#I am NO LONGER above crying on the bus (joke)(not joke) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oneshotnewbie · 3 years

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Your works are insanely good wow! Could I please request anoter one where the reader is Amelia’s little sister and Arizona’s gf and the three of them get into a car accident where the reader is off worse (she’s in the backseat and stuck and Amelia keeps holding her hand and stroking her head and Arizona is hysterical) Amelia and Arizona try to keep the person they love the most alive but are scared out of their mind.

An exhausting day was successfully behind you and you have never been as overtired as you were in all the years of your studies and five years of internship as a surgeon.

A bus accident where the bus overturned and injured thirty people, including almost half of them young children, was on your agenda today. A lot of them had only minor wounds and injuries that needed care and their parents had to be informed, but some had harder injuries and had to undergo emergency surgery. One of them was a 14-year old girl who not only had internal bleeding and a ruptured spleen and liver, a collapsed lung due to a fractured rib and a severe cerebral hemorrhage.

She was your patient and you could no longer save this young soul, it was too late.

You usually had no problem to stay away from emotions, but telling her parents that her only daughter passed away, broke your heart and left you in a negative emotional state. If you could, you would swap places with her just so she could still enjoy her young years into her old.

No one so young and innocent deserved to die that cruel way.

You sat in the car with your sister and your girlfriend, looked out the window in the back seat and were so lost in thought that you didn't pay attention to them both.

Only when the car came to a standstill and a hand found it's place on your knee and squeezed, it tore you out of your thoughts. You looked into the blue, also tired eyes, which were colored in a dark purple by the red traffic lights.

A small smile crossed her face. You gently placed your hand on hers, which was still on your knees, and intervened your fingers with hers as you focused on the music that was playing from the radio.

The radio was all trash and some penniless musician screamed his heart out, presumably to get the attention of some teenage girls. Annoyed by his voice and the nonsense you could her in the lyrics he sang, you asked Amelia if she could turn off the radio.

When the music went out, you sighed briefly and went over your curly hair. At the same time, you played with the delicate ring on your finger. An heirloom from your grandma. Heaven, how you missed her.

The red glowing car turned green and started moving. You saw Arizona's gaze turned to you in the rear view mirror before you could drift back into your thoughts until you heard a scream and a loud bang. The car you were in was hit by a Jeep and let you slip several meters on the street before it came to a stop on a tree.

---

"Y/N!" did you hear a dull voice that sounded like a tunnel as it mixed with the tinnitus in your ears. "Y/N, come on sweetie, wake up!" this time louder, more aggressive.

Slowly opening your eyes, you looked into the face of your brown-haired sister. Almost immediately when you noticed that she had a big laceration above her brow that was bleeding quite a bit, you snatched your eyes completely open and startled.

Pumped full of adrenaline, you weren't aware that you, in fact, were more injured than she was. You weren't even aware of what just had happened. You just knew that she was bleeding. "Amy, you are bleeding!" you stated out loud.

Your body's self-mechanism immediately caused your arms to wander towards her head. In the middle of your movement, you winced and screamed out loud. A bolt of lighting pervaded your shoulder and chest, you could tell with certainty that your collarbone was broken.

"Don't worry about me, I am fine." she said softly and briefly disappeared from your already restricted view by the smoke. "Arizona, she is awake. Calm down, please."

Until recently, you didn't even notice the screaming and crying that was silenced by the ringing in your ears. Only after you could concentrate on the outside world and your ears went back to normal, did you realize who the screaming was coming from.

"Arizona." your voice was barely audible and scratchy through the fumes. Your throat started to feel dry and sandy like scratch paper.

Her face appeared at your completely cracked window. She also had a few scratches on her face, a nosebleed and a split lip, probably from the airbag that came out of her steering wheel. She was visibly shocked and it was almost impossible to find out what she was talking about through all the sobs and incomplete sentences caused by the panic.

"We have to get her out here fast, Arizona so concentrate!" shouted Amelia and reappeared in front of you, this time she was sitting in the passenger seat and tried as slowly as possible and not causing you any pain, to crawl on the free space next to you.

As the car moved as she tried to get to you, shock waves ran from your neck all the way down to your lower back. You closed your eyes in pain and immediately felt a cool wind blowing in your face.

"Try to keep your body still. It was a pretty heavy impact and you were hit the most."

Arizona was still crying hysterical by your side as she put her jacket over her hand and tried to knock out the rest of the glass in the window to get to you better and safer.

Soon enough, you felt cold fingers on your neck that slowly and carefully placed it on the back of the seat and held it while your sister checked you from top to bottom which injuries you had.

Slowly the pain moved further into the distance, the headache was now also filled with dizziness and you felt nauseous. As time passed, you became more tired and you felt too weak to speak. Your throat felt like it was filling with something.

Blood.

"Arizona, how long until the ambulance and the fire department are coming? She's bleeding internally." Amelia stopped in her movements and looked you in the eyes. A thin line of blood already formed on your lip and it stained your teeth with it. "You are gonna be fine, little one okay? Just stay awake."

You nodded and began to cough, your lungs filling up more with the red liquid and constricting your breath. "I can't feel my legs."

You looked shockingly into the face of the brown-haired one. Meanwhile she had tears in her eyes that she tried to hold back, but failed. You were aware of what it could mean and that you might have been paraplegic from the impact, but you tried to hold on to any hope that you just didn't feel it because the blood supply was cut off by the entrapment.

Amelia took your hand tightly in her and gently stroked your hair. All she could do was be with you while you all waited for help.

You got colder, the goose bumps on your body and the inevitable tremors made you even more pain that you tried not to show. The endless screams and bitter tears from your girlfriend snaked further into the distance, as in the beginning. She had her hand alternately on your cheek or neck as she wiped away some tears from you.

"I love you Arizona."

"No, take that back immediately! If you say it when something bad happens, you never hear it from that person again." she yelled at you.

But you knew how you felt. Weak, cold, barely breathing in a situation you probably couldn't get out of alive. You had to at least tell her one more time before you couldn't anymore. She had to know that you loved her to your very last breath.

"I love you Arizona."

She laid her head on her arm, which was propped up in the window pane, and buried herself while still caressing your pale skin.

"Amy," with one big, last breath you tried to keep it short, but saying the most important thing. "Best sister in the entire world. I love you too."

"No, you are not leaving us now. You are not leaving me, do you understand? You have so many years to spend here with me at your side. If you do this to me now, I will revive you and then kill you by myself!"

You laughed at her joke one last time before your eyes closed and you endowed into the distance with a smile.

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losolvidad0s · 3 years

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Culebra, A. Reyes

Summary: When you learn of EZ’s DEA deal, your relationship with Angel is put on the line.

warnings: swearing, a n g s t 😩

word count: 1.7K

a/n: hi everyone! I am slowing jumping back into the writing groove so here is an angsty Angel Reyes fic that made my heart crack right down the middle, wahhh. Love my emo baby Angel. Enjoy! Thank you for +350 followers!

taglist: @cind-in-real-life @kchavez666 @dearsamcrobae @courtrae89 @cocotheclown @brattyfics @gemini0410 @angelreyesgirl @jasmine10128 @briana-mishell24 @starrynite7114 @est1887 @joannasteez @amorestevens @bidenbussy @empireroyals (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

(gif belongs to @haydenpanettieres ✨)

“Please, EZ, tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”

EZ looks at you with soft eyes, a defeated expression painted over his face as he remains stoic. If there was a chance this was a prank then you’d just wait til the boyish grin forms on his lips but that never comes. He brings his hands to hold the front of his kutte, a defense mechanism of his.

A heaviness settles in your chest and the pit of your stomach as his words begin to replay in your mind. He tries to give you an apologetic look as you process everything. After a few moments, the worry turns into frustration then quickly to anger.

“I made a deal with the Drug Enforcement Administration that got my sentence reduced to half by becoming a part of the Mayans MC to get Intel on the Galindo Cartel.”

Your hands push against EZ’s chest, which he wasn’t expecting, causing him to stumble back. The shoves keep coming the angrier you get. “Y/N, stop.” He tries to get ahold on your wrist to stop you but the adrenaline fuels you to be quicker than him for a brief moment.

Eventually, he is able to grasp and hold your wrist steady between the two of you and as you try to break free, you cry out. “How could you? How could you do that to him? Why, EZ?!” The break in your voice when you scream his name makes him let go and step back. Your face now wet with tears, voice well on its way to becoming hoarse.

“I had to, it was the only way. If I didn’t then..”

You scoff, “Then what? You’d have to finish your sentence? You choose to hurt your brother rather than finishing YOUR sentence that you got YOURSELF into? How selfish of you. You disgust me!” Your shoulder harshly collides with his as you walk off.

When EZ had asked to grab dinner, you didn’t expect it to end this way. After getting a bite to eat at a favorite food truck, he took a different route back to Angel’s apartment, saying he needed a friend. You thought it could be him needing to talk about how things have been hectic in the MC. Being a prospect and all.

“Y/N.” He calls out to you as you walk away from him in the darkness, you don’t go very far though. You feel defeated knowing all of this is only going to end one way, Angel’s heart being broken. You slowly turn back, “He’s gonna hate me.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

This relationship with Angel has been a rocky one. It’s been on and off for the past year but when EZ was released from prison and began prospecting for the MC it somehow helped Angel to establish a foundation with you, opening his eyes in some way. He saw how loyal you were to him and that you were the only constant. But with this, that could jeopardize it all.

EZ watches you as a million thoughts run through your mind. He can see that you’ve been holding your breath for sometime now, “You can’t tell him.” You couldn’t believe you were saying it. Whose side are you on anyways? Would this be considered fraternizing with the enemy by asking him to keep quiet?

His brows crease as he steps forward, “Whaddaya mean, Y/N? I have to, eventually. The DEA, they need intel and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this under the radar without risking someone getting caught under the bus. Me or them.”

“EZ, this will break him beyond repair. I can’t lose him to this. I worked very hard to get him to want me the way he does now. And the second he realizes I knew, I’m dirt to him. I can’t have that. So no, don’t tell him. You can figure out a way to keep this under water while still holding up your end of the bargain.” You plead to him, having moved closer. He searches your eyes and gently nods. A small smile appears on your lips as a rugged breath breaks through. EZ wraps his arms around you as you cry.

For a while, you thought this could all work out. It was going so well that you almost forgot about all of it. Then came the night where Angel mentioned something unexpected came up with the MC and that he’d be off the radar til the next day. It didn’t come off as worrisome with you as you’ve gotten used to these kinds of things. But then came the following morning.

You were making your way to Angel’s apartment, surprising him with breakfast. As you go to knock the door opens and a visibly angry Angel is standing there, a pile of your clothes bundled in his arms. “Angel?”

“Ah. perfect timing, here.” He drops it at your feet with force and disappears into the apartment. You stand through shocked for a moment before stumbling over the clothes to follow him. You call out his name as you set down the bag and two coffees.

He appears once again, more clothes and your bathroom bag. He flies it towards you, you trying to catch it but failing to. You have no idea what’s going on. But he mumbles something under his breath. Culebra. As if the air in the room suddenly begins to run out, barely any left to breath it hits you all at once. Angel continues to drop things at your feet.

“Angel…” You begin but he stops in front of you, his towering figure making you peer up at him. He starts to move towards you, an instinct of yours to keep out of harm's way and in this instant harm seems to be Angel. “Baby, talk to me.”

He bites his bottom lip, letting out a low chuckle, “I got nothing to say to you. In fact, it’s almost like when you had nothing to say to me. Boy scout and pops, I could see that coming. But you? Keeping a secret like that from me. For 2 fucking weeks?”

The venom is dripping off his tongue with hurt gleaming in his eyes.

You attempt to reach out and touch him, you being a physical lover rather than a verbal kind, but he pushes it away, “I trusted you, I opened my life to you despite being sketched out to do but I fucking did but you! You’re the one who can’t even be honest with me. It was always ‘It’s Angel’s fault, you dig yourself in these holes, Angel. Be real with me, Angel.’ But look, my own fucking girlfriend.”

The heat is literally radiating off him. But what excuse do you have? You shared his frustrations when EZ first told you but you became selfish and decided to keep quiet about it. You wanted the good times to keep rolling and because of the selfishness, it’s all crashing.

Angel steps away from you, “I wanted to tell you. I did!”

“But you fucking didn’t. You choose him over me, you did that knowing it meant Ezekiel over Angel! No hesitation.’ He screams at you, pointing his fingers.

A sob falls from your lips as you see him breaking like a tide taking away a sandcastle. It hurts more than you imagined it would. The outcome of telling him would’ve been immensely better than this one. Why did you think it could all go away and never come to light?

“That’s not true! Of course I thought about it.. I was upset that he would do something like that to you, I truly was but,” You nearly stutter trying to get your words out.

There were many occasions that you’ve seen Angel mad. Countless arguments, disagreements, petty acts but never like this. “But what? Hm? What, Y/N?!” He strides back over to you, getting in your face as you flinch back on instinct.

You’re quiet, averting your eyes from him. “But then I’d lose you. That’s what I was scared of.”

Angel tilts his head, “That doesn’t even make any sense, Y/N. You think I would be angry at you because of what my brother did? I’m pissed because you knew and decided not to tell me. You walked around acting like you didn’t know. I have every right to be mad! And besides that, how fucking selfish of you, thinking of you and not how it would hurt me.”

“I was scared because your brother betrayed you, because by EZ doing this it would remind you of the hurt you felt growing up. It would make you feel like you used to… which means you would lose yourself, I would lose you right in front me. And I want all of you, good and bad, but w-we had just gotten to a good place. We weren't arguing as much a-and I had been slowly leaving more and more things here.” You look down at the articles of clothes scattered at your feet.

Angel inhales a deep breath and lets it out forcibly. He looks to you then scratches his eyebrow, not knowing how to carry on the conversation. As your emotional distress begins to be felt physically, Angel takes your hand and holds it against his cheek.

This is something you both began to do when neither of you could speak. When the words wouldn’t form, couldn’t explain how you felt, the touch of hand could do it. As he holds it against his cheek, you cry more. This meant that Angel understood.

As he brings your hand back down, you leap up to wrap your arms around his neck. He does the same around your waist, breathing in your scent. He closes his eyes as he sinks into you.

You won’t ever know what this moment meant for Angel. Despite feeling completely wrecked to learn what EZ had done, along with you keeping it in the dark, Angel feels wanted for the first time in a long time. Though true you wanted to protect yourself, you wanted to protect him more. To him, that’s enough to look past the wrong you did. He knows in this moment, you are truly the one for him.

#Mayans MC #mayans mc fic #mayans mc imagine #angel igancio reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x y/n #angel reyes angst #angel reyes fluff #angel reyes smut

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dirtyoatmeall · 3 years

Text

The ways I love you (Matsukawa x reader)

A/N: I love Mattsun so much. I think out of all the characters, he’s the one I’d most likely end up actually dating, not to mention time-skip mattsun is a whole nother conversation. anyway I hope you enjoy, I just really love him.

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader (gn pronouns but references to reader being able to be pregnant)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of 18+ activity as a joke, spoilers for s2 (spring preliminaries), me not proof reading, me not knowing how to describe coming down from your tiptoes

Matsukawa liked to think he was observant both on and off the volleyball court. But as he watches you laugh from afar, head thrown back, holding onto your friends shoulder for balance, he can’t help but think, how did he not notice you before? It was enough to stop him in his tracks, unconsciously tuning out the sounds around him, blatantly staring at you as you continue to talk to your friends, a wide grin on your face as you gesture wildly, pausing every so often to laugh at the story you were telling. It took Hanamaki walking in front of him, blocking his view of you, for him to come back to his senses. He heard Hanamaki calling his name, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Hey earth to Mattsun, you okay bro?” He nodded in response, still thinking about your laugh, he wanted to know what you were talking about. He wanted to know your name. Hanamaki turns to look at where Matsukawa was focused so intently on before, grin breaking out when he saw your group. “Ahh, so that’s what’s got your attention? And which one was so lucky to literally stop you in your tracks?” He rolled his eyes in response to Hanamaki’s teasing, when Iwaizumi appeared next to him, raising an eyebrow at Matsukawa. “What’re you talking about?” Hanamaki is happy to fill the spiker in, and Matsukawa returns his gaze to your group again, before furrowing his eyebrows.

He watched Oikawa saunter up to your group, he must have called your name since you turned to face him, eyebrow raised. The setter says something that causes you to roll your eyes, hands on your hips and you respond, teasing smile evident. In true Oikawa fashion, he responds by pouting dramatically before scanning the courtyard, face lighting up when he spots his group of friends. He grabs your wrist, you wave to your friends before following and Matsukawa’s eyes widen when he realizes Oikawa is bringing you over to them. Did Oikawa see him staring? Were you somehow dating the setter? Matsukawa wracks his brain for any memories on a new fling when you two finally reach the group.

“Iwa-chan! (Y/N)-chan still won’t agree to being the manager! Won’t you convince them?” Oikawa says dramatically, letting go of your wrist in favor of attempting to lean on Iwaizumi, who promptly shoves him off, rolling his eyes. “And why would I do that? I don’t want to subject them to dealing with you anymore than they have to already.” You laugh at Iwaizumi’s insult as Oikawa cries out in offense. (Y/N), Matsukawa repeats your name in his head, wanting to commit it to memory. Though all thoughts immediately halt at the sound of your voice.

“I never said I wouldn’t, I just asked how you were gonna make it worth my while?” Your voice had a teasing lilt to it as you raised your eyebrows in anticipation of the setters response. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes again, grumbling about you egging him on. Oikawa brightens up, a flirty smile adorned as he leans closer to you, eyebrows wiggling up and down. “I know exactly what can make it worth your while.” You throw your head back, loud cackles of laughter filling the air, Hanamaki and Matsukawa chuckle as Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms childishly. After a few moments your laughter dies down, you make a show of wiping tears from your eyes before smiling. “Alright, just because I’ll get to more chances to make fun of you, I’ll do it.” Oikawa seems to ponder being excited or offended by your agreement, choosing the former and hugging you while Iwaizumi pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Thankfully Hanamaki says what was on both of their minds.

“Soo, are you guys like dating or something?” He tries to be casual, eyebrow raised when Iwaizumi snorts, “I can tell you there is no chance of that happening, ever.” Oikawa sputters as you nod, nose scrunched in disgust.

“Let me put it this way,” you pause, thinking before your lips raise into a sly grin. “I would rather be spit roasted by the coaches of Shiratorizawa and Nekoma before I’d hold hands with Tooru romantically.”

Oikawa jaw drops as the rest of them crack up at your words. “(Y/N)-chan! You have to be spending too much time with Iwa, you didn’t used to be this mean!” You roll your eyes playfully before turning to the duo to clarify.

“In all seriousness, I used to live in the same neighborhood as Tooru and Iwa when we were kids, we went to school together up until middle school, when I moved to Fukushima, but I’m back now! And I gotta make up for all the time I missed preventing him from getting a big head, obviously Iwa hasn’t been doing his job.” Said ace narrows his eyes at you, grumbling before Oikawa cuts him off. “It was horrible not having you here (Y/N)-chan! We’re never going to let you leave again!” You smile softly at his admission, and Matsukawa wonders if he’s sick, why else would he be sweating in the middle of November?

Months later Matsukawa realizes that he wasn’t sick on that chilly November day in his first year, he was, much like now, infatuated with you. While he wasn’t sure exactly what his feelings for you were, he knew he had it bad. Ever since he noticed you, he started seeing you everywhere. In the hallway, when he was glancing out the window during class, anywhere he was, his eyes always found their way to your form. It didn’t help that Oikawa stuck to his promise, and you became an integral part of their group. He was seeing you at all times of day, even when he closed his eyes at night, images of you, laughing and smiling softly, danced behind his eyelids.

And of course, it did not go unnoticed. Hanamaki was, unsurprisingly, the first to find out. Now whenever he caught Matsukawa staring at you, he’d grin amusedly at the middle blocker, wiggling his eyebrows. Iwaizumi was even seeming to catch on, a knowing look on his face, small grin present whenever Matsukawa would flush slightly after contact with you, whether it was a seemingly innocent hug between friends, or you hanging off his arm dramatically while teasing Oikawa. Speaking of the setter, he was, without a doubt, the last person Matsukawa wanted to find out about his, whatever they are, feelings for you. But he hid it well, only a few moments of weakness compared to all the other times he kept it together around you, however hard it was.

It was in his third year that Matsukawa was able to name his feelings for you, love. Love in the way his heart skips a beat whenever you laugh, in the way his hand twitches to lace his fingers through yours, in the way he can’t imagine not seeing you every day, in the way he fantasizes about a life with you; seeing you first thing in the morning, slow dancing in the kitchen to a song no one can hear but you two. He no longer hid it well, openly gazing at you with a fondness anyone could see was only for you. It seemed the whole world knew of his feelings, except you.

Oikawa found out about 6 months after you returned, the setter vowing to keep it a secret, saying something about letting fate bring the two of you together. Matsukawa no longer tried to hide it, though he wasn’t going to confess anytime soon, he wasn’t above shameless flirting, lingering touches pairing with his love-stricken gaze. Either you were the most oblivious person ever, or you knew but elected to stay silent. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.

It all came to a head the day they lost their chance at nationals.

The loss to Karasuno was hard on everyone, the third years especially. After Coach Irihata talked to the players, you step forward, getting their attention. Unshed tears shining in your eyes you smile sadly at the team. “I’m not a coach, and obviously not a player, so I know my words don’t hold as much value as they would if I was. But I don’t care. I am so proud of all of you. You worked so hard to get here, and even though the outcome wasn’t what we hoped for, I don’t want anyone blaming themselves, not a single one of you. You gave it your all, and I want you to be proud of that. I’m obviously not planning on being a motivational speaker after we graduate, but you get the idea.” A few of the players chucked, and more of them looked tearful than when you started.

For a moment you worry your words did more harm than good, until Iwaizumi steps forward, enveloping you in a hug. You let out a strangled cry/laugh when Oikawa follows his lead, the other third years joining and eventually the whole team, and you smile despite the tears running hotly down your cheeks. Over the 3 years you’ve been manager you have come to love and be loved by the team. As the group hug disperses to pack up for the bus ride home, you and the other third years linger, sharing bittersweet smiles.

The bus ride home is silent. The loss having drained the energy from the team, as many of the players are sleeping. You sit next to Matsukawa, head resting on his shoulder. As you start to drift off you slip your hand into his, sighing contentedly before succumbing to sleep. He looks down at your sleeping form, squeezing your hand as he smiles sadly. The day before he had briefly entertained the idea of confessing if they win nationals, but now, especially after your speech, he knows he can’t wait.

He gently shakes you awake when the bus arrives at the school, his heart stutters when you blearily look up at him, a tired smile gracing your features. He doesn’t let go of your hand when the two of you disembark, the first years telling you to go home when you try to help put stuff away. You tear up again, in appreciation for your underclassmen, looking up when Matsukawa squeezes your conjoined hands. He smiles and tugs you along, waving goodbye to the team before the two of you join Hanamaki and walk to the train station.

The train ride is peaceful, Hanamaki and Matsukawa talking quietly while you resume your place next to the latter, leaning into his side. You wave when Hanamaki gets off, and you sit in comfortable silence until your stop comes up. You look at Matsukawa, confused, when he gets off the train with you, He tugs you forward. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.” You try to ignore the butterflies in your gut and the heat in your face as you nod.

A few blocks from your house he stops under a streetlight, gently pulling you in front of him. Your eyebrows furrow as you search his face for any tell for his actions. You don’t know what to make of what you find instead, blush deepening when he takes a step closer and cups your cheek with the hand not occupied with your own. “(Y/N),” He sighs, and you think it sounds the prettiest when it comes from his lips. “Originally I wasn’t planning on ever telling you, and I thought about doing it at nationals,” He pauses, and you nuzzle into his hand, shifting your other hand to intertwine with his, a quick squeeze urges him to continue. “but since that’s not going to happen, now seems as good a time as any.” He takes a deep breath, taking another step forward, now toe to toe with you.

“I’m in love with you, have been for who knows how long. Well, I guess I do.” He huffed a laugh, “Probably since first year honestly. I remember the first time I saw you, I literally stopped in my tracks you were so beautiful. God, I sound so lame.” You laugh with him this time, tightening your grip on his hand. He clears his throat before continuing. “I know we haven’t really discussed our plans after graduation, but I wanted you to know, just in case there was some possibility. And when I say I love you, I mean it. I love you in the wake up next to you every morning and make you breakfast kinda way. The buy a cat together kinda way. And I understand if you don’t feel the same, I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just couldn’t not tell you, ya know? I think it would eat at me for the rest of my life if I didn’t.” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, choosing to look at your joined hands instead. Your free hand comes up to cover the one on your cheek, and he looks up to meet your gaze.

He wasn’t expecting the shine of unshed tears or the tender look on your face. You smile, and his heart does the little back flip it does whenever you direct one at him, but there’s something different about this smile, it holds unspoken promises behind it, ones he wants so desperately to hear come tumbling from your lips. “Issei,” You breath, and he shudders slightly hearing you say his name with so much emotion. “I love you too. I love you in the wake up next to you every morning smiling even though you have the worst morning breath,” He snorts and your smile grows as you continue, “I love you in the adopting two cats together kinda way, because we didn’t want it to be lonely when we’re away. I have loved you since the day you told Tooru you were my baby daddy,” You laughed brightly as you recall the memory, the horror on Oikawa’s face when Matsukawa went along with the prank.

“You fell into the role so effortlessly, and yet I never regretted a prank more, because after feeling you pull me against your chest, wrapping an arm around my waist for the day, I was hooked. Constantly thinking of ways I could touch you again.” Your face was a deeper shade of pink, bordering on red, and Matsukawa smiled as he recalled the memory, and how you were more touchy afterwards.

You turn your head, softly kissing the palm of his hand, eyelashes tickling his fingers. Your hand moves to lightly grasp his wrist when his hand moves to your neck, resting on the side for a moment before cupping the back of your head as he leaned down slowly, committing the sight of you; eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly parted, to memory. Impatient, you push yourself upward on your toes, closing the small space between you as your lips finally meet.

You untangle your hand from his, moving to bring both upwards, over his chest and around his neck as you tilt your head slightly, deepening the kiss. His hand tangles into your hair and his other hand moves to settle on the small of your back, bringing you closer as your lips move against each other slowly, pouring years of love and pining into the kiss, savoring the feel of the other. After what feels like forever, you part, panting slightly, out of breath. You rest your weight back on the balls of your feet, smiling as Matsukawa follows you, bending down to rest his forehead against yours. You close your eyes for a moment, processing what just happened, and what it means for the future.

You open your eyes as he kisses you again, this time shorter, but no less sweet. You have a dopey smile on your face when he pulls away, standing to his full height. He untangles his hand from your hair, running his fingers through it for good measure and takes your hand, which had fallen back to your sides, before nodding in the direction of your house. “C’mon, I said I’d walk you home, and we’ll be here all night if we have it your way.” He teases at the pout on your features when he pulls you along the street.

You turn to him once you reach your steps, hesitant to leave. His hand cups your cheek again, directing your attention back to his face. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like I’m gonna disappear if you leave.” You bite your lip slightly instead of answering, though he can see it in your eyes. He smiles softly and pulls you into a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise. I’m not going to miss out on a chance to rub it in Makki’s face that I got a girlfriend before him.” You laugh lightly into his chest, heart swelling at the word. You breath in the scent of his cologne, squeezing your interlaced hands before stepping back,

“Okay, tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grins at the obvious reluctance present on your features. He lands a quick peck on your cheek, ruffling your hair. He waits until you close the door behind you before leaving. He checks his phone as he walks, cursing as he realizes he only has a few minutes until the last train of the night departs.

#My writing #my favorite boy #matsukawa #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa issei x reader #mattsun #mattsun x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu reader insert

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

// good enough. oikawa tooru //

Warnings: feelings of self-loathing

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: i desperately want to comfort oikawa

He was always so collected, so put together for his team. He was a first-rate captain: talented, supportive, calculating to a scary degree. Oikawa Tooru had loved every second of it. He loved being there for his team, providing them with a much-needed laugh every now and again, leading them to victory game after game. But even the best things have to come to an end. Oikawa just didn’t expect it to be so soon. He wanted to stand on that national court, even if it was just for a short moment. He wanted to keep playing, to keep joking with his teammates during breaks. He wanted to set again, even if it was just for one more play.

But, even if the ball had hit the court for the last time, he was still the captain for a little while longer. He was the corner-stone of his team, he had to hold it all together, one last time. The sniffles and tears that flowed down the faces of the other boys of the Seijoh volleyball team were an eerie contrast to the stoic view of the Grand King. He stood in line with the others, a blank stare on his face as he thanked everyone for coming to support them. A comforting hand was laid on Iwaizumi’s shoulder as the boys turned to leave. And even still, Seijoh’s greatest weapon showed no signs of weakness as he stepped off the gym floor for the last time in his high school career.

It left you speechless. You had been prepared to pepper his face in kisses and run your thumbs over his cheeks to wipe his tears away, but there was no sadness to be found in his expression. The bright smile on his face when he saw you standing out in the lobby seemed so out of place as he led the crying team to the bus. But, still, he opened his arms up to you, wrapping your body in his sweaty embrace.

“Thank you for coming.”

And that was it. Oikawa placed a sweet kiss to your forehead, gently patting the top of your head before finding his place back amongst the other third years. His mouth was moving and then he threw his head back in a warm laugh, a desperate attempt to try to lighten the mood and bring smiles back to the faces of his friends. A swift punch to his shoulder from Iwaizumi and if it weren’t for the glistening streaks of tears on the ace’s face, it would’ve seemed like everything was back to normal. For a brief moment, it seemed like they all forgot that they had stepped off of the court together for the last time, just enjoying the simple pleasure of teasing their captain as all of the boys joined in. The Seijoh volleyball team smiled and laughed as the pout on Oikawa’s lips grew by the minute. The laughs were quiet and their smiles were still saddened by damp eyes, but for a small blip in time, they seemed happy again.

He held it all together so well. He pushed that lump in his throat down and held all of those tears back, focusing on lightening the mood for those around him, but that “I’ll catch up with you” as the other third years left the club room, the echo of the door shutting behind Iwaizumi ringing in his ears, was the catalyst to it all. No matter how hard he tried, there was no pushing the tears away any longer. They slipped from his eyes as easily as water flows through rivers. If only he had moved faster, if he had trained harder, if he had just been better he would still be on that court and he wouldn’t be turning in his uniform yet.

The club room felt so empty with all of the third years’ belongings stripped from their cubbies, the posters that Matsukawa and Hanimaki had hung up at the beginning of the year had now been taken down and stuffed into their bags. The labels that designated which lockers were theirs had been removed, the sticky residue being the only thing that gave any indication that they were even there in the first place. Everything was gone. There were no sneakers or practice clothes or extra phone chargers. Iwaizumi’s speaker had finally been taken home and the familiar chatter and laughter was now only a faint memory, never to be heard again.

His fingers folded into a tight fist, nails digging into palms as his vision blurred. One . . . Two . . . Three heavy hits of his fist against a locker, each one getting slower, weaker, until there wasn’t any force behind his sorrowful attacks. A choked sob escapes his lips, his hand slipping down that cool metal of the locker door to fall limply back to his side.

Oikawa didn’t even hear the door open. He didn’t hear anyone come in, but maybe he was so lost in his own wallows of self-pity that he had blocked it all out. Even still, your hand on his back had made him jump, quickly running his forearm over his eyes to wipe all of the tears away, to pretend that everything was absolutely fine, as if he hadn’t just poured all of his emotions out against this poor innocent locker that had been so good to him for three years. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but even still, Tooru manages a small laugh. “This wasn’t exactly how I thought you’d see me today.”

Your arms simply wrap around his torso, no words passed back to him. For whatever reason, your comforting embrace and the hand tangled into his hair that brought his head down to your shoulder brought a new wave of misery over the setter that had always tried his hardest to be the best for everyone around him. You could feel his stature shake as new tears streamed down his cheeks in heavy cascades, muffled sobs pressed against your shoulder, hands gripped the hem of your shirt, a physical reminder that you were right there, that you weren’t going anywhere.

“I’m so sorry.”

Oikawa Tooru was not a pretty crier, a drastic difference from the boy who always had his hair perfectly styled and whose smile could have an entire auditorium swooning in front of him. But, when he cried, his face turned all sorts of shades of red, snot dribbling from his nose no matter how much he tried to sniff it away, the most wracked sounds of sorrow that you’ve ever heard leaving his mouth so freely. He would cling onto you like a child every single time that he let his walls crumble, taking comfort in your embrace, in your soothing words as you petted his hair until all of those heavy sobs turned into quiet whimpers and hiccups.

“I’m sorry that I’m not good enough.”

The hand that had been combing through brown locks stills and before he can say another word, you’re pulling him away from you, tapping his chin so he would lift his face to you. “Who ever said that you weren’t good enough, Tooru?”

“I couldn’t do it. I failed all over again. I should’ve trained harder or- or practiced longer.” His voice is barely above a whisper and if you didn’t see his mouth move, you would be convinced that he didn’t speak at all. Your boyfriend made an effort to pull you back towards him, tried to get you to wrap your arms back around him, but you held your ground, stood firm in front of him with no signs of taking him back into your hold.

“If you had worked any harder, you would’ve hurt your knee again and then you wouldn’t have even been able to play. Tooru, you did everything that you could and I am so, so proud of you. I can’t remember that last time that I’ve seen you play so well. It was like watching a whole different you.” You pause, a small smile gracing your lips as you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You will always be good enough. Even if everyone in the world is screaming at you to quit, you always kept pushing forward and you wouldn’t be the man you are if you didn’t. You are not a failure or a loser. You are Oikawa Tooru, the best goddamn setter that I have ever seen, the best boyfriend that anyone could ever ask for, the worst baker in the world, but an expert taste-tester,” you tease, watching your boyfriend smile shyly at your words. “But more than all of that, you are more than good enough and I promise that I will always be here to remind you of that, okay?”

“Geez, you really are too good to me, aren’t you, baby doll?”

“Only sometimes.” You wrap an arm around his waist, leaning up to place a kiss to his lips, reassurance in each slow movement of your lips against his, taking in how his saddened features seemed to brighten ever so slightly as you pulled away from him. “Now, come on, we should probably get you home so you can rest your knee.”

“You’ll stay over, right?” He asks, brown eyes pleading down at you, his lower lip jutted out in a cute pout.

“Only if I can pick the movie.”

“Fine, but we are not watching another one of your sad dog movies.”

You smile sweetly, patting his chest. “I can promise you a lot of things, Tooru, but that is not one of them.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu imagines #x reader #imagines

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translightyagami · 3 years

Text

Mikalight Week fic: 24-Hour Gym

a short mikalight fic for, what else, @mikalightweek. wrote it sort of quick? and its not explicit but is very sensual and there’s a lot of body talk and you can basically assume they fuck after the fic (i was TOO LAZY to write the smut). Anyway.

This fic is rated BPBB, for Bench Pressing Bodacious Babes.

Quiet and soft humid air filled the gym. From the window, Teru watched him with his standard issue NPA duffel bag slung over his shoulder, laughing at a text on his phone. When he looked up, they almost met eyes and Teru turned, facing his reflection in the wall-length mirror. His black hair hung in lank strands beside his face; his grey T-shirt collar darkened into a full-leaf of sweat over his front. The gym door bells jingled as he came in, cheeks pink from the mid-winter outside and a wary smile on his face.

Of course, Teru recognized him. Kira. Light. Above the brown trendy haircut floated his full name, the kanji confusing for a minute until – congealed and solidified – the meaning existed. While Light checked in with the sleepy front desk clerk, he talked loud and high-pitched. It was a voice unlike the one Teru heard in the warehouse, the one that told him after the police and that little white haired boy were dead, to go home. To make up an alibi. And to meet him, at this little 24-hour gym, in ten days.

Watching Light’s mirror twin walk to the back lockers, Teru lifted his dumbbells on autopilot – eleven, twelve, twelve, no wait – before setting them down, grabbing the towel he tucked into his jogger’s waistband. Nervous sweat and exertion sweat mixed together, all mopped away by a monogramed hand towel. When he glanced back up, Light was at the rowing machine.

For twenty minutes, they waltzed: Light moved to a machine, doing his reps, while Teru went to a different machine, did his own program. (An unceasing eye for detail made note that Light lifted about ten under Teru’s lowest weight.) Having shed a jacket now that he’d warmed up, Light worked in a loose white tank top that hung low in the sleeve holes. Every so often, when he reached to grasp a bar, his chest swooped in and out of view. Teru caught scar tissue, though never a long enough glimpse to know its shape. He stood from the arm extension machine and walked to the bench press. All the way he felt two sharp eyes peering at him from a leg machine.

Teru set the plates: two 10 kg., and then two 2.5 kg. plates, an unusual though not overwhelmingly larger weight than he lifted on a normal night. Foolish and near school-boylike, he wanted to show off in front of the other man. After setting the weights, he leaned back and rested his head beneath the long metal bar – and waited. The sound of God walking, a long stride with confident footfalls, was familiar in Teru’s ears. Head haloed in florescent, Light bent above the metal bar with arms outstretched.

“Do you need a spotter?” His tone suggested a joke – ha, ha, who else but me – but Teru only heard the question in serious.

“Yes,” he said, and it was then he realized these were the first words he’d spoken to Light in public. How apt, how right, that their exchange be God extending his hands to help Teru carry such a heavy burden. Light hovered his palms just around the silver length, eyes trained on Teru as he wrapped fists at either end and – oh! – lifted. Every rep, staring directly into a brown-eyed microscope, and Teru almost shook, lost his strength, when their hands nearly brushed. He managed ten reps before gently resting the bar back in place. Sweat dripped off his neck and above him, it made gems across Light’s forehead.

“Wow,” Light said. “You’re pretty strong.”

“T-thank you,” Teru cursed his stutter. He didn’t expect the compliment and it made a little flower burst inside his concrete encased heart. The flower only grew the longer Light looked at him, smile just a pink curve, eyes unnervingly genuine. It was a look that fake people in movies gave each other – Teru hated how much he liked to trust it. God had to be genuine – a kingdom of justice would never stand on false ground. Light’s stare trapped him with a weight deeper and heavier than any dumbbell, and when he glanced away, Teru gasped. His breath had flattened in his chest.

Light left first, at midnight, and when Teru went to his own locker at one thirty am, he found a note shoved into the air slits. On the note was a phone number and curt letter L for a signature. He folded it into the smallest triangle he could, having memorized the number, and set the paper beneath his tongue. As Teru packed his things, nodded to the gym employee, walked into a cold and calamitous city sidewalk, the paper poked and scraped the inner wet flesh. Pain in little bites followed him on his walk – each bright moment a moment of God beside him. Do you need a spotter? A question, a divine extended hand. Wow. You’re pretty strong. Strong, a warrior disciple, God’s most beloved. And, at the platform for his train home, he swallowed the dissolving note – communion.

Teru started working out in high school, when a gym teacher suggested a natural physical ability like his could use sculpting and recognized in him a perhaps genetic inability to play on a team. Ever since the first time, he took to the regimentation, the preplanning and trackable results of gym life. Within the walls of his usual club – the membership to which took up an embarrassing but necessary amount of his pay – Teru found ritual. A work out was an offering to the divine in his own body, and now it became religious practice, a modeling of himself into a better tool for Kira’s will.

This late night arrangement became weekly. On Tuesdays, Teru and Light worked out in the same hole-in-the-wall 24-hour gym, just them and one employee. Two owls dancing around the machines, Teru knew both their stares were gobbling each other’s body behaviors like so many tasty mice. He saw in Light a similar high-school athletics resolve, although the way his muscles smoothed rather than fit into shapes spoke more to sports than targeted workouts. Teru resisted his own snobbery in this observation – though he found a dedication to the perfecting of the body rather than to sportsmanship more pleasing. Kira had his reasons, maybe, for choosing athletic pastimes. There too was a certain leanness to Light’s body as well. Even with a layer of more authoritative muscle, he looked vulpine, foxlike in his lithe frame. His posture retained the slight slouch that many people who were slim in their young adult hood had; in fact, Teru only recognized it since he himself trained it out of his own habits a year prior.

And, yet, the flurry of observation – itself a thrill in its artificial intimacy – didn’t compare to those few minutes where Light leaned over, put his elegant hands out, and spotted Teru’s bench press. He took to doing them more often than his usual schedule. Combined with the bigger weights, an unevenness grew in his routine that Teru would never have allowed before. He couldn’t stop himself though. Anything for a few moments close enough to Light to see the split of his lips, the sweat trickling over his flushed cheeks.

On the fourth week, while Teru wiped down the leg press after he used it, Light approached him.

“Hey,” he said. “Isn’t weird how we’re always in this place together, but we’ve never learned each other’s names?”

“Mikami Teru,” Teru said. The tone was straightforward, and his volume normal – and still he imagined how imprudent he sounded. “I don’t usually go to this gym.”

Light narrowed his eyes and shook his head, just enough to say not the plan. Up his back, Teru’s spine stiffened. It was no joy to disappoint Light.

“Well,” Light said, slick voice untwisting the frustration in his gaze and presenting a smile that bordered on pretty. “I’m Yagami Light. I’ve really admired your routine. Maybe sometime we can meet up. I’m no good with workouts, not like you.”

“Oh. Yes.” Teru nodded. Meet up? Before he could ask a clarifying question, Light spoke over his concerns.

“Call me tomorrow,” he said. “I’m free after five.”

He walked away, not leaving a number except the one boiled in Teru’s stomach. No matter how heavy the weights he lifted, no matter the volume of the baby crying on his bus home, all Teru thought of was his phone and tomorrow after five. His palms itched.

He called at five twenty the next day, having rushed home after a meeting went long, and Teru never heard a worse noise than the ringing before Light picked up. On first answering, his tone was unpleasantly gruff, accusatory – a man in the drag of an older, wiser man. It clashed with the smooth youthfulness of Light’s voice in the gym, which only returned when Teru tentatively said his own greeting.

“Oh! Mikami,” Light said, a balm over the scratches left behind by his put-on masculinity. “You’re calling so late. I thought maybe you forgot.”

“No,” Teru said. “Never. I don’t forget important things.”

“Mm,” Light said. Behind his voice was a tapping sound, someone hitting paper with a pen. “I’m honored to be an important thing. Say, I didn’t catch it before, but where did you say you lived?”

Teru sat on a kitchen stool; he’d been standing, impatient, in the breakfast nook as though preparing to run to wherever Kira needed him. But the question set him down – why did Light want to know? And was it safe to say over the phone? Realizing he’d left dead air too long, Teru muttered that he lived further south – about an hour from the 24-hour gym.

“Oh, I see,” Light sounded mildly perturbed to be have been waiting. “I was just thinking, my girlfriend is making cookies and I thought I’d send you some. Do you have an address that’d be good?”

His girlfriend? Teru didn’t press but his stomach sank. However the phrase stung, he listed his apartment address in dutiful detail. In his ear were the soft scratches of Light’s pen writing everything down and, once he finished, Teru coughed. He didn’t want the phone call to end.

“Did you play sports?” His question flowed out in a proper, clear way, and Teru congratulated himself on how normal he sounded. “Maybe in high school?”

Light went quiet and when he spoke again, the words were cold.

“I played tennis,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“I only wondered because,” Teru scrambled for something less damning to say, “you’re in such good shape but don’t like to work out. And usually that’s because of sports, I find.”

“Ah,” a low simmer melted Light’s voice. “You like to work out, don’t you, Mikami?”

“Mm,” Teru said. “I enjoy the time to work on my body. Physical fitness is a key to leading a good, worthwhile life.”

“Interesting,” Light said. He tapped his pen before popping his lips. Their wet click was at once disgusting – the body, the spit, the base physicality of it – and alluring – the body, the spit, the parts of Kira blessed by his own inner spirit. “I’ll send those cookies tonight. Expect them at your door around midnight, hm?”

“Oh.” This wasn’t about cookies. “Yes, I’ll look for them then. Thank you, Light. That’s very kind of you.”

“I’m always kind to my friends,” Light said.

At midnight, Teru heard the curt knock of the one he waited for. Standing in the hallway of his apartment building, wrapped in a coat, green sweater and black jeans, was Light. He smiled when Teru gestured for him to come inside – a good, well-raised smile. In a small childish part of himself, Teru wished to return such a pleasant smile. Instead, he nodded and raised his eyebrows as Light pressed a plastic box into his hands.

“I wasn’t lying, before on the phone,” he said, shaking off his coat. “My girlfriend was baking. She insisted I take some to meet my new friend. My recommendation?” Light swung around, coat on his finger and a wryness to his expression. “Toss them. Misa can’t bake.”

“How unfortunate,” Teru said. I’m a passable baker, he thought.

Light walked further into the one-bedroom space. He put his coat onto the black lacquered hat rack’s lower rung, ran a finger across the tight gray rectangle couch, and complimented the large entertainment center Teru built. When he let it slip that, in fact, he’d built it himself, Teru saw a curl of interest in Light’s gaze.

“I’ve always liked building too,” Light said, shrugging. “But never something so well constructed.”

He wandered into the sitting room and looked to his feet, a play-acted shyness. Nothing in his body language bar the glance down suggested timidity. Teru followed, although he knew his own behavior was less confident. Light flicked his eyes up and stilled Teru’s movements.

“I’m proud of your actions,” he said. “How well you served me, served the kingdom Kira hopes to build.”

A tremor worked through Teru and he sat, unable to keep his legs steady. To be acknowledged made him eager and fraught. Without thinking, he bowed his head, and a warm palm pressed over the back of his neck. Light murmured something.

“What did you say?” Teru asked, eyes going blurry the longer he stared at his own lap.

“I said,” Light slid a finger beneath his chin, tipping Teru up and into his line of vision. “Do you think you could bench press me?”

“I,” Teru frowned, his instinct to refuse presenting weakness. He fought past it. “I can try.”

The smile from before – polite, the kind a mother asked for during family pictures, toothless – warped into the brilliant split Teru recognized from the yellow warehouse. Light smiled in high volume, loud and greedy.

“Perfect,” he said. “Let me undress.”

“Undress?” Teru’s resolve wavered and he stood.

Light shrugged, already popping the button of his jeans.

“Won’t you need better traction?” He asked. “My clothes might cause your hand to slip.”

Breathless, Teru watched God strip down to a pair of black briefs. Shirtless, the two pink scars he saw glimpses of before swiped just beneath Light’s nipples, which hardened in the air-conditioning. Mental deduction took Teru up to chest surgery, although he couldn’t pinpoint the reason. As he stared, Light’s eyes took on impatience not unlike when Teru slipped up in the gym.

“Do I not please you?” Light raised his eyebrows, swinging out his hands. “Do you find God wanting in some way, Mikami?”

“No, no,” Teru covered his mouth. “I apologize for the imprudence. I only was curious.”

“Keep curiosity to the cats,” Light said. “Now, lay back and we’ll try this.”

Teru pushed his coffee table to the side and laid himself down on the sitting room rug. Flat on his back, Light leaning over him almost nude, a strange helplessness infected him. No matter what happened next, he had no real choice other than what Light chose for him. It didn’t help that Light’s gaze had an almost lepidopterist’s leer – staring at a captured butterfly and wondering what pins to use on its corpse. Teru shook himself inside; Kira didn’t think of him as a butterfly. He was a servant, a faithful one, and Kira found him strong.

Stretching up his arms, Teru cupped his hands and met Light with his own stare.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, “slowly place your waist in my right hand and your thigh in my left.”

Light nodded, walking around to stand next Teru’s shoulder. He bent in a gentle arc and his waist was the first thing to touch against Teru’s palm. In a shift, the confidence of before didn’t echo in Light’s actions now. He was cautious, still leaving one foot on the ground as he laid himself into Teru’s grasp. A muffled groaned left Teru; even with his weight distributed away, Light was still heavy.

“Um,” Light said. “Is it okay to let go?”

The question was human, quiet, and Teru wanted to file it away suddenly. He took a deep breath, wiggled his fingers where they held Light, and nodded.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

Light gasped as he lifted his leg. Balanced between Teru’s straining arms, he hovered untouched by anything but air and the other man. Teru was in pain – not just from the difficulty of holding up an adult man but from how good Light felt. He was warm, soft, and yet at the same time hard, solid muscle beneath the skin. Gritting his teeth, Teru heaved and lowered his armload until Light’s hip was just above his mouth.

He couldn’t help himself; Teru kissed the bare skin. His lips slid just so over goosebumps, tasting hints of salt and body lotion. Even partway through, he wanted to kiss the vulnerable hip again – memorize the flavor of Kira against his mouth. Light trembled and let out his name in a rasp.

“Mikami,” Light whispered. “Fuck.”

No answer occurred to him, so Teru lifted Light back up. As charged as the moment was, a small part of him celebrated being strong enough to, in fact, perform one bench press of another human. Light squirmed in his hands, too much, and without warning, Teru’s grip loosened. God fell out of his palms and landed hard on Teru’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“Ah,” he shouted at the same time Light yelled, “Fuck!” They sat in sore heap. Teru rubbed his hands together, over and over. He’d failed; he let Light fall, hadn’t been strong enough to keep him stable. With trepidation, he glanced toward the other man prepared to see anger in God’s eyes, but instead Light stared back at him with arousal. His eyes were hot, molten, and his movements became languid.

“You’re so strong,” Light said, and now his voice was like nothing Teru ever heard before. There was a wildness mixed in with hunger. Light looked at him, and Teru wanted to be devoured.

“I knew the moment I saw you,” Light crawled up Teru’s aching body, his words like lava poured from his mouth. “You would be my strongest one.”

“I want to be strong for you, God,” Teru let out. “I want to serve you, be your sword.”

“Oh,” Light laughed, and it was an abrupt sound. Teru couldn’t say he liked it but the brightness in Light’s cheeks was good.

“You’ll serve me very well,” Light said, brushing Teru’s hair away from his ear so he could speak into it. His voice burned into the delicate shell. “Mikami.”

“Teru,” his voice came out a little weedy, yet Teru met Light’s hot gaze with his own resolve. “Call me Teru.”

#me me me #subtextual #death note #my fic #mikalightweek #mikalight #mikami teru #light yagami #sorry if mikami is out of character or any other number of complaints a person could hv about this fic!#he's a character i rlly struggle with and i tried to write him with as much humanity as possible!#anyway! enjoy Mikami Bench Pressing a Half-Naked Light

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thecrenellations · 3 years

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Return of the Thief Notes, Part Three: The Book of Pheris, Volume 2, Chapters 6-14 and “Alyta’s Missing Earring”

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part One | Part Two | TaT)

Contents: Elephants, guesses about gods and dead men, villain team up, the unexpected, AAAAAAH, elaboration on the word cloud above (which is one big Gen, medium Pheris, medium love, and scattered other names), and more quantitative analysis! I love this book.

Format: Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Chapter 6

285. unkingly moment, last night with her at home

MISMATCHED STOCKINGS (I have a thing about this.)

Wedges of ribbons?

285. cute

286. a pitneen? A drunk bird?

Wait. Gift of animals??? Did he steal the thunderbolts wearing it?

A canary no longer

287. Hilarion and Ion, wow

Throw a cup of wine on me

288. War pants! War pants!

What’s Attolia wearing?

Sophos! (the whistling!)

288. Ok fine it’s gonna be sad ... I say as if I didn’t just experience the trial (the last lighthearted moment)

Pepper!

Be careful Pheris

Also Relius went to Dite and Juridius, right? (I was convinced Dite would show up)

Sinerine!

290. SOCKS! Yay <3 magus

I was resigned to not much magus but he is HERE!

He’s … so much nicer than he was to the kids in the Thief, lol

A CART!

Lamb, falling in same paragraph. Worried.

Gen :( Gen you ran all over the palace and leapt in the water last night. You are so stupid.

292. Yay Sophos I love you

Math buddies!

294. I’M SAD.

They have had this convo before

I love them

It’s because I can that I think I should

295. Do not overreach. Eddis is right

Danger in self indulgence?

I love her! “I was outside chasing your brother with a stick”

296. My heart. You have to trust yourself. I don’t know if I can. Then you have to trust us.

Tactical Irene!

Thanks I’m gonna hold on to it: “The Call of life is a s powerful as the call of death, and it is no weakness to answer to it”

297. Oh no. My children. Tell each other things like that!

Great time to be childish, Gen.

Yeah honestly. It’s bothered her FOREVER

299. Pull it together, kids!

Thx Helen

Inkpots … :( :( :(

Chapter 7

302. See … that Continent occupation isn’t good either!

303. Unfortunately that is NOT an alternative. Bc volcano.

305. This is stressful.

Chloe, interesting

306. Elephants

Oh my god it’s better than I ever could have imagined (there was like 10 years of lead up to the elephants, and I thoroughly enjoyed them)

I love him

Gen wtf

Yes drink up those guards (“We could keep [an elephant] in the guard’s bathhouse! There’s plenty of room.” “And the guards will bathe ...?” “In the palace reservoir.” “Our drinking water.”)

#6 Gen about elephants

308. This is gonna be a disaster

Hilarion with an eyeglass

Fuck Pheris is making this up.

Gen I love you

Oh my god

Honestly idk if Gen is having fun but I AM

They’re. They’re such a power couple.

Also Bu-seneth is so rude to Attolia

309. so vague about battle, but I’m sure it’s horrible

310. hero talk. Chills.

311. all the woman comparisons for Gen (“Would [a world with no war and no heroes be a bad thing?” “That’s a woman’s question”)

Wow. Interesting. Anonymity

312. Don’t listen to them Gen!

Bad tempered cooks

313. lol. Good looks.

Gen. the hand joke. Why

Well that was … a scene (I don’t know my Henry V)

Reassuring to have a glove. Which one?

314. No. Bad. This is what I was afraid of. (Nahuseresh baiting Gen with Kamet)

Ok Pheris

315. That cannot be true. (it was not!)

Gen. No. No.

316. Wow. That worked out well. So far.

They called him annux. If Kamet is really dead…

319. Yeah Attolia is RIGHT

Yeah I can’t actually either!

Irene knows. In his story!

320. Glove resolved very fast

Interesting reversal (Gen and his dad)

Maddening!

Chapter 8

322. who’s charging off in a haze of glory now

Philologos wounded

Wait, the attendants follow him in to battle...

Cleon RIP

Temenus <3

No. Stenides

If they ever returned.

His brother died in an explosion

Gen’s tears

This is sad.

323. lion lamb :(

325. At least they have each other

Morality is an illusion. Like safety?

326. that’s what Costis was mapping, right? (nope)

How many has Gen killed now

328. Who. Pol? Ambiades? (The cairn man question remains)

Oh no

Oh no. you can fall from a horse

HILARION!

Is Fordad a spy?

I am just not accepting this yet

WAIT THE MEDES TOOK HIM! (I thought the Attolians had taken Gen, or Gen’s body, at first.)

330. wow things only Pheris can do

GDI Erondites

WOW THIS IS A VILLAIN TEAM UP

332. You gave it to him dude (Nahuseresh asking “Why does he still have this?” about Gen’s hook)

I love Gen. I wonder if he’s afraid.

This is bad.

Whose treason, whose betrayal?

333. Yeah! Kamet said so (“Tell me again that you are king.” “Annux, if you prefer.”)

334. Oh god.

Get your stories straight bastards

Rolled in a rug!

336. Oh gen

Oh god

Yeah this is …

Be careful what you ask for

338. What did he sign as, though, Attolis? Eugenides?

Nomenus wtf

What does mwt have against facial hair (Fordad, Nahuseresh)

Costis please come (idk how I thought he was going to help, but I was in Costis Denial and expected him to show up at any moment)

Everyone must be going through a lot

A face like an open grave

Gen.

Gen I love you

YES

Is he … invulnerable now?

Gen what.

Is he possessed? Is he already a god?

341. Yeah same. (“I think he meant that I should not fear him, either. I did, though ... I still followed him”)

This isn’t being self indulgent or overreaching, is it?

342. RIP Ion Nomenus

“My work”

Oh Nomenus

Does he just exist for the morally gray and loyal angst feelings? It works (...)

344. What did he DO

Yes! Swearing Gen!

345. love all caps Gen

Those names

Aaah

346. Ooof.

Chapter 9

347. moon promises

Yeah

Noooo Philologos :(

Legarus … :(

349. Gen what what

Sparks

Costis? Stenides? STENIDES?

Wow ok he killed Bu-seneth

350. god

See I said Nahuseresh shouldn’t have said that

Also is Gen a bastard

351. WHAT (“Because your council had just voted to kill him”)

Oh Helen

Oh Irene

Does he invite him in?

This is reassuring to the reader (“He can bear his god a little while without losing himself”)

Aaaaah Galen

354. Gen that’s a lot. A lot.

Don’t kill everyone.

So so so x7 of doom

Bye Yorn

I hope he wins too

Go away Nahuseresh

Omg

another fall

Interregnum

Ok it was Lader (when you don’t know who the man at the cairn was, keep on guessing!)

Yeah the circumstances thing is back

Oh god

Oh no

Chapter 10

361. how long has it been?

362. three days

I love them (Elephants! My excellent queen!)

You promised to trust him

364. Oh no. Oh no. (Relius)

370. These Helen convos…

371. Sad. :(

372. Emtis and Lader

Yeah.

Omg

374. Wow

Steal by elephant?

377. Don’t forget about Dite!

378. He’s gonna kill him?

379. Is Dite dead too?

Oh Sejanus

Oh I see

He’s got a mercy taste too

380. Switching!

Lying in moonlight. Hm.

381. Yesss

Nooooo

383. I’m nervous

Gods blessing on your road

Wow. <3

They would have fallen… (if Pheris had gone through with his plan, that’s how they both would have died)

Did not expect Sejanus feelings in Rott.

Chapter 11

386. He’s gonna know. But the trust.

Ion knows.

390. Gen…

Pheris is Lyopidus?

I’m scared

393. I kind of love Ion

More Sejanus, bring it on

I’m nervous

Hmmm… who could it be

395. MoW :( <3 I will not be ok if he dies too

Gen knows the way bc Costis (nope)

Oh my god these two (“I lied” “I know”)

Chapter 12

398. Oh no.

This is not

Her Thief

Irene. “only sleeping” this is what Eddis said to her

But mist… water???

Face touch

402. not living or dead. King

Yes. But no.

403. crying at everything and the MoW next to him

There he went

It was the Eddisians. He fought with them.

404. yeah that’s a lot to deal with, Pheris

405. what a mystery man (Sejanus)

Lol mysterious exit averted

Excuse me that was a difference

406. :(

Am I king

407. Helen is once again right. She’s also always right

MOIRA was Melisande???!??!? (who even knows)

409. ?? Irene?

Same as for Dite. Man loves his brothers. (nephews. you know what I mean.)

Nice.

AAH yup. Add it to the list (“How neatly you tie them together” ... the list of is ways Gen and Irene are becoming more like each other)

410. speaking of which where is Costis!

Hm… what god was that

I love their reactions

411. SPLENDID.

Oh Irene. It’s true <3

It’s so true (“When the king gives his heart he gives it completely”)

Now I’m crying again, at them

412. Gen, she has a point.

Amazing. I … I don’t think she meant to ask like THAT

Jesus, Gen.

You do not know a wagon from a wheelbarrow

413. Irene!

She’d better get home safe.

Gen!

Omg

414. I have another bad feeling, about Gen

415. High king or queen though?

Magus <3

Chapter 13

416. “of course”

That’s ominous

417. No! Sejanus!

A gut wound yikes

418. sadness

419. lol “ill will”

We’re in Roa. My heart’s pounding.

422. I love Gen.

YESSS

Yes I love them.

Sheep.

Kamet!!!

?!?

Costis. Mattresses exist.

424. Oh no.

426. roof dream

Good roof dream

Good job Helen

428. TWINS. Everyone was RIGHT

Reyatimi

Oh shit. The sky.

Oh dear. :( aaah

430. Climbing the rigging!

“it’s just that you have so many least favorite things”

431. I love them (Gen and Irene)

432. I love them (Gen and Helen)

433. RIGHT! I was thinking

I can’t <3 (they’re naming the baby after the MoW, and it’s perfect, and she’s not gonna tell us, huh)

OH MY GOD!!! (baby thief!)

WOW!

434. AAAAAAH (Hector! @threetoadswaltz finished reading before me and knew that I would explode about this and I DID, I threw my arms in the air! HECTOR!)

PERFECTION!

435. AAAAAAAAH (this was when it became clear they were going to dance on the roof)

Yes she was (as surefooted as the king)

Is this the first time she’s Irene

Yes.

I’m filled with happiness

Celia and Lavia again … lol.

Lol Chloe

THALIA

CRENELATED wall

HE’S ALIVE

Kamet is a sweetheart

The gods!!!

The gods!

Aracthus

Mystery goddess?

Ula?

Moira! Yes!

(I was very happy. The page itself:)

Alyta’s Missing Earring

Wait. Was it Alyta.

Glad we got a bi god (with all due respect to Immakuk and Ennikar, whose bi-ness and godliness is perhaps more up to the reader)

Got very bi very fast

Also. He’s Gen.

Interesting difference in story

Kathodicia!

Are we literally getting ALL the answers? (No. But so many more than I expected!)

Gen’s grandfather sucks

An urn huh

Omg. Heiro’s earrings?

Oh my gosh.

Same, Gen. Same.

Obvs Phresine knows.

Is Phresine a goddess?

Same, Gen. Same.

She got to tell a story! She is so happy!

I think he’s a little scared

Moleskin

Yeah peace huh

This series is socially sanctioned silliness

1000 Eugenides. Wow.

They did melt though

Little thief.

<3 <3 <3

He’s a character in a story

A big question

Tamarisk? Takima? (We are not getting all the answers.)

That’s it! Thank you for reading - it feels very self-indulgent to type up all of these, but I will honestly take most chances to relive the intense and wonderful experience of reading this book for the first time, which often means looking back at my own notes and sometimes means sharing them with people. Also, I really love reading liveblogs/real-time book thoughts, so here is one from awhile ago ... all at once.

Anyway, check out this word cloud from all of the notes (made with this site):

It’s ... mostly just character names, with a variety of words that express my enthusiasm and feeling (love, lol, wow, yes, excuse me...). Gen is the biggest because I said his name 115 times! Here are some totals for the other characters who came up a lot:

115 - Gen (and 10 Eugenides)

42 - Pheris

26 - Costis

18 - Irene (and 6 Attolia)

16 - Helen (and 8 Eddis)

10 - Sophos (and 4 Sounis)

12 - the magus

11- Kamet

11 - Teleus

10 - Relius

9 - Ion

6 - MoW

6 - Moira

5 - Sejanus

These don’t fully represent how much I had to say about them, because I didn’t always refer to people by name or title ... which kind of explains why Costis’s total is ridiculously high compared to how much he is in the book - I likely have more notes about other characters, but I didn’t need to bring up their names because they were already present in the scenes I was taking notes on (for example, I think I talked about Relius more than Teleus, the magus, or Kamet, but many of those just referred to him as he, because it was obvious to me who I meant). But also I was just looking for Costis! Anyway. My use of names and titles for the monarchs also really illustrates how much this book reshaped the way I think of these characters’ relationship to them, Gen’s and Irene’s especially.

It’s representative of my feelings about this series that I wrote “I love them” about so many combinations of characters. Who, exactly? And how many times? Well...

5 - Gen and Irene

4 - Gen and Helen

2 - Gen and Pheris

1 - Gen, Irene, Helen, and Sophos

1 - Helen and Sophos

1 - Costis and Kamet

1 - unknown combo of Gen, Pheris, and Relius on p.166, I love them all and can’t remember. Kamet’s map was there, too, and I do love Kamet, so maybe he was in there too.

no matter what the numbers say, I love them all endlessly, and I love this book.

be blessed in your endeavors, yes I will take any questions about these notebook screams, etc.

#annotating this caused me to look back at so many scenes i will never be over #aaah #return of the thief #the queen's thief #mwt #return of the thief spoilers #rott spoilers #something i #hey #threetoadswaltz #i tagged you because i mentioned you but reading this is not Required #you know it all anyway. ... this time ;)#it was just your exploding comment

12 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 3 years

Text

Ruby & Cosmo

Ruby: Dying to know is every date colour coded? ❤��

Cosmo: Oh, God 😅 How unintentionally cringe

Cosmo: That sums up how well it went, sadly

Ruby: the quick reply had me thinking you were back early or answering in the middle of dinner

Cosmo: 🤫

Cosmo: I’d never!

Cosmo: It was a favour and I think that showed

Cosmo: She’s my cousin’s friend and just got dumped, sweet girl but perhaps not ready to be great company

Ruby: explains the 🌹

Cosmo: Not very personal or too basic?

Ruby: a nice try if it was your first date ever but I know it’s not

Cosmo: Thank God I didn’t get another bouquet 😏

Cosmo: They weren’t buy one get one free though, before you say

Ruby: they looked expensive

Ruby: she would’ve felt guilty throwing them back in your face

Cosmo: I told you I weren’t texting under the table, why would she need to?

Ruby: you told me why, they’re impersonal & basic

Ruby: & heartbreak makes you unhinged

Cosmo: I wouldn’t call her unhinged

Cosmo: at least not to her face, right

Ruby: 😅

Ruby: or your cousin’s

Ruby: Are you staying out in town or going home to change?

Cosmo: I don’t fancy showing up in the club in this

Cosmo: never mind hearing what my friends would have to say

Cosmo: What are you up to?

Ruby: the VIP area has seen worse, you don’t look like you raided the Gucci sale rail, eyes closed

Ruby: & your friends have worn worse, but I won’t say it to their faces

Ruby: I’m waiting for my own friends to be done making their own questionable outfit choices as usual

Cosmo: Careful, that was almost a compliment and not just a drag of the lads

Cosmo: not undeserved on their end but what did I do to make you decide to be nice to me?

Cosmo: besides entertain you with my dating woes whilst they redo their makeup, again

Ruby: You know how to dress, it’s a fact

Ruby: & I didn’t decide to be nice, it just happened

Cosmo: Not that you’re not usually nice in general

Cosmo: but here I am, feeling special, like 💖🤩

Cosmo: It’s also a fact, though not an impressive one, that I’m not lame enough to go in for that negging bullshit, so whatever I end up doing, calling you a bitch ain’t on the agenda

Ruby: there you were down in the dumps about your disaster date, I thought I’d try to help

Ruby: I wouldn’t, it only works for Mason when everyone’s too busy watching his feet move to care about his mouth & that’s not the audience you’ve got atm

Cosmo: I think I’ll survive

Cosmo: but I appreciate it

Cosmo: I’ve seen him get in trouble for his mouth plenty of times on the pitch

Cosmo: but referees aren’t ones to be sweet-talked so…

Ruby: your expensive roses are wasted on them 🥀

Cosmo: That is the real tragedy 💔

Cosmo: I reckon 🍷 could work on your dad though, whaddya think?

Ruby: aren’t we beyond bribes? I thought we were

Cosmo: You don’t have to go up for contract renewals

Cosmo: but I was joking, so don’t tell him he’s on a promise there

Ruby: oh yeah, it’s a joke you being worried you won’t get renewed

Ruby: he doesn’t shut up about you after a few 🍷’s with your dad

Cosmo: Sorry you’ve had to witness/hear that

Cosmo: can’t help my case

Ruby: it wouldn’t be realistic to entertain you or let you entertain me if he wasn’t on board

Cosmo: No?

Ruby: secrecy & sneaking around would be impossible unless we could both drop what we were doing at a moment’s notice, which we can’t

Cosmo: True

Cosmo: Neither of us has the time for that

Ruby: or the anonymity

Cosmo: You aren’t wrong

Ruby: 💖🤩 back at me?

Ruby: you’re being agreeable, above & beyond the Sunday roast standard you set when everyone was listening in

Cosmo: Agreeable from you I can take

Cosmo: I didn’t know any of you guys were going to be there, so if I wasn’t on top form

Cosmo: I’d love to have a second chance to do it better, of course

Cosmo: Somewhere more exciting than family dinner

Cosmo: and no impersonal and basic 🌹s

Ruby: I’d love to skip the club tonight, it stopped being exciting forever ago

Ruby: there’s your chance

Cosmo: Alright

Cosmo: I’ll make something happen and I’ll send you the place and the dress code

Ruby: pastel colours wash me out

Cosmo: What kind of place would be pastels only? 🤔

Ruby: [name drop somewhere boujee that you’ve been probably with your mum and godmother lol]

Ruby: you wasted the ❤️ on the wrong girl 💔

Cosmo: She wasn’t wearing red

Ruby: it was never going to work out

Cosmo: That might be for the best

Ruby: tbd

Ruby: but I’m not feeling like I’ll cry or talk about any of my exes so it’ll be better for you

Cosmo: And for you

Cosmo: not that you’re letting me be impressive with a bar that low but you know

Ruby: you’ll get over or under it if you want to

Cosmo: If I couldn’t rise to the occasion your dad definitely wouldn’t stand for it

Ruby: I won’t either

Cosmo: tbd

Cosmo: I heard

Ruby: another girl has beat me to denying you everything, I have no choice but to switch it up to keep things interesting

Cosmo: Has hard-to-get worked since the days of negging?

Cosmo: You’ve got all the choices, and no need to play any sort of game with me

Cosmo: Let’s have a good time

Ruby: it might have worked for people who want a different reputation than I do

Ruby: that’d wash me out too, the whole projection of intense cold bitch energy

Ruby: a good time is more doable

Cosmo: It wouldn’t get you very far, I understand

Cosmo: We all have to be some type of way to get to where we need to be

Ruby: yeah & talent has to be backed up with 😁✨

Cosmo: A winning personality, of course

Ruby: if I don’t have that both of my parents & coach are going to lose it, definitely

Cosmo: Well, you don’t need to worry about that, from my perspective

Ruby: from my POV neither of us will be worrying until the alarm wakes us early tomorrow & it’ll be too late to stress it by then

Ruby: the good time’ll have already happened

Cosmo: I’ll drink to that

Cosmo: [something that’s between the restaurant moment we just took Savannah to and the normal clubs they would go to, idk what that would look like, like a club that’s a bit sassier than the beyond standard ones footballers and WAGs would hang in]

Cosmo: but I won’t start without you, like

Ruby: not counting the 🍷 if the 🍝 soaked it up

Ruby: but what do you want me to wear? 🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎

Cosmo: ❤️ off the table then

Ruby: the bar hasn’t fallen through the floor, I’m not okaying you wearing the outfit you chose for her & me dressing to match it

Cosmo: 😅 I’ve gone home but alright

Cosmo: I want to see what you come up with, actually

Cosmo: I’ll show you I’ve got better than the jumper, don’t worry

Ruby: I’ll do better than a roast with the fam, talk about a low bar

Cosmo: I think you’re probably incapable of looking bad

Ruby: try keeping me up all night & you’ll see

Cosmo: I won’t be the first or the last to show up to practice feeling less than 💯 … are all the other ice skaters perfect 😇s?

Ruby: I’m not giving any details of who isn’t, you’re a date down tonight as is, I’m not getting ditched for someone even more 😈

Cosmo: About how that looks

Cosmo: ‘cos I know

Cosmo: We aren’t going to post anything are we?

Cosmo: I’m not looking to add to the poor girl’s 💔 and I know it’s a dick move to not even wait ‘til tomorrow

Ruby: 📵

Ruby: getting into a fight with your cousin over me is even more Romeo & Juliet than sneaking around behind my dad’s back, we all know how it ended

Ruby: drama in the routine is fine but off the ice it’s not cute

Cosmo: Drama on the pitch depends how you feel about diving

Cosmo: but I appreciate that

Ruby: how I feel about diving depends how much my brother has got to me & I want to get him back for it

Cosmo: 🟥 or 🟨 depending on the day

Ruby: 🟥 usually

Cosmo: I feel that

Cosmo: about my own, usually, not necessarily yours but I can see the how and why there too

Ruby: yours made an impression, not at all good

Cosmo: That’s his speciality

Ruby: 😬 brothers bring the mood down when they’re ours

Cosmo: Neither of them’s invited

Ruby: it’ll make a change not to see mine out

Cosmo: That’s unlucky

Ruby: but you’re on to a winner with the location, congrats

Cosmo: I had a good feeling

Ruby: I’ve got one too

Cosmo: 💖🤩

Ruby: a compliment to last until I get there

Cosmo: tbd 👋

Ruby: ❤️

Cosmo: [so obviously this night is gonna go better than the awkward date, though that’s not hard soz Savannah, but also a step above the standard club moment of every weekend hence we stay out longer than we usually do when we’ve got an early start tomorrow]

Ruby: [and equally as obviously if you found enough to talk about when you were around all your annoying relatives for that roast I’m not worried about you struggling for a convo tonight, you’re both cute and have things in common and there’s clearly a vibe]

Cosmo: [I don’t think anything needs to happen tonight but it’s obvious you like each other ‘cos you could both be bothered to show and do this]

Ruby: [agreed it feels legit to who you both are and your priorities to wanna take things a bit slower than that, like it’s clearly unlike her already to do this when you were literally on a date earlier and staying out later than planned is also something neither of you do a lot so]

Cosmo: [yes, we’re not that kind of boy, not saying you’ve never slept with anyone obvs lmao but we’re not a different gal every weekend energy at all]

Ruby: [likewise neither calling this gal a nun or a slag but I doubt she's been out with that many people cos of a) her busy schedule and b) the lowkey famous dad and brother thing that would make some lads wanna try it on for that reason]

Cosmo: [exactly dr phil, you wanna skip to the AM of it all?]

Ruby: [absolutely boo]

Cosmo: 🟥 or 🟨 for keeping you out past your bedtime then?

Ruby: Are you willing to take credit or am I blaming a messy friend’s man troubles?

Cosmo: That depends

Cosmo: we would have to find a friend we’d mutually not mind throwing under the bus and I’m not sure if my brain is capable rn

Ruby: it wouldn’t be taxing to mine to think up someone believable, if you’re keen to show up to my door with 💐 & fool my dad that it’s the first move you’ve made

Ruby: for rep’s sake

Cosmo: The 💔 is all around

Cosmo: a hangover will have you feeling that way

Cosmo: are YOU keen for me to show up at your door with 💐s, that’s the real question here

Ruby: I’ll start getting hangovers when I’m old, it’s a scare tactic before, not a real thing

Ruby: impressing my dad doesn’t necessarily impress me

Cosmo: 😂

Cosmo: That’s alright, I already have impressed him, so it’s definitely not my intention here

Ruby: let’s hear what your intentions are

Cosmo: Now you’re bragging about how un-hungover you are

Cosmo: How about you let me set up a second date and we can talk about it then?

Ruby: a brag would have a selfie attached, I was reassuring you I’m not suffering mild alcohol poisoning like most of our friends

Ruby: a second date for when?

Cosmo: I’m pleased to hear it

Cosmo: it doesn’t make for a pretty sight

Cosmo: [pisstakey shot of some of the lads dying in the changing room or wherever like ew lol]

Cosmo: Send me your calendar and I’ll see?

Ruby: 😬 lovely [but send him something similar of the girls obvs and then your calendar of course, I’m cackling because what if the only time they can both do is tonight so that looks really extra when you’re both not]

Cosmo: They’d kill us for that 😏

Cosmo: [we so could, lmao okay]

Cosmo: Well, it looks like either we double down and go for tonight or we give it a rain check and see in a couple weeks 🤔

Ruby: tonight works for me but it’s you who’d be doing the work to think of somewhere else with wow factor

Cosmo: Undefeated with two wins sounds a lot better than one

Ruby: yeah & I don’t want to talk about weeks on the bench

Cosmo: Be a bit of a dirty tactic to put the blame on you for not going out with me tonight if I get benched but

Cosmo: If it works I’m not above it

Cosmo: So, what kind of place are you looking to avoid tonight?

Ruby: do we need to avoid anywhere or flash photography? your cousin & the girl they forced you to date can’t stay mad forever

Cosmo: No, we don’t have to

Ruby: 💖🤩

Cosmo: Understood

Cosmo: I’ll get back to you

Ruby: 🚫🍷🥃🍸🍹 can be tonight’s rule if you need a break

Cosmo: I don’t

Cosmo: I just needed to know what you want to do, and now I do and I’m thinking

Ruby: I know you don’t need it to have or be fun, me either hopefully

Cosmo: I think you’re fun

Cosmo: and it’s definitely tragic if you have to rely on something like that, that’s not me

Ruby: it’s nobody I know or would count as worth knowing

Cosmo: Totally

Cosmo: Okay, I’m going on the pitch, send you deets later

Ruby: don’t mess up or I’m going to cancel tonight & I don’t want to so that’ll be us both in bad moods 😘

2 notes · View notes

vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

only fools rush in / part eight: of flowers and freeing words

TW: sexual innuendo (thanks, Remus), mention of hospital visit, mentions of cancer/chronic illness, VERY vague mentions of domestic abuse, vague mentions of sex, cursing, anxiety attack

chapter summary: Patton reflects on his relationship with Remus, his friendship with Logan, and just... everything.

---

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Patton wasn’t sure if he believed in fate. Sure, his mom would read him fairytales as a kid and he hoped that someday, he would find where he was meant to be. But he had worked hard to get where he was, taking care of his mom when she got sick, helping to run the flower shop all throughout high school and helping when he could now that he was in college. Everyone he had dated in the past always felt… like a background character, or one of those characters in video games that you only really deal with for one quest and then you don’t see them ever again. A part of his journey, yes, but not someone to join him on the rest of his journey.

And then he met Remus. Remus, who was so unlike anyone he had ever dated, who looked at Patton like he held all of the stars in his hands, who held him so gently after their moments of intimacy that Patton almost felt like a porcelain doll, so fragile, so ready to break in the hands of the person who he loved so dearly, as long as Remus was happy.

It had all happened so quickly; from the moment they met, Patton was in it. Their first date was unlike any other he had ever had, because they both broke down their walls. And as they grew to know each other more, as they progressed physically and emotionally, Patton wanted more and more to believe that Remus was the one he was made for. That, perhaps, Patton Hart, in his mother’s womb all those years ago, was being crafted just so that he could be held tenderly by Remus Creative.

He didn’t want to lose that. He couldn’t bear the thought of it falling apart; perhaps that was why he reacted so negatively to what Roman did during the power outage. For the first time in his life, Patton had something that he was terrified to lose other than his mother, Logan, and the flower shop. And even though Roman was one of his best friends, maybe especially so, he couldn’t bear the idea that the theater major would get in the way of what was, in Patton’s mind, meant to be.

It haunted his every thought, though. When he curled in Remus’ arms, the fresh afterglow settling above both of them, when he sat in his child development classes, when he cut the stems off of the flowers in the shop, it was all he could think of: Roman’s letter. And now he felt guilty for holding this grudge over him, but he didn’t know how to resolve things; until he realized that opening night of the musical was coming up.

“Hi, Mama,” Patton said, stepping into the flower shop, Remus in tow. “How are you today?” She swept him up into his arms, pressing kisses into his hair and on his cheeks.

“Much better now that you’re here, darling.” Her eyes fluttered over to Remus, who smiled, holding his hand out, but she pushed it aside and brought him into the hug as well. “Remus, you look very nice.” Remus glanced down at his outfit; he was wearing his dark green suit and had his hair brought back into a bun; it was the opening night of the play and they were making a quick stop before going to see it.

“Thank you, Ms. Hart.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping away to look at some roses, allowing time for Patton to explain what he needed.

“Yellow roses, Mama. For friendship,” he said thoughtfully, glancing at the vase he had dropped off with her the other day. “The usual fillers are good, though.” He fidgeted with the ends of his pink skirt a little bit. He had also dressed nicely; it was almost like he and Remus had decided to cosplay as Elphaba and Glinda. Patton wore white pumps, a white shirt with a sparkly bow tie was tucked into the skirt, and some sparkly tights. Remus had nearly dragged him into the bedroom when they met up at the apartment earlier. That would have to wait until later, though, because Patton didn’t want to miss a single moment of the musical.

Patton cheered louder than anyone for Roman, even louder than Remus (which… seemed impossible, but he managed to do it). The only person who rivaled his deafening cries was Janus, who beamed with joy and proudness whenever Virgil was on stage. And even Logan had to brush a few tears from his eyes at the end of the musical, when the entire audience stood and cheered as soon as Roman stepped out into the curtain call.

After the curtain call ended, Janus, Logan, Remus, and Patton stood expectantly where they knew Virgil and Roman would be coming out. Janus held the bouquet for Virgil, and Patton had the one for Roman. They stood there for a while, watching as families and friends greeted the actors and then left, and soon it was quiet.

“Where are they?” Patton asked hesitantly, and he shared a worried look with Janus. “Do you think Virgil had another anxiety attack?”

“They’re probably just fucking,” Remus muttered, his hands snaking around Patton’s waist, leaning down to press his lips to his earlobe. “Exactly what I’ll be doing to you later tonight, little flower.”

“Re!” Patton flushed hard, batting away Remus with his free hand. Janus smirked, a low chuckle escaping as he watched the encounter with the two. “You keep making moves like that and you’ll get nothing but a door in your face tonight.” Patton was teasing, of course, but Remus stepped back, a hand clapping on Logan’s shoulder as the two discussed a project they had in a mutual class.

Finally, Roman and Virgil stepped out of the green room, their hands intertwined. They were both cleaned of their makeup and costumes, and it occurred to them all that since the two were dressed in intricate costumes and makeup for the tin man and the scarecrow that it would take them a little bit longer to finish cleaning up. Janus moved first, scooping Virgil into a big hug, murmuring how proud he was and complimenting his work. Patton stepped up to Roman hesitantly, holding out the bouquet of flowers.

“You did amazing, Ro,” he said quietly, smiling up at his friend, whose eyes brimmed with tears. Roman took the vase with flowers, then set them on an empty table before hugging Patton tightly, sobbing into the smaller man’s shoulder. “Hey, shh, it’s alright. We’re okay, Ro.” As the two hugged tightly, he felt a pat on his shoulder, and glanced to see Logan, smiling brightly, but shaking his head, as if to say ‘you idiots, I love you.’

“Get in here, nerd,” Roman muttered before pulling the smartest of the three into their hug. Patton didn’t know how long the three stood there for, but when they pulled away, Janus was still hugging Virgil tight. Remus gave Roman a brief hug.

“Proud of you, bro. Though I still say the medieval play in high school was your best,” the mustached twin said, and a look of realization crossed Roman’s features.

“You… saw that play?” he asked, and Remus nodded, confused. “Mom and Dad said you didn’t want to go.”

“I sat in the back corner, but I was so proud of you, Bro-man.” Remus smirked at the nickname he had used in the past for his brother, and Roman laughed, pulling his twin in for another hug. “You did awesome tonight.” Patton apparently had snapped a photo of the pair hugging with his polaroid camera, and thus entered the struggle over who would get to put it on the fridge.

Janus won that fight.

Patton sat alone at one of the tables in the schoolyard, his brown paper bag full of goodies that his mom made sure to include. It was scary, starting in a new school halfway through the year, and all of the other kids made fun of the flowers he brought in for his new teacher. Then they made fun of him for wearing a pink sweater, for his big round glasses, and for having long hair that his mom had put into a bun for him that morning before he got on the bus.

So, there he was, second grade, sitting all alone. He didn’t mind, because he knew that when he got home, he’d see his mom, and they’d be safe.

“What are you doing?” A voice said from beside him. He looked up to see a boy with square glasses, neatly combed hair, a polo shirt, and a tie. Patton remembered him as the boy who answered all of the questions during the science part of their class. “This is my table.”

“O-Oh… I’m sorry. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to sit.” Patton looked down, trying to hold in his tears. He didn’t want to be known as the kid who cried on his first day at the school, and his mom always knew when he’d been crying. “I’m s-so sorry…” The other boy sighed, sliding into the seat across from him and setting a book down.

“It’s fine, just stay quiet so I can read, okay Patton Hart?” he asked, and Patton looked up at him through teary eyes.

“Y-You know my name?” His voice was shaky, and he slid his glasses up to sit in his hair so he could wipe his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. The other boy nodded.

“You’re the new kid. You have a frog backpack and a notebook with a kitten on it,” the boy said matter-of-factly. “A little bit frivolous, but if it’s what you enjoy, then there is no harm there.”

“Fribolous?” Patton asked, giggling. “You use a lot of big words.” The other boy sighed again, adjusting his glasses.

“Yes. Frivolous. F-R-I-V-O-L-O-U-S. It’s something that does not have any serious purpose or value,” he explained, and Patton nodded, face deep in thought.

“You know that underwater sea animal, porpoise?”

“I am aware of them, yes. Why do you ask?” he asked, and Patton giggled, having thought of the perfect pun.

“So… if I put a porpoise with serious guy glasses and a tie on my notebook… would it stop being fribolous?” He giggled all the way through his joke, and the other boy groaned.

“That was… awful. Why did you do that?”

“I thought it would be funny,” Patton said, sinking down a little. “D-Do you not like jokes?” He thought about his father, who never made any jokes around him. Who glared at Patton whenever the jokes came out of the small boy.

“I do not think that they lead to important discussions, is all,” he explained, and Patton nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. Then realization struck.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. I’m Logan Crofters.”

As the weeks passed, Patton stayed sitting at Logan’s table, dishing out puns whenever necessary but mostly asking Logan about different kinds of science-related things. He liked the way that Logan explained things; he made a lot more sense than their teacher, sometimes.

“Am I bothering you?” Patton asked one day. He had slid over his grapes to Logan, who was munching on them between reading paragraphs from a book about frogs.

“What?”

“Am I annoying?”

“No, Patton. you’re not annoying.” Logan seemed a bit exasperated with the question, but he answered it anyway.

“Are we friends?” Patton’s eyes were focused on Logan, it had been so long since he had a friend that wasn’t his mom or one of his many stuffed animals.

“Oh. Um… I don’t know. I’ve never had a friend before.” Logan’s response was curt, and Patton’s jaw dropped.

“What!?” He jumped up from where he was sitting, then ran over to sit next to Logan. “Can I be your best friend, then??”

“Um. Sure?”

“Yay!” He wrapped his arms around Logan tightly.

Logan ran into the waiting room of the hospital, finding Patton sitting on a chair, his head in his hands. He approached him quickly, a hand instinctively going to his best friend’s back. “I got here as soon as I could, is she okay?”

“She collapsed, Lo. I just… She went into the back to rinse off the new roses, and when I went to check on her… she was on the ground.” Patton leaned into Logan’s shoulder, tears staining the polo shirt he was wearing. “The doctors say... it might have come back, but they’re running tests.”

“She’s in good hands, Pat. I’m going to text my parents and let them know that I’ll be here with you until she goes home, okay? And then I can be there for you.” Logan’s phone was in his hand, and he sent a quick text.

“Tell me something logical, please,” Patton whispered once the two were seated together, hands twisted together, Patton’s head on Logan’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and just got a nod in return. “Well… logically speaking, a bee should not be physically able to fly–”

“Lo!” Patton was giggling, his grip tightening on Logan’s hand. “You know me so well. Thank you.”

The morning after opening night of the musical, Patton entered the apartment, yawning. He didn’t get much sleep thanks to Remus, and he was hoping to take a nap before delving into studying for his final exams. When he entered the apartment, he found Logan sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of him.

“Hey, Lo. No Janus?” he asked, glancing around. Logan shook his head.

“He went home a while ago. Roman and Virgil are still in bed, though,” he explained, stretching his arms up. “Did you have a good time with Remus last night?” Patton’s face reddened at the question, and he nodded. “Does Hannah like him?”

It still caught Patton off guard whenever Logan referred to his mom by her first name, but they had been friends for almost fifteen years, so of course it made sense. Logan could call her mom, too, if he wanted to. He was there whenever Patton needed him, whenever she had a doctor’s appointment that Patton couldn’t drive her to because someone needed to look after the store.

Patton wondered why Logan did all of this. Sometimes he thought back to that time when he asked him if they were friends, all the way back when they were first getting to know each other. And Patton, little Patton, just… proclaimed them as best friends. Did he shoehorn Logan into their friendship so that he could never branch out?

No, that couldn’t be true, because Logan joined debate and chess and academic decathlon in high school, but still spent all of his free time with Patton. And even once Roman and Janus and now Virgil and Remus entered their lives, he still regarded Patton as one of his best friends.

“Hey, you look like you’re having some troubling thoughts, Patton. Want to talk about them?” Logan’s voice was pulling him back into the present, and he nodded, sitting on one of the stools. He was quiet for a bit, though, and Logan kept writing some notes down until Patton finally started talking again.

“Are you just my best friend out of convenience? Because I claimed you so early on and never really had any other friends? Do you just… stay my friend out of pity?” Patton was looking down until he felt Logan’s hand on his back, and then a laugh came from the usually stoic man.

“Patton, you’re my best friend because everyone else is annoying. If I didn’t want to be your friend I wouldn’t be, you’re a lot to deal with but I’ve been dealing with you for fifteen years and I plan on dealing with you for many more.” Logan’s voice was serious, and Patton could tell that he meant what he was saying. He leaned into Logan, wrapping his arms around his best friend.

“Thanks, Lo. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Pat.”

Patton’s arm burned, but in a good way. Underneath the plastic he could see the vibrant colors of his very first tattoo, his mother’s favorite flower and a bee sitting on its petals, to remind him of Logan. He didn’t tell anyone that he was getting it, not even Logan, so when he got home to find Logan sitting at the kitchen table doing homework while talking to his mom, he was surprised.

“Lo? What are you doing here?” he asked, putting his arm behind his back so neither of them could see. He kissed his mother on the cheek before sitting on one of the chairs beside them.

“I came by to study but Hannah said that you went out for something,” Logan explained, pushing his glasses up further on his nose.

“What did you do, baby?” his mother asked, glancing at him carefully. He was still hiding his arm, but he smiled and brought it out, settling it on the table.

“I uh, I got a tattoo, Mama,” Patton said hesitantly. She looked at it carefully, smiling a little bit. “A sunflower. Your favorite.” Logan eyed the tattoo as well, nodding in understanding. “To celebrate you beating the cancer again.”

“Patton, will you take me to get a tattoo?” Logan’s voice was there suddenly, and the two Harts looked at him with surprised expressions.

“Lo, you… want a tattoo?”

“I want to get a constellation tattooed on my shoulder. The one that was in the sky on the day we became best friends.”

Patton leaned into Remus’ side, the taller man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. They were at the cafe, the others having gone home long ago to study or sleep, but the couple stayed long after, chatting with Remy whenever he brought them over refills on their drinks or small pastries. Remus’ grip got a little tighter around Patton each time he shone his signature bright smile at the barista, earning a soft thigh squeeze from the smaller man and a kiss on the cheek. Maybe that was why he did it; not because he was worried about Patton flirting, but because his boyfriend always comforted him with those delicate touches and sweet kisses.

The bell above the door to the cafe rang gently as a few men stepped in. Remus glanced out of the corner of his eye at them, and he thought his heart would stop. “Shit,” he muttered, looking down, earning a confused squeak from Patton. “Shit, we need to go. Right now.” Patton glanced over at the group of men, all dressed in leather, covered in tattoos and piercings, evil smirks on their faces as they noticed Remus.

“Do you know them?” Patton asked softly, and Remus buried his face into the other’s shoulder, a small note of truth escaping his mouth. “Are they…?” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Patton wasn’t a fool; he could tell by Remus’ body language and the way he tensed up that this was the group of boys he had spent time with in high school. “I’ll go pay our tab, will you be okay?” Remus said nothing but gripped onto Patton tighter, shaking his head.

“Remus Creative,” one of the voices said, dark and gritty, and Remus cringed, looking up at him. Him. “Looks like you found yourself a precious pansy, hm?”

“Fuck off,” his voice was weak, trembling, and the memories of those eyes tore through him.

“Aw, don’t worry, kitten, he’ll tire of you soon enough and you won’t have to deal with his voices and crude comments,” another one said, and Patton considered lunging at him, but held back, because Remus was trembling beside him.

“Everything alright, babes?” Remy was there, thank god, and Patton smiled sweetly at him, taking his debit card out of his pocket.

“Can we pay off our tab, please, Remy? We have to get going,” Patton said, his eyes flickering from the barista to the men, and a wave of understanding seemed to cross Remy’s face, who nodded and took the card, going back to the counter speedily.

“Running away again, Remus?” That voice asked again, and the mustached man shuddered, unable to look away from the grimace on his face. “You were always so good at that.” Patton’s frown deepened, and he glared at the man. “Aw, are you going to try to defend him, little kitten? Trying to be so cool with those floral tattoos–”

“I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF!” Remus was standing, his fists clenched, glaring at the men. Patton scrambled to his feet, a hand gripping the back of Remus’ jacket. Remy reappeared, handing the debit card to Patton, placing himself between Remus and the group of men.

“Alright, boys. Get out. You’re not welcome here if you’re going to torment some of my best customers.” His voice was firm, and they all glanced at the ‘Manager’ title on his name tag. “I don’t want to have to call the authorities. Get. Out.” The group scrambled out the door, the bell clanging almost annoying to the three, and Patton’s arms were around Remus.

“Hey, you okay, babe?” he asked, feeling his taller boyfriend shaking, his head low. “Shh, it’s okay, everything is okay, we’re okay.”

“Are you babes gonna be okay?” Remy asked, still standing there, arms crossed as he watched the group of men outside in deep discussion.

“Thank you, Remy,” Remus finally spoke, his voice still low. “If you hadn’t stepped in… I might have done something I’d regret.” Remy smiled, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, no one messes with my babes like that,” he said before going back to behind the counter. Patton’s lips were against Remus’ cheek, grounding him.

“Let’s go, Re.”

Remus woke up, feeling Patton’s arms around him loosely. The smaller man was snoring softly, and Remus smiled, carding his fingers through the fading pink hair. When they got back to his bedroom last night, he needed to be grounded, and Patton was there, being gentle and soft, his hands and lips all over his body until Remus felt relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Patton groaned a bit in his sleep, stretching his arms and legs, his eyes fluttering open to meet Remus’. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice heavy with sleepiness. “Morning, little flower,” Remus said, leaning down to press a stinky-mouthed kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Thank you for last night.”

“Oh. Of course, honey. Anything for you,” he said quietly, but Remus could tell something was on his mind. “What did they mean by… you tiring of me, or running away?”

“Before you… I never really had a… committed partner. I’d run at the first hint that things were getting serious, when they said those words, I ran,” Remus explained, looking down. “But… that’s not going to happen with you, Patton. You mean so much to me, you’re… everything to me.”

“Everything?” Patton asked, a smile appearing on his face, his lips pressing to Remus’ cheek and then his neck.

“Patton,” he started, his heartbeat speeding up, and he wondered if the other could hear it because soft blue eyes met his green ones. “I love you.” Patton blinked, absorbing the knowledge, and then his arms were around Remus’ neck, their lips pressing together joyously.

“I love you too, Remus.”

Remus smiled into the kiss. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Patton was there, he was with him, and everything was good. And if things came up, they’d work through them together. They were a team, and they always would be. He kept repeating those words between kisses, the weight from his mouth lifted, and he wished he could have said those words to Patton weeks ago, because it felt so right to say them.

---

teaser for part nine: and the dark one is soft for the sunshine one

Roman wanted to object, but he knew that Virgil would just remind him of their nights practicing for the auditions, their super early mornings running lines, the way Roman was always there to watch Virgil’s scenes. Virgil was there too, always supporting, always smiling, even when his anxiety got the best of him, even when it was hard to focus.

part nine will be (hopefully) posted on Sunday, September 6 at 12PM PDT

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part nine | part ten

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@cemmy

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monbebe26-monstax · 5 years

Text

Furious

This is the first member in a new mini-series of Angry Sex pieces. Shownu will likely be next then Jooheon. I apologize for not getting to requests, but life is really hectic right now with the new house. I am hoping that come Sunday I am settled in the house and can begin writing like normal and answering requests. But yes, you read that write I am still not in the house, there is not any water or power yet, hopefully, tomorrow. Fingers crossed. But enjoy!

Warning: NSFW

Word Count: 2,826

Wonho leaned back against the hood of the car, his eyes running over the front entrance of your office building, waiting on you to emerge. He frowned as the rain seemed to pick up and he could tell the storm was moving in. He stood on his feet as soon as you emerge from the building. His eyes on you as he moved forward to greet you and place the umbrella over you both.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, still afraid he was mad at you for your fight earlier and then leaving for work before making up.

“Hi,” he says back before his free hand presses to the small of your back guiding you to his waiting car under the shelter of the black umbrella. He opens the door getting you in before going to his own side and discarding the wet umbrella into the floorboard. He glances at you as you both buckle and he presses the button letting the car roar to life.

“You didn’t have to pick me up,” you say gently. “I could have taken a cab or a bus.”

He licks his bottom lip as he pulls onto the road. “No, I want you safe. And I didn’t like how we left things.”

You get quiet, catching the edge in his voice. He glances over at you before his hand slips over your thigh, squeezing it.

“Are you still angry?” You ask softly.

“Furious,” he states.

You bite your bottom lip looking out the window as you pass over the bridge and the rain comes harder. He sighed slowing down and pressing another button to turn the flashers on.

“You should stop,” you whisper quietly. “It’s only getting worse.” He glanced over to see you burying yourself in the seat as your hands moved to wrap tight around his wrist and the handle of the door, afraid of going off the bridge.

“Let’s get off the bridge first.”

You nod, closing your eyes and letting him get you off and down into a parking spot inside a pull-off area. No one else was stopping. You exhaled releasing your grip on his wrist. He studies you over after parking the car and turning the engine off.

“Want to finish talking about it?” You ask, opening your eyes.

He shakes his head. “No.”

You exhale before slowly starting to remove his grip from your leg.

“Don’t.”

You freeze, loosening your grip on his hand.

“You left me feeling like I was the worst boyfriend and I was angry that you could just leave so casually.”

“I had work,” you mutter, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

He sighs, turning his head to look at you resting his temple on the side of his headrest. “I know.”

You chew your lip, glancing to see the rain only getting harder to where you couldn’t see out of the windshield. He slowly drags his fingertips over the inside of your thigh.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he says quietly and you know what he wants more. You knew from the moment you stepped out of your work building tonight that it was going to lead to this. You glance at him before looking away, the hunger blooming in his eyes too much for you. You try to speak but nothing comes out before you bite your bottom lip harshly.

He sighs before unbuckling and leaning over. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth before he is using his free hand to brush your hair back exposing your neck. His lips trail down and you sigh softly, tipping your head away from him, letting him have his way. His other hand slips over your lap, turning you to him more.

“We are in a car,” you remind him gently. He smirks against your skin before nipping at it gently.

“Get in the back.”

You study him over, thinking he is joking, but he’s serious. He jerked his chin towards the back as he unbuckled you.

“Go.”

And you do, you slip past him into the back seat glancing to see him following after locking the car doors. His eyes are dark and swirling with lust making you shiver as he puts himself over you. His lips brushing yours before he leans back a little to stare at you. You don’t move and you don’t speak because you know what he is going to do.

He leans back in catching your lips in a kiss, a heart-stopping kiss as his hands grip your thighs to spread your legs letting him settle between them. His hands slowly edge up your thighs as his tongue darts across your bottom lip tasting your chapstick. He groans before ending the kiss to look down and watch his hands as they slide under your dress, pushing it up higher.

“Hoseok,” you murmur.

“Shh,” he says quickly. His eyes darting up to yours for a brief moment before going back to your lap as he guides the dress higher. You slip forward, touching his shoulders as he eases it up over your hips to fully remove it. He tosses it over his shoulder to the front before he pushes you to sit back against the expensive leather so he can see you, his baby girl all dressed up in red lace in the back of his luxury car. He drugs the tip of his thumb over his button lip shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have worn such expensive lingerie Baby.”

You close your eyes as his other hand trails over your stomach and down to the lacy edge of your thong. His fingertips caressing the skin there teasingly before pushes his fingers roughly through the material creating a hole in the lace. Your eyes flash open to meet his and you see the smirk in those depths as he pulls harder, tearing it to pieces in one effortless pull. His eyes immediately moving to be between your legs. He smirks.

“Already aching for me I see.”

You nod, biting your lip before he shuffles closer and bending down to press a hot open-mouthed kiss to the upper part of your inner thigh. His tongue flicking across the soft skin making you gasp out loud. Your hand immediately going to the back of his head. He chuckles before reaching out and pulling your hand from his head to put it back down on the seat.

“No touching yet Baby.”

You groan which makes him grin in satisfaction before he bends down again pressing more open-mouthed kisses to your thighs. You sigh in content, parting your legs for him more as he moves closer until he sits up, studying you. You bite your bottom lip staring back at him.

“You want me, don’t you?” He asks. You nod, aching to reach out and touch him, to undress him like he had you. He shakes his head. “This is your punishment for leaving me today.”

Your eyes widen knowing how severe it could get if you did what he said not to do. He reaches forward, tugging your bra strap down before he slips to the back unfastening the clasp before tossing it to be with your dress and torn thong. He sits back now, admiring you before he winks at you. You blush, starting to close yourself off the longer he stares, but he moves at the last minute. His lips on yours before he guides you to lay down on his back seat. His body moving over yours before he takes your hands guiding you to touch him. His hands slide yours underneath his shirt to touch his abs. You inhale shakily once his lips leave yours to trail down your neck, sucking and biting at the skin.

“Take it off,” he directs pulling back to stare at you. You blush before quickly removing his shirt and tossing it to the front. He unbuckles his pants but your lips find his, as your hands replace his.

Wonho groaned low as he slipped into you. His body pressing yours down into the expensive leather as he took your hard. You moaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he gripped your body hard, thrusting into you until a cry of pleasure left you from the force of his actions.

He grunted, lifting up to stare at you as he kept going. Your body moving underneath him, taking him so beautifully. You could feel his frustration and how angry he was with you as he pounded into you. His hands gripped so tight to the point that even he knew you would bruise, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted you to feel what he felt as he grunted above you snapping his hips into yours.

“Wonho!” You cried out, digging your nails down his back as you orgasm around him. He grunts loudly filling you with his own release before he pushes into your one last time then collapsing. His lips press to your shoulder as he curls around you, begging you to let him hold you. You do, your chest rising and falling rapidly under him as you both come down from your highs. “I’m sorry,” you whisper kissing his jaw. He mumbles something but he doesn’t lift his lips from your skin so you miss it.

Eventually, the rain lightens up and he slips from you. His fingers dragging soothingly over the reddened marks coloring your body. His eyes flick up to yours but you just shrug. He smiles before leaning back down to kiss you. You kiss him back before laying back against the seat admiring his naked body over yours.

“We should go home,” he says quietly.

You sigh before nodding once. He slips past you leaning into the front and pulling your dress to you. You study him as he grasps his clothing.

“My underwear Hoseok,” you giggle.

He leans down, brushing his lips along your cheek before whispering in your ear. “Your panties are ruined Babygirl. And your bra is all the way up there.”

You blush before pulling his lips to yours in a soft kiss. He gently gets you dressed being very careful of the marks his grip had left. His lips brushing the less intimate ones knowing he didn’t need to start another round before you were home.

…

Once you both are home he leads you to the bathroom and begins to fill it before he tugs your dress off and helps you in. His hands were careful on your bruising skin now. You study him over. “I’ll be back,” he murmurs kissing your lips once before going. You study him, slightly surprised at how soft he was being now. You relaxed in the tub closing your eyes.

You were jostled awake as he climbed in behind you.

“Are you tired?” He asks quietly. You nod before laying back against his chest as he grabs the body sponge and washes. He is delicate in his movements, cleaning you and him, and kissing you where he can as you hum relaxing back against him. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“I love you,” you respond.

He smiles against your shoulder. “I know. Just like I know you are it for me, Baby. I don’t ever want to fight like that again, okay?”

You nod before turning just enough to snuggle into his chest and press your forehead to his chin. His large arms wrap around you, cradling you for a while. The moments tick by and the water becomes lukewarm before he sighs.

“The food should be arriving soon, let’s get you dressed, hmm?”

You smile at him as he gently guides you both to stand and out of the tub. He smiles that cute smile you always swoon for as he wraps a towel around you before he leads you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. You sit on the bed, huddling into the fluffy towel as he moves around, gathering clothing for you both. His eyes constantly flickering over to you. You smile at him each time until he is kneeling at your feet. You study him over as he casually rolls thigh high socks onto your legs, his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration making you smile.

Once the socks are secured he rises, clutching the towel around his waist tightly to keep it on before securing it.

“Arms up Babygirl.”

You do as you are told and he pulls his hoodie down before taking your towel and tossing it away from you as the hoodie falls into place. You tip your head at him, biting your lip at how cute and sexy he could be as he gently wipes the hairs falling from your bun back from your face so he can admire you.

You both flinch as the doorbell rings before giggling together.

“Finish getting dressed, I’ll get the food,” he says quickly before grabbing his shorts and heading out of the room. Your eyes trail over the room, you didn’t want to put anything else on. You smile wickedly, you weren’t done with him yet either as you stood following the trail left behind with his towel to see him setting the food on the counter. His eyes flicker up to you and he grins.

“What did you order?” You ask quietly.

“Fried chicken,” he hums, licking his finger from the juice before helping you up onto the counter. You study him, grinning, your favorite food. He slips between your legs and feeds you small bites while eating as well.

“Are you babying me because of the bruises Hoseok?” You ask.

He nods, pouting a little.

“I don’t mind them, they will fade,” you reply cupping his face and pulling his lips to yours. He kisses you back before discarding all thoughts of food and wiping his hands before they touch your thighs. His fingers trail up until he touches your bare hip. He pulls back, his eyebrow lifting as he looks down.

“Where are your panties?”

You shrug. “You ripped the last pair so I figured I could save money by not wearing any.”

He laughs before cupping your face and kissing you again. It gets heated as you slid forward, pressing yourself against him making him groan low in his chest. You slip back with a smirk before gently pushing him to the side and getting down.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his hand wrapping around your wrist. You pull free with a gentle tug.

“A movie, I just want to be lazy.” You say before turning. You smile at being able to tease him so easily.

“Oh no you don’t,” he mutters, following behind you until he grips your body pushing you up against the cold glass. His lips on the back of your neck as his hands dip down to the front of your thighs sliding up the hoodie. “Don’t walk away from me like that Baby. We talked about this already remember,” he says in that deep husky voice you love so much before he grasps the hoodie in one hand as he exposes your lower half to the city view. You were too high up for it to matter but you still got chills as he pressed you against the glass. He's already growing erection pushing into you from behind.

A small gasp leaves your lips as your hips touch the glass. “Hoseok,” you moan, pressing back against him.

“Mhmm.”

You tip your head back onto his shoulder before encouraging his hands to go higher until he is tugging the hoodie off of you leaving you in nothing but the socks. His gaze runs over your naked reflection in the window.

“Fuck Babygirl,” he breathes. You smirk before spinning and leaning back against the glass. His hands immediately touch your curves making you shiver as he steps closer until you are pinned between the press of his hot body and the cold glass behind you. “Should I take you so all of Seoul can see?” He asks. “Would that make you happy?”

You nod, your hands trailing from his broad shoulders down to the hem of his gym shorts before you are pushing them down, revealing his erection. You lick your lips but he doesn’t let you drop to your knees like you want. His hands grip yours instead pinning them above you against the window. One hand wraps both of your wrists while the other moves down to hike your leg up over his hip letting him get just where he needs. He slips in making you gasp, still a little tender from the abuse earlier in the backseat of his car.

“Just like that,” you moan as he starts to thrust slowly. His hips rolling into yours, his eyes glued to yours as he takes you so slow and deep. You shiver, pressing to his warmth, needing him to never give you up.

#Monsta X #monsta x smut #wonho #shin hoseok #lee hoseok

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teacherinthestreets · 4 years

Text

“Appears to Be a Woman”

I set my alarm for 7am. My husband and I had the brooms out and ready. We figured, if we could wake up early on a Sunday to clean up Center City, we should do the same for Kensington. Plus, we’re homeowners in Fishtown and it feels like the neighborly thing to do. We walked under the El, sweeping up glass into piles, and at 9am I popped a headphone in my ear and joined my high school’s Monday morning meeting on Zoom. Since COVID closed down our schools, we’ve been meeting virtually. My colleagues shared their thoughts and feelings as we reflected on recent events. We’re all devastated by how especially scared and traumatized our Black and Brown students and their families must be. The general tone is of bewilderment. One colleague commented on the fact that her husband is a retired police officer and her family members are cops. She expressed her confusion and confoundment- police are trained to handle protesters so why are they doing this?

We headed back home so I could join my students for virtual office hours. As a special education teacher who’s worked in Philadelphia for ten years, I’ve never struggled this much to entertain my students. By nature, I’m silly and a goofball. I tell jokes, don silly cat shirts, and wear a giant purple squid hat when the mood strikes. This is hard to convey online so I’ve resorted to playing lots of games on Kahoot! I always play with them and I always lose, but let’s pretend I lose on purpose.

After the strange school day is done, my husband, friend and I head out on foot to the protest. There is a group of unions gathering together to discuss our role in advocating for change to support People of Color for the betterment of all. I’m wearing my Working Educators shirt, which is bright red and useful in case my friends and I get separated in the crowd. I could barely hear the speakers, but clapped heartily anyway. I saw a former student in the crowd and awkwardly air-hugged him. Then we began our march. Chanting loudly, sometimes in unison, and walking through the streets I love. I was flanked by two colleagues from school as well as my friends and husband. I felt that although this was something small, that’s how most revolutions succeed. Old, archaic systems are pulled asunder through death by a thousand cuts. My cut today was holding aloft my cute and colorful sign of the “This is Fine” dog.

When our group crossed the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, we came to a halt. The police had blocked the bridge we intended to go over. We saw the group flood down the hill and onto 676. My husband and I held hands as we continued the march. What’s a little traffic to get the attention of hundreds for a worthy cause? We saw people in their cars lean out and shout, everything I heard was supportive, but then again I am trained to listen for the good and filter out the bad as there would be no way else to survive teaching high school students otherwise. As we walked under the overpass, I saw a wave of people running towards me. I froze. My husband grabbed me and helped me onto a ledge on the side of the road. When we could move again I saw a line of officers, clad in black. They were at the other end of the bridge so I couldn’t see anymore than that. Suddenly, a girl drops to her knees. She’s crying and bleeding, but I can’t tell from where. A fellow protestor reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water to help clean the wound. I turned and saw another fellow protester on the ground, holding his face. He looked unable to stand. I was scared so I started to leave him. There were people around, someone else would help him. I heard someone next to him yell, he’s been hit by rubber bullets and tear gas! Up to this point I didn’t realize we were being shot at. I paused, perplexed. I saw my husband see the man’s distress and move toward the prostrate figure. He picked up cardboard and used it to shield the man. In spite of my trepidation, I knew I had to help as my backpack was full of water and a first aid kit. I crouched down to assist, but we were all soon on our feet as we felt more rubber bullets fly passed us and the smell of tear gas was getting stronger. I felt nips at my ankles. Is that what a rubber bullet feels like? Unfortunately, I would soon find out.

The tear gas began flooding the street. My husband held my hand and we ran. With police surrounding us, we were forced up a hill and into a tall ten foot metal fence. As I stepped up to leave. Whap! I screamed out and fell to the ground. Something hit me in my back and the sting knocked the wind out of me. A fellow protestor to my right grabbed my arm to help me up. At this point, I see my husband and I have broken apart, but I can’t get back to him. I think I’m screaming or crying, maybe both. I breathe in the gas and think, this is how I die. I survived traveling the Middle East alone for a year and I die on the side of 676. I am bent over vomiting when an officer pushes me down to zip tie my hands behind my back. When I realize what is happening I ask him if I can get my ID from my bag which has fallen off when I was blindly and desperately searching for a bottle of water to douse my eyes with. He tells me, you don’t get shit. I ask him if it’s my right to have an ID on me (because I honestly don’t know). He responds angrily, saying I can’t get it. I take a step toward my bag and he pushes me down again and yells something. I’m shaking, begging him, please, please, please, I just want my ID. What if they arrest me and claim they don’t know who I am so I’m kept longer? Please, I beg again, I just want my ID. He tells me to stand up. I try to maneuver my way to standing while on a slant with my hands tied behind my back. The tear gas has got me spun around and sick. I can’t see and the pain in my back is incessant. I am almost up when I feel him push me back down. He then dragged me down the hill backward, over the branches and brambles. I wobbly stand once at the bottom of the hill and get in position. I am relieved even though there is vomit on my chin and snot is streaming down my face. The girl next to me asks if I’m ok and says she wishes she could help me wipe my nose. Some air is coming into my lungs. I start to feel like I might not die, only to realize that I am being arrested.

My mom, dad, friends, family- they all told me to be safe. Be safe? I have never thrown a rock, or broken a window in my life. I’ve never shoved anyone, except when jokingly imitating Elaine from Seinfeld. Why should they be worried about my safety? I was there to support, but I don’t make messes. I help clean them up, that’s what I do. Now, I realize that was my privilege telling me I was safe. My cousin is a cop. I may be against the system, but individuals can see me for who I am: not a threat. That was my privilege. It told me the police would see I was peaceful and I would be fine. As I recall the screams and sobs now, I realize how very wrong I was.

After I was bent over the median, my situation sunk in. I followed orders. Thanked every officer. Yes sir, thank you, sir. I was pat-down, but with no pockets and no bra, I was an easy search. We were moved to the middle of the road and sat on the median. The girl next to me asks me to look at her hand. She wants to know what color it is. It’s turning purple, I tell her. She tries to ask an officer for help. I ask a little louder. We are laughed at and she’s told that they’ll see her in the ICU. I look at the line of those zip-tied and try to see if my husband is there. When I don’t see him I search the crowd above, but my glasses are covered in chemicals. (It turns out he was up at the top of the hill screaming for me he was forced away by police.)

When we are loaded into the white school buses, I feel like I’m in a strange alternate universe. At this point in the school year, we would be taking field trips in a bus similar to this, but not as clean and devoid of bars. The girl behind me is texting on her cell phone backwards. She asks if she can text anyone for me. Oh my god, I’ve been with my husband for seven years and I never memorized his number. I give her my parents numbers and hope they will see the text during their Zoom birthday conference for my aunt. I am relieved when she tells me they responded. Phew. At least someone knows where I am.

We sit on the bus, packed with women, ages ranging from early twenties to thirties. There are a few women crying, but everyone is encouraging each other. Someone asks if anyone has been arrested before. The girl next to me replies, does drunk and disorderly in college count? Everyone else shakes their heads no.

When we reach the station they tell us we are going in five at a time to be processed. The girl who texted my parents for me asks for those who need medical support to let it be known so they can go first. I’m in awe that even in this stressful situation, she has the foresight to be so kind and compassionate towards everyone.

As I am brought in to be processed, I remember my former student in the crowd. I wish I could see if he is ok. I continue to comply in my normal friendly and gracious manner. A young Black woman in my group of five asks why they need her address again. She’s got some flint in her voice, but she doesn’t curse and is respectful. The officers attempting to process her begin a back and forth at one point accusing her of probably never having a job in her whole life. When she asks why they would think that of her and asks whether it is because she is Black, several officers erupt into laughter and mockingly decry the stupidity of her comment. Her friend stands up in her defense and one of the officers tells her to sit her ass down or she can stay the night. He says they could use the company. He yells at her (and us) stating that this is what we get for breaking windows and causing a riot. They protest and are waved away and told to hush-up or they’ll be locked-up.

The officer processing me is polite, when he asks my profession and I tell him I’m a teacher he perks up and asks where I teach. When I tell him he’s genuinely excited as our school is unique and has been a Philly landmark since the 50’s. I’m given my Code Violation Notice for “Failure to Disperse” (I laugh and think that they should give that to the fence for blocking my way, but also wondering if stopping us from dispersing was the point because trapping us on that hill sure felt like it). A polaroid photo of me is taken and a young officer writes my name on the bottom. They point me to the exit. I smile and thank everyone. Like they did me a favor. Like they didn’t have a hand in what I just experienced.

I see the girl who texted my parents outside. She’s passing out water and waiting for her ride. She graciously lends me her phone and I call my mom. I tell her I’m ok, ask her to call my husband and give her my cross streets. I ask her to tell him that I’m just going to start walking home on Montgomery Ave.

I hear my husband’s emblematic “yeerrrp!” and turn around. He’s with two of my other friends who had been trying to retrieve my backpack. I don’t care they weren’t successful, their smiling faces let me know how lucky and loved I am. I think about how this was a strange experience for me, one that I will hopefully never experience again. One that I don’t have to live in fear with experiencing again. Again, I notice my privilege in a new and deeper way. It reminds me why I went to the streets in the first place, why I have chosen Philadelphia as my home. Why I continue to teach in the city that I love and fight for a better future for each of my students.

When I arrive home to Fishtown, we are told that the 26th precinct has a gathering of White men and women with bats, shovels, and axes. After hearing the gathering using racial slurs, cursing, smoking pot, drinking, and yelling about their guns- other Fishtown residents ask the police to disperse the gathering, to which the police’s response was dismissive and cursory.

When home, I read the statement from Mayor Kenney and Police Commissioner Danielle Outlaw on what I went through, which was beyond disheartening. I voted for Kenney and I was excited to see a badass Black Commissioner woman take charge (I mean, with the last name Outlaw, I thought she’s got to be great). She stated in her press release, “While on the roadway, the crowd surrounded a State Trooper, who was alone and seated in his vehicle, and began rocking the vehicle, with the trooper having no safe means of egress. Two teams from the Philadelphia Police SWAT Unit arrived. While the SWAT officers were present, members of the crowd began throwing rocks at the officers from the north and south sides, and from the bridges above the officers. The crowd also began rushing toward the officers. The SWAT officers gave numerous orders for the crowd to disperse, to which the crowd did not comply.”

I am too devastated to even respond. Throwing rocks? Rocking a police vehicle? Refusing to disperse? How could these blatant lies be shared so easily? Every detail is false to every second of my experience, but if people in power say it, won’t everyone believe it?

The dichotomy of this day hurts in a profound way. As my adrenaline fades and I hear the encouraging words from my family and friends, I feel like I will be ok. My husband pulls up a video from the news of what happened to us on 676. I watch the situation unfold from above and can pick myself out in some shots because of my bright red shirt. Then I see it. I’m being dragged down the hill and the camera zooms in. The reporters notice and comment at my sorry state and I can’t help, but laugh when one says “[she] appears to be a woman.”

#nojustnopeace #nogoodcopsinaracistsystem #fightthepower #power to the people

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infinitefandomimagines · 5 years

Text

Sacrifices - Peter Parker X Stark!Reader

WARNINGS: MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERS, LIKE GIANT SPOILERS, DEATH, CRYING, MILF PANIC ATTACK?? Request: Hi (Endgame request!) Could you do a peter x reader where she is tony’s daughter and an avenger? like super angsty of her dealing with what happens to tony? + imagine where the reader is starks daughter but also an avenger and is dating peter. maybe something about when tony dies and the reader is right there and so is peter? and peter being there for her? You didn’t even remember waking up. There was no jolt, no fog clearing from your head, no slow regaining of consciousness. One second you didn’t even exist, and the next you were just… there. Confusion flooded your mind as your brain tried to process what was happening, or anything for that matter. You couldn’t even remember what happened before– Oh…

Memories began flooding in; New York. Ditching the bus along with Peter upon seeing a floating ring in the sky. Your dad yelling at you for being reckless. Titan. Thanos. The fight. The fear you felt when Thanos stabbed your father. The eerie silence that washed over everyone when the plan failed. Everyone suddenly turning to dust. You could vividly remember the uneasy feeling in your stomach, your body suddenly feeling as light as air. The feeling of panic when you realized what was happening, and that you couldn’t stop it. You remembered the tears streaming down Peter’s face as he begged you not to leave, his voice broken and faltering, his pained expression burned itself into your mind. But the worst part? The worst part was the horrified look on your dad’s face, you were almost positive it’d haunt your dreams from this point forward. His last words to you echoed in your skull and sent chills through your body, “You’re alright sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” But you weren’t okay. You took in your surroundings, realizing you were in fact, still on Titan. Your body froze when you made eye contact with a man who stood only a couple feet in front of you. You recognized him; what was his name again? Quell? Quinn? Quill. He seemed to share your same shocked state as he looked around at you, his friends, Dr. Strange, and … Peter?

But if Peter was here that meant he must have– you didn’t even want to think about it. His eyes were glassy and brimmed with tears as he stared at you in disbelief, trying to debate whether your were real or not. Whether he was even real. He walked towards you slowly, as if you would disappear the second he got too close. “Y-Y/N?” He finally spoke, his voice just barely above a whisper. However, that was all it took for you to close the distance between the two of you. You practically flung yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck, tucking your head under his chin and burying your face in his chest. One of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, holding you tightly as he held the back of your head with his other hand, tangling his fingers in your hair. You finally let the tears you’d been holding back flow freely, letting out stifled sobs as Peter held you; being back in his arms felt euphoric. You craned your neck up to look at Peter, his hands moved to rest against your cheeks, holding your face. He stared down at you with tear filled eyes, “I’m sorry,” his voice broke, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I tried, I-” You stopped him, “It wasn’t your fault, Pete,” you said firmly, “Don’t think for one second that it was.” Peter didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded and did the only thing he could think of. His lips crashed into yours, and you instantly melted into him. In that moment, you completely forgot about everyone else there, it was just you and Peter. “I hate to break up the love-fest, but does anyone wanna explain what the hell is happening,” Quill spoke up. It was a sweet moment, but watching you and Peter reunite only reminded him of how he’d never see Gamora again, and it hurt, he’d never admit that though. Peter and you broke apart and settled for simply holding hands. Everyone gathered around each other, looking for some sort of explanation. “They did it,” Dr. Strange whispered, mostly to himself. “What do you mean? Who did what?” Quill pressed further, a touch if annoyance in his voice. Strange let out a sigh of frustration, “I don’t have time to explain, but it’s been five years since Thanos won, and your dad,” Strange pointed at you, “and his friends brought everyone Thanos killed back, but now they need our help.” “How do you know all of this?” Peter asked, his mind spinning, he was having trouble wrapping his head around everything Strange just said. “Like I said, I’ve seen everyone possible outcome-” “And there’s only one where we win,” you finished, remembering what he’d said before everything went sideways. Strange nodded, “I’ll be back,�� he said, “They’re gonna need more than just us.” Strange then opened a portal and stepped through it, leaving no time for anyone to ask more questions, and he was back almost as soon as he was gone, instructing everyone to get ready. You pressed the button on your bracelet, allowing the nano-tech to encase your body in the suit your dad gave you for your birthday. Peter already had his mask on, and the guardians were holstering their weapons. “Strange, you said you saw every possible outcome, which one are we in?” You questioned. “I cant tell you that.” He said simply, before conjuring up a portal to what looked like the apocalypse, and before you knew it, you were fighting. Everything was happening so fast, you’d lost track of Peter a while ago, that was until you saw him with your dad. You smiled at the sight of them hugging, but it quickly faded when you saw one of Thanos’ soldiers creeping up to them, unnoticed. You quickly raised your hand, your blaster at the ready, and fired. The blast startled Peter and your dad prompting them to jump apart, ready to fight whoever just shot at them. “I seriously don’t know how you survived so long without me,” you joked, your mask retreating back into your suit, revealing your face. “Y/N,” your dad whispered in disbelief, his face in an utter state of shock. It was you, not a dream, not just some hologram, it was really you. His feet slowly carried him over to you, the same dumbfounded expression still displayed across his face. “I- I just…” He struggled for words. He was standing right in front of you now, the two of you only about a foot apart. His eyes examined your face, taking in every detail he’d missed seeing everyday so dearly. Your mouth curved into a smile, he’d definitely missed that the most. “Hey dad,” you said in a small whisper, tears brimming your eyes. He was pulling you into his arms in a second, “… I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he breathed out. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” you comforted, letting your tears fall. “There’s so much I need to tell you-” “And you will,” you interrupted him, pulling away from the hug, “But right now we have a war to win.” Your dad smirked, “Always one to get down to business.” You shrugged, copying his smirk, “I Iearned from the best.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m so proud of you,” he said, letting his smirk melt into a soft smile. “Not as much as I am of you,” you responded, trying not to let your voice crack. “You two watch after each other,” he said, raising his brows and pointing to you and Peter. “Always sir,” Peter replied. The fight seemed to last forever. You were absolutely exhausted, and could feel your body giving in to fatigue. You felt the warm trickled of blood running down the side of your face from the laceration on your temple. The blood from your busted lip had long since dried, and you could feel bruises forming in different locations on your body, namely the one just below your rib-cage on your left side. Your suit was without a doubt damaged, and would be needing some serious repairs. The metal was scratched up to Hell, and a few systems were malfunctioning. Three of Thanos’ soldiers had you surrounded, and under normal circumstances you would have been able to handle it, but for some reason your blasters wouldn’t fire up. “Andy why aren’t my blasters working?” You asked your suit in a panicked voice. “You’ve taken too much damage miss Stark, I’m afraid your blasters are offline, would you like me to contact Mr. Parker or your father for you?” The AI responded. Before you could answer, something floating in the air grabbed your attention. Dust. No. No no no, this can’t be happening again. Your heart rate picked up and you felt light headed. This can’t happen again, you just got back, Thanos can’t win again. You looked up, hoping to find Peter, your dad, Rhodey, Strange, anyone. But what you saw instead shocked you, the three soldiers who had you cornered were no longer there. Instead, dust slowly settled to the ground where they once stood. Your eyes scanned over the battle field as Thanos’ army started turning to dust, man by man and ship my ship. But you? You were fine, and by the looks of it, so was everyone else who fought by the Avengers side. Thanos lost. And the Avengers won. You snapped yourself out of the initial shock, your mind instantly going to Peter and you dad, you had to find them. “Andy, are thrusters still online?” “I can transfer all remaining power to them if you’d like, miss?” “Yeah. Yeah, do that,” you instructed. It took a couple seconds, but once Andy informed you they were back online you took off, your eyes scanning the ground for any sign of Peter or your dad. It didn’t take long for you to catch sight of Peter’s red and blue suit, he was kneeling, and his shoulders shaking. Rhodey hovered over him, swaying slightly; they were both looking at someone, but you couldn’t quiet see who. You landed right behind them, your suit dissolving as it formed back into just a bracelet, leaving you in your clothes which closely resembled athletic wear. “Rhodey! Peter!” You called out, jogging up to them. Peter’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice as he stood. Rhodey turned to face you, tears streamed down his face. They tried to block you from seeing what was behind them, but they failed. “Have you seen my-” It was your horrific scream that alerted the other avengers something was wrong. Steve’s heart dropped into his stomach, Thor’s victorious smile fell, Bruce felt a chill run down his spine, and Clint’s head shot up. Pepper started looking around for you, the way you screamed out for your dad scaring her. Rhodey caught you in his arms as you stumbled towards your father, attempting to hold you back. Peter stood and watched, fresh tears pricking his eyes at the sound of your broken voice. “Let me go!” You yelled at him, struggling against his grip, “Let me go! We can help him! Rhodey please!” “I’m so sorry, kid,” Rhodey’s voice cracked as he tried to comfort you. You somehow managed to break free of his grip, forcibly pushing him off of you and instantly collapsing to your knees in front of your dad. The right half of his body was blacked from burns, his face just barely spared, partially singed black. You almost missed the infinity stones placed according in the armor om his right hand, giving you all the explanation you needed. “No… Why? Why would you do that?” You whispered, but you knew the answer. He did it to save his family, to save the universe. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. He just stared at you with glazed over eyes, wheezing as he tried to take in as much air as possible, he was trying as hard as he could to stay alive long enough to say goodbye to his family, even if he couldn’t find the strength speak. “Dad… Dad please. You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay… You can’t leave me, not now, not like this,” you were trying to keep it together, but the cracks in your voice surely gave you away. It felt like your heart was being torn apart, bit by bit, making it nearly impossible to be pieced back together. You were starting to lose your composure, not that you had much of one to begin with. Tears streamed down your face as you tried your best to choke back sobs, each one stabbing Peter, Rhodey, and now Pepper, who had appeared without you noticing, straight through the heart. Steve and Thor watched as well, watching their friend’s daughter deteriorate in front of them, a girl they had learned to love as a daughter as well. “I love you, please don’t leave me,” you whispered, grabbing hold of his left hand, holding it with both of yours. “Dad, please…” It could’ve just been your imagination, but you swore you felt him squeeze your hand ever so slightly, it was weak, but you caught it. It was his way of saying he loves you too, and that was your breaking point. Your chest tightened and your heart physically hurt as it raced faster and faster. More tears stung your eyes, and your breathing grew shallow and quick. The realization that this wasn’t fixable hitting you harder than a freight train. There was nothing you could do, and it wasn’t a feeling that was very familiar, because before now, there had always been a way, your dad always made it out alive. But not this time. It wad all so overwhelming, you couldn’t do this. How are you supposed to live on without him? You felt a hand on your shoulder, one composed of cool metal. “Y/N…” Peter’s voice was hoarse, and about as broken as yours. Losing his mentor hurt, and seeing you like this only made it worse, but he was determined to be strong for you, to give you a shoulder to cry on, a stone to lean on when you weren’t strong enough to stand on your own. “Baby, come on,” he whispered, both of his hands now on your shoulders, gently tugging you towards him. You shrugged his hands off, you couldn’t leave your dad. “Y/N, it’s okay, you have to let go,” he tried again, pulling you with a little more strength. “No, no I can’t leave him,” you cried, resisting. Rhodey stepped forward to help, but Peter stopped him, knowing it was probably best to do this himself. He hated having to pull you away, he couldn’t stand the fact that he would only add to your pain by doing so, but he knew he had to. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, before wrapping his arms around your waist, restricting your movement, and pulling you away with all the strength he could muster. His arms pressed against your bruise causing a sharp pain to erupt just below your ribs, but that was the least of your concerns. You struggled against him as he pulled you from your dad, screaming at him, begging for him to let you go, but no matter how much it hurt him, he didn’t let go. You tried to hold on to your dad’s hand, but as Peter pulled you away, it slipped out of your grasp and dropped limply into his lap. “Let go! Peter let go of me! Peter please!” You yelled at him, thrashing and struggling I’m his arms, but his grip never loosened. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating. Peter was finally able to drag you far enough away to allow Pepper to take the spot next to your dad and say her goodbyes. He spun you around in his arms so that you faced him, and held you in a tight bear hug. You were still trying to free yourself from his grasp, but your efforts were growing weaker. Your hands pressed against his chest, the iron-spider suit feeling cold under your palms as you tried to push him away. “Peter please…” you choked out, but your voice was weak and small. Peter shook his head, “You’re okay, I’ve got you, I’m not gonna let go.” You finally stop struggling, your body was too weak, and the fatigue mixed with the stress of the situation hit you full force. Your legs gave out, and had Peter not been holding you, you would’ve collapsed onto the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support, and he pulled you into him, tucking your head under his chin as you buried your face into his chest. One arm stayed wrapped around your waist while his other hand drew comforting circles into your back as you cried. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head before glancing back at Tony, who was watching the whole ordeal. Peter sent Tony a small nod, as if saying ’don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.’ Tony wanted to say thank you, but there was no strength left for him to do so. He turned his attention back to Pepper, who also glanced back at you and Peter. She quickly returned her attention back to her husband who was living on borrowed time, and forced herself to give him a sad smile. “We’re gonna be okay,” Pepper whispered to him, “You can rest now.” Peter held you tighter as he watched the light on Tony’s chest flicker out. He kept his arms securely around you, scared you would turn around and see the scene behind you, see that the light had left your dad’s chest and his eyes. A/N: Part 2?? Perhaps?

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myheroaizawashota · 5 years

Note

Hhhhhh can you do an Aizawa x reader where the students react to Aizawas daughter showing up to say hi to dad at the provisional lisence exam? Kinda like how Ms. Joke did? Please ur content makes me cry ;w;

[I actually really liked this prompt, it’s very different than anything I’ve done before so I hope it stands up to your standards (￣ε￣〃)ｂ @rhodochrosite-love ps sorry if i disappointed you with my lack of talent]

It was too god damn early for this shit. The grumpy teacher of the esteemed U.A class 1-A staggered off the bus, eyes practically closing as rubbed at the corner of his eyes. He was incredibly exhausted. Though he’d never admit it, his nerves had him up longer than he’d of liked last night dropping his grand sleep total to one whole hour. He groaned watching as his students all piled off the bus, they buzzing about with excitement and nerves of there own. Today they’d be testing for their provisional licenses , it was a big deal. If they’d managed to pass they’d be one step closer to being pro hero’s. With all the villain attacks happening around, the need and urge for all the students to pass was important. Aizawa had a lot of faith in his students....he knew each member of class 1-A had the potential to pass this test. He was confident in them, they were not only a strong talented group, they had the smarts to-

“EVERYBODY LISTEN TO ME, I KNOW YOU’RE EXCITED BUT WE MUST ACT AS YOUNG PROFESSIONALS AND HOLD ONLY THE HIGHEST OF STANDARDS FOR U.A STUDENTS” Iida barker he towering above his class mates, shouting and waving to grab their attention.

“Calm down man, we just got here. Give us at least five minutes to stretch our legs out before you go all crazy on us” Kirishima sighed stretching his right arm over his chest.

“I’m so nervous what if I don’t pass the test? Then what am I gonna do...IILL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET ANY GIRLS IF I FAIL!!!” Mineta cried all but frantic as he shouted over Iida.

Squabble. Squable. Squable. Aizawa took in a long inhale he holding it for a moment before releasing, this was going to be a long day. Stepping forward he raised a hand quickly gaining the classes attention without having to make much efforts “that’s enough. Your all wasting time.” He hummed slumming his shoulders with a yawn. “This test isn’t to be taken lightly, many of the students here have had years of practice with their quirks, I don’t have to remind you of the disadvantage you’re at here. Stand here and wait for me to get back” With that he let out a yawn and wandered off in the direction of the registry booth, hands crammed with in his pockets.

His students fell silent as they absorbed their teachers words. He was right...there were students from all over around here and each one of them was starving for these licenses, training day in and day out to get them. The silence wasn’t well lived though, once their teacher had been out of sight for long enough, the quietly began to chatter amongst each other once more.

Some students were more rowdy than others, Mineta grabbing at Kaminari’s arm shaking him rabidly as his mouth began to salivate as his eyes fell on you. “Whoa....Kaminari look at that fine piece of lady coming our way” He drooled practically foaming at the mouth as he leaned in forward.

You felt the eyes of some of the students on you, and you couldn’t help but give a laugh. First years were always so cute, though these guys were different from all your fathers previous classes. You approached the group of them smiling, a thermos settled in your hands “wow....you guys must be 1-A from U.A! I’ve heard so much about you all” Your eyes darted around the group of students, looking around for their teacher, your index finger scratch at your temple “do you guys happen to know where your teacher got off too?”

A tall individual stepped forward, his hand tilted at the side of his brow as he addressed you stick stiffly up his rear as he spoke, “Mr. Aizawa went to file the registry forms! He told us to wait right here!”

You give a soft laugh, based on the stories your father tells you about his students you can only assume this is the class representative “Do you know when he’ll be back? I wanted to drop this off to him before I have to go sign in for the exam myself.” You gently shook the thermos of coffee your mother specifically packed for your father that he’d forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“N-not to be rude....but why are you so concerned with Mr. Aizawa?” A smaller boy with the cutest freckles you’d ever seen and a mess of green hair asked.

“Well...he left it on the counter this morning and he was up late last night....so i wanted to make sure he had it” you said with a nervous laugh “trust me, your gonna want him to have this coffee before you deal with him.”

The students all looked more puzzled, each of them forming thoughts and idea, some of the slower ones only coming up with the same question of who the hell were you. You slowly began to back up, body jumping and nearly dropping the thermos as a hand grasped at your shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be with your own class Y/N.”

You could see the tired look in his eyes, you giving him a soft little smile as you threw your gaze over your shoulder. “I know I know....but I promised momma I’d give you this when I got the chance”

His eyes cast down in relief as he took the thermos from your hands, his palms pressing against your head ruffling your hair with a hum. The students of 1-A stood gawking in shock at the scene in front of them. “AIZAWA SENSI?! IS THIS YOUR DAUGHTER?!” Mina asked all but squealing, the rest of 1-As eyes trying to connect the same dots Mina had.

It was hard to tell Shouta Aizawa was your father, you looked and acted nothing like him, in honesty to your fathers luck you turned out everything like your mother. You had all the best qualities of her, the ones he’d fallen in love with. With a sigh Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose “I hope your happy Y/N...now I’m gonna have to deal with all their questions on the way home.” He huffed though you could tell he wasn’t actual mad.

You gave a soft smile, head turning as your teacher called out for you. With the same soft eyes that always won that mans heart over, you looked up at him and grinned “wish me luck out there dad, I promise I’ll make you proud!” You wound your arms around his waist tucking your head to his chest, your fathers face began to turn red. “Love you”

With blush creeping across the bridge of his nose Aizawa did his best to maintain a straight face, his hand releasing you “I know you will. And...i love you too kitten.” He paused for a moment before wriggling himself out of your hold, he unscrewing the lid of his thermos to take a sip of coffee. Lord knows there’s not enough caffeine in this container to deal with the massive energy burst that was about to strike this class.

You ran off and waving, excitement bubbling up in your chest as the corners of your mouth began to numb your cheeks as they lifted into a final smile. “If i get my license, your taking me on patrol tonight with you!” You laughed watching the shock unfold within all the faces of class 1-A. You couldn’t help but snicker at the sudden up roar you’d just created, the class of students erupting in overly enthusiastic questions.

“Mr. Aizawa you have a daughter!?!”

“Mr. Aizawa does that mean you have a wife?!?”

“Is her quirk just like yours?!”

“Is her quirk like her moms?!”

“What’s your wife’s quirk!?”

Aizawa gave a sigh, rubbing at his temple. What a great way to start the day....though he was at least happy he did get to see you before the competition began. It was safe to say once the exams began, class 1-A was terrified but excited to see what you’d be coming at them with.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x daughter #aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #bnha requests #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #class 1 a #my hero academia #iida tenya #midoriya izuku

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: The Elephant in the Room ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Jeff has started working at the Embassy. He’s got a new job, a new car, and a new place to live. Now if only the rest of his life could fall into order, that’d be great. Any time now…any time at all…

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Suicidal Thoughts, Mental Health Issues, Friendship

Notes: Stretch quitting smoking? Going swell. Jeff quitting the bookstore? Super duper. Red is a creeper? Well, everyone knows that! Except Jeff, it seems, but hey, he can be taught!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

There wasn’t much parking downtown at that time of day, the best spots taken by day workers and college students. Jeff was forced to park on the street a couple blocks from the bookstore. It wasn’t much further than they would have gone from the bus stop and Stretch didn’t offer any complaint.

He did hop out of the car the moment it was in park, before Jeff even had a chance to turn it off. Jeff only shrugged mentally and gathered up his keys and bag. At least he didn’t shortcut out, the sound of it could be painfully loud in an enclosed space.

When he got out, he saw that Stretch hadn’t run ahead. Instead, he was lingering on the sidewalk with a vape pen in hand, already exhaling a cloud of vapor. From his scrunched expression, it wasn’t as satisfying as a cigarette.

“Not so good, huh?” Jeff asked with amused sympathy.

Stretch grimaced. “it’s not the same. you’d think i’d like the tasty flavors and you’d be wrong. i wasn’t smoking ciggies because i so enjoy the tanginess of chemicals and tar.” He grinned then and nudged Jeff with a sharp elbow. “but it’s better for the baby, am i right?“

Jeff groaned, but he snickered helplessly, ”I said I was sorry.”

“oh, you did,” Stretch agreed. He started down the sidewalk and Jeff fell into step beside him, “but i’ve still got a little mileage left on that joke before i run it into the ground.”

From the way he was determinedly using the little vape, Jeff got the idea that the whole quitting thing might not be going so well. He didn’t put it away until they got to the store, tucking into his hoodie pocket as he held the door open for Jeff. The bell jangled above the door as they walked in and an unfamiliar face looked up at them from behind the counter. “Good after…noon.”

The faint hiccough in his speech was barely noticeable, as was the way his smile faltered. Stretch certainly didn’t seem to notice on his beeline directly to the recently acquired shelf.

“Hi,” Jeff said, just this side of too loud. The guy jerked and turned back to him. “Is Thomas in?”

Before he could gather himself enough for a reply, a full head of salt and pepper hair poked out from the office, followed by the rest of his former boss. “Jeffery, my boy! And Stretch, schön dich zu sehen! What brings you, you have a new order to place?”

“nah, i’m just here with the troublemaker today,” Stretch grinned and jerked his head in Jeff’s direction. “don’t worry, though, i’m working on a new list. you’ll be sherlock holmsing around for me in no time.”

“Ah, but I also have a new detective!” He stepped around the counter and gave the young man a firm clap on the shoulder. “This is Steven, it is his second day.”

“Hi, again,” Steven said obediently. It sounded friendly enough but Jeff didn’t miss the way he kept glancing away from Stretch, who nodded a greeting before going back to perusing the shelves.

Thomas didn’t notice, only came back around and transferred that firm grip to Jeff, leading him away like a lost sheep. “Come now, Jeffery, we can go over the last orders you were working on in my office.”

“Sure,“ Jeff murmured. But he left the door open and stood in a way he could watch the main room.

Every glance out made him worry a little more. Not about Stretch, he was only poking through the books, setting a few off to the side in a neat pile. He never even glanced at Steven, much less bothered him. But the guy was watching him like a mall security guard, not even pretending to be doing anything else.

There was something about that look, the visible discomfort in it, that had Jeff frowning mentally. Monsters had been aboveground for several years now, long enough that anyone who lived in Ebott should’ve bumped into one at least every few days around town. Considering how young this guy was, he should’ve been on campus a few times or in the local coffee shops. No one should be that freaked about seeing a Monster, no one with manners, anyway.

Especially seeing Stretch, who was easily one of the most recognizable, only below Asgore and the diplomat group when it came to fame. Plus, the skeleton Monsters tended to look more Human than some of the other species out there. They wore clothes and shoes, and when Stretch had his hood up, he could easily be mistaken for human from behind.

Besides, his sweatshirt had a dinosaur with Mickey Mouse ears on it and a speech bubble that said ‘wrong park’, for crying out loud. How was that remotely threatening?

Next to him, Thomas was two finger typing his way through the list of orders that Jeff had been working on, humming beneath his breath. “Thomas,” Jeff said, low. “Yes, my boy?” When Jeff nodded towards the front counter, Thomas stood and leaned over the desk to see. He frowned, his eyes narrowing, as they both watched Stretch walk over to another shelf of books. Steven moved as he did, unsubtly shifting over to the far side of the counter, his eyes never leaving Stretch as he backed away. “Bah,” Thomas muttered irritably. “That one, he’s not going to be staying.”

Jeff nodded. Definitely for the best. Even if someone unfairly thought Stretch was scary, he was hardly the only Monster who came in hankering for books. Moms brought in their kids all the time, elderly Monsters searched for books they remembered from the Underground. The cheery sticker on the front door inviting Monsters in would tell anybody that much, before they took a single step inside much less submitted a resume. Why the hell would someone who was so visibly uncomfortable around Monsters want to work someplace that was blatantly Monster-friendly?

Jeff didn’t really care for any of the reasons his brain was offering him and suddenly, he didn’t really want to leave Stretch out there alone with a guy who was eying him the same way he would a serial killer. “Would you mind if I came back this weekend to go over this?” Jeff asked softly.

“Not at all. Come, let’s go out together. I think maybe I should ring up Stretch’s purchases for him.” Thomas sighed and shook his head. “Such a shame, he had a good resume. A worse shame I will have to pay him for today.”

“Send him home at lunch,” Jeff said sourly, “save some money.”

“A very good idea.”

~~*~~

They were walking back to the car, both of them with bags in hand when Stretch finally asked him, “okay, what’s the matter?”

“Why do you think anything is the matter?” Jeff asked lightly. It wasn’t going to work, he knew that, and Stretch only tutted in exaggerated disappointment.

“because your smile fell so far its sitting on top of your shoes. so before you trip over it, what’s wrong?”

“That guy, the new guy. He seemed…” Jeff hesitated, trying to think of a way to phrase it that was better than, ‘he was a dick,’. “He seemed really Monster unfriendly.” “yeah. i noticed.” Stretch pulled out his vape and used it, exhaling a sweet-smelling cloud. It was a decent distraction but Jeff knew him too well now to miss the fleeting unhappiness that crossed his face before it was hidden beneath easy carelessness. “he didn’t say anything to me, but—“ “No, because he was too busy trying to blend into the furniture,” Jeff gritted out. He should’ve known Stretch noticed, he was weirdly observant like that. Maybe Monsters had to be when their HP was in the single digits. And to have to deal with that in one of his safe places had to be doubly upsetting. “Thomas already said he was getting rid of him, but seriously, what an asshole. He was acting like you were gonna rip his throat out with your teeth.” Stretch made a face, “nasty. i love the old monster movies but man, the creature from the black lagoon sure didn’t do us any publicity favors.” “Good movie, though.”

“yeah.” The faint melancholy that had settled over Stretch faded as he suddenly smirked. “wanna go watch it?”

“Hell, yes.”

The trip back home was a lot shorter when they didn’t have to depend on the bus, and soon enough they were settled on the sofa with snacks. But even the campy black and white classic couldn’t hold his attention, and Jeff found his thoughts picking irritably at the events of the day.

That Steven applied at Classic Books at all was rubbing him in all kinds of wrong ways. There was literally no chance anyone would miss that it was a Monster-friendly business, and even if Thomas was going to fire that prick, well…maybe he should let someone in Security know. Like Red, Jeff had a feeling this was definitely something he’d want to know about. Edge probably would too, but he and Stretch had enough to worry about lately.

Better to have it checked out first before starting any panics or holy wars or anything.

So after the movie, Jeff regretfully turned down an offer to head over to Grillby’s and instead drove down to the Embassy.

Instead of politely greeting the security guard and heading right to the elevator like he usually did, Jeff stopped and asked, “If I needed to talk to Red, where would I find him?”

The guard’s floppy ears perked high as he looked up from his sudoku book, eying Jeff warily. “You actually want to see Red?”

“Um. Yes?” Well, he had before that.

“Huh.” The guard looked at him a moment longer, doubtfully, then shook his head and picked up his pen again. “Just wander around. You don’t really find Red so much as he finds you.”

Well, that wasn’t at all ominous or terrifying. “Thank you.”

Even worse, it wasn’t really helpful. It was close to five and most of the staff was getting ready to go home for the day. The cafeteria was closed, the chairs already atop the tables, and none the departments seemed likely. It wasn’t like there were any signs pointing towards ‘creepy skeletons this way’ like a damn Target store.

Jeff was ready to surrender and almost convinced himself that he was overreacting. And yet, if he didn’t say anything and someone got hurt? Yeah, better to overreact and feel stupid, times a thousand.

An email, then? That’d be something, and Jeff made his way down to the PR sector where his office was. It was about a step above a closet, but he didn’t care, it was his, and he should be able to check the email listings from there.

The main office was already deserted, the lights dimmed. Jeff walked on to his door, trying not to feel like an intruder as he unlocked it and switched on the light. Only to nearly scream at the sight of Red sitting casually in his chair, his boots propped up on the desktop.

That grin of his was so similar to Edge’s and yet not at all, and neither was the way he ran his tongue over the jagged points. His eye lights glowing with crimson ferocity that gave lie to his tone as he said easily, “wellie, well, well, if it isn’t handy andy. heard you were looking for me. what can i do for you, sweets?”

Yeah…he was starting to think the guard had the right idea. Seemed like no sane person went looking for Red. Except now Jeff had him and so he got to deal with him.

Jeff wet his own lips nervously, wondering how the hell he was going to coax this genie back into the bottle. Somehow, he didn’t think flattery was the right option.

~~*~~

TBC

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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cassiopeiassky · 5 years

Text

Travelling Soldier (I Cried)

So once upon a time I wrote this songfic called Travelling Soldier, based on the Dixie Chicks’ song, because it was quite literally blocking my brain from continuing WEMtbB. It was, I think, the second, maybe third fic I ever wrote way back in 2016. Just to get it out of my brain and free up bandwidth, I wrote in one night and posted it, and I’ve pretty much hated it ever since. I took it down, but it still pops up in my notifications from time to time and I cringe every. damn. time.

So I redid it! Was it blocking me again? Why yes. Yes it was, and I’m infinitely happier with this version. I filled it out, gave it more depth (I hope) and did some research. It still isn’t 100% historically accurate, but the song wasn’t either and so I had to kinda make peace with the inaccuracies.

Bucky x reader

Word count: 5353

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war, Vietnam war, character death.

Sunday, March 12, 1967

It was a normal Sunday morning at the café; the first morning rush is done, and now there should be a lull until the after-church crowd hits at half past eleven. After straightening the ribbon serving as a headband and making sure the bow is on top, you deftly collect your tip and wipe down the last table so you can refill the salt shakers. If you’re lucky, you should be able to get an hour or so of studying done before it picks up again. Tim, the café’s owner and cook, is more than happy to let you study while it’s slow as long as you’re prepared for the busy times. Junior year of high school is no joke, especially when you’re taking Honors level classes.

Closing your American History textbook at exactly 10:45, you look through the big plate glass window to see a young man waiting at the bus stop across the street. He’s in his army greens; he strikes a handsome figure, but he looks a little unsure. It’s no wonder, you think to yourself, this war is awful and feels like it’s been going on forever. There have been so many soldiers leaving but not nearly enough coming home.

You thank God every night for the fact that you don’t have any brothers. Your daddy served in WWII; you’ve heard the stories. He’d wanted a son, but now he’s just as grateful as you that he never got one.

You try to distract yourself from your thoughts by humming a tune as you pack up your books. After returning your backpack to the back room you straighten your bow once again – the silly thing keeps sliding down – and check to see that your apron is on straight before heading back out to the dining area.

Someone has taken a seat in the window booth of your section; the one that you were seated at just a few minutes ago. “Hi, welcome! May I take your order?” You don’t notice until you’re standing next to the table that it’s the young man you’d seen waiting across the street.

Seated now in front of you is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, with striking blue-grey eyes, brunette hair, and a sweetly shy smile that you can’t help but think would be devastating under better circumstances.

“Hello, miss,” his voice is quiet but even as he removes his hat and places it neatly on the table. “Just a coffee, please.”

“Sure thing, I’ll have it right out.” You nod as you head over to the beverage station and return shortly with a cup, a carafe of freshly brewed coffee, sugar, and cream. You bite your lip, trying to find a reason to stay in the presence of the boy with the enchanting smile for just a few seconds longer. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” He doesn’t seem a while lot older than you, but he’s old enough to be a soldier so you treat him with the respect you feel he deserves.

“Oh no, miss, you don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he shakes his head slightly and looks down as a blush dusts his cheeks; if you hadn’t already been entranced you would be now. “My name is James, but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Well, then you don’t have to call me ‘miss.’” You give him your name as his shy smile transforms into a brilliant grin. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“That’s a real pretty name,” he murmurs before taking a deep breath. “I know it’s not in your job description, but would you mind sitting down for a while and talking to me? I’m feeling a little low,” he confesses. “I’m early – my bus won’t be here for a few more hours – and, well, I guess I’d rather spend my time talking to someone like you than thinking about where I’m headed.”

How could you say no? There’s just something about him.

“I’m off in an hour and I know where we can go,” you reply brightly, almost not believing that someone as handsome as him would take an interest in a bookish person like yourself.

But Bucky nods, flashing you a lopsided grin, “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”

The minutes drag by, and you find yourself looking over at his table without even meaning to. He’s caught you a few times, and you’ve caught him stealing glances as well; eventually the two of you are gazing at each other like idiots from across the room.

“Honey, ain’t you a little young for him?” Tim leans across the counter as he grins at you. He’s a kind man in his late 60s, with a shock of unruly white hair and a deeply lined face etched from decades of joy and sadness. He and his wife, Esmeralda, hadn’t been able to have kids so they tend to more or less adopt the people that come to work for them; he’s practically a grandfather to you.

“Oh, leave her alone, Tim,” Esmeralda pats your cheek with a grandmotherly affection, “That boy looks like he must have lied on his enlistment form, cause he sure doesn’t look like he’s even graduated high school yet.” She turns to you and whispers with a wink, “He’s cute, and he’s clearly taken a liking to you. Make sure you find out where he’s headed so you can send him some letters.”

Caught somewhere between mortified and encouraged, you just nod.

Esmeralda laughs as she shakes her head, “Just head on out, honey. You’ve only got 10 minutes left anyway so I’ll finish up your last table.”

Well, she certainly doesn’t have to tell you twice. “Thanks Esmeralda!” You give her a quick squeeze and speed walk into the back room.

“Deep breath, deep breath,” you mutter while absolutely not following your own advice. What are you doing? You are technically allowed to date but is a soldier really the best idea? This war has taken so much and there’s no end in sight – and good heavens your daddy would be so upset – but there’s something about him that won’t let you go. “Oh, for crying out loud, he asked for some company, not your hand in marriage. Get a grip on yourself.” This time you more or less listen to your instructions, but you figure it still doesn’t hurt to look your best so you redo your ribbon, secure the bow on top, and remove your apron before swiping on a bit of lip balm. It feels like it took forever, but you can finally retrace the steps back to his table.

He’s already standing as he watches as you approach, his smile getting wider the closer you get.

“Are you ready, Bucky?”

“I sure am.” He holds out his arm for you to take – internally you’re screaming about what a handsome gentleman he is, but outwardly you’re mostly calmly as you link yours with his. It feels right.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you are sitting at the edge of the pier with your feet dangling above the water.

“What school do you go to?” Bucky squints into the sunlight as he lets his head fall back.

Trying not to be obvious, you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He seems a bit more comfortable now, and God, the lights in the café hadn’t done him justice. He’s beautiful. “I’m a Junior at Southside.”

He laughs unexpectedly. “Ah, so you’re a Tiger!”

“You know our mascot?”

He grins mischievously, “Only cause I was an Eagle.”

“You went to Baxton Hall?” The crosstown rivalries between the two schools is well known in your area – it makes for some really charged football games and some really bizarre pranks.

“Sure did.”

Taking a deep, dramatic breath as you clutch at your pretend pearls, you giggle, “Oh no, I hope no one sees me fraternizing with the enemy!”

He plays along with sparkling eyes, “Well if I had known you were there, I would have willingly defected.”

You duck your head as the heat rises to your face as you wish fervently for words to come. Why can’t you flirt? Why are you so bad at this?

Bucky seems to sense your sudden shyness because he slightly changes the direction of the conversation as he leans toward you. “You’re real easy to talk to.” He looks down and studies his hands in his lap. “It only would have been for a couple of years, but it would have been nice.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that overrules your bashfulness. “Didn’t you have a lot of friends at Baxton?” He definitely would have been one of the most popular boys at your school.

“Not really, no. Just a few. Most of the people in my class didn’t want to sit with the kid that was orphaned at 8 years old – they never knew what to say.” Your heart clenches at his words but he perks up, “But I did have Stevie. He and his ma took me in; they became my family. But then Stevie got sick a couple years ago and didn’t survive the winter, and Sarah didn’t survive losing him. She passed last summer. She said I made her proud, though. Said I was the first in her family to graduate high school, and she was even prouder that I did it a year early.”

“You graduated at seventeen?”

“Mmm hmm.” He smiles and nods. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“It was my birthday 2 days ago.”

“Really? Well happy birthday!” It’s so unlike you but you spontaneously pull him into a quick hug, nearly spilling the both of you into the water below. “You should have said something at the café, I would have gotten you a piece of pie!”

He laughs, and you wonder how someone like him happened to walk into your life. Then reality sits on your bubble, and you remember why he was waiting at that bus stop. “I wish you weren’t leaving.” The words, so forward and honest, leave your lips but when you see the hopeful look on his face you can’t find it in yourself to regret them.

“I don’t want to go,” Bucky confesses. “It was never my dream or anything, it’s just something I gotta do. For Stevie. He wanted so badly to fight for his country.” He swallows hard at the memory. “So when I realized that he was never gonna get to live his dream, I promised him I’d do it for him. I sent in my enlistment forms as early as I could, and now that I’m eighteen I can start making good on that promise.”

“You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes.”

He shrugs bashfully. “I’m trying.”

“You are.” The truth of your statement rings in your bones. You might not be able to flirt to save your life, but you’re an excellent judge of character.

He grins at you and you beam right back at him, and even though you’re young and inexperienced, you’re pretty sure the overwhelming feeling you have right now is love.

“So what do you do for fun?”

The conversation turns lighter as you tell him of your passions. He learns that you play the piccolo in the marching band, that you volunteer at the local pet clinic, and that you hope to go to college after high school. You aren’t completely sure what you want to do yet, but you do know that you don’t want to be a housewife like your momma. She’s amazing and quite honestly your hero, but she sometimes talks about how she’d wanted to become a biologist. It was a different time, though, and she had felt that the world wouldn’t allow her to follow that dream as well as the dream of having and raising a family. She chose family, but she encourages you to not settle with having to choose.

“Your ma sounds amazing.” Bucky sends a wink your way that makes your tummy flip, “That must be where you get it from.”

Thirsty for more knowledge about him, you begin peppering him with questions and learn that he loves boxing, math, and astronomy, and that he hopes that the army will eventually allow him to work within their technology development divisions. His already bright eyes light up even more as he tells you about how badly he wants to go to the moon. “You know it’s gonna happen soon! They’re gonna do it, and I hope one day I’ll be able to do it, too.”

This makes you both look up into the sky, searching for a moon that isn’t visible.

“Few more days and we’d be able to see it.” His voice is quiet, almost reverent.

“See what?”

“Yesterday was the new moon. During the first and last quarter of the moon phase you can see the moon during the day cause it is has the right positioning and isn’t too close to the sun.”

“You are so smart.” It’s hard not to stare at him, especially with the blush that’s returned to his cheeks.

“Hey,” he begins, suddenly turning shy again. “I bet you got a boyfriend, but I don’t care. I’ve got no one to send a letter to – would you mind if I sent one back here to you?”

You can’t help but smile broadly. “Bucky, I don’t have a boyfriend – my parents said that I couldn’t date until I turned seventeen, and that just happened last month.” Flashing a self deprecating smile, you continue, “It’s not like I’ve got a line of suitors banging at my door. I’m kind of a nerd.”

“Well,” Bucky begins, “their loss. If I’d met you earlier, I would’ve asked you out the morning of your birthday. A sweet, pretty girl like you should have a boyfriend, one that treats her right. If you don’t mind waiting for me, I’d love the chance to be yours.”

“Well Bucky, I think I’d love that, too,” your voice sounds much calmer than you feel as he leans in to seal the deal with a gentle kiss; your first kiss.

It’s slow and fast all at once, and when he pulls away he’s wide eyed, almost like he can’t believe he just did that. “Was…was that okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nod, maybe a little more enthusiastic than strictly necessary, and you feel the ribbon in your hair start to slide out of place. It gives you an idea. “Here,” you pull the ribbon completely out and untie the bow. “Give me your hand.” He does as you ask, and you gently loop it around his right wrist before tying another bow. “There. Now you’ll have something to remind you of me.”

Bucky stares at you with an astonished smile. “As if I could ever forget you.”

* * *

You begin to miss him before he even gets on the bus that will take him to Fort Irwin in California, but you receive the first letter in just six days, dated the day he left.

March 12, 1967,

Hello Beautiful,

I’m not even three two hours away and I had to start writing to you. I can’t get you out of my mind, and I think that’s okay. I don’t want to be too forward here, but I really you felt like home, almost like I’ve known you for my entire life. I haven’t felt that in a long time. Like I said, you’re real easy to talk to and that’s a special trait. I hope you’re doing okay, and you’ll probably get this too late but good luck on your history test on Friday. I’ll write again soon.

Yours,

Bucky

March 19, 1967,

Dear Bucky,

I passed aced it! I was worried I wouldn’t, but I did! I have a science test coming up in a few days, but I’m not worried about it because it’s about the moon and the solar system. I’ve been spending a lot of my free time reading about the moon because it reminds me of you, so I’m probably definitely more prepared than I’ve ever been for a test. And I saw it just a few days ago during the day, just like you said I would! I’d say that it made me wish you were here, but I wish that anyway. I don’t know how you did it in such a short time, but you sure got under my skin, Bucky Barnes. I hope basic is going alright for you! I’ll write again in a few days.

Forever yours,

You bite your lip as you contemplate your reply to Bucky. Is it too much? Too honest? Maybe you should take the ‘Forever’ out? Maybe you shouldn’t be so cheeky, maybe you should actually sign your name? But then you reread his letter, and like it has the first 20 times you’ve read it, your heart skips a beat at the greeting.

Before you can second guess yourself any more than you already have, you fold the letter, stuff it in the envelope, and seal it. It goes out with the morning mail.

The letters come twice a week, at least. Bucky tells you about his training – he did just fine in basic, and now he’s excelling in his advanced individual training; it’s hard, but his love of boxing gave him a significant physical advantage over most of the other men he was training with. That makes you proud, but your favorite parts of his letters are when he opens up his heart to you. He tells you about Stevie, and about Sarah. Sometimes you laugh out loud, sometimes you cry for him. He tells you about his fears – things aren’t going well overseas, and one of his biggest worries is that he’ll let his unit down. Eight weeks in, he tells you about his mom and dad. He shares how he felt when they died, how hard it was to move forward, and how scary it was. But then his words gain a hopeful note when he repeats, once again, how he found another family in the Rogers’, and now in you.

Of course, he tells you about the moon. Every time he learns something new or hears something about the progress in getting to the moon, he writes it down and sends it to you. You can practically hear the enthusiasm in his voice when you read the words, and that’s why you read them over and over again, and also why you’ve started collecting newspaper clippings on the subject. You send a few in your letters to him, but you save most of them so you can put them in a photo album and give them to him when he returns.

You eagerly respond to every letter, usually on the day you receive them. The words you write tell him how proud you are of his accomplishments and how much you miss him. He won’t let his unit down – you know this deep down in your bones, and you tell him so. Every Sunday you walk across town to the cemetery holding Stevie’s and Sarah’s graves and spend an hour or so reading his letters to them. You were worried when you told him this that he would think you were silly or even crazy, but when you received his reply it was obvious that you had nothing to worry about.

June 18, 1967

Hello Beauti my beautiful girl,

I’m about to start my last two weeks of AIT, so this might be the last letter you receive from me until after I get overseas. Our superiors are getting more and more strict – they’re doing their best to prepare us. I’ll still think of you every day, even if I can’t write. You’re always on my mind, even when you’re not supposed to be.

Thank you for visiting Stevie and Sarah for me. When I read your last letter and you said you were doing that, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. You are the sweetest girl I ever met and I thank God every day that he gave me the idea to get coffee while I waited for the bus. Stevie’s birthday is on the 4th of July – if you could just tell him I said hi and happy birthday on your next visit, I’d really like that. Who am I kidding, of course you will. Beautiful, you’re practically an angel.

I ship out for Vietnam the first week of July. I’m a little worried scared honestly I’m terrified that I’m not coming back, but I want you to know that I’m gonna do everything I can to come home to you. When I left it was for Stevie, and besides, I thought I didn’t have anything to stay for anyway. But then I met you. We have a deal, Beautiful, and I plan to honor that deal. Besides, I need to get this ribbon back to you – I keep it in my pocket but I can’t wait to see it in your pretty hair again. Just keep waiting for me, okay? I promise I’ll get to you as soon as I can.

I love you.

I hope it’s okay that I wrote that, but it’s true so I’m not sorry.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Bucky

Your hands shake when you read, reread, and read the letter again.

“Honey? You planning on taking these plates to that table over there or are they gonna walk themselves?” Considering the amount of exasperation in his voice, Tim has obviously been trying to get your attention for a while.

“What? Oh! I’m sorry, I’ll bring them right over!” Pocketing the letter before picking up the two breakfast platters, the syrup selection, and the extra butter they had requested, you serve the table that has been so patiently waiting. After making sure they have everything they need, you practically run back to the kitchen. “Esmeralda, is it okay if I take my 15 now? I have a letter I’d like to write before the postman gets here.”

She flashes a knowing smile. “Better get writing, he’ll be here shortly.”

“Thank you!” you yell over your shoulder as you pick up your book bag and head out the back door. Taking a seat at the picnic table next to where the employees park, you whip out your notebook.

June 24, 1967

My dearest Bucky,

Of course it Bucky I love you, too! And I am so proud of you! There’s so much more I want to say, but I want this letter to get to you before you ship out so I’ll save it for my next letter when I have more time.

Bucky Barnes, you better believe I’m waiting for you. I’m never gonna hold the hand of another guy. I think You’re it for me.

Love,

***

Summer 1967

You still write a few times a week, but his letters start coming few and far between. It isn’t because he’s changed his mind about you – you know better than to allow your darkest doubts to even whisper that – it’s because he’s stationed at the front line. You’ve seen the news, and your heart jumps into your throat every time you hear of casualties from your state. There’s more than you’d like to acknowledge, and so you pray every night for his safety. He might be halfway across the world from you, but Bucky is never too far from your thoughts.

***

August 8, 1967

Hello my sweet, beautiful girl,

God, I miss you so much. Thank you for the cookies and the picture – the guys are so jealous, they say my girl sure is pretty and they can’t believe how well you bake. And THANK YOU for the newspaper clipping about the moon launch progress!! I’m telling you, it’s going to happen soon!

Beautiful, I want you to know that I think about you all the time. In fact, thoughts of you are what get me through this daily hell. When it’s getting kinda rough over here, I think of that day sitting down at the pier and I close my eyes, and see your pretty smile. And then, for a while, everything is better. And now I have your picture, so can I have you over my heart (in my pocket).

Don’t worry, but I won’t be able to write for awhile.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Bucky

***

September 1967

School is back in session, and you’re grateful for the distraction. You haven’t heard from Bucky in over a month and despite the assurances in his last letter, you’re worried. You read and reread his letters to you; you even bring them with you to school, tucking them into a pocket of your backpack so you can have them close.

Friday night is the Homecoming game, and you’re scheduled to play in the pep band during the football game; it’s a tradition that all Seniors play. You’re excited for it – it’s always so much fun and the team is really good this year. You dress in your school colors – an orange sweater with a black skirt and the orange knee socks that you’ve worn to every football game since you were a Freshman. It doesn’t match your outfit at all, but you tie your hair back in a ribbon that’s the same color as Bucky’s eyes, grab your piccolo, kiss your parents goodbye, and head out the door.

The energy in the stadium is electric – your team is playing your crosstown rival.

Bucky’s school.

It’s a bittersweet comfort; somehow it makes it feel like he’s here with you, but it also makes you miss him more. His absence is an ache deep in your bones.

For now, though, the game is about to start. The players are warmed up, the cheerleaders are ready, the Lord’s Prayer said and the Anthem sang, when the announcer unexpectedly breaks in. “Folks, would you bow your heads for a list of local Vietnam dead.”

Your heart in your throat, you have no choice but to listen.

“Zachary Martin Anderson.”

A few people in the band start whispering, and the boy in front of you hangs his head. You knew of Zach – he was a nice boy that graduated from your school last year.

“Jonathan Jeffery Andrews.”

Blinking back tears, you hear more murmurs. You knew Jon, too – he used to carry your momma’s groceries for her that time she broke her ankle.

“Daniel Ethan Ball.”

This isn’t a familiar name to you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s heavy on your heart anyway.

Feeling infinitely guilty, you begin whispering, “Please, please be done with the Bs…”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

No.

“What…what name did he just read?” No one answers you; the announcer isn’t done with the list yet.

It doesn’t matter. You know what you heard.

The blood rushes into your ears and it becomes hard to breath…there’s no air here…no air at all. A few minutes later the band begins playing and you don’t even recognize the song. What are you doing here? God, it hurts so bad it hurts and you can’t breathe. You throw down your piccolo with a strangled cry, hitting the boy next to you but you don’t care. You vaguely register hearing your band director yelling your name, but you ignore him - you probably couldn’t have coherently answered if you’d tried. Running out of the band section, you blindly push through the crowds of students without knowing where you’re going until you get there.

Finally alone under the stands, the sobs start coming hard and fast. The football game begins, and for the life of you, you can’t understand how they can play. How can they play a game when so many people died?

When Bucky died?

It occurs to you that this has happened so often that by now people have grown numb unless it’s one of their own.

Now one of yours.

He was supposed to be yours forever. He’d promised. You had a deal.

But he’s gone.

Gone.

You’ll never get to hold his hand.

You’ll never get to do anything the two of you had planned, had dreamed.

It breaks you, grinds you into the dirt you’ve crumbled down upon. Your screams blend in with the cheers. Your sobs blend in with the chants. Your heartbroken wails blend in with the music as the band plays.

When you cry into the quiet, a shiver runs up your spine. The temperature has dropped and it’s a little damp. Your feet are cold, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, not really. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that the game is over, and probably has been for a while; the stands are deserted. With your heart shattered into millions of sharp, tiny pieces, you finally pick yourself up off the ground and head home.

The kitchen light is on. You’re past curfew.

You can’t make yourself care.

When you step into the kitchen there’s no chastising, no lecturing about responsibility. Instead, your momma rises from the table to wrap you in her fluffy, pink robed arms as your daddy watches you with wet cheeks.

Wet cheeks? On your daddy? You’ve never seen him cry before.

This realization has a lot less impact than it should.

“Baby? Your, uh, the boy you told us about? Your soldier?” Her voice is calm and soothing, but you hear her concern in it. Over her shoulder you can see the Western Union slip clutched in your daddy’s hand.

“He, um –“

“I know, Momma.” The tears start anew, although you’d have sworn there weren’t any left. A second set of arms comes around you – your daddy. It’s like they’re trying to hold you together and although you appreciate their care – you do – it just isn’t enough.

The truth of the matter is that you’ll never be whole again.

Your momma, upon seeing how happy you were, how much you’d glow when you received a letter from Bucky, had been supportive of your choice. Your daddy, the decorated WWII veteran, was another story. This exact situation is the reason why. There are tears in his voice when he finally speaks, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted you to know what this feels like.”

They eventually lead you to sit at the kitchen table, and while your momma goes to make you a cup of tea, your daddy kneels in front of you and takes your hands into his.

“He must have really loved you, baby. You’re listed as his next of kin.”

The tears start again, harder this time.

He waits until the worst is over before continuing, “The telegram came a couple of hours ago. We went to the game to try to find you, but no one knew where you were. Your band director said you ran off during the announcement. Since we couldn’t find you, we just came home to wait.” His eyes get watery; your daddy’s proud, strong eyes have tears in them. “I hope it’s okay, I made some calls to get more details so you wouldn’t have to wait for the formal condolence letter. James, uh,” your daddy stops to rub his eyes, “James was a hell of a soldier. He died saving the life of the soldier he was patrolling with.”

A minuscule smile finds its way to your lips. “That sounds like something Bucky would do.”

Your daddy nods. “I should have known you’d pick a good one.” He swallows hard. “James’ – I mean Bucky’s unit was able to recover his body. They’ll send him back so he can be laid to rest here.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Your sore, swollen eyes turn to the slip of paper on the table. You don’t need to read it to know what it says, but you do anyway. Skimming past the “regret to inform you” and the “deepest sympathies,” you get to the line that matters.

“The soldier’s coming home.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #my work #travelling soldier (i cried)#i'm actually super relieved to get this out #i wish i could bleach the other version out of existance

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zazebde · 4 years

Text

Labcoat

“It was at the street corner that I saw him for the first time. A young boy, expressionless, ghostlike crystal pale eyes. I thought he was dead, day after day he’d be at the exact same place on my morning commute. No one ever made a fuss about him and I found it so entirely odd that he just sat there endlessly everyday. He looked about sixteen, wearing a labcoat much larger than he could ever grow into. His hair mangled in a bun held together by a bit of string and he kept that dirt a third grader might consider a moustache untame and unkempt for far longer than since I started to see him at the street corner.

Everyday when I’d head to work at my lab, he’d be there. On my way back, as I made my way to a nearby corner store to pick up some cup noodles for a midnight bite. He would always be there. I broke the cycle of observation one day when I decided I wanted to be part of the story; so, I walked up to the kid and asked him.

“Hello?” he stared blankly.

“Do you have a name?” I asked. No reply. I waved my hand in front of his eyes hoping for his pupils to at least follow my hand around. It’s as though the kid was dead. So I did what any born scientist would do and poked the kid. What was he going to do really, bite me? I had to find out what was up with him. I left my half empty cup noodles at his side and walked home.

The next morning I went out to the corner by the bus stop, and not to my surprise he was still there. In the same spot as he always is. I dared stand closer to him than I normally do, come to think of it- I went to the bus stop early that day. I’m still not sure why I did. When I looked closer however, the cup of noodles was full. Well, not full as in it had- I don’t know how to explain it well, but it was more than full. To the brim, it was almost running through the top of the cup with how much it was full. Even yet, the kid stared blankly at nothing, never moving out of position. I swear it sounds crazy but you have to understand that is what I saw, I can’t stress that enough. It’s not as though it rained last night and the cup was full of rainwater, you know? The cup was full of ramen too!

I decided to ignore it that day, it made no sense to me. So I went to work at my lab as I always do. Of course work ends eventually and you have to snap back to reality right? I went home that day, I don’t think I saw the kid at the bus stop when I arrived there though, my memory’s a bit faded. He was probably there though, staring off with his goat eyes as he always does.

Yet again that night I felt hungry and went out for another cup ramen at the corner. I saw the kid sitting there as I walked into the store, and I saw him again when I stepped out. My hand gripped harder around the warm styrofoam cup. I almost felt as though there were eyes on me. Was the kid sitting differently today? I never really would’ve noticed if he ever moved subtly and now I’m worried about his eyes. Have I ever seen him blink? Questions like those were setting in at a degree faster than I had prepared myself for. I walked up to him again.

“Hey kid, are you alright?” I said that because quite honestly I had no idea what else there was to say, maybe that was what I wanted to hear myself, “are you forced to be out here like some kind of joke?” I even sat next to him. He paid no mind at all, it felt like heaven. Suddenly sitting at that corner at one in the morning that day, I felt peace of mind. Like nothing mattered other than staring off into whatever that kid was looking at. I tried following his pale eyes setting their focus at the bus stop, never looking away for not even a second. Perhaps he sat there always waiting for someone to get off the bus, maybe his father? Or even an older brother? I tried testing my hypothesis, and no. The kid does not blink, I personally found it horrifying. I left whatever was left of my cup noodles there and went home to get some rest.

On my way home I wondered about his lab coat, it was awfully dirty. Wished I could’ve gotten it cleaned out for him sometime, but never did. Two-thirty AM that morning I fell asleep. I have dreams often but this one stuck out. It was about a kid putting on a pair of self-made moccasins for the first time. Like trying a new skin it felt heartwarming but chilling. Not knowing exactly where the leather for those moccasins came from I tried not to let it get to me. There was a feeling of deja vu, I guess. Dreams don’t mean anything, that’s what I tell myself. It would be foolish to think otherwise.

I went to the bus stop that morning and, as expected: the kid was still there. At this point, this matter goes above work and I have plenty of sick days to spend away. I went up to the kid and noticed the cup at his side. Yet again full to the brim and I dared not question it.

“That’s a nice labcoat you have there, would be a shame to keep it in that condition right?” I’m not sure what I expected, but I didn’t get a response. I asked him for the coat, promising him I’d clean it and bring it back to him. At this point I didn’t understand why I was still talking to someone so obviously not going to respond. Maybe it was just out of formality, for the sake of conversation. The kid didn’t try to stop me when I took the labcoat off him and walked away with it.

“I’ll go clean this for ya, alright? You stay here, unless you want to come along.” No response. Again, not sure what more I expected.

Skipping work that day I went to my apartment complex and went downstairs to the laundry room. It cost me two quarters but I tossed the labcoat in the washer and waited a good forty minutes before taking it and happily tossing it into the dryer. I was happy that day. It felt good to do something nice for someone else and I guess it just made me appreciate life more. Maybe I’ll even start drinking less, I know that’s been a bad habit of mine for so long. Finally the blank stare of my life was coming to an end I thought to myself, things were looking better and this clean labcoat is a marker of that. I’m glad.

Once the coat was done drying I made my way back to the street corner where I saw the kid for the first time. Reality hit me all too soon when I noticed he wasn’t there. In fact, no one was there, no one was allowed there. Cautionary warnings all over the place, I felt lost. Was that blood on the concrete? Where’s the kid, and why were the police all there? I had no explanation, I ran in crying and begging them to let me know what happened. I didn’t even know the kid, it didn’t make sense, why was there such a big scene!”

The cop stared at me, I was in a room with him now and that was my testimonial. There was a recording of me at the bus stop on repeat. It was an innocent kid just going to the corner for some cup noodles and suddenly it made sense to me. I started tearing up, knowing what was next. It was a clip of a man sucking off a fifth and slurring his way through the streets. He was yelling and cussing at a child that never existed or rather one that lived in his memories, there was never a kid at the street corner, until the day came by where there happened to be a kid there. A chance mistake that should’ve never been noteworthy. Details aren’t necessary of what happened to the kid, but the man took off his bloody labcoat after and walked away calmly to his apartment. When he came back there was nothing more to say, all that was left was a cup full of noodles and the spotless labcoat of drunken regret.

#creepy #story #writer #read #my writing

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