#(side note it always bothers me that the wrong hands are shown before they get struck so thats how i drew it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyorina · 2 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 ALL THINGS END

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: all of dazai's carefully calculated plans come to an abrupt halt when you run into him at a club. he thinks fate is a funny thing, that despite all of his desperate attempts to stay away from you, it still leads you right to him. one night, he decides, is all he'll allow. one night of indulgence, and then things will go back to how they were. that's how it has to be to keep you safe. {wordcount: 11.8k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: wow we're starting side b—side b can be read separately from side a but you’ll get some neat references if you read both (｡♡ ‿ ♡｡). i'm so nervous actually HAHAH i put my heart and soul into side b and trying to characterize beast!dazai properly. it was really hard because the majority of the fic is from his pov and getting into his mind is a lotttt harder than canonzai imo. anyway, reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book, it's going to be a common theme throughout the series so i'll leave the heads up now. + as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai Osamu thinks that his touch might be noxious, indiscriminately rotting all he comes in contact with until only putrid remains are left of what had once been lively souls. His gaze drags across his fingers from where they’re splayed on top of the table, absently tapping out a familiar name over and over again, the only thing grounding him to the meeting taking place around him in one of the second-floor VIP rooms of the Port Mafia’s most elite nightclub. If he looks hard enough, he swears he can see that the tips of his fingers are blackened, ready to lay the curse of decay upon the next person he brushes them against.

He can feel eyes on him—the impatient glares from the foreign emissaries and the tense stares of his executives, as they wait for him to respond to the offer, laid out to him by the top brass of the Russian kingpin called Nabokov, an old ally of the Port Mafia courtesy of the previous boss. Dazai was already annoyed coming into this meeting, thinking that the Russians were presumptuous for assuming that the Port Mafia should come to their defense in the three-way territorial war going on in their motherland, but the fact that Nabokov couldn’t even bother to come speak to him himself after Dazai’s executives insisted that he be the one to personally handle this only made him even more bitter and irate. He hates having to leave the headquarters.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette hanging between his lips, lifting his free hand to pull the end from his mouth before putting it out on the table in front of him. The buzz of the nicotine isn’t enough to keep him present anymore. He keeps tapping, steady and controlled, the same bunch of letters again and again—everything around himself feels hazy and blurry. The only thing clear that he can focus on is the uniform drumming of his fingers, his voice doesn’t even sound like his own as he speaks:

“Why should I even entertain your offer when Nabokov couldn’t bring it to me himself?”

The first words that he speaks during the entire meeting are cold and harsh, as they should be in response to the disrespect shown by the Pale Flame, but Dazai just wants to be done with this and return to the base before anything can go wrong. His executives are vaguely pleased by his words, evidently taking more offense to Nabokov’s failure to show than Dazai himself does, and the three emissaries of the Pale Flame bristle, sharing looks as they try to figure out what to say in response to Dazai’s remark. Dazai doesn’t even care to hear what they have to say, lost in his thoughts as he glances up at the ceiling.

He thinks that if his touch isn’t entirely noxious, as there have been a few people who haven’t faced ruin after being exposed to it, then his presence makes up for it in its draining effect. The black hole in his chest is just as indiscriminate as the corroding touch of his fingers, emptying people of hope and exhausting them of energy. A part of Dazai mourns over the fact that those who can survive his touch are drained by the void—(chuuya. atsushi. their names weigh heavy on him, knowing that he’s dragged them so far down with him in this life)—while those who can withstand the void are inevitably killed because of their proximity to him—(you, odasaku, your names ring through his head, cruel and taunting. he pushes away the longing that rips at his chest, as he always does.)

His fate is to be alone, a cruel design drawn out by whatever sadistic gods reign above.

In every universe, it’s proven to be true. Even in this one, he can’t spare people from the effects of his existence. Atsushi, Kyouka, Chuuya—as years have passed their eyes have become dull and their souls have become as black as the blood that he forcibly injected into their veins. He considers whether or not he might just be better off dead, that way he can give those who have been the most affected by him, in this life and all of the others, a much-needed reprieve from him. But he can’t, not when he’s unsure over whether or not those who’ve been condemned by his touch will actually survive if it means he’s gone.

“... okov sends all of his reg…”

The tapping becomes a bit harsher, faster. If he was writing out the name rather than tapping it, the script would be jagged and unclear. His surroundings start to fade out again, Nabokov’s executives are speaking but the words are going in one ear, out the other. His head feels fuzzy and his free hand is starting to go numb.

Odasaku. You. He’s sure that there are plenty of others, but you two are the only ones that matter to him. He doesn’t know if killing himself would mean that the two of you could live out your lives to the fullest. You could both die anyway, for all he knows, and then he would’ve died for nothing and he can’t risk that, not when this is the only universe where he’s aware of the fate that you and Odasaku face in every other world.

He can work to protect the two of you in this world; he’ll do what must be done from the shadows to ensure that you and Odasaku can finally fulfill your dreams. A life without you, and a life without Odasaku, is a small price to pay if it means that you two can actually live out your lives. You’ve granted him enough good memories from every single other universe that the least you guys deserve is one without his presence bringing you ruin.

“... the previous b…”

Sometimes, he longs so badly for a life with the two of you that it makes him sick. A world in which Odasaku lives and Dazai can be with you, a world where he’s untouched by the shadows and the tarry substance corrupting his blood. He thinks that Odasaku would adore you if he’d ever been given the chance to meet you—you both have a similar dry humor and an intrinsic desire to help people, even those who decidedly don’t deserve it. On nights that are a bit too dark and a bit too heavy, Dazai imagines dragging you to Odasaku’s place so he can introduce you to him and he imagines how his face would flame up in embarrassment when Odasaku tells you all of the humiliating stories of Dazai’s youth that he knows the man has stocked up.

Moments like this, when everything feels a bit too far away and his mind can’t connect to the present, lost in the pages of all of the other worlds he’d seen, he swears that he can feel the ghost of your touch running across his skin as you trace patterns along his arms and brush kisses against his jaw. He thinks it’s cruel that his mind tortures him with the unattainable; taunts him with the knowledge that the only person he’s ever entirely given himself to, and was accepted by, is out there waiting for him, but the moment Dazai gives in to the aching in his chest, it’ll be ripped away from him again.

“… disorder in the motherl…”

He can’t feel his left arm, and that awful numbness is starting to spread across his chest to his right arm; with nothing left to consume, the black hole in his chest is devouring him again. Now is not the time, not when his executives are around, and especially not when outsiders are around. He taps more intensely—your name, over and over and over again, the only thing that can ever pull him out of these states. It’s the reminder that you’re out there, alive, and that even if it’s not in this world, you love him in every single other one, no matter how absurd the idea is.

“... will not be contained to…”

He needs to focus. He knows what the Pale Flame emissaries are saying even if Dazai can’t actually hear and process the full conversation—whatever is happening in Russia will spread, and it will spread to Japan, certainly, if Dostoevsky comes out on top. This conflict never occurred in the other universes and Dazai doesn’t know what exactly he did in this one that caused this change. Figuring it out and adapting needs to be his first priority because Dostoevsky’s arrival in Yokohama will put everything he’s built at risk.

It will put you at risk.

How many times have you died at his hand? Too many. Too many for him to risk this.

He was able to handle Odasaku’s fate years ago when he got ahold of that painting and convinced him to join the Armed Detective Agency. Odasaku’s fate was easy in comparison to yours, that painting and the Port Mafia have been the cause of his death, removing them from the equation will be enough to keep him safe until Dazai follows through with the final phase of his plan.

Your fate is always more arbitrary—Fyodor Dostoevsky will be the first trial he has to overcome to ensure your survival and then depending on how things play out after that, Agatha Christie will be the second trial. They’re the two leading causes of your death besides Dazai himself. Once the two of them have been taken care of, Dazai can move on to Phase Three, the beginning of the end.

The darker part of him, the one that has festered and corrupted and spread to every inch of his soul without the light you and Odasaku had brought to him in all of his other lives, wonders if he should have you kidnapped and tucked away until he can make sure that Dostoevsky is six-feet-under and unable to disrupt the world he’s built for you and Odasaku. Unlike Osasaku, you have no ability to protect yourself with if everything starts falling apart. You’ll be the most vulnerable, the most at risk.

But he knows he can’t for the same reason that he knows he’ll never be able to approach you in the same way he did Odasaku so many years before: Dazai has never had any sort of self-control when it comes to you and he doubts it’ll be any different in this universe. Even when he knows you’re better off, even when he knows that each second he spends in your life is slowly destroying you, he can never bring himself to part from you. He fears that even the slightest look of you will condemn him and all of the work he’s done, that even just the knowledge of where you are will tempt him into wandering the area in hopes of running into you.

He’s done everything he can to ensure that he never has any contact with you or any information about your life. He assigned Kouyou to look over you, being the best suited for such types of missions. She’s spent years making sure that you’re safe and nothing from the underground disturbs your studies or everyday life. The woman was naturally curious about the request, even more so when Dazai instructed her to never give him any updates on you unless it was a life-or-death situation, but she knew better than to question him.

At this point, only the hand of god and sheer chance could lead him to you, which is why he’s particularly against meetings like these where he’s forced to leave the shadows of his towers and dally into the public. Dazai doesn’t beg, and he certainly doesn’t pray, but whenever he has to leave the Port Mafia base for extended periods, he gets damn close to it because each moment in the light risks everything.

“... oevsky and Tolstoy…”

The ice spreads to the wrist of his right arm and just as Dazai thinks he’s about to be fully swallowed by the void, his gaze drifts to the window looking down on the main floor of the club and he catches sight of a figure leaning on the bar, and it’s ludicrous, really, because how does his gaze tunnel on one person in the sea of hundreds before him. But his mouth goes dry and his body stills as recognition floods through him, replacing the numbness so quickly that his body is almost palpitating in the sudden shock of it. Flames burn through his veins and the fingers that had been steadily tapping out your name jerk so abruptly that Chuuya, Kouyou, and Gin are all casting him hesitant looks.

He rises to his feet suddenly, ignoring the fact that all eyes are on him and that he’s completely disregarded whatever the Pale Flame emissaries had been explaining. He waves Gin off as the girl instinctively moves to follow him, the room is spinning and closing in on him so swiftly that he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to make it out of the room before his mind and body collapse in on themselves.

If there is a god, Dazai realizes, then he’s abandoned Dazai since the moment he was born, because standing there with glittering eyes and a smile so painstakingly familiar and foreign at the same time is you.

There’s a hazy smile on your face as you stumble out of the main room of the club, and down a side hall toward where you’re pretty sure the restrooms should be. You lean against the wall as you try to regain your bearings, inhaling the air greedily—you hadn’t realized how deprived of it you’d been in the stuffy club, where there were more bodies than pockets of air, and even those were smogged with thick, floral perfume and sweat.

You think you’re having a good night—for the most part, at least. You and your coworkers have been at the club for an hour already celebrating your acceptance into Waseda’s prestigious graduate program. You’d been pressured into inviting one of your more unsavory coworkers, having been told you would seem rude and ill-mannered if you invited everyone else except him. You think now that it really shouldn’t have mattered to you, you’re leaving the office soon to prepare for school anyway, but you suppose you’re easily peer pressured. Sometimes.

But you’re free now, momentarily, at least. One of your friends had distracted Takeda so could sneak off to the restroom to freshen up. God knows he probably would’ve tried to follow you there if he didn’t.

You push yourself off the wall with a sigh, wishing that you’d tied your hair back before coming to the club because you can feel it sticking to the back of your neck. Maybe you’ll run into a girl in the bathroom who has a spare tie for you, but you frown as you look around, noticing that the hallway is a bit too empty for it to lead to one of the club’s restrooms.

You pout when you realize that you must’ve gone down one of the halls leading to the VIP suites on the second level, but as you turn to make your way back into the main area of the club, your eyes catch a figure leaning against the wall dressed in a long black coat and sleek dark suit that probably costs more than your life savings.

He’s tall, you note absently, drawn to the man a bit more than you probably should be for no good reason, handsome, too. He hasn’t noticed you standing there, so you just observe for a moment—he has dark hair and smooth, pale skin, partially covered beneath bandages. He’s struggling to light a cigarette, frustration twisting his face; his lighter won’t light no matter how many times he tries, and you think it’s a bit funny that for all of the expensive clothes he wears, his lighter won’t work.

Finally, you take a few steps forward, moving closer to him and fishing into your purse for your own lighter before you hold it up and ask, “Need a light?”

The man freezes, gaze cutting toward you—his eye is so dark and so empty that it almost chills you, an endless abyss that threatens to consume you. You swear the black is so intense that it seems to be swallowing the dim lighting of the hallway, and you watch as something akin to recognition flashes deep within it. He hardly reacts to your presence otherwise, only his gaze shifts as it roves over you, vaguely reminiscent of a parched man in the desert setting eyes on a distant oasis, unsure if it’s just a figment of his imagination. You raise your eyebrows, feeling a bit exposed underneath his stare, and wave your lighter pointedly.

He doesn’t make a move to reach for your lighter as you hold it out to him. You can’t tell what the expression on his face is as he watches you, it’s entirely indecipherable, his lips are pulled flat but his eye is swimming with emotions that you just can’t quite place. Just as you’re about to take it as rejection and put your lighter back in your purse, he suddenly closes the distance between the two of you, leaning his head down, cigarette dangling between his lips and gaze trained on you, expectant.

Oh, you think to yourself a bit breathlessly, throat spasming as you falter under his gaze. He looks amused, watching you carefully, and you can’t help but notice that the dark pit of his eye starts to lighten as he watches you get flustered. When you struggle to light it the first time, you want to blame it on the martinis you’ve been drinking with your friends, but you know from the way your cheeks feel extra hot and your fingers shake that it’s definitely because of the man standing in front of you.

The scent of his cologne floods your senses, you can almost taste the old whiskey on his warm breath, which you can feel fanning lightly across your fingers, making goosebumps rise to your arms—you pray he doesn’t notice, but from the way his eye flickers up a bit to your arm and the corner of his lip quirks up, you think he probably does.

You thank every god that might be listening when your lighter finally lights, catching the end of his cigarette. Your breath catches as he makes eye contact with you and you think you might be able to get lost in his gaze if you’re not careful; your lips part a bit as if to say something to occupy the silence but no words leave them.

After what feels like eternity, he finally stands straight and you can breathe again, watching as he leans back against the wall next to you, head falling to the side a bit as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.

His gaze doesn’t leave you once.

“You smoke?” He finally speaks, and his voice is low, raspy, and hoarse as if he doesn’t use it much. There’s a lilt to his tone, something caught between subtle criticism and surprise, reminiscent of a disapproving old friend who’s taken aback that you’ve picked up such a bad habit.

“Sometimes, why?” you answer, a bit defensively when you catch the edge to his tone.

You don’t smoke—you carry around your brother’s old lighter as a memento, safekeeping for if he ever decides to come back to you, you’re honestly surprised the thing still works as well as it does—but you feel like you have to prove a point now because he sounds a bit judgmental about it.

He only shrugs lazily. “Don’t look like the type.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is there ‘a type?’” you ask sarcastically.

He pointedly looks over you, gaze raking up and down your body once in a slow, borderline sensual way. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, you curse your body violently for betraying you.

“Yeah,” he drawls after a few moments. “Not you.”

You scoff loudly, looking away, and you blame the alcohol when you find yourself admitting, “… I don’t smoke.”

The man smiles thinly at the three words, a triumphant spark shooting through the brown of his eye and an expression on his face that tells you he somehow knew it without you having to say it out loud but appreciated the confirmation.

“Told you,” he says. “Don’t look the type.”

“Hmph,” is all you respond with, flipping your lighter shut and slipping it back into your purse.

You don’t leave right away; you don’t think you could even if you wanted to, you feel like a deer caught in headlights beneath his gaze, feet glued to the ground. But the problem lies in the fact that you don’t want to leave, there’s something about him that has you drawn in like a moth to flame and you don’t even know why because you don’t even know his name yet. And you probably shouldn’t be, you’ve always had a keen sense of self-preservation and there’s a dangerous edge to this man that should concern you—you can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he dresses, and the way he holds himself.

Dangerous, you think to yourself, but you’re charmed by it—you know you should probably get back to the bar where your friends are, but your feet don’t budge. He’s watching you curiously, not making any move to say anything, just observing you and you feel like you might crumble beneath his gaze. You can’t tell if he’s searching for something or if he’s just looking at you to look at you; the air between the two of you is tense but not in an awkward way. But you decide to break the silence with: “What’s your name?”

He hesitates, gaze narrowing just a bit as if he’s considering whether or not he should tell you, and you feel a bit embarrassed, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you anxiously wait for his response.

“Dazai,” he finally says, and you can’t help but notice he sounds a bit breathless. “Dazai Osamu.”

The name feels so achingly familiar that it almost makes you question whether or not you’ve ever met this man before even though you’re sure that you would remember if you did. You give him your name in return and watch as his lips curve upward slightly as he repeats it out loud, making your chest feel warm and your mind a bit foggy. He says your name as if he’s spoken it dozens of times before, the intimacy of it nearly has you reeling.

It has you reeling so badly that you speak without thinking, longing to drag the conversation out.

“Would you… maybe want to have a drink with me?” The words spill from your lips before you can stop them and instantly, you want to swallow your own tongue, shifting a bit nervously on your feet. Usually, when you drink you’re more outgoing, but with this man, you feel like a teen girl fumbling over words with her school crush.

His lips part to respond but no words leave them, conflict swims in his gaze so flagrantly that it makes you a bit embarrassed, realizing he’s probably trying to figure out the best way to reject you. You notice, distantly, that some other foreign emotion flashes on his face and it’s so brief that you almost miss it, but you swear that it’s something akin to a reality slap from the way his eye widens and lips part a bit.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you wait for the inevitable rejection, he casts a look backward, in the direction of the steps that lead to the second floor’s high-end VIP rooms that only the most elite of Yokohama can afford and you realize that this man is probably a bit more important than you thought if that’s where he came from, throat a bit dry.

You start to try to make up some excuse and rush back to your coworkers with your tail between your legs but then he finally says:

“We can get a drink.”

Your eyes widen a bit, a smile splits across your face. You catch a sour look crossing his face as soon as the words escape him as if he regrets them right as they’re spoken. For a second, it’s almost as if he’s fighting an internal battle, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure out if he should take back his words. You hardly think anything of it in your tipsy state, too excited to even fully register it all.

“Yeah?” you ask so eagerly that you want to rip your own tongue out because the last thing you want is to seem desperate.

But clearly, he loses the battle, because his dark eye only softens a bit at your enthusiasm. The corner of his lip curls upward and you swear you see something else in his expression—something caught between grief and longing that makes your throat swell even with the alcohol clouding your mind.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hold your hand out to him; you’re not really sure why and you think you might’ve just embarrassed yourself again when his gaze cuts down to it intensely. You withdraw your hand with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “Got ahead of myself, I guess.”

Dazai doesn’t respond for an agonizing amount of time and when you’re about to head back to the main part of the club and hope he follows you, he decides to hold his hand out to you.

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, voice a bit more hoarse now.

You reach out to take his hand, fingers brushing his bandaged wrist, where his suit jacket is riding up his arm just a bit. His pulse is erratic and rapid beneath your touch, a complete 180 from the calm, aloof expression on his face. His fingers intertwine with yours as you lead him back into the club—his grip is a bit too tight, but you don’t mind. For some reason, it feels a bit comforting.

You and Dazai make your way back down the hall in the direction of the main room of the club. As soon as he pushes open the door, he pulls his hand from yours but before you can even process the action enough to pout at the loss of contact, he’s slipping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side to not lose you in the crowds of drunken clubgoers and you think you might feel a bit faint at the way his fingers press into your lower hip through the thin cloth of your dress.

You can’t help but notice the way people seem to part for the two of you, even with the majority of them drunk out of their minds, it’s like they catch one glance of Dazai and move out of his way. It seems instinctual, almost, as if he’s exuding an aura that no one can bring themselves to come near.

You peer up at him curiously, watching his eyelashes flutter as he looks down at you as if he can feel you looking at him. Your face is hot when he catches you looking at him so you immediately avert your gaze; you can feel him let out a puff of amusement, but he doesn’t say anything as the two of you finally reach the bar.

“A gentleman,” you tease when he pulls out the stool for you to sit. He waves the bartender down and you watch, a bit surprised, when the man instantly makes his way over to you, gaze flickering to Dazai.

It had taken you twenty minutes to wave the man down earlier to get your drink.

You also can’t help but notice that he doesn’t even ask Dazai what drink he wants, pouring him whiskey on the rocks, a luxury brand that probably costs more than your monthly rent.

You feel a bit embarrassed ordering your cheap martini after, distracting him with idle conversation.

“Do you come here a lot or something?” you ask him curiously, lifting your drink to your lips to take a sip of your drink once the bartender passes it over—it tastes better than it did before. Smoother.

“Or something,” Dazai agrees cryptically, the corners of his lips tilting upward as he looks over you. “Why?”

“So mysterious,” you say playfully, before shrugging. “I’m just curious, he seemed to know you… maybe I’m also trying to figure out if I’d be able to run into you again here.”

You watch him hesitantly, wondering if it was a bit weird to add that, cursing your lips once again for moving before your brain can process. But Dazai doesn’t look weirded out by your comment—he looks a bit surprised, yes, but in a pleased way rather than a disturbed way.

“Already trying to plot out meeting me again?” he drawls, watching you from the corner of his eye with an indecipherable look that doesn’t match the curl of his lips. “What if you decide you don’t like me? If I end up being dangerous?”

“Oh, you’re definitely dangerous, Dazai Osamu,” you say firmly with a laugh, eyes glimmering. “I could tell that from the moment I saw you. I’m not that drunk.”

His eyebrow raises a bit as he tilts his head to the side. “And yet you invited me for a drink anyway,” he notes, his index finger on his free hand thrumming steadily on the bartop.

“Maybe I like danger,” you say, leaning in a bit closer just to test the waters.

Dazai doesn’t pull away, your heart races in your chest as his gaze traces your face, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips. You think you might’ve been wrong before when you compared the color of his eye to an abyss—now, beneath the lighting of the club, you think they’re far more reminiscent of a starry night, just as endless as the abyss, but not quite as dark and hopeless with the celestial bodies glittering within them.

“Maybe you should be more careful,” he murmurs, and there’s an odd shift in his voice—a warning, as if he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you agree idly, “or maybe I enjoy living life on the edge. It’s short enough as it is, isn’t it? I’d prefer to live it to the fullest than die having barely lived at all.”

“Living life to the fullest involves inviting shady men to drink with you and scheming out a second meeting without even having decided if you like them?” Dazai questions, voice low and amused.

“Shady?” you grin. “Well, I guess you said it, not me. Anyway, I’ve decided that I already like you, Dazai Osamu, so, of course, I’m going to scheme out a second meeting—hopefully, one where I’m not quite as drunk so I can actually charm you, I’m very charming when I’m sober, I’ve been told. I don’t fumble over my words quite as much, or lighters, for that matter.”

You’ve literally never been told once in your life that you’re charming when you’re sober, so you don’t know where that came from, but you decide to roll with it and hope for the best.

“I’ll have you know that I’m quite charmed already,” Dazai says, lips tilting up into a smile that seems a bit more genuine, reflecting in the way his eye curves up too. “If you get any more charming, I might just be in danger.”

“Well, do you like danger then?” you ask, resting your elbow on the bar so you can prop your chin on your hand, looking up at Dazai through your lashes. “We’ve already established that I enjoy it, are you going to join me on the edge, Dazai?”

For some reason, for a split second, it seems as if you’ve asked Dazai the most difficult question in the world—the space between his brows creases and the easy smile on his lips flattens, the starry sky painted in his eye dulls back into the terrible abyss. Your lips part to say something, because even with the fuzziness of your drink clouding your head, you know you made a mistake somewhere.

“I usually stay far from the edge,” he admits quietly, “... too much at risk for that.”

“... Usually?” you press, latching onto the word quickly as you toss him another teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I enough to tempt you closer to it, then?”

“You have no idea,” he breathes out so quietly that you think you’re not meant to overhear it. As if he realizes he might’ve said it a bit too loud, he tilts his head to the side and gives you half of a smile as he asks, “What makes you so sure you like me already, anyway?”

You match his smile, making a show of humming, dramatically thinking long and hard about it. Then you shrug, smile widening, “Don’t know. Maybe I just decided. Or maybe, I’d like to think it’s fate.”

Andddd you’ve made a mistake again. You falter when you see how his expression closes off instantly and you wish you could bite your own tongue off because, of course, it’s just your luck to have misspoken twice in a span of two minutes. This is why you don’t socialize with people.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he finally says, voice a bit tighter than it was before.

“Why?” you ask curiously, brows furrowing a bit.

He hesitates, gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns his gaze away, lifting it to the ceiling instead. All he says is: “I don’t like the idea of my life being predestined by some higher power—if there’s a fate, then I’ll exhaust everything I have trying to defy it.”

“Okay,” you agree, still not entirely understanding why he’s so against the idea of fate—you think it’s rather romantic but to each their own. Either way, you raise your glass to him, waiting for him to click his against yours. “To defying fate then.”

His throat bobs as he swallows at your words, an odd look in his eye as he repeats quietly, “To defying fate.”

Dazai is in trouble.

He thought he could indulge himself just for one night. If it’s his fate to meet you, then let it happen only once so he can be done with it—one night, and then everything will return to how it should be. He’ll fall back into the shadows and you’ll live your life in the light, a long and fulfilling life where he isn’t putting you in danger just by being around you. But he’s realizing, very quickly, that he severely overestimated his self-control, which is a feat in itself, really, because Dazai knew that his self-control would be abysmal when it comes to you but he still somehow managed to critically misjudge just how abysmal it would be.

He thinks he probably looks like a fool—you’re rambling about your work and the graduate school program you’d just been accepted into, you’re switching between topics so quickly that Dazai can hardly keep up, but he doesn’t care, he’s content just hearing your voice, slurred and excitable as it may be.

It’s different hearing it in person than it is in all of the vague memories of the other worlds—you’re different. You’re brighter. More alive. A shining star in a sea of midnight. The warmth of the sun giving life to a rotting corpse. For the first time in twenty-two years, Dazai Osamu feels like he’s finally breathing. The misty memories didn’t do you justice in any regard, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to return to the shadows alone after having felt the brief glow of your light, warm and comforting against his skin, because Dazai already can’t seem to get enough of it. He thinks you must be like a drug or something because there’s no other explanation for the way he’s so utterly entranced by the sight and sound of you.

A part of him wonders if all of the other Dazais have met this same fate at your hands: bewitched and spellbound, unable to draw their eyes away from you, hardly even able to remember to breathe in your presence. He thinks that they must have—he can see flashes of their lives and feel echoes of their emotions, and it’s always most intense whenever it involves you.

It’s a struggle just to remind himself to play the part of the ordinary man with you around so as to not scare you off, pretending he's like any other human being and not a monster wearing the skin of a man, like you haven’t been the object of his obsessions since the moment he came in contact with the Book. He tries to keep himself pliant and inviting with a loose posture and warm gaze, free of the intensity curdling through his body. He keeps his smile small and gentle, hiding the sharp and bloodied teeth decorating his mouth, and he keeps his touches brief, hardly ghosting your skin in fear that you’ll start rotting beneath it. He doesn’t know if he succeeds. He honestly doesn’t even know if you notice, you’re way more intoxicated than you originally made yourself out to be; he can tell from the way your ever-present smile is lopsided and the way your eyes are a bit glazed over, if it wasn’t abundantly apparent by the slur to your words.

“... and then, Hinata kept talking even though everyone else was… Dazai Osamu, are you even listening to me?”

He hums quietly as you abruptly turn your gaze back onto him and for a moment, Dazai is breathless—his name rolls off your tongue with the familiarity of a pair of lovers who’ve been together for years, and he swears that your eyes glitter beneath the lighting of the club as you look at him, and he doesn’t think anyone in his life has ever looked at him the way you do in this moment. Dazai Osamu has always been a name that no one would rather hear, attached to a man that no one would rather see. He’s not used to being talked to like this. He’s not used to being looked at like this.

He wants to be used to it.

He so, so desperately wants to be used to it.

You lean in when he doesn’t respond to you, a bit too close because he can smell the faded scent of your perfume and the gin on your tongue when he takes in a sharp breath to respond—it goes straight to Dazai’s head, his words dying before they can even formulate in his mouth. Everything feels fuzzy and light and Dazai thinks he might actually pass out. You’re such a far cry from the numb void that he’s used to, overwhelming his senses with the sight and touch and scent and sound of you, overwhelming his mind with emotions that he doesn’t know how to cope with and he just can’t get a handle on himself no matter how hard he tries. Every time he thinks he does, you throw another curveball at him like leaning in so close that Dazai swears if you were any closer, his lips would be brushing yours.

He’s never yearned like this before, not when he found himself in Odasaku’s house years ago as he tried to get ahold of that wretched painting and not during the long, dark nights when he found himself gasping awake, torn from dreams of lives he’ll never experience, the ghost of your lips still smiling against his skin. He can feel it deep in his chest, clogging his lungs and throat. He feels like he’s fighting the strings of a marionette as his fingers twitch at his side, begging him to reach out and feel the skin of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, cup the side of your face just to see if you’d lean into his touch, craving it the same way he craves yours.

He yearns and Dazai Osamu doesn’t know if he has the strength to deny himself of you now that he’s finally gotten a taste of what he could have. He tries to remind himself of what’s at stake, he tries to conjure the images that have plagued his nightmares so many times before—the sight of you crumpled in his arms, cold and still, and the sound of your cries for help, jarring and agonizing to his ears. But all he can muster is the sight of the wide and genuine smile that only you have ever directed toward him in all of his other lives and the sound of your bright laughter ringing in his ears, two things that he’s been deprived of entirely in this life until now.

“... if the phone call is that important, you can take it, y’know? You don’t have to sit here pretending to listen to me when you’re focused on that.”

Dazai is hardly able to drag himself back to the conversation at hand, your words processing slowly, as if his thoughts are being dragged through thick tar, but he forces himself to focus because even in your drunken state you sound a bit irritated.

He glances down at the bartop, where he had placed his phone down after taking a seat next to you, watching as it vibrates against the hardwood and as Chuuya’s name flashes across the screen. A few seconds pass, and his phone goes still and the missed call notification pops up on his screen—evidently along with nine others.

Dazai winces. He wishes the phone call had been what was distracting him—unfortunately, it’s impossible to tell you that he’s spiraling because of you without sounding psychotic.

As soon as the call ends, his phone is buzzing again, Chuuya's name flashing across the screen once more, persistent as ever. Dazai’s gaze cuts backward to where the two of you had come from, up to the windows on the second floor that look down on the main floor, and then he glances back down at his phone.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Dazai tells you quietly, reaching for his phone.

You toss him an easy smile that nearly has him faltering, whatever irritation you may have felt is gone in an instant.

“I’ll be waiting,” you tease, and Dazai’s heart is in his throat as he hesitates for just a second too long, as familiar words echo through his head, memories that aren’t his own from a life that he’d never be able to experience.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He lingers too long evidently because you shoo him away, spinning on the bar stool to face the bartender as you try to flag him down for another drink that you probably should not be having, seeing how you’re swaying a bit on the stool. Dazai only shakes his head as he makes his way away from the bar closer to the edges of the club, where it’s a bit quieter, if only marginally.

As soon as he leaves your presence, the familiar cold numbness returns, spreading like ice through his chest and he’s desperate to be back in your vicinity already, missing the warmth. Oh, this is trouble, he laments to himself, trying to push away the longing feeling spreading through him and instead turns his attention to purposely waiting until the last ring to answer Chuuya’s call, if only to be a bit spiteful because the other man’s persistence is the reason he had to leave you.

Lifting his phone to his ear, he asks coolly, “Do you need something, Chuuya?”

“Where the hell did you go?” Chuuya immediately hisses back, fury dripping from his words. He’s speaking quietly and Dazai can’t hear any conversation in the background, so he can only assume that Chuuya had stepped out of the room where the rest of the Port Mafia and Pale Flame executives were having their meeting. “You’ve been gone for forty minutes, Kouyou and I have been handling the meeting. Do you even have anyone with you right now? Hirotsu? Tachihara? Atsushi?”

“I’m sure you and Ane-san have been conducting the meeting perfectly fine without me,” Dazai says dismissively, leaning against the wall as his gaze cuts through the crowds to the bar he’d left you at but he can’t catch sight of you through the masses of people. He frowns, pacing a bit down the room to try to get a better angle.

“Bastard,” Chuuya spits out with a venomous type of disrespect that he only attacks Dazai with when he’s exceptionally frustrated. “Answer my question. Where the hell are you? Do you have a protection detail on you? What are you doing?”

“I’m in the club still,” Dazai says distantly, and he’s sure Chuuya can tell that he’s barely paying attention to the conversation because the man lets out a noise caught between a snarl and a growl, much like the dog he is. “I’ll be fine, we have men stationed all over—you’re always so uptight, Chuuya, you should pull out the stick every once in a while.”

“You-” Chuuya says loudly and sharply, cutting himself off abruptly, evidently having realized he’s let himself get too loud. Dazai is hardly listening at this point, getting increasingly more agitated as the masses of crowds block his line of sight to where you should be sitting. “I’m coming down there.”

That catches Dazai’s attention.

“Do not.” The two words leave his lips, a command so cold and cutting that he can practically hear Chuuya jolt in surprise at the sudden shift from the absent tone he’d been speaking with before. He forces his voice to take upon a more teasing lilt as he says, “I met a girl, Chuuya. If you come down here, your ugly mug will scare her right off.”

“What?” Chuuya sounds so baffled it’s almost comical. Dazai might’ve found amusement in it were he not so irritated with his current predicament. “I-you-what?”

“You sound so shocked, Chuuya. Some of us talk to more women than just Ane-san and Gin-chan, you know?” Dazai drawls, noticing that there’s a gap in the crowds up ahead that should give him a direct view toward the bar, beelining toward it immediately.

“Shut up,” Chuuya seethes. “Who the hell would even give you the time of day? And since when do you seek out women? You’ve never shown any interest before.”

“Are you jealous?” Dazai croons. “It’s an ugly look on you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya splutters. “The fuck is wrong with you tonight?” he demands. “You’ve been acting like a damn freak ever since we left the base. Mood swings left and right.”

“You know I don’t like…” Dazai trails off as he finally gets a direct view of the bar, dark eye focusing in on where you seem to be arguing with an unfamiliar man. The smile that had been curling to the corners of his lips falls flat and his gaze goes cold—ice spreads through his chest again but this time it isn’t a result of the numbness, rather it’s a much more dangerous emotion that threatens to erupt. “I have to go.”

“Bastard, if you hang up on me-”

Dazai doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence, hanging up the call and slipping his phone into his pocket, ignoring it when it immediately starts buzzing again. He doesn’t waste a second before he makes his way back across the club to the bar.

If people had avoided him before, it was nothing compared to now, watching them scramble out of his way even in their drugged-up and intoxicated states. He doubts that most of them even know the significance of who he is, they can just feel the cold fury rolling off of him in waves. It’s a bit impressive, honestly, how quickly he’s able to get back to you, and his hand darts out quickly, fingers wrapping tightly around the wrist of the man who was grabbing your forearm, if his grip was any tighter, the man’s bones would be cracking beneath his touch.

The reaction is instantaneous. Your gaze draws up to him, relief flooding your eyes at the sight of him—distantly, Dazai notes that he thinks that this might be the first time in his life anyone has ever been relieved to see him, but he’s more preoccupied with the man who was bothering you, who’s now turning toward him with an irritated expression.

“Look, man.” Dazai’s hidden eye twitches at the casual address, but he makes sure that the annoyance doesn’t show on his face. “Just trying to get her home, the rest of our coworkers left already.”

Dazai’s vice-like grip doesn’t budge, but his mind races. This is his out. If he lets you go home with your coworker, then he can go back up to the meeting taking place on the second floor and he can try to scorch his mind of the yearning that’s been plaguing him so intensely. Things can go back to normal—his one night of indulgence over, no matter how agonizing the thought of that is. He can return to the Port Mafia base, back in the shadows, and he can use the memory of this night with you to fuel his dedication to his grand plan of protecting this world. It’s a perfect setup, honestly, if he disregards two critical issues: 1) he’s probably incapable of scorching his mind of the yearning you’ve brought on and 2) more importantly, you’re staring at him with an expression nothing short of pleading, seemingly begging him not to leave.

The words escape his lips before he can think to stop them: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take her home.”

The faux-concern that the man had been directing toward you disappears as soon as Dazai speaks, shifting into an expression that probably would have been concerning to anyone who wasn’t a literal mafioso, and Dazai is not just a mafioso, he is their boss and he has dealt with people who were objectively much more powerful and concerning than a regular civilian who thinks he’s tougher than he is. So Dazai only tilts his head to the side a bit, the corner of his lip curves up in amusement as he pointedly looks over the man once. The cool metal of the gun hidden in his jacket weighs heavily as a reminder that it’s there and ready for him to use; his fingers twitch toward it, but instead, he pockets his hands, deciding against it, if only because he thinks pulling out a gun might scare you away. He doesn’t want that.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asks furiously—Dazai wonders, a bit absently, if this is that Takeda fellow you were complaining about earlier, he certainly fits the picture with the beady eyes and weaselly face.

“An old friend,” Dazai drawls—not entirely a lie, just in a different life, and definitely more than friends, but he doesn’t need to know that. “We’ve been catching up. You can go.”

It’s not a request, and evidently, the man isn’t stupid enough to keep pressing Dazai because his confidence falters as he takes a step back, letting go of your arm. Or more probably, he caught a glimpse of the glint of metal hidden by his coat when Dazai shifted to look at you. Either way, Dazai doesn’t care because the man stutters out a few words and a ‘see you Monday’ to you before turning tail and leaving.

Dazai doesn’t bother correcting him—he definitely will not be seeing you on Monday. He ensures that through the silent order in the sharp look, he gives Tachihara Michizo, who’s been lingering on the outskirts of the club for five minutes now, no doubt trying to keep an eye on him under Chuuya’s command. Tachihara doesn’t hesitate as he nods his head, gaze following the retreating figure of the man before he slinks right after him.

He thinks you have bad friends. Coworkers. Whatever. All of them leaving you drunk and alone with someone who’s a stranger in their eyes. Yes, he scared the only one that tried away, but if it was Dazai in his position, not even god himself would be able to scare him away from making sure you get home safely.

They don’t deserve you, he decides firmly, and those dark thoughts from earlier return, whispering that he should just take you for himself, tuck you away in the tallest towers of the Port Mafia base. He’d keep you safe. He’d make you happy. You’d never have to want for anything ever again, he’d give you the entire world if you so pleased. He shuts off the train of thought before it can become any more tempting, knowing that his thread of self-control concerning you is waning at best.

Dazai promptly turns his attention back to you and all of the irritation that he might’ve been feeling about your coworkers and that man washes away when he catches the dazzled look on your face as you look up at him, elbow propped on the bartop and chin resting in your hand.

“Thanks,” you say so softly that Dazai barely hears you over the thundering music and clamoring people around the two of you. “That was Takeda… I don’t know, maybe he didn’t mean any harm but… I just don’t want him to know where I live, I guess.”

You look sleepy now, eyes a bit heavy and shoulders slumped; the alcohol must’ve worked its way through you already. Dazai also can’t help but notice that the front of your dress is drenched with what looks like the rest of your drink; it must have spilled in the brief struggle between you and your coworker.

“You’d rather a stranger know, then?” Dazai can’t help but ask, making sure to keep his voice teasing, watching you carefully for a response.

He’s curious to know if you feel even half as drawn to him as he is to you, to know if this really is a mutual bond that transcends worlds or if it’s a sick obsession on his part triggered by the revelations of the Book. Or it could be both. It’s probably both. Dazai is pretty sure what he feels for you isn’t normal or healthy, and he’s not sure if it’s any healthier in any of the other universes or if every other Dazai is just as twisted when it comes to love as he is.

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” you admit quietly, looking up at him through your lashes and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat, clogging his airways and threatening to suffocate him. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Dazai breathes out instantly, the confirmation that your words give him lights a dangerous fire in his chest, one that he needs to put out but can’t bring himself to. “I feel the same.”

Your expression softens, eyes tracing his face, and Dazai thinks he would set the entire world on fire just for you to look at him like that again. Then, he realizes, throat a bit tighter now, that the words are not quite the empty promise that they would be coming from anyone else’s lips—he might just be setting everything he’s built on fire just for you, and your warmth is not enough to push away the cold awareness that suddenly spreads through his body, putting out all of the fires that his time with you has set within him.

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your cheek. Your lashes flutter as you lean into his touch and instantly, he’s set aflame again, it’s raging through his chest and melting the ice and Dazai thinks he doesn’t care if this is a bond that transcends worlds or a sick obsession. He thinks it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he needs you so desperately that it might kill him if he doesn’t have you.

It might kill you if he does have you.

Fire and ice wage a brutal war within him, a futile battle because no matter how much the ice tries to spread, the flames melt it away, and he realizes that he can’t be around you when the war is inevitably won because he’ll never be able to drag himself away from you.

One night, he reminds himself, sharp and scolding, one night of indulgence. That’s all.

“Come on,” Dazai murmurs. “Let’s get you home.”

Dazai wonders how a place he’s never been to can feel so much like home.

Or, well, he assumes this is what a home would feel like, it’s not like he’s ever actually had one to compare to. The penthouse suite of the Port Mafia base is closer to a prison than something he can consider a home. He doesn’t remember enough of his childhood to know if he lived somewhere back then that he considered a home. The shipping container he lived in during his teenage years is probably the closest thing he has to compare to and even then, he never felt safe or warm or comforted there, he just had the distant reassurance that no one would ever bother him while he was there and that was more than he had anywhere else.

And this is…

He doesn’t really know how to describe it, the words just won’t come to him—a rare occurrence, considering Dazai’s always been known to have a tongue of the purest silver, acquiring the most lucrative deals for the Port Mafia despite egregious odds and hostile parties solely because he’s learned to read and charm people to the best of his ability. His brain and his tongue have been the driving force behind the Mafia’s rapid and exponential expansion across Japan and into the mainland, yet both fail him now.

Courtesy of you and your influence, naturally.

The curve to his lips is fond as he trails his fingers across the back of the couch in your living room. It’s all so achingly familiar, as if he’s been here a thousand times before—if he lets his eye flutter shut, he can almost picture you cross-legged on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate tucked neatly between your hands, dozing off as he regales you with nonsensical stories.

Everything is just how he remembers it from the vague memories. Your desk is set up near the window on the far side of your room, next to the bench where he would sit and watch you while you study, pouting until you finally decided to give him attention. Papers are strewn all across your coffee table; he flips through them idly, realizing that they’re all study materials for the entrance exam to the graduate school you’d just been accepted into—he makes sure to leave them in the same order that you’d left them in, recalling how often you’d end up yelling at him for messing up your piles. A picture hangs on your wall near the door of you and your brother—familiar, why is he so familiar? His gaze lingers for a moment, brows furrowing before he shakes his head, putting the thought in the back of his head as he wonders if he ended up passing in this universe too.

He wanders over to the kitchen and his eyes narrow just a smidge, noticing that there are two dirty mugs in your sink, the ones you’d always use to make those fancy hot chocolates of yours. He hums to himself softly as he traces his finger along the rim of one, recognizing the same shade of lipstick you wore tonight staining the brim. The other mug has no such stain. His throat tightens a bit, gaze flickering up to the cabinet he recalls you usually putting your ingredients and when he opens the cabinet, he thinks he might feel a bit sick, seeing them all up on a shelf too high for you to reach on your own—you always put them on the lower shelves.

His jaw tightens as he pointedly puts them all back down on the lower shelf before shutting the cabinet, a bit more tense now than he was a few moments before. His gaze cuts across your apartment, searching for any sign of who you might’ve been having over—someone important enough for you to make your favorite hot chocolate for—but he finds none until his eyes land on a jacket crumpled in the corner of the room that’s definitely not yours, hidden halfway beneath one of the pillows on his window bench. He has to remind himself that it’s not his and he’s never been here before now so he has no claim over anything.

He makes his way over to it, yanking it out and lifting it to his nose. It doesn’t smell like you, it’s an unfamiliar woody scent that makes his stomach churn for more than one reason—the most primary one being that he doesn’t know whose it is and why they’re leaving clothes at your apartment. It’s a man’s, certainly, he can tell that much from the scent and the size and Dazai thinks he might feel a bit light-headed at the idea of you having other men over your apartment. His only solace comes in the fact that there doesn’t appear to be any other signs of his presence, but it’s a small solace at best.

He has to leave. The longer he lingers in your apartment, the more he’s struggling to decipher the already blurred line between the lives he remembers and his unfortunate reality.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the nth time because the night is over. You’d passed out long before even arriving at your apartment, after you gave the address luckily because for better or for worse, that had been one of the few things Dazai hadn’t retained from the vague memories he has of the other universes.

He trails back over to the door that leads to your bedroom, a heavy feeling settling over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze draws to where you’re fast asleep beneath the covers, still dressed in the outfit you’d worn to the club because although all of the other Dazais would have changed you into something more comfortable when you’re too drunk to do it yourself, he does not retain that privilege in this world. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s some perverted creep.

Dazai sighs, eyes sliding shut as he lets himself bask in the moment for just a little longer, dreading having to return to the harsh reality of a life without you, fated to be alone until he’s sure that he’s secured the safety of this world when he can take the final step in guaranteeing that you and Odasaku will be able to live out your lives peacefully. Without him.

He wants to touch you one last time, brush his fingers against your cheek, enjoy the way your warmth spreads through him, but he thinks he’s tested his self-control too much for one day. He fears that if he pushes it anymore, he’ll never be able to go back to how it was, so it’s with a heart that pleads for him to reconsider and a body that resists his every move that he turns away from your bedroom, making his way over to your kitchen counter to grab the key that he fished out of your purse.

It takes all of his restraint to not look back, jaw clenched so tight that he thinks his teeth might grind down to dust. He steps outside and the fresh air feels like poison to his lungs, he wants to step back inside, drown himself in the familiar scent of you, the familiar scent of the only home he’s ever known in any lifetime, the one he has to deny himself of for the sake of preserving this world, for the sake of saving Odasaku and saving you.

His fingers tremble a bit as he slides the key into the lock and turns it, checking twice to make sure it locks properly so no one can sneak in while you’re sleeping, before kneeling down to slide the key beneath the crack of the door back into your apartment.

As soon as the key is out of his reach, Dazai feels cold and empty; the black hole within him expands now that he’s vulnerable again without your presence fighting it off, and the force of it is ten times as lethal now that he’s experienced what life might be without it constantly consuming him. He stares at your door for a second after rising to his feet, his mind and heart and body all at war with each other. The parts of him that haven’t festered and withered over the years beg him to just go back to you, tell you everything, and crumble in your arms and pray that you don’t think he’s delusional and call the police on him; the parts of him that have been corrupted by the time he’s spent in the darkest parts of the world whisper more dangerous words, telling him to go back in and take you back with him, it doesn’t matter what you want if it means he can keep you safe, and he knows that one day you’ll understand why he did it, you’ll even be happy because you’re meant to be happy with him, no matter how it comes about.

And he thinks he’s a fool because the only fortunate thing about his circumstances had been that no matter how vividly he remembered you and your apartment, the Book had not passed on the knowledge of its location, so he’d never been tempted to “accidentally” seek you out by wandering in locations that you frequent because he had no idea where you were. Yokohama isn’t a small city and he was never going to cross the line of purposely seeking you out through the use of Port Mafia resources because that meant he was purposely putting you in danger.

But now, he’ll have the knowledge of your location dangling in front of his face for the rest of his life, however long it may be. Every day will be a struggle to resist the urge to seek you out, as if everything isn’t hard enough for him already.

Frustration builds in his chest as he makes his way down to the parking lot of the apartment complex. Realistically, Dazai had plenty of options that would have objectively been better than this. He could have sent you with his driver alone, but the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Albatross, the Flags remain among the most loyal members of the Port Mafia, but Dazai doesn’t think anyone is worthy enough to lay their hands on you. He thinks that if Albatross had reported back to him that he had to carry you into your apartment and put you in your bed, he might’ve put a bullet through his skull and then he’d have to deal with mutiny and he can’t afford a mutiny when things are already so tenuous, stability in the Port Mafia has to be paramount until he can get through all five phases of his plan.

But even if he didn’t send you with Albatross, he could have had Kouyou handle this. Kouyou already knows of you, she’s the one that he assigned to make sure you’re never threatened by Yokohama’s underground, and she knew where your apartment was already. It still leaves a sour taste in his mouth but not as strong as the thought of sending you with Albatross. He could’ve had Kouyou take care of this and he could’ve been free of the temptation already looming over him but-

But Dazai is selfish. Dazai is selfish and reckless when it comes to you; even when he knows what’s at stake, even when he knows the destruction that he brings. Fate, the word rings through his head, mocking him. Fate, fate, fate. It’s his fate to always be drawn to you, like a bee to honey and a moth to flame, irresistible and inexorable. He can’t avoid it and he can’t control himself no matter how hard he tries. You’re tied together by threads that the gods shorten with every passing second and they laugh down at him as they watch him trying to resist it.

It’s his fate to be drawn to you.

It’s his fate to be your destruction.

Dazai slips back into the backseat of Albatross’s sleek black car, shutting the door just a bit too harshly, gaze immediately drifting back toward the apartment complex, up to the closed door on the second level where he’d left you. He waits for the car to pull away, but it doesn’t. Irritated, he turns his gaze to the rearview mirror in the front of the car, catching Albatross staring at him curiously, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Dazai asks, voice low and icy.

Albatross is unperturbed—of all of the members of the Port Mafia, only he and Chuuya never flinch at his unapproachability. “Ya gotta girl now, boss?” he asks curiously, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Dazai’s response.

“No.”

“Hm.” Albatross only hums as if he’s disappointed by the answer. “You seemed happier, s’all. Never seen you like that before. Was nice.”

Dazai’s jaw tightens again at the man’s words, biting words threatening to escape his lips but he swallows them. Instead, he becomes acutely aware of the jacket that he’s still holding in his left hand. His expression twists and then he tosses it into the front seat at Albatross, who blinks and catches it, looking down confused.

“Whadya want me to do with this?” he asks, baffled.

“Burn it.” Is all Dazai responds with. “Take me back to the base.”

“... You got it, boss,” Albatross murmurs, and he still sounds disappointed, but an order is an order so he doesn’t hesitate as he starts the car back up and pulls out of the complex’s parking lot.

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave your apartment door once until Albatross finally turns down a street out of sight of the building.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the last time. One night of indulgence and then he’ll never encounter you again. For better or for worse, that’s how it has to be.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #beast dazai osamu x reader #beast dazai osamu x you #beast dazai x you #beast dazai x reader

544 notes · View notes

hummingbird-of-light · 8 months

Text

Against All Odds

Part 749

McCoy

McCoy stretched as he woke up and was surprised to find he didn’t bump into another body. That sped his eyes open and he looked around hurriedly until he saw the note Scotty had left him. He settled back and stretched again.

As he dressed he wondered where Scotty had gone. Probably something to do with Robbie for his birthday. He’d see him in a bit at breakfast.

In class, when they were given time to work together, McCoy wasn’t surprised when Keenser and Aaron joined him. They had worked as a trio a few times since the two had told McCoy about the start of Jocelyn’s rumors.

“I’m glad you guys were able to work it out with switching rooms,” McCoy said quietly.

“Me too,” Aaron said, looking at Keenser gratefully. “I know Robbie wouldn’t have liked having me.” A chagrined expression crossed his face. “But I’m glad to be out. I- I just don’t want to be around Pete anymore. He’s really shown his true colors and who he is.” Aaron lowered his eyes to his PADD.

“I’m happy for you for recognizing that,” McCoy said gently.

“Same,” Keenser said.

“I wish I had known sooner,” Aaron mumbled.

“Better now than never.”

McCoy nodded his agreement. His PADD blinked and he looked down to see a new message from Leah. Something inside him tightened and worried what new things had been written about him. There was relief as he opened the message and saw it was just asking if Robbie’s gift had arrived. Leah had sent it to McCoy.

He quickly typed back that it had the day before and he had just forgotten to let her know. By the time he finished Keenser and Aaron had gotten started on their work and he hurried to catch up.

“Who’s getting everything set up later?” McCoy asked as he and Scotty walked to their room after lunch.

“Christine and Pavel,” Scotty replied.

“Are they going to need help?”

“I think they have it in hand,” Scotty said, opening their door. “We’re supposed to keep him distracted until everything is ready.” Scotty couldn’t help a grin as they got settled to wait for Dr. Hudson to arrive.

“How are you boys doing?” Dr. Hudson asked after she greeted them and sat in her normal spot in McCoy’s desk chair. “Your interview was lovely, but I see you still have some detractors.”

McCoy shook his head. “I haven’t read any of it. Good or bad.”

“I have,” Scotty admitted. “It’s hard not to when headlines pop up about you love,” he explained with only a hint of embarrassment.

“Remember to not take those negative articles to heart,” Dr. Hudson said. “I heard there was some bother when the fight happened earlier this week. Anything you’d like to talk about?”

McCoy’s face heated. Jim had told them about Pike and Hudson being close. She must know McCoy had stormed into the headmaster’s office with demands. He let out a sigh.

“That was me,” he admitted. “I tried to demand things when I shouldn’t.”

“But you had concerns?”

“It was unintentionally because of the interview,” McCoy said slowly. “I felt it was my fault again.” He hung his head. “It always feels like my fault. I know it isn’t, but it’s hard to remember that when a friend is injured because of it.”

“That’s good to recognize and work on Leonard,” Dr. Hudson told him. “And wanting to defend your friends is never wrong. But there are better ways to go about these things.”

“I know,” he agreed quietly. “I’ve been trying to work on it since I got sent here. It’s why I got sent here.”

Scotty put an arm around his shoulders and McCoy leaned into him.

“And you are doing better Leonard, you’ll keep improving. Scotty, how are you feeling? Last week you were nervous about giving the interview. How are you feeling now that it is over?”

Part 750

Scotty

Scotty hesitated for a moment when he heard Dr. Hudson’s question. He had to think about it. How was he feeling about everything?

“I’m… glad that it went so well. Amy - the reporter - was really nice and… I felt more or less comfortable giving the interviews with Leonard and my mum at my side.”

He paused and their psychologist could obviously see that Scotty wasn’t completely satisfied with that answer.

“But?”

Scotty sighed quietly.

“But… it’s still hard. I know that truth is out now, yet still there are people who will nae believe what we say. I just hate it when people call Leonard a liar and other horrible stuff.”

It wasn’t fair. What did they have to do to prove that they were telling the truth? Was a polygraph needed or what?

“Does it help you in any way to think about these people? Do you feel better when you constantly lose yourself in a spiral of thoughts about why these people won’t believe you?”

Scotty let out a humorless chuckle as he shook his head.

“Nae, of course not.”

A soft smile formed on Hudson’s lips.

“Then maybe it’s better if you don’t focus on that topic. Do everything in your power to make people see that the two of you are happy together. Show them how much you love each other. And, what’s most important, focus on yourselves and not on other people’s opinions.”

Scotty nodded slowly. Deep inside he knew that Dr. Hudson was right. But still, he also knew that it would be hard to follow her advice.

“I’ll try, doc. Thanks.”

After their session it was time for dinner and after that the friends all made their way to the greenhouse.

Scotty smiled at his brother who was walking beside him. He really hoped that they’d manage to make him feel better, even though Leah couldn’t be with them. He knew that an ominous package had arrived for Leonard the day before, but his fiancé hadn’t told him what was inside. He suspected that it was Leah’s birthday present for Robbie.

When they entered the greenhouse, Scotty was amazed by everything their friends had set up. There were balloons and pretty fairy lights. There was a table with lots of decorations and a huge cake.

“Happy birthday, Robbie!” everyone cheerfully exclaimed and Scotty could see that his brother was quite touched by everything the others had organized.

“Thank ye so much. It’s really bonnie.”

Robbie looked around in amazement as Scotty slowly guided him over to his chair.

“Well then, let’s have some cake. Jaylah baked it,” Christine explained and Scotty saw the faint blush on Jaylah’s face.

“I tried my best.”

“I’m sure it tastes great,” Robbie assured her with a smile and when everyone got eating, he was proven right. It was a lovely cake.

“Are ye ready for yer presents, lad?” Scotty eventually asked once they were done and Robbie nodded.

“Of course. Show me what ye got!”

Lots of presents followed. Books, the model of the spaceship, tools. Robbie was happy about everything, but when Christine revealed her big surprise, he couldn’t believe it.

Christine grinned happily.

“I may have used a few contacts, so that you can have a job shadowing day at Starfleet’s top shipyard. I really hope that you’ll enjoy it.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, Chris. I… thank ye so much.”

There were small tears in Robbie’s eyes as he hugged Christine tightly and Scotty knew that only one present would be able to top hers.

That present being Leah’s.

#star trek #montgomery scott #leonard mccoy #scones #au #against all odds

3 notes · View notes

pinkchaosstories · 10 months

Text

Blood and Thorns - Chapter 16 (Part 3)

Chapter 16 (Part 3): Rituals and Revenge (Read Chapter 1 (part one) here) - (See here for a complete list of chapters)

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's been reading along so far! If you're enjoying Blood and Thorns, please leave a comment, reblog or follow me here on my Writeblr! Just know that I appreciate every like and reblog I get here and I'd love everyone's feedback as always. 💖

A deafening crack. Sapphire’s hand was suddenly gone and she was thrown off Rosalind. Rosalind gasped and coughed, barely comprehending what was going on. The loud sound, whatever it was, made their ears ring. They heard yelling but couldn’t recognize the voices. Was someone yelling? Rosalind couldn’t tell. Their vision was still blurry, their consciousness shrouded in fog. The burning in their limbs returned and the burning in their lungs’ relieved slightly with each cough, though their throat was extremely tender. They couldn’t see or hear anymore. Fuck, they were going to faint. They were scooped up by someone, they could barely make anything out about the person who had rushed to their side. But what they did recognize was the smell of earthy moss and exotic spice, the feeling of the soft hands cradling their face, the feeling of the arms holding them. The last thought they had before blacking out was embarrassment from being seen in such a sorry state, but it was fine, maybe it looked heroic. Hopefully, Marcus would think so.

///

Marcus knew something was up that morning. He’d noticed Rosalind’s hands shaking and that they’d been almost silent his entire visit. At first he assumed they were just tired, then when they didn’t perk up after dinner, he thought he’d done something wrong and they were mad at him. That thought had been handily dissolved by a glorious evening, but when they were silent the next morning too? He was certain something was wrong. When Marcus hugged Rosalind that morning, his heart broke because it wasn’t only their hands that was shaking. He immediately thought of Frigga’s visit, and wondered if this was connected. But it couldn’t be, not if the thing, whatever it was, was happening tonight because he was hosting her and her aunt, right? But when she arrived for dinner, Sapphire began making apologies on Frigga’s behalf; she had “suddenly become ill” huh? That and Rosalind’s behaviour was enough to convince him something was afoot, especially because it was a full moon. The coven would normally have met to do some magic. From what he understood full moons were more powerful somehow? He didn’t get it, so he took their word for it. The visit was going smoothly and the woman seemed in as good a mood as Marcus had ever seen her in, but when Lady Thorneheart’s manservant came up to her suddenly to whisper in her ear, she ended up leaving abruptly. That was no good. Marcus figured this all had something to do with that weird contract thing, and if that was the case, Sapphire going back home would probably be bad for whatever was happening. He did his best to delay her, but she was way too smart for that. Or determined, Marcus wasn’t sure. He wanted to help Rosalind but what good was he in a situation like this? He didn’t have a magical cell in his body and his limited knowledge of magic had him floundering. If only he’d paid closer attention during Frigga’s visit, perhaps he’d have more of an idea how to be of service. It was then he remembered the new contraption his dad had brought home. It was pretty great and it was pretty dangerous and required absolutely zero magical ability which was Marcus’ favourite part. Good thing his dad had shown him how to use it that morning, it was kind of complicated and difficult to use; he’d accidentally broken off an arm of one of the statues in the garden. It was Scarlet Thorneheart’s too which he hoped wasn’t a bad omen. Marcus didn’t bother asking for permission to take it, opting instead to ask for forgiveness later. The only thing he said was that he was going to pay Frigga a visit to make sure she was alright which wasn’t exactly a lie. He was about fifteen minutes behind Lady Thorneheart, and despite him asking the carriage driver to go as fast as possible, he arrived fifteen minutes after the Lady at Thorneheart manor. When he arrived, the door was ajar. He poked his head inside and heard the telltale sounds of magic accompanying a glow coming from the third floor. That was the room where the coven conducted their rituals. He approached it cautiously, his weapon loaded and ready at his side. As he turned the corner, he saw a hallway filled with items recently acquired for Rosalind’s ceremony, but they’d been knocked about. By now the light had faded and it was silent excepting Lady Thorneheart’s voice speaking quietly, a bit too calmly. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, his stomach lurched, then he heard nothing except a little bit of shuffling.

Marcus was usually a laid-back man, but when he peeked into the room, he decided: if Rosalind died, Sapphire would too. Frigga and Razi were unconscious on the floor, and Lady Thorneheart had her hands on Rosalind’s neck, attempting to strangle them. He aimed his weapon at the woman and shot. He barely heard the explosion, gripping the shotgun as tightly as possible, bracing for recoil. The bullet connected to the middle of her back. She was knocked forward, her hands releasing Rosalind, and she tried to turn, to see what had happened, but she didn’t make it that far and collapsed instead. The second she fell, Marcus ran over to his beloved who was gasping for air and shoved Sapphire away from them with his boot. Rosalind was bleeding from a gash on their temple, was badly burned in places, and their arms covered entirely in small slashes as if rose thorns had been raked over them. Marcus scooped Rosalind up as their gasping for air slowed, their breathing finally beginning to steady, though it was clear they were about to pass out. Before they did, Marcus could swear he saw a small smile make it onto their lips. Their whole body was shivering, or trembling Marcus couldn’t tell, but they were alive and they seemed stable. Marcus’ heart pounded in his ears, his teeth grit, and his eyes finally began flooding with tears. He needed to contain himself, Rosalind was relying on him to take care of them. He ran a thumb over their blood-covered cheek and bit the inside of his lip. He should have known; He should have been here. He held Rosalind tight in his trembling arms, trying not to sob, trying not to scream in rage. He felt their breath on his skin as they rested. Taking the chance to look them over a bit more closely, he was horrified. Their knees were scuffed and bleeding, their palms were shredded like their arms, and a bruise was starting to bloom across their neck and jaw. Marcus looked up to see if there was anyone that could help, finding Frigga starting to sit up and Razi had quietly made her way over to help her. “What happened?” He demanded, his voice cracking and wavering. Frigga was slowly pushing herself up from the floor. Razi guided her to sit up to take a look at the laceration on her arm. It was bleeding, though not as badly as it could have, and the magical brand was gone. Marcus saw that from his place several feet away, the realization dawning on him. “Oh my gods, you did it!” He stared at Frigga for a second, Razi had begun wrapping her wound in some gauze she’d had in her pocket for the event, and looked back at the witch in his arms. They were still breathing steadily. Marcus pressed a tearful kiss to their forehead and softly muttered to them, “Rosalind, baby, you did it.” There was a poignant quiet in the room, Marcus cradling Rosalind and Razi seeing to Frigga, making sure she was alright. Razi then stood to look over at Sapphire a few feet from Marcus and Rosalind. The woman had passed out from a mixture of the gunshot wound and exhaustion from their fight. She was bleeding badly from the wound but still alive. Marcus couldn’t care less, the only thing he cared about was Rosalind. They needed help, but he saw Razi leave the room to get exactly that. He thanked the stars he had got there when he did, that he’d followed his gut. If he hadn’t, Rosalind would be dead and his heart would have died with them.

2 notes · View notes

little-ditsy-dreamer · 2 years

Text

Imagine reading Viktors journal

Hello! Been a few days. I have 2 more imagines coming very soon. If you would like a Titanic esc scene of him drawing you let me know. Of course that would lead to more ;) Enjoy the story!

Most of your days have been spent with both Jayce and Viktor. The days and nights lately have been blending together. Staying up, studying, reading. Everything you can possibly do to learn more. To potentially bring more inventions and every day tools to Piltover. You were part of their team but often felt you don’t contribute much.

You sat on a small coach in the middle of the lab. Your feet propped up on the coffee table, reading a random book professor Heimerdinger recommended to you a while back. Jayce was hunched over the work desk fiddling with his newest creation. Then there was Viktor. Sitting backwards on a chair with his legs on each side of the back rest, scribbling down some notes. You often stare and wonder what he writes in it.

Though everyone in Piltover seems to fawn over the wonder boy, Jayce, you’ve been interested in the partner often left on the sideline. When he’s too distracted writing or reading, you often stare at him. Admiring his chestnut hair, and his hazel eyes, which when shown with just the right light, appear to almost be golden.

Jayce lets out a loud sigh and leans back in his chair, putting his hands on his head. “I’m beat. My brain is completely fried. Haven't gotten to sleep in almost 3 days.” Viktor, not bothering to look up from his writings asks “Well, why don't you get some rest? We can pick up tomorrow.” Jayce nods and stands from his seat and looks over to you. “Keep an eye on him will you, Y/N?” You chuckle and nod. “Always do.” Jayce winks at you and heads to the door, opens it and before shutting it shots out a ‘goodnight’ to both of you.

Viktor stands up and stretches a little. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Care to come along?” You shake your head and look up at him. “I’m like 4 chapters off before I finish this. But grab me something too.”

“Of course.” He reply's already walking to the door. That's when you notice. He doesn't have his journal. You glance back to where he was sitting and see it there on the chair. You make sure he is completely gone before rushing over and picking up the journal. You hesitate for a moment. It seems wrong but the curiosity is almost too much for you. You shake your head and quickly flip it open to a random page. There’s some sketches of new inventions and some well written equations. Notes and thoughts written in beautiful, sloppy cursive. You keep flipping till you stop on the newest page.

It takes you a minute to process what it was. It was a portrait of you, sitting on the couch reading. You run your fingers over the soft page and take it in. Could it mean something else? Or were you just romanticizing a simple art project.

“I didn't take you as the nosy type.” You whip your head around and suddenly you’re face to face with Viktor. He has a smut grin and one eyebrow raised. You hadn’t even heard him come in. “I forgot to bring this with me and came back for it.” He looked down at the journal. “Lovely, isn’t it? Couldn't think of a more beautiful person to draw.” You look up at him. Your cheeks hot with blush.

“I’m sorry Viktor.” You say handing him his journal. He shakes his head and shrugs. “I’m sure I was going to show you eventually. But.. didn’t expect it to be today.” You look down at your shoes, embarrassed for letting your curiosity get the best of you.

He brushed his hand over your cheek and lifts your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Its ok. Maybe now I can sketch you up close. Been needing a full body model to study anyway.” He winks at you and turns away. You’re left dumbfounded. The feeling of his fingers on your face still lingering.”

#viktor x reader #viktor #arcane #viktors journal #imagines #arcane imagines #self insert

324 notes · View notes

hotch-stufff · 3 years

Note

hiii 47 and 7 for angst hotch

i love ur writing btw <3

Drunk

gif by hoe-tchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings!: mentions of abuse, stalking, and death, past abusive relationships, normal criminal minds things, angst, crying, pining, but a fluffy ending

Promtps: Angst #7 "Are you drunk?", Angst #47 "You flinched"

Author's Note: Thank you so much <3, hope you enjoy reading!!

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

In hindsight, it probably wasn’ the best idea to get drunk at a bar. Especially alone. But you weren’t exactly thinking straight when you had stepped off the jet after a long case. And it had been a LONG case. Nearly a week of going through the same evidence over and over again scouring for a lead. Finally finding a lead, and coming to a dead end.

The eventual lead that you did catch, led to the unsub already standing over her next victim’s body. At least you got a full confession. But you had been the one that had found the unsub. If that wasn’t enough, this case had already been hitting way too close to home.

A woman was murdering victims of domestic abuse to “save them” because her mom was never “saved” from her father’s abuse. She had grown up watching it. Her victims had all had y/h/c hair, with y/e/c eyes. The same height as you, same style, just overall very similar. The only difference the team saw had been that you were never abused. At least that was what your file had said.

You had been able to keep it on the low for as long as you had been at the BAU. But you were terrified one of them would figure it out. That you would flinch at the wrong time, or you would do something to give it away.

You had gotten lucky and no one seemed suspicious. You ended up hiding in the back of the jet, curled up. No one bothered you. They all assumed that the case had just hit you harder. The one thing you hadn’t known though was that Hotch had been keeping a very close eye on you.

You two had become close, and would often hang out at each other's apartments. Spending tjme just talking about nothing and everything for hours. He had quickly become one of your best friends. You always went to him when you were upset.

But tonight, you just needed to get away.

Which is how you found yourself in this bar, downing your fifth drink. In the back of your mind, you knew that you wouldn't be able to drive home, or even walk without tripping over your own feet. You needed to call someone, and your drunk self called Hotch. While the phone rang you checked the time. 3 am. He was going to kill you.

“Hotchner.” You giggled drunkenly at his formal response.

“Why so serious bossman?” He recognized your voice immediately.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“M’great. Havin a blast.” You slurred.

“Are you drunk?” He asked and you giggled again.

“Mayyybe.” You slurred, concerning Hotch even more.

"Where are you?”

“Mabel's I think. But let me tell you. I think you need to come get me because there is no way m’drivin home.” He huffed as you heard noise coming from the phone.

“I'm on my way, stay there!” But you hung up. You were so excited to see him. Truth was you had definitely developed a crush for the man. Telling him that was going to be difficult, mainly because of your past, but also because he was your boss, and about 12 years older than you.

You waited for about 10 minutes before you heard the door ring as it opened and Hotch ran inside, frantically searching around. He found you and was quickly at your side.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You nodded sleepily. You always did get sleepy after your sixth drink. He gave you a concerned glance before reaching for your arm. You flinched slightly, but Hotch didn’t say anything about it. He picked you up because there was no way that you could walk, and carried you out to his car.

“You’re staying with me tonight.” He had said once on the road. You lazily watched out the window as buildings went by.

“M’kay.” You mumbled. Hotch sent you another concerned glance. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Usually when a case hit you hard, you would spend the night talking with him. He had been surprised when you hadn't shown up at his apartment. Even more shocked when you had called him drunk. He cared about you and it hurt him to see you like this.

Soon he found himself pulling into his driveway. He parked and quickly ran to your side of the car to help you out. He opened your door, and reached his hand over to unbuckle you when suddenly you shifted back. Your arms came up as if to block a blow and a whimper escaped your lips.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise!” You let out, sounding much more sober now. Hotch stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to do.

“Y/n, it’s me, can you hear me, its Aaron?” You moved your arms from your face, peeking out wide eyed. You pulled your arms the rest of the way down.

“Sorry Hotch. That was just, um, that w-was-” But he cut you off.

“You flinched.” He paused looking at the tears in your eyes, realizing that he needed to get you inside before you broke down in the car. “C’mon, let's go inside.” You bowed your head and nodded.

“Okay.” You said softly. He helped you out of his car slowly, and walked you up to his apartment. Once there, you plopped on his couch, sobering up for the conversation you knew was going to happen. He walked in the room, a glass of water in hand. He handed it to you, sitting next to you. he waited a few moments before beginning the inevitable conversation.

“Y/n, why did you flinch?” He asked hesitantly. He didn't want to push you, but he was concerned and he wanted to know. So you told him. Every detail, every heartbreaking moment. The bruises, the scars, the hospital trips. Everything. The reports, the disbelief, the arrest, the divorce. Then the even worse parts. The escape, the stalking, the attack, the death. Every little thing. You could feel the tears falling down your face as you spoke about your ex-husband.

Hotch sat as he watched the beautiful woman sitting in front of him break down. He didn't know any of this, none of it was in your file. He knew that Strauss had to know though, because you never would have been accepted without background checks and psych evals.

His heart broke a little more every time you shared another detail. On one side it felt so nice to get it off your chest. On the other hand, it was weird opening up to Hotch like this. He was seeing so much more of you than you had ever allowed anyone since your husband. He sat in silence once you finished speaking.

“Y/n. I'm so sorry. You never should have had to go through that.” And the tears came even faster, until they were silent sobs. Hotch, well he was more Aaron in that moment, brought you into his arms holding you tight, bringing you a comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay to cry.”He silently whispered into your hair. You looked up at him then, sighing softly at the beautiful man before you.

“Thank you Aaron.” He loved the way his name sounded coming from your lips. But before he could tell you, he looked down to find you asleep in his arms. And that's how he stayed until morning.

* * *

The next morning you awoke to a strange bed, with strange sheets, in a strange room. But one sniff and all you could smell was Hotch’s cologne. You soon recognized that there was a warm body behind your own, an arm wrapped around your middle.

You almost didn't remember what happened last night, but once you did, you began to panic. What if he hated you? What if he was disgusted by you? He probably had just pitied you.

He must have felt you shift, because he was waking up. His arm tightened around you, and he leaned up looking you in the eyes. He saw your panic and was alert rather quickly for someone who had just woken up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quickly, eyes scanning you frantically.

“You must be disgusted with me.” You paused taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry Hotch. I ruined your night and then cried all over you with my pathetic life story. And you probably just pitied me. I'm sorry.” He shook his head.

“Y/n, look at me.” You looked into his eyes. “I am and never will be disgusted by you. I am amazed by you. You are so strong and beautiful and you never deserved a thing that disgusting man did to you. I don’t pity you, not at all. All of this has just made me fall more in love with you than I already was.” You looked at him wide eyed.

“You love me?” He leaned a little closer.

“Of course I do. It's impossible not to.” You dared closer still as he moved a piece of hair from your face. The loving gesture warming your heart.

“Thank you. For everything. I love you too Aaron.” And he sealed your lips. It was intimate and explosive at the same time. And in the most cliche way, fireworks exploded as you kissed him.

You moved together passionately. Your noses bumped ever so slightly as he kissed you deeper than you had ever been kissed. He was an amazing kisser, to say the least. He broke away a moment later, smiling down at you.

“Give me a chance to show you what real love is, what it's supposed to be.” You nodded.

“Of course Aaron.” And you kissed him again, sliding your hands around his neck into his hair. It was the happiest you had been in a very long time.

So in hindsight, maybe getting drunk wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

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

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If i don't get to yours, I'm sorry!! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#aaron hotchner x reader #imagine #angst #fluff #hotch x reader #reader insert #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine

981 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

If We Were Fast Enough

Flash!Reader x Flashfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: I had this idea after watching a few clips of Flashpoint Paradox! Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Her hand was tightly clasped in his, eyes narrowed in sadness, but there was a pride in them; she felt the speed transfer between them, flowing through her veins and he said, “You’ve got my speed, honey. It’s up to you now.”

The tears that had welled in her vision tipped over and she whispered, “I can’t leave you here, dad. I—I can’t just run away.”

He shook his head. “You’re not running away. You’re surviving.” A groan escaped him, and the pool of blood seemed to double in size. “We’re running out of time. You’ve gotta go before the timeline collapses.”

“Where do I go?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “This universe is home.”

“Honey, Speedsters are Speedsters whichever universe we’re in.” he smiled weakly at her. “You’ll have a family wherever you end up.”

She gazed at him, breathing deeply as fresh tears grew in her gaze. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But you can do this.” he replied, pausing to look her over. “You look just like your mother, honey.” He smiled tearfully. “She’d be so proud of you if she were here now.”

Pulling the cowl over her head, she gave a watery laugh. “Mom always said I looked like you.”

“Nah. You take your speed and nature after me, but you are a spitting image of your mother.” A blast sounded in the distance and they both looked over, eyes widening as the white flash of light grew larger and larger. “You have to go. Now.”

Swallowing thickly, she leaned down and hugged him around his neck as tight as she could, inhaling the scent of ozone and spearmint for the last time. “I love you, dad. I love you so much.” Her fingers dug into his ruined suit as she cried. “I love you.”

He caressed the back of her cowled head. “I love you more, honey.” Pulling away, he leveled her with a firm look. “Now run, Lightning Flash. Run.”

The bluish-white lightning flowed across her body, and she turned, letting her feet carry her across the war-torn field, escaping the atomic blast. The world melted around her, a blur of memories surrounding her: her birthdays, her parents’ faces, her first stroke as a Flash, the start of the war, the deaths of her friends and family, everything up until now.

She was helpless to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks, the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest, and the booming in her ears as she ripped through the waves of time and the boundaries of space.

A shriek sounded behind her, and she turned her head, eyes widening. “Ah shit!”

The time wraith screamed at her again, reaching out to grab her and she just barely dodged it, turning back to face the flowing warp. She was close. All she had to do was get to the next time boundary and she could lose the wraith.

“Almost there!” she told herself as another bellowed sounded in her ears again, and with one final leap, she burst through the barrier, the waves collapsing around her. The shock of the blast sent her skidding along the ground, and she cried out as she rolled.

Shouts sounded in her ears, humans, but she was more concerned about the screaming time wraith. “I just lost everything! Can’t you just leave me the hell alone!” It shrieked at her again, advancing and anger welled through her as she pushed herself to her feet and she growled, “You wanna dance, you sonovabitch? Then let’s dance.”

Her eyes lit up in a white force and she darted past the wraith, hitting a point above it, then she darted past again, and again and again in a star formation, over and over until all that could be seen was a blur of blue and white. The clouds rumbled above, swirling faster and faster and she hit the top of the star, coming down at the wraith. A burst of lightning cracked from the sky, striking the time being just as she collided with it, and in a hail of blue and white strikes, the wraith exploded into smoking fragments.

As the smoke cleared, the human voices grew louder, but she was sprawled out on the ground, breathing heavily, her body crying under the strain. Someone placed their hand on her shoulder, worrying, “Are you alright?”

She nodded weakly. “Yeah…just gimme a minute. The five-star lightning strike always takes a lot outta me.” Shutting her eyes, she focused on breathing deeply.

“I’ve never seen anyone destroy a time wraith before.”

“It takes practice.” Craning her neck, she opened her eyes, and bit back a sob as the man’s face cleared before hers. “You’re this world’s Flash, aren’t you?” she whispered, “Barry Allen.” His blue eyes widened, and he nodded mutely. “I figured.”

“Who are you?” he asked. “What world did you come from?”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s gone now.” Meeting his gaze once more, she added, “But you can call me the Lightning Flash.”

“What’s your real name?” Barry quizzed.

(Y/N) Allen. And I’d tell you that but all it’d do is bring hurt to both of us.

“(Y/N) Sloan.” She laid her head down, closing her eyes. “I’m gonna take a nap for a while…I’m really…tired…”

His voice called out to her, but all she heard was a warbling noise as she drifted into darkness.

***

When she came to, her head felt like someone had thrown an overripe melon off a balcony ledge and watched it splatter across the ground. She groaned and forced her eyes to open, pushing herself up on her palms.

“Woah, woah, woah!” someone worried. “Take it easy there, Flashy.”

(Y/N) looked over, seeing a familiar green symbol, and an ever more familiar unmasked face. “I’m fine, Hal.”

He blinked. “You know who I am?”

“Please, I’d know that big head of yours from a mile away.” Smirking, she added, “I know everyone in the Justice League.” She grunted, pulling her left arm over her chest, feeling the taut muscles in her back ripple as she stretched them out. “Where am I?”

“The Watchtower.” Hal gazed at her curiously. “Man, when Barry said you knew who he was, I didn’t think he meant you knew all of us.”

“You sound upset that you didn’t get to introduce yourself,” she shot back with a pained grin, stretching her other arm. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll forget I know you, and you can reintroduce yourself.”

He chuckled and pressed a button on the side of the med bay bed. “Nah, no point now.” He looked down at the small light flashing. “Hey, she’s awake.”

In an instant, a sharp wind blew across the room and there stood the scarlet speedster without his cowl; moments later, the doors opened and in walked the top League members, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman.

(Y/N) threw her legs over the side of the bed as they walked over, waving off Barry and Hal who both reached for her, and stood on shaky legs. “Shit, I feel like a newly born giraffe.”

“You shouldn’t be up.” Barry frowned. “You practically tore yourself apart at the molecular level.”

“It was that or be taken by a time wraith,” she shot back, cracking her neck. “How long have I been out?”

“Eighty-six hours,” Batman said, taking her chin in his hand, tipping her head side to side as he shown a light in her eyes. “Your body’s been recovering slower than it should for a Flash.”

(Y/N) blinked. “The particular move does like Barry said it did. It tears the body at the molecular level to contain the speed force into one location.”

“It was dangerous,” Barry scowled, and she couldn’t help but laugh at this younger version of her father who was still just as serious.

“Being a Flash is dangerous.” She felt Batman pull away and she flexed her fingers. “I don’t use the move unless it’s a life-or-death situation.” Glancing at Barry, she questioned, “What earth is this?”

Before he could speak, Batman denounced, “You time jumped, and you don’t know what earth you came into?”

“I didn’t exactly have time to think out a plan while a nuclear blast was going off, Bruce,” she growled, glaring at him from behind the neon blue mask. “And to top it off, I had a time wraith coming after me. I wasn’t in a position to choose which earth I wanted.”

He went silent, gazing at her intently. “Whose names do you know of the Justice League here?”

(Y/N) looked around at the superheroes before her. “You’re all the same Justice League as my earth, but in mine, you’re retired, and your children run the show.”

“I’m sorry, children?” Hal interrupted. “We have—we have children?”

“Some,” she laughed. “Conner Kent is our Superman, Donna Troy is our Wonder Woman, Jason Todd is our Batman, Kyle Rayner is our Green Lantern, and Roy Harper is our Green Arrow.”

“And you?” Superman questioned.

“I’m my Justice League’s Flash. The Lightning Flash.” (Y/N) smiled wearily. “The fastest woman alive.” She toyed with the blue and white gauntlet. “At least now I am.”

“You said you were our kids?” Hal said. “Are you Barry’s daughter?”

The two Speedsters looked at each other and she answered calmly, “No. My transformation into the Flash was a freak accident, much like Wally West’s. That being said, I’m not related to the Flashfamily by blood.”

“Hmm.” Batman grunted, then turned, wandering off. “You need to rest up more then we’ll run tests.”

“Only if she consents.” Barry called out.

Bruce stopped, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he retorted, “She’s a Speedster from another universe. We need more information before we can let her loose in anyone’s city.”

As he wandered off, she placed her hands on her hips and griped, “God, I miss Jason being Batman. He’s less of a jerk-off about new things.”

Superman chuckled, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t take it the wrong way…(Y/N), was it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, (Y/N) Sloan.” Sticking her hand out, she added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmured, shaking her hand strongly, then he pulled away. “He is right though. You should get some more rest before you wander around the Watchtower.”

She waved it off. “I’ll be alright. If you’ve got a treadmill designed for Speedsters though, I’d like to run a bit.”

“I’ll show you where it is,” Barry answered, leading her from the group. As they walked down the hallway, she paused, leaning against the wall as a wave of nausea came over her; he caught it instantly. “Are you okay?” he frowned. “We should go back to the med bay.”

“No.” she grunted. “I’m fine. Just…just gimme a moment.” Shaking it off, she squared her shoulders. “I absorbed speed from the remaining Speedsters on my world before I left. It’s just taking a toll on me.”

“Why absorb their speed?” he asked, and she could tell from his voice that there was a level of suspicion in it.

“Because it was the only way to keep it from being stolen by our enemies as we were being slaughtered.” (Y/N) looked down the hall. “We can go now. It’s passed.” She bypassed him, wandering down the hallway, though she kept a hand on the railing the entire time.

***

It wasn’t a surprise that they sent her back to Central City with Barry after the few tests she’d let them run. Only tests on the outside, no blood or DNA samples for them to investigate. Barry’s apartment was cramped and there wasn’t room for them both to be in the kitchen, but she’d lived there before, so ducking under his arms and turning around him was second nature.

And Barry, bless the kindhearted soul he was, tried at every opportunity to make her comfortable in the home. (Y/N) respected it, knowing that even worlds apart, Barry Allen was still Barry Allen. She watched him sometimes. When he was sitting on the sofa or at the bar, flipping through paperwork or reading a book on physics. He always lost track of time, forgot what was happening around him, but his face showed ease. Peace. Like the world wasn’t on his shoulders.

It made her miss her father. It made her miss her family and friends. Her world. (Y/N) cried at night on the couch, silent tears dripping down her cheeks as she remembered every last moment of her family and friends’ lives. She’d been lucky in the end to come out unscathed. But her father, his friends, her friends, all dead. All killed in a pointless war that ended with the entire world blown to hell—and she was the only one left.

She sat beside the window, gazing down at the quiet street below her; she felt like crying, but by now, she’d cried out every tear, and all that remained was the hole drilled in her chest, empty and aching.

“(Y/N)?” Glancing over, she saw Barry coming out from his bedroom, brows furrowing at her. “Are you okay?”

Shrugging, she looked back out the window. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again, Barry.” It was hard to not call him ‘dad’ all the time, and weird to call him ‘Barry’.

She felt him sit opposite of her on the little bench. “Can I help you anyway?”

It took a while for her to speak, but when she did, her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s all gone. My life. All of it. I’m the only one left from my world.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m…alone.” His hand rested on hers and she felt tears well in her gaze. “I miss my family…and I miss my friends.”

She shook her head, looking at him. “Why my world? Why us?” tears slipped down her cheeks. “Everything was fine one moment and the next thing any of us knew, the world was going to war, and we couldn’t stop it.” A loathing laugh escaped her. “We were the Justice League. The proteges of the greatest heroes and yet we couldn’t stop war.”

(Y/N) wiped her tears. “We failed. I failed.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, (Y/N).” Barry murmured. “You know that.”

“It feels like it.” She countered. “What do I have to show for all my saving? A sole survivor stuck in a world that has no need for her.”

His eyes were narrowed in concern, the way her father’s used to do when she’d tell him of her troubles and doubts. “There’s always a need for us. Everyone one of us.”

“Speedsters?” she asked, and he squeezed her hand.

“If the universe wanted you dead, you’d be dead, (Y/N). But you’re here and you’re alive.” He smiled sadly. “You can’t outrun the past. But you can change the direction you’re running in.”

She gazed at him and for once in the past few weeks she’d been there, she felt her heart lighten. “Thank you, Barry.”

He smiled warmly at her and patted her hand. “Since we’re both awake…wanna go for a run?”

(Y/N) chuckled and nodded her head. “Yeah. It’d certainly help burn off the emotions.” She held out her hand and Barry looked at the ring on her finger.

“Wow, your ring is cool.” He took her hand, gazing intently at it. “I noticed your suit isn’t red like most of us Speedsters are. Yours is mainly blue and white.”

She nodded. “It was too complicated to call myself Flash since there were more than one, so I took the name Lightning Flash and designed my suit the colors associate with lighting.” (Y/N) vibrated and reappeared in her suit. “Blue and white.”

“With silver trimming,” he added, poking the mask she wore, and she batted his hand away.

“Hey, gold’s overrated.”

Barry’s face pinched as he vibrated into his suit. “Is not!”

“Is too! It’s the colors for the Seminoles.”

He placed a hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you just told me my colors were FSU’s colors. I’ve been fatally wounded.”

“You’re a drama queen,” (Y/N) laughed then started towards the door. “Race you to Coast City!”

Barry sped after her. “Why Coast City!”

“Because it’s California, man!” she watched as he matched her speed. “And Hal’s apartment always has Doritos!”

“I think you might have a crush on our resident Green Lantern,” Barry teased and (Y/N) gagged.

“Dude, gross.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you aren’t friends with your Green Lantern!”

“The best, but Kyle and I were only friends! My dalliance fell with another team member!”

“Batman?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Batman.”

“Oh. Lovely.” Barry sighed. “You and Jason Todd seem like a wonderful pair.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, Jason was actually a fantastic Batman. He loved it, oddly enough.”

“That is odd,” the Speedster countered. “Because as far as I know, none of the Batkids want to be Batman.”

She merely laughed in return, passing the Coast City sign.

***

“You know these aren’t…my world folks, right?”

He smiled, watching the group of young adults across the room laugh and joke around. “I know, but the lot of us thought it would be good if you got together with the age group of you own.” Barry looked over. “Besides, I think you’re going to fit right in with this world’s group.”

(Y/N) tipped her head side to side, huffing a laugh as Jason thumped Kyle in the side. “We’ll see.” She let Barry lead her over and the small group perked up at their arrival.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming on such short notice. I know you were busy.”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “So, why did the League invite us all?”

Barry gestured to (Y/N). “I’d like everyone to meet (Y/N) Sloan. She’s a Speedster who recently arrived on this earth.”

“Recently?” Roy asked and he nodded.

“There was a…problem on her earth.” He glanced at her and nodded, prompting her to speak.

“My world isn’t in the general stream of timelines anymore.” She smiled awkwardly. “I came here to…survive more or less.” Holding out her hand for one of them to shake, she said, “But it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“You know who we are?” Kyle asked as he shook her hand.

“Yeah. This world is surprisingly similar to mine, Kyle.” (Y/N) smiled with a little less awkwardness. “I know all of you.” Her eyes fell on Jason who was watching her closely, teal eyes narrowed in calculation. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He hummed. “Who are we over there?”

At that, all the awkwardness fell away. “You don’t wanna know,” she giggled, and his face dropped.

“No.” she nodded, and he whispered, “Me?”

“You.”

“I’m confused,” Roy interrupted, and Donna snickered.

“I think Jason’s the Batman of (Y/N)’s world.”

“HA!” everyone dissolved into hysterics as Jason proceeded to all but cry.

“I don’t wanna be Batman!” he whined. “Why am I Batman! Why not anyone else!”

(Y/N) laughed. “What are you talking about? You volunteered to be Batman.”

“Jesus, I must’ve lost my mind then,” Jason retorted, then looked at her. “Do I carry guns?”

“Non-lethal rounds.”

“Damnit.” He sulked. “Can’t freakin’ believe I’m the Batman on your world and I willingly put the suit on.”

“You were a good Batman,” she stated. “There wasn’t anyone I trusted more to watch my back on the team.”

He met her gaze, seemingly shocked, though it only lasted a minute as he quizzed, “So if I’m Batman, does that make all of us…?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yep. Wonder Woman, Superman, Green Arrow, and Green Lantern.”

“And you?” Kyle asked.

“Lightning Flash,” she answered coolly. “The fastest woman alive.” Meeting their gazes, she tipped her head down. “I know you’re not them…but I do hope we can be friends.” She smiled. “You can never have too many of those, no matter what world you’re on.”

Kyle looked over at Barry who was almost crying. “We get to keep her, right? Because if we don’t, I’m going to be very upset.”

(Y/N) snorted and wrapped a loose arm around his waist. “Don’t worry, Kyle. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” A growling sounded and her cheeks warmed as she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Sorry about that.”

Jason laughed, getting to his feet. “I guess Speedster stomachs are the same no matter what world you’re on.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Barry retorted, and the vigilante looked at her.

“Wanna annoy Batman and hang around Gotham City?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Wait for me!” Roy shouted, yanking his legs from the table, and soon the others were following.

Barry watched them as they walked to the Zeta-Tubes, laughing and ribbing one another like they’d been friends since childhood; someone nudged him in the side, murmuring, “She’s gonna be okay.”

He nodded as Hal settled beside him. “Yeah…I know she will.” He smiled as (Y/N) leaned into Jason’s side and brought a hand to her eyes, wiping the tears away. “She’s already fitting in better than I thought.”

“(Y/N)’s a strong woman,” Hal acknowledged. “She acts a lot like you in that aspect.”

“How so?” Barry inquired and the Lantern shrugged.

“Well, you can’t get her to stop attending League meetings no matter what Batman says, and she’s always ready to put herself on the line for us.” Hal huffed a laugh. “And she treats me like I’m an old man. I’m thirty-eight and she acts like I’m fifty-six.” He looked at Barry. “But she flows in the world like you, Barry. Her mannerisms, her styles, her speech, it’s all you.”

The Speedster frowned, quietly stating, “You think she’s my future daughter, don’t you?”

Hal shrugged. “She doesn’t look like you, but she��s comfortable around you. Like she knows she’s safe if you’re there with her.”

“Why lie about it though?” Hal could tell Barry was hurt. “Wouldn’t she want to tell me?”

“If you lost everything and showed up in another world where there was a parent still alive, would you act like nothing changed or would you keep it at arms-length?”

Barry sighed. “You’re…right.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even think of that.” His frown deepened. “She must hate looking at me though. I’m not her dad but I’m another version of him.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Barry.” Hal said, clasping his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “She’s just…trying to keep it all together and not mix this world with hers.”

“I feel connected with her.” He admitted. “The speed force works funny like that. We can feel other speedsters—we know their speeds and auras.” His voice became soft. “Hers feels like…like…”

“Like?” Hal encouraged and Barry sighed.

“Her aura feels like when I went back in time and saved my mom.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain but she feels like—”

“Like family.”

Barry gaped at Hal. “Yeah…that’s exactly it.”

Hal nodded. “She’s still your daughter even worlds apart.”

“What do I say to her?”

“Don’t.” he answered. “Let her come to you about it.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Barry agreed.

***

The group had dispersed as quickly as it had come together, not that she was overly upset—she knew they all had prior engagements and teams to be apart of, but she would’ve been lying to say that it hadn’t saddened her a bit. Jason and Kyle, however, seemed to be the only ones that were usually around, Jason more than the latter.

(Y/N) liked being around Jason. He was much more hotheaded than she was used to, but she decided that like the Flashes, Jason Todd was Jason Todd no matter what universe he was in.

He was a little more reckless than she knew, playing fast and loose with the game, but he knew where his feet landed with each jump, and he was there when she needed help, her the same.

It hadn’t taken him long to deduce that the two of them were more than friends in her world, making the joke that she was his Catwoman—she’d cried she’d laughed so hard, but it given them time to talk about everything that had happened to her and her world; most importantly, her father.

She watched as Jason reclined against the cool stone of the ledge, passing one of the wrapped cheeseburgers to her. “Thank you,” she murmured, unwrapping it.

“Mhm,” he hummed, sipping his milkshake, setting his hood beside him; he swallowed and looked over. “What’s on your mind?”

(Y/N) blinked. “What are you talking about?” he merely cocked a brow and she sighed. “I forgot you could read people well.”

“Well maybe if you were a book and not a pamphlet, it’d be harder.”

“Did you just call me simple?”

“Never.” He waved it off. “What are you thinking about?”

She sighed again and set her half-eaten burger aside, pulling her knees to her chest as she whispered, “My mom’s maiden name was Sloan.”

Jason arched a brow. “You go by ‘Sloan’. Was your mom married?”

“My parents were. She died from cancer when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry,” he lamented, and she smiled.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) looked over. “My last name is Allen.”

His eyes widened. “As in Barry Allen, Allen?”

“Yeah…my dad.”

Jason blinked. “Holy shit.”

“Mhm.” She propped her chin on her knees. “The reason I’m just as fast as Wally West in this world is because I absorbed my dad’s speed before I left mine.” (Y/N) gazed at the city. “And then I left him to die in the blast.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault.”

She huffed. “So Barry’s told me.”

Jason stared at her. “Why do you live with him in Central City?”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she answered. “And I…I—”

“You miss your dad.” He answered for her, and she nodded, feeling warmth gather in her eyes and she squeezed them shut.

“Yeah…it’s not him but…”

“It’s the only thing you’ve got that’s close enough to him.”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded. “You’re welcome to come live with me over here.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “I can’t do that, Jason.”

“Why not?”

She laughed. “We barely know each other.”

He shrugged. “We know each other enough.” Gazing at her, he added, “I’m not your world’s Jason, but we must be similar enough because I’ve seen and felt you fall behind me during fights, being at my six when I didn’t have it covered.” He smiled. “You know me, (Y/N), and I’d like to know you too.”

She merely gaped at him, then huffed a laugh. “I think that’s the most similar thing to my world’s Jason that I’ve heard you say.”

“Oh, come on!” he griped. “He couldn’t be that different from me!”

(Y/N) smiled. “Robins.”

Jason blanched. “I had Robins?”

“You had a son, who was exactly like you right now.”

“I wanna ask about the son, but what do you mean right now?”

“Oh, you know…hotheaded, anti-social, antagonistic.”

“You’re cute,” he scowled, then looked into the distance. “I can’t imagine bringing my kid with me.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Please, it took him like five years of complete begging on his knees before you’d even let him put on the suit, let alone go out with you.” She reached over and pushed hair behind his ear. “You were a good father…a good man.” Her expression turned sad. “I wasn’t fast enough to save either of you.”

Jason leaned into her touch, a frown on his face. “They know you tried, (Y/N).”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hope they knew that.” She shook her head as the tears started to spill over. “I lost everyone. You, JJ, my dad and all my friends.” (Y/N) stared at him through the tears. “How do I just start over after all that?”

He pushed the takeout bags out of the way and scooted over, pulling her to his chest; she buried her face in his suit and he propped his chin on the crown of her head. “I wish I had an answer for you.” He rubbed circles in her back. “But I do know that you can either let this keep you down, or you can get back up. Because if you don’t…then every life lost was in vain for you to survive.”

“I take it back,” she blubbered. “Your philosophical bullshit life lessons are the most Jason thing I’ve heard.”

He smiled, squeezing her tight. “That’s what we’re gonna call it now. Philosophical bullshit life lessons.” Jason pressed a kiss to her head. “It’s going to be okay, (Y/N). It’ll get better.”

***

It’d been a full year since she’d come to the new earth. She hadn’t moved in with Jason yet, but the moving boxes on the couch were the start of it—and she hadn’t told Barry she was leaving, or that he was her dad. (Y/N) wasn’t sure how to break that seal just yet.

She wandered around the tiny apartment, smiling at all the memories she’d made in the past year, and into his bedroom, where she paused at his dresser. A gold ring rested on top of it, and she picked it up, flipping it in her hand.

A woosh sounded from the door. “I’m home!” Barry’s voice trailed off in confusion and he called, “(Y/N)?”

“Here.”

He appeared in her peripheral, but she didn’t take her eyes off the ring, still gazing at the center stones. “There are boxes on the couch.”

“I’m moving in with Jason over in Gotham.”

“Oh…” he murmured, then took sight of what she had in her hands. “Is that—”

“Nora’s wedding ring?” she nodded. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know it was my mom’s?” Barry asked, stepping up to her and she finally looked at him, meeting his eyes.

“Because I had the same one in my world.” (Y/N) searched his gaze. “But you don’t seem surprised by that fact.” She sighed. “How long have you known?”

Barry’s face contorted in shame. “A few weeks after you got here.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

He shook his head. “Hal said—” he sighed. “I wanted to wait until you said something to me about it. I was afraid if I did, you’d run.”

(Y/N)’s brows pulled together, lips pulling down sadly. “Barry…”

“I know I’m not your dad,” he whispered. “But I know, (Y/N). I can feel it.”

She felt her lips wobble and before she knew it, she was throwing herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist as tight as she could. “Dad.”

Barry’s arms came around her, one holding the back of her head, the other in the middle of her back. “I’m here, (Y/N).”

“I missed you so much,” she cried. “I wasn’t fast enough to save them, and I couldn’t save you either.”

“No,” he said. “You did everything you could. I know you did.”

“But I wasn’t fast enough.” (Y/N) sobbed. “You had to give me your speed so I could run away. Like a coward.”

“Like a survivor,” Barry corrected. “You’ve never run away.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re a survivor, (Y/N). And your dad made sure of that.” He pulled away slightly, tears of his own dripping down his cheeks. “You’re fast enough.” She shut her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “And no matter what world you’re on, you’re still my daughter.”

A laugh that sounded much more like a sob escaped her and she hugged him again. “I love you, dad.”

Barry smiled, holding her tight. “I love you more, honey.”

436 notes · View notes

roscgcld · 3 years

Text

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATOR || chubby s/o

request: can you please do jjk character reaction to you gaining weight? i feel so insecure about it and it would be good to read something like that.. i love ur headcanons :-)

hey again! it's me with the gaining weight request :( i forgot to say that i want gojo's reaction to it :( his reaction to you being insecure of gaining weight and trying to lose it. thank u in advance ily :]

note: excuse me *bops you on the head* you cannot be insecure about something as small as weight. you’re beautiful 😠😠 and if anyone else says otherwise i will start swinging. who doesn’t like a little fluff to hold onto when they cuddle???? you’re perfect, and a little extra weight is not that bad! and i am happy that you like my headcanons love - makes me super happy to hear it from time to time >< i love you and send you positive vibes uwu ~

pronouns: she/her - because it came naturally, but i still love my non-binary readers i send you love and kisses and an apology ><

because of your boyfriend’s wicked good looks and his naturally flirty personality, it is no surprise that he is surrounded by a lot of equally beautiful people in your eyes

and even though he entertains them with no more than a charming smile and a few nice comments, that doesn’t make you any less insecure about something as small as your weight

also adding into your insecurities is his title as a gojo - the strongest sorcerer of the generation, and the next in line to become the head of the gojo clan. his elders are expecting him to marry young and start popping out kids

the women that his elders had sent to him as ‘suitors’ did not help too - they were all what you viewed as the epidemy of a perfect woman. pretty face, amazing body, and a soft spoken and gentle personality; acting and looking almost too fake and doll-like

gojo usually turns them away by giving them some half ass excuse about why he can’t date them, slamming the door in their faces after he pulls you towards him to press a passionate kiss to your lips; hand obviously resting on your ass

and even though that makes you super embarrassed, you just giggle softly against his lips at the offended gasp coming from the door; to which gojo will grin lightly into the kiss before deepening it quite excitely

but that never shuts your demons away - and one day you just found yourself looking yourself over the full length mirror hanging in your shared closet; a frown marring your features

you had always pride yourself on keeping in somewhat shape, but with the constantly on the go lifestyle you live, and the stress that had started to mountain at work; it is natural for you to have gained a little

and recently, as if your mind had decided to spite you, you had realised that gojo is surrounded with more and more people around him - beautiful people around him, to be exact

whether they are fellow super fit sorcerers, another random suitor knocking at the door of your shared apartment, or even just random strangers on the street - you have started to realise that gojo just naturally attracts attractive people like that into his life

people who would look amazing together with him. someone who isn’t you

you were so consumed with your thoughts that you had not heard gojo, who came out from the shower with wet hair and a pair of fitted briefs, looking around your empty bedroom in confusion

tossing the towel he was using to dry up into the laundry basket, he had peeked into the closet of your shared room curiously; only to see you dressed in nothing but a cute white bra and a matching set of underwear

he was about to tease you about it, playfully asking if you ‘trying to make us late for our lunch with the others’ when he noticed the frown on your face as you scanned yourself over; hands resting on your stomach

wordlessly gojo made his way towards you, your eyes snapping towards his huge frame appearing in the mirror as his arms wrapped themselves around you immediately; bright blue eyes blinking at you from the mirror whilst he rests his chin on your shoulder

“what’s wrong, bunny? you have a frown on your face, and you know that i hate it when you’re frowning~”

at first you felt embarrass to admit what was plaguing your mind, knowing that he was going to tease you about being so insecure about something like this - but gojo is stubborn

he is going to coax it out of you one way or another, so you better fess up with whatever it is that is bothering you

it took some time for him to coax the question out of you, but eventually you gave in; awkwardly meeting his eyes through the mirror as he raises an eyebrow at you; silently coaxing for you to tell him

“I just...i’ve wanted to ask you for awhile now....am i fat?”

your question actually had gojo freeze as he made the most confused face ever, hand cupping up to gently squish your face between his fingers as he pulled away a little

“who said that? am i going to have to kill someone?” gojo asks too casually, to which you widen your eyes before you wrapped your hands around the wrist holding your face, shaking your head

“n-no! not at all!” you tried to calm him down as he turns your body to face him, an even more confused look appearing on his face - and you know that it’s genuine since he looked like a confused child

this just made things worse for you as you rubbed your warm cheeks, looking away from his all searching eyes. “i-it’s just...i feel like i’ve gained some...and you’re always around really good looking people...women..”

gojo was genuinely confused as he frowns, to which you just gave him an asperated face. yet before you can say anything he made a noise of confusion; arms wrapped around your waist loosely. “is it bad that i didn’t even notice?”

whatever you wanted to say dried up on your tongue as gojo looks over at you and gave you a soft but genuine smile, hands reaching over to cup your cheeks in his hands

“i didn’t date you because of something so artificial, bunny.” he hummed as he playfully squished your cheeks together. “to be honest, i didn’t notice about that until you brought it up.”

you made a face at him, as if silently asking if he was being serious as he pulled a face on you as well. “i am being serious here, bunny. i really didn’t notice at all.”

he just pulls you into his chest and hold you close, smushing your face into his firm chest as he coos at you. “you should know better then to think that i care about things as fickled as weight~ i’m dating you because you can make really good onigiri.”

“so you are dating me for my cooking?!” you gasped at him dramatically as you pulled your face away to glare at him, to which he just grinned before he leans forward to press kisses all over your face; your annoyance melting away immediately

after that it sort of just been left forgotten - but gojo never forgot. He can never forget something like that

even before you told him, he could tell that something was bothering you for some time now; but he wanted to wait for you to tell him yourself

and like he said, he really truly did not realise it until you pointed it out; he had never really care about things like physical appearance. since at the end of the day, he only cares about your chemistry together

i think that gojo, even though he is very vain, does not necessarily care about looks when he dates. for him, he wants someone who can handle all sides of him instead of being with him him for face value

so that is all he cares about - and you were perfect for him. so do forgive him for not giving two shits about something as small as appearance lol

yet he knew that you were still thinking about it - so he went out of his way to make sure that you’re not going to do something that might bring you more harm

when he realises you are eating smaller portions, he might whine and pout at you with puppy eyes; demanding for you to take a few more bites of your food

and no one can really say no to him whenever he shines his beautiful eyes at them; so he always end up getting his way

he always make sure to get the food you like and stock up on the snacks you enjoy to eat; and heck, he will even go out of his way to visit you during your lunch break at work to bring you out on lunch dates whenever he can

he’ll even become more touchy; even more so than he was before. but now he made sure to keep his touches at places where you are the most self conscious about

grabbing your thighs when you two seat together, resting his hands on your love handles whenever he wraps his arms around your waist, resting on your stomach whenever you two cuddle together

he’s always shown his affection through physical touches, since mans will end up insulting you by accident because of his inability to read the room - he might make a very unsavory joke that makes you want to hit him over the head

but he does really care for you, and always goes out of his way to make sure that you’re more than aware that he does care for you; even if it means feeding you food in the middle of a restaurant if you refuse to eat more

when you confront him about it, he just gave you a soft but genuine smile before he rests his hands on your shoulders to shake you gently; as if he is shaking you back into reality

“i just know you well, bunny. and i know that you’re going to try and loose weight because you think that’s what i want.” he sighs dramatically before he tossed his arms around you, pulling you into him with a pout. “but you should know better than to think that i am going to leave you because of your weight.”

his words caused you to pause as he pulls away a little to press a soft kiss on your forehead, soft lips resting against your hairline for a few more moments as he tightened his arms around you

“plus, i see it as a bonus honestly. more places to mark and more of you to love. also - your ass looks amazing in sweats.”

“i should have known the inner perv will wiggle his way out.” you grumbled shyly as you tried to push your grinning boyfriend away, who just grins in response as he you closer, catching your wrists in his hands. “you know i speak nothing but the truth love~”

and even though gojo adopted such a teasing tone, you knew that he was speaking nothing but the truth. it may not be enough to calm your whispering demons, but it did make you feel a little more confident in yourself

gojo also continued to shower you in more and more attention, making sure you never forget just how much he loves you. and that you should never care about something as small as your weight

he loves you no matter what, no matter what size you are - as long as you are there to welcome him home after a long day of work with the all love you hold for him, that’s all he needs

519 notes · View notes

doyouknowbtsswag · 3 years

Text

Discs|Tommyinnit|

(Takes place as actual Minecraft)

Tommy adored listening to Music since he was younger because of his older brother, Wilbur. Tommy's childhood was something special to him. He had a loving family which consisted of a father and two older twins. His father better known as Philza Minecraft was the perfect father, he was protective of his children and made sure they weren't hurt. His older twins were almost like different people. Technoblade always had his guard up and never really shown his emotional side except when he needed to, which never really happened. Techno also loved Greek Mythology and could quote almost every story by heart. Wilbur was more into making songs and singing he never really enjoyed violence, so he would play on his guitar while Techno trained.

Aside from his family life he had two best friends which were just as important. Tubbo was his right-hand man and was the first person to talk to him. His other best friend, Y/n was the person who he could always lean on and wasn't afraid to show his raw emotions. Sure he wanted to show his tuff side but the day you saw him cry was the time Tommy realized he could rely on you the most. Don't get me wrong he could rely on Tubbo as well but he made sure to put on a tough act for the boy because of his family life.

Tubbo's family was not the best, his father would always yell and neglect him, let's not leave out the fact that he's a drunk. His father always likes that but after his mom died his dad was heartbroken and it affected him he didn't pay attention to how his son felt. Being 6 years old and his mother passing away Tubbo didn't have the best childhood. So Tommy made sure Tubbo could lean on him.

Tommy was certainly the ring leader of the gang. He always suggested pranks and decided on games to play. Tommy wasn't happy he was younger than Tubbo but was happy he was older than Y/n. He always felt the need to protect you with every strength he could muster. His favorite game showed that. They played a game many kids played, the Knight, Princess, and the villain. Of course, Tommy was the knight and you were the princess tubbo would be the villain but sometimes Wilbur would play with them. Wilbur being 11 towered over them and was much stronger than the little kids which would make it 10 times more fun.

On his 7th birthday, he had a small party nothing too big, just his family, you and Tubbo. Tubbo couldn't get him much so he made Tommy a bandana. Even though Tubbo felt bad he couldn't give Tommy anything grand Tommy appreciated the bandana and put it around his neck showing Tubbo he liked it. Wilbur, Techno, and Phil gave him a copy of the family photo. It was rare to be able to take a photo so getting a copy of one made it just as great of a gift. Then the final gift was from you. You knew he loved music so you tried to get at least one rare Disc, but you managed to get two.

He stared at the Discs in amazement quickly running to the old jukebox his father owned. He put in the disc Cat. He smiled at the sound of the music, let's just say it was his favorite birthday gift he ever got. He hugged you which made you blush but you hugged back smiling. The others were awed at the sight. Wilbur managed to take a quick picture and made a mental note to get it printed out. It cost a lot but the now 12-year-old would do anything for his little brother.

A few months later Tommy woke up to arguing between his brothers and father. He silently stepped down the stairs making sure to go as slow as possible.

"What is up with you lately dad! All you do is stay in your room! You left us to take care of Tommy ever since you got that stupid letter a few months ago! Tommy hasn't noticed because of us!" Techno whisper yelled trying not to wake up Tommy which was a little too late.

"Not only that but you try to redeem yourself by giving us small gifts! Sure I appreciate it but I know why you're doing it! You don't want anyone noticing you've been acting suspicious lately" Wilbur crossed his arms.

"Keep it down you're gonna wake your brother" Phil whispered trying to stall the sudden outburst by the twins.

Tommy ran upstairs quietly putting clothes on to run to your house. He climbed out his window carefully. He would occasionally climb out his window if he was grounded to walk to Tubbo's house or your house. Right now he was on the way to yours.

It took him 10 minutes to get to your house. He grabbed a small pebble and threw it at your window. He threw 2 more before you opened the window looking down at the boy.

"Tommy what are doing here," I said watching the boy climb up to my window. He looked upset. Sitting in my bed.

"They're fighting again..."

"Whos fighting?" I asked sitting next to him.

Tommy was looking down tears streaming his face.

"My brothers and dad" He whispered. "It happened last week too but it wasn't that bad but they've been fighting more recently and I don't like it" The 7-year-old sniffled.

"Do you know what they were arguing about?" I asked placing my hands gently on his.

"My dad has been acting differently apparently" He sighed wiping his tears " I didn't notice but apparently it's so obvious to Techno and Wilbur"

"Maybe your dad is working on something really important," I said not knowing how to fully answer.

"Probably" He muttered

"Hey, I know how to cheer you up!" I said running over to one of my chests.

I looked through a few chests trying to find a music disc to play for Tommy. When I finally found it I ran to the Jukebox and put it in the slot. The disc played Chirp throughout the room. I look over and saw Tommy smiling just a bit.

"How do you have so many Discs," Tommy asked standing up walking to the Jukebox.

"My grandpa had a bunch before he died, he gave them all to me because when I was younger all we did was listen to the discs" I smiled at the memory.

"So why did you give Cat and Mellohi to me?" He asked

"Because your my favorite person in the world" I looked at him smiling I could see his face turn red which made me giggle.

"You're my favorite person in the world too," Tommy said pulling me into a hug to which I hugged him back.

"Thank you..."

"Your welcome Toms"

He pulled away from the hug and looked out the window seeing the sun slowly rise.

"Oh crap, I have to go before I get caught" He panicked running to the window.

"wait!" I ran and grabbed Chirp from the Jukebox running to the window hanging me the disc. "Take it"

"But I thought-"

"Let that disc remind you of me if you ever need to let out your feelings"

"Thank you" He smiled kissing my cheek then climbing down the house.

"Thomas!" I shouted but still smiling.

"Bye" He grinned waving

"Be safe" I whispered watching him run off to his house.

Tommy ran as fast as he could to his house before the sun could rise any longer. He climbed up to his window jumping into his room. He was holding the disc carefully when he was climbing so he didn't scratch it. He laid in bed out of breath from running but thank god he made it back before anyone noticed.

A few weeks later you suddenly stopped coming over to play with him and Tubbo. Tommy just thought you had something to do with your family as you did every so often. Days turned into weeks. He sat every night looking at the picture Wilbur took on his birthday of you guys hugging. It didn't sit right that you hadn't shown up or even sent a message that you were away. It confused him.

The next day he begged his family to take him to your house. Yes, he knew how to get to your house but he still wanted one of his brothers to go with I'm knowing his father was still busy. Tommy asked Wilbur in the morning but Wilbur said he was busy today and maybe tomorrow. Tommy had to go today no matter what so he ran to Technoblade's room knocking on the door. Only for Techno to say he was busy and not to bother him.

He sighed knowing he would have to go himself. He put his jacket on and shoes. He walked out of the house and made his way over to your house. Tommy ran to your house concerned, he had a bad feeling and wanted to make sure you were okay.

He saw your house and sprinted faster when he arrived he walked to the door seeing it partially opened. He opened the door all the way seeing the inside of the house destroyed. He walked inside looking around.

"Y/n?" He said seeing shattered glasses on the ground.

"Y/n?!" He saw blood on the ground which made his breath hitch.

"Y/N!" He ran up to your room panicked only to be faced with a pool of blood on the floor.

"No no no no no no," He said his body giving out on him making him fall to the ground blood getting on his clothes and shoes.

He didn't bother to get up and leave. He physically couldn't get up his body was in a paralyzed state so he was forced to lay where you possibly died. his breath was heavy and it was like he had no oxygen in his lungs. he wanted to cry for help but the way he was breathing, it was useless to try. He eventually passed out due to a lack of oxygen.

When he woke up it was night. He still laid in your bedroom but this time he could actually breathe. He then realized he had been gone all day and didn't know what time of night it was. Tommy slowly got up looking at his bloodied clothes. His tears silently fell as he made himself walk back to his house. He wasn't bothered by the noises of the creatures around the area. He couldn't care less if he got hurt because he had a bigger wound that no one would ever be able to fix.

The house lights were on and he saw people sitting outside. He walked closer and saw his family with worried looks on their faces. When they heard footsteps they looked to see Tommy slowly making his way to the door. Wilbur immediately ran up to the little boy pulling him into a hug.

"You had us all fucking worried!" He pulled away from the hug only then noticing the blood. "Holy shit your hurt"

Tommy just stood there no words came out of his mouth as his brother brought him inside to check his "wounds". He was sat on the kitchen counter as Phil raced to grab the first aid kit. when Wilbur went to take Tommy's shirt off to clean the "wound" He says nothing but dried blood.

"Tommy?..."

"She's gone....."

"What?"

"Y/N IS GONE!" His sudden outburst made the 14-year-old jump.

"She's dead Wilby" He sobbed Wilbur pulled the boy into a hug and tried calming down the younger boy. Tommy eventually fell asleep and Wilbur changed him into his pajamas taking the bloody clothes to the washer.

10 years later he sat in exile he lost his precious Discs and was now sent out of the land that he built with Wilbur and Tubbo when Phil went missing and Technoblade left. Wil eventually died by his own father. It was the first time he had seen Phil in 10 years only to see him kill one of the only people who stuck by him.

He then lost Tubbo who exiled him for a stupid prank he did on George's house with Ranboo. Tommy wasn't the type to snitch on someone so he took the blow for Ranboo. He had officially lost everything he ever cared about, the only thing he had left was a picture of you and him hugging when he was 7 years old.

"Tommy?...."

"Y/n?!"

------------------------------------------------------- Just thought of this randomly. ✨YOU ARE AMAZING AND PERFECT THE WAY YOU ARE! YOU ARE WORTH IT ON SO MANY LEVELS✨

#tommyinnit x reader #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit #tommyinit mcyt #tommyinit dsmp #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #minecraft #philza minecraft #philza #tubbo mcyt #mcyt #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you

152 notes · View notes

kimnjss · 3 years

Text

no right answer | knj

⤑ series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: angst... nd that’s pretty much it :/

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 7.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: daddy jung makes an appearance... joon still doesn’t know how to communicate. yns feelings are hurt once again. they internally ramble a lot :/ and hoseok has a girlfriend.

⤑ chapter song: meet me in amsterdam - RINI

⤑ A/N: heyy! nothing much to say, sooo! enjoy nd let me know what you think x

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:10

The fact that you've shown up on Hyungwon's arm sets your father off way before you're entering the hall. You can tell by the pulsing of the vein above his brow, the grit in his teeth when you pass him, Hyungwon making a show of wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you inside before your father can get a word in.

Although, you're sure he'll find his opportunity at some point tonight.

Just as expected, gossip blog journalists, reports, the regular old press are all lining the front hall, waiting patiently for a word from the man who made this night possible. At least, that's the premise they're hiding under – it was more than obvious that they were silently hoping to witness something, anything that could be a headliner in the morning.

You do as you've been told, smile brightly at everyone that approaches, introduce Hyungwon as a close friend, chat up the new artists that your father's company plan to release in the upcoming months. Words flowing from your lips effortlessly, trained to dodge every prying question, every backhanded compliment. The practiced smile doesn't falter once.

Not even when the demanding flick of the fingers comes from your father across just a few feet away, behind his back of course, out of view from the woman reporter he's chatting with. Summoning you over silently, his first choice nowhere in sight. With a huff, you're politely ending the meaningless babble of the tag on your dress.

Hand pressed lightly to Hyungwon's chest, his arm doesn't drop from around you as the two of you make your way over to your father. Only making it halfway before he's shooing Hyungwon away, with the same discreetness he used to call you over. “I'll meet you inside,” You're mumbling with a roll of your eyes, easily able to guess that he's started his bullshit early.

Hesitant at first, but he's soon releasing you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head that has the cameras around flashing. Great. The apologetic look on his face washes the scowl from your features. His lips shifting into a sheepish smile while he reaches his hand up to ruffle your perfectly styled hair. That has questions flying from the crowd, demanding to know if the two of you were an item.

“I'll see you inside,” He says with a curt nod of his head, turning to finish his journey into the hall. On his way, he's swept up by a man with a million questions and a mic. No time to worry about that now, instead you take the place beside your father.

And he pulls this surprised expression as if he didn't expect you to just show up. “Oh, there she is! We've been talking about your new position. Would you like to chime in?” You wouldn't have been asked to 'chime in' if the appropriate response hadn't been hammered into your head on the way over here.

Practiced smile. “It's an honor to work so closely with such great artists. Their work is promising and truly inspiring. We have a lot of plans for them in the future that I'm sure will be nothing short of impressive...” You begin to drown yourself out, thoughtlessly speaking as your eyes wander around the room. Seemingly on their own accord until your sight is fixing on someone.

Okay, not just someone. Namjoon. He looks nice. Although, you can tell he's wearing the same suit that he had worn to Jungkook's release. Did he only have one nice suit? You'd have to make a note of that for... quite literally shaking the thought from your head, you're turning back into the conversation. Laughing at something you don't even find funny. All while stealing glances across the room, not being able to keep yourself from wondering if he was stealing glances too.

He was. Like really bad too. From the moment Joon had stepped into the building, his eyes were finding you. Guided by the loud chatter around you, looking in time to catch the gentle pat of your boyfriend's hand on your head. The way you seemed to melt at the simple touch, he could do that. He was sure of it.

And then he can't tear his gaze off you. While you pull that fake smile of yours, only half-listening to the words that are being said to you. Laughing flatly and leaning into your dad, keeping up with the perfect father/daughter image that he had no idea was an act until he was meeting you. Talking to you. Now it was obvious. Even from across the room, he could tell that you were faking.

That you'd much rather be anywhere else.

“Ah! There's my little prodigy,” Your father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, just in case they missed the dramatic cheers that echoed the moment he was stepping out of his car. Hoseok was here. A pretty redhead latched to his side, a sight that your father is surprised to see. He hated surprises.

Nevertheless, he's embracing your brother into a tight hug. Which to the press looks like an adorable father and son moment, but you know better. You've been on the receiving end of that hug before and judging from the frown that flashes over Hoseok's features, he's in trouble. But later, of course, there are millions of eyes watching right now – so the interview goes on with loud laughs and large smiles.

And for once, you're not the only one that's faking it.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:49

“Come sit, Yn. Dinner is about to be served,” He doesn't leave any room for argument with the tone that he uses and you find it funny that he thinks that you're not going to try. “No thanks, I'm going to sit with my date,” Hyungwon has found his place amongst the other artists of his status, chatting loosely with them as he waits for you.

A timed twitch of your father's brow, he'd usually rely on Hoseok's easy coaxing to get you to comply without making a scene. But that trick is out of commission. Sat close with his pretty girlfriend, flirting openly. Ooh, the look on your father's face when he was introducing her to reports as his girlfriend. Not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. 'Her? She's my girlfriend. Ti-lee. Isn't she gorgeous?'.

Didn't even spare a glance in your dad's direction, heart-shaped eyes saved for his girl. Expertly ignoring the subtle glares he was being sent whenever there was a chance. Your brother might be your hero. Seriously.

He's not about to beg you to come sit at the family table with him and Hoseok, that could risk giving away there is a reason why you wouldn't want to sit there in the first place. So instead, he's pushing a tight-lipped smile onto his lips, nodding his head before turning around. Exactly.

Hyungwon stands as you approach, pulling your chair out like a true gentleman. Leaning over to press his lips to your cheek and drop his arm around your shoulders, easily tucking you into his side. “How'd it go? Who's that with your brother?”

“His girlfriend. Can you believe it? Hoseok brought someone that wasn't approved and cleared by our dad first,” The shock in your tone matches the look on his face, which quickly melts into a smile.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips, his head shaking from side to side. “This isn't gonna end well,” His shoulders shake with his laughter, hands reaching to lift his glass. You giggle beside him, knowing all too well how right he is. Whether it was now or later, this was going to explode into a big mess. You were just glad you were in the clear for once.

Dinner starts.

Hoseok is between bites of his Wagyu steak when he's being hit with the dry monotone voice of the man beside him. A tone that he's not at all used to when he's being addressed by his father. It's usually reserved for you. “Where'd you find this girl?” He doesn't even bother to whisper, Ti-lee no doubt hearing him.

“I met her,” He feels it would be a bad idea to say that he met her at a party. Much less a release party held at the company. He knew all too well how his father felt about you mixing work and pleasure, he wasn't going down that lane.

Thankfully, he's not so much interested in the where, but more so the why. Mind reeling with all the upsetting outcomes that can come from this. Some random girl slipping in could potentially ruin everything he carefully constructed for his son's life. He knew first hand how vicious women can be when money's involved. “What does she do?”

“She's a model,” Hoseok's sweating, fumbling for the right string of words that can help him paint Ti-lee in an admirable light. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a great girl, all of the things you'd want your girlfriend to be. But his father's expectations were high, there was no telling what would be a deal-breaker.

He scoffs, head bowed to bring attention back to his plate in front of him. “That's not a real job,” He laughs to himself, head shaking in disbelief. There was no way his son would be so stupid... to think he could be with a model? The field that aged quickly, chewed up and spit out money-grabbing woman chasing youth. Nope, not his son. “We'll talk about this later,”

Putting an end to the conversation before Hoseok can get another word in. He's back to his meal, acting as if he hadn't shaken up his son's entire world. 'We'll talk about this later,'. Never was a good sign. Always met with an ultimatum when it came to you. He tries to act cool, be mindful of the millions of eyes watching at all times. But it's hard to hide the twinge of annoyance souring his face.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even get the chance to introduce Ti-lee properly, give his dad a chance to get to know her. Then he'd understand how easy it is to fall for her, Hoseok stood no chance when it came to her. And he didn't even get to say that, to show him why he just had to bring her around. Present her as his girlfriend, because he was so proud. So proud and his dad didn't even care.

It was not fair.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 20:17

As the night moves on, Joon finds himself searching for you through the crowd. His eyes find you all throughout dinner, half-listening to the chatter from Taehyung and Yoongi and watching you. Even when you move to dance, hand resting delicately over Hyungwon's bicep, so very clearly showcasing who you're here with tonight. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Left standing as more and more people spread around the hall, busying themselves with light conversation as the musicians play louder for the many people who have decided to move on to the dance floor. You're at the center of them all, smiling prettily up at your boyfriend. Laughing, a very real laugh that he didn't realize he missed until now.

God, he missed you so much. And it was worse because you were right there. Right in front of him, laughing and smiling and being yourself. But he felt like now for some reason, he couldn't be apart of that. That you didn't want him to be because he couldn't get it together. Because he couldn't say what was on his mind.

So, now he was stuck watching you. Admiring you from afar and wishing that it was him in the place of the man you brought tonight. Exclusively. All he wanted was to be yours exclusively. He knew that wouldn't happen so easily... or at all.

“You're actually staring, dude. What's with you?” Hoseok's voice is breaking through his thoughts, two glasses of brown liquor in hand. Hand outstretching in offering, Joon thanks him with a smile and a nod of his head.

Embarrassingly, pulling his gaze away. He knew he had been doing it but had no idea that it was that obvious. Had you noticed too? Caught him staring while he was so lost in his thoughts of you. Not likely. You hadn't looked his way at all tonight. He was sure of it. “She doesn't look so annoying, tonight.” His shoulders lift in a shrug, that has Hoseok's eyebrows raising.

The number of times he's complained to your brother about how much you bothered him.

Who would've thought this would be the outcome. At first, all he wanted was for you to leave him alone. Bottle up your crush and give him some space so he can concentrate on his work. On what was important and now... now he was dying for a chance to go back. Before things got complicated and he found it hard to say what was on his mind.

It used to be so easy to just tell you to leave him alone, to take part in the back and forth banter that he never really realized was just foreplay. Now, things were so strained and he was the cause of it. Because he had gotten in his own way, confused you and now you were pulling back. As you should.

What was he supposed to do, though? You were with someone, seemingly happy. The way you dealt with relationships and... love, was much different from what he was used to. And he was in no place to ask you to change that for him, just as he wouldn't want you to ask him to change for you.

So then what was left? Leaving each other alone, keeping his feelings bottled up because telling you would only make matters worse. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Thought it would be easy to just pick up and move on without a word, but after that night with you, he should've known there was no turning back. Being close to you like that, of course, he'd want more.

He's barely registering Hoseok's question beside him, between the sips of liquor. “What is she then?” You were a lot of things. Except his. Never realized how devastating that would be until recently. Until you weren't a constant anymore, because he messed up.

And seeing you tonight, in that dress. Legs peaking out with each bold step of your pretty heels. He's felt those legs, wrapped firmly around his waist and beneath his hands. Soft. And warm. A lot like you. How could he not look? When you were right there being everything he wanted, how could he not look?

“She's... kinda sexy.” Eyes widening at his own words, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “I don't know, it was just an observation,” He rushes out, a light tint taking over his cheeks.

Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to look up at the man beside him. It's funny, despite the height difference, Hoseok still maintains his intimidating aura. Could have anyone quivering with a single glance. Well, anyone would didn't know how sweet and gentle the guy really was. Still, he's got an image to upkeep. “Did you just call my sister sexy?”

Joon is amongst the select few that know the big and scary Jung Hoseok is not as big and scary as he likes to act. So he doesn't falter, much. “She is sexy. I mean, look at her.” He's gesturing to the dance floor, where you're being spun and dipped. “When did that happen? She's never...” Speaking mainly to himself, Joon's words trail off as he watches how good you look when you dance.

“Alright. I feel like I should tell you not to check out my sister right in front of me,” He had been joking at first, but the guy was basically drooling over you. Didn't know if he should provide a handkerchief or rip him a new one.

Joon's letting out a soft laugh, lifting his glass to take a sip from it. Attention shifting back to his friend. “You're twins. It's like I'm checking you out.”

This has Hoseok bursting into laughter, a look of disbelief taking over his features. “That does not make it any better!” Despite the warning, his eyes move to find you again. Only to find you're not where he had seen you last and your boyfriend was nowhere insight as you made your way over to where he stood.

A gasp is escaping from Joon's lips before he has a chance to mask it. “Oh God, shut up. She's walking over here,” His hand reaching to hit Hoseok's chest, signaling for him to straighten up as he does the same. “Quick. Pretend I said something funny,”

He's not granted the laughter that he expects, instead, a confused expression takes over Hoseok's features as his sister approaches. “Our father would like to speak with us upstairs,” You don't even spare a glance in Joon's direction.

“What for?” You shrug. Of course, you wouldn't know something like that. You never knew the reason behind random summoning, just grew accustomed to despising them. “We can go when Ti-Lee comes out of the bathroom,” He's really doubled down on this girlfriend thing, it seemed.

With a nod, you turn to walk away. The familiar sound of Joon's voice stopping you, “You look pretty, Yn.” You hate the way your heart instantly reacts to the compliment. The three words that you've been hearing all night because of course, you'd look pretty. But for some reason, it feels different coming from him.

But, you wouldn't allow yourself to be swooned by that. He's made it clear where he stands when it comes to you. “Thanks. My date thinks so too,” It's sad how you enjoy the annoyed expression that flashes over his features, quickly being masked by surprise.

“Oh. You brought a date?” As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't spent the majority of the night watching you. So obviously, too. Did he think you wouldn't pick up on it? Though, you'll play along. “Mhm. Hyungwon. He's over there,” You point him out with an outstretched arm, leaning against the bar with the task of getting you a drink.

Most times, Namjoon was pretty good at keeping his thoughts from slipping. Screening them to make sure that he doesn't say anything compromising. Something that he finds harder to do with you involved. “Why'd you bring a date?” Why wouldn't you bring a date? Is on the tip of your tongue.

He's all but screamed that he wanted nothing deeper with you, what with his refusal to speak on things that are clearly bothering him. He was interested, but not as interested as someone would like. And too much of a coward to say so. What was he so afraid of? It's not like you were some pure inexperienced child, you've gone through one night stands before.

If that was all he wanted, he should've just said that. Instead of leaving you to come to the conclusion on your own. Putting together the pieces he so begrudgingly gave to you. Nevermind what Yoongi claims, what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't matter. What matters is how he acts on it and Namjoon hasn't acted at all.

And you certainly weren't going to be the only one out in the wind. “It's a ball? I need someone to dance with... who are you gonna dance with?” A subtle jab, as if you hadn't noticed that he showed up with nobody on his arm tonight.

“I don't really dance much,” His reply is sheepish and meek, you barely hear the words coming from his lips.

You're letting out a hummed sigh and a practiced smile, “That's too bad. Maybe, I'll let you twirl me a few times. It is a charity event after all,” With that you're walking away, promising that you'll follow your brother upstairs when he goes and not sparing another glance at Namjoon.

Hoseok manages to hold his laughter until you're out of earshot, bending forward as he clutches his side. Thick chuckles falling from his lips and filling the space. Joon stays stood beside him, a glare shadowing his features, knowing that he's laughing at him and not being able to be mad at it. The entire situation was laughable in the worst way.

“Oof,” He breaths out after calming, straightening, and letting out a deep breath. “You really pissed her off. What did you do?” He almost delves into all the issues in his head with your brother but holds back for the sake of not getting himself in trouble. Admitting that he actually slept with you to your brother... not a great idea.

Instead, he decides to go with someone he knows Hoseok already knows. “ think she's still pissed I called her superficial... and self-centered,” Not his brightest moment, he was upset, but that wasn't an excuse. It wasn't something he made up, the evidence was right there. But you weren't only that, he knew that.

And chose to ignore it.

“That'll do it.” Hoseok answers with a sure nod. “She hates when people tell her about herself. Especially if they're right,” Of course, he knew how his sister was. How you acted and treated the people around you. You were everything a superficial, self-centered person could be.

Only the people close to you, the people that you felt comfortable with knew that there was more to it. So keen on keeping everyone at an arm's length, you choose to allow the immediate assumption pass, to keep from getting too close. It was better that way. Not often did you meet someone you desired to get to know deeper, to know you.

It felt like that with Joon sometimes, a lot of the time. And you did try to get him to see that you weren't what everyone thought, but it didn't work as well as you had hoped. You were still the same to him.

He's letting out a huff, fingers pushing through his hair. Frustration creeping up the back of his neck. “I didn't think she'd take it to heart! It was just an observation, I didn't mean...” He didn't mean to hurt you, wouldn't imagine it. He wished he could just tell you everything.

How he felt about you, how badly he wanted to be with him – and wanted you to want to be with him. If only it would ruin everything. Although, everything was already ruined... right?

“Why do you feel bad about it now?” Hoseok is fully invested in this conversation now, picking up on the pieces he's missing in the story of you and Namjoon. “Is it because she looks pretty and she's with some guy?”

“No!” There was more to it than just jealousy. As much as he wanted to be in Hyungwon's place, there... was there? “I mean.. yeah?” No, there had to be more. He didn't just want you because he didn't have you. He wanted you because you were you and he didn't quite get it, but he felt it whenever he was with you. It had nothing to do with being jealous. “No! Because she's... she's, her, you know? And she's nice to me, right? So I shouldn't be mean to her?”

Much harder to put into words under your brother's expectant gaze. How was he supposed to explain his feelings when he didn't quite understand them himself. When he hasn't even told you about them properly.

Realizing, he's not going to be getting any more information out of the man, Hoseok is nodding. Eyes searching to find his girlfriend in the crowd, only now remembering that he was expected to meet with his father. “Look, if you think you should apologize, go for it. But don't fuck with her head,” A pointed finger follows his stern warning.

No room is left for Namjoon to respond, Hoseok offering a quick goodbye before he stalks off to wrap himself around the pretty redhead he first arrived with. Whispering something to her before leading her out of the hall and you're just a few steps behind them.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 21:09

You're told to leave the moment your father's eyes set on the woman wrapped around your brother's waist. Deciding that he'd much rather discuss a different matter tonight than what he had originally planned when he called the both of you away. You protest, of course, not wanting to leave him to get in trouble. Even though, he's never done the same for you.

The threats and ultimatums that you knew were coming, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Would more than likely bend at your father's will because he knew nothing else. Ready to do whatever to keep the peace, even if it was against what he wanted.

Hoseok is the one that asks you to leave, though. Shooing you away with a reassuring smile and while hesitant, you still leave. Offering a soft smile over to Ti-lee who looks as nervous as ever.

The first person you lay eyes on when you're reentering the room is no other than Kim Namjoon. Stood in the same spot as before, now engaged in conversation with both Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes lift, just for a moment, before he's spotting you. Offering up the first smile he's shown you in the past few days.

And you hate how quickly your body reacts to the twitch of the lip. You should be focusing on moving on, forgetting everything that happened between the two of you. It was nothing. He surely thought so, no matter how many lousy smiles he flashes in your direction. It didn't change anything. He didn't want to be with you.

Ugh, but you wanted him to be.

More than ready to stamp your foot and ball your fists until you were getting what you want. Yet, you had an inkling that no matter the size of your objection – it still wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change his mind or his heart. It was a fluke, it had to be. Why else would he have pulled back the way he had.

Which is the reason you can't fathom why he'd be making his way over to you right now. Slipping through the crowd of strangers until he's standing right in front of you, with that same smile on his face. “Can I dance with you, now?” His voice just above a whisper and you really wished he'd stop confusing you.

And you wish, you'd stop letting him. “Sure,”

He takes you and leads you into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand placed lightly on the middle of the back as the two of you move to the music. His hand is so big in your hand, the feel of it reminding you of your first night together. Your first date. Hardly two weeks ago, but it felt like much longer.

You don't speak for a while, allow yourself to imagine that it is like this. Simple. That you're with him and he wants to be with you, despite whatever's holding him back. That he talks to you, instead of leaving you in the dark. That you're happy. As pathetic as it may seem, you were always happy with him.

Never even had to do much, he just knew how to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was catching the subtle blush on his cheeks when you teased him or when he was letting himself go around you, being bold. You liked it most when he threw caution to the wind, your heart did too.

And you had thought you'd be seeing much more of that. But maybe you were wrong...

The sound of him clearing his throat, pulls you from your thoughts, training your full attention on him. He looks nervous. “Did... Did I hurt your feelings when I said... those things?” How fragile did he think you were? Expected to have you curled up crying over being told something that you've known your whole life?

Yeah, right. Your feelings weren't hurt, but that didn't mean it was something that you'd like to hear from someone you thought was starting to see you differently. Someone that you thought liked you. It was annoying.

“No. I love being insulted,” Words dry, yet dripping with sarcasm.

He sighs, “I wasn't trying to insult you,”

The humorless laugh that leaves your lips is unexpected even to you, but you do little to suppress it once it slips. “You were trying to compliment me?” Bewildered, of course. If that was his idea of a compliment... well, maybe you had him pegged wrong.

“No. I just... I noticed, so I said it,” Namjoon is quickly realizing that's not the best answer in trying to mend things. Even though you tried to act as if you didn't care, it was obvious to him that his words held some gravity to you. That it bothered you to hear that from him, he could see through your entire act.

Calling you out on it would just lead to more mess, though. “I'm not saying you're not that, we both know you are. I just shouldn't have judged you on it. You're a lot more,” He had misjudged you when you first met, assumed that there weren't that many layers to you. But he was so wrong.

You were complicated and sensitive and extremely loving. And he enjoyed discovering every new aspect of you the closer he got to you. All things that had him so taken with you. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to try and figure things out. Hated how quickly the flame went out. He wanted that back.

“Yeah?” It's hard to mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “What am I?” Honestly, you don't want to sound as hopeful as you feel, but you can't help it. To hear, finally, what he really thinks of you... and maybe what else has been going on in his mind. What has been blocking him from you?

But Joon is terrible on the spot and is quickly clamming up under your gaze. The list he had created mere moments ago fleeting from his memory, only one word behind. And it's not the right one. “Pretty. I mean...” Desperately trying to search for the right words, but you're already rolling your eyes.

“Well, look who's superficial now.” You scoff, but you don't sound mad. Playful even. The teasing tone that he's grown used to in these past few weeks. It has him thinking, maybe he might still have a chance. “I know I'm pretty. And I know I'm spoiled and self-centered. But, I also know I'm intelligent. Outgoing. Kindhearted.” You tick each characteristic on your fingers. “You didn't care about any of that. Didn't even care to mention it,”

“I know. I'm sorry.” The two of you needed to talk, he's only now realizing how badly. There were so many things that he needed to tell you and in turn, so many things that he wanted to hear from you. If you weren't going to be together, at least you could clear the air. At least both of you could do without the confusion weighing over your hearts.

And it had to be now, no more of this waiting around bullshit. He's already lost two weeks of potentially being with you. He was done screwing around. “Should we go somewhere to talk?”

You don't think there's been a time you were invited to 'go somewhere to talk' and actually talked about anything. It annoys you how easily the words crush your spirit, proving how little control you had over your emotions when it came to him. And to make matters worse, you wanted to go with him.

Whether you were actually talking to correct things or just fooling around as you suspected was his intention. No matter what it was, you wanted to go along with him and that was scared as fuck. Still, you were far from becoming a bobblehead yes-woman at the mere mention of being alone with him.

Keeping your composure was at the top of the list. So you play into it, fingers crawling up his shoulder, to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” His eyes widen, obviously surprised that you've caught on.

Namjoon is shocked. How you'd get that from wanting to talk to you. Honestly, what went on in that head of yours, he'd love to know. But, while talking to you was at the utmost of importance... there was no way he could deny that being with you like that again would be nice. The moment held residence in his mind since that night and seeing you every day, looking the way you do did not help.

But, was this a test? Was he not supposed to want to sleep with you because your relationship... if it could even be called that, wasn't in the state to be even further complicated by doing such things. Were you testing him?

“What's the right answer to this?”

He loves the way you play with his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “No right answer. It's just what you want,” You're voice is all hushed and sensual, staring up at him through the ridiculously long lashes you've glued on. Which he always finds pretty.

“Uhm. Yes?”

You don't even miss a beat. “Why?”

It had been a test. At least he thinks so, why else would you be asking him why he wanted to sleep with you. He's sure he fucked up, yet again. “No right answer?”

Shaking your head, you smile. And it's a real smile. “No right answer.” Maybe he was wrong? Maybe you just wanted to know?

Joon was hardly doing anything without thinking it through it thoroughly first. He'd overthink into oblivion if it was possible. And like he wanted to know why you liked him, a question that you had fumbled, thinking it was a joke – you wanted to know why he wanted to sleep with you. Didn't really care for the answer, it would change much.

You just wanted to know.

“I like the way you look in your dress,” He's confessing because it's the truth. “And your waist feels good in my hands... you smell so sweet, and...” And I miss you. He can't seem to get his lips to form the words, the ambiguity of our situation holding him back. He didn't want to be the only one out in the wind.

Curious, you prompt. “And?”

“And, I want you.” He figures that should suffice. Doesn't give way to anything deeper that might scare you off. You can want someone without longing for them, right? Although, he did, very much long for you.

That was a conversation to be had at another time, though, because you're grinning. Leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and he swears he feels his heart leap from his chest. And as quickly as you closed in on him, you're back away, with a mischievous look in your eye.

Fingers dipping into the cleavage of your dress and he's not ashamed to admit that amount of attention he pays to them until you're presenting a key from your breast, extending it out to him.

“My rooms on the top floor. I'll meet you up there,” First, you've got to say goodnight to Hyungwon. You try not to look so excited when you walk away, even though it's buzzing from your pores. It was weird. Feeling this hopeful by having a man up to your room, it certainly wast' the first time.

But, Namjoon wasn't any ordinary man. He was different in ways you could no describe. You liked him and there was something there. You knew it, you could feel it. And no matter how cool he tried to act. You're sure he could feel it too.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 22:11

You find Hyungwon just as he's leading a pretty girl to his car. The slight stumble in his step giving way to how many drinks he's had tonight. He grins when he sees you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek that earns you a scowl from the girl beside him. Wait till she found out you were his girlfriend.

In no mood to spoil their night, you're quick with your goodbye. Letting him know that you'd be fine to find your own way home, which he quickly meets with his suspicions of you going back inside to meet Namjoon. A lady never tells, so he's whooping with excitement when you confirm it.

He's kissing you before slipping into the back seat of the car, the girl following behind him. The scowl not once leaving her features as she passes you. Lifting your hand to wave them off, because you can't help yourself. And you have every intention to go find Namjoon in your room, but you're being met with a sad looking Hoseok the moment you turn.

“I have to break up with Ti-Lee,” He's saying before you have the chance to ask him what's wrong. You're rushing to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He looks so torn, on the verge of tears. You feel tears well at the brim of your eyes from the sight. “Why?” Asking, even though you already know the answer.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he wiggles from your grip, the sad look on his face replaced with this hard expression that does not suit him at all. “She doesn't suit me. I should be with someone... else,” His words are so robotic, not even hiding that he's literally repeating exactly what your father has told him.

Now, if it were you, you'd laugh it off with a great big 'fuck you', but Hoseok wasn't like you. So, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to see, that no he shouldn't. “Uhm. Do you want to be with someone else?”

He had been so excited to introduce Ti-Lee, not only to your family but to anyone who was willing to listen. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten the boy was with her and you knew your brother, it wasn't easy to grasp and keep his attention.

And he knew that too. Never has he met someone like his girlfriend. He had no idea it would end up like this when they first met, either. Had been prepared to sum it up to nothing more than a casual hook up, but then he was left wanting and wondering. Wondering what she was doing, how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, how she'd feel to know that he was thinking about her.

It was sudden, the way he fell for her. In the middle of his busy life, where he swore he didn't have time for anything else. And then she was stepping in and it was like he couldn't really enjoy anything else. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about!?”

You see the annoyance wash over his features, shifting into anger. No doubt replaying the conversation he must've just had. But just as soon as it appears, it's gone. “Dad said it would be in my best interest if-”

With a firm shake of your head, you're cutting him off. “He doesn't care about your best interest, Hoseok.” It was about time he flat out heard it. That man didn't care about anyone but himself and he had everyone, even his own son fooled. But not you. “What could be wrong with Ti-Lee?”

“She doesn't even have a real job,” He's saying, but he doesn't mean it. The words don't even sound like his, because you know for a fact your brother doesn't care about things like that. “That wasn't a problem to you before. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

He's offering up another recycled reason on your father's list of unsuitables. “She could be with me for my money,” You actually laugh at that one. The both of you knew how to sniff out money-hungry people trying to nuzzle into your lives. There's no way he'd let Ti-Lee get this close if he thought that was the case.

But, you point out for his sake. “She makes her own money. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

You're more than ready to poke holes through any of his bullshit reasons on why he shouldn't be with this girl. Reasons that you know he doesn't even believe himself. A loud groan leaves his lips, hands pushing through his hair.

“Nothing's wrong with her! She's perfect but... but, I have to break up with her, Yn. You wouldn't understand,” You're actually the only person in the entire world that would understand. And also the only person in the entire world that can honestly tell him that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back when you tried to earn your father's affection or even a few words of praise. Anything. You tried so hard, but every last one of your efforts were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a second glance. It didn't take you long to put together that nothing really impressed your father, so might as well enjoy yourself if he was going to scowl at everything.

Hoseok has yet to realize this, but he'd never really be happy until he stopped being so compliant. “No, that's not fair. I won't let you do it.” Putting your foot down literally, which may look childish... but you mean business. “You like her! Like actually like her. You don't like anyone, Hoseok. That's not fair.”

“Come on, do you really think dad would have m do anything he didn't think was best?” Was he brainwashed? What parent would so deliberately stand in the way of their kid's happiness and claim that it's in their best interest? That wasn't parenthood. Like at all.

It was a fucking dictatorship. “Hobi,” You've gotta reach to grasp his shoulders as you speak, eyes trained on his. “Dad doesn't give a shit about you.” Speaking slowly in hopes that the words will penetrate through his rose-colored glasses.

He's knocking your hands off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What? Now you're being ridiculous.” Right, how could he not give a shit about him? That was his favorite after all. Of course, all of his shits were given and served directly to him. Dumbass.

“I'm serious! He only gives a fuck because you fit into his perfect plan. Successful rapper, more than ready to take over. The second something doesn't fit, he's cutting it out. Regardless of how it makes you feel. Why weren't you able to start your clothing line?” He had spent weeks meeting up with designers and artists, creating the basis of the brand he'd name after his very first album.

And right when things were starting to take off, it was being decided that he was spending too much time on things of no value. That he should be more focused on making music rather than trying to appeal to his fans with flashy things. The fact that he was having the most fun didn't matter. Making music. Money for the company.

That. That was more important.

“Because it wasn't a good idea.” And Hoseok had himself convinced that it was his idea to quit. Didn't even fight it when things started tumbling down, just went along with it like he always did.

You had bugged him for weeks about it but gave up after you realized you weren't getting anywhere. He was fucking brainwashed. “No, because it wasn't apart of the plan. So he made sure it didn't happen. He's got you under his thumb, Hobi. Wake up!”

He's getting mad and you can see it. But he has no idea where to direct it. You make sense and he hates that you do. Yet, he can't bring himself to believe that his dad would be setting him up for anything but success. He was his prodigy. It's always been that way, so why now would it be any different?

You were wrong. “No. You don't know what you're talking about. It might be that way for you, Yn. But you're a fuck up. What do you expect? You can't clump us together.” His words cut deeper than he intends. And you find yourself stepping back from him, blinking through the heaviness behind your eyes.

“I'm not a fuck up,” You don't even sound like yourself, all weak and wounded.

His words are fast. “Yes, you are. Every chance you get, you fuck up. And just because you've been keeping your shit lately doesn't change anything. Does it?” He was mad at you and all you were trying to do was help him.

All you ever did was try and help him. Because he was too stupid to see things as they were. Convinced that everything was perfect and you both had such a great dad.. all you needed to do was clean up your act. Be better and he'll treat you as well as he treats me. When that wasn't the case at all.

It's almost laughable, how little he knew about the man he idolized. “That's funny. The only reason why I've been 'keeping my shit' is because of you! Your fucking dad threatened me with you. Told me if I were to make another mistake he'd tank your album. Oh, but he cares about you, right? Why would he leave that in the hands of a fuck up?”

The rejection is instant, dismissing your words with a shake of his head. “You're lying.” He concludes. Not seeing any other outcome to this. What you were saying couldn't be true. There's no way his own dad would gamble on his work. No way.

“I don't lie and you know that. Let's go ask him,” Voice sounding a bit too chipper for the circumstance, but this was a long time coming.

Reaching for his hand, you're tugging him back into the hall, leading him straight to the table where your father sits. Completely forgetting about Namjoon waiting for you upstairs.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

↫ masterlist ↬

⇝ taglist: @agustdef @smoljams @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hehehehahahohohuhu @houseofarmanto @preciouschimine @chocobetterknot @kookiesjoonies @ashleyjoyx @thia-aep @jinhitwhore @silentlyimpractical @acc3ssdenied @triviasjms @joonies-babyy @bangtansonyeondayyyum @bangtan-noona @mipetronella @lilacdreams-00 @strawberryforever25 @tae165 @jikooksgirl19 @dee-ehn @butterflylion @alterlovess @joontopia @my-odd-mix @yeontanie21 @sw33tnight @kookiesdoe @daydreambrliever @elliemeetsevil @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansbun @taefect94 @tricethecharm @pjmcth @0xmysticx0 @samros95 @codeinebelle @vmin-soulmate @bluewhale52 @thecityrain @rageyoudamnednerd @kookoo-kachoo @diminieshoe @kelitt @soulstaes @ayyyocee @betysotelo18

⇝ taglist: @elephantdoors @amour-quinn @gemad08 @yoooonie @bloomtilweache @ambersaesthetics @peachy-tata @moonlitmyg @trinityxsope @jellyeater @miagracegrande @tom-hollands-wife @loveyoongles @seokjinslittledumpling @kerikaaria @ggukkieland @gwsyoongi @salty-for-suga @beeeb05 @dionysusrage @jungkookspromise @princecalpal @agustneeds @neverthefirstchoice @agustdakasuga @veronawrites @omot7 @agirlintheparkjimin @wildly-lost-lantern @goldenkookietae @ephyraaaa @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @sungieshines @embrace-themagic @aqtkookie @kim-ji-hyeons-world @mrksmrks @hyunjinhasmyheart @paddingtonrue @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta @veryuniquenamegoeshere @niieceyy @lowlifeoeuvre @lee-karliah @angiexyoung @marifujioka @softlyjins @mochibabycakes @producerjk @hqtetsurou

⇝ taglist: @heyitsbreeeeee @munkey888 @bbyjoonies @prdshobi @myworldisgone11 @kthvol6 @soloikeadates @illwritetomorrow @mysugarkoo @parkjammys @mypurplelamp @hansolsrightnut @vanillabrightlightning @huhuehuey @jiminshibaby @rjsmochii @certifiedcrazycatlady @jayyayyy17 @my-current-mood-is @btsbed @definitely-not-tina @jeonsbae01 @metaethically @kb-bangtanenthusiast @ardenlovesyou @simplymemyself @jin-from-the-block @janieooo @xxstrangegirlxxx @pastelbleuet @pxjiminsi @ruinsofangels @ladyarmanto @bloopkook @hopiebabie @bigimpression @xinyourdreamsx @hisunshiine @uxwi @yayo-kittty @taejinminsu @miss-jupiter @btsbangtanbois @sugalou @pjminmin @yoongiofmine @kim-jias-den

taglist: @imezz @itookallthejamsbruh @kimsouthjoon @ephyra1230 @awhnamjoon @jkismyasmr @eyereen @gldnrecs @jiminddaeng @morndas @daebakrex @getmemyfries @v3nti @drippingguk @iridescentstories @cheesecakes-randomshitz @jakiki94 @tatiquichi @tatajoonie @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @shadowhale @kuggnuj @cynicalitys @saymynamewithluv @kooafraid @milkteade @revehosh @gguksfilter @jai-namu @btsheartu @xxsunny-side-upxx @jeonkookiebangtan @scorpiostunner1027 @strwberry-jam @ssyubb @paolandotcom @marvelous-capsicle @letmebreathepls @rlynotme @bunny-meowmeow @bbybubbles @chxcolxtemilk @hobiheavenly @cyb3rbab3 @hobiismyhopeu @h3llbunni @namjoonrkive @avipshamitra @seolarsyj @bitterly-sweet @knjkitten

⇝ taglist: @taescckookies @frompeaches @redluvletmain @onlythehobi @queenofmonkeybusinessuniverse @catpersona

⇝ taglist: @jojoslibrary @stvvcks @madjanmil @dammit-jjk @laveendel @hisbutton-nose @yooniyves @we8joon @diorhoba @powerfultaekook @belatona @rebel-lious-alien @inaffiare @lokilove3112 @serious-addiction @innadaquit @fullmooninautumn @aishots @shinekookie @biaisezabini @seokjiniebabie @our-buffoon-joon @youlook-likehell @hobeemin @subtlepjiminie @eatjeanjin @zaedynnn @shameless-army @8jinie @fanfics-for-fun @crispychanniee

443 notes · View notes

storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 4

A/N: what's this? jimmy may be finally leaving denial station? and gray-aroace jimmy because i said so? hell yeah. also more seablings pog!! i do also have the next chapter written already bc it has one of the scenes that was basically the whole reason i wrote this fic, but i'm gonna wait until tomorrow to post it (mostly bc i wanna make sure i have the chapter after that one written bc of... reasons >:) the next chapter is a tad cliffhanger-y and i just don't want y'all to have to wait too long)

Warnings: teasing/banter, flirting, realization of feelings

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

The invitation for the House Blossom Ball arrived, with a separate handwritten note along with it from Katherine that very pointedly reminded Jimmy to dress up and maybe lose the cod head. Something about how it wasn’t “fancy enough” or whatever. Jimmy felt the cod head was acceptable for any occasion, not to mention he felt weird with his whole head being in view- but maybe he could compromise for Katherine. He’d have to figure out some sort of other headpiece… but the ball wasn’t for a few days anyway. Jimmy had plenty of time to figure out an outfit. In the meantime, he had some work to do on his slime farm. And of course, who else should be there but Scott when Jimmy came up from his farm. He was sitting on the roof of the slime farm entrance, legs swinging idly.

“What are you doing here,” Jimmy asked with a tired sigh, really hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with another fight with Scott. Scott hopped down from the roof, gliding a bit before landing in front of Jimmy.

“Oh same as always, I was bored and you’re fun to bother,” Scott said with a shrug and a playful grin. Jimmy glowered at him, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh no, not today! I’m not letting you get under my skin anymore!” Jimmy said, determination in his tone. Scott raised an eyebrow as his grin morphed into a smirk, and there was that squirming, fluttery feeling from their fight again.

“Are you sure about that?” Scott crooned, a clear challenge in his voice. Jimmy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before shifting his expression into something more neutral.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly, walking past Scott towards his base. Scott seemed surprised for a moment, before getting his bearings and following after Jimmy.

"Not even over this?" Scott asked, walking beside Jimmy and tossing something green up in the air before catching it again. Jimmy stopped walking, brows furrowed in confusion. Scott stopped too, looking him in the eyes as he tossed the object again- a slimeball.

"How- where- when did you- where did you get that from?!" Jimmy demanded. The only way people got slime was from his empire.

“Got it from one of your chests- thought you wouldn’t mind,” Scott replied with a shrug, that smirk still irritatingly present on his face.

“I very much do mind! Give that back!” Jimmy demanded, lunging forward to try and grab the slimeball from his hand. Scott darted back, flapping his wings and sending a gush of wind to push Jimmy back.

“You’re gonna have to catch me, fish boy,” Scott teased, before taking off into the sky. Jimmy grit his teeth in frustration.

“I’m the Codfather!” he protested, equipping his elytra and taking off after Scott. Scott laughed, dipping and twirling in the sky while Jimmy struggled to keep up. Going after someone who had actual wings while Jimmy only had an elytra was a definite disadvantage, but Jimmy was a little too stubborn to care. Scott climbed higher into the sky with ease, Jimmy following close after- and then the sun hit Scott’s wings and Jimmy just about fell out of the sky. The sun’s rays caught the gold tips of his wings, making them shimmer. But it wasn’t just the sunshine reflecting off his wings- it was the way Scott’s whole face seemed to shine like the sun with his smile and how the wind ruffled his usually neat hair. It was how his laugh sounded as if the shimmering of gold made a sound. It was how those icy blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he held the slimeball victoriously above his head. It was how Scott’s expression suddenly melted from that of a mischievous trickster to something almost fond. All of those things caused that pleasant flip-flopping feeling in his stomach to return, and Jimmy suddenly pitched down because of it. He quickly righted himself, flushing in embarrassment and glaring at Scott’s resulting smirk.

“Guess you aren’t one of those flying fish, huh,” he teased.

“Just give me the slimeball back!” Jimmy demanded. Scott laughed, and it felt like flowers blooming in Jimmy’s chest.

“You get so fussed over the littlest of things,” he said, still laughing. Jimmy got the feeling that he should have been angry at Scott’s teasing, he was making fun of him, after all! But instead, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile back. To Jimmy’s surprise, Scott seemed startled by that, eyes going wide and a half gasp, half laugh escaping his lips.

“Sometimes you gotta appreciate the little things in life! You miss those things when you fly above everything and live up and away from the world in the mountains,” Jimmy pointed out with a laugh. Scott pondered this, slowly floating back to the ground as he did so. Jimmy tilted his head to the side in confusion, coming to a landing beside him. Scott was staring at the slimeball in his hands with a mix of wonder and bafflement. Shaking his head, Scott reached out for Jimmy’s hand and pressed the slimeball into it, both hands clasping over Jimmy’s hand for a moment. Jimmy’s hand felt fever-warm at Scott’s touch, and his heart hammered in his chest.

“You can have this back. Sorry,” Scott said, quickly withdrawing his hands. Jimmy felt horrible instantly, he clearly struck a nerve with what he said. Before Scott got a chance to leave, Jimmy quickly grabbed his hands, giving the slimeball back.

“Keep it, I’ve got plenty. You- you should enjoy the little things in life too,” Jimmy said softly. Scott’s face tinged pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“I- whatever,” Scott scoffed, trying to bring it back to their teasing back and forth from before, but failing miserably. Before Jimmy had a chance to reply, Scott drew his hands back, holding the slimeball close to his chest and taking off into the sky. This time around, Jimmy didn’t bother chasing after him. He was a little too busy wondering what on earth had just happened. One moment Jimmy was irritated by Scott’s presence, and the next his heart felt all fluttery and he willingly gave him a commodity from his empire. What was happening to him?! Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion… but he had to talk to Lizzie or Joel first. He just had to be sure.

Jimmy flew to Lizzie’s empire, spotting her and Joel sitting together on one of her giant lilypads. They both looked at him with concern when he landed in front of them, out of breath. Lizzie was the first to jump to her feet, hands reaching out towards him and searching for any injuries. Joel followed after her and hovered at her side, looking unsure of what to do.

“What happened?! Are you hurt, were you attacked?!” Lizzie demanded, and Joel’s eyes shot to the skies as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guys, I’m fine! See, look! I’m all good. Just had to see you,” Jimmy said, holding his arms out to show that he was, in fact, uninjured. Lizzie and Joel breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. Usually when you fly to one of us in a panic, you’re hurt or being chased, or something’s seriously wrong,” Joel said, the tension draining from his shoulders and hand dropping from the hilt of his sword. Jimmy’s smile turned sheepish.

“Well… something… might be wrong. But there’s something I’ve gotta ask you guys first,” Jimmy replied nervously. Lizzie and Joel exchanged confused glances. Lizzie stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Of course, you can ask us anything,” she said softly. Jimmy took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say it.

“How did you know you were in love?” he asked timidly. Lizzie blinked in surprise, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Is this about Scott?” Joel asked. Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Please just answer the question,” he muttered. Thankfully, Joel didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, and neither did Lizzie.

“For me it was her smile. Gave me butterflies the first time I saw it,” Joel said, unabashedly gazing at Lizzie. She giggled, and Joel’s fond expression increased tenfold.

“Butterflies?” Jimmy asked, a bit confused by the turn of phrase.

“You know, when your stomach gets all squirmy, but not in a bad way? Like a bunch of butterfly wings flapping inside you,” Joel explained, and Jimmy was hit with a sudden burst of clarity. Something in his expression must have shown it, because Lizzie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re telling me that’s what love feels like? It’s that just… all the time?” Jimmy asked, his voice a little hollow with disbelief. At himself mostly, for not realizing it sooner. To be fair, he didn’t feel those sorts of feelings often. In fact, he felt it almost exclusively with Scott. So to realize this whole time what he had really been feeling wasn’t just hatred or irritation… he felt a little silly.

“Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes being around someone you love just makes you feel warm and cozy,” Lizzie added.

“Well… but I feel warm and cozy all the time with you guys!” Jimmy protested, still trying to deny that feeling just a little bit longer. Lizzie smiled, patient and understanding.

“Yes, but with this… hypothetical someone, it’s different, isn’t it,” she gently prodded. Jimmy finally gave in. It was different with Scott, and that honestly terrified him. He’d never felt this way about anyone, ever.

“Oh my god, I like him,” Jimmy breathed.

“About time you figured it out,” Joel muttered. Lizzie moved her hand from Jimmy’s shoulder to swat Joel’s arm. Jimmy was too busy having a bit of an existential crisis to really care.

“Oh my god I really like him. This whole time- but Scott hates me, what on earth am I supposed to- but he seemed kind of nice today…” Jimmy trailed off, beginning to pace back and forth. Lizzie gasped in excitement, rushing over to stand in front of Jimmy and grabbing his shoulders.

“You saw him today?! Tell. Me. Everything!” she demanded. Jimmy let out a sheepish laugh.

“Nothing really happened! He stole a slimeball from me, I chased him a bit in the sky- and oh god he was gorgeous in the sunlight- and then I said something to make him sad and let him keep the slimeball anyway. I- wow I really didn’t like seeing him sad,” Jimmy rambled, a disbelieving smile growing across his face. Joel made a mock-disgusted face.

“I think I liked it better when Jimmy was in denial, he’s getting all mushy now,” he teased. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, being mushy is a good look on you,” she insisted, getting a laugh out of Jimmy.

“I’m glad you think so, but maybe Joel is right. Cause now all I can think about is how Scott definitely doesn’t feel the same way,” Jimmy said with a sigh. A determined look came across Lizzie’s face, and distantly Jimmy was a little terrified.

“Oh no, you’ve activated her plotting look,” Joel said with the same distant terror that Jimmy was feeling.

“The ball is the perfect time to change Scott’s mind and show him that you are a catch, you’ve said so yourself,” Lizzie explained with a grin.

“Oh no, that is not happening, I just want the ball to be something fun, I don’t wanna make a scene,” Jimmy protested, but it came out a little weak.

“Us? Make a scene? Never. I was just thinking that we make sure to get you a snazzy outfit!” Lizzie said, and while Jimmy didn’t trust her for a second, he could concede that Lizzie had a better sense of style than he did.

“Oh, alright. As long as it’s just that,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Of course!” Lizzie said, far too innocently. Jimmy just chuckled and shook his head.

“And we should probably do something fancier than the cod head,” Joel added. Jimmy sighed, putting a hand over the cod head.

“Yeah, yeah, Katherine mentioned that too,” Jimmy said with a pout.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands!” Lizzie chirped, releasing Jimmy’s shoulders to instead grab his arm and pull him to where she and Joel had been sitting, rambling about outfit ideas all the while. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile and be a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe wearing something nice would catch Scott’s eye… but then what? Happily ever after? Was that how love even worked? Whatever the case, he was sure Lizzie would have a plan for that too. And maybe the ball could be the start of something beautiful.

Taglists below! Ask me to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #flower husbands #seablings #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

92 notes · View notes

viperbarnes · 3 years

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

193 notes · View notes

stillebesat · 3 years

Text

Code: Blanket

Sanders Sides: Janus, Virgil, (Logan & Remus mentioned) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn't stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references. Taglist in Reblog

Janus Daemon @TheGatekeeper *12m To the ‘family’ that locked me in our unfinished attic these past 4 months to “knock the Antifa sh!t” out of me; Pretty sure this is worse than anything I’d have done. Don’t bother deleting the evidence of your ‘trip.’ It’s already been passed onto the proper Authorities. Cheers.

Virgil shot upright in bed, staring at the tweet and the handful of photos from the storming of the Capitol that Dee had attached along with it. “No way.” He breathed. No freaking way.

Janus. Janus Daemon, the goodie-two-shoes who always obeyed his parents and followed their lead...had actually turned them in as Capitol rioters?

He frowned, tapping on his phone to blow up the images so he could see the people within them better. Yah, no. Even if it had been ages since he’d seen Dee’s family...there was no denying that two of the dozen faces circled and labeled in the pictures were the same parental figures that he remembered sneering down at him before they forcefully dragged their son off the playground when he was six.

That had been right after...Virgil hunched his shoulders. After his Dad’s divorce from his Mom. Apparently hanging out with a child who only had a Dad in the picture was a big “NO” in their messed up book of rules.

Not that that had stopped them from becoming secret best friends in school...well until last year that is….when his Dad had married Remus.

That had...been rough...when word got out--well reached Dee’s parents and they’d stormed the school to find their son working on a project in the library with him, the ‘hooligan freak who dared to be okay with having two dads when it was unnatural to the natural order of things.’

He’d known, from Janus, that his parents were uptight...but that day had shown him how all Daemons were a Demonic Clan of Super Karens that had campaigned nearly as hard as the President to force both his Dad and Remus from their jobs in order to protect the community from their sort.

Unfortunately for the Daemons, they’d picked the wrong family to mess with. Not when his Dad, Logan Andrews, was considered to be the best lawyer in the state, if not the country. Not when his new husband, Remus Knight, had just finished performing a life saving surgery on the governor's daughter. No. The Daemons may be influential, but they were nothing compared to his parents when their Momma Bear instincts were roused.

Honestly...to discover that the entire group had drunk the kool-aid and actually stormed the Capitol to support the Orange Cheeto shouldn’t be so surprising.

Well...not everyone.

Virgil frowned, glancing back up to the first part of the tweet before he hit his contacts, scrolling through them to find Janus’s name only to hesitate over pressing the call button.

He hadn’t spoken to Dee in a year. Not since that fiasco. Not since his so called friend had taken his parent's side and cut off all contact, purposely burning the bridges of their friendship with sneers, glares...and well---

Virgil exhaled, closing his eyes.

Could a Demon change their stripes? Could Janus...could he---

Sure...it appeared he was finally rebelling against his parents...but he had no idea what Dee thought of him---Virgil gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. “I made a promise.” He whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

Still. Maybe not a good idea to call. Janus had probably blocked his number anyways---

He swiped out of his contacts, switching to his barely used Facebook Messenger where he picked out Janus’s name from there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Dee probably still wanted nothing to do with him.

He swiped a single word...once again hesitating over sending it.

They hadn’t talked in a year.

This could go so wrong.

And yet--

He hit send.

Virgil: Blanket?

He bit his lip, barely breathing as he stared at the little check mark symbol showing that Dee’s account had at least received the message.

Not that he really expected a response. It was Facebook after all. But Janus had just turned his family in. Did he have a place to stay? Had he been fed? Just how bad had it been for him to be locked in an unfinished attic over the summer by the people who supposedly loved him? Who had proclaimed they wanted to protect him. If---

His heart skipped a beat as the checkmark switched to Janus’s profile picture.

Dee had seen the message.

He stopped breathing as the three typing dots appeared.

Janus: Seriously?

“Ha.” Virgil relaxed, running shaking fingers through his hair. Not a totally unexpected response after everything. But far better than the hate filled rant he’d half expected to get. That had to be a good sign right? He had come up with that particular coded phrase as a way to judge his friend’s needs when Dee had pulled him into the hollow of an old oak tree on his way to the bus the day after his fateful encounter with the Super Karens on the playground with tears shining in his eyes.

Janus hadn’t wanted to return home that day because his parents had been so mad at him for playing with Virgil. He hadn’t understood why having only a Dad was bad--

He hadn’t been as understanding when Virgil ended up with two.

Virgil rolled off the bed, stuffing his feet into his shoes as he sent a one word answer back.

Virgil: Yes.

No typing dots appeared even though he could see that Dee had seen his response.

Unsurprising. Dee was probably wondering if this was some sort of trick, if there was a catch. Why would Virgil of all people contact him out of the blue after how he’d treated him?

He pulled his hoodie over his head, swiping his keys and face mask from his desk as he took a chance and pressed call, holding his phone up to his ear, listening to it ring as he left his room and moved downstairs.

A click sounded in his ear right before the voicemail could activate.

Janus had picked up, Virgil could hear the faint sound of sirens in the background, the shaky barely controlled breathing.

He wasn’t saying anything though.

That was fine. Not normal for Dee, who always liked to have the first and last word but Virgil could work with this.

“Offer still stands, Dee.” He said, keeping his voice low as he moved past Dad and Remus’s darkened bedroom, heading to the front door. “I’ve told you a million times that if you don’t know where to go you can always come here. You acting like the world’s biggest dick doesn’t change that.”

Janus may have thrown their friendship out of the figurative door...but Virgil--well he...hadn’t. Not really. He had been hoping Dee would come around--not like this...but if this could get his best friend back---

“You can’t mean that, Annie.” The voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Not after--”

“Dude.” Virgil tsked, scribbling a quick note to his parents because Dad would hear the car start up and be up like a shot once he realized Virgil was leaving after hours. “You just posted that you were locked up in your attic by your so-called parents.” He pulled open the front door, quickly slipping out before he jangled his car keys by the phone. “Unless you say Nest right now, I’m coming to get you and dragging you back. So. Blan--” He looked up and froze, staring at the shadowy figure hovering just outside the gate. ”-ket?”

Janus huffed in his ear, the figure at the gate shifting to grab onto one arm, rubbing it as they shuffled back a step.

Dee did that whenever he was nervous. Whenever he was afraid he was making the wrong choice.

He hadn’t spoken to Virgil in a year.

Yet he was already here.

Virgil was off the porch and jumping over the gate in a flash, grabbing onto Janus before his friend could change his mind and bolt. “Dee.”

Janus flinched, slowly lowering the phone, a crumpled face mask hanging from one ear, ragged hair half covering a deep purple bruise and three long scratches by his left eye as he ducked his head. “If...I said...Fort?’ He whispered, shoulders hunching as if expecting a physical blow.

Blanket Fort. A need for Protection. For Safety.

Virgil growled, tugging his friend into his arms, holding him tight, heart throbbing as Dee practically melted into him like a shaking leaf, breath hitching as his fingers dug into Virgil’s hoodie.

How long had it been since anyone had treated Dee with any compassion? Four months locked up in an attic. His family halfway across the country committing treason. Had they even left him any food when they left? Probably not from how bony Dee felt now in his arms.

“Janus.” Virgil said softly, holding him tighter as his friend shuddered in his arms, running careful fingers through his greasy hair. “I told you. You can always stay here.”

Part 2

#Code: Blanket #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Virgil #Janus #Anxiety #Deceit #Logan mention #Remus mention #homophobia talk #neglectful/abusive parents #injury mention #Capitol Riot references #political references

195 notes · View notes

flooffybits · 3 years

Text

If You Can Hear Me

Idol: Dreamcatcher

marshmallow: Helloo, can I please request a Dreamcatcher 8th member scenario where reader has a rough past and is going through a lot, and the members know it. But instead of worrying the others, she writes all of her emotions and stories into multiple songs without then knowing. But when she left her laptop, the curious members take a look inside and are amazed at how beautiful the songs are. Thank youu.

Warning: mentions of depression

☕buy me a coffee☕

Gahyeon quietly padded outside her and Handong’s shared room, only to sleepily enter yours and Yubin’s. Seeing the two of you still fast asleep, she silently made her way over to your bed, glad that you didn’t have the top bunk as she wordlessly joined you in bed.

The sudden movements caused you to groan before you looked down to see a mop of dark brown hair all over your chest. Adjusting your position and reaching to push the latter’s hair away, your bleary eyes soon make out the maknae’s features before letting out a breath.

“Gahyeon?”

But the younger girl only grumbled as she buried her face into your neck, giving you no proper reply before you heard her silent snoring. And due to your tired state, you simply adjusted the sheets around you before going back to sleep, this time with a clingy and tired baby in your arms.

The next time you wake up, Minji is giving your shoulder a little nudge with a bright smile adorning her features. "Good morning!" She greets and you blink a few times before yawning, stretching your arms in front of you before you realize that Gahyeon was nowhere to be found.

Instead, Yoohyeon had taken her place.

“I thought Gahyeon was here.” You mutter while rubbing your eyes, though your other arm draped loosely around the snoring puppy. Minji chuckled before she placed a kiss on the top of your head. “She got up a while ago. Yoohyeon, I’m not sure when she came here.” Your leader explains and you can only nod your head, because this wasn’t exactly anything new to you.

Lightly tapping her back, you make sure to wake Yoohyeon. But when she refuses to get up, you merely move her so that she’s laying in your bed instead and Minji watches with amusement swimming in her eyes before stepping back and heading for the door. “You have a schedule after lunch. Don’t forget.”

You lay there for a few more moments, waking yourself up, before finally moving to stand, stretching your arms over your head and letting out a sigh. When you look back at Yoohyeon, you let out a small sigh before reaching to pull the covers over her so she was more comfortable, fixing one of your pillows so she would cuddle that instead.

Peeking at the top bunk, you smile when you see Yubin fast asleep, knowing she had stayed up much later than you. You reach to gently pat her head before heading to the bathroom so you could freshen up for the day.

When you reach the living room, you’re not too surprised to see Siyeon, Gahyeon, and Minji already up and about. And it doesn’t take long before Bora comes to join you, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she greeted you with a good morning.

“What time are you heading out, unnie?” Gahyeon asked while munching on her pancake and you check your phone for the time. “Well, hopefully after eating. But considering the traffic, I just might have lunch after my schedule.” You explain, making Siyeon pout as she shook her head. “You have to eat properly. We don’t want you getting sick.” She scolds lightly.

“Siyeon is right. You haven’t been eating much, lately, and we’re close to having another comeback.” The leader stated softly and you purse your lips slightly. “I’ll prepare something for you, so promise me that you’re going to eat at least on the way to the location.” Bora seemed to have sensed your hesitance, and seeing the look on your face, she decided it was best not to point it out, and instead decided to compromise.

Your shoulders visibly relaxed and you eventually nodded your head. “Okay.”

The four exchanged looks before letting the tension eventually pass and Bora was soon working on getting your lunch ready. And when Yubin woke up, she had silently joined and helped the older woman in preparing your food when she found out what the other was doing whilst Handong joined you in picking out your outfit.

“I’m worried about her.” Minji breaks the silence a few minutes after you had bid them goodbye and exited the dorm. “Why?” Yoohyeon asked when she began to fill her plate with her own food.

“Unnie has been withdrawing from us a lot more.” Gahyeon says with a frown, voicing out what was on the majority of their minds.It was no secret to them how you were struggling with certain things. While you often portrayed yourself as a calm and collected person in front of the audience, the girls knew more than that facade and how your demons were much louder than the screaming of the crowd during your performances.

You just had a great way of keeping them under wraps.

“Has she shown any signs of it getting worse?” Handong asked your roommate and the younger woman shook her head. “Unnie’s just been quieter than usual. She’s been writing a lot, too.” Yubin answers when she recalls how your conversation at night gradually decreased and you had resorted to writing in your notebook or laptop.

“Has she mentioned anything?” Minji asks carefully, only to receive another shake of the head, and that was worrisome enough on its own. Without having much of an idea what was bothering you, none of them knew how to help or what to do.

“I wish she didn’t feel like she can’t come to us.” Siyeon quietly mumbles while leaning against Bora’s side and the older girl nodded her head. “I just hope we can help her; make her feel less of a burden.” The dancer mumbled softly while she gently patted Siyeon’s hair.

Not wanting to worry further, the girls decided that it was best to end the discussion there, though they do promise to do the best they can to make sure to help you in any way possible.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” Yubin asks when she watches you getting ready to leave, somewhat in a hurry. “I’ll be fine, Dami. I promise I’ll be home with all of your favorite snacks and drinks.” You reply, checking your wallet and then shoving it inside your pocket before putting your coat on.

“Stay safe!” Bora calls out to you when you open the door, struggling to put your shoe on and making Gahyeon laugh at your slightly clumsy display. “You have a curfew!” Siyeon adds and you look at her over your shoulder, causing Yoohyeon to crack up this time, before shaking your head.

“See you, love you!” You tell them right before shutting the door and the girls are once again left without you.

Yubin sat by the stairs that led to her bunk and she swung her legs a bit while observing your shared room. It was neat like always, remembering how you wanted to keep the room tidy for the two of you, knowing how Yubin wasn’t exactly too comfortable with a messy room.

Though when Yoohyeon comes inside to check on her, she’s not too surprised when the girl knocks over the pile of clothes you’d left on your computer chair, probably planning on cleaning that up when you return.

“It wasn’t me!” The taller woman immediately shouted before scrambling to pick your clothes off the floor and Yubin sighs before hopping off her bed and then helping her best friend clean up the mess she created.

“What did you do this time?” Handong asked while peeking inside the room and Yoohyeon pouts when she folds the shirt in her hands. “I swear, it was an accident.” The Chinese woman playfully rolled her eyes. “It’s always an accident with you.”

While the pair was busy arguing, Yubin silently placed your clothes back on the chair, only for her to notice how you had left your laptop on when she saw the light near the power button still on. It made her smile a bit with how your urgency had caused you to forget some things, so she moved to turn it off.

But as the screen came to life, she was surprised to see your notes open with various words and phrases written in them. Yubin knew that you often wrote, but she didn’t think you had turned your thoughts into songs, seeing as you’ve never shared anything about song writing.

She knew that it was wrong to snoop through your things, especially ones as personal as these, but each line written captured the emotions she didn’t think she’d find from you made her read more and more of what there was on display, and her silence was soon noticed by the other two.“Dami, what’s that?”

Yoohyeon’s brows pinched together before she and Handong locked eyes for a brief moment, and then moved to stand behind the younger woman, checking to see what had her so distracted.

“This is…” Handong’s eyes widened a bit when she realized what it was she was reading, but much like the other two, she found it difficult to tear her eyes away, too.

The three of them spend longer inside your room and the rest of your members start to wonder just what it was they were doing. So when they go to check, they’re all surprised to see the three still huddled in front of your laptop.

“What are you doing with unnie’s laptop?” Gahyeon questions as Siyeon purses her lips. “What’s wrong?” They spot the tears Yoohyeon was desperately trying to wipe away when she read more of your songs, but it was all in vain.

“I didn’t know it was this bad…” Yubin quietly muttered to herself, but it was loud enough for everyone else to hear. “What’s bad?” Bora asks curiously when she lightly patted Yoohyeon’s head in comfort for whatever it was that had her looking so upset.

But Minji speaks before anyone else answers. “You shouldn’t be looking through Y/n’s stuff like that.” She says sternly, but even with that, she admits that she’s just as curious as the rest of her members. “I know but… you have to see this.”

The four newcomers exchange looks and, eventually, they take a quick peek at the currently opened file, but Minji was far more reluctant due to the invasion of your privacy, but seeing the way her members’ expression shifted, her curiosity eventually got the best of her and she walked over, noticing as Siyeon wiped a tear away from her cheek before she took a seat.

Minji wasn’t sure what to expect when she viewed the screen, but as she let out a slow exhale, she let her eyes scan through the contents of your most recent work and it was then she understood what had caused two, now three, of the members to tear up. She felt herself choke up with the message left in your words.

Do I have to keep pretending?

Or is an echo all I’ll ever be?

Tell me could you really love me

When I’m nothing but a shell of someone I can’t be

When she sees the next one, it’s only then that she notices that there are dates on when you started each song and notes on when you had updated them. The next one was a newer work compared to the one she read earlier.

Now it’s not too late

I only have you, save me now

Tell me if you can hear me

Please come and let this nightmare end

She couldn’t finish the whole song, tears blurring her vision before she carefully shut your laptop and pushed it aside, making sure that it would be in a safe place on your desk, before she got up and faced everyone.

“We’ll talk later.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but given what they just found out - what you felt, they all understood and each departed for their own rooms to think and reflect on what they could do before you arrived home.

Trudging up the stairs to your dorm, you let out a heavy sigh, hoisting the bags you had that contained the girls’ food and drinks like you promised before leaving. You were exhausted after meeting with your parents, both physically and mentally, but you were just glad to be back home with your members.

Balancing the bags with one arm, you unlock the door and head inside, kicking your shoes off before you ventured further inside, only to frown at the silence that enveloped your usually loud and bright home.

“Guys?” You call out, confused by the lack of people, but the only person you notice is Minji, who was sitting in the living room with a contemplative look on her face and you slowly put the bags down.

“Unnie, where are the others?” You ask her, noting her silence and the unusual blank look on her face. It worries you, so you look around, only to see everyone’s doors are closed.

The unease builds in your chest, but you push forward as you take a hesitant seat across the older girl. “Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, and she finally lifts her head, surprising you when you see her slightly reddened eyes.

“Y/n, I want you to be very honest with me.” Her voice is like a plea, and her words make you antsy but you nod either way. “Of course, unnie.”

Whatever it was that was upsetting her involved you, you assume. And judging by the lack of your usually loud members, you think that they’re aware of what the problem is.

“Are you happy?”

The question catches you off guard and your eyes snap to your leader’s face, wondering if this was some sort of trick question, only to see nothing but desperation and sadness etched on to her features.

But still, the question makes you go quiet and your hands rest on your lap.

“I...” She licks her lips, almost as though bracing herself before Bora opens the door to her and Yoohyeon’s room. “Jiu wanted to say, we saw some of the things you wrote.” She explains despite the look her friend gives her and Yoohyeon quietly shuffles out of their shared room.

“We understand that you’ll be upset, but we have been trying to understand what was going on with you.” Minji sighs, seeing no more reasons for hiding. “We know that you're dealing with so much, but recently we’ve been feeling a little out of loop, and we had no idea how to help.” Yoohyeon elaborates with a nervous look in her eyes, still feeling guilty for having gone through your personal documents.

The next door to open is Siyeon’s and then Handong and Gahyeon’s. Yubin doesn’t wait either because she’s soon out of your room and joining you on the couch.“We’re asking this time… are you happy?”

You look to each of your members faces, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events that you feel a lump forming in your throat.

It was true that you had been suffering from depression, but you chose to keep that confidential and refused to let it be known to the public, but the girls knew.

They saw you every day and they could see it whenever the thoughts and whispers got a little too louder for you to handle. And while you would confide in them the first few months, everything felt much heavier for you that you felt like you were holding the team back.

“I… I don’t-”

“We won’t be upset, Y/n. Whether it’s a yes or no, we understand. We just want to help you.” Handong says softly when Yubin carefully reaches for your hand and slowly laces her fingers with yours.

You pause, your gaze falling to the floor as you gathered your thoughts before the weight of the past month finally settled on your shoulders. You’ve been busying yourself ever since your parents decided to come and visit you that you didn’t have the time to properly assess the situation.

You so desperately tried to throw it out of your mind, but now as your members finally sat you down and asked you how you felt, you could actually feel the weight crumbling down on you that it was nearly suffocating.

Arms are quick to envelope you from behind and the scent of Siyeon’s shampoo greets your nose. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s clear what her intentions were.

“I want to be…” You mumble quietly, squeezing Yubin’s hand when Siyeon rests her cheek on the top of your head. “There’s a lot that I want to just… shut out, and I can’t seem to do it and everything just piles up that I don’t know what to do or where to go.”

The crack in your voice resembles the ones in their hearts at the sound of it.

“You’ll always have us, unnie.” Gahyeon quietly tells you as she rounds the couch and sits on the opposite side of Yubin. “Gahyeon is right. You have seven people waiting for you and ready to catch you whenever.” Bora tells you with a kind smile, reaching to wipe your tears and cupping your cheeks.

“If you decide that you need a break and just breathe, we’ll be here to help you. You can lean on us if you feel like it’s too much for you. And if you decide that a… h-hiatus is what’s necessary, then we can respect that, too.” Even saying the word had left a sinking feeling in Minji’s stomach, but it was your well-being she wanted to prioritize before anything else.

You look at your leader and chew on your lower lip as your members could all see the conflict on your face.

While they didn’t like the idea of a hiatus, they understood that it may be what you needed the most right now. But that decision was mainly up to you and they could only support you whether you wanted to push through with it or not.

However, you don’t think that you were willing to give up after how far you’ve come. After everything you’ve been through, you doubt that you could actually pull through without your members by your side.

They’ve helped you become the person that you are now - cheered you up and encouraged you when things seemed hopeless and you were left with nothing but the harsh criticism of your family along with the nasty comments left by people online.“I don’t want to go on a hiatus.” You shake your head. “Things are hard, I know, but I don’t want to just throw in the towel after all that we’ve been through, especially when we’re scheduled to start for the next comeback.” You tell them when Gahyeon places her hands on your other arm.

Yoohyeon purses her lips together, tears already in her eyes before she’s blinking them away the best she can. “You don’t have to push yourself because of that, everyone will understand!” She exclaims and you shake your head once more.

“I’m not doing it for them.”

They pause at your words and Yubin feels as you hold her hand tighter in your grip. “I don’t want to keep doing this just because of them. I want to do this because it’s me, because I want to prove to myself that I can keep going and that I can make it.” You explain with a determined look in your eyes, that despite the dullness in them due to your exhaustion, there was still a little bit of spark that just needed more room for it to reach its full potential.

“Are you sure?”

You pause for a brief moment, but when you look back up, you offer them a smile. “Do you think I can show them some of what I wrote?”

That was enough of an answer that had all of them smiling, pride swelling in their chests as you all soon prepared for the upcoming comeback.

184 notes · View notes

mischiefmanaged71 · 3 years

Text

Turning Tables (3/8) - Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Joaquin work together to track down the Flag Smashers, but yet again, she is the middle woman between Bucky and Sam as they butt heads.

Author’s Note: Continuation of the story into Episode Two of TFATWS. Love the banter between Sam and Bucky, especially when Walker turns up and they team up to direct all of their anger at him. Joaquin is my man, my soft boi. I need more of him in the next two episodes, otherwise, I’m going to be a wreck for a while. Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged! There will definitely be two more parts…who knows, maybe I’ll add more or individual one-shots!

Warnings: anxiety, the smallest drop of fluff

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x fem! Reader

You leaned back in your chair, feet crossed in front as Joaquin read through documents at his desk. Following up on leads was the top priority right now with the rise in communications of the revolutionaries’ known as the Flag Smashers.

Word Count: 2.4K

Joaquin stood by his word and incorporated Sam and Y/N in the investigation. They had been at the Airbase for a total of 3 hours and 49 minutes, reading through documents and following up leads using the database resources.

You rest your hands on your stomach as you shut your eyes for a moment. The bags under your eyes had become more noticeable in the past couple days, what with sleepless nights and long hours. All of which led you to grow closer to the coffee machine in your small apartment.

The nightmares had grown worse in the past week, haunting more than the occasional dream. Sometimes it was just the darkness that irked you, which you’d usually resolve with a bit of light. More recently, they formed into horrific events where you couldn’t save Sam or Bucky. The worst instance was last night’s terror.

This time, Joaquin showed up instead.

Instead of the usual guilt that strung you up, an aching sorrow and horror overwhelmed you as you lost control.

The fire was everywhere.

It burned until nothing was left.

Until the last edge of life was gone.

Even as you grasped for the tip of control to stop it, the flames extended further and further.

You couldn’t stop them,

And that terrified you.

It had its grip on your throat, ever-so-slowly compressing your windpipe as you clawed for the surface.

“Y/N?”

You inhaled sharply, opening your eyes to Joaquin’s concerned gaze as he leaned across the desk.

“You alright? You dozed off there.”

You nodded your head, slacking your jaw to recognise your feet touching the ground, the cabinets along the walls and lastly, the man sitting behind the desk.

His concerned gaze is glued to your widened eyes which scan the room, almost as if you weren’t completely aware.

“Yeah...I haven’t been getting much sleep is all.”

Joaquin nodded, returning to the words on the document,

“I’ve noticed. You’ve been a bit jittery the past couple days.”

“And...that’ll be the caffeine.”, you trailed, as you stood and stretched your limbs out.

“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

Joaquin glanced up from the desk, shaking his head as a smirk grew on his face. The bruise under his left eye had slowly been healing from the past mission, along with a large cut along his forehead.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Oh really? Then what’s the face for?”

“What face?”, he laughed and stared at you incredulously.

You leaned your hands against the back of the chair as pointed at him,

“That face that says I’m judging you.”

“This is not a judgemental face. This is the face of someone who is concerned about you.”

You’re quiet, allowing Joaquin to continue as you grip the back of the chair. Averting your eyes to the floor, your stomach plummets. Thumps palpate in your chest as your blood seems to pump harder.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

You gulped down your anxiety, making eye contact with Joaquin so as to convince him and yourself as you spoke.

“...Yeah. I’m fine.”, you nodded your head and smile with the lack of enthusiasm that brings his attention to it. Joaquin cocks his head to the side, trying to see deeper into your mind.

“Y/N-”

The door bursts open as another uniformed soldier leans in the doorway.

“Lieutenant, I’ve got an update waiting for you, Sir.”

Joaquin stood from his seat, nodding his head at the officer.

“Alright, thanks, you can hand it over.”

The soldier nods his head, leaving the folder on the desk before shutting the door. You huff out a sigh at the tension and silence filling the office. Joaquin gathered up the remaining papers on the desk into neat piles, tidying the space.

“Look, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m electing not to sleep and I’m getting more work done.”

“You can’t live like this, Y/N, you’re gonna run yourself into the ground.”

“Yeah well right now, I’d rather not face those fears. Got bigger fish to fry right now.”, you purse your lips and nodded towards the folder.

You exit the office, wandering the first level of the base offices. Your arms press against the railing as you drop your head and listen to the bustling of people and machinery echo across the base. Slumped over the railing, you concentrate on counting your breaths as you hear Joaquin’s feet stomp closer to you.

Joaquin leans next to you on the border as you refuse to move, knowing that your façade of calm will chip as soon as you look at him.

“Y/N, if somethings bothering you, you should tell me. I know you feel that keeping it to yourself is better than admitting it but trust me, it’s a lot worse.”, he leaned down to meet your gaze as a stoic blank expression overcame you.

Your throat tightens and clench your jaw to suppress the sob building in your chest.

You’ve always been alone with your thoughts, threatening to crack under the constant pressure behind your skull. The Avengers had been an unconventional setting but you created close relationships with a few of them. Some you lost along the way because of uncontrollable things but you wonder.

You wonder if maybe something was wrong with you.

If it was your fault why they always left.

Why no one stuck around for long.

Tears glimmer, threatening to fall but you exhale a long breath out, turning to him. You twiddle your fingers, jaw clenched as you choke out the words in a whisper.

“...okay.”

Joaquin’s posture straightened as you stepped away from the railing and nodded your head in agreement.

“I’ll try. For you, Flyboy.”

He hummed and a small smile grew on his face at the nickname.

“That’s all I ask.”

Looking over his shoulder, you recognise a familiar face.

“Hey, Wilson.” you called over Joaquin’s shoulder, causing Sam’s eyes to flicker between the two of you.

“Hey, Y/L/N. I see you guys are spending extra time together…”, Sam implied with a smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Sam’s implications, nudging his arm.

“It’s about time he kept me in the loop.”

He recognises the dark circles under your eyes and how tired you look but elects to ignore it.

“You alright?”, Sam asks.

You look up at Joaquin as his lips twitch upwards in a small encouraging smile. His hand slides across the railing, hovering next to yours as you reply.

“I’m right where I need to be.”

You trail off as you notice Sam’s stiff posture and tension as he glides his hands into his pockets.

“How are you?”

After the huge declaration of America’s new ‘Captain America’, you were infuriated with the SHAM. Walker had done nothing to deserve that shield.

It was Sam that Steve chose.

It was Sam that deserved the shield.

You can only imagine how upset he is feeling.

Sam almost shrugs, tilting his head as he doesn’t know how to express all of his feelings about the situation.

You all glance towards a screen as a poster of John Walker holding up Steve’s shield is shown.

“Seems like a good guy. You met him?”, Joaquin asks.

“No.”, Sam replied.

“Thanks for doing this on such short notice.”

“Yeah. No sweat. I’m just finishing up the checklist. You’ll be all good to go once you land in Munich.”

“I’ll be in the air with Joaquin so you can keep us updated…”

You trail off because your attention phases to Bucky Barnes’ entrance. With the fury in his step, you can practically visualise the daggers Bucky is sending towards Sam as you descend the stairs.

“Shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

“Good to see you too, Buck.”

“This is wrong.”, Bucky interjects.

Bucky follows Sam, cutting him off to interrogate.

“Hey, hey, look, I’m working, all right? So all this outrage is gonna have to wait.”

Bucky narrows his eyes,

“You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”

Sam is aghast, “No, of course I didn’t know that was gonna happen. You think it didn’t break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?”

“Steve didn’t want this.”

“Oh, my God. What do you want me to do? Call America and tell ’em I changed my mind? Huh?”

Joaquin rests a hand on your shoulder, bringing your attention back to him,

“I’m gonna go ahead and set up before we leave.”

You nod, acknowledging him, gripping his hand,

“I’ll be right there.”, sending him a reassuring smile.

You watch as Sam and Bucky tussle in an argument over the shield and then the mission.

You find yourself striding up to them as Sam stomps off alone towards the plane.

“Hey stranger.”

Bucky turns around and his eyes light up in recognition. He flicks over your tired eyes and sombre expression.

“Sam didn’t know this would happen.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have given it up in the first place. It doesn’t belong there.”

“Bucky… I know how much that shield means to you... But you have to understand that Sam did what he thought was the right thing. We have to accept that. It’s what Steve wanted.”

“This is not what Steve would have wanted, Y/N.”

Bucky is fuming at the thought of the man parading as Captain America.

“I know, I know, Bucky. But we gotta work together to solve this one.”

“Just like always.”

He hummed, looking at the plane.

“Fine, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m mad at him.”

You sigh but agree because you know your boys are stubborn.

*****

You sit up on a crate as the plane flies below the drop-off zone for Sam and Bucky. You were sitting this one out to surveil with Joaquin from above.

“One minute to drop off, Sam.”

You watch Joaquin as he assesses the distance below and the time on his watch. The cuts and scrapes on his face have mostly healed but the blue and purple bruising under his eye remains.

“So what’s our plan?”, Bucky asks Sam who ignores him as he positions his com in his ear.

“Great. So no plan.”

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance, sitting back down in his seat.

“Thirty seconds!”, Joaquin yells, looking out into the open air.

“I’m reconsidering sending those two out there alone.”

You glance anxiously between Sam and Bucky as the tension in the plane stirs.

“But they’re not alone, because they’re going together.”, Joaquin points out.

“That’s the part I’m worried about.”

You smile unconvincingly at Joaquin as you listen to the men bicker.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck.”

Bucky rejects Sam’s use of the nickname,

“No, you can’t call me that.”

“Why not? That’s what Steve called you.”

You roll your eyes at the childish banter between the two. You were considering the amount of logic and coordination between the two of them but then again, you were too tired to get on board for this mission.

“Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan.”

“Why couldn’t Steve be here?”, you whisper sarcastically.

“Fifteen seconds to drop.”

“I have a plan.”, Sam defends.

“Really? What is it?”

Sam ignores Bucky, jumping from the plane. Joaquin peeks his head out in amusement as Sam ignites his suit and flies off. He still wears that look of amaze on his face since the first time he saw the suit.

“Great. Where’s the chute?”, Bucky asked, looking around.

“We’re at 200 feet. It’s too low for a chute.”

“I don’t need it anyway.”

Joaquin perked an eyebrow, glancing at Bucky from the side,

“You sure about that?”

“No! I know that look Bucky and I swear-”

“Yeah.”, Bucky sighs, yelling as he drops from the plane.

You and Joaquin both stare out into the open air as Bucky plummets into a tree, slowing his descent.

“What. An. Idiot.”, you exclaim from beside Joaquin.

“That looks like it hurts too.”

Pulling your sleeves down, you shiver and pull back from the open door to return to your seat.

“He’ll be fine. I think.”

Joaquin slides the door shut as its seals with a hiss.

You retract back into yourself as your thoughts return in the quiet.

Luckily, Joaquin is there to push them back.

“Hey, join me upstairs? I’ve gotta track activities for Sam from up here.”, he waits for your answer.

“Sure.”

He steps aside to let you walk up the steps first, sliding behind you as you reach the second floor. His hand ghosts over you back, guiding you across to the computers.

You flirt around the screens, leaning your hands against the metal frame. Joaquin’s hand roams around different radars and dials as he reads them. You watch from your spot as he concentrates, although, his eyes float up to check on you, every so often. You’ll pretend not to notice the suppressed smirk that threatens to rise on his face at your stare.

You push that brewing anxiety aside but not without strain. Not without a little help from that pure and inviting calm that Joaquin brings.

***

TAGS:

@asoftie4bucky @remmysbounty @cjsinkythoughts @bubblegum28universe @farfromjustordinary @hocusbowie @alainabooks143 @marvelnerd18 @samscaptain @alexlynn16 @dontstahpmemeow @plllover86 @petewentzfrommcr80 @literallyjustfanfiction @captainbarness @parkjammys @the-and-sign-anon @nialeesato

#joaquintorres #joaquintorresxreader #joaquintorresxy/n #joaquintorresimagine #buckybarnes #samwilson #marvel #mcuxreader #marvelxreader #marvelseries #tfatwsxreader #tfatws #tfatwsimagine #joaquin torres x reader #tfatws x reader

168 notes · View notes