth. How selfish of me to try admit that I’d miss my one friend here.

“I’m sorry,” I shook and mumbled out in the cold air “I’m sorry for getting so worked up that night. I just — I’ll miss you I didn’t want to say it because…” I don’t think you could hear me or cared. I bit my lip.

How selfish would I be if I said I loved him so much I felt like I was being torn apart?

“Do not miss me.”

My eyes snapped up, this time you were looking at me, a smile in your eyes,

“You make it sound like I’m dying!” you laughed, a real laugh. “I will always be a phone call away, my friend, remember that,” and your smile widened as you put a gloved hand on my shoulder. I let out a choked sob and you held me.

I wish I had said I loved you, that you had leaned in so I could meet you half way. But how could I confess when I knew this was your dream? That I was the reason you got held back-, I cut my thoughts off when your train arrived; I shifted my weight. I passed Archimedes over to you with care — I suppose it was a foolish dream of mine to be with you. This time I waited until you were inside. You stood by the window and you smiled and waved. I finally said goodbye.

———

I wake up with a sudden jolt. I look around and ran a hand down my face

‘I dozed off… I must’ve been exhausted.’

After a couple more stops, a ‘ding’ signified I’m at my stop and brought me out of my sleepy daze. I quickly gathered my belongings and trudged out the train station. I checked my watch for the time; 9:17am, ‘hopefully I make it in time’. I take a taxi to another nearby town, some place that seems more desolate, more… rustic I suppose. ‘They should be here any second now.’ I look around at the stores nearby, when something bumped into my shoulder. I jumped, throwing my hands up and taking a few steps back; white feathers clouded half of my vision. I gingerly put a pair of fingers under its feet and turned to face it, hoping it doesn’t attack again. The bird - dove - begins crooning, pecking at my hair,

“Archimedes?” ”Archimedes!” a distant yell overlapped my voice, other voices followed but were drowned out by the approaching man’s voice,

“There you are Archimedes! You shouldn’t fly off like that!” he scolds, “Ah haa, so sorry about-” his sheepish smile drops as he makes eye contact with me,

“Ludwig…?” I let out a surprised laugh, “Wha-“

“Schatz, what are you doing here?!” He takes a step back and quickly looks at me, he shifts around a bit, unsure what to say, “Why - How —“

I couldn’t help but stare. How long has it been since I’ve seen him? His hair is greying much more than before, his cheeks sunken in a bit more, the worry creases on his brow deepened, but he - he’s stayed the same. What about me? I must look like a mess - freshly woken up after a who knows how long train ride, my hair unbrushed and —

“Lay, you’re crying,” his accented voice gently pulled me away from my thoughts; I haven’t heard my name used so tenderly in years. I didn’t realized that he had slightly bent down to look at me. My tears ran freely. I let him wipe them away and took in a deep breath. I let my forehead rest against his cheek, while he held my hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He gently nuzzled his cheek against my hair and placed a kiss on the crown of my head; letting out a soft laugh that shook his chest when slid my hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. He finally leaned in and I met him half way. I closed my eyes and I can remember what it was like before you left.

#self shipping #tf2 #self ship #self insert #medic #cowboybenoit #anyways...that was gay #dizzycoyote #s: the way to a man's heart #my writing #sadly...#shits and doodles #thank you for the ask!! sorry it took so long its... 440 in hawaii i wanted to finish this fic before bed but so yeah #shifty eyes please dont shame me in my own home ajsjdj #ugh this is literally my first fic #is this the au where i give medic archimedes instead? yes #the sad au is that we'll never see each other again and hes just like 'ah yes my fondness of doves stems from an old friend of mine'#yikes!!#what am i during in germany you ask? well... *runs out of this ask*

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magioftheseas · 6 years ago

Text

Bubbling and Baking

KamuKoma Week Day 6: family & marriage (?)

Summary: Kamukura pays a visit to when Komaeda is raising Monaka post-drae/udg. Monaka is predictably difficult but Komaeda, as per usual, is more concerned with the larger scope.

Rating: G

Warnings: Monaka being on the harsher side, references to child abuse, mental instability and questionable motives in doing the things he does because it’s Despair!Komaeda but like, all in all, not...much, I don’t think?

Notes: I haven’t written nearly enough stuff with Komaeda and his rotten daughter and I’m sorry for that. So here’s some + Kamukura between the events of drae and sdr2/dr3. Still alternate canon because like, obviously, but yeah. Here it is. This was fun to write, especially the titular baking for some weird reason. I hope you like it.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

That strange creep looks like Sadako.

That’s her first impression of the one who called himself Kamukura Izuru. She can’t say she’s terribly impressed. Servant was passed out on the futon, having worked himself into one of those annoying frenzies. And now, there’s a stranger here, and Monaka has no idea where he came from.

Truth be told, she doesn’t really care. If it’s a ghost here to kill both of them, that’s not much of a loss. He notices her staring at him. He stares at her, eyes boring and cold. It’s like being stared at by a doll, and this doesn’t really bother her either. She’s seen this same dumb expression in the mirror countless times. She imagined she inherited it from the useless woman who birthed her.

Except. Those glowing red eyes flicker when Servant murmurs something incoherent in his sleep. Servant grins like an idiot, and if dragging herself over wasn’t such a hassle, Monaka would definitely doodle on his face. Instead, she just stares at him with open annoyance.

“I see.” She only perks because Sadako has spoken, and it’s a low, cool voice. It prickles at her. “So he took you in after all, Towa Monaka. How boring.”

“What’s it to you, stalker?” she snaps. “Are you one of Junko-nee-chan’s cronies?”

He’s lacking the helmet, though, so...a remnant?

“Incorrect.” Quick and curt. Monaka’s frown deepened as he only drew closer to the snoozing Servant. She blinked as he wipes away a disgusting line of drool. “My association with them is incidental, with Nagito being the sole exception.”

“Uh. Huh.”

Gross. Utterly gross.

Servant groans, and then he twitches, face pinching up. His eyes flutter open, and Monaka doesn’t want to think about what’s running through that guy’s head when he sees the creepy not-Sadako looming over him.

“Kamukura-kun?”

She recognized that name. Of course she did. She didn’t let that show on her face, instead watching blankly as Servant latched onto him, arms looping around his neck. The chain rustles and clinks together, and Servant squeezes the other happily.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you! I had heard you were nearby, of course, but still...! Oh!” He pulls away and gives Monaka that sickening grin. “Monaka-chan, this is Kamukura Izuru-kun.”

“Yes,” she said, nose scrunched up. “I’m aware. He looks like dried, disgusting, dirty seaweed.”

“Oh, she’s right, Kamukura-kun, you’re looking a little dirty.” Servant frowns, clicking his tongue as he grabbed a handful of the inky black locks. “Have you been swimming? Ah, we don’t have much water, but...”

“I can provide more,” Kamukura replied. “It is of no concern. I shall not deplete your resources.”

“He can’t use any of Monaka’s special Monokuma units,” she hurriedly spoke up, gritting her teeth. “He can do everything himself.”

“So uncharitable, Monaka-chan!” Servant laughed. He did not—and never really had—scold her. “That’s a little despairing.”

Urgh. So gross.

“It is of no concern,” Kamukura said simply. He didn’t look the slightest bit annoyed or bothered, just more of that abysmal vacancy. It was really starting to grate. “I only intended to announce my arrival. You may go back to sleep if you wish.”

“I feel too sick to sleep,” she spat.

“Oh, dear,” Servant looked worried. “Shall I fetch you medicine then? It would do no good if you got sick and died before accomplishing anything worthwhile, Monaka-chan.”

“Shut the hell up, like I’d really die from nausea. Unless I decided to drown in my vomit or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I can try to sleep. Just talking to you is exhausting, after all.”

“That’s the spirit!”

This guy—really is a piece of work.

And the way Kamukura Izuru looked at Servant, smiling without a care, with that weirdly intense crimson gaze.

Urgh. This isn’t despair. It’s just disgusting.

It really was rather strange having Kamukura around, but Komaeda couldn’t complain. Kamukura tended to make things easier. Even when he remained passive and avoidant, Komaeda found his presence reassuring, in a sense. While he knew better than to have high expectations of the other at this stage, he supposed he still found that company pleasant, at least.

He was almost excited to have Kamukura here, witnessing what was sure to be his greatest efforts in raising the successor and hopefully usurper of Ultimate Despair. It was a tedious and difficult process, of course, especially with Monaka’s growing disdain. But Monaka was still here, wasn’t she? She hadn’t given up yet.

So he couldn’t dare dream of losing faith in her.

However she was very clearly and very quickly losing patience with him.

“I don’t waaaaant to!” she practically wailed. “I’m sick! Tired! Sick and tired! I don’t want another lesson, I want cake and a break!”

“I know lectures aren’t terribly exciting, Monaka-chan, but this actually is important to know,” he can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you want to be able to take care of yourself when the situation calls for it?”

“I’m crippled,” she snapped, unimpressed. “Don’t you understand what that means?” Her expression shifts into that fake innocence she wore so casually before. She blinks her big eyes at him, and speaks slowly as if to help him understand. “If Monaka finds herself in a dangerous situation... She’ll just be killed. Because she can’t run away.”

“That’s such a despairing way to think.” He tutted at her. “And not in a productive way. You’re very gifted with robotics, Monaka-chan. Technology is capable of many incredible things.”

“I had myself checked, you know,” she huffed. “The issue isn’t with my legs but my spine. Even with prosthetics, I won’t be able to walk.”

He does remember that. He remembers being impressed with Monaka’s ability to build it. She had muttered something about canceled plans, but had scowled when he prodded.

“I see. That’s a shame. It’s most unfortunate. But...”

“I shouldn’t let that stop me?” Her brows raise. “Really?”

“Really,” he repeated sincerely.

“You’re awful. You’re almost worse than the Towas.” She shakes her head, pressing buttons to make her chair turn from him. “I’ve decided I don’t want to talk or listen to you anymore.”

“I guess we can take a break,” he says lightly, breezily. “But I think first aid is still something you should know about, Monaka-chan.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to go bother? Leave me alone.”

He hit a brick wall for the time being, but he saw the twitch in Monaka’s pointed frown and puffy cheeks. So he kept smiling and nodded before waving her off. She does not wave back.

What a difficult child, but...

“She’s very brilliant, even if her attitude could use adjustments,” he finds himself saying. “That said, it’s understandable, isn’t it? She hasn’t exactly lived the kindest life. Not that I quite understand what she must be going through.” His laugh, then, is a self-deprecating one. “I barely knew my own parents.”

“Are you really serious about raising that girl?” Kamukura asks, and he is sewing up a blanket that Monaka ripped during one of her temper tantrums. Komaeda, fixated on the elegant motions of his fingers, hummed at the words.

“Of course I am. Out of all of those children, Monaka-chan was the closest to her. And Komaru-san has already deviated from the path.” What a disappointment that had been. Not that he cares much anymore. “Admittedly while I am confident in my knowledge about her...”

Taking care of a child is...quite the undertaking.

“Monaka-chan is intelligent enough to be self-sufficient,” he recalls. “But she is still a child. And it will take years of maturation before she’s an adult worthy to take that wretched girl’s place.”

“Do you really think this state of the world will last however many years it takes?” Kamukura asked, not looking at him. “What a boring thought. It will not be the case. Not with her influence waning.” A pause. “Unless you think she will reap despair anew. The effect will be hindered either way. So boring.”

“Ahahaha, leave it to Kamukura-kun to be a buzzkill,” he chirped, unperturbed. “If her despair is great enough, nothing else will matter.”

“So single-minded and short-sighted as always.” Kamukura bites the thread, and he finishes up. The stitching is perfect, as expected. “Well it is not like I predicted any different.”

“You just like to scold me.” Komaeda puffed his cheeks out in a manner akin to Monaka. “You have a childish sense of humor.”

“Hmph.” Kamukura glanced at him, expression smoothed over. “I only remain here out of boredom. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Sure, sure.”

You’re always saying that. I’m not so naïve to doubt it.

“I’m tired! I’m hungry! I want Mont Blanc!”

“You could have the Monokuma units prepare it, then. Unless...?”

“I don’t want to eat something prepared by a robot!” Monaka’s lower lip jutted out further. “Homemade is better.”

“I understand,” he chirped, even though he didn’t. “Alright, then.”

Monaka tended to make a lot of unreasonable requests when she was upset. It was always best to just cater and move on, even when she inevitably got more upset with his subpar results. He didn’t really mind. Kotoko had taken to disappointment better, but this was simply to be expected when dealing with a child.

He really doesn’t mind, even when he still finds himself at a complete loss in the kitchen.

“Okay, so...pinecones, right...?”

“You have it wrong.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t really mind Kamukura’s sudden intervention, either.

“Why do you take on tasks that you know you are unsuited for?” Kamukura looks at him blankly. “It is irrational.”

“If you’re asked to do something, you should do it even if you’re no good at it,” Komaeda hummed, taking the alcohol. Kamukura smacks it from his hand. It clangs, but thankfully doesn’t break. “Aha! So harsh!”

That actually does annoy me a little.

“You are hopeless in this skillset. You should have requested my assistance.”

“She said she didn’t want something prepared by a robot,” Komaeda pointed out kindly.

“I am not a robot. I was made in a lab, yes, but I am of flesh and blood.” Kamukura doesn’t seem the slightest bit offended, for what it was worth. “If you are left to this task, the results will be disastrous.”

“Aww, you really think so?”

“I do not think. I know.”

“Oh.” He steps aside, smile wide. “Then, by all means. You can help. I would prefer handling it on my own, but since you insist...”

Kamukura is already grabbing and measuring the ingredients. Komaeda pauses as he sweetens the pre-peeled chestnuts. For whatever reason, the image strikes him as strangely ironic.

Without looking at him, Kamukura dumps them in the saucepan among others.

“Watch carefully,” He says lowly. “This is how you make the cream.”

The cream, huh. Ah. How very strange. This feels almost—domestic.

“Monaka-chan has quite the sweet tooth, so maybe add more sugar?” Komaeda grabs without thinking. “Here you are.”

“That’s salt.”

“Oh.” He blinks down at it before setting it back aside. “So it is.”

“Hopeless,” Kamukura repeated. Komaeda bumped him with his shoulder, and he wasn’t the slightest bit moved. “We will have to make muffins as well.”

“Mm.” He watches Kamukura flick on the oven. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re focused,” he explained, smile twisting. “You definitely have that house husband look. Ehehe. It’s attractive.”

Kamukura just blinks at him.

“At last that’s how it feels,” Komaeda rambled on, flustering a little. “Maybe I’m just imagining it.”

“We are cooking for a child, I suppose that is akin to a family unit,” Kamukura murmured. “However, that child is not one you feel paternal towards.”

Komaeda stills, mulling that over, thinking of Monaka’s puffy face.

“...my parents were rather absent,” he finds himself saying. “Monaka-chan’s father was neglectful. I wonder if either of us even know what being part of a family was like.”

“I lack the experience as well, but studies show that this is similar enough,” Kamukura removes the saucepan, letting it cool before pouring it into the blender. “Well, this is but a fleeting experience.”

“I suppose that’s true...”

Why does that irritate me?

“It’s nice.” Komaeda swallowed. The machine whirled. “It’s definitely nice.” Once finished, Kamukura stores the cream so that it can chill. Komaeda feels too anxious to just sit still so he hurriedly moves. “I’ll get the batter for the muffins.”

Kamukura’s gaze is intense on his back. He wonders if that’s really just because the other is making sure what he grabs is correct.

It’s true that my only intention is to create an Ultimate Despair that surpasses her.

It takes him a few times, but he finds it. Kamukura quickly takes over from there.

That once Monaka-chan becomes that Ultimate Despair, from there I expect a true radiant hope to appear.

Komaeda watches as Kamukura mixes, putting that Ultimate Pastry Chef talent to good use.

And once that happens...

Kamukura pours them in the cups. And he puts them in the oven.

Once that happens...

There’s a sweet smell in the air. It’s rather warm, and yet, Komaeda’s arms wrap around himself tightly.

What will become of Monaka-chan then, exactly?

He thinks of how she died. With a disgusting, satisfied smile. He never wants to see despair look so happy ever again.

But the idea of Monaka forlorn and miserable—he doesn’t think he wants that, either.

She can be redeemed, a voice reminds him in the back of his mind. But then, that wouldn’t make her Ultimate Despair, would it? What good can be found in despair as anything other than a stepping stone?

Kamukura mixes whipping cream and sugar, and he’s just not sure.

I suppose—it would be better to just sit back and see how things turn out. Because hope will win in the end, I can relax. I can just...relax.

“You are tense, Nagito.”

He flinches, even though Kamukura’s tone is soft and more of a low murmur.

“I... It’s really nothing.” He wonders why it is that he has such difficulty relaxing now with these thoughts swirling in his mind—when before it hadn’t been nearly as difficult. “Mm. I guess if you’re done with that. All we can do is wait for the muffins to bake among...other things. I suppose.”

“You suppose correctly,” Kamukura answered simply. He meets his gaze. “Once muffins are baked, you may alert her.”

“Alright.” Until then... Until then... “Kamukura-kun, she’s probably going to want more pastries, so...would you mind staying around for a while?”

“I suppose I can.”

Kamukura doesn’t even miss a beat. Komaeda wonders why, but he’s gracious all the same.

“Thank you.”

For whatever reason—I want things to remain for a little while longer.

And afterwards, when Monaka seemed to enjoy the Mont Blanc so much that she was annoyed by it, Komaeda felt his smile widen.

Just a while longer.

“This is so sweet it makes me sick,” she grumbles. “But you two are worse. Quit looking at Komae—Servant-nii-san like that. Creep.”

Kamukura does look away when he glances over, confused.

“Even if you two are a lovey-dovey couple, I don’t want to see it,” Monaka griped.

Lovey-dovey... Like parents...? Ah, no, just what am I thinking? I’m already being so overindulgent.

Komaeda idly grips his wrist, where the bandages were. He thinks about the hideous stitching, and how that could possibly compare to his and Kamukura Izuru’s relationship.

It’s for a hopeful future...nothing more. Nothing less. Still.

His eyes fell shut.

I hope we can all be happy. Something like that.

#KamuKoma #izuru kamukura #nagito komaeda #monaca towa #monaka towa #Magi fics #sdr2 spoilers #drae spoilers #hhhhhhhhh #Also Monaka is stated to be physically disabled in this fic and she's not happy about it #I like retaining that part of her character even if I'm inconsistent with how I handle it #Sorry about that

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