#It's taken me months to gather the emotional energy to put myself through it again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence.

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something.

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place.

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more.

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy.

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain.

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over.

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at.

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why.

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck.

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste.

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness.

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault.

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize.

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals.

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things.

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting.

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person.

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe.

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water.

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands.

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats.

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program.

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating.

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack.

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you.

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked.

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything.

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home.

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days.

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice.

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs.

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts.

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly.

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight.

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat.

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment.

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode.

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.”

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself.

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting.

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble.

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.”

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed.

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to.

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home.

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate.

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year.

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters.

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask.

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping.

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat.

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches.

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors.

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates.

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score.

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended.

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him.

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah.

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head.

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel.

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up.

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom.

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair.

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump.

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip.

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps.

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey.

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you.

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake.

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye.

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep.

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel.

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you.

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before.

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice.

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves.

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates.

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet.

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone.

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd.

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals.

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features.

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda.

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point.

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase.

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him.

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months.

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received.

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper.

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about.

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list.

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship.

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them.

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights.

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop.

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.”

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience.

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door.

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles.

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years.

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut.

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?”

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall.

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?”

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is.

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete.

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly.

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction.

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well.

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much.

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal.

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror.

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger.

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates.

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch.

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city.

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile.

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift.

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible.

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable.

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities.

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off.

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals.

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine.

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep.

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front.

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly.

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay.

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse.

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you.

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself.

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot.

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down.

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help.

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there.

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater.

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain.

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength.

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again.

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink.

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#this right here is my baby #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

388 notes · View notes

jaeminscoffee · 4 years

Text

Crash and Burn

Pairing- Liu YangYang x reader

Genre- Angst, fluff, suggestive.

Warning- swear words, could get a little suggestive [ nothing too crazy coz i’m still a baby but it’s something better than nothing.], fwb to lovers. It's pretty cliché lmao kill me

Summary - The place Yangyang happened to crash at after each failed tinder date was yours. Comfort to discomfort to arguments to fights, you've been through all that with him by your side. This deal was meant to be a friendship breaker. It burned the whole friendship label the two of you had. But built an entirely different label.

"Stay, I'll run a bath for you" Yangyang said, getting up, panting a bit as he picks up the boxer that was discarded onto the floor a while ago. You didn't have the energy to refuse or put a say in it so you merely nodded.

He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead and makes his way towards your bathroom.

It had been like this ever since that frat party where the two of you, influenced by the adrenaline rush because of all the drinks you had consumed, couldn't keep your hands off of each other, when he suggested the whole friends with benefit deal.

You were taken aback, but the high sex drive you'd felt ever since your first break up, and the fact that he is an absolute eye candy made you want nothing more than just him to manhandle you.

It went well for the first 5 months or so. He'd date whoever he wanted, you'd hang out with anyone you wanted, and then you'd fuck by the end of the day. That was the whole deal.

No strings attached.

Oh that, you'd failed to keep up with that rule. Again really doesn't help that he's an incredibly handsome lad, was kind and loving, and the incubus in sheets.

It all felt weird because it was so obvious that he did NOT reciprocate the feelings because he'd treat the others of your kind the same as you.

But as days passed, you'd craved more than just his touch. You wanted all his attention to yourself. But that wasn't going to happen and it was obvious.

"Can you walk?" he asked making his way to you with a smug look. "yeah i can" you say, wrapping the sheets around you as you grip the edge of the bed, him standing beside you with his arms crossed over his bare chest, smirk displayed on his face.

It only grew wider as he saw you wobble and wince in pain, sitting back down clutching your abdomen. "Right" he moves closer to where you were seated, picking you up bridal style as though it wasn't a big of a deal and made his way to the bath tub that was filled with warm water.

" 'i can' she said" he mocked your tone from a while ago, placing you down into the tub as you let out a sigh of content. "not my fucking fault you couldn't go easy" you let out after hearing him.

"Whatever you say honey. Anyways, can you manage from here? I've gotta go, have a date in like 2 hours"

You look at him as he smiles, showing the prettiest set of teeth, his eyes sparkling as always. You look down for a second. Giving a mental ted talk to yourself to gather up your thoughts and just tell him about your feelings.

But you were scared. You knew that you'd lose all the relationship you've had so far. Confessing always did that. And you didn't want to lose him.

"Y/n?" he called out, seeing you space out and clearly not listening to him. No. You can't confess. Let that be. You needed him beside you. Be it him as a friend, friends with benefit or whatever.

"Y/n..?" Yangyang said a little louder, nudging your shoulder as you step out of your head space. Turning back to look at him as you smile back "Yeah go ahead" you look down right after. "You sure? Are you okay?" you nod at the questions.

Yangyang looks skeptical for a while, looking at you knowing somethings going on in your mind but still turns back and makes his way back towards your room, out of the bathroom most probably now out of your house too.

After hearing the door click behind him you confirm your thoughts thinking he has left and broke out into a sob. Pathetic.

You had the chance to say it to him right that moment, but you didn't. Understandable that you were scared that you'd lose him. But you still could've shoot your shot.

The constant nagging of your friends on you being a pussy and to muster up your courage to confess to him ring through your head which only resulted in you choking on a harsh sob that left your throat.

You let yourself drown in your own thoughts further. It wasn't until you felt that your skin was turning moist that you got out of the tub.

You take a towel and wrap it around yourself, looking into the mirror, running a finger through your hair before heading out.

"Took you long enough" you hear, jumping as you thought that you were all alone in your apartment. You look up from the ground to see Yangyang, still in your room, sitting towards the edge of the bed, now getting up and making his way towards you.

"Why.. Are you still he-" he didn't let you complete your sentence. "Tell me what's wrong" he held a stern look in his eyes as he stood directly in front of you. He was going to get it out of you tonight

"Huh-?" "Tell me what's wrong Y/n i could hear you clear as day. Don't you dare try hiding anything from me." you back away, a little intimidated by the male in front of you.

"Honestly it was nothing i swear-" you try saying to which you were cut off again, him holding you by your shoulder to keep you from backing away further from him.

"Y/n do you think i'm stupid? You think i didn't notice the way you've been looking at me from the past few days?" you look at him, confused, clutching tightly onto the towel that covered your body.

"What do you mean?" you ask in a hushed tone. "I read your conversation with Sarah." he says, leaning down so that you were almost exactly of the same height.

You keep quiet, still not catching onto what he was trying to get at. "When were you going to tell me huh?"

Then it struck you. Shit.

"Wh-what do you mean?" you try acting oblivious, which didn't work as he shook you way harder than intended, you let out a yelp.

"you fucking love me and you didn't tell it to me?" you look down, not daring to look at him knowing he's about to break off everything you had, then and there.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you Y/n" his voice dropped multiple octaves, sending a shudder down your spine as you slowly look up to see him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he spoke in a much softer tone after seeing the redness in your eyes, which was the aftermath of your little breakdown inside the washroom.

"I.. Didn't want to" you spoke slowly at first. Taking in a deep breathe, you decide to let everything out, it's all going to end here anyways so why not?

"I didn't want to because i know you felt nothing like that. I didn't want to fucking lose you because of my stupid feeling. I know you had made it obvious that there would be no emotions involved, I'm sorry but I'm human. Maybe if you would've acted like a bitch to me I'd have not fallen for you. But nooo you had to be so kind. Do you know the number of times my heart broke part by part seeing you with other girls? When you'd come home, talk to me about your shitty dates and then just take me? It's hard not to fall for you Yangyang and I'm sorry about that-" you stop to breathe, feeling the tears well up for the second time that night.

"-And i understand that you feel nothing for me but please, please don't leave me for this i cannot afford to lose you. I'll get rid of my feelings for you, I'll try to but p-please don't-"

The rest of your words were swallowed up by Yangyang's mouth as he pressed a hard kiss against your lips, shutting you completely, backing you up until your back hit the wall behind you. The kiss was far from innocent as he shoved his tongue into your mouth after you parted your lips when he bit the bottom. You let out a whimper.

Things got heated between the pair of you when he decided to pull away. Foreheads connected, he looks at you dead in the eye.

"Stop speaking about my feelings for me as a third person, Y/n." your gaze fixated on the floor, finding the wood more interesting than ever. You felt fingers grip your chin as your head was tilted up to look straight back at Yangyang.

"You think i feel nothing for you. Think i feel not even an ounce of love for you and you're right. I don't feel for you just a little. Because you cloud my fucking thoughts every single hour of the day. Of course I like you, fuck no i love you but i was confused because, one moment you'd be all up against me and the other you don't even bother looking at me. So i decided it would be the best to start distracting myself, maybe go on few trashy dates, fuck someone else that wasn't you. But you just had to be in my thoughts every. single. second. So no. Now knowing that you love me, of course i won't let you forget your feelings for me, not on my watch that is."

You look up to him, looking straight at him as his gaze stayed fixed on your face, watching your eyes grow wide every passing second.

"Say it" he spoke with that low tone once again. "w-what?" you stammer.

"Say that you love me." your eyes widen more than it already had, you say nothing. The room eerily silent as you look all over his face to see if he spoke the truth or it was a mere confession out of desperation of wanting a girlfriend.

"Are you going to say it or should i fuck it out of you?" he spoke, a little above a whisper as he took a hold of your hands, pinning it down beside your head, leaning into the crook of your neck, placing a light kiss on your skin, then moving up to your ear lobe, pausing there, waiting for you to speak. "i.." you started. "hm?" he asked placing a kiss on your temple.

At no response from your end he dipped back down into your neck, biting it a little too hard, making you squirm. "Say it princess, don't keep me waiting" he said still continuing his demonstration. He bit down once again and this time you let out a loud gasp. Squealing you say "I-i love you"

He felt his lips grow into a smirk against your skin, letting go of your hands placing them around his neck as his hands moved to grip your hips. "What was that? I couldn't hear you." His hands snaked behind you going dangerously low, placing it on your ass giving it a light squeeze. You whine as you squeal out louder "I love you!"

He stopped biting the skin of your neck, leaning back, admiring the newly formed bruises that replaced the older ones.

He let go of you and pulled you forward, right into his chest, holding you in place with a tight embrace. "I love you too" he spoke in a voice way softer compared to his actions not even a second ago. "I'm sorry i made you feel unloved." he rocked you back and forth. "I'm so sorry" he repeated, placing a kiss on top of your head.

"I'll show you how much i love you" he said, not giving you a chance to speak as he lifted you up making his way towards the bed where things were intimate a while ago.

"Yang not again! We just fucked like an hour ago" you said giggling as he placed soft kisses all over your face.

"There were no strings attached in that baby" he said as he lowered you onto the bed, standing up, removing his shirt for the second time that night.

"Oh this time i'll show you just how much i love you"

That's it!! Was that good?? I'm sorry if it's trashy! This is infact, the first ever time I've written a one-shot! Do tell me if you liked reading it luvs! 💗

(requests are open and so am i open to making new friends! Go ahead, tell me how your day was and stuff!)

483 notes · View notes

fijiangecko · 3 years

Text

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 5 - The Point of No Return

previous | next

Read it on AO3 here

A/N: updating every two weeks-ish depending on school

~~~~~~

The car ride is silent the rest of the way back, tension thick and unsettling as the wind blows through the shattered back windshield. Iwaizumi takes the back roads to avoid police and mafia members, and it finally sets in that things aren’t going to be the same for you again. Everything you’ve built up over the past four and a half years is slipping through your fingers like wet sand.

And you’re the one adding water to the mix.

All of the friends you’ve made; Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, Sawamura, Sugawara, Asahi, Noya, Tanaka and not to mention all of the little interns and secretaries you’ve learned to love. Takeda and Ukai, the two who helped you out of a dark place, unbeknownst to them, but desperate enough to give you a chance.

Then there’s Kuroo, who’s sitting in the backseat right now. You don’t dare to look behind you to take a glance. You can’t imagine how he must feel. Betrayed. You both had grown to rely on one another and now he’s learning that you aren’t who you say you are. Just a liar disguised as someone who wants to help. While thinking, you absentmindedly push your cuticles back and stare straight ahead at the road. You trust that Oikawa and Iwa are looking out enough for you to clock out and realize the mess you’ve made, not only for yourself but for them as well.

Tendou didn’t seem to care about them, though. And he didn’t call them out by name so they can still get out of this. You stop messing with your hands and purse your lips. But that doesn’t explain how the three of us all worked together back there. Kuroo’s not dumb. He’ll figure it out.

You start to pick at your skin once more.

Numbness feels like pin pricks across your body as you sit and stare into the blank night. Time flies out of the window and what feels like seconds later the soft rumbling of the engine comes to a halt. You blink and take in the building in front of you.

A confused expression covers your face as you turn to Iwaizumi, silently asking why you’re here, why you’re home. He doesn’t answer, instead getting up and out of the seat. Oikawa follows him, each putting on their coats as a shield from the night air. Kuroo and yourself remain in the vehicle, wondering what the next step is.

With a heavy heart, you step out of the car and brace yourself for the cold blast. Hajime passes you the keys, fingers lingering on yours in a silent plea. You shake it off and proceed to the front door, listening for any sign that a certain someone was following behind. Light footsteps make your heart beat faster, keys slightly shaking as you force them into the lock.

“I think we’re gonna head back…” Hajime’s voice is soft as he leans in next to your ear, hot breath making shivers run down your spine. You turn to look at him, and nod.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Oikawa places his hand on your shoulder, worry crossing his face.

Kuroo stands behind everyone, watching the two crowd you as you stand meekly beside them. He doesn’t want to believe that you could have been, or are a part of any of these killings, but his gut is telling him that there’s more. That these two are involved as well, and that this is far from being over.

With one last nod, they back off and let you open your door. The two men flash a glance at Kuroo but quickly hurry off into the night. Slowly, as if there are chains wrap around his ankles, Kuroo places one foot in front of the other and walks closer into the apartment.

You’ve already taken off your shoes and shed your coat as well as your purse. You feel absolutely drained from the anticipation of this conversation. Kuroo felt the same force draining his energy as he removes his shoes and heads to the same table you were all working at just earlier that day.

The chair screeches against the floor when he yanks it from it’s position with a bit too much force. Your hands lay flat on the cool countertop and the thousand yard stare takes over your eyes, thoughts flying in and out of your headspace. Too much information and consideration to handle at once, you just let everything relax and let out a long, deep sigh.

“So…” His voice is gruff, low and drawn out as he stares at the wood grain on the table.

You snap out of your trance and turn your body, hips leaning against the granite. “So-” your voice shakes ever so slightly, but you continue, “-what do you want to know?” Arms fold around your chest in a form of both protection and comfort. His eyes meet yours for a split second when he tries to sneak a peek, but he returns to tracing the aged wood with his eyes.

It takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts. To be fair, the question you just asked was a loaded one, and you are putting him on the spot. “Y/N… I really don’t even know where to start.” His eyes shut and he tries to rub the tiredness out of them. He figures going for the lowest hanging fruit first would make it easier to get details. “Are you…still a member?”

“No, god no.” You take a seat directly in front of him, but still he refuses to look at you. Your fingers weave together and sit on top of the wood, softly squeezing. “I haven’t been for a long time.”

After a few moments of silence, you elaborate. “I left them about six months before Takeda and Ukai asked me to join them. I haven’t had any contact with the mafia since I’ve left and I never intended for anyone to find out.”

“You weren’t gonna tell me?” His golden eyes throw you into a haze when they meet your own. He looks hurt, even more betrayed if that was possible.

“No.” You take your time in responding, hoping that somewhere deep inside of him, Kuroo could find it in himself to understand you.. “It would’ve been safer for everyone if they didn’t know.”

“I thought you trusted me?” His voice cracked, as if he was crying out to you. The question shatters your heart, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and assure him. “I mean, it seems like Oikawa and Iwaizumi already know since they aren’t here.”

“I do trust you.” The response is immediate. His eyes tell you that he doesn’t fully believe you, and once more you have to explain. “And they know some things about my past but nothing like this, I told them we could talk tomorrow but I wanted to speak with you first.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek. “It was safer when no one knew, and now that you’ve been seen with me we’re all in danger.”

“Do you think that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself? Or that the other two are incompetent of using their gifts?” The volume and conviction in his voice grows with each syllable. Disappointment quickly turns into agitation as his eyebrows twitch and mouth twists further into a frown.

“No, Kuroo, it’s just that-”

“Just what?!” You clench your jaw at the outburst. “You pretended for years to be one of us and not once did you think you would’ve been more trusted if you told us?!”

His fists flex on the tabletop, his knuckles turning white. He refuses to break eye contact and you sit there for a few seconds, realizing that this is not what you wanted to happen. You knew he would be angry, anyone in their right mind would be, but after working together for so long, you thought things might have been a little more civil. “Like I said, it was safer when no one kne-”

“Like hell Y/N!” Kuroo stands up and slams those clenched fists down. The booming from his fist pairs nicely with the sound of the chair toppling over, but you don’t flinch. Your thousand yard stare returns when it hits you that no matter what you say, he isn’t going to hear you out. “You just wanted to protect yourself from the Port Mafia and nothing else! The fact that your two ‘buddies’ already knew more than me is suspicious as fuck too!”

It’s not his fault. Pressure builds at your temples and your eyes hurt, the slow pulsating of your heartbeat grows louder and louder. You bring one hand up to rub your temples and take a few deep breaths. I would react the same.

“...you’re right...” It’s the only response you can think of. The only thing that can end this conversation as soon as possible.

Kuroo’s face falls, his own little glimpse of hope shattered by those two words. He was thinking that this was somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe you had run into these guys before? Or maybe you knew them from your childhood? But your unwillingness to look at him paired with the confirmation of his accusation makes his stomach churn. “I trusted you!” His voice is much louder than the pounding in your head, and the message is clear. “I mean, what the fuck?! Were you just using us as a shield for the time being? Until they eventually found you?!”

Now he’s just shouting anything that comes to his head. His perception of you twisted into something sinister. Kuroo didn’t want to think about any of the good memories; the countless nights you spent at the office working on cases, teasing Kenma at the bars, having drinking contests with Bokuto, celebrating birthdays and agency anniversaries. All of them are tainted now, “knowing” that you were hiding something so huge and unforgiving from him.

On the other end of the table, you sit and in silence. Each word from him is like a stab to the back, each digging further into your body. This is it. They’re going to hunt him down if I leave and Oikawa and Iwaizumi are suspects. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. Down the drain.

He takes your silence as confirmation. “Fuck this. Fuck you.”

With those final words, he starts to gather his belongings. You finally blink after what feels like hours and watch him. His movements stutter every now and then, telling you that he isn’t in full control of his emotions or motions.

Right before he yanks the front door open, you stand at the end of the hall and speak ever so softly, weary of Kuroo’s response. “Please don’t tell the others…”

He fully stops his actions and head turns, holding a scornful gaze. “Don’t come back to the agency.” The threat is accentuated by the slam of the door which shakes the apartment.

Pin pricks wrack your body, a shiver runs down your spine and you sit there, numb. One of the only people you really cared for in this new life hates you now and deep down you know that this is the point of no return. The door has been locked behind you by a man with red hair and wants to ruin what you have.

Tendou knows. This thought finally crosses your mind. The Port Mafia knows that I’m alive and here in Yokohama. If that Miya boy remembers anything about you, then he might know about Oikawa and Iwaizumi. And even though Tendou doesn’t know who Kuroo is, he’s going to hunt him down now that you moved to protect him during the fight.

You stand in that hallway for hours, just thinking over your options and the thousands of possibilities that each decision would have. You only want to do what’s right. You have to fix the mess you’ve created. On its own, your body follows a procedure you’ve only done once before and you don’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Cold air settles low over the dimly lit streets, the soft rays of the morning sun warming whatever they touched. For all of the other members of the ADA, it was just another work day as they entered the office group by group. Hajime and Tooru enter roughly on time, nervousness bubbling in the pits of their stomachs as they watch the door carefully, waiting for their black haired friend to enter the office.

Normally, the work day starts around eight for preliminary paperwork and meetings, especially if you’re assigned to a big case. The clock now reads eight forty-five. Each time the hand moves, Oikawa feels like hurling. Neither you or Kuroo have shown up, and the interns have tried calling you both, but to no avail.

Three minutes pass when the front door squeaks. The damn thing has been needing oil for months now, but Iwaizumi thanks whatever God there is that lets him know someone is here. He doesn’t turn immediately, knowing it would make him more of a suspect. Heavy footsteps tell him that it’s a man that has walked in, and much to his relief Kuroo is walking to his desk. Heavy bags fall under his eyes, dark circles enhancing the tired look adorning his face.

“Hey Kuroo!” Bokuto, boisterous as ever, slaps his shoulder with a bright smile. When the feeling isn’t returned, his grin falters.

Kuroo continues to his desk and sits down with a huff, turning on his computer and minding his own damn business. Last night was awful, as he had gotten no sleep from his consistent tossing and turning from your conversation. He tried tea, warm milk, pills and all forms of home remedy but everything left a bad taste in his mouth. Something in the back of his keeps telling him that there’s more to your story.

“Um, sorry to bug you, Mr. Kuroo,” Hinata, one of the newest interns, stands next to the desk. “Have you heard from Y/N at all?” Whatever he was working on came to a halt, pen pushing hard into the paper.

Across the room, Iwaizumi and Oikawa listen closely to the encounter, having already told Hinata that they aren’t able to get a hold of you at all and that they assumed you would be arriving with Kuroo.

“No.” The pen scribbles once again.

Hinata continues to stand there, awkwardly looking around since his main task this morning was to make sure all reports from yesterday's investigation got submitted, and if you weren’t there then he wouldn’t be able to do anything. He swallows. “Would you happen to know where she is?”

“No.” Any idle chit chatter stops, and everyone turns to the scene. Hinata’s eyes go wide, and he quickly apologizes before scurrying off. The other detectives glare at Kuroo, wondering what his problem is. After his outburst, Kuroo looks directly at Oikawa and Iwaizumi, as if to threaten them, silently saying that he knows.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Sawamura, ever the mediator, walks over to the group of desks and takes a seat in your chair.

“Not in the mood today.”

“I think we can all tell.” Sawamura smiles, trying his best to lighten the atmosphere. Everyone figures something finally happened between you two (since it was fairly obvious that something was growing) and it didn’t go down great. “Hinata’s just trying to make sure he can get his job done for the day, so don’t be too hard on him. If anything, all of us are wondering where Y/N is since she’s never late unless it’s an emergency.”

“Well, she is in the middle of something, but apparently none of us are good enough for her to tell us.” Each word stings the ears of the peeping toms across the pond. Kuroo did not take the news well, each of the men think and they start to text one another.

Kuroo’s statement left a large majority of the agency confused, Kenma, Sugawara, Asahi, Tanaka, Nishinoya and the interns keep an ear out for whatever’s happening.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi continue to text one another, coming to the conclusion that they should go to your apartment and check on how you’re doing all things considered, but they sit and wait for the right moment to escape the tense situation.

Sawamura continues to push, not knowing about the cracks in the dam he’s forming. “You think she’s doing okay? I mean, she doesn’t talk about family all that much but if she’s missing work then something pretty bad probably happened.”

“I mean, Y/N’s pretty reasonable about work,” Sugawara pipes up. “If she was going through something then surely she must’ve told Takeda and Ukai.”

“You’d be surprised what she’s capable of hiding. I severely doubt that either of them know what’s up with her.” With Kuroo’s heavy insinuation that there’s something going on, and this makes everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

“What are you all talking about?” Disturbed by the ruckus, Ukai opens the door to his office and a plume of smoke leaves his lips. Annoyance lays heavy on his tone and he looks at the group that has gathered around Kuroo’s desk. The lit cigarette in his hand fills the agency with a sour smell, one that none of the crew is particularly fond of but it’s their boss. What can they say?

“Y/N hasn’t shown up yet,” Sugawara takes initiative. “And apparently Kuroo knows something that we don’t.” Rather than taking the depressing outlook, he quirks his brow and smiles jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood and clear the air.

The two that are out of the conversation start to gather their things, unbeknownst to them that Kuroo is keeping tabs on what they’ve been doing. He saw them texting and he figures they were planning to check up on you since you all are working on a case together, but his agitation grows larger with each person that enters the conversation.

Even though you did ask him not to tell anyone - to hell with your requests. You didn’t bother to let anyone in for years on this little secret, and at this point everyone deserves to know or they’ll just keep bothering him until he lets it out.

“Oh yeah?” Ukai prods as Iwa and Oikawa stand up and head for the door.

“Yeah. She lied to you all for years.” His voice is crisp and clear. Any sound that was present before stopped immediately, including the footsteps of your companions. They stop dead in their tracks, Oikawa’s hand on the door handle and they wait. “I don’t think she’ll be coming back.”

“The hell you talkin’ about, kid?” Ukai’s hand raises to his face, and he takes a long drag before slowly letting smoke pass through his lips as he looks across the room.

“Y/N was a member of the Port Mafia and you let her under your roof, let you work next to you. She lied to all of us.”

It feels like the world stopped.

Everyone stops breathing collectively, skepticism clouding their minds. Y/N? She wouldn’t…. She wouldn’t have done that… would she?

Each detective and every intern takes a moment to think over the crazy accusation that Kuroo is throwing out there, seemingly without any evidence. Kenma, even though he was the closest with Kuroo, looks uneasy as he imagines you working with those bastards. Bokuto and Akaashi, each at their respective desks, face the accuser and furrow their brows. You four had so many memories, so many nights out laughing together.

Sugawara, Asahi and Sawamura all share a look. They’ve known you since the creation of the agency, and have only known you to be helpful in times of need. Not once had it crossed any of their minds that you could have ever worked alongside the mafia. You were just selfless and smart.

“Y/N… an ex-mafia member?” Thinking out loud, Ukai stares Kuroo down. He’s taking this as a sort of personal attack. Ukai was the one who sought you out and asked you to start this agency with Takeda and the three others. He saw something different in you, a natural sort of gift apart from the supernatural stuff you got going on. Ukai saw that you just wanted to help and in those days you struggled to communicate with the others. You closed yourself off for a long time, and his personal project for months was just to make you comfortable. And now Kuroo is saying that you used to work for people who killed and stole from those that you now help.

This better be a sick joke.

“Yeah, Oikawa and Iwaizumi could tell you all about it.” If this is a game of chess, that would’ve been a checkmate. “We ran into some mafia members last night and they started to talk with Y/N.” His eyes shift to Oikawas, whose hand is still on the door. “Right, guys?”

Knuckles turning white, Oikawa doesn’t dare to turn around and face a room full of prying eyes. Iwaizumis hands turn into fists, his jaw clenches and his shoulders tense. Everyone’s breaths hitch in their throats as they wait for any sort of confirmation.

They’re met with silence

Kuroo huffs, as if he’s won. The reality of the situation settles heavily on everyone’s shoulders and it drags their hearts down to the floor. Whoever they knew, whatever version of Y/N they thought they knew was just a phony. A constructed personality that you put up just to cover that you were part of a group that would murder and steal from people.

As soon as everyone’s hearts shatter, Oikawa finally turns the handle on the door and walks out. He’s aware that people are still watching him, but the scenario has changed drastically in the last five minutes and the only thing on his mind is only on making sure that: one, you’re okay and two, that the mafia hasn’t already found your house.

The pair practically run to the station ignoring the curses from strangers that they bump into and shove past as they squeeze onto the next train.

Back in the office, no one dares to move an inch after the door slams shut. Ukai lets the cigarette sit loosely on his lips, almost falling out when he tries to speak.

“Listen,” his voice is shaking, “I’m sure this is just some sort of misunderstanding-”

“Not when she told me herself.” Kuroo refuses to let them be fooled anymore. He can’t bear to just let all of friends think that they know someone that they don’t. It’s not fair to them. These people have done nothing to deserve being led through the dark. Y/N had no right to hide this information and the fact she didn’t want anyone to know is unnerving.

“Why would she ever have been with them?” Ukai can’t take this shit. He won’t take this kind of slander. In the back of his mind, he’s always known that you had a story to tell, but he was never one to force things out of people. This was on a different level, but nonetheless he wasn’t just going to let Kuroo, one of your closer associates in the agency, try and give you hell for something that may or may not be true.

“I didn’t get that part, but none of us know anything about her from before she joined the agency if I’m not mistaken. She lied to all of us.” Kuroo’s conviction never faltered, not once did he stutter while speaking nor did he shy away from eye contact.

In the depths of his heart, locked under thousands of doors he has a yearning, wanting to understand why. Why didn’t you tell him? Why were you with them? Too bad all of the locks to get there were met with anger and irrationality. His emotions misguide him in this moment, and all he sees is red. It felt like he had been stabbed a million times over; he thought your relationship was going somewhere, that the trust you had built up was going to be worth something.

Everything’s shattered now.

“What if she changed? What if she just wanted to help people?” Ukai marches over to his desk and stares down. A challenge to what was previously a beat down.

“Why didn’t she just tell us? What was so hard about telling us so that we could help her?” Kuroo stands to look down on Ukai. “Huh!?”

Both of the men have snarl’s etched into their faces. Both trying their best to understand how this all happened.

“He’s got a point, Ukai.” Sawamura speaks softly, grasping Ukai’s shoulder as if to tell him to back down. “We don’t know anything about Y/N.”

“So now you’re piling in?!” Ukai’s gaze shifts to Daichi’s. How could he? Being one of the original members alongside you, Ukai thought he would at least try and understand your point of view.

“I’m just saying that he’s making some decent points, and Kuroo hasn’t done me wrong yet. Y/N is a great detective, but none of us know anything about her.”

“Hey guys, what’s with all the ruckus?” The small figure of Takeda stands in the hallway, right outside of his office while he fidgets with his hands.

“Kuroo’s accusing Y/N of being an ex mafia member,” Ukai spits.

Eyes wide, Takeda glances around the office, taking note of who’s in the room. “Where is she?”

“No one knows. Iwaizumi and Oikawa just left.” Daichi doesn’t want to instigate further, only telling his boss what has happened.

“Well at least those two have decent heads on them. Instead of wondering and making accusations why don’t you all go ask her yourself.” This rarely happens. Takeda is usually optimistic and reasonable, but on rare occasions his face goes rigid and he loses his happy aura. “Kuroo’s words may be true, but aren’t you all detectives? Isn’t it your job to investigate accusations and figure out if they’re true or not?”

Everyone in the room knows he’s right, and they don’t dare try and talk back. Kuroo returns to his seat and watches as everyone wonders what to do next.

“If you aren’t going to go ask her yourself or are waiting for Iwaizumi and Oikawa to return please get back to work. We’ve lost valuable time and I’m sure this will all blow over soon.” The smile that crosses Takeda’s lips is forced, but it calms the overall anxiety trapped within the walls of the agency. “Ukai and Kuroo, would you mind meeting me in my office?”

The small chit chatter returns and blends with the sound of the A.C. unit as the three men walk down the hallway. It feels like it stretches with each step, and the tension rises as the blonde and black haired men both hold the anticipation of being scolded in their chests.

Never one to raise his voice, Takeda calmly sits them down and explains his disappointment. He expresses that he does not care what happened the previous night or if you truly were a member of the Port Mafia.

“Y/N is an adult, and she has a right to tell certain people certain things. It was highly immature and disrespectful of you to go around telling everyone her own business. Plus, that knowledge has serious implications, and if she told you then that means she trusted you a great deal considering none of us have ever heard such a thing.” Kuroo can’t tell what Takeda’s eyes hold as he speaks, but he knows that several of those doors unlocked with his small speech. “You still have a job to do. I expect you to work this out with her, Iwaizumi and Oikawa as well as finish the case the four of you were assigned.”

Takeda dismisses Kuroo without any more guidance, and he returns to his desk. Bokuto and Akaashi keep to themselves, almost afraid of what would happen if they asked or even looked at Kuroo. Your desk, which is directly in front of him, sits there.

Empty

You never really bothered to decorate it with much. There were a few pens you really liked, Kuroo always noting the brand and buying you some for Christmas, but not much else. Well, besides the one picture propped up against the mug of pens. The one picture of everyone at the agency during the last Christmas party. Everyone’s faces slightly red from spending the night drinking, but big and bright smiles adorning everyone's features.

More doors unlock at the memory.

Running in work pants was never Iwaizumi’s favorite thing to do. He always favored a good pair of basketball shorts and a tank top for his runs, but today he didn’t have a choice. As soon as the chime for doors played over the subway speakers, he hit Oikawa on the shoulder and they both sprintined up the stairs, out onto the streets of Yokohama.

The morning breeze swept across the streets. You preferred living on the outskirts of the city, but not quite in the suburbs. The closest train station was about a twenty minute walk, and an eleven minute run if you were Tooru and Hajime.

The minute Kuroo started to spout the mafia rumors, their anxiety skyrocketed. Sure they trusted you, but they had no idea just how much you told him: like how they were ex-members just like you.

They assumed not, because Kuroo never lumped you in with them, but it still was concerning that he was just telling everyone your biggest secret like it was nothing.

Both men have shed their jackets, choosing to carry them and flip their ties over their shoulders as they run. Pedestrians and drivers yelled at them as they crossed streets with red lights, but they didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

You weren’t responding to anyone’s messages and this was right after you not only told someone about your past, but right after you “reconnected” with an old friend after years. The last response either of them has gotten from you was a simple “yeah” after Tooru had asked if everything went okay.

After this morning, they knew that was a fucking lie.

Your apartment complex wasn’t gated, and the first thing they notice is the lack of your car in the parking lot. The next thing that catches their eyes is the metal barrel that was used for trash that had smoke coming from it.

The two slow their pace and approach the bin carefully, but when Hajime looks past the rim he recognizes some of your clothes, among other things like scraps of paper. Tooru looks to your apartment, and nudges Hajime with urgency. Looking at his partner, Hajime slowly turns to wherever Toory is facing.

“Fuck…” The door to your apartment is wide open, and from outside they can see it’s been torn to shreds. Furniture flipped over, lamps and light fixtures smashed and no lights.

A gaping hole replaces their stomachs, and for the first time in a long while neither of them has any clue what to do.

14 notes · View notes

winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years

Text

All I ever do is run (Bucky x depressed reader)

All i ever do is run

Bucky x depressed reader

Word count 1576

Warnings: depression

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

You were a happy person. You loved being around people, making them laugh, and you lit up any room you walked into. You were high energy and hard working. And you were always there for the rest of the team in the Tower, helping them get through the roughest times and the hardest missions. Everything was perfect. Except for one thing

It was all a lie.

You didn’t know when it started or why it started - although you had some solid assumptions - but what you did know was that you couldn’t talk about it. Or maybe you didn’t want to. Or maybe you were too scared to. You didn't really care, as long as you kept it hidden. And so, you put on this façade for everyone. Fake smiles replaced your real ones without a trace. No matter how much you wanted to stay in bed, you forced yourself to face the day. Even if that meant getting up before the sun to train with Steve. And if anyone ever suspected anything, you’d laugh it off and change the subject.

And you made it by pretty well. And by that, you meant no one had caught onto your act yet. It had been at least….4 months since it started? Again, you weren’t quite sure what the trigger was. But inside...it had started taking its toll on you.

You weren’t really sleeping well anymore. Or at all. You used a concealer to hide the dark circles under your eyes that showed pure exhaustion. And on top of that, you were also emotionally exhausted. Being happy was hard work, and it was becoming a second full time job for you. Your energy was weening, and you had mellowed out to slightly below normal energy levels. It was becoming immensely difficult to contain the sadness that was eating you alive with each passing day.

Maybe you did want to tell someone. But you didn’t feel like you could,

So you kept it inside, smiling when anyone was looking but dropping it as soon as you went behind closed doors. And some of the team was starting to worry about you. Steve was the first, but he was always worried about everyone on the team. Bucky too, but he noticed because he, well….He was developing feelings for you. Not that you knew - if you did, maybe you wouldn’t be trying to suppress your own feelings for him. He didn't say anything, because he wasn’t entirely sure what was bothering you, or if you really were just tired. But pretty soon, he would have his question answered

You got the text from Steve at 2:43 in the morning:

Mission. Hostage situation. Meet us on the roof. We leave in 15.

You groaned in response. It's not like you were sleeping anyways, but you were so goddamn tired. The kind of tired that you feel aching in your bones, that no amount of sleep could cure.

You rolled out of bed because you didn’t really have a choice at the moment. It took you 5 minutes to suit up and head up to the roof, where Steve and Bucky were waiting. You were just waiting on Nat now.

“Y/N, you feeling okay?” Bucky asked

You wanted to groan, but that would give you away. It was way too early for this kind of thing. “Yeah Buck. I’m fine.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look...awful.”

You shot him a glare. “Gee, thanks. I just woke up. But really,” you shook your head and shrugged, “I’m just tired.”

He looked at you with concern written all over his face. “Yeah, I gathered that, but you look like you haven’t slept in days. Weeks even.” It was now that you realized you had forgotten to put a concealer on. This was the first time anyone was seeing the dark circles under your eyes. You looked away trying to figure out a way to talk around this, but just then Nat came on the quinjet and you prepped for launch. Before you could say anything, bucky said softly, “We’ll talk about this when we get back.”

Great. That gave you approximately 4 hours to think of some excuse. And around 3 of those hours were going to be spent kicking HYDRA ass.

The battle was brutal, and you nearly made 3 lethal mistakes because you were distracted thinking about this impending conversation you were going to be forced into later. Nothing serious happened, but you got a few more gashes than was necessary had you been more focused.

Steve was obviously worried about you, giving you his Cap speech on reckless behavior on the ride back, but you tuned him out, merely nodding along. You were still thinking about the excuse you still hadn’t come up with. And you kept stealing sideways glances at Bucky, who you would catch staring at you as if trying to figure out what was wrong.

When you landed, you booked it down to your room, the sun now rising. You heard footsteps following you, but you didn’t really care. When you got to your room and moved to close the door behind you, something blocked the way. You looked up to see Bucky with his foot jammed in the doorway. You sighed and looked away. “Please, Barnes, can’t this wait? I told you I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, doll.” he offered, noticing how evasive you were being. How much you really didn’t seem to want to have this conversation. Which made him believe it was every bit more necessary to have it.

You tried again, desperation setting in. you felt like you were going to break any second. “Please Bucky just...not right now, I can’t…” you took a breath, unable to finish your sentence without crying.

“Y/N, what are you trying to run away from?” You looked up at him when he said this, and you could feel your hands start to shake. “Because it isn’t working. And I’m really worried about you.”

And that was when you realized.

All I ever do is run…

Tears started pooling in your eyes and you staggered back, and Bucky took that as an invitation to come in. He closed the door behind him and he either hugged you or caught you as your knees buckled. Both happened at the same time. Sobs overtook your body and you clung to his suit, dirty with sweat and blood, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t hide this, you couldn’t run any longer.

Bucky held you tightly, a bit taken aback by the sudden wave of emotion. He had known you had been hiding something, but Christ, this was way worse than he thought it would be. He held your trembling body as you cried, you repeating “I’m sorry,” nd him shushing you, and telling you that it was going to be okay.

How long you sat together on the floor,you weren’t sure. But eventually your tears slowed and your breathing became more even. After a few more minutes of sitting there in the silence, your eyes widened with realization.

What the FUCK had you just done?

You tried to wriggle out of the embrace, stumbling over your words, “I- I’m sorry Buck, y-you weren’t s-supposed to see that…” Buck only tightened his grip on you, saying “Stop that. You’ve been holding this in for too long. I noticed something was wrong, but I didn’t realize how bad it was. I’m sorry Y/N.” You looked down as he pulled back to look at you, still keeping a gentle grip on your shoulders. “You aren’t sleeping are you?” You shook your head. “Do you remember the last time you slept?”

You shook your head again and croaked out a “No…”

You heard him sigh, but it wasn’t in annoyance or exasperation, it was more because he was mad at himself for not saying something sooner. “What else has been going on?”

Before you could stop yourself, you whispered “Me.”

“What do you me-”

“You asked me what I’m trying to run from.” You met his gaze again, new tears forming in your eyes. “I’m trying to run from myself Buck. but it's not working. I don’t know the last time i was actually happy was. I don’t sleep anymore, I just...can’t. I'm always so tired and sad and it’s so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but...It’s not.”

You saw his face soften, but still etched with worry. “How long has this been going on?” You shrug and say “I dunno. Months I guess.”

You saw him swallow before he continued, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged again, offering a weak “I didn’t feel like I could.” Fresh tears spilling over, Bucky wrapped his arms around you again. “Does anyone else know?” You offered a dry laugh. “I mean, I’m sure Steve knows something’s up, because he is Steve after all, but no one knows what you didn’t know before coming in here.”

He sighed again, trying to figure out what to do. He just wanted to help you. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me alone right now. I’m so tired of being alone.”

He smiled and ran a hand up and down your back. “Anything you want, doll.”

#buckybarnes #wintersoldier #avengers #marvel #mcu #steverogers #captainamerica #depression #depressioncomfort

92 notes · View notes

avas-inner-demons-are-babies · 4 years

Text

Ohana

Ship: None (Though you may take implications as you please)

Summary: Leif has always insisted that he should be allowed to do things on his own. Well, now he’s on his own and honestly...he isn’t enjoying it. Perhaps a bit of new company can help him sort out his feelings.

A/N: Hey everyone! World’s most confused college freshman here, bringing you another MID fic that took waaay to long to get typed up. Legitimately, this has been sitting in my Google Docs for months, just taunting me. But there’s been a little less stresso in my espresso lately, so I took time to actually make myself sit down and get it done. I may not ship Ava and Leif personally, but their dynamic is just *chefs kiss*. I’ll never get over that whole “If you promise not to kill me then I won’t leave you behind.” “You’re with me till you die” scene. It makes me feel things. But anyways, this is nearly 14 full pages in G-Docs, and I hope you can all enjoy!

A/N 2.0: So apparently one of the cons of staying up late to finish a fic is forgetting to attach the actual fic itself to the post. My bad guys, here she be.

In his couple hundred years of living, Leif can proudly boast that he has done many, many things; some very common for Daemos of his age; others common to those much older than him; and there have even been a few select occasions when he has done things that even the most aged and experienced elders cannot ever claim to have done (getting exiled, befriending a prince, travelling dimensions to a world full of humans, befriending a human, living with a human, laughing with a human...the list seems to grow daily now).

However, out of all the various activities that he has taken part in throughout his life, he can safely say that people-watching has not been one of them. Back on Daemos, staring- like most other interactions, whether they be direct or otherwise- often resulted in battle; which, in turn, resulted in a lot of shouting and blood-shed. It was a silent show of disrespect and of challenge; and only idiots and warriors sought out battles willingly. And while the title of ‘warrior’ technically goes hand-in-hand with Leif’s recently earned place as a knight, the position is just that- recently earned. And despite what some may say, he is not an idiot. Considerate? Scholarly? Absolutely not. But street-smart and clever? Let’s just say he hadn’t become an infamous assassin by running solely off of reckless impulse and uneducated whims. But now, here on Earth, almost all of those skills have fallen into uselessness, and he can people-watch without any real concern for his life.

And by the Gods is he watching.

He is watching and scanning and listening and praying. Praying for a familiar face. Listening for the sound of a high voice discussing things of no importance, or for a loud, bratty complaint about anything at all; for a gentle-but-stern reprimand laced with patience, or a subtly nervous acknowledgement of some strange discomfort; even for a soft-but-proud observation of something completely obvious. Scanning for a flash of hot pink eyes or a bobbing carrot-top head of hair or a giant amidst the crowd of short humans. Watching so intensely for all of these things that the rest of the world seems to have filtered down into a watery hum.

To put it quite plainly, Leif is lost. Very lost in a very crowded place, with no idea where his group has vanished to or where he himself should (or even can) be. It had been fun at first; being able to do as he pleased; wandering wherever his whims decided to take him, stealing food from a group of small humans, kicking over trash cans, and just overall being a minor nuisance. But invigoration tends to fade very quickly when one is travelling a lot of unfamiliar terrain, and as it goes, so too does energy. It doesn’t help that they’d been at this “music festival” -as Ava had called it- for quite some time before he’d broken away from her and the others, and admittedly, he is starting to feel the strain on his feet from all the walking. In addition, the ridiculously large gathering of humans that bustle around him is beginning to leave him overwhelmed. And on top of that…

“...it’s starting to get cold” He pouts internally, suddenly rather grateful for the double-layered, long sleeve human shirt that Ava had gotten him. Ever since the Fall Festival, he’d noticed the air outside growing chillier by the day. It was starting to get to the point where their thoughtful human host unusually protective prisoner was considering going back to the Sacred Ma’all and obtaining them some “coats and hats and stuff”, to quote her specifically.

As a particularly nippy gust of winds arrives, lashing the tips of his ears as it dances through, he finds himself wishing desperately for these objects that he can not even properly picture.

Looking up at the sky, Leif can just make out the thin line of orange coating the horizon as the sun begins its lazy descent. Eyes narrowed, he decides to take a break. Plomping himself down on a nearby bench, he sighs, combing his fingers through his absolute mess of a mane.

“Ava promised.” He whispers, “She promised. They’ll be back. They have to come back.”

The city-dwelling regulars that skitter past him hardly spare a glance for the strange, mumbling man on the bench. It’s nothing they don’t already see on their daily commutes, and most would not blame them for their experienced silence. But Leif, who has no way of knowing what they know, takes their purposefully imposed ignorance as a personal offence. He feels segregated from their reality. Invisible.

Alone.

Leif hisses in a sharp breath as the word taunts him. Pressing his head into the palms of his hands, he represses a shudder. He should be used to this by now; being left to his own devices. How many times now has it been? How many betrayals and abandonments? Four? Five? More than one person should be able to count. He has been able to handle himself just fine before. So why now? Why now is he having such issues with finding his own way? He might call it ironic if he knew the meaning of the word.

“It’s because you got used to the cushy life.” A small voice in the back on his thoughts croons, “You liked being chummy with the Prince and his guard dogs. You liked that there was always food at the ready, and that you never had to worry where you were sleeping next. You liked the stability. The safety. And in time, you even came to like the laziness that this new world allowed.”

“That’s not true!” Leif barks back, not realizing how loud the proclamation was until several humans passing by wince and stumble as their paces quicken. He is sure to lower his voice as he continues to mumble to himself, “I can still take care of myself. I haven’t gone soft. I can do this.”

Taking in a long deep breath, he steels his will against the unpleasant thoughts racing around in his head. He bows his head and closes his eyes. When he opens them again a few ticks later, there’s a clear change. They’re collected. Focused.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do this.” He reassures himself, feeling some of that original vamped-up feeling return, “I’m a Daemos dammit! I don’t need some human to hold my hand! I’ll find my own way home! And then.-then I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them for leaving me!”

The mental pep talk does great things for Leif. Now enraged and brimming with confidence, breathing heavily and nearly quaking with the emotion of it all, he puts on a sneer and glares out into the crowd. His fingers flex as he summons forth his sickles, ready to swing them out at any unfortunate soul that crosses his path. He stands, his knuckles white around their hilts. The dying sunlight has no effect on him anymore. His goal is apparent in his mind. He is prepared. Determined.

He takes one strong, bold step forward…

...and is subsequently swept off his feet by the force of a group of teens pushing past him.

Nearly losing his balance, Leif’s arms flail in an attempt to regain his balance, and he immediately bumps into a young couple. As they turn on him with vicious glares, he steps away from them. Disorientation takes this chance to rush through his system. As he fumbles about, one of his sickles manages to catch on the shirt of a small child toddling by with his mother. Leif jerks one direction while the boy jerks in the other. A shirt sleeve tears, and the little one goes sprawling to the ground. An ear-piercing shriek explodes from tiny lungs. All heads turn in their direction. Wide-eyed Leif throws away his weapons and presses his hands against his sensitive ears. While staggering away from all the attention, he runs into yet another man who- being caught completely off guard- falls back into someone behind him. As the domino effect continues, the noise and panic cause the poor Daemos to go into full flight mode. Gritting his teeth, he gathers just enough control to take a flying leap over the top of the completely bewildered mob. He lands back near the bench and grasps it tightly to keep himself from falling to his knees. As he takes a seat once more, the humans are all glancing around and shouting at each other in offense. The child continues crying.

Thoroughly defeated, Leif allows his head to fall back as he slumps down into the wooden comfort. Then, he lifts it back up only to cradle it in his hands. The unwelcome tears brought on by pure fear sting at the corners of his eyes. Releasing a shaky sigh, he finally gives into the thought that he has so far been refusing to voice.

“I’m doomed.”

***

Soaring high above the head of one particularly shaken Daemos, a careless pigeon makes its way around the festival with ease. Drifting aloof above the sea of hundreds of singing and laughing humans, it follows the breeze along the street and down towards one particular block, where a vendor has been handing out pretzels. And at this moment, it just so happens that a young woman, with flowing dark hair and vibrant pink eyes, has just dropped the remaining half of her salted treat on the ground. The pigeon is quick to join several of its other brethren in tearing at the free meal to pieces, completely unaware that shock is what delivered this wonderful treat to them. Although, they learn very soon after, as said young woman lets off a loud, horrified shout. Grey feathers go flying as the band disperses in a threatened rush.

The group of men trailing behind the woman jerk in surprise.

“Princess Ava? What’s wrong?” The youngest, a concerned looking redhead, calls out.

Ava stares at her companions with a feverish look. Pointing at each of them individually, the others can hear her counting them, over and over again.

“One, two, three, four...two, three, four...three, four, four, four! Why are there only four of you!” Her voice raises in both pitch and volume, “Where’s Leif?!”

Her words seem to settle with them all at the exact same time. The tallest of the bunch, Pierce, begins flickering his gaze from face to face, searching for the former-assassin in the horde of people around them. Rhys, Noi, and Asch all turn off in different directions, then come back and share a look. They all focus on Ava, who has turned to the ground with guilt-ridden eyes.

“How could I...he was just with us not too long ago, right? Right?” Her frantic question is only met with uncertain silence from her companions. Rhys goes as far as to look away, nibbling on his ice pop, “Oh God. We have to find him! Leif!”

Ava begins pushing her way through the crowd, crying out to her missing friend. The boys stick to her like frightened ducklings as they mimic her steps. Their screams rise above the swell of music and voices.

“Leif, where are you!”

***

As his friends begin their desperate hunt a few streets away, Leif finds himself aimlessly ambling along through the park. He has discovered that there are less people back within these tree-sheltered pathways and he is grateful for it. He is on the hunt for something, although if he were asked he would not be able to say exactly what. Shelter? Company perhaps? A sign pointing home would be nice, but he can’t really read all that well, and he doubts that there is one around regardless. For a natural-born hunter, he certainly does have an awful sense of direction.

His fingers tap against his thigh as he walks. On occasion, he mumbles curses at himself for getting stuck in this situation. The night sky is clear and bright, and more than once he finds himself staring up at it, feeling as though the stars are laughing at his plight. Gaining a little comfort in the embrace of the shadows, he sticks to them, glancing over every now and again to see a straggling human stroll by. He passes the fountain where he and Ava had encountered the threatening ‘clique’;passes a large stone statue of some long-dead human frozen in time; passes what looks to be a small garden area, where brightly colored flowers glow in the moonlight.

Eventually, Leif reaches an area that he first assumes to be abandoned. The quiet and empty wrap around him like a blanket. His only company seems to be the soft glow from the scattered lampposts. The peace here cradles him in its arms and promises him safety. He’s almost relaxed, resigning to spend the night in whatever tree provides the most cover and warmth, when suddenly-

“Heya there compadre.”

Leif startles back several feet and does a neat little twirl to face the direction of the slow and kindly voice that had called out to him. How he had missed the strange human before him in his first look around is beyond Leif, but he certainly sees the man now. He sits leaning against the nearest tree with an air of remiss and a smile on his face. Upon seeing Leif’s reaction to his greeting, he puts his hands up in reassurance

“Hwoa there! Didn’t mean to startle ya friend. Just couldn’t help but notice that you were lookin’ a tad lost.”

“We’re not friends.” Leif interjects so instinctively that he nearly cuts the stranger off. Then, catching his own tongue before he says anything truly offensive, he reroutes with, “But...yeah, I am lost. I got seperated from my group a while ago and haven’t been able to find them since. And I’m not very familiar with your kingdom yet, so I can’t just go back home.”

Thanks to the poor lighting between them, the Daemos misses how the stranger’s eyebrows quirk a little at his self-correction (and yet not the use of ‘kingdom’?). But as he makes his way over to this new human, Leif does begin to take in the man’s overall messy and unkempt appearance. His long, auburn hair is wrapped up into an extremely makeshift ponytail, the length of which surpasses even that of Pierce’s or Ava’s. The many rebellious strands held back out of his face by a thick, green fabric headband that’s stretched across his forehead. It must have been made to match the long, tassled poncho that he wears, their colors the same. Beneath it, he only seems to have a miserably stained grey shirt, and pants so baggy that Leif can not imagine them being comfortable. His skin, which at first appeared to simply be naturally dark, is actually merely a deceptive tan which highlights every freckle, scar, and wrinkle. Leif is sure that if he were to touch the stranger, he might have an almost leathery feel to him. Teeth no whiter than a well-worn paperback fill in a broad smile that brings to life the creases around the edges of both the stanger’s lips and eyes. Eyes that are brown like a healthy farm soil, and seem to hold a level of spirit and life that Leif can never recall having seen in any other person before. It’s unfiltered blatancy is surprising to him.

“Well ahh, what’cha waitin’ for?” The stranger suddenly picks up the conversation, scooching slightly to the right and patting the ground beside him, “Come’n take a seat. We can vibe while the universe carries the train of life down its long tracks.”

Leif hesitates. The human before him might be a stranger, but he emits an image that reminds the Daemos of the forest spirits that could be found back in his own world. The Earth seems comfortable around him. If one squinted, it would almost seem as though the tree’s trunk and roots had warped to form a throne around him.

“He seems like a powerful sage. I should stay. Maybe he can help me.”

Nodding to himself more so than the man, Leif takes his place on the grass. This results in a wide, toothy grin on behalf of his companion, and being so close now, Leif is able to notice how one of his canines is missing.

“Joyous day! You’ll be the first bit of company I’ve had in a long time my fellow wanderer. Say now, what’s your name?”

“They call me Leif.”

“Leaf? The name of a freelancer. A young man born for travel and change. A soul that dances in the wind, its colors ever uncertain.” The man’s smile softens and his eyes stare off in Leif’s general direction, and yet seem to be staring at something miles away, “You and I, I’m sure we’re the same. I’ve had many a name myself, but most around here know me as Jingle. It’s a pleasure to meet’cha.”

Jingle holds out a hand and they shake. Leif has seen this done enough times on the tee-vee to be able to properly pull it off, even if he doesn’t quite understand the significance. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Jingle proceeds to reach back and pull, from behind the tree, a forgeign looking object.

The thing is clearly made from some kind of light and polished earth wood. Its beige surface has been very delicately carved with a swirling, wave like pattern that decorated almost the entirety of its pear shaped body. A large round hole rests a little ways above the bottom. Stretched taut up its middle and along the long arm protruding from the top are six silver strings, wrapped at both ends around small metal nubs. At the head of the arm are six knobs all turned in various directions. None of the silver pieces shine, and in fact seem quite well worn. Nearly all of the impressive wood surface is riddled with scratches.

Jingle positions the thing against his chest.

“What is that?” Leif asks, eyeing it with unease.

“This here is my trusty guitar Taylor. I know she isn’t much compared to those clunky metal demons they’re selling out there-” Here, he nods his head out in the direction of the still-ongoing festival, “-but she does me just fine. So long as I keep her pretty, she sings like an angel.”

“It...sings?”

“As sweet and humble a tune as you might ever hear. Here, have a listen.”

With his nimble fingers already poised to play, Jingle wastes no time in coaxing a tune out from the air. From the first pluck of a string, Leif finds himself utterly enraptured. Each swift movement of the human’s hand brings forth another new wave of sound so soft and breathtaking that the Daemos doesn’t even know how to process it. It is as if Jingle’s soul is completely in tune with the instrument in his grasp. Leif sits stunned, feeling the music tempt his very heart and bring prickles to his skin. A minute passes, and he soon finds himself lying completely relaxed against the tree trunk, eyes closed, and merely absorbing.

Jingle plays for some time, and for that time the two are in their own universe. It is very dark now, and Leif can feel his mind just starting to slip off in unconsciousness. His body is heavy. Connected to the very grass he sits upon by an unnamable force that he chooses to call exhaustion. When his company eventually brings the song to an end, it takes Leif a few moments to reconnect with reality. Green eyes blink several times, and turn to find that Jingle is already watching for his reaction.

“That was amazing.” Leif breathes in as soft a tone as he’s capable of.

“Jus’ like I told ya. Voice of an angel.” Jingle hums, parroting his earlier words. He shifts to place Taylor on the ground beside him. When he turns back, he finds Leif staring into the space above them with a small frown on his face, “My friend, what troubles you? The world weighs heavy on your shoulders tonight.”

“I’m not sure. I just…” Leif trails off, searching within himself for an explanation for the crushing weight in his chest, “I think I miss my friends. I keep wanting them to be here, but they probably already left. I don’t think they’re coming back for me.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Jingle peers off down the park path. Leif clears his throat in a battle against the tight feeling that fills it. He jumps when a gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

“Lighten your soul wanderer Leif. Everyone leaves sooner or later, but just because they’ve left doesn’t mean they are gone. Pray tell, what doubts whisper in your ear tonight?”

“Eh?”

“Why do you assume so quickly that your friends won’t return to you?”

“Oh. The way you talk is really weird, you know that?”

The human man only smiles at him, patience and expectancy in his eyes. He makes a light gesture with his hand, urging Leif to continue. And after several seconds, he does with a tamed sigh.

“I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I cause more trouble than I’m worth.” The simple admission seems to close a giant force around his ribs. As it squeezes painfully, he finds himself emptying more words than he ever knew he had been filling up with, “I know I tend to go overboard most of the time, but I never- no, I guess just lately- I mean, I haven’t been meaning to cause problems recently. Everything is just so...so calm here, and I don’t know how to live like that. Back on- I mean, back where I’m from, peace and quiet always meant something was wrong, and we hardly go anywhere or do anything, and I just get so bored! I hate just sitting around and doing nothing, but it seems like that’s all the others want to do anymore. And I know I could probably just go out for a while on my own and burn some energy but your world is so big and I just...I don’t want to end up on my own again.”

He gives a forced and pitiful huff of laughter.

“Although I guess it’s too late for that now. I’m sure they probably already went home and forgot about me. They’re probably relieved to get rid of me.”

Leif hadn’t meant to let that flooding fear leak into his words. Or that harsh scratchiness of his throat, which left breaks in his sentences. The uncomfortable rhythm of his heart and the mild shaking must be showing through as well now. It makes no sense to him. He’s only felt this terrified once before- the day they had lost Ava at the Fall Festival. And although the circumstances now are similar, he can not imagine what it is about this strange human that seems to make those insecurities rise up in ten-folds. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the others with him now. Maybe it’s because he really has no idea where to go from here.

The panic had set on him so fast the Leif didn’t properly notice it until it was being chased away by the strong and defendant strums of a guitar. The first twang brought him to a jerking halt at first. But as the singing notes continued, his mind returned to the harmless reality. He came back to find himself looking at the stars.

Jingle- as if noticing Leif’s inner plight- had picked up Taylor once again.

“It is not so easy to forget one’s friends.” He murmurs as he plays, “Do not so swiftly dismiss your own worth my snowy-haired partner. If the universe truly believes you were meant to be with these people you seek, then it will surely guide them back to you. And it sounds to me that affection has already been allowed to roost deep in your soul.”

The younger has nothing to say to that. He only closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and nods. Drawing his knees to his chest, he crosses his arms and lies down his head. All these new emotions are exhausting.

***

Ava slumps down against the frigid stone of the fountain, pulling her knees up and hiding her face in them.

“I can’t believe this.” The muffled moan that escapes her is full of pain, “How could I lose him? What kind of friend am I? God, he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

“I don’t get what you’re so worried about.” Asch harrumphs, doing a single lap around the structure before taking a seat on its edge, “We haven’t encountered anything dangerous since we’ve been here on Earth. Leif can take care of himself for one night. Why can’t we just go home? It’s cold out here and I’m tired!”

Despite his childish whining, he at least has the decency to look sheepish when she turns to glare at him.

“Well if that’s the case Asch, why don’t we just leave you out here tonight? You’re always going on about how you’re so much better than Leif anyways, so if he can make it out here on his own, then clearly you can too.” During her short reprimand, Ava stands and crosses the few steps between them. Her eyes hold a level of rage that the Daemos can never recall having seen on her before. And despite the fact that he could easily beat her in a confrontation- physical or verbal- he feels himself shrinking in shame before her petite frame.

With a satisfied huff, Ava walks several paces away. In the short time it takes her to regain her composure, her anger morphs instantly into guilt. Her posture slumps as she glances back at Asch, whose hurt expression is turned towards the concrete.

“I’m...I’m sorry Asch.” She sighs, “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” Comes the humbled response from behind her.

“I’m just really worried about him.”

“I know.”

The next few minutes are shared in silence. The other three Daemos choose not to express a word on the exchange just yet, only shuffling about in their own thoughts. There is a level of complete loss between them. No one wants to leave Leif behind-- but Asch isn’t the only one whose focus and determination is beginning to wane.

A particularly nippy breeze blows through, causing Ava’s already shaking body to jitter violently. In a second Pierce seems to simply materialize beside her and pull her sniffling form into a warming embrace.

“Perhaps Prince Asch is right. We should go for now.” He suggests quietly as she leans into him.

“But Leif-”

“-Will be easier to find tomorrow when it is light out.” Rhys jumps in, “We are all concerned Princess Ava, but Asch does have a point. It is unlikely that Leif has found himself in any sort of real danger, and even if he has, he is a trained warrior. None of us are suggesting we abandon our search completely, but we are all at our limits. Even if we were to find Leif tonight, at this rate we may all end up sick by the morning. Please, we will follow you no matter your choice, but think reasonably.”

There’s a gentle hint of pleading in his voice that prevents Ava from denying his claims outright. She looks between all of them in turn, searching desperately for some counterargument that never comes to rise. It doesn’t take long before she finally lets herself really take in the heaviness of her own body; the stinging left in her feet from walking for so long; the need to close her eyes and rest that is becoming harder and harder to fight away. The boys watch with patience as her mind wears itself down, and they don’t miss the surrender that wins over her stature. There’s a quiet breath, then:

“...fine. Let’s just go home.”

Dear reader, have you ever managed to convince someone you love to do something they don’t want to, only to be hit with a horrible wave of guilt when they give in and agree to go through with it? Have you ever wished you could travel back in time just a few minutes, if only to stop yourself from being so damn persistent? If so, then maybe you can imagine how the Daemos boys feel at this point in time. The deep disappointment they observe in Ava’s eyes as she pulls herself from Pierce’s arms is enough to make their very souls wince. Three sets of eyes meet as their minds change almost unanimously, and Rhys can tell the other two are waiting for him to come up with some sort of clever escape. And being the man he is, he complies.

“Well, ah-just a moment Princess Ava. We...we haven’t heard from Noi yet! A decision such as this should be agreed upon by everyone present, yes? And perhaps if he believes we should stay out. Noi?”

Rhys shifts, hoping to prompt Noi into insisting that they stay. But the younger Daemos- who has been noticeably absent from the entire conversation- doesn’t appear to have even noticed his name being called. In fact, he likely missed the discussion as a whole, seeing as how he stares off down one of the darkness-swallowed paths with fully focused attention. His amber eyes sparkle with wonder. In listening closely, one may have heard him humming.

Debate temporarily forgotten, Ava and the rest focus on him with quirked eyebrows and tilted heads.

“Uhh...Noi?” Asch beacons tentatively.

“Do you hear it?” Noi whispers in response, to all of them and yet no one in particular.

“Hear what?” Ava asks, frowning, “I don’t hear anything.”

Pierce steps forward and rests his chin atop her head.

“I hear it.”

“Me too.” Asch adds after a moment.

“Me as well.”

“Wait, seriously, what are you guys hearing? It’s just quiet for me.”

“It’s music.” Rhys says, “Different from what the humans at the festival were playing. It’s quieter.”

“Softer.” Pierce adds, and the scholar nods.

“Earlier there were voices too.” Noi finishes.

“Wait, voices? But who else would be out this la-” Ava’s eyes spark up wide. Before the guys can even hit the same realization she has, she’s already gone; taking off with flying feet and a new swarm of adrenaline buzzing through her veins. “LEIF!”

“Princess Ava!” A chorus of Daemos voices rise up through the night, and they sprint, one after the other, along her trail. Her voice bounces off the surveying trees.

“Leif!”

***

“Leif!”

Two men sitting beneath a canvas on moonlit leaves jerk their heads up in unison. The elder lowers his guitar and puts on a muted, knowing smile. The younger goes tense as he strains his ears for the echoes of the voice that had rushed at them in the night. His green eyes go wide as can be, quite literally glowing with hope. He places one, prepared hand on the ground…

“Leif!”

Springing to his feet faster than should be natural, he runs only a few paces forward.

“Ava?” He breathes. The sound of rushing feet pouding closer out of the darkness causes him to gasp and with the new air in his lungs he shouts out, “Ava! Ava, I’m here!”

Leif steps into the light just as his human friend barges into its threshold. He’s tossed off his already imbalanced feet as she tumbles with a football-tackle force into him. They go down together onto the rocky ground. Ava clings desperately to his shirt, as if afraid he will vanish into thin air at the impact. Before either have fully taken to their jarring landing, he finds her burying her face into his neck, sobbing almost hysterically with relief. Her sporadic hiccups seem to be contagious, and for the first time since quite possibly his toddler days, he finds himself holding onto another person like a lifeline and shedding tears that he hardly cares if others see.

“I’m so sorry.” Ava manages through uncontrollable gasps, “I’m so, so sorry Leif.-”

“It wasn’t your fault, I’m-”

“-I didn’t mean to leave you. I just turned around and you were gone and-”

“-the one who walked off. I’m an idiot for thinking-”

“-we looked everywhere for you! We almost went home-

“-I got so lost without you-”

“-I didn’t want to, but Noi heard you and I’m just-”

“-I’m just-”

“-So happy you’re back.”

The unorganized scrambling over each other’s apologies ends with synchronization. Still sniffling, Ava lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his gaze. There’s a pause. Then broad, toothy smiles replace quivering frowns, and their foreheads press together as they share a laugh.

It’s around this time that the other four Daemos reach their position, only to find their newly reunited friends on the ground, trying to hold back bursts of giggles. The picture absolutely throws them. More so because of Leif’s bubbly demeanor than Ava’s, though both are certainly a sight to behold-- with tousled hair and dusty clothes, goosebump rippled skin now detailed with red marks where they had slid against the concrete. And yet the two grin and carry on in that way that can only be done after one’s stress-forced sense has left them, their cares evaporating into thin air. Earth truly must be turning them soft, because the once strict and stone-cold warriors- upon surveying the scene- give genuine smiles of their own.

It takes a little bit of time before the pair actually settle down enough to sort themselves out and stand once again. Even then, Ava makes sure to link her arm with his, swearing inwardly to never let him out of her sights again. Leif on the other hand, does his best to recollect himself, not wanting to give the others any more reason to pester him later about the blatant displays of emotion. He hides his flushed face in his sleeve, pretending to wipe a smear of dirt off his face.

‘It’s nice to see you again.” Rhys says with only a hint of scolding behind his words, “Though if you ever run off like that again, you’re finding your own way home.”

“That’s fair.” Leif replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t miss how Ava studies his reaction from the corner of her eye.

“Did you miiiss us?” Asch drawls mockingly, stepping forward with a smirk on his face. Despite the remark, he gives Leif a friendly knock on the shoulder- a habit he’d unknowingly picked up a few weeks ago.

Leif only scoffs, but it tells them all they really need to know. He looks downwards briefly and mumbles something that only the young Prince seems able to hear. Asch blinks in recoil, then replaces his cheeky grin.

“What was that?” He asks incentively, “I don’t think we all heard you.”

Leif growls a low growl.

“I said-ugh-thanks for...looking for me.” Then, adding on more softly, “It’s nice to know you guys actually cared enough to find me.”

“Well duh.” Ava’s response causes him to lift his head in her direction, “I made you a promise didn’t I?”

His mind flashes back to that day they were shopping for decorations. He’d almost convinced himself it was a dream.

“Yeah. I guess you did.”

“Besides-!” Suddenly, Noi appears in front of him, beaming in the friendly boyish way that used to get him mocked back on Daemos, “You’re one of us! No man left behind, right?”

“I-”

“Exactly.” Rhys cuts him off in affirmation, “Despite your chaotic personality and violent tendencies, you are still an important part of our group.”

“You-”

“Yeah.” Asch sighs, carefully selecting his next few words, “I’m not sure where we’d be without our healer honestly. And...I will admit that you’re the only one here who’s any fun to spar with.”

“Yes.” Finally, Pierce, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

As Leif gapes at all of his friends in turn, something new solidifies within him. See, when Asch had saved him from execution all those years ago, the Prince had earned his life. And with that, over time, there came undying loyalty. But it was always saved for Asch alone. The others had been tolerable companions at most, at least until they got to Earth.

Then came along Ava, who unintentionally became their focal point. She was important to him- to all of them. But he wouldn’t have died for her. Not at the start. That problem arose when she became fond of them, and they- in turn- of her. It only took a couple weeks after Leif had admitted to himself that she was actually rather preferable company, that he seemed to swear away to her the same things he had gifted Asch. His life. His loyalty. Fresh off the line went his affection as well. And although at this point, he was close to the other Daemos, he still felt separate. A product of his own mind and the upbringing that was so very different from their own.

It’s taken until now for that last link to click into place. That camaraderie which he’d been lacking now swarms through his morals and rearranges itself among those mental pieces. He feels some of his outlooks shifting. Most importantly, a single, powerful thought plants itself in his mind and takes root.

“They want me.”

His chest swelling, the most Leif can manage is, “Thank you.”

The sound of quiet shuffling a few feet away accidentally breaks through the touching moment. The emotional bunch all turn their attention to a man standing like a startled cat beneath a nearby tree. Clearly, he had meant to scuttle away unnoticed.

“Who is he?” Noi asks.

“Oh that’s Jingle.” Leif tips his head in the direction of the musical man, who has gathered his meager belongings in his arms. At the mention of his name, he winces slightly and gives a wave, “He’s been letting me sit with him. He's pretty cool for a human. The way he talks is weird though.”

Now, Ava, the Earth and city specialist of the group, immediately recognizes Leif’s apparent companion as a member of a nomadic homeless community that had just taken its annual place in one of the far back corners of the park. She’d never spoken to the man in true conversation, but she can recall exchanging a few words with him last year after she’d heard him playing the exact same guitar he now cradles to his chest. He had an impressive talent that convinced her to deliver him several dollar bills and whatever meager change she managed to hold onto after her sparse commutes to the mall or grocery store. She can vouch for the fact that he does say some fairly strange things on occasion. However…

“Hey, you’re that chill guitar man I met last year.” She says, hoping to spark some comfort in his cautious air, “Have you really been hanging out with Leif this whole time?”

Jingle nods, shifting into a more permanent stance.

“You didn’t have to do that. But I’m thankful that you did.” She smiles warmly, “Honestly, I was worried he might have gotten himself into trouble.”

“It was no problem young miss.” Jingle makes the effort to reply, “I’d seen you all together early in the day, and happened to catch my fellow wanderer out on his own. He looked like he could use someone to hold him steady until his world righted itself again.”

“Ah...yeah. I don’t doubt that he did.” Digging into her pockets, Ava pulls out five dollars- the sole remnants of cash that was pretty much all spent on food, “Here, please take this. It isn’t nearly as much as you deserve, but it’s all I have.”

The older human steps forward to accept the money from her outstretched hand with a grateful expression. Immediately after pocketing it, he spins back around in the other direction and walks away into the night. Ava silently determines to continue her tradition from before if she can manage to find him again in the coming weeks. But before any of that-

“Come on you guys. Let’s get home.”

#aphmau my inner demons #aphmau mid #mid ava #mid leif #mid noi #mid asch #mid rhys #mid pierce #mid fanfiction #aphmau fanfiction #there's also a sort of OC in this one #Which is really just a humanized version of Jingle from Hamtaro #because #a- childhood #and b- he was exactly the type of character I wanted for this fic #there's also a hint of dance man from Wandersong in him as well #please forgive me #I just live for vibing nomad characters #Thank you all for reading!

51 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

May Flowers (Two)

PART ONE HERE

Original Broken Wings Masterlist HERE

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

“You know Phil, just once I’d like you to call me on my birthday to actually wish me a Happy Birthday.” Tony grinned into the phone over Phil’s exaggeratedly put upon response. “No no Phil, you’re not listening. I’m not saying I won’t help design new repulsor style engines for your planes I’m saying…”

The Alpha paused partway down the hall, paused and craned his neck to peek into Bucky’s bedroom when he heard his mate and his daughter laughing. “... I’m saying you could wish me Happy Birthday first and then ask me to design a new engine for SHIELD. Yes, my birthday is tomorrow but I’d still like to hear it today, is that asking so much?”

Whatever Phil said next was ignored as the Alpha propped up against Bucky’s door frame and watched for a moment. “Uh huh.” Tony finally said absentmindedly. “Uh huh. Okay, thanks Phil. We’ll talk to you later I uh-- I got to go. Yep. Bye.”

He hung up and put his phone away, then folded his arms and let his eyes flicker red and warm over his Omega’s frame. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Push ups.” Bucky wasn’t even breaking a sweat, not even breathing hard as he powered through push up after push up, Maria strapped to his back in one of those baby carriers and giggling herself half to death over each up and down, little hands flailing out to try and catch the silky feathers closest to the Omega’s shoulder blades. “What are you doing, Alpha?”

“Watching.” Tony let his voice roughen to a rumble and Bucky glanced up from beneath a fringe of dark hair to smile knowingly at his Alpha. “You look good, Buck. Pretty Omega.”

“Feeling good.” Bucky tucked his left arm behind his back and switched to one armed push ups, shoulders and biceps straining through every motion. “Back to feeling like myself. Feeling like I’m due for a heat in a few weeks.”

“Oh.” Tony’s gorgeous wings flared up before he could help it, a growl breaking from his chest and Maria’s eyes went very wide at the unexpected noise from her Papa. “Bucky.”

It had been almost two years now since Bucky’s last heat and since Maria had been the result of those few days together, the resulting pregnancy and post partum months had been brutal enough to cancel anything except for general cuddling. Bucky hadn’t had the mental and emotional energy for more than just being held and Tony hadn’t pushed in the slightest, had contented himself with forehead kisses and holding his mate when Bucky needed to cry but now Maria was ten months old and if Bucky felt like a heat was coming on...

“Alpha.” Bucky panted when Alpha hormones hit the room hot and heavy and halfway to desperate. “Yes.”

“My mate.” Tony growled all over again and Bucky sat up on his knees to spread his pretty wings and bare his neck. “Bucky, we should--”

“Bucky?” Loki stumbled onto the scene unexpectedly, looking for Bucky and Maria for lunch and their wings snapped open helplessly wide when they scented aroused Alpha. “Oh, am I interrupting something? Sorry, I’ll just-- oh.”

The Omega’s feathers shocked brilliant silver when they saw Bucky stripped down to just shorts, muscles on full display and scent cloaking in want and Loki was suddenly speechless. “James.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Tony slanted a look of undisguised interest towards Loki, red eyes darkening further as he blatantly admired the bright silver wings. “Pretty Omegas, both of you.”

“I um--” Loki swallowed hard, clenched their fists against the urge to reach out and touch. Whether they would reach for their Omega partner who was simply gorgeous half undressed or reach for the Alpha who was close enough to scent and feel and wouldn’t ever turn Loki down for anything-- well that was a good question. “I-- I--”

“Lo.” Bucky murmured and the moment stretched tense and sharp--

--and was broken by Maria’s excited coo at seeing her favorite person besides her Papas.

“I’ve-- I’ve got her.” Shaken from their trance, Loki hurried to unhook Maria from Bucky’s back, let their feathers brush just lightly over the other Omega’s skin before they calmed to their usual glossy black, green and silver primaries. “I’ll take her for a snack and you can finish-- you and Anthony can finish--”

The usual stoic demigod was stammering over their words, nearly tripping over their feet as they backpedaled from the room and once the door was shut again Bucky jumped up and stretched his arms and wings wide so his Alpha could look for a minute.

“Couple weeks?” Tony asked softly. He didn’t want to wait that long, he wanted to pin Bucky to the floor right then and there and bury his teeth in the Omega’s neck, his knot deep in the Omega’s core until Bucky was screaming for him.

No, the Alpha didn’t want to wait but heat would make everything easier, erase some of the lingering doubt in Bucky’s mind about how well his body had recovered, would make things less about being back together and more about coming together, leaving plenty of time for all the softness afterwards, gasped love confessions and growled reassurances over and over into the Omega’s ear.

“That’s all we gotta wait, sweetheart?”

“That’s all we gotta wait.” Bucky saw the acceptance of waiting for what it was, and trilled gratefully at his Alpha. “A couple weeks. I’ll be ready for you, Alpha.”

“I love you.” Tony didn’t hesitate to gather the Omega close, running his fingers into Bucky’s long hair and tugging at the strands gently. Bucky was big but he melted beneath his Alpha’s touch, curling his shoulders and wings to be submissive and sweet for his mate. “Pretty Omega, such a sweet pretty thing. Love you.”

“I love you too.” Bucky tipped his head and purred when the Alpha nipped lightly at his bonding spot. “Alpha. You should go find Loki.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cos I was brave enough to come down to the lab to find you when I wanted you.” the Omega whispered. “But Loki isn’t.”

Tony only smiled and kissed his Omega one more time before squeezing at Bucky’s waist and leaning away. “You’re gorgeous, my mate. I’ll see you at dinner, kay?”

“Kay.”

Tony whistled to himself as he left the room and headed on his way to the lab again, curious to see whatever it was Bruce had planned that was making Thor practically giddy with excitement every time the blond Alpha turned his way. Half of Tony hoped it was something else for Steve and the new baby but the other part of him was ridiculously excited for a birthday present.

Bruce always gave the best birthday presents.

A flash of something frosty and sugary sweet in the air and Tony paused, wings lifting curiously as he scanned the hallway and saw no one there.

Hm.

As soon as he’d passed again Loki brought themselves and Maria back into view, extricating their pinky from Maria’s mouth where they’d used it as an impromptu pacifier to keep the baby quiet.

Heart pounding, feathers flickering from silver and green and back to black again, Loki wet their lips anxiously and tried to calm their breathing.

Bucky had been brave enough to go and find the Alpha when he was ready for more, but Loki wasn’t half that brave. Six months of family and home hadn’t erased centuries of feeling misplaced or cast out and Loki didn’t know if they’d ever be able to take that step forward with Anthony.

They could only hope the Alpha would take the step for them.

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

“Tony tells me he’s thinking about getting his arc reactor taken out.” Colonel James Rhodes had a wing span that rivaled even Thor’s, the feathers a deep navy blue that looked gorgeous and protective where they curled around Pepper’s tiny frame, dwarfing her pale pink wings beneath his spread. “But I thought we talked about it before and there’s no way to do it with actually killing him.”

“Let’s uh--” Bruce’s eyes flickered jade and Rhodey tensed. “Let’s not even talk about our Alpha doing anything even close to dying. I can’t talk about that.”

“I don’t like it either.” Wanda’s fingers lit red around her tea cup as she sipped at it. “But I think the last time Tony and the Colonel spoke about such a thing was before we had considered all of our options.”

“All our options.” Pepper repeated. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that I have been working very hard on my control.” Wanda whispered, and even Bruce jumped when the delicate china shattered in the girls hands, the pieces broken into nearly dust while the hot liquid stayed suspended in the air. “And I think so long as a dedicated surgeon can open Tony up, I myself can remove the pieces of shrapnel near his heart. It would be a beautiful present for the family Alpha, don’t you think? A healed heart?”

“Wanda…” Rhodey started but Wanda’s eyes snapped bright red before he could finish, and the cup reassembled itself in a blink of an eye, the liquid trickling down slowly to fill the rebuilt cup and settling back on the table without spilling a drop.

“You know what?” the Colonel held up both hands. “Comment withdrawn. That was impressive as hell.”

“Wanda, how did you do that?” Bruce gaped at the tea cup, his expression a mirror of Pepper’s own wide mouthed shock. “Your powers--”

“The older I get the more use I am finding for this--” Wanda hesitated, twirling the red through her fingers idly. “--This gift. Pietro’s seems to be only speed and the ability to heal faster than I can but every year my own powers take a leap forward. I mean to ask Tony to build me a safe place to experiment with them, but I think the issue of his reactor and heart is more important at the moment.”

“Our Alpha has mentioned at least twice in the last month how much he enjoys Thor being here at the compound.” Pepper spoke up, the pretty Omega leaning back further into James’s arms. “He hasn’t taken the suit out since we learned Steve was expecting, and now that Thor is helping lead the team, Tony feels as if he doesn’t need to keep such a strict eye on everything. He can stay home and not worry about our family out there when an actual god is heading the charge.”

“Tony needs to rest.” Rhodey said flatly and Pepper murmured in agreement. “He needs to be home with Maria and the newest baby and all his Omegas. Home when Wanda and Pietro are here, home to keep you company, Bruce. The last thing I want is my crazy friend out there running around in a damn robot.”

“I agree.” Bruce nodded slowly. “I don’t want Tony out there either. But we both know our Alpha won’t stop until he feels like he doesn’t have to do it anymore.”

“I think freeing him from the burden of his arc reactor will speed that along.” Wanda decided out loud. “He didn’t have a choice about the device when he came home from Afghanistan and he felt it was his duty to right the wrongs Stane enacted. But Stane is long dead--”

Bruce growled, green climbing his neck at an alarming rate and James cut anxious eyes at the Doctor.

“-- and our family has grown so much. Tony deserves the rest and he deserves the happiness and peace that comes with being home.” she finished. “And if he says yes…”

“I’m scared.” Pepper was the one to say it, but it was reflected in each of their eyes. “It was hard enough to see Tony come home with that thing. It glows and it hums and I know Maria snuggles in over it and thinks it’s Tony’s heart beat but I’m scared of it… and I’m scared to take it out.”

“We won’t do anything until we have a plan.” Bruce said firmly. “I’m not a surgeon but I know a very good one, best hands in the business. I can take care of everything except the actual surgery, Wanda you can do the extraction and we could even ask Loki to help with putting our Alpha back together. We can do it.”

“... I’ll miss seeing Maria smile when she touches the blue in Tony’s chest.” Rhodey admitted and Pepper smiled, “Nothing will ever change how that baby smiles when her Daddy holds her. Arc reactor or not.”

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

Tony was about to be late to his own birthday dinner but he stopped in the hall mirror anyway to brush down the soft gray of his suit jacket, to artfully adjust the fall of his hair and shake his feathers a little looser so the bronzed primaries caught the light just perfect and when Clint passed behind him and whistled in quiet appreciation, the Alpha reached out and snagged his Omega by the wrist.

“Alpha?” Clint raised his eyebrows curiously but didn’t protest when the Alpha yanked him up close and swept huge wings up to cover them both in a wall of feathers. “What’s on your mind?”

“One guess.” Tony shoved his nose into Clint’s neck and breathed in deep of his mate’s scent, then scraped his teeth over the bonding mark and flattened his palm to the Omega’s stomach. “Can we tell anyone yet, or do you want to keep it a secret a little longer? Cos telling everyone would make me a really great birthday present.”

“Keep what a secret?” Too intent on enjoying the feel of his Alpha pressed up against him, the line of Tony’s cock already stiffening against his thigh, Clint missed the pointed question from his mate. “What are we telling people?”

“About the baby.” Tony breathed into the Omega’s ear, a possessive hand at the back of Clint’s neck as a bolt of mine rolled up his spine and out into a rough growl. “When can we tell our family? I want twins. One of each. A sister for Maria and a brother for Steve’s boy.”

“T-twins.” Clint repeated. “Alpha--”

“You think I can’t smell it on you?” Tony dropped to his knees right there in the hallway, feathers wrapped protectively around the Omega as he rumbled and nuzzled into Clint’s navel. “The second your heat ended, I could tell sweetheart. I figured that’s why you were so tired, so moody, why you were worried about being older than the other Omegas and not being able to keep up.”

“I--I--I--” Clint’s own wings hung limp, his eyes still wide with shock. “Tony, I was moody and tired cos I’m in my early forties! I was upset cos Bucky and Steve got knocked up no problem and I-- I couldn’t. We’ve shared lots of heats together and it never happened but Bucky was a first shot and Steve was right after and I thought--”

“-- you thought I’d trade you in for a younger model or something else like that.” Tony finished, iron scent dimming in sadness for his mate. “Clint, why would you ever think that? Don’t you know how much I love you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But every Omega you bring home is prettier than the last.” Clint whispered. “Steve is stunning and Bucky has so many muscles it sorta makes me wanna cry. Pepper is-- well she’s Pepper. And Loki? Are you kidding me? I’m not anything close to super powered or even weirdly scary like Tasha, I’m just normal and I--”

“--I want twins.” Tony interrupted and stood back up to lay a searing kiss on his mate’s lips. “And I want them to look exactly like you. I want them both to everything incredible about you. Blue eyes and all this hair and your gorgeous smile and sarcasm and I want the boy to be hilarious and the girl to be bratty and bossy and I’m going to build a huge nursery and a swing set in the yard cos we’ll have four kiddos to play on it and--”

“Alpha.” Clint finally blushed, finally put his own hand over where Tony’s rested on his stomach. “You’re sure? Cos I don’t feel any different.”

“I know every inch of you, baby.” Tony’s eyes shaded red with open affection, his soft growl adoring. “Every single inch. Of course I’m sure.”

“Let’s not tell anyone yet.” Clint decided in a hushed tone. “Give it a little longer to make sure everything is alright?”

“Whatever you want.” The Alpha kissed him again. “Might work out anyway, with Steve so close. One at a time, right?”

“One at a time.” Clint agreed, and then with a smile that was just for his mate. “Or maybe two.”

And Tony rumbled in pure agreement and joy. “Maybe two.”

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

“Pretty Omega.” Sam opened his red wings wide in welcome and approval when he bent to kiss Bucky at the dinner table.

“Pretty Omega.” he moved on to Steve and trilled over the Omega’s stomach.

“Pretty Omega.” Sam nuzzled at Pepper who only huffed and pushed him away. “Natasha.” the redhead grinned and kissed him sweetly. “Pretty Omega.” a lighter but no less sweet kiss on the top of Loki’s head. “Hold on I need chapstick if I’m going to keep this up.”

Everyone laughed when the Beta pulled out a comically large tube of chapstick and applied it liberally. “Now where was I?”

“No need for kisses, Samuel!” Thor boomed and Bruce held up his hands apologetically as well. “Simply serve the food and let us feast!”

“Well then here’s one last one.” Sam’s kiss for Clint was longer than the others, his hands gentle when they smoothed over the Omega’s waist. “Pretty Omega, how are you?”

“You are wearing a lot of strawberry chapstick.” Clint wiped at his lips and the room fell into laughter all over again. “But thank you, I’m fine.”

“And expecting!” Thor again, loud and excited and this time the room went very very still, all eyes turned towards Clint and towards Tony who came through the door with wings and arms wide--

--and stopped in confusion when everyone stared at him.

“...yes?” the Alpha asked slowly, shifting into a defensive position as his eyes darted around the room trying to catalogue a potential danger, his fingers tapping idly at the watch that hid one of his gauntlets. In a split second Tony could destroy anyone who wanted to threaten his family and he was more than ready to--

“You’re pregnant?!” Natasha screeched and then the Beta flung herself at the Omega in a flurry of feathers, followed closely by an also shrieking Wanda and a more composed but still grinning Pietro.

“Wait!” Clint laughed over the wall of hugs and swiveled to try and catch his Alpha’s eye. “I thought we weren’t telling anyone yet!”

Tony spread his hands helplessly and Thor decided, “Twas entirely too obvious, Omega! You smell delicious! As perfectly decadent as only an expecting Omega can!”

“I think what my brother means is that Clint scents sweeter than his usual cherry blooms.” Loki said calmly, their fingers wound tight through Bucky’s palm. “I noticed it as well but assumed you were keeping it a secret.”

“We were keeping it a secret!” The Omega protested, and Bucky pressed at Loki’s palm before calling, “Makes sense why he ate half a cake yesterday!”

“Nah, Clint puts away half a cake on a good day.” Sam patiently waited for the twins to let go of Clint before sweeping the Omega back into a long hug. “That’s not a symptom.”

“He threw up after broccoli at lunch.” Pepper pointed out and even Bruce pulled a face and muttered, “Anyone would throw up after broccoli.”

It took Steve a good minute and a half plus a helping hand from Thor to get out of his chair, but the blond pulled Clint in as close as he could manage and kissed him sweetly, years of shared moments together making this particular moment all the more beautiful. “So happy for you, Clint.”

“I guess I’m pretty happy for me too.” Clint kissed the Omega right back, long enough that Loki leaned over and elbowed Thor to hiss, “Careful, brother. You must not be treating your Steven well if he is so quick to turn back to an Omega’s charms.”

“I will fry your hair with lightning.” Thor threatened solemnly and the Omega only grinned and budged closer to Bucky’s side.

“Well.” Tony finally banged on the table and raised his glass so everyone would stop talking and turn to look. “I um--” the Alpha’s grin stretched goofy. “I feel like I should make a speech but all I really want to say is Happy birthday to me. This is the best one yet.”

“Happy birthday!” Rhodey whooped and the dining room erupted into cheers and congratulations, everyone making the rounds to kiss Clint and pat at his belly and then to hug their Alpha.

“It’s gonna be a boy.” Pietro said confidently. “We can name him Peter. That’s a great name.”

“It’s a girl and we’ll name her Antonia.” Wanda disagreed and immediately an argument started over the best baby names and whether or not the family needed more boys or girls and Clint just snuggled in to the other Omegas and listened to it all with a pleased grin on his face.

Tony caught his gaze over the crowd and grinned, winked and mouthed, “Twins.” and the party continued on with everyone noticing but no one commenting on the happy tears in their Alpha’s eyes.

Later, after most of the food had been eaten and a truly shocking amount of cake had been consumed, after presents had been handed out and appropriately ooh’ed and ahhh’ed over, Thor came to Tony and spread his golden wings wide in a loving gesture then dropped them and put a hand over his heart in a show of submission and respect for the family Alpha.

“Anthony. You are beautiful with the jewels around your neck. Stunning, even. Every bit the royal prince the jewelry was crafted for.

“Thor.” Tony touched the heavy necklace the demi god had given him, then stretched up onto his toes to kiss the other Alpha rumbling in response to Thor’s eager grasp at his waist. “The present is too much, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give it back. I love the jewelry and I love you. And after everyone goes to bed tonight, I’d like to speak to you.”

“Alpha.” Thor hummed in pleasure when Tony’s hands skated up his abdomen to his chest and he returned the gesture by placing a heavy, careful hand over Tony’s heart, spreading his fingers wide to completely block out the glow of the arc reactor. “I know what you wish to speak of, and I want you to know I am ready.”

“Thor--”

“You want me to lead our team on the battlefield.” the demi god murmured. “Want me to protect our Steve and the others in the fight so you can stay home with the children and the more vulnerable of our family. You deserve the rest, Alpha. You deserve the peace. Allow me to take the mantle of responsibility.”

“You knew I was going to ask.” Tony swallowed hard and leaned into the weight of Thor’s palm. “You don’t think I am weak for wanting something softer than a battle every week?”

“I think I am humbled you would consider me to protect those you love the most.” The other Alpha stated solemnly. “I think I am honored you have brought not only myself but my sibling into your home and given us your trust and your love.”

Tony’s eyes sparked red and Thor let his flash with lightning in answer. “I consider this a sacred duty and I will carry it out with my every fiber of my being.”

“Thank you.” Another kiss, this one longer until both Alphas were gasping into the other’s mouth and their feathers were mingling as their wings lifted. “Thor.”

“I would have you tonight if I thought your Omegas would let you out of bed.” Thor teased and Tony laughed softly. “You and your beautiful wings and these jewels. Perhaps a flower or two.” The Alpha produced a delicate lily and tucked it behind Tony’s ear. “There you are. Exquisite.”

“I’m temped, but you’re right.” Tony agreed. “On my birthday and with Clint’s news my Omegas won’t let me out of bed, not tonight.”

“One more thing, beloved.” Thor turned Tony’s palm over and kissed it gently. “You should know that despite my assurances to Frigga that Steven’s child is yours and not mine, the Queen has decided her presence as a healer and witch is necessary on Midgard to be sure the child is delivered with no trouble.”

“Frigga.” Tony repeated. “The Queen Mother of Asgard and wife of Odin wants to come to Earth to see my son born?”

“Aye.” Thor hesitated. “And she will not travel without a bodyguard so I am afraid we will have the presence of a Valkyrie to deal with as well.”

The Alpha’s wings snapped open, scent jolting with excitement. “A Valkyrie.” Tony hissed. “A Valkyrie will come here?”

“Aye.” Thor said again, and then gravely, “You will have to hide the mead, do you understand? No one in the realms can out drink a Valkyrie and she is utterly obnoxious after imbibing. You’ll have to hide the Omegas, particularly Clint for she will take one look at your Omega and want him as her own. She prefers darker hair to light so Steven will most likely be safe, but she will take your Bucky into the ring for a fight immediately, then try to kiss him immediately after. Be warned, Anthony.”

“A Valkyrie.” Tony’s eyes were still shining. “I cannot wait.”

“Anthony. Did you hear my warning about your mates?”

“Thor.” the Alpha kept smiling. “My Omegas are welcome to love who they want, so long as they love me too at the end of the day. I am welcome to love who I want--”

“Anthony! Not a Valkyrie! She will eat you for supper!”

“--exciting.”

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

Natasha’s present moved their Alpha to tears just as she’d predicted, but Tony’s eyes weren’t the only one wet when the beautiful Beta handed over a exquisitely bound book of poetry all written by Maria Carbonell Stark.

It had taken Natasha months to hunt down scraps of paper and old notebooks full of Maria’s poetry, months longer to scan everything into the computer to preserve Maria’s actual handwriting. Then she’d had it printed and bound in soft blue leather, the pages professionally yellowed to appear aged, the printed ink a delicate and spindly ink that lent personality to the carefully scripted words.

Maria Carbonell had written poetry for every part of her life, words flowing effortlessly as she created verse for everything from meeting and falling in love with the Alpha Howard Stark to the birth of their only child, Tony, and the Alpha cried as he held the baby Maria in one hand and the book in the other.

“Tasha--”

Natasha kissed her Alpha very very gently before backing up and settling onto the floor alongside Sam and the rest of their family, and motioned, “Read, Alpha.”

“Your Grammy wrote this poem.” The Alpha cleared his throat and whispered into Maria’s soft curls, kissing the baby’s temple before turning to the first page and starting to read aloud stanzas of youth and wonder and the aching tenderness of the first blush of love.

Bucky sat at Tony’s feet so he could rest his head on his Alpha’s knee, Steve sat at the Alpha’s side so Tony could read directly to the soon-to-arrive baby as well and Clint curled into Tony’s other side so he could pat at Maria’s back absentmindedly and stay close. The Omega had a pile of hawthorn and lily of the valleys laying on his stomach, the petals scattered across his skin and Thor grinned in broad approval when Clint absentmindedly played with the flowers.

Pretty Omegas deserved pretty flowers and expecting Omegas deserved flowers of blessings, and Thor was pleased to be the one to offer them to his family.

Loki stood at the door and simply watched, green eyes flashing silver as they took in the entire family, the love soaking the room and the aura of contentment. How badly they ached to be part of such a thing, how badly they wished they were brave enough to simply go to the Alpha and curl into the spot next to Bucky feel the open adoration soft against their skin.

How badly they wished and yet--

Tony glanced up and smiled when he saw Loki, inclined his head down pointedly to the spot where there was room, and went back to reading, his voice low and soothing, his scent calm and sweet.

Loki was welcome, if they wanted.

And mid line, mid paragraph about the simply joy found in flowers, in sunshine and even in healing rains, Steve put his hand to his stomach and decided, “James.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Tony asked and the Omega repeated, “James. That’s the baby’s name. After my best friend and after yours. James Anthony Stark, and we can call him Jimmy.”

Bucky grinned, tips of his wings rustling in happiness and across the room Rhodey squeezed Pepper into a tight hug, his own smile bordering on ecstatic knowing one of Tony’s children would carry his name.

“James Anthony Stark.” Tony tested the name out on his tongue then trilled approvingly at his mate. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

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

Understandably, Steve was the first to fall asleep though Clint wasn’t far behind, and then the twins faded after that. Natasha dropped off in Sam’s arms, Pepper hid her yawns in James’s blue feathers and Bucky lolled his head back to rest on Tony’s leg and closed his eyes. Bruce inched over just barely enough to lean into Thor’s side, and baby Maria snored away soundly on Tony’s chest.

Rhodey was the last one to fall asleep and he waited until Tony had read the very last poem in the book before clearing his throat and whispering, “Happy birthday, Tones.”

The other Alpha’s smile was so happy that it took the Colonel’s breath away and as Tony carefully extricated himself and Maria from the tangle of limbs he whispered back, “Happy birthday to me.”

Maria went down into her crib without a fuss and Tony stayed bent over the baby’s bed for a long minute, wings up and over to block out the too bright gleam of the moon as he said, “JARVIS, the curtains.”

“Yes sir.”

The room darkened obediently and Tony left one last touch on Maria’s hair before backing out of the nursery slowly. He needed to gather up his Omega mates first and put them all to bed in his room tonight, Sam and Natasha would most likely come as well. Pepper only slept in his bed on rare occasions anyway and since Rhodey was home, she’d be in with him tonight after Tony talked to her about just one more thing before lights out. Thor would stay with Bruce since the doctor didn’t generally do their dog pile style of sleeping and the twins would stir long enough to video call Yinsen and tell him what he missed before finally going to bed.

Tony wasn’t sure where Loki would be, even though he hoped the Omega would--

“Loki!” the Alpha startled when he turned from Maria’s nursery and found the Omega close behind him. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t see you there. Are you okay? Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” Loki said hesitantly, feathers shuddering uncertainly as they picked at the hem of their clothes. “Is Maria alright?”

“Sleeping like the wonder she is.” Tony promised and Loki smiled at the Alpha’s cheesy adoration. “You are so good with her, Lo. I love to see the two of you together, and you and Maria with Bucky about puts me on the floor. Thank you for taking such good care of my daughter and my family.”

“Well.” the Omega wet their lips and seemed to gather their courage. “Our little love is so easy to be with, isn’t she? Practically perfect, of course I love her… and this family…” Loki hesitated again, wings blinking silver before darkening again. “...and of course I love--”

“Come here, right here.” Tony straightened his shoulders and held out his hand, palm up and fingers curled coaxingly. “I want to kiss you so bad, Lo. Want to call you mine and hold you but I won’t, not until you give me permission.”

“Anthony.”

“I just need one word.” the Alpha whispered. “Just one step forward, baby. Give me your hand. Tell me yes. Please.”

It was forever until Loki mustered the courage to stutter, “Yes.” but it was nothing more than a split second before the Alpha’s gorgeous wings swept up to hide them from view, Tony’s feathers surrounding them in warmth and privacy and Loki hardly remembered leaning in for a kiss but oh the world stopped when the Alpha’s lips met his.

“Alpha.”

“Loki.” The first kiss was gentle, damn near chaste but there was no disguising the pleasure in the Alpha’s red eyes or the purpose in Tony’s fingers as they swept through Loki’s wings affectionately before settling in their hair and bringing them in for another, more claiming kiss. “Thank you. We’ll do this at your speed, alright? As much or-- or as little as you want. But I fell in love with you the first time I saw you with Maria and Bucky and you need to know I mean it.”

“Anthony--”

“You need to know I mean it.” The Alpha repeated, softer this time. “As much or as little as you want, alright?”

“Al-alright.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Tony rubbed his thumb along the sharp line of Loki’s jaw and rumbled gently at them. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Loki only nodded and Tony went on his way to find Pepper, his eyes still heated and smile still ridiculous by the time he found the pretty redhead down in the kitchen.

“You look positively stupid.” The Omega informed him, but she was nearly beaming as she offered her cheek up for a kiss. “And you scent like magic. Loki?”

“Just barely.” Tony hummed to himself as he cut another slice of cake. “They are perfect, Pepper.”

“You say that about every single person who comes to the family.” she teased and the Alpha said very seriously, “It’s because every single person who comes to the family is perfect.”

“Mm-hmm.” Pepper squeezed at Tony’s hand and pulled the Alpha down to sit with her. “Now what did you want to show me? It’s late and I still have to check in on everyone before going to bed myself.”

“I love how much you love our family.” Tony murmured, knowing full well Pepper wouldn’t even think about going to bed before making sure all the Omegas were safe, that Natasha wasn’t sleeping alone, that Bruce was settled and Thor had enough pillows and Sam had remembered to set his alarm to go running in the morning. “I’ll be quick. Here, look at this.”

“What am I looking at?” Pepper sighed and picked up the tablet to watch the short video alongside the Alpha. “What is this?”

It was shaky, clearly an amateur recording that had been cobbled together with CCTV footage from around the city and posted online, and at first the video seemed as if a twenty-something kid with questionable choices in spandex was running around recklessly between rooftops but then--

“Oh my god, is he flying?!” The Omega blurted as the red and blue dressed form on the screen leapt into nothing, burgundy wings snapping open and carrying them clear to another building. “Tony! Are they flying?!”

“No no, look closer.” Tony slowed down the video and zoomed in on the person’s hands. “See that? They’re holding something. It’s like a rope or--or a web, maybe. Isn’t that amazing?”

“A mutant.” she whispered. “A mutant with webs? Is that-- how did you-- Tony, who is this?”

“His name is Peter Parker.” Tony fast forwarded through the video to get to another part showing the kid swinging out between skyscrapers. “He’s an Omega--”

“Oh Tony, no!” Pepper threw her hands up in exasperation. “Not another one! Alpha! You have so many Omegas already! Stark Industries will go broke if you make this family any bigger!”

“Stop, that’s not what I’m thinking.” Tony waved her off. “Not another Omega for us, of course not. He’s younger then Wanda and Pietro and beyond that, look at this.”

Another video frame and the young mutant skidded to a stop close to an AC unit, wings flaring out wide in an obvious presentation and a hulking Alpha landed a few steps away, tattered nearly ruined wings arcing up high and aggressive before the Alpha tore off his mask and lunged for the Omega--

“Wow.” Pepper’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline when the Alpha took the young mutant down to the roof and the Omega only arched his back and clearly laughed before tossing the Alpha away in a wholly astonishing show of strength. “So. Webs and super strength? What’s going on with the Alpha, why do his wings look like that?”

“If that Alpha is who I think it is, that guy’s got all sorts of secrets too.” The footage went black once clothes started coming off and Tony set the tablet down again. “I just think it wouldn’t hurt to have another super powered individual on our team. And if they have a mate that is equally fierce--”

“I’ll get in contact with them, bring them to the compound for a visit.” Pepper said immediately and Tony leaned in and kissed her.

“Thank you, Pep.”

The Omega opened back up the tablet and scrolled back to beginning footage, watching the Omega stop a bus with his bare hands before vaulting into the air and swinging away.

“Oh no, this won’t make our family dynamic weird at all.” she sighed and began typing out a text message to Matthew Murdock, a priest from Hell’s Kitchen with an odd attraction to red leather. “Not. At. All.”

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

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

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

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes

#ncts fics #broken wings verse #commission #poly avengers #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #clint barton #thor #loki #bruce banner #pepper potts #james rhodes #sam wilson #natasha romanoff

103 notes · View notes

waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years

Text

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Four

Here’s the next instalment of the series, which features some exposition on the Reverend Feargal Devitt.

In order to get caught up, you’ll want to read Part One, Part Two and Part Three

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word Count: 4,494

Content advisory: Some discussion of death (which I would think is kind of expected in a horror story)

In the wake of that night, I found myself unable to teach with the same energy I had. It was just as well for William, who was sick for days, but I felt sorry for Sophia. She tended to her brother and I did what I could but I knew that she was frustrated by the slow pace. Sometimes, when I had her read a text and copy out some of the words as an exercise, I would drift off to sleep in one of the drawing room chairs. She would wake me gently in those moments, however, it was during such a spell that the Reverend returned from his weekly rounds.

I shook myself awake, humiliated as I saw his annoyed expression, but before I could explain, Kate swept in and immediately told Sophia to go and set the table. She grabbed Reverend Devitt by the elbow and pulled him into the hall without a word to me. I understood that she meant to have a private conversation, however, I found that I could make out what they were saying if I listened carefully.

She was telling him the story of William running away in the night and of how I’d rescued him. Although I couldn’t hear every word, I heard enough that I knew she was flattering me immensely, presenting me as some kind of heroine. The Reverend didn’t speak and I feared that he would somehow blame me for his son’s recklessness, or for the fact that he was still a little under the weather.

“She’s no business at all being up and teaching in her condition,” Kate spat. “She should be in bed resting and if she continues like this, she’s going to make herself seriously ill.”

I heard the Reverend mumble something but there was no further conversation between them.

I joined Sophia and her father for dinner, William still being weak enough that he took his meals in his room, and did the best I could to look alert. It was difficult because, unlike our usual dinners, there was almost no conversation. I desperately wanted to be able to speak as we always did, but every time I tried to raise a subject, I got almost no response.

After we had finished our dessert, Reverend Devitt ordered his daughter to tell Kate to bring us coffee and then be off to bed. His tone was firmer than it usually was, and I saw a faint look of apprehension pass over her beautiful features as she rose from the table.

Kate brought us our coffee and placed a bottle of whiskey on the table with a glance in his direction. He gave her a nod and a little smile, but waited until she left to add some whiskey to his cup.

“Hand me yours,” he said, pointing at the cup of coffee in front of me.

“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t.. I’ve never had alcohol, I don’t know what I’m-”

He waved his hand and took hold of my cup, adding a small amount of the caramel-coloured liquid and placing it back in front of me.

I took a sip and winced at the burn of it. After a moment, though, the flavor seemed to emerge from the fire and I gave him a little smile to let him know that the pleasure wasn’t lost on me. When I met his gaze, however, I realized that he had started to cry.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop it,” he rasped. “Kate’s told me what happened while I was away. She told me what you did, that you saved my son’s life and how you risked your own to do so.”

“I did only what was required of me,” I mumbled.

“You saved a child’s life. That is more than most people ever do.”

He rose from his seat and made his way over to me, taking a knee before me and grasping my hand in his. When he pressed his lips to my knuckles I marveled at how very soft they were. I knew already that I adored him, that all the happiest moments of my life occurred when he was at home, and that much of the zeal I had for my work came from the knowledge that I could please him; however, in that instant, seeing him bow to me as if I were a fine lady and not his servant, my love grew into something new and all-encompassing.

“I know that this is a difficult position,” he murmured. “I know that you must be terribly lonely, and that the children can be unruly. I hope you know that I never imagined they could do anything like this.”

“I never attributed the young master’s behavior to any failing on your part,” I soothed him.

“You have probably heard that keeping a governess has been difficult.”

“Only a little.”

“Please promise me that you’ll stay with us. Please promise that, whatever happens, you'll speak to me before it becomes unbearable.”

“Of course, sir, I would never-”

He clasped my hand in both of his and planted kisses on my palm before rising. There were still tears shining in his eyes but they were no longer falling. I gazed up at him, feeling the little rush that he always stirred in my heart accompanied by a new thrill at the realization that he needed me. I had never in my life been needed. I had barely been wanted.

“Papa?” Sophia’s calm voice startled both of us.

“What are you doing up, love? Are you feeling unwell?”

“William’s crying. He says he had a nightmare.”

He gathered his daughter into his arms with a tender smile. “Well then, let’s go and see what can be done to cheer him.”

The girl shook her head. “He says he’ll only talk to Miss Miles about it. And he wants to see her alone.”

My cheeks colored a little. Despite the Reverend’s kind words, I was worried he might resent the implication that his children felt closer to me than to him.

“Goodness. Then I suppose we should let her go and speak to him while we chat here.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, sir,” I told him, rising hesitantly to my feet.

I hurried up the stairs to the children’s room to find William sitting bolt upright, his face swollen from crying. As soon as he saw me, he held his arms out. Although I had always had a good relationship with the children, we had never been affectionate, and I found his gesture a little intimidating. Nevertheless, I sat on the bed and wrapped my arms around him. His little body closed around me like a snake and he began to cry again.

“Please don’t hate me,” he bawled into my shoulder.

“Hate you? Of course I don’t hate you. Whatever made you think such a thing? You frightened me and you were reckless but I could never hate you.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did it.”

“Just promise me you won’t put yourself in danger like that ever again.” I leaned back enough that he could see the earnestness in my face.

“I promise,” he said, nodding his little head. “I’ll be good for you.”

“Well you shouldn’t be good just for me. Be good because it’s the right thing to do. And be good so that your father doesn’t have to worry.”

Once again, he flung himself against me. “I love you mama,” he whispered, kissing my cheek.

The proper thing to do would have been to remind him right away that I was not his mother, but with him in such an emotional state, I told myself that letting it slide this one time couldn’t hurt.

“I love you too, William.” I nuzzled my face against his cheek and felt him smile at the contact.

“I dreamt that you left.”

“I’m not going anywhere, dear boy.”

“I never cared for the others but if you left, I should be unhappy forever.”

“Not forever,” I told him. “Forever is a long time. But it doesn’t matter because I’m staying here for as long as I’m needed.”

“Forever,” he insisted.

I laid him back down on the bed, basking in the smile he gave me and in the adoring look in his eyes. I tucked him into the bed and was about to go back downstairs when he called to me again.

“You won’t let him hurt us, will you?”

I paused, immediately recalling the dark limerick he and his sister had recited to me months earlier. Although he was never named, I somehow knew that William meant the dark figure of Finn Balor. Once again, I knew that I should scold him for believing in such things but did not.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I promised him.

When I returned to the dining room, I found the Reverend with Sophia asleep in his lap. He gave me a smile that was warmer even than the fire flickering before him.

“She didn’t last long,” he whispered.

“Well I believe I’ve dispatched the monsters from William’s nightmares for the time being.”

“I can’t tell you how remarkable this is. Neither of them ever seemed to take much notice of their previous governesses.”

“I guess he and I have a special bond after what we’ve been through.” Seeing his inquisitive look, I continued, “He was worried that I hated him for what he did. He just needed to know that he was forgiven.”

“You are as true a Christian woman as I’ve ever met, Helen. I’m not sure if I’d forgive him in your position.”

In one smooth moment, he rose to his feet, still cradling Sophia. I was impressed, for it would have taken a great deal of strength to do so, far beyond what I would expect of a country minister.

“Good night, Helen,” he said as he passed me.

“Good night, Rev-” I caught his sharp look and corrected myself. “Good night, Feargal.”

Once he was gone, I cleared away the remaining dishes and scraped the ashes in the fireplace to put the fire out. I retreated to the garret feeling unsettled by the waves of emotion the evening had brought me. I desperately wanted to think that Reverend Devitt felt the same for me as I did for him, but I knew that he was also a kind and caring man and that it would be an insult to his goodness to imagine that it might be in any way selfish. I had told his son that I loved him and I wondered now if I even understood what that meant. I knew that I would do anything in my power to protect them, but I was unsure if that was the same as love.

As I tried to relax enough to fall asleep, I also thought of what William had said about protecting them from “him”. Had my instinct that he meant the demonic figure Finn Balor been correct? Was there someone else who was a real threat? And, of course, all this took me back to the night I had saved William from the ocean caves, of the monster who had appeared to me, whose touch I still felt on my skin.

Reverend Devitt chose to stay at home a few days in order to tend to the welfare of his son. William was in good enough health but still looked pale and a bit thin. Although he never said anything, I noticed that the Reverend made an effort to take on some of the work that I had been doing, particularly when it came to taking the children outdoors. He encouraged me to rest and recover my strength and even though I felt strong enough, I was touched by his gesture. I tried to help Kate and Susan a little more than usual. The latter appreciated the effort but the former tutted me about doing too much and not resting.

I did insist on continuing with teaching the children and found them more attentive than ever. William in particular stayed close to me and Sophia was more eager than ever to show that she had absorbed everything that I told her. Sometimes, I would sit outside on the grass so that I could make sure that they got some of the summer air. The Reverend was strict about keeping them as close to home as possible and I could tell that, while they wanted to please him, they were chafing under the new restrictions.

It was on one of those afternoons that a group of men came to the gate from the direction of the beach. I recognized some of them from church and from the shops in town, but I couldn’t imagine while they were together. There was one man who stood out by his unusual height and formal dress, quite inappropriate to the warm weather. He loomed at the gate and called out to Mr. Jones, who was at work pruning the bushes by the house.

Their exchange was short and not particularly friendly and I moved to get up to see if I could help. Sophia laid a firm hand on my arm and shook her head.

“It’s Doctor Kennedy,” she whispered harshly. “He hasn’t been here since our mother…”

I saw Mr. Jones open the door and call out something I couldn’t quite understand. In response, both Kate and the Reverend arrive. The Reverend advanced to the gate while Kate waited in the doorway. I managed to catch her eye and she shook her head, her face clouded with worry. Sophia leaned as far forward as she could without leaving the shelter of the tree.

“Can you hear them?” I asked.

“A little.”

The proper thing to do would have been to admonish her for eavesdropping on their conversation but I was so curious myself that I said nothing of the sort. I let her strain forward and listen, unable to make out much myself. Although he was turned mostly away from us, I could see the tension in the Reverend’s body. After a couple of minutes, he raised a hand to his face. He began to back away and as he did, the man Sophia had identified as Doctor Kennedy called to him again.

“We shall be back to discuss it with you, Mr. Devitt,” this time speaking in a voice loud enough for me to hear.

I puzzled over the fact that he referred to him as “mister” rather than by his proper title until it occurred to me that the Doctor was a Catholic, and that this was his way of reminding Revered Devitt that he did not consider him to be a proper agent of the church. However, I couldn’t fathom what would bring him to our house.

“They’ve found something,” Sophia informed us, “in the water.”

She and William passed a meaningful look.

“Did they say what it was?” I queried.

“I couldn’t hear, but whatever it is, Papa was upset.”

“Perhaps we should go inside.”

I stood and they followed me back into the house. The Reverend was speaking to Kate, his face flushed and his voice shaky. When he saw me he paused, his eyes moving from me to each of his children and back.

“I’ll go prepare tea,” Kate rasped, looking a little frightened herself.

“What did he want?” Sophia asked sourly.

“The men went to install grates in the caves. They were worried about children exploring them and getting caught up in the tide.”

William looked a little ashamed, although I really didn’t see how this reflected badly on him. If anything, he was inadvertently contributing to making others safe.

“The doctor says they found… there was something in the cave where you were hiding the night you ran off, William.” He paused as if it was hurting him to speak. “Children, come here.”

They obeyed and I wondered if I should leave, feeling a little left out. I could not do so, however, without pushing past them, which I felt would seem rude. Instead, I backed up a little and hung closer to the door, turning my face away as if I were trying not to hear what was said.

“What they found… they think it might be your mother,” he said quietly.

“How do they know?” William whimpered.

“Well, they don’t know for sure, but what they found… they never did find her body and we always assumed she’d been swept out to sea. Now they think she might have gone into one of the caves and become trapped.”

“But what did they find?” William persevered.

“Bones,” his sister snapped. “They found bones.” She tilted her chin up and pointed her unwavering stare at her father. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He nodded. Sophia glanced back at me and he looked up again, surprised.

“I’m sorry Reverend,” I stammered, “I wasn’t trying to impose myself, I just…”

“No, it’s fine.” He patted both children on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs for a few minutes while I talk to Miss Miles?”

Once again, they followed his directions, although I noticed both of them looked back at me with strange expressions as they mounted the stairs.

“Perhaps we could sit in the salon for a few moments,” he suggested quietly.

I nodded and took a seat, frightened that I had angered him. However, when he sat down, I saw nothing but sorrow and worry in his face.

“I’m terribly sorry you have to find out about this in such a way. I know I’ve never shared the story of what happened to my late wife and you’ve been polite enough not to ask.”

“It’s not my business, sir.”

I had always assumed that Mrs. Devitt had died of a disease. Truthfully, all I knew of her was what Kate had told me when I first arrived: that she was a bit wild. A few of the townspeople had emphasized that the children were lucky to have me, particularly after I rescued William from the cave, and perhaps they had implied some kind of comparison, but I could never be sure.

“Nevertheless, you deserve to know and now that we’ve received this news, you have to.”

He gave a heavy sigh before embarking on his story.

“My wife was a very charming woman and from the moment I met her, I was quite captivated. She was from France but from the northwest, a Breton, and she spoke English very well. So we could communicate and as we spoke, I found her even more fascinating.”

I swallowed, for although what he spoke of was in the past, I could not help but feel jealous.

“I married her, perhaps a little rashly. From the beginning, I could tell that she was unusually sensitive and that she had a temper. I suppose I thought that taking her to a quiet place like this would calm her nerves and that she would change with time.

“The truth is that she did not get on well with the people here. She could be sharp with people and, although she converted to Protestantism for me, she had been raised a Catholic, which seemed to put her in poor standing with both groups. She traveled with me early on but going from place to place seemed to upset her. However, she hated being at home without me just as much.

“She became unruly and would take her anger out on the servants. I am indebted to Kate for staying because the others all moved on. She would strike them and accuse them of all manner of things. Once the children arrived, she became convinced that there was some plot to take them away. Her delusions persisted and became violent. I was afraid that she might hurt the children in the name of protecting them from some worse fate that she felt was imminent.

“Later on, she began disappearing, sometimes for days, wandering off and then returning, claiming to have no memory of what had happened to her. I was contemplating committing her to an institution when she disappeared for the final time.

“Some workers on their way back to the Village saw her headed for the beach that night and tried to stop her but she became agitated and scratched one of them in the face. She told them that it ‘was over’ and that she would not be held back for any reason. That was the last time anyone ever saw her.

“A week later, some of her clothing washed up on the rocks and it seemed clear enough that she had drowned. It pained me greatly that we never found a body but I came to accept that she was gone.

“You must understand that, as difficult as she was, I did love her very much. I blame myself for not getting her help when her mental state started to decline but I hoped that it was a phase. I hoped that settling here would solve it. I hoped that having children would solve it. In truth, she was a very sick woman and I refused to admit it. If I had, perhaps she would still be alive.”

“You cannot blame yourself,” I told him in a gentle voice. “The seeds of her undoing were in her and you did what you believed was best.”

He looked unconvinced.

“And now,” he continued, his voice dropping, “I understand that the men found human bones in the cave, the very cave where William hid and from which you saved him. The bones on their own prove nothing, but apparently this was caught up in them.”

He pulled a locket from his waistcoat and handed it to me. It was made of silver and engraved with the letters “F” and “S”.

“Sarah,” he said, anticipating my question. “I gave it to her as a present on the anniversary of our wedding.

I opened the locket and found the remains of what appeared to be a cherry blossom.

“She adored the tree in the front,” he explained. “It’s a miracle that the locket survived all this time, let alone that flower.”

“Perhaps God wanted to make sure you had your peace of mind. As painful as the discovery is to hear, it must give you at least some sense of closure?”

He nodded but then shook his head. He looked up at me, his eyes more piercing than ever. “Helen, I want to tell you something but I hate to burden you.”

“Nothing you say will be a burden to me.”

“This will,” he sighed. “I need to ask for your word that you will never tell this to the children.”

“I shall never tell a soul without your specific instruction.”

“The truth is that the Catholic people here have always been somewhat suspicious of me, more so since Sarah’s disappearance. Aside from the usual conflict about religion, they disliked the fact that I had changed her from Catholic to Protestant. When she disappeared, I know that some of them whispered that I had… dispatched of her… because of her illness.

“Apparently, there is something on the skull that they found- a contusion of some sort. The Doctor believes that she may have hit her head while still alive and that it either killed her or rendered her unconscious, leaving her to drown.

“As a result, their suspicions have been aroused again and I worry that they will try to make things difficult for me.”

“I don’t profess to know much about the subject, but surely after such a long time, there is no way of knowing for certain what happened beyond the fact that she sustained some sort of blow?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about the subject either. But the Doctor tells me that they may have an inquest, in which case, I would be required to testify. They will ask me about our relationship and about her behavior. They will ask me why I didn’t take steps to have her confined. I doubt that it will be enough to see me sent to prison but it will cast a shadow over me for the rest of my life. The church may want to move me to another town or they may dismiss me entirely. I don’t know what’s to become of me or my family and for the first time since Sarah was taken from me, I feel lost.”

All I wanted in that moment was to be of some comfort to him but there was nothing I could think of to say or do. Of course, part of me wanted to throw my arms around him and press my lips to his as a way of assuring him that I would do anything at all to help.

"Would you pray with me?" he asked meekly.

"Of course."

We sat together with folded hands and bowed heads as he asked God for strength and guidance. After a few minutes, we were both startled by a loud banging on the window behind us. Although we both spun in our seats to see what the matter was, whoever had made the noise was nowhere to be seen.

We frowned at each other in confusion and quickly went into the yard to see what was happening. We could find no evidence that anyone had been there. The Reverend went to the gate to see if he could spy anyone on the road and I went to look at the window.

There were a few signs of disturbance in the soil. Normally, I would have attributed this to Mr. Jones, but now it seemed likely that someone had been spying on us. The prints were strange, not like any boots or shoes and more like an animal, although not one I could recognize.

I stepped a little closer to see if I could make sense of them and it was then that I noticed something on the window frame: three vertical lines scratched roughly into the wood.

Immediately, I recalled the ominous stranger I had seen at the gate. I remembered him as I would a familiar friend, despite having seen him just the once. I pictured his nearly white eyes and the dark sheen of his skin.

"Did you find anything?"

The Reverend's voice made me jump as it pulled me from my ruminating.

"There are some prints and scratches around the window but I believe they're from some kind of animal."

"I suppose it's possible that it was an animal that made the noise."

I nodded. I felt a little guilty for my slight dishonesty but I couldn't think of a way to explain without making myself sound slightly deranged. He had enough to deal with, I told myself, without having to worry that he'd entrusted his children to another madwoman.

#finn balor fanfic #finn balor imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #nxt fanfiction #nxt imagine #wayward wrestle writing

10 notes · View notes

hadestownmodern · 4 years

Text

Fight (2/?)

Hi! Here’s part two! You can find part one here

-Danielle

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

“This is ridiculous.” Persephone paces back and forth across the empty bar, a force of anger and unruly curls. Junie lay asleep upstairs with Orpheus, who’d asked to take her for the night to keep him company. She’d pictured him doting on her, singing her special bedtime song and tucking her in with a kiss on the cheek and his forehead pressed to hers. She’d felt maddened-distraught that her sweet boy had been dealt the card of a runaway girl who chose to pick fights.

Where she once held absolute belief in Eurydice now lay only distinct anger.

“Seph,”

“What?” She whips around on her heel, stares Hermes down with darkened eyes and crossed arms. “You said yourself that you saw her leave with a bag. I came here and you were watching him try not to cry. Hermes, you have to agree with me here.”

“I’m not doing anything, Persephone.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“You think I like to watch him be so upset? You think I wasn’t worried when he was late today? My eye’s on our boy every day-I can notice a change in his mood faster than I can with myself. But he’s an adult now; he has to learn how to handle these things on his own. If we keep doing things for him, he’ll never learn.”

“What, like pay his rent?” It’s the first time Persephone’s eased up on her facial expression, smirking at Hermes in a teasing sort of way.

“He pays heat and electric. I’m teaching him while letting him live comfortably. What about his full ride to college?”

“I was teaching there long before he decided that’s where he wanted to go. I might have nudged him a little bit but am I ashamed? No. And his wallet isn’t either.”

“Which is why he’s the best choice of parent for this child.” Hades speaks up from his place at the counter, where he’s been exceptionally silent-brooding. Persephone hadn’t seen a look like his since college, when he’d unintentionally been the ‘mysterious, intimidating’ figure on campus. Papers are spread out along the bar top, books and bound stacks of research.

“I thought you weren’t doing any work tonight. We’re talking about our boy, Hades.”

“And I’m trying to help him. Who says she’s not just going to up and run fully? Who says she’s not going to try and take that baby with her? I’m building a solid case for him, and if this continues I’m bringing in a friend from the district. He’s not about to lose this baby.”

“Both of you sit down.” Hermes raises his voice just slightly, enough to get Hades tow swivel in his stool, for Persephone to hop up on the bar, nursing a glass of ice water. “We can’t go assuming things just yet. She’s just a girl. She’s young. And whatever she said to Orpheus…you’ve seen how closed-off she is. Persephone, you know her better than both of us. We don’t even know what she did to Orpheus. Is going after her with every weapon we have really the solution we want to teach him?”

“If it gets him his baby, then yes.” Hades speaks up, gathering his paperwork from the bar and stacking it neatly back into his bag. He rises, shaking his head. “You be the one to tell that boy we have to fight for him to keep the only thing he’s ever wanted.”

“I’m going to talk to him.” Persephone makes a beeline for the stairs, but makes it only a few steps before Hades and Hermes stop her in her tracks.

“Just let him have his time-talk to him in the morning. He’s got your baby sleeping, and I’m sure at this point he’s sleeping too. Let him process things.”

The next day brings Persephone back into her classroom, shuffling papers around and writing the beginnings of discussion points on the board. She doesn’t hear the young girl make her way in, find her seat quietly. She doesn’t even notice Eurydice until she turns around.

Her face is ghostly, distinct dark circles and the slight twinge of nausea twisting her lips. She has her head in her hand, her eyes only rising once to offer a hesitant, silent greeting.

“I’m working.” Persephone bites, and Eurydice lowers her head again.

Class passes painfully slow, Eurydice attempting to focus and answer questions with a hand in the air that never gets called on. It’s unusual-typically there’s a long string of banter between them, discussion based on facts and intellect that the other members of the class witness as an open space of time to relax and take note. After half an hour of attempting to participate, Eurydice lowers her head again. The nausea seems to be worse in her second trimester if possible, and the panic within her isn’t helping the situation. She stays seated dutifully against her own body’s will to get up and wander, to attempt to quell the sickness. She’s sure Persephone knows what happened-has already cut her off with a painless ease. Time moves forward. Eurydice’s notes are scattered, gaps within them indicating the places she’d shut down, unable to focus on anything more than breathing-fighting her lurching stomach-attempting to convince herself that everything will be alright.

“And my office won’t be open other than my designated office hours. That’s all, you can go.” Her words are short and precisely aimed. Eurydice feels their sting as she gathers her bag, ignores the crowd of faces that have clearly picked up on the change in energy.

The extra early morning shift she’d picked up at the diner had brought her just enough of a tip for a sandwich at the coffee shop.

She keeps the crumpled bills in her pocket and sits alone in the common instead, attempting to read through notes for her next class. A folded up square of paper falls into her lap as she flips through her notebook, and she knows what it is before she chooses to unfold it, bracing herself.

Orpheus had written her a song in the coffee shop one morning early on; before the news of a baby, when they’d been more naïve to how quickly they’d become so unintentionally serious. He’d been so shy, scribbling in the music manuscript journal. One hand covered his work-the other brushed occasionally against hers. She’d asked him teasingly to show him her work and he’d refused, blushing, it’s not done yet his most-used phrase until they’d had to go their separate ways.

She’d found the music in her backpack later on, tucked within the deli paper and twine of a sandwich she hadn’t ordered-her favorite that the shop carried. He’d drawn a little heart on the white wrapping, and she’d smiled at the carefully thought out gesture. She’d learned back then that these things were common with Orpheus, yet they never ceased to take her by surprise.

Reading the song again after months of seeing him-after the news of a baby and a ring on her finger-Eurydice swallows back the lump of emotion in her throat. With two more classes left in her day, she packs up her things and walks away from campus.

Eurydice can barely keep herself together as she hops from stop to stop on the subway, suddenly hyperaware of her stature and her youthful face combining with the obvious symptoms of her pregnancy and the fact that she’s very much alone. When she’d executed this trek as an older teen tasting freedom for the first time it had felt exhilarating. Today, there is sadness-humiliation.

She lowers herself down to her bed with shaky arms, the distance from standing to floor level nearly too much for her to handle. Eurydice covers herself with her scratchy sheets and closes her eyes against the world.

---

Orpheus paces. The world around him is quiet, lonely. His thoughts are trained on Eurydice-if she’s eaten, what she’s doing on her own. He hasn’t felt this sense of isolation since Hermes had moved out, taken his things uptown and instructed Orpheus in paying heating and electric, working the little fuse box in the backroom of the bar. This is different; he cooks her favorite meal, forgets to make far less than he had been. He doesn’t need to pack the leftovers, although he’s tempted to leave them with Persephone for her anyway. He talks himself out of it, keeping a Tupperware of extra food in the fridge. A piece of him holds onto the hope that she might come back tonight. The newer bit of himself works to talk himself into reality; she needs time. She needs space.

He wonders if she’s still wearing her ring.

Persephone stops by, Junie in tow, with a box of warm cookies.

“Hades made these,” She nurtures. “He thought you might like them.”

Orpheus is unable to bring himself to sit, even after Persephone asks Junie to find her bin of dolls he keeps in the spare room. Instead he paces, doing the dishes leftover from dinner. Persephone is uncharacteristically quiet. She leans against the counter, feigning a casual mannerism as she watches him. He’s heavier on his feet, more methodical in his labors. Gone is his typical chatter, replaced with the sound of utensils against the metal of the sink.

“Do you want to talk?” Her deep alto is low and sweet, and he turns to her with misty eyes.

“She didn’t come home last night. She’s not coming home tonight.” The thought sinks in as he puts his head in his hands, sinks his tall body down to the couch in finality. “What if she never comes home?”

“Then we fight as hard as we can for your baby.”

“It’s…what? She would never do that to me. Why would you even say that?” He’s so sure of himself-so sure of her-that Persephone feels herself cringe at the sentence. She’d watched him struggle through his shift at the bar just the day before. He doesn’t seem to take that into account. “What I’m worried about…what if she decides she doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”

“If she decides she doesn’t want to be with you anymore than that’s her own loss-it’s her own problem. And I’m telling you that of course we’re going to fight. If it came down to it-and it could come down to it…Orpheus, what happened yesterday?”

He recounts the situation to her as if it were a dream-in a way, he still feels as though none of this is real. He’d been so focused on her feelings in the moment that what she’d been saying hadn’t completely registered until he’d taken the time to replay it. Living the situation over again, he recounts the way Eurydice’s expression had dropped when he’d mentioned Persephone’s offer to take them shopping, the way she’d completely folded in on herself before turning cold, unresponsive. He mentioned the way she looked at all the frilly little dresses with adoration first, and then a passive sort of sadness.

“And then she said something about us not being thirty year olds with a perfect life. She told me she’s sorry I’m stuck with her. And then-it’s my fault, it really is,”

“-it’s not your fault.”

“I asked her if she only said yes to marrying me because of the baby.”

Persephone’s eyes widen, thought flooding with each potential answer Eurydice could have given. By the way Orpheus had been so distraught the day before she immediately goes to the worst answers-wonders what sweet, gentle Orpheus would do with the ring once they got it back for him. She anticipates a long conversation with Hades and Hermes, gets herself set for battle. For a moment, she feels bad for the young, frightened mother that had become so close to them-she wouldn’t be able to win, not against Hades and his airtight logic. However, Eurydice had hurt her son; Orpheus came first.

“And she told you the baby is the only reason.”

“She…she didn’t answer. And then I got upset that she couldn’t just say no. Why would she have to think about that? If she married me for more than just the baby shouldn’t she just be able to say that to me?”

“My sweet boy,”

“I’m tired.” For the first time Persephone can recount, Orpheus brushes off her affection. “You can stay as long as Junie wants to play. Can you just lock the door when you go?”

She watches as he dips into the spare room, brushes a gentle hand along Junie’s hair, kisses her forehead. He waves at Persephone before shutting his bedroom door, and the only sounds in the apartment are Junie’s tiny footsteps.

#hadestown #hadestown fic #hadestown au #hadestownmodern #orpheus #eurydice #orphydice #danielle writes

38 notes · View notes

jabbajambler · 3 years

Text

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,117

*GIF by JStarrC*

It was dark in the cockpit, but the stars outside shined brighter because of it. I followed the patterns the best I could, trying to remember the constellations that Mando had told me about. That night we shared so many stories, most weren't ours, but they were still nice.

I told him a story of a young girl. She was ripped from her family as an infant, raised to be a powerful warrior. They told her that one day, she would be the strongest of them all, that no person could ever match her power. In order to keep that power, however, she had to block herself off from the world.

She could no longer dance in the storms, prank her friends, or even fall in love. But it was too late for all of that.

They criticized her emotions, taunted her and claimed she could never meet her true potential. So, she left. For a long time, she battled her inner demons. Being alone with her thoughts, she struggled to keep them at bay.

She fought her darkness her entire life. In the end, she gave up her life for the greater good.

Mando compared it to the Creed. He wasn't too far off, really. They were similar in many ways. But there was something else to his reaction. A sadness of sorts. Perhaps a realization that him and the girl were not too different.

When I told him how the girl was reunited with her love in the end, there was a light. He radiated this warm energy that filled the ship with joy.

Him and the girl truly weren't that different at all.

The little green child sat on the control panel next to Mando, cooing quietly and pressing the buttons on the box next to him. I likely should have warned him, but the little guy was so cute, I couldn't help but just sit back and watch. It pressed a small green button and quietly looked around when nothing happened.

"Stop touching things." Mando instructed, not paying too much attention to the curious child. I giggled quietly from my seat, continuing to watch the tiny thing.

I looked at him as he blinked his big brown eyes. How could you possibly stay upset with something so unbelievably cute.

His ears perked up and he slyly moved his arm towards the box again, flicking a red switch that caused the entire ship to shake. Mando immediately reached over and turned it off, grabbing the child and placing him in his lap.

I leaned forward and rubbed the kid's fuzzy green ear while he whined. Glancing up at Mando, I tried to watch for any reaction, but there was nothing. He refused to even turn his head towards me.

"Let's see... Sorgan." Ah, so now he speaks. "Looks like there's no star port, no industrial centers, no population density. Real backwater skug hole. Which means it's perfect for us...You ready to lay low and stretch your legs for a couple of months, you little womp rat? Nobody's gonna find us here."

He set the child down in the seat to his right. I assumed it was to get him out of the way, but it was such a soft gesture that it brought a little smile to my face.

Mando swirled in his chair to face me, his eyes boring into mine from behind the helmet. At least, that's what it felt like. I really hated not being able to read his face. Of course, I could sense his emotions if I wanted to, but it was almost like violating his privacy.

"What? Can't keep your eyes off me?" I teased and leaned forward in my seat.

He scoffed. "Whatever you say, Princess."

My breath hitched and my face grew red from anger. "Keep calling me that and just see what happens."

So much for getting along again.

"I'd like to see you try."

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

We managed to find a small clearing of the forest to land. I had never seen such a beautiful sight before. While Mando powered down the Crest, I gawked at the land before me, wondering what the lush grass would feel like.

I've seen greenery before, but never to this extent and not for a long, long time. It was incredibly difficult to not run out and embrace the nature of the planet.

"Listen." Mando sighed and stood up, facing the child. "We're gonna go out and look around."

I was practically shaking with excitement, ready to go outside to actually see everything. Although, I was surprised that he was voluntarily bringing me along. I figured there would be some argument to be had.

"It shouldn't take too long." He continued. "No, don't touch anything. We'll find some lodging and come back for you. You stay right here." He pointed to the child, his voice firm. "You stay. Don't move. You understand?"

The child whimpered a response.

"Great."

I left towards the hatch with Mando not far behind me. "Any idea where we're headed?" I said as I pressed the button beside me to lower the ramp to the ground.

"Aren't you the one who knows everything?"

There was a quiet coo that broke the short, tense silence between us. I could see Mando turn to look at me out of the corner of my eye.

"It wasn't me." I pointed down at the ground between us where the child now stood, gazing up at us.

He sighed deeply and shook his head, looking between me and the child. "Oh, what the hell? Come on."

We walked through the trees with the child waddling behind us. I struggled to take my eyes off of the gorgeous plants. They reached out to me and I could feel myself drawn to the place as we spent more time here.

The last thing I needed was to get stuck on another planet.

We walked in silence until we came across a small village filled with huts. All the locals gathered in a spacious restaurant of sorts, talking and drinking with one another.

On second thought, I wouldn't mind getting stuck here.

We found ourselves a small table at the back. While Mando stared dead ahead, my attention was immediately drawn to a young woman on the other side of the building, staring at us. Her hair was dark and short and she wore a rebel tattoo proudly on her arm.

You didn't see many of those anymore.

Mando helped the child onto a stool before he sat himself down on one next to me "What are you all tense about?" He glanced around before his gaze settled on me.

I nodded towards the stranger, trying to not alert her. "That woman-"

"Welcome, travelers. Can I interest you in anything?" A middle-aged waitress came over, interrupting me with a big smile on her face.

"Bone broth, for the little one." Mando spoke, his voice calm and collected as usual.

"Oh, well, you're in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there's plenty. Can I interest either one of you in a porringer of broth as well?"

"Yes, one for-" He started, gesturing towards me.

"No thanks. The one is fine." I stopped him, not feeling very hungry with a possible threat on the lovely planet.

"Very well."

I nodded again towards the rebel woman. "That woman over there. When did she arrive?"

"I've seen her here for the last week or so."

"What's her business here?" Mando questioned, finally noticing the suspicious woman.

"Business? Oh, well, there's not much business in Sorgan, so I can't say." She chuckled.

I tossed a small pouch of credits onto the table as I leaned against it. Mando looked over at me, then at his cross-body belt, quickly realizing that his credits were no longer there.

"She doesn't strike me as a log runner. Well, thank you, ma'am. I will get that broth to you as soon as possible, and I will throw in a flagon of spotchka just for good measure. I will be right back with that." The waitress smiled before turning and leaving to fetch the broth.

I looked over towards where the woman once sat, only to find it empty. "She's gone."

I tried to stand, but I was pushed back into my seat by Mando's hand on my shoulder. I scowled and tried to stand again, but of course, was forced back down.

"Stay here. I'm going to look for her."

"But-"

"Stay. Here." He stood up and tossed a credit to the waitress. "Keep an eye on them." He demanded before swiftly leaving the building.

I groaned and ran my hands over my face. Did he not trust me to go after her? I mean, I am the one who caught sight of her in the first place. Besides, I can take care of myself if anything were to happen. He knows that.

I couldn't bring myself to sit here any longer. As soon as the waitress returned with the broth and spotchka, I left. Mando had no right to tell me to stay put, especially if he was putting himself in danger.

There were a few grunts and the sound of fire crackling from behind a couple huts. Of course his first reaction would be to get in a fight.

I followed the sound, coming across the woman flipping Mando onto his back. They rolled on the ground until they both came to a sudden halt, pointing their blasters at one another.

The sound of the child slurping his broth caught the attention of the two on the ground. I could hear Mando's exhausted sigh once his gaze landed on me.

"I told you to stay back there."

"And how many times do I have to tell you that you can't tell me what to do?" I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped by foot against the ground.

He glanced over at the woman that held a gun to his head. "You want some soup?"

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

The rebel woman, whose name we learned is Cara, sat with us in the hut, sipping a bowl of broth. She had been going on about her time as a fighter and while it was interesting, I couldn't hold back the irritation I had towards Mando.

I played with the child, avoiding being brought into any sort of conversation. Although, I do recall Cara saying 'I like her' while they were whispering when we first came in. That made me smile.

"How'd you end up here?" Mando asked her.

"Let's just call it an early retirement." Cara sipped her broth. "Look, I knew you two were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That's why I came at you so hard."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." He shifted in his seat, his posture straightening.

"Well, this has been a real treat, but unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on," she stood and finished off her soup, "and I was here first." She shrugged and set the bowl down on the table, leaving without another word.

"Well, looks like this planet's taken." Mando turned towards me, gently nudging my elbow as he spoke. "Myrah?"

Nope.

"Myrah, come on." I refused, keeping my focus on the giggling child. "Are you going to stay mad at me forever?"

I took a deep breath and tried to keep messing with the green baby. "Are you going to act like a dick forever?" I snapped back.

In all honesty, I didn't want to be upset with him. I wanted things to go back to the way they were before, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen any time soon.

He shook his head and sighed, clearly irritated. "Oh, will you get over yourself?"

"I'm not the one who got all butt hurt just because someone tried to help them-"

"I didn't need help, Myrah. I was fine on my own. I didn't need you in the first place. You intruded on my mission."

That hurt.

No, that was more than hurt. I knew it was his mission, I knew he never asked for me, but to hear him say it made it so much worse.

He didn't need me.

"Whatever... Let's just go back to the ship." I quickly left the hut with my head held high. I couldn't let him know that he had gotten to me.

I wished that I could just hide behind a helmet like he could.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #mandalorian #mandalorian x oc #din djarin #din djarin x oc #dyn jarren #jedi #oc #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #babyyoda

2 notes · View notes

anaheraimaaka · 3 years

Photo

Jet Away

17 left school booked a 1-way flight to Gold Coast, Australia.

Fake ID, grow up, glow up, party, drugs, sex. 18 in love, the game, the game, play, have fun, be free, wild out, friendship, heartbreak, pain, inescapable hurt, get me out.

Shifting and shaping, exploring the surrounding, interacting, observing and indulging in new culture, people, drama, mind broadening and life altering substances, lifestyle.

The chaos drew me in and away I went, curious and hungry, I had a lust for life and all the drama it brought with it.

You

No good from the start but when a lesson is ignored it only becomes reoccurring and ongoing.

My flat, back yard, party.

Tattoos, all over, it’s you, eyes, eyes, smile, first moment, your laugh, just dropped, coming up, I feel you, steps closer, heart faster.

The introduction.

Quick hi, phone out ignore you.

The pull strong from the start. Lure, chase, dance floor, hello, next moment, you know, the bathroom we go.

It was thrill from the start, perhaps the perfect balance of excitement, growth and heartbreak in one. A love that held my hand through the reflection of damaged love from way back.

This relationship was the beginning of understanding the true impacts of my childhood trauma.

Trying to figure out the correlation between childhood and relationships in adulthood?

Third ingredient: BELIEF SYSTEMS

Your perception of the most impactful, reinforced and reoccurring events that have taken place throughout your childhood are the template you download for your future interactions.

The way you were treated and spoken to as a child are the creation, the moulding of your belief systems in how you are taught you deserve to be treated, spoken to and interacted with.

The way your whānau dealt with and handled conflict and confrontation The way your whānau celebrated their wins, their high moments

Once having these standards, morals and values modelled to you throughout childhood by your guardians, community, peers, toward one another and toward you, we then go out in to the big world and create interactions that affirm our belief systems we have downloaded through observation of interaction and surrounding.

I learned everyone you interact with, you do because you believe they are worthy of your time. Whether that is consciously or not, willingly or begrudgingly, you make the choice to interact with these people. Once your belief systems is upgraded through consciously redesigning and setting intention and laws of interaction to protect your energy and space, you will notice people shift in to and out of your life to appropriately reflect your belief system.

Your way of being starts to shift, you begin reinforcing laws of interaction and standard of yourself, toward yourself. You are moving from a space where you respect others and require others to respect you. Building the ability to trust yourself to reinforce your new belief systems of how you deserve to be treated and interacted with. Once you can trust yourself to reinforce your laws, you release the need to move from a space of survival, habit and fear - to trust, instinctual and knowledge of self - I am the creator of my reality knowledge.

In this sense, you attract those who reflect you. (Me:) Who naturally abide and carry themselves with pride through their flow of morals and value, the slick, intelligent, well gathered, leader type. Bumping paths, tangled in telepathy I hear you thinking of me, I feel your intentions, I see what I do to you.

Gaylord

The confusion caused by the friction of craving someone who is loud and clear no good for me, took over me, altered me, it overwhelmed me.

My first heartbreak, my first love

You stimulated growth, a shift in perception, deeper understanding of life, stronger sense of self, resilience and a big fuck off blue print to what I don’t want my future relationships to look like

We grew, we crashed, we burned. You were the first man to have me close, and I was the first lady to get that close

Head on the highway, dropping molly swimming with dolphins, motorbikes, speed, adventure, drama, thrill, sex, love, lust, sex, sex, tears, laughs, drugs, party, growing, crash, fall, get up, understand me, help me, save me, love me.

We both entered the relationship unknowingly broken and bruised from life before the night you walked in and we changed everything – butterfly effect

The more I needed you by my side, the more my curiosity grew as to what it was you had, that I couldn’t provide myself, why did I compromise my self- worth, break my own vows to keep you around?

My subconscious mind weighed up the impact of pain, having you near or far? The lesser pain was enduring your causal pain toward me, the after effects of that, whilst having you close – a love suicide if you will.

I shifted in to a new space of self-awareness shining focus on my self- sabotaging choices and how I was putting myself in harms way to keep you near. As I type this section, I hear my past disappointment and judgment echoing to the forefront of my mind over the desperation and weakness I held for you.. I felt weak and desperate for your love, forever in efforts to escape the emptiness that became apparent when your distraction separated from my space for the brief moments of time. We turned to the game of distraction, the game of promiscuity, and what a fun game that was – we played that quite well didn’t we, together and solo.. very raunchy baby.

DISCLAIMER: I do not encourage, nor do I condone the following behaviour.

I was out for the evening with the ladies; Edward and I had recently separated. I was drunk and had been calling him; he wouldn’t answer and kept hanging his line up. I decided to take off home, I was far too intoxicated and the alcohol enhanced my desire to be with Edward again (perhaps the following decision will indicate the level of intoxication or crazy, you decide), I get a taxi to Edward’s apartment and pay the driver $20 to lift me up on to the apartments first story roof, telling him “I’ve lost my keys and need help getting through the side sliding door” – I’m convinced at this point Edward was with someone else, so I’m mentally and drunkenly preparing myself to confront a lady to leave the house so I can get some sleep. I do remember saying aloud “you know what, I won’t be a dick – she can get on the couch..” laughing out loud at my generosity and consideration.

I flip and fall over the rail, get to the side sliding door, fling that shit open – the rooms empty. I vomit in the toilet, have a shower, get in to bed and crash out.

Couple hours later..

I rise, it’s daylight, my eyes open, groggy as shit, head is pounding, I realize where the fuck I am, get out of bed, still drunk, in full fucking panic mode, calling a taxi, making the bed, cleaning his space before he rocks on home and asks wtf I’m doing and how.. so I rax an outfit and his slippers and away I go.

An example of ‘where there is a will, there is a way’.

A few weeks later we were texting I told him the above, he didn’t believe me – I asked, “where are your slippers?”

The pain, the emptiness you feel when someone’s position within your life is no longer, is not the absence of themselves from your life, but the reflection of space within that is requiring your awareness, your time, your focus, attention, empathy, it’s a space that requires your nurturing care.

Can one really take away from you? Or is that an illusion? Maybe the idea that anything is missing from you at any point in time is an illusion.

I believed you were my one, my other half, always asking myself how much bullshit must a couple go through before they both submitted to the comfort and safety of together forever – an idea inconceivable to the broken and uncommitted – us.

Still 4 years in to our love tornado of bullshit, you asked and I screamed “yes”

Both knowing deep within - it’s never going to work we packed our lives up in Gold Coast and flew to Melbourne.

Trapped in my mind were the events of you fucking around leaving me the unwanted gift of Chlamydia

Trapped in your mind was Anahera on her knees loving on batman in her workplace changerooms

We’d damaged the sacred waters between you and I long before you asked “Baby will you marry me”.

3 weeks in to Melbourne, life brought us to a crossroad and we decided lets escape this horror of confusion – you cheated.. again – I thought fuck this.. again. Packed my shit and embarked seriously (this time) on a journey of letting you go and finding myself entirely. Honestly, a path I had been preparing myself for since months in to us dating – never gathering the courage to leave on my own terms I awaited your last fuck up knowing that would excuse me from this relationshit

And that was that

I drove away from 4 years of bullshit and innocent love of two brokens trying to fix and distract the pain that became more apparent when we were separate – when we were alone. I had to figure this shit out – life without the love of my life.. so far

I start this book off with my first heartbreak because life up until that point was about not feeling the hurt I had endured prior to life with Edward

Never did I want to look at or think about the emotional and mental effects of the sexual abuse, physical violence, drug and alcohol abuse that unveiled itself throughout childhood

My heartbreak was the first force of feeling, an inescapable hurting I needed to cure in order to stop. Edward broke my heart at the start of our relationship – the following 4 years consisted of me running back and forth between myself and Edward. Could I do this? Could I not?

I did it, and in feeling this heartbreak was a gateway opened for me to feel the rest of mamae I had buried within, never having had the safe space within to unpack my hurt. I had a new found knowledge of self that allowed me the emotional intelligence to navigate myself through life and the shit it had put in my path to cultivate the strong, brave, courageous and intelligent lady I am today.

2 notes · View notes

thesalemsaga · 4 years

Text

𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 - 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀.

there was a twinge of pain erupting from her lower back as she awoke.

falling asleep on your desk is hardly the wise option, although one glance at the sea of papers she laid in, and you might even understand it. and if you knew the drive of seren armsend, it is that the girl with the sunny hair never gave up until all of her fuel was burnt out.

for six cold hours, she slept with her head rested against her arms, which were now growing so numb she felt that the blood had frozen and failed to rush through. her first waking breaths were startled, the panic that settles when you awake in a strange location, outside of the comforts of your bed and your blankets.

her head rose, tired eyes seeing smudged words in black ink and her fingers coated ebony and red from the energy she put into writing these letters last night. in the end, she couldn’t finish them, and everything hurt. she would do a useless job if she were to try again.

in her wake, her orange hair fell from the grips of a pin and fell down her back, tickling her skin which had grown cold over the night. her teeth shattered, breath trembled, and so she quickly moved to find a sense of warmth. it took a moment to notice the sun pouring through the windows, hiding behind dark curtains which seren threw open with all her might.

her heart was palpitating, like it does when a special day has arrived, one which you’ve been awaiting for quite a long time. her thoughts moving slow, barely awake, seren didn’t realize what it was until she went over to her desk once more and saw something which was not there before.

a card, and a wooden butterfly.

a knock came from the door, and after a few seconds of silence, it opened. her father stepped in, the respected headmaster who also held a gift box in his hands. his smile, rarely seen, was instantaneous when he spotted his daughter looking so curiously at him.

“ hardly how i expected to see the birthday girl today. ”

he carried himself over, limping with his cane in hand, and stood in front of his daughter. over the years, she had grown slightly taller than him. and especially after what she saw and fronted given her adventure, he felt as if she was fifty feet tall. he could see it in her posture, her eyes. yet sweet seren remained sweet, sugar-sweet.

“ sorry, i just woke up ”, seren mumbled through a sleepy hazy, gathering her thoughts to realize she was turning nineteen today. nineteen years on this earth and it felt like she had mentally aged five years since she returned from beyond the walls. “ did you get anything from mom? ”.

“ actually, this is from her. ”

the woman who has been absent from seren’s life for many years often still had time to send her a gift but it didn’t come with every birthday. it was no wonder seren thought her father was kidding as he handed her the wrapped gift and told her to go get dressed.

as he moved towards the door, seren’s curiosity peaked. “ she said she would be in india this month. or at least, that’s what i was told from . . . the letter. ” notes from mrs. armsend were rare, and seren kept an entire collection within an old shoe box she keeps under her bed. the february letter was her most recent one, a clear white envelope stacked with others in yellow and brown.

“ i’m not sure. still, she had time to send you a gift. oh, mine is on the kitchen table. hurry up and get dressed or you’ll be late! ”.

“ l-late for what? ”.

the response never came, seren was left in her room, clutching the wrapped present, turning it in her hands and shaking it to hear a rattle, for clues of what it could be. it didn’t dawn on her that she could open it, it was her birthday after all.

she went to her bed, sitting on the edge and with a wavering sigh, ripped the present open. usually she would take her time, it would drive her father mad, but given how difficult it is to wrap presents, she didn’t want to make a mess.

what was revealed from the box was a gift seren wasn’t quite expecting. usually her mother would sent trinkets, small things to remind the girl that her mother was always thinking of her. last year it was a pair of tap-dancing shoes, seren’s old tap dancing shoes from when she was a kid.

this year, it was a sweater. and it smelled nice.

‘ it’s washed, don’t worry. thought it would fit you, ’ read her mother’s note.

knitted with beige wool and smelling like her mother’s flower garden. seren felt as if it was the first proper gift she had gotten in a long time and that is not to insult her mother’s tastes. it was the first gift that one could say meant a lot to a girl who hasn’t seen her mother in over seven years.

she held the sweater to her chest, almost as if to grasp and hold the woman she misses dearly. she missed her by an inch when she was beyond the walls, they were a week apart from meeting, but salem’s downfall called and seren couldn’t stay for too long.

seren’s eyes, blue and curious, moved to the desk where she had first seen the clues related to her birthday. the wooden butterfly, carved carefully as if the artist molded it with the hands of a god. and she knew alexander rather well, he was not one to do something half-assed.

a blue monarch, painted blue and thin to the point where you might not even recognize it to be a mere illustration of the animal. jewels glued into the wings, glinting under sunlight and bringing a smile to seren’s lips. she was yet to open up the letter, figuring she would collect them through the day and open them when she’s tucked back into bed.

it was only through looking at that butterfly that seren realized what she was late for.

and like a burst in the wind, she threw on casual clothes along with her mother’s sweater, braiding her hair quickly on her way down the stairs and apologised quickly to the maids for getting in their way. “ dad, you could’ve woken me up sooner! or like, had martha come wake me up with a bucket of cold water! ”, she whined.

“ sorry, love! but i was quite distracted myself. don’t forget your gift! ”.

as the headmaster, he had a lot of things to do and seren tried to star clear from his path. she quickly swung back and took the gift box, it wasn’t that big but it didn’t matter, but it was heavy, it left her confused at first, to the point where she turned to her father to ask him what was inside. but one glance at the time and she made haste out of the room.

the walls of valhalla weren’t bleak this time around. a tuesday morning in the midst of mid-term vacation, she wasn’t expecting to see any students. most would’ve taken the train down to the capital and spent time with their family. some may have even paid a fortune to be flown out beyond the walls, which, believe it or not, were actually being deconstructed.

seren squealed slightly as she slid, just barely missing the turn to head up the stairs to the cafeteria. she hated being late, tying it in with being disorganized and messy and she liked to think of herself as anything but that. she couldn’t be late for a birthday celebration, especially knowing who would be there.

she burst through the cafeteria louder than she was expecting, gaining some attentions of students who looked over their shoulders and shook their heads with distaste yet the girl carried on walking. until her table was visible in the corner, just by the exit, near to the tall glass windows.

a pair of excited eyes stared back at her. perseus’s eyes. met with romeo’s excited cheer as he stood up and ran towards her for a hug, which she fully accepted. only, the impact was a little worse than she was expecting.

“ happy birthday, girlie! look at that braid-- do you need help finishing it? ”.

seren chuckled softly, pulling back from the warm hug, “ i’ll do it, don’t worry. and thank you. hardly feels like i’m turning old today. ”

“ have you cried yet? ”, perseus asked, gaining a minor head tilt from the redhead. “ no? oh, just me, then. i don’t know, i normally get emotional when it’s my birthday. it’s either due to pure sadness or gratitude. ”

evangelos grunted beside him, dressed rather gloomily for such a pleasant spring day. “ from now on, it’ll be of gratitude. no use being sad when we have an entire world out there to explore ”, he pointed out, bringing his arm under the table and then putting something on top for seren to see, a gift box. “ gifts out, gentlemen. ”

seren sat in between alexander and romeo. alexander was rather quiet today, more quiet than usual. she didn’t hear a peep from him until she nudged him slightly and smiled at his curious, innocent eyes. “ happy birthday, freckles. i hope my gift is being taken care of ”, he uttered.

and seren thought back to the blue butterfly and beamed gently. it was in her room, on her desk, perched in between her pencil case and her portraits. three portraits; of herself and her sister, of herself and her mother, and of herself and these gaggle of idiots.

“ you bet it is. ”

the table, previously barren and rid of any rubbish, found itself covered in a sea of colored wrapping papers, so many colors it made seren’s eyes hurt but not as much as the gifts which were brought forward, some so beautiful that choking back the tears was proven harder than facing salem.

and as the commemorations went on around her, the birthday girl merely observed her treasures in silence.

seren gazed lovingly at the glass rose, watching the flow of stunning lights filtering through it like fairies dancing from within, and if she was not careful, she could fall into a hypnotic trance. it reminded her so faintly of her snow globe from her early childhood, a fragment of a memory revived in a glass rose given to her by someone she never took for a romantic, even if his name would suggest otherwise.

navy eyes fell onto the gift beside it, perseus’s creation. a caricature, a rather comic one, too. seren pinched her lips together and smiled sadly. although the image of her sister never ceased in her mind, nothing beat seeing her in a physical sense, even if it was the size of a figurine. yet what mattered was the love that was invoked out of her, overflowing. her sister’s magical hair and eyes, chasing a butterfly in a field.

to avoid crying, seren then stared at a gift of an absent member. or at least he said he would meet them at the town square later. levi’s love of the hunt and liking to the crafts of man led to the gift seren wasn’t expecting, but loved regardless. concealed in a glass case, a frozen dagger, quite literally wrapped in layers of ice and fog that gave it an almost clear appearance. an ancient craft, a rare, cultural gift. seren smiled, though, wondering what might’ve caused levi’s love of knives so much.

in her arms, she held kailen’s present, wondering where the boy was at the same time. an album, composed of pictures they’d gathered over the months, from the adventure all the way to now, to just yesterday, where they had some fun at the beach. she would open the album and gloss often the dozen pages. so many memories, many which she kept close to her heart. kailen’s paternal instincts breezed with this gift, leaving seren feeling safe.

and the final gift, a bow. a simple, wooden box around the size of her small hands but it contained the most stunning gift of all; music. evan had sharp ears, knowing a song which would bring seren peace, and threw it into a music box, and when she opened, revealed engravings onto the wood of the lid, and as she spun the wheel and let the song play, she would think of those blue memories from their adventures, up until now.

seren felt delicate fingers through her hair, sensing a bow being tied to her braid by kailen’s hands. “ we hope you like it. took a while to choose each gift but the result was good, by the looks of things ”, was he referring to how seren was struggling to keep the tears at bay?

she sniffled, chuckling sweetly. “ they’re perfect. it’s just . . . the first time i’ve felt happy on my birthday. and it’s thanks to you idiots ”.

“ we’re not idiots! we just care a lot about you ”, perseus squeaked, reaching over and flicking her chin playfully. “ cheer up, pinkie. you still have to deal with us idiots till the end of the day. it’ll be magical, we promise. ”

with that, seren smiled. they didn’t even realize it, that every moment with them was magical. and that she was happy so long as she had them.

she owed the blue memories to these silly boys. these silly, but special boys.

#bonus chapter !

6 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Through His Eyes - Part 13 [Final]

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Jaebum was unable to relax.

Over the last year of your relationship with him, he believed he had mellowed out considerably. You had found yourself when you were apart and only continued to flourish at his side. If anything, you called the shots more than he did.

Which was rather refreshing.

Sometimes he didn’t agree with some of the choices you made, and since both of you were stubborn, it had led to a lot of arguments. Only to end up back in each other’s arms, apologising, compromising, reconnecting.

Jaebum had been adamant about refuting one thing you wished to do, however.

“Come on, like it’ll happen again,” you whined, and he groaned loudly, reaching down to fill Nora’s food bowl and then turning to the breakfast dishes pointedly.

Your arms slipped around his waist soon after, and he paused in scrubbing the plate, your lips finding his bare skin easily. After a series of kisses that led up to his ear, you sighed into him, Jaebum not needing to turn to see the pout now upon your lips. “Just one time, please?”

“I’m not relenting on this,” he announced and for three months, he had successfully stuck to this vow. He couldn’t fathom having you in the same situation as you had been that day. Even if you both agreed that your accident had to happen for you to be this in love with one another, Jaebum still wanted your eyes to see the world that he did. He knew in some sense, you did. Your artwork had been recognised and now you were being offered the opportunity of holding an exhibition. You spent just as many hours working as he did now, sometimes your schedule was fuller than his was. Your paintings and sculpts littered his apartment as much as your own, taking up as much residence as you did in his home.

Not that he minded, he loved whenever you stayed over with him.

But he had to admit your world had grown considerably larger and you weren’t struggling to keep up with it. And that was one of the reasons why Jaebum had eventually been overruled with his protective stance. There were only so many excuses he could use that you couldn’t refute. With the growth of your business-like mind, your tact and articulation exceeded his, presenting him with even a list of reasons why he shouldn’t hold you back from what you wanted.

With the last line of, ‘if anything were to happen, I know you’d be right there’ as a reminder, he had caved, allowing you this one visit.

Jaebum knew that if this went well, you would request more opportunities and that was what accompanied his nerves as he got his makeup done, the realisation that you were dynamic, able to achieve anything you wanted, regardless of how much he tried to ground you.

Once you had taken flight, there was no stopping you.

“It’s going to be fine,” Jackson assured from the seat beside him and Jaebum half-smiled, still unable to accept those words. He had chanted them since waking up this morning, and still, they held no true belief in his mind. He knew he needed it to be fine, a perfect execution with your safety paramount. Sure, onsite accidents had decreased since new regulations came into place after your loss of sight. His company held stringent checks on all places their artists performed now, and Jaebum had been relieved that the concert hall passed all safety checks the day before.

His nerves didn’t dispel, no matter how many reassuring hugs Mark gave him, or firm squeezes of his shoulder that came from Jinyoung. And when you stepped into the bustling environment with the help of his manager, Jaebum’s movement faltered, his eyes holding onto your approach and checking everything that surrounded you as fast as his brain could process.

Why had he agreed to this?

“Noona!” Yugyeom cried as he leapt off the stage towards you, and you grinned, hugging everyone who came your way before slipping into Jaebum’s arms.

You tensed only for a moment, your head snapping up to his, shooting him a reproachful look. “Are you seriously this worried about me?”

“He’s been driving us insane all morning with how anxious he is,” BamBam announced, and Jaebum glared in his younger friend’s direction.

Youngjae chuckled. “I’m convinced you are the most important person in his world after today.”

“Is that right?” you murmured, unable to hide your elation. Jaebum flushed with colour, which you managed to pick up on, allowing him the chance to bury into you. As everyone else moved off, back to their positions in the rehearsal, you gently rubbed circles on his back, soothing his wired body.

Jaebum was exhausted, and he had not even performed yet.

“Relax for me, hm?”

“Easy for you to say,” he retorted, stepping back just enough to look down at you. Now that you were here, Jaebum was conflicted. He felt your effect relaxing some of his physical reaction but his mind was still concerned for your protection.

“If you’re not relaxed then how can I enjoy your performance? You forget how easily I can hear when you’re out of tune or offbeat now. I’ll only be disappointed in myself if I’m the cause to all your fans having a sub-par performance from you.”

He gaped at you. “Y/N, are you playing the guilt trip on me now?”

“No, of course not,” you responded sweetly, a giggle soon escaping you. You patted his arm and then ushered him off. “I’ll be right here, listening on and expecting a good rehearsal from you.”

With a final grumble and farewell, Jaebum headed back up onto the stage, looking out to where you had taken a seat with some of the other staff. You were already animatedly conversing something with his stylist and Jaebum smiled, it was just like you to find a place in any setting these days.

Rehearsals continued for the majority of the afternoon and by the time the last song ended, Jaebum was in a different element. He was no longer fretting about your appearance on set; instead, it had propelled him to put on a better show. The reactions you gave were genuine. He watched all your emotions that you openly showed for each of their songs, laughing with the playful moments in the segments and then rendered speechless with the powerful way he and the six other members performed. Even if it was a dry rehearsal, you were impressed and Jaebum was feeling accomplished because of it.

He knew that taking you on tour now would be something he would no longer fear. Even if something were to occur, you could both face it together.

It was how you had come thus far as a couple, after all.

He didn’t allow himself to focus too much on you when the show actually began. Sure, he would look towards your seat next to where the members’ family sat now and then, grinning when he noticed how bright you looked and the way you fondly held onto his mother’s hand throughout. Jaebum focused on putting his all into his performances, not just for you, or the fans, but for himself as well.

He hadn’t felt this at home on stage since your accident. It was as if having you present could allow him to finally reach for his passion and share it around the arena all night long.

He had been exhausted earlier in the day, but after stepping off stage, he was full of energy.

It was you who was wiped out from the experience.

“I didn’t expect it to take that much out of me,” you admitted as you departed ways from the small gathering after the concert, leaning into his side as he slipped into the driver’s seat of his car. Jaebum glanced at you, leaning in to kiss your head softly. You sighed, your hand moving over his waist and holding him tightly. “It was a success.”

“You told me not to worry,” he reminded you and you sighed, not lifting your head up to face him.

“I’m glad you stopped and allowed me to in your stead.”

He grinned; he had noticed now and then you would slowly look around during the rehearsal, jumping when someone would start banging on something in the stage setup. It would be just like you to take on the universe and ensure him to leave it all to you. He nudged you lightly, starting up the ignition. “Next time, don’t try to take on so much.”

“I’m exhausted mostly because of how many emotions I faced due to your music, not because of that,” you stated, pulling away from your position against him, avoiding the vibration of his chuckles.

Yet you held his hand all the way to your home.

When the car came to stop in the parking lot, neither of you moved to get out of the car immediately, savouring your time together. Jaebum knew your mother would want to have you home tonight. Her concern over you would not always be at ease, even if you were proving to be a capable young woman despite your life changing almost two years ago. It was a mother’s right to worry for her child and in your case, she always would. Allowing you to come out to the concert had been a big thing for her, especially doing so without chaperoning. It was up to him to deliver you back tonight, safe and sound.

That much he would do.

He just didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

And neither did you.

“What if I went up there, said hello and then came back?”

Jaebum chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been with you for most of the day; let your mother have your final hours before bed.”

“If I make an hour, I’m so tired.”

“See, so it’s better you just go home and unwind with her before sleeping. I can come around for breakfast tomorrow,” Jaebum suggested and you let out a small huff of air. He knew that you had conceded, even if you weren’t openly happy about it.

“My bed has space for you,” you attempted and Jaebum leaned over to draw you into his arms, uncaring of the gearbox between you both. “Come stay with me. Mum won’t mind.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

Staring at you, he brushed the hair away from your face tenderly. He couldn’t wait for the time when you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms every day. You stayed over at his whenever he was home, sometimes going an entire week before you trudged back home, albeit with a delighted greeting for your mother when you saw her. You really did love the woman, even if you protested leaving his company every time. It was why he made a point of taking you home even when he didn’t want to let you go.

Jaebum knew your mother had been hinting at putting a ring on your finger lately, her not so subtle answer to allowing him what he craved. Only when you were truly bound to him would she allow you to leave the nest he had first found you within. Back then, your wings were unable to fly to his house, and she had nurtured you more than he could have.

It meant a lot to him that your mother was allowing him the ability to be that strength at your side now.

That’s why he made sure you spent as much time alone with your mother presently. When you moved in with him, he might not be as willing to let you stay away from him.

“You know you have a really bad habit of overthinking and not giving me an answer, Im Jaebum.”

He snapped out of his thoughts with a smile, which you reached out to touch with your thumb. He pursed his lips into you, kissing your hand softly and then undid your seatbelt. “Come on, let me take you home.”

You obliged despite his lack of an answer, swinging your linked arms softly with every step you made together. Soon you were standing outside your apartment and turned to face him, attempting to shoot him a luring smile. He laughed. “I’m not coming in.”

“No? Your loss then,” you tempted and he stepped up to you, hugging you warmly and kissing your forehead. “I’m going to go to bed and dream of someone other than you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” you informed, though you were smiling too much for it to be effective. “Since you don’t want to be at my side tonight, I’ll choose someone else.”

“Suit yourself, Nora will be all too happy to take your spot anyway.”

You huffed again and he laughed. For a moment you were both jovial and then his smile faded, his eyes searching yours.

Even without sight, they were beautiful. The colours, the depth, he had fallen in love with them. In the hallway lighting, he spotted your faint scarring, the lines he had traced upon your face many times over. He had come to love them too.

All of you.

Yet the question remained on the tip of his tongue and he rocked back on his heels, unsure if he should ask it. You placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing it gently. “What is it?”

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Seeing the world,” he admitted, watching as you blinked slowly.

And then you shook your head. “No. I don’t any more.”

“Really? Wouldn’t you love to see what’s around you? View the things you haven’t in so long? What about the people you hold dearly in your life now, do you crave to see them at least once more?” Jaebum wondered, holding you back in his arms again. He was confused; he had thought there would be a small part of you that would long for vision of some sort. Some times, on your better days, you could make out vague shapes for moments at a time. That was the extent of your recovery. The doctors had ruled you wouldn’t perform some sort of miracle and gain your sight back.

Smiling again, your hand still on his face shifted, feeling along the strength of his jaw and up his cheekbone. Your fingers lightly dusted over his eyelids that, with instinct, he shut upon your touch there. When you stopped, he reopened his eyes, gazing at you and anticipating your answer.

“I already see enough of the world through you. Why would I crave anything more?”

Leaning into kiss you, Jaebum allowed the tears to fall from his eyes. He never knew what to expect with you sometimes.

But he would take care of his sight as best as he could.

Since he knew you would look through his eyes forever.

The End.

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

177 notes · View notes

takemedancingmaine · 4 years

Text

Where I Belong

The weather had finally shifted to spring.

Although, if we’re honest, there’s not a real spring in Chicago. Only winter and then false hope then more winter and then, somehow overnight, summer.

It was sticky and the air was heavy. You could feel it on your skin the moment you stepped outside. Paired with some of the bluest skies and the clear water of Lake Michigan, one could understand the allure of Chicago, finally making sense of why people brave the winters and the grey skies. Every year around this time, I fell in love with the city all over again, fell in love with the vibe of spring baseball games and a beer on my front porch with a good book in my lap. I fell in love with beach days and rooftop day parties and going to the zoo for a walk around just because.

The trees along Lakeshore were green and full when I ran past them in the mornings, the birds were singing loud over the traffic, and kids were playing with chalk on the sidewalk in front of their houses.

It wasn't like I needed a reminder of all the reasons I loved Chicago, because I just did, but the month of May brought the reminders out for me anyway. I was enamored by the juxtaposition of the busy city behind me and the vast, empty expanse of blue water in front, kicking at the wall under my heels as I dangled my legs over the edge.

I was sitting on a concrete barrier on the edge of the Lake that separated two beaches in Bryn Mawr and writing in my journal.

It was something I was doing more and more since starting therapy all those months ago. I was not a writer by any means, nor was I eloquent, but I never felt pressure to write well or to even make sense of my thoughts as they left my mind and etched themselves into words on the pages. I simply felt a pull to get the thoughts down so that they weren't festering inside of me. It was a relief I felt that was similar to running. It was a solitary activity where I was alone with myself and able to attempt to understand myself better.

Three and a half months since my secret came to light, since I faced it out in the open and gave it a name and came to terms with the fact that I had to accept it and push forward in a healthy way. Last week, Brian had ‘graduated’ us all from his self-defense class and was gearing up to start anew with another fresh batch of students.

He was excited to start all over again in the fall, and I was excited to have not only completed his class but to have gained more than just knowledge but two friendships as a result of pushing myself through it. Tala and Brian were instrumental in my healing process, and I couldn't be happier with them being a part of my life. They also folded in seamlessly with the rest of the group. Between Tala’s wit and Brian’s charisma, they were always a welcome addition whenever they could join us in our activities.

There was just one thing about those activities that I had yet to rectify.

I also knew it had to be me, that I had to make the move to solve it. It took me a while to come to terms with this, longer than it had taken me to come to terms with everything else. It was countless hours talking to Louis and Cleo. I even spent a lot of time with Liam and asked his opinions. His advice had been incredibly simple: do what you feel like you’re ready to do, and even if you don’t feel ready, take that step anyway: test yourself.

Ordinarily, I would’ve scoffed at his idea, but Tala said something similar when I went to her with the issue as well. She was the one who, despite what her brother had told her, approved of my severing ties with Niall in the first place. She was the one who said it was better for me. Recently though, she was starting to push me more and more. The conversation we’d had last weekend had centered around the fact that I would probably never feel ready to make this move, but going off of everything else I’d done and all the progress I’d made, I was ready.

I still wasn’t sure, but that was the thing. Emotions are like water. They're impossible to compress. So once the thought was there, I couldn't push it back down. I had to follow through.

I think it was like Tala had said, that I might never be sure. I thought about how rarely sure we are in life and it made me realize just how much we as humans gamble and hope for the best, blowing on the dice for luck before we throw them down. So what if I still wasn't sure? I couldn't remember a time when I was sure. Life was about putting all the pieces together and hoping they made a puzzle, but if not it was okay, there was always a new path, a new puzzle to piece together waiting around each bend.

My journal entry was reflecting this sentiment as I scribbled in it in all caps. I noticed that when I wrote now, my penmanship was all capitals, blockish and somehow a little bit flowy. It was how I’d written notes and essays when I was in high school but had steered away from when I was trying to take notes at a much quicker pace in college. I had told Dr. Winters a few weeks ago that maybe it was because it was more deliberate, slower and more methodical to write in all capital letters. I wasn’t sure yet why or if it meant anything specific–it could always be as simple as I like the aesthetic more–but it was something to think about anyway.

“Hey,” a voice called me from my reverie. I’d been absorbed in writing, absorbed in listening to the sound of the water below me, entranced by the sunshine beating down on me. I slipped a page marker into the journal and closed it, setting it and the pen beside me before looking up.

It was the hat on his head that made me smile.

“Hi,” I said, patting the ground beside me, signaling for him to sit.

He did. He maneuvered himself down and leaned back on his hands, his head falling back as he looked up at the sky, his eyes closed.

I took that moment to look him over. He was tan, his skin practically glowing in the sunshine, and his facial hair was fuller. It suited him. I couldn’t tell what his hair was doing, but as he took a deep breath and lowered his head back down and opened his eyes, I noted that the easiness he’d always carried about him was still present. I’d worried that I might’ve stripped that from him, but from the looks of it, I hadn’t.

He turned his head toward me and I was struck by the blue of his eyes. Even with the blue water below me, the blue sky above me, and the blue hat situated on top of his head, his eyes were still the most vibrant, the most riveting of all the options. There was a depth to them that even the most renowned artists would struggle to capture. I could see them clearly even in the shade of his ball cap.

For months I’d thought that perhaps seeing those eyes again would cripple me, tear me down brick-by-brick until I was an amorphous blob on the ground, unable to function back at square one. Yet here I was, staring into those eyes and holding my own, maintaining myself. I had thought that I’d see something in those eyes that might indicate pain or regret. Instead, I saw curiosity and respect. I’d spent a few months dealing with both of those qualities in other people’s gazes to know what they were, and seeing them there, on him, felt natural. As if this was how it was supposed to be.

“You look tan,” I said.

He nodded and looked out ahead of us toward the horizon. “Yeah, I um. I went on that trip to South Africa a few weeks ago with Greg. It was a place our dad had always wanted to go, so we figured we’d get down there and see what he’d been going on and on about for so long.”

“How was it?”

“It was unbelievable,” he said. When he said that, I saw that smile, his smile, slip onto his face and watched as his features lit up. I could feel my own features shift into a smile as a response to his, the reaction involuntary, but I was unable to do anything but react to his contagious good vibe. “We did a great white shark thing, watched them breach from a boat and even went down in a tank to watch them from below. It was the scariest, coolest thing I’ve ever done by far. I don't know if I'll ever be able to top it, but I would like to try.”

He was happy.

I was struck by that when he looked at me full on again. He was happy and so was I.

We fell into silence. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. There was so much to be said between us so much that needed to be discussed and sorted through, but somehow we both understood that we were under no pressure and that added a level of comfort to the situation.

He spoke first.

“You look lighter… somehow. Calmer,” he said, glancing at me, appraising, and then shifted his gaze back out to the lake.

“I feel lighter,” I said after a moment. Watching him, and then following his gaze to the horizon. He didn't interrupt me when I paused to gather my thoughts, and I appreciated his patience, and appreciated that even after all these months he still believed I deserved the time to get it right. “Therapy has helped quite a bit. As has telling everyone.”

“Louis mentioned to me that you told everyone, including your family,” he said. I watched him from the corner of my eye. “I was really proud of you for that. It must've taken a lot of strength.”

I let out a breathless chuckle. “The family’s response was something, to be sure. And it's funny, but I knew how our friends would react. I just didn't let myself believe that they would be so supportive, that it wouldn't make them look at me in pity. I knew that they wouldn't, but taking that leap of faith is still scary sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, the timber of his voice rattling my bones. “They're some pretty remarkable people, our friends.”

“If we're calling lunacy ‘remarkable’ nowadays, then sure.” He laughed out loud at my words and I felt it in my toes, his spirit floating lightly. His energy lifted me through this process. If it was anytime else, I couldn't have been able to do this, to tell them.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” I said, my voice quiet suddenly. “I know I didn't exactly go about, well, anything the right way at first. But I'm trying now and I wanted you to know that I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apol-”

“I do,” I interrupted him. He cut his gaze to me quickly, the confusion clear within it. “I do,” I repeated with a nod. “I hurt you. I know I hurt you. Regardless of why or the outcome, I still did that. And for that, I'm sorry.”

“I accept,” he said back quietly, his eyes still watching me.

I stayed silent for a long while, looking out over the water, but I knew he was watching me, and could feel his eyes on me. It must've been a handful of minutes later before I spoke again.

“I don't have my nightmare anymore.” As much as I wanted to keep looking at the water I desperately wanted to see his face when he processed that news. So, I turned and watched.

“You what?” His mouth was wide, his eyes searching my face and moving at a quick pace, his voice was nothing but a whisper of words on an exhale of breath leaving him in a gust.

“Since early March,” I said, nodding. “Two and a half months ago.”

“That's great, Ruby,” he said softly and looked away again. I watched as he took his Cubs hat off and ran a hand through his hair before settling his hat back down. His hair was wavy and long on top, but shorter onthe sides. It was my favorite style on him.

“It's been a relief,” I admitted. He nodded at my words.

“I'm sure Moggy appreciates not being woken up in the middle of the night, too,” he said, a smile pulling on his features, knowing that the worst was behind us.

“Oh she's never been happier,” I smiled back. “I was putting a real damper on her beauty rest.” We giggled quietly and then fell into another bout of comfortable silence, the minutes just passing by as we took in being beside each other again. A couple of kids passed by on skateboards behind us and a man blaring reggae music from a speaker walked by at a leisurely pace, the sound fading as he made it to the beach to our left.

“I was thinking,” I started after it had been silent for a while, “that it's probably time our friends stopped making two sets of plans.”

“Yeah?” He asked, pulling his gaze down to me and quirking his eyebrows.

“This wasn't nearly as hard as I built it up in my head to be,” I said, letting him know I'd been nervous about seeing him.

He let out a slow breath and nodded, another smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah, it really hasn't been.” I let him think for a moment, able to see the thoughts whirring behind his eyes. “I think that's fair.”

“You think we can pull it off, being friends?”

“Well,” he drew in a breath and let it out slowly, “we've done being a couple, and we’ve done being nothing to each other, so I think that maybe friends can be a happy medium for us.”

I hoped so.

Sitting there I realized that although I had patched myself up and that I was happy, content with my life and who I was, I had still missed Niall.

I'd missed his contagious laugh and his easygoing energy. I'd missed his quirky bookish quotes that would come out when he was trying to be introspective and I'd missed watching him interact with Louis and the rest of our friends.

I realized just how easily I could be his friend. I thought about how he would fit in with Tala and Brian and how he'd compliment each of them as well. I thought about our group game nights having good music again because my choices wouldn't be voted down and the Guinness that would be stocked in all of our fridges for just-in-case purposes.

If anything were to happen between us in the future–and I recognized that hypothetical as a long shot because of the trust that would have to be built back up–that was for the future. For right now, I was happy just having him around again.

It was enough for me. It was calm and I felt that ease settling into my belly as I thought about that. I wasn't wary of what was to come or nervous of screwing anything up. It was an easy friendship and there were expectations that went along with being a friend, but they didn't feel impossible to meet or to breathe under.

“Hey,” he said, pulling me again from my reverie with that single word.

I looked over at him.

“This feels good.”

“It does,” I acknowledged. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for reaching out,” he said.

I took a deep breath and looking out at the lake in front of me, seeing it for what was far from the first time, I felt myself sink into happiness, all of my nervous energy from before leaving me like the waves pulling away from the barrier and all that was coming in was a warmth and a relief that spread through me.

Looking right, I could see the green grass and trees and the golden beach past them, could see skyscrapers reaching up into the blue beyond above and could see the sun as it travelled its path, steady and constant and not concerning itself with anything but its own power and strength.

The sun knew that it would be cloudy some days, but that never dimmed its shine, it was bright regardless of what was happening around it. I took a deep breath and closing my eyes against the light hoped that I could be like that too, bright and unwavering and strong in the face of life. I finally felt like I was in a place where that wasn't an unreasonable hope.

#so there we have it #Ruby's story is at an end #(technically there's still an epilogue to come but this is the end)#it feels surreal #Ruby is my friend my confidant and my inspiration #i hope her story means something to someone else too #so here's to my girl Ruby #fic: only ticket home #fic: OTH #OTH24 #1dff #niall horan fanfic

9 notes · View notes

eryiss · 4 years

Text

Chapter Nine - Training

Summary: Laxus Dreyar, prince of Fiore, has been trapped in the town of Magnolia for months by order of his grandfather. After a failed attempt at leaving ends up with the prince injured, his grandfather punishes him by adding a new guard to his retainer team. An arrogant, up-tight, overly confident, handsome bastard named Freed Justine. [Fraxus | Fantasy AU]

Hi all. I'm so sorry this took so long. I think i just needed some time away from the fic so I could write it well. I hope the wait was worth it. Also, the final chapter should be coming tomorrow. I've written, just need to edit it now. No warnings this chapter, just fluff.

You can read this on FanFiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. You can find the chapter list here. Hope you enjoy it ^.^

Chapter Nine – Training

"Again!" Laxus yelled.

He stood with his arms crossed, looking across the baron grass plane with a serious expression painted across his features. Standing across from his was Freed, bare chested and sweating. He was resting his hands on his knees in a pseudo-crouching position, breathing in and out heavily as he glared daggers into the ground.

"Come on," Laxus continued. "This ain't gonna work if we stop now."

The two men were outside of a small cabin owned by the royal family, a vacation home of sorts. It was secluded, only known of by a few people in the kingdom, and was perfect for what Laxus had planned.

Freed was learning to control his magic. After leaning his retainer had magical abilities over a week ago, it had been plaguing the prince's mind almost constantly. The most obtrusive thought was that Freed was ashamed of his magic. The very same Freed who exuded confidence in himself and unrelenting pride, was ashamed of something. Something that he couldn't help, no less, and something that was as much a part of him as anything else. It didn't sit right with Laxus.

So he had approached the man and explained as bluntly as he could that thinking of his magic in that way was fucking ridiculous. Just because people thought his magic was evil, it didn't mean it was. What he did with the magic decided if it was evil or not.

Freed had then confessed he was also ashamed he couldn't control it. He could change that by learning.

After Freed had agreed that learning his magic was the best course of actions, the prince had spoken to his grandfather and requested a week in isolation. The old man had put up no objections, probably assuming that Laxus needed time to come to terms with what had happened in the festival. It was far from the truth; the fact he would soon be king was something Laxus had consciously pushed to the back of his mind. Helping Freed with his magic was acting as a pretty good distraction as well.

"I know," Freed panted, standing upright.

The retainer raised his arm into the air, closing his eyes. He began muttering under his breath, and although Laxus couldn't hear him, he knew what he was doing. His emotions and his magic were linked in some way, and Freed was trying to overwork his emotions so that his magic would more easily start to form.

From where he stood, Laxus could see wisps of black smoke starting to form around Freed's raised arm. The grass started to shiver as if a large wind rushed through it, crashing to the retainer as if propelled towards him.

The sight was incredibly impressive.

The smoke around Freed's arm started to get thicker and thicker, becoming more of an inky fog that surrounded him. Despite the distance, Laxus could see that the shadow was starting to climb inside of Freed, crawling up his arm in thick black lines resembling veins. Freed had confessed that the process was painful, and the pain he was in was clear with how tense his body was. Every muscle was flexed, his free hand was clenched beside him, and his face a scowl that was unmoving and straining.

Laxus was fucking proud of him.

As the fog got thicker, and the wind got stronger, Laxus could start to sense magic forming around him. He kept his eyes trained on Freed, both so he could get a better understanding of how the magic worked as well as being prepared to intervene if anything went wrong.

The fog began to pulse with purple lights, and Laxus could see the vague mutation of the man's hand from under it. It had been disturbing to watch originally, but after days of the same, Laxus had become almost desensitised to what happened to the retainer. The black veins grew larger and thicker, extending their reach to across Freed's torso and perhaps his whole body. The extended hand started to warp faster, and Freed's mouth split open with a roar.

A moment later the fog dissipated, and a claw had replaced Freed's hand.

It reached above Freed's elbow, scales melding into skin as the retainer tried to catch his breath. Laxus didn't say anything, didn't move in fear that he might distract Freed and therefore interrupt the spell he was casting.

But this was good. Although he was clearly exhausted, this was the most stable Freed had been while attempting to transform himself. The first few attempts had been unsuccessful. The next had flickered out before Freed could do anything useful with it. the most recent had stayed for longer, but reduced Freed's mobility with the arm. But as Freed flexed the unfamiliar limb, and stretched out his fingers, he seemed to be in full control of it.

This was as close as they had gotten this far. Laxus had to trust Freed knew what to do next.

The knight was still muttering under his breath, and Laxus didn't know if it was to keep his emotions high or to act as a distraction from the pain he was in. It was tempting to step in, but when he saw flickers of black energy forming between the claws, Laxus stood where he was. Freed needed to do this himself.

There was a moment of silence, the calm at the eye of a hurricane.

A moment later, an ear shattering scream left the retainers mouth. It sounded distorted, as if underwater and ripped apart, and Laxus could only watch as Freed lowered his hand from the air and pushed it out in front of him. The energy built around his claw manically and seemed to make Freed's arm shake uncontrollably.

Then, without warning, a pulsating stream of pure darkness shot out from his hand. It knocked the man back, shooting his arm to the left and taking the beam with it. The attack only lasted a few seconds, and Freed's shouts died a moment later. He collapsed onto his knees, panting again.

Laxus ran towards him, looking to the side where the beam of energy had been directed. It had hit the edge of a forest, and the power had been incredibly destructive. Many of the nearest trees had been destroyed outright, and others that were further back had large dents in them or had fallen over by the force of the attack. All that damage had come from a spell that had barely lasted five seconds. This further proved just how strong Freed was.

"You okay?" Laxus asked as he got closer, and Freed looked up.

"Fine," The man replied, breath haggard. "Exhausted, but the pain is dying quickly. Help me up."

Laxus offered the man a hand, which was quickly taken. Freed was unstable on his feet, and Laxus quickly wrapped him in his arms, unbothered by the sweat drenching the retainer now spreading to Laxus' own clothes. The entire training process has been draining on Freed, and Laxus had quickly realised what Freed needed when he was like this. Silence, no judgment, and comfort.

They stood in the plane, arms wrapped around one another, Laxus stroking Freed's hair.

It was something that had happened a few times over the last few days, and it had always made Laxus think. As Freed had suggested, they hadnt chosen to define what exactly their relationship was, and instead focused on how they felt in the moment. Acting out of impulse, they had veered more and more to romantic actions. Kisses had occurred, ranging from the chaste to the passionate. The way they addressed each other in private had changed, as if the status difference no longer existed. The first night of being away, they had made love to one another. It had been slow, sensual, and infinitely better than when they first acted out of carnal lust months prior.

All of it had been perfect.

As he stood with Freed in his arms, Laxus thought about their decision to not define what they were. At the time it made sense, and it had worked out for them both, but Laxus adored the feeling of being intimate with Freed. It filled him with a warmth he couldn't define. Like every aspect of his life was being supported and protected by an unwavering force.

He wanted to define it; he had decided. He didn't want Freed to just be his guard and protector, he also wanted the man to be his lover. No, his partner. He wanted to share his life with Freed, to love him and be loved back.

It was a want that Laxus hadnt experienced in his life before. But he didn't mind it.

"That was fuckin'…" Laxus couldn't think of a word. Amazing, incredible, powerful. They all seemed to fall short. "You are so fucking strong, you know that?"

"I can barely stand," Freed chuckled.

"Your body ain't used to it yet. But you'll get there, and you'll be unstoppable," Laxus assured him. "I think you've done enough for the day. Unless you'd rather keep going."

"No, if I do any more I'll tire myself out and tomorrow will be a waste," Freed said, still catching his breath.

"Fair," Laxus nodded. "You need to get the rest out of your system?"

Freed had confessed to Laxus that, when he used magic, is entered his system in an unusual way. Power seemed to fester inside of him after using any powerful spells, and Freed had compared it to being on an energy high when you're trying to fall asleep. The prince couldn't exactly understand what that would feel like but understood that Freed found it incredibly uncomfortable and that was all he needed to know.

The process of removing the residual magic was simple enough, so Freed stated. He needed to put the magic to use without gathering any more energy. His rune spells, which he had greater control over, were relatively easy to perform. After practicing a more intense spell, Freed would spend time making runes in quick succession until his magic ran dry.

"I think so," Freed pushed his head off Laxus' chest. "You can go back inside. It won't take long."

"You sure?" Laxus asked, somewhat concerned. "I don't mind."

"I'll be fine," Freed gave a small smile.

Taking the man's word for it, Laxus carefully unwrapped himself from Freed. He seemed to have recovered enough so that he could stand without swaying slightly, and that inspired confidence in Laxus. He pressed his lips into Freed's hair.

"If you need help, just call," He instructed, and Freed laughed lightly.

"You needn't be so protective of me, Laxus," He smiled. "But if I need you, I will call for you."

"You better," Laxus grinned. "See you in a little while, yeah."

"Of course, your highness," Freed said, smirking.

The bastard had found another way to call Laxus by his title. He now used it ironically, apparently, as they were obviously more than just a prince and his guard.

"Or maybe just die out here," Laxus retorted, smirking back at him. "I can replace you."

"If you can live that long without me," Freed bit back.

Laxus laughed, pressed his lips onto Freed's head a final time, and started to walk towards the house.

~~~

When he heard the door open, Laxus stood up straight. He flicked some of the water off his hands and stood back from the metal bathtub that he had just filled with steaming water. He left the washroom to see that Freed had entered the cabin, shirt resting over his shoulder, looking just as dishevelled as before; perhaps worse. Laxus smiled at him, unashamed at the lovelorn expression on his face.

"You okay?" He asked. "Took a little while longer than before?"

"I'm fine," Freed assured him. "The spell required more magic, meaning I had more resonating inside me. I just needed to spend more time getting rid of it."

"Okay," Laxus nodded. "I ran you a bath if you want it. You looked pretty beat up, thought it could help."

Freed smiled. "Thank you. That's very kind."

Laxus shrugged, standing to the side as Freed slowly walked towards the washroom. Beat up was an apt description, as it really did look as if the man had been through a vicious fight, minus any actual injuries. Despite this, Freed hadnt once complained about the rigorous schedule that Laxus had made for him, nor the incredible toll that his body had been through. It was fucking incredible; Laxus wasn't sure if he could deal with it as well as Freed was.

The blonde followed Freed into the washroom, entering as the other started to undress. There was no shyness between either man, and Freed removed the rest of his clothes without hesitation. Laxus walked to a cabinet and picked up a wicker basket of toiletries as Freed climbed into the steaming water.

He audibly exhaled, his tightened muscles relaxing in the intense heat. He sat back with his eyes closed, the water covering everything but his face, and Laxus felt his heart swell slightly.

Damn, he had fallen hard.

"It ain't too warm, is it. Or too cold," Laxus asked, placing the basket in Freed's reach. "I can fix it, if it is."

"It's perfect," Freed assured him. "Although, I must admit the idea of a prince doting on me is rather endearing. At the start of the year I wouldn't have believed you were capable of running your own bath."

"Really, with the high expectations you had of me?" Laxus laughed, and Freed smiled. Laxus continued. "Gramps wanted me to be as self-sufficient as possible. And what kind of man can't bathe himself?"

"At the moment, I fear that man is myself," Freed chuckled. "Though I expect that is more out of laziness than actual ability."

Without hesitance, Laxus reached for a wooden bowl and dipped it beneath the surface of the water. Freed watched this with a slight frown on his face, quirking an eyebrow at Laxus, who responded by jutting his chin towards Freed's head. The knight seemed to understand what this meant and pushed himself off the back of the bathtub. Still without saying anything, Laxus began to slowly poor the warm water over Freed's scalp, wetting his hair. Freed's hair was a point of vanity, and washing it was the least Laxus could do.

After a few turns of pouring water over Freed's hair, he reached for the product that Freed tended to use. He lathered it onto his hands before slowly starting to massage the man's hair. It was a nice feeling, and Freed seemed to relax into it.

"I've been thinking," Laxus began, speaking somewhat tentatively. "About us, actually."

"Hm," Freed prodded after a moment, eyes opening but posture unmoving. Laxus continued to massage his head.

"And well, I get that where we're at is good. Great even. And it's not like I wanna fuck it up or anything, because I really love what's happening between us," Laxus began, and immediately wished he had thought this through. "But I think maybe we should…"

"Talk about it?" Freed concluded, and Laxus nodded. "I'd like that."

"Okay, great," Laxus nodded, feeling a little confident now. "So, I guess being forward makes sense, I want more than just this. I wanna make it serious. I don't exactly know how we'd do that. Maybe we'd court each other, maybe we could just decide to be in a relationship. I don't know how this works, kind of new to me."

He shouldn't have said that. it probably isn't good to mention how inexperienced in a relationship you are when you're trying to start one with someone.

"Well, I must admit that the idea of you courting me is rather delightful sounding," Freed laughed, and Laxus smiled at the reaction. "But relationships haven't been a big part of my life either, so I can't exactly be the voice of experience."

That shocked Laxus. Freed was a handsome man and didn't have the same social restrictions he had.

"But even if I had, I don't think it would have been applicable. Considering who we both are, both to each other and to the greater public," Freed sounded contemplative. "But we both want to be in a relationship, correct?"

"Yeah," Laxus nodded, starting to lather the lengths of Freed's hair. "That's what I want."

"Well, we should date then," Freed said simply.

"You say that like it's easy," Laxus laughed a little. The confidence in Freed's voice had been assuring, though.

"No, it probably won't be easy. We'll probably have to keep it a secret for some time, which will be difficult," Freed said, and Laxus nodded a little. "But I can imagine we've both been faced with more difficult tasks in the past."

"True. I had to deal with you," Laxus laughed. "You sure you wanna do this. I'm not sure what the politics of dating a prince are, let along a guy dating a prince."

"Politics has yet to stop me so far," Freed shrugged. "Although, if we are to date, there is something I need you to do."

"Sure?" Laxus questioned.

"You need to come to terms with the fact you're going to be king," Freed turned his head, Laxus releasing his hair as the man looked at him with sincerity. "While I can't imagine what it feels like, I expect it is incredibly intimidating, but you need to think about it. And discuss it. Because if you don't, all of this is going to come back to you eventually, and it'll most likely happen on the day you become king. And I expect you'll have enough on your plate that day as it is."

Laxus sighed. Freed was right, of course. He had allowed himself to push all his insecurities to the back of his mind while helping Freed. It wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, but every time he thought about his upcoming responsibilities, panic and dread ran through him.

"We don't need to talk about it now," Freed continued, "Or with me, if you don't want to. But the more you discuss it, the more you plan out what you're going to do and think about it now, the less stress you'll be under when it's actually happening."

Laxus was silent for a moment.

"I know," He eventually mumbled. "And Gramps said he's gonna help me however he can. So it's not like I'll be on my own or anything. It's just a fucking daunting thing to think about."

"I imagine so," Freed said, resting a hand on Laxus'. "But you will be brilliant."

Laxus didn't say anything, just rested his forehead against Freed's. They stayed like this for a moment, and the prince felt himself grow a little more confident in himself. If Freed thought he could be a good king, then perhaps he could. His retainer seemed to be a good judge of character if nothing else. Perhaps that was why he had brought it up, to give Laxus confidence in himself.

"You're a smart man, Freed Justine," Laxus commented with a fond smile.

"As are you, and the world will soon know it," Freed smiled, before grinning. "And I imagine you'll look damn sexy in a crown."

"Fucks sake," Laxus laughed. He was glad Freed had broken the ice, even if he did so ridiculously.

"In fairness to myself, I avoided any double entendres about inspecing your crown jewels. So I still have class."

"Sure you do," Laxus grinned playfully, tilting Freed's head up and kissing him again.

This was good. This was what he needed. He could do anything if he had this to fall back on.

Perhaps it was naive, but at that moment, he felt like everything might end up okay.

#fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #freed x laxus #fanfic #fairy tail #writing

7 notes · View notes