#and I’m part of that crowd so I reserve my emotions only to a handful of very close friends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s6lars · 5 months

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the 4 times he didn’t – and the 1 time he did.

a sequel to the 5 times he knew.

a trip to his hometown for the holidays might just be gavi’s golden chance to tell you how he really feels. (wc: 13.2k)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. pg6 x reader.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. fluff, some angsty bits and mildly suggestive in the end. more idiots in love, mutual pining, childhood best friends to lovers!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. cursing, drinking, suggestive at times

𝐀/𝐍. reupload from 888bear. part two to t5thk, i'll always remember the staying up until 3 am to crunch this one out in time. happy reading!

NOVEMBER 19 — PROLOGUE

[13:09] you: are you coming back home with aurora?

Gavi stares intently at the message illuminating his phone screen. When he planned a trip home to Sevilla for the holidays, the reality that you were also in the city never crossed his mind once.

[13:10] gavi: why? you miss me that badly?

He punches the letters into his keyboard before pressing send. The tone of his message is playful and frisky, all done to keep his distance and your friendship intact.

Gavi will never forget the day he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, water trickling down his face. The day he faced his emotions head-on, the day he told himself that by tomorrow, you would be his. He had planned it all out — the bouquet of roses and the reservation for a seat at Barcelona’s most luxurious restaurant had been sitting in his possession for a week, waiting to be presented at the right moment.

He asked you over the phone that night if you were down to have dinner the next day. It was a phase in his plan that he wasn’t scared of at all, as you always agreed to all of his plans.

So, you can imagine the shock when you told him, “Gav, I’m going back to Sevilla tomorrow. Didn’t I tell you the other day?” Brutal.

For the only time in his life, Gavi hated being a footballer. He hated being stationed in a city unable to leave for months. Sure, he could’ve confessed his feelings over the phone or in a text, but really? He couldn’t think of a cornier, less romantic way to start a relationship with someone.

It seemed like every time he tried to make a move, something new blocked his path. Gavi wasn’t a superstitious person, but over time he took it as a sign from the universe that he should probably slow down. I mean, he doesn’t even know if the feeling was mutual. You two still kept in touch despite the distance, and he did his best to repress the desires in his heart through it all.

Maybe, a little too well that he had completely forgotten you existed when he announced to his family and friends that he would return to his hometown exactly a month from now.

It would mark three months since you last saw each other in person. The last time you were apart for long, it was for three weeks. He still remembers the burning feeling when he hugged you after coming home from the States, bringing him to the realization that he wanted nothing more than to be yours.

[13:11] you: who wouldn’t miss the nicest sweetest most attractive paez family member

[13:11] you: talking about aurora, ofc

Gavi smiles to himself at your words, blushing like crazy. God, even pixels on a screen could get him this riled up as long as it was your doing.

He had mixed feelings about the trip. On one hand, Gavi missed you so, so much — on the other, he’s terrified that he’ll fall to his knees and break into dramatic speech upon seeing you.

Just how long can he go before he comes clean?

DECEMBER 19 — STUDY BUDDY

When Gavi arrived in his hometown, he was welcomed by his family, friends, and the crowd of strangers that had gathered in front of the restaurant he was eating lunch at. He was arguably one of the biggest stars to emerge from the area, and people were eagerly anticipating his return.

As soon as he unpacked his bags at his parent’s house, Gavi was met with numerous invitations from people he hadn’t seen in years. Lunch here, dinner there, can you stop by my nephew’s football practice? He was here to rest and spend time with his loved ones, not embark on an impromptu press tour.

His first stop was a big lunch, attended by his family, cousins, and childhood friends. The twenty or so people were gathered in a local restaurant owned by Gavi’s uncle. He enjoyed catching up with everyone, but a quick scan around the table informed him that you weren’t there.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked around.

“Oh, she’s studying for some exam, I think,” one of his friends replied. He was upset with the answer. He’s been dying to see you for weeks, and you prioritized some stupid test over him?

Gavi pulls out his phone and sends you a message.

[12:33] gavi: how dare you leave me to study

[12:33] you: some of us actually went to uni, high school dropout [12:34] gavi: I FINISHED SCHOOL I DID NOT DROP OUT

[12:34] you: at SIXTEEN. be serious

[12:34] gavi: i finished early to play football for the best club in the world.

[12:34] you: cool story, still a dropout

[12:34] gavi: not a dropout

Gavi can’t stop himself from smiling alone like an idiot.

[12:34] gavi: you’re telling me you cant even spare 5 mins for me 🥺

[12:35] you: ew dont ever use that emoji again

[12:35] gavi: can i come over at least [12:35] you: only if you bring food

[12:35] gavi: deal

Once everyone had enough food in their stomachs, people started leaving one by one. It was time for everyone to go home. After exchanging goodbyes with the party, Gavi checked the clock: 2 pm. He hoped you were still hungry for the food he promised. One quick taxi ride later, he was knocking on your front door.

Gavi can hear the soft patter of your footsteps behind the door before it swings open, revealing your face beaming back at him. His heart skips a beat at the sight.

“Hey delivery guy,” you tease, your tongue in your cheek, “it took an hour and a half for my food to come? I’m leaving a bad review.” Gavi playfully pouts at your words, his head sinking as you start to burst into laughter.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You said in between giggles, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into an embrace. He coils his arms around your waist, his face instinctively burying into the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of your perfume fills his senses and he feels himself falling head over heels for you again.

You pull away from the boy and he hands you the bag of food in his hands. Gavi hopes his face isn’t as red as he thinks it is.

“Get in. We have a lot of catching up to do.” You move away from the door to let him in, leading him into your living room.

“We could’ve caught up if you were there. At lunch.” You roll your eyes at him and sit on the couch, a mountain of notes and open textbooks before you. Gavi’s jaw drops at the sight.

“Oh, come on! You’re still studying?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“How do you think I get straight A’s, Gavira?” The youngster plops down on the opposite end of the couch, extending his legs on the cushions.

“Cheating. Pure luck. Bribery. You hire a genius doppelgänger to sit in for you at every exam.”

“Very funny,” you responded sarcastically.

You take the container of food from the plastic bag and set it on your lap. Opening the lid, you were met with the sight of one of your favorite dishes. Gavi watches the way your eyes light up, your tongue darting to lick your lips.

“So you invite me over to get free food and to sit and watch you study?” Taking a bite of the meal, you turn to look at him, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah. Basically.” You placed the container on the table across from you. “It’s the least you can do to help.”

Gavi sees you pick up a stack of flashcards and start flipping through them. Your lips mutter something under your breath every once in a while, inaudible to him. You were deep in focus, working to remember the terms you had written down. That’s when an idea pops into his head.

Reaching over the length of the couch, he yanks the papers from your grip. You looked at him stunned, jaw hanging in the air. “Hey!”

“I know another way I can be helpful.” He leans back on the couch arm and you crawl towards him.

“Give them back!” you exclaimed, attempting to pry them back from him. Maybe you forgot that he was a professional athlete because he quickly overpowers you, laughing at your efforts.

You don’t back down. Your mother didn’t raise a quitter. Instead, you push even further, your arms gripping Gavi’s wrists as he twists and turns away from you. Both of you burst into a fit of laughter, trying but ultimately failing to form any coherent sentences. Not long after, you two had to pause to collect your breaths, your abdomens sore from laughing.

It was then that you realized your current state — you were sat on Gavi’s lap, straddling his thighs with your hands interlocked, your faces inches apart. Silence falls in the room as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

You pulled away from him, flustered, flicking hair out of your face. “Give me back my flashcards.”

“Just let me help you,” Gavi’s voice turns soft as he speaks. You couldn’t say no to that.

You mimic his posture, leaning opposite him and extending your legs, folding your arms against your chest. Gavi flips through the flashcards and lands on one. He pauses to read it before speaking up.

“Enterprise zones.”

“Specific geographic areas to which governments try to attract private business investment by offering lower taxes and other governmental support,” you stated. Gavi raises his eyebrows and nods, astonished. You didn’t stutter once.

“That is… correct.” You smirk, proud of your knowledge. He flips through the deck and lands on another card.

“Venture capitalists.”

“Individuals that invest in new businesses in exchange for partial ownership of those businesses.”

“Individuals or companies,” Gavi corrects you.

“Doesn’t matter. Same thing.”

“Nuh-uh!” Gavi lifts his hand to silence you. “If it’s not exactly the same, you’re wrong.”

“You didn’t even write the flashcards!” you protested.

“I thought you wanted straight A’s,” he taunts. You sink back into your seat as he begins flipping through the deck again.

“Microeconomics versus macroeconomics.”

“Microeconomics focuses on the actions of individual agents such as consumers, householders, works, and businesses, regarding the allocation of scarce resources within an economy.”

“Right. And macroeconomics?” Gavi tilts his head low, his brown eyes piercing into yours. The sudden eye contact stops any train of thought in your brain, leaving you speechless. You attempt to form an answer but come up short.

“Macroeconomics…” you trailed off, buying time for yourself. “...focuses on…” Gavi lifts one of his eyebrows, waiting for you to finish. His gaze lingers as you chew on your bottom lip in thought.

“Come on,” he encourages. You dug deep in your memory. This was basic stuff, how could you not know the answer? And why were you so rattled making eye contact with your best friend?

You took a deep breath, covering your eyes with your right hand. You just needed to focus. “Focuses on… broad issues… such as the unemployment level, GDP, inflation, interest rates, government deficits, and…” you attempt to finish the sentence, desperately trying to get Gavi’s face out of your brain. “...monetary policy, and fiscal policy.”

You lift your head to check Gavi’s reaction. You’re sure you got that right.

“That’s right. Good girl.”

If you weren’t sitting down, you’re sure your knees would’ve buckled at his words.

Disappointed with your knowledge, you diverted your attention back to the flashcards, memorizing the terms from the beginning. Gavi assured you that you were fine (before persuading you to play Mario Party), but you were a perfectionist. The fact that he successfully distracted you earlier only motivated you more.

As you sat examining the cards, Gavi opted to scroll through his phone. Eventually, he got bored of his Instagram feed and turned it off to look up at you.

He admired the details on your face, the way your brows furrowed in focus, your head tilting as you rested your face on your palm. He catches you scrunching your nose now and again, and the way a sigh leaves your lungs as you switch between cards.

Gavi’s eyes trail down your body. The burgundy t-shirt wrapped around your figure was a little too big for your frame, and it hangs right above the waistband of your shorts. Every time you readjust your position, he gets a glimpse of your abdomen, and he swallows at the sight.

“Is something wrong?” Your voice interrupts Gavi’s little daydreaming session. His eyes widen in shock. Fuck, he thought to himself. Did you catch him checking you out?

“Hmm?”

“Do I have something on my top?” You looked down at the material, scanning it for any stains.

“No,” he responds.

“So what is it?” You questioned. Gavi takes a moment before responding.

“Nothing.”

The words sit on the tip of his tongue, seconds away from being spoken. He looks back down at his phone, preventing himself from doing so.

DECEMBER 23 — LATE NIGHT TALKING

The muffled jazz music from the bar is all that can be heard as Gavi leans against a brick wall. He stares blankly into the distance, feeling the cool nighttime breeze fanning his face. The silence was a comforting contrast to the bustling scene indoors.

To millions of people around the world, Gavi was a passionate (and borderline aggressive) ball of fire that blazed through the pitch, a player who was willing to go toe-to-toe against men taller, stronger, and older than him for the sake of his team. Though they weren’t wrong, Gavi off the pitch was a very different person. It was evident in the way he frequently excused himself in the middle of gatherings this past week, seeking time alone.

Suddenly, he heard shoes clicking against the cobblestones and quickly pulled his hood over his head, preparing to leave. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice calling out to him that he stops dead in his tracks.

“Gavi?” Who else, if not you?

He turns around and sees you step closer to him. The street lights illuminate the surroundings just enough for him to barely make out your figure.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked.

“I could say the same about you. Why aren’t you inside with everyone else?”

After you had bailed on the planned lunch several days ago, Gavi made sure that you were present at the next gathering — reserved only for his childhood friends at a local bar. He went as far as calling you every five minutes for a whole hour before you left. You contemplated blocking his number.

You scratched the back of your neck, avoiding his gaze. “Some dude tried to flirt with me. Got pissed when I said no. It got really messy.” Gavi’s face twisted in anger at your words.

“What?!” He was about to march back to the bar, ready to confront the man. You grabbed him by his arms, preventing him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Please,” you pleaded. “The other boys took care of it. Please don’t, I really don’t want it to get even messier.” Gavi would do anything for you if you asked. And when you’re in a vulnerable state like this, he doesn’t dare to go against your warnings.

“Are you okay?” The boy’s hands land on your shoulders and you nod in response.

“Are you actually?” He always knew when you weren’t telling the truth.

You sighed, looking in the direction of the bar. The boys were probably still going at it, cussing out the man in your defense. You remembered his foul words being hurled at you, his disgusting actions in your way as you repeatedly refused. The thought was vomit-inducing.

“I don’t want to go back inside.”

“We don’t have to.” We. It was his way of telling you that he would go wherever you wanted him to.

“But I’m not ready to go home either.” You turned back to Gavi and he slips his hands in his pockets. For a moment, you two stand in silence, staring into each other’s eyes.

Gavi inhales sharply, his face lighting up. The expression was familiar — he had an idea.

“I know a place.” “A place?”

“It’s not home. It’s not here.”

“How do I know you’re not gonna throw me off a cliff?” He smirks at your teasing. You always make room for snarky comments, no matter the scenario.

He extends his arm out to you, waiting for you to take his hand in yours. “Do you trust me?”

You don’t even have to think twice about the answer.

Wrapping your hand around his, Gavi’s signature smirk appears on his face as he tugs you towards him. Hand in hand, you two stroll through the streets of Sevilla, laughing at each other’s antics for the world to see. The streets were empty as it was well past midnight, providing a perfect opportunity for you and Gavi to chase each other down the alleyways, giggling like little kids.

You didn’t even notice that you arrived at his planned destination until he spoke up. “This is the place.”

At first, you struggled to make sense of your surroundings due to the lack of light. You were squinting your eyes, looking in every direction to find this ‘place’ he kept referencing.

You hear Gavi release a chuckle, barely audible. When he grips your arms and slowly pushes you forward, you jolt at the sudden action, involuntarily holding on to his wrists for support. You take a few steps forward, and it’s when the city scenery comes into view that you realize why he brought you here in the first place.

“See? I told you I know a place.”

When you two were just ten, Gavi challenged you to a game of two-touch, eager to show off his skills. Toward the end of the game, you miserably failed to control the ball, instead kicking it far away and smashing it into the window of a bodega. You could hear the bickering of the owner from inside, and as you prepared to be scolded for hours on end, Gavi grabbed your arm and started running in a random direction. He continued to run as if his life depended on it, leading you to god knows where, laughing every step of the way. Eventually, he stops at a patch of grass to collect his breath. You two collapse on the land, lying in the shade underneath a tree. It was one of your fondest memories with Gavi.

The tree stands tall eight years later — except, the two little kids that once rested below it were all grown up.

You gazed out at the city skyline from above, taking in the fresh air. It was exactly what you needed to make you feel better.

A rustling noise to your left catches your attention, and you see Gavi had sat down on the patch of grass, making himself comfortable. He pats the space next to him, inviting you to do the same. You join him on the ground, bringing your knees to your chest,

Suddenly, a chilling gust of wind blows over the area, causing shivers to run up and down your spine. You hug yourself to generate some warmth, regretting wearing a short-sleeved crop top knowing how cold Sevilla could get at night.

Gavi notices your actions, and without a second thought removes his zip-up jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You sigh in relief as the warm fabric engulfs your bare arms.

“Thanks,” you breathe out.

“No catching colds while I’m here,” the boy replies.

You look at the youngster and realize he only has a t-shirt underneath. He couldn’t be any warmer than you were at the moment.

“Gavi, you’re going to catch a cold.”

“I’m built different.” He shrugs, and you clicked your tongue at his response.

“I’m being serious!”

“Don’t worry about me.” He hopes that deep down, you know that he was willing to risk everything for you, only you.

You wrap the article of clothing tighter around your frame, never wanting to take it off.

“When are you going back to Barcelona, by the way?” The sudden question causes Gavi’s head to snap in your direction. He had been enjoying the comfortable silence between you two.

“Uhm, the day after New Year’s.”

You pouted at the response. You wanted him to stay for longer.

“Why can’t you stay for longer?” It was at this point when Gavi usually retorted back playfully, but when you spoke in that voice that made him weak in the knees, enveloped in his jacket, he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“You know why.”

Gone were the days when Gavi was a young kid, happily telling his neighbors he played for Barca every chance he got. No longer could he join his family for their yearly vacations, he couldn’t even see them when he missed them most. This was his life now — a professional athlete, the weight of a million expectations on his shoulders as he represents the club he grew up with and the country he was born in.

“I still can’t believe you’re, like, actually a football player now. No more funny business.”

“You’re only now realizing that? Really? Multiple victories, a World Cup appearance… it never occurred to you then?”

“Mmm…” you pondered for a moment. “Nope.”

“I’m heartbroken. How could you do this to me?” Gavi fakes crying as you giggle at his antics, nudging him by the shoulder.

In the dark of the night, Gavi can see your face suddenly drop. Something was bothering you.

“Y/N?” It takes you a few seconds before you can speak.

“Do you ever feel scared of growing up, Gav?” The air had shifted around you two. “Like, mentally you feel like you’re still a kid, but all of a sudden you have to worry about bills, and rent, and exams, and just, ugh.”

You drop your head, resting your chin on your knees. The thought had consumed you for months at this point.

“Like, I see you, and you’re out here doing all these things, making our country and city proud, and then I look at myself and just think, damn, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with my life.”

Gavi scoots closer, your sides now touching. His skin yearns, burns at the contact.

“Who says everything’s been going well for me? I don’t kick a ball into a net and now millions of people say I should be sold, or I’m a scam, or I don’t deserve my spot on the team. Sometimes I look at my friends that are still in La Masia and think they deserved to be called up instead.”

You lean your face closer to him. “Don’t say that. You deserve everything you worked for.”

“I wish you could feel that way about yourself.”

“I… don’t know if I can.”

“Well then, I wish you know that I feel that way about you.” Gavi’s words pierce through your cold exterior, landing straight in your heart.

You hide your face in your knees, feeling your face getting hotter by the second. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Gavi’s heart rapidly thundered in his chest. This was it.

You two were sharing a moment, you were alone, and the ambiance was perfect. The stars had quite literally aligned and led him to this moment. It was time to release the words suffocating his chest every time he saw you, to finish what started back in Barcelona.

“Y/N, can I tell you something?” You lifted your head and turned to him.

“Anything.”

Gavi opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

Sign from the universe. If you weren’t around, he would’ve let out the loudest, most blood-curdling scream Spain had ever heard.

He hastily retrieved the device, unable to hide the sneer on his face. Whoever calling him must’ve been on the verge of death if they had to interrupt this critical moment.

It was his sister. Gavi accepts the call, lifting his phone to his ear. “Hey.”

You can barely hear Aurora’s words through the speakers but deduced that she was asking about Gavi’s whereabouts, and by extension, yours. She was probably telling him to go home soon, and for good reason — it had to be at least 3 am at that point.

After muttering a quick goodbye, Gavi shoves his phone into his pocket at stands up. It was time for you two to leave. He extends his arm to help you get up, and you accept the gesture.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” You turn to part ways but was met with Gavi gripping your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

He looks at you, confused. “Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”

You stare back at him, unblinking. “Home?”

“You are not walking home alone at this hour. I’m walking you there.” Always so considerate of him.

The walk to your house was less eventful than the walk earlier. You two were completely silent the whole way through. But it wasn’t the kind of silence that drove people crazy. Rather, unbeknownst to each other, you two were fighting with the most severe case of butterflies in your stomach, desperately trying to hide it.

Not long after, you arrived on your front steps. You were just about to bid your goodbyes when you remember the jacket still around your shoulders from earlier.

“Oh yeah, thanks for the jacket again,” you said as you removed it from your body. Seconds before you could hand it back, he pushes the bundle of clothing back to you.

“Keep it.” The words don’t help with the warm feeling bubbling in your abdomen.

“Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.” You pulled him into a hug before quickly pulling away, a blushing mess. You thank whoever decided to leave the area surrounding your house devoid of any light sources.

Before you were about to open your front door, you remembered the end of your conversation with Gavi. You turned around to see him kicking pebbles on the pavement.

“Hey, you said you wanted to tell me something earlier.” Gavi’s heart drops.

“Uh… don’t worry about it.” You tilt your head in confusion. There was something he was keeping from you. But then again, you were keeping things from him too.

“Alright then. Goodnight, Gav. Stay safe on the way home.” You can make out the faint silhouette of the boy giving you a thumbs-up before walking away.

You entered your house exhausted from the bar and your feet sore from the walk. When you made your way to your bedroom, you didn’t have the energy to change out of your clothes or remove your makeup. Instead, you simply tossed your shoes aside and collapsed onto the bed.

Feeling your eyelids flutter shut, you buried your face deeper into Gavi’s jacket, seeking some kind of warmth. The scent of his body fragrance floods your senses, as you fall into a deep slumber, dreaming about him through the night.

DECEMBER 27 — FOR TWO

Christmas was usually one of the busiest days of the year, but to Gavi, it was the few days following it that were worse.

The holidays were one of the rare (and possibly only) times everyone wasn’t burdened with work, uni, or other doings, so it had become a yearly ritual for his group of friends to venture on a getaway, even if it was just for a few days.

While the group had gone far to other cities or even other countries, this year they had opted to stay in the city, renting an Airbnb to hang out in. It might not be anything crazy, but Gavi always knew how to have fun as long as his friends were with him.

The Airbnb you rented boasted an impressive six bedrooms, complete with a pool and a yard. It was perfect for the six of you that would be present, providing you with enough facilities to keep you entertained for the next two nights.

The plan was for the group to drive to the house together, maybe spending some time in downtown Sevilla beforehand. The car had been rented and suitcases were packed, but the night before the trip you had to break some bad news to your friends.

[21:41] you: bad news guys

[21:41] you: i have to be on campus tmr morning

[21:42] ale: oh come on

[21:42] ale: you're telling us NOW

[21:42] you: ITS NOT LIKE I WANT TO BE THERE?

A paper you thought was due weeks from now was actually due in about 12 hours, and after trying your hardest to finish it in a few hours, you quickly realized how much you underestimated the weight of the assignment.

You could get the job done by around midnight, but you needed to get it printed and bound. It meant that you couldn’t use your home printer, and you would have to go to the campus printing lab which opened at 10 am. This did not flow well with the original plan of leaving with your friends two hours before, at 8 am. You tried your hardest to explain the situation to your friends, only to be met with their complaints.

[21:47] lu: cant you get someone else to print it?

[21:47] you: no u need to sign shit when you turn it in

[21:47] mateo: boooooooooooo

[21:47] you: ill just go by myself after i turn it in it’ll be fine

[21:48] lu: literally how. you cant go yourself and you know that

Lucia was right. The rented house was at least an hour's drive from your place, and you didn’t have a car to use. You can rule out ordering an Uber or a taxi as the price would go through the roof. Moreover, you were carrying a suitcase with you, so it was impossible to get there by public transport.

[21:49] you: fuck youre right

[21:50] lu: anyone wanna take one for the team and stay behind w y/n?

[21:50] lu: anyone w a car probably

[21:50] lu: oi losers [tagged alvaro, gavi, ale]

[21:51] mateo: alvaro is probably drunk out of his mind rn LMAO

[21:52] gavi: why did i get tagged

[21:52] lu: can you take y/n to the airbnb tomorrow?

Gavi. Since your little deep talk a few days ago, you hadn’t seen him in person again. When you woke up the morning after, you felt embarrassed, ashamed even of the emotions you felt the night before. It felt wrong to think about someone you had known for your whole life in that way. It was also incredibly stupid, given the level of fame Gavi was at, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a supermodel girlfriend he had hidden from everyone.

The good news was, in the four days that you weren’t together, you were able to sit down and process your thoughts. The butterflies had flown away after 48 hours, so you sat with the decision that it was just a small phase, nothing more. Thankfully, it was nothing more.

But now, with the possibility of meeting him again, a feeling brewed in your gut that something might happen between you both, despite your efforts to prevent it. You prayed that Gavi would tell Lucia he couldn’t make it, or perhaps Ale would be the one swooping in to help. But no one ever gets what they want in life, do they?

[21:55] gavi: yea sure

Damn it. So much for keeping your feelings in check.

You texted him privately afterward, coming to an agreement that he would pick you up from your house, take you to campus for you to turn in your assignment, and then drive to the Airbnb. It was fast, efficient, and ensured that neither of you would be making back-to-back trips.

What the journey ahead would behold was something future you would have to worry about. Right now, current you needed to finish the rest of the paper and get in as much sleep as you could squeeze in.

Gavi arrived to pick you up at 10.45 the next morning. He helped you haul your suitcase into his car trunk, asking if you had brought your entire closet with how heavy it was. It was more surprising when you learned he only packed a gym bag’s worth of clothes for the trip.

“We’re gonna be stuck indoors for three days and you’re calling me crazy when you brought a whole ass suitcase?” The comment earned a slap on the shoulder from you.

After a quick 15-minute drive, you arrived on campus. Gavi dropped you off at the main lobby before leaving to find a place to park. He sends you off, telling you to text him when you’re finished.

The printing lab was empty when you stepped in, and it wasn’t far from the lecture hall where you needed to turn your paper in. The whole ordeal was done and dusted in half an hour, leaving you and Gavi plenty of time to catch up with your friends. You hope you two wouldn’t miss out on much.

[11:36] you: im done

[11:36] you: walking to the main lobby rn

[11:38] angry bird 🦜: kk give me a minute

It took Gavi a few minutes before he pulled up to the lobby. At first, you assumed he parked quite far, which is why the journey took a while. However, it wasn’t when the car door opened and the smell of fast food wafted in your face that you discovered the truth.

“You got Mcdonald's? Seriously?” You sat in the passenger’s seat, shutting the door before you as you looked at Gavi, one hand on the steering wheel and a pack of fries in the other.

“It’s gonna be a long trip, so I thought we should get something to eat.” Gavi waits for you to put on the seatbelt before driving off.

“Oh yeah? How long?”

“An hour and 20 minutes.” You dug through the Mcdonald’s bag on the car floor, sifting through the brown paper bags for something to eat.

“You know what I always get at Mcdonald’s?” you proposed the question to him, striking up a conversation.

“Yeah. You get a quarter pounder with no mustard, extra pickles, potato wedges, and a coke,” he responds without missing a beat. You didn’t expect him to actually know. Once he stops speaking, your hands find a brown bag with the exact order inside. He had memorized your order and bought it for you.

“...That’s exactly what I always get.” You pulled back the wrapper from the burger and took a bite. There’s that funny feeling again. You shake it off, sipping your coke.

The rest of the car trip involved singing Anuel AA and Myke Towers at the top of your lungs, you gossiping about your new friends at uni, and a long debate about whether or not Avatar was overrated. You’re lucky Gavi was a very different man off the pitch, as the heated conversation could’ve gone sideways very quickly.

The piece of food that sat on your lap went untouched for a long time — you were getting full. Looking at the boy in the driver’s seat, you wondered if Gavi wanted your leftovers. He usually did, anyway.

“Finish my burger for me?” You raised the small piece left, offering it to him.

He glances at you before looking back at the road. “I’m driving.”

“And?” You pushed it closer to his mouth, attempting to feed him yourself. Gavi nudges his shoulders to push you away, causing you to laugh at his antics.

“Y/N! Stop!” he reasons, but it doesn’t stop you.

“Say ahh!” After a few moments back and forth, Gavi gives in. He opens his mouth, letting you feed him like a child. You know he hated being treated like a baby, yet you couldn’t help but laugh when he pouts as he chews. He looked adorable doing it.

Wait a minute, adorable? No, you couldn’t say that about him. God, you needed to get it together.

One long drive later, he pulls up to the Airbnb. The house comes into view and you realize it looks bigger in person. The pictures didn’t do it any justice. You absolutely couldn’t wait for the next few days. Gavi parked the car in the driveway and you two finally step foot in the lavish house.

Alvaro, your mutual friend, greets you in the living room. The space was open with floor-to-ceiling windows, letting warm sunlight enter inside. There was a cluster of sofas in the center, facing a wide-screen TV set atop a fireplace. He had a drink in his hand, dressed in shorts.

“Took you bitches long enough,” he teased. “We couldn’t wait so we dived in the pool before you guys, sorry.” The sun had reached its peak at this time of day, and you were eager to dip in the cool waters.

“Find the empty bedroom upstairs, you guys can put your things there,” he continues. As you and Gavi made your way up the first few flights of stairs, Alvaro called out to you two.

“Oh yeah, wait!” You two turned around to face him in unison.

“The owner told us one of the bedrooms is off-limits because a pipe leaked, or something. And everyone already tagged a room, so…” Alvaro presses his palms together, and the look on his face lets you know what he was implying.

You had to share a room with Gavi.

“Uh…” Both of you could only glance at each other for a few moments at a time, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

Gavi looked down at the boy below. “Is there, I don’t know, an extra bed?”

“Oh yeah, maybe? I don’t know. I’ll text the owner. For now, just put your bags there first.” Alvaro leaves the living room to go outside. You head up the stairs and find the remaining bedroom, opening your suitcase.

It’s fine, Alvaro will text the owner and you’ll get an extra bed. Everything will be alright, you thought to yourself as you changed into your bathing suit in the bathroom. You push the thought out of your head, leaving to join your friends at the pool.

You can’t remember the last time you felt this happy. The weight of school and life, in general, had burdened you for far too long, and now you had fully let loose. You and your friends had stayed in swimwear the whole day, switching between grilling food, playing video games on the TV, chasing each other around the property with water guns, and jumping off the second-floor balcony into the pool.

Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the sky turned a bleeding color. The time had passed by like nothing, it always did every time you were around these guys. The ability they had to turn your worst days around, to erase every negative thought in your brain solely with their presence was exactly what you needed after a hectic past few months.

The night quickly turned cold and your friends were getting ready for bed. Seeing everyone starting to enter their room, you catch Alvaro in the kitchen and ask him for any updates on the bed situation.

“Varo, did the owner say anything about the bed?”

“Oh… uhm.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking his messages. “Nothing. Didn’t even read it.”

You turned to look at the clock, it was midnight. The owner, whoever they were, was probably fast asleep at this point. Moreover, you were scared of coming across as pushy if you were to question them further. This was their property, anyway.

“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

It had been ten minutes since that conversation and now you were in the bedroom with Gavi. Fresh out of the shower, you were towel drying your hair as you sat cross-legged on the bed, while the boy opted to fumble around with his gym bag. There was clear tension in the room, and it materialized as an invisible brick wall wedged between you two. Neither of you had uttered a single word since entering the room.

Suddenly, Gavi gets up, grabbing a pillow from the bed. He marches to the door with it in hand, and just as his hands land on the doorknob you finally say something to him.

“Where are you going?” “Downstairs. I’ll sleep on the couch if there’s no extra bed.” The living room, as beautiful as it was during the day, was cold and bleak at night. It was probably still wet from the water gun fights from earlier, adding to the freezing temperature. You couldn’t let him sleep there.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. It’s freezing,” you retaliated. “Well, if it means both of us can sleep alone, then I’ll do it. It’s only for one night, anyway.”

“I won’t let you.” You stood up from the bed and pushed him away from the door, locking it in the process. Gavi looks at your actions, stunned.

“Where am I supposed to sleep then?”

“On the bed.”

“And you?”

“I’ll manage on the floor,” you proposed.

“Absolutely not!”

“Why!? You wanted to sleep on the couch.” You two started bickering nonsensically, hoping your friends were deep in slumber.

“The couch and the floor are two very different things, genius.” “Fine, we’ll both take the bed! Happy?!” You froze at your words, instantly regretting even arguing with Gavi in the first place. You did not just offer the man you were having an internal battle about your feelings with to share a bed. To make things even worse, Gavi agreed.

You always thought this one-bed thing only happens in cheesy romcoms, yet here you were building a mountain of pillows in the middle of the bed to prevent your unconscious minds from moving you two closer. Gavi props himself up on his elbows, watching you intently.

“Do you have to do this?” he questions. You plop down on the bed, laying next to him. Or, the pillow mountain, you should say.

“I’ve watched enough movies to know what would happen if I don’t.”

“What? It’s not like we’ve never cuddled before.” Your head snaps in his direction, remembering the time when you woke up on his sofa together, bodies tangled.

“Hey, that was not my doing.” You hear Gavi mutter something under his breath before he moves the pillows out of the way. His face comes into view and you’re shocked to see just how small the distance was between you two. Nevertheless, you didn’t move away. You could get used to the view.

He rests his head on his hand, lying sideways to look at you. “You literally told me to stay when I tried to get up.”

“Only because you,...” your finger landed on his nose, and it scrunches at the contact. “...told me to stay the night before.”

Gavi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No, I didn’t.”

“Are you seriously doubting my memory?”

“Yeah, actually.” You pushed him backward, causing him to lie flat on his back. Meanwhile, you prop yourself on your shoulders, flipping over on your belly.

“The night before that, you pulled me by the arm on top of you and asked me to stay.”

“And you didn’t refuse?”

“Not like you did either.” You had a point. Gavi’s eyes drift to the ceiling above him, placing his arms behind his head.

“Well, you asked me to stay. Did you not… want me to?” You couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“I always want you to be with me.”

Gavi could feel his heart rapidly thundering in his ribcage at your words. As he examines your face in the warm light of the room, all he can focus on is the twinkling in your pupils as you look down at him, and how much love floods his heart at the sight. Never breaking eye contact, you lie your cheek flat against the pillow.

So little, yet so much was spoken. There was a lingering feeling in the air that the two of you were restraining yourselves from saying or doing something, something that has been brewing for months. You two sat in silence, breathing in unison, twitching every so often as if to move, stopping midair before you could follow through. When Gavi finally builds up the courage to speak, the words he sounded weren’t the ones he expected.

“It’s getting late.” He reaches over you to turn off the nightstand on your side of the bed. As he lifts himself and extends his arm, his chest brushes against your face. Without a second thought, you nuzzle deeper into him, taking in the scent of his body wash. After the light goes out, Gavi doesn’t retract his arm back, instead dropping it over your waist, his hand landing on your lower back.

The last time you found yourselves in this position, you two were drunk and disoriented. This time, you were stone-cold sober. There was nothing to blame your actions on. But was it so wrong to be doing this?

Your eyelids flutter shut and your breathing slows as you slowly fell asleep. You can feel Gavi tug the sheets up to cover you two, further trapping you in the position. His nose finds its way to your scalp and you feel the air fanning your scalp.

His warmth was engulfing you, your ear was pressed against his shirt, listening to his heartbeat, while his hand sends shockwaves up and down your spine as he slips his palm under your shirt. You’ve slept like this before. You don’t mind doing it again.

When Gavi woke up the next day, he checked his phone to find a text from Alvaro.

[09:08] alvaro: the owner just texted, he said theres no extra bed

[09:08] alvaro: you ok with that?

Gavi looks down to see your face buried in the crook of his neck, feeling the featherlight touch of your arms that slithered around his neck unconsciously during the night. He looks back to his phone to respond.

[09:09] gavi: i’ll be fine

The second and last night you would be staying at the Airbnb, you didn’t have to say anything when it was time to sleep. You simply got under the covers and waited patiently for Gavi to settle in next to you before turning off the lights. It felt like it was a normal part of your nightly routine.

When you arrived home two days later, lying in the comfort of your bedroom at night, you turned to the empty spot beside you. The bed felt half-full.

DECEMBER 31 — OVERDRIVE

New Year’s Eve was synonymously known as a day of celebration and joy, but you couldn’t have had a worse day.

For starters, when you woke up this morning, you were greeted with a bright red stain spilling on your white sheets. The days leading up to the new year had been so hectic that you completely forgot your period would start today. Resentfully, you changed your sheets first thing in the morning, the action taking up too much energy for how early it was.

You shoved the bundle of cloth in your washing machine and went to turn it on, but it didn’t budge. You tried a few more times but it remained off even after your best attempts. There was no point in trying to wash the sheets by hand, so it meant a trip over to your neighborhood’s closest laundromat.

Your first mistake of the day, you would soon learn.

Shortly after lunch, you arrived at the laundromat, sheets in hand. As you sat waiting for the machine to finish washing your sheets, a young man walked into the store, choosing to sit next to you out of all the empty seats available. You feel his eyes glued to you as you mindlessly scroll through your phone. It didn’t take long for the words to start coming out of his mouth.

You’re not from around here. What’s your name, bonita? It’s not often a young girl like you shows up around this part of town. Each sentence raises goosebumps on your skin — and not in a good way.

The last straw came when his palm landed on your bare thigh, quickly working its way up. You shove him away from you, maintaining your distance.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You loudly called out his disgusting actions in the middle of the laundromat, warning him to back off. The man starts sputtering nonsense back about how you shouldn’t get aggressive and how you were overreacting, only adding fuel to the fire.

“You can’t go around wearing that and get upset when people start touching you!” A hoodie and shorts. You were wearing a hoodie and shorts, and even if you wore anything else, that was not an invitation for his hands to land anywhere near you.

That was the final straw. You hastily pulled your sheets from the dryer, feeling your eyes well with tears in the process. The man continues to hurl insults in your direction, and the owner of the laundromat finally steps in to defuse the situation. You shoved the money on the counter and borderline ran out of the place as he shouts at you to never return.

It was the only time you took his words seriously.

Back home in the shower, you felt filthy. You aggressively scrubbed at your thighs with the loofah, hoping to eradicate any trace of him left.

Later in the evening, you opened your laptop to go through your emails. You thought the mundane routine would be enough to take your mind off of this morning’s happenings. What you didn’t expect was that it would turn out to be the complete opposite, as your mouse lands on an angrily typed-out email from a college friend.

According to them, a recent group project involving you two received lower marks than they expected, and they felt the need to pin the blame on you. Your eyes darted across the screen, only skimming over the words — a few of which bore through your skull.

…I don’t know why it’s so difficult for you to just try and at least put in a little effort…

…I don’t care if this is how you do all your assignments, but this is a group project…

…You just never get anything right…

You sacrificed sleep for that project. You bailed on personal events to work on it alone. You gave it your all, sitting through your partner’s endless criticisms on early drafts. It’s funny how they have the nerve to accuse you of not putting in any effort when you clearly remember doing the majority of the work, while all they did was made small modifications.

The words came out of the screen and pierced you straight through the heart. Trembling fingers hovered over your keyboard as you struggled to respond.

You find yourself typing and deleting sentences repeatedly, hovering between staying professional and feeling livid. Your brain was in too much of a frenzy to keep your emotions in check. The seething sensation you felt continued to build and build until you snapped, slamming the laptop shut and burying your head in your hands.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, you thought to yourself. Slowly but surely, your breathing collected, your heart rate slowed, and you began to calm down. You set down the laptop on your desk, vowing to keep it closed for the remainder of the day.

After a quick bathroom trip to splash your face with water, you walked back into your room and dropped on the bed. You managed to take a peak at the clock on your wall; 6 pm. While you had made plans for a New Year’s party with your friends, midnight was still hours away, and all you could feel was the sleepiness consuming you.

Turning your phone off and setting it on the nightstand, you decide to take a quick nap. It was the least you could do to give yourself a break.

You woke up to a stuffy, pitch-black room. You slowly lifted your head before jolting fully awake, scrambling to find your phone. The numbers glared back at you through the screen — it was 10.00 pm. The ‘quick nap’ you planned on taking had actually lasted almost five hours.

Below the clock, multiple notifications from your friends poured through, asking you about your whereabouts. You were supposed to be at Mateo’s house at this hour, getting ready to celebrate the new year. Instead, you were in clothes you use to sleep in every night.

[22:04] mateo: [tagged you] hello?? where are you?

[22:04] you: im here im here im here

[22:05] you: im omw i promise i had to deal with something first

You were, in fact, not on your way — rather you were hastily stripping off your clothes as you sat on your vanity, pulling out your makeup bag. You had less than two hours to get ready and be at Mateo’s place.

You had originally planned a glamorous look for the night, constructing the perfect outfit, hair, and makeup look, but you were racing against the clock. You decided to skip multiple steps in your routine and simplify your hairdo to help your case. As you ran your hair through the straightener for the nth time, you got another text from Mateo.

[22:23] mateo: oh yeah btw [tagged you] can you get grapes we’re running short

Mateo was talking about las doce uvas de la suerte of course, the Spanish tradition of eating twelve grapes at midnight for good luck. You’re pretty sure you have a fresh container in the fridge from your grocery shopping last week.

[22:24] you: yeah dw

After a 30-minute-long struggle, you were finally done getting ready. Shoving your belongings into a purse, you reached for the closest pair of shoes in your closet before stopping in the kitchen, retrieving the grapes. You know you’ll be met with endless complaints from your friends for being late, but hopefully, the grapes could somewhat make up for it.

The Uber ride to Mateo’s house consisted of you anxiously bouncing your leg to the point of cramping. You incessantly checked the time and watched as the time ticked up agonizingly slowly. When the driver took you to your destination, you could only mutter a quick ‘thank you’ before dashing out onto the street.

You could spot the fairy lights decorating the backyard from the distance, and the closer you stepped the louder the music resonated in your ears. Your friends, Mateo’s family members, and even his neighbors had gathered to celebrate.

Mateo emerged from inside the house and greeted you with a hug. “Took you long enough! We thought you’d never show up.”

You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, knowing you were so, so close to sleeping through the whole thing.

The boy looked you up and down and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Damn, you look like a mess,” he teased.

You knew it was all in good fun — Mateo was always the jokester in the group. Despite this, you felt your veins throbbing in rage and your eyes getting hot.

You had just gone through more than you can handle. It seemed like since the second you opened your eyes, nothing had gone your way. Something as seemingly trivial as a joke had pushed you over the edge, causing your blood to boil.

“Enjoy your fucking grapes,” you sneered.

You shoved the container harshly against Mateo’s chest and he steps back at the impact. His eyes go wide at your sudden, out-of-character actions. The people in the yard watched as you stomped off the premises, jaw clenched and eyebrows lowered. Anyone could tell that you were fuming.

You had spent half an hour getting ready only to stay at the party for less than 2 minutes. The second Uber ride of the night was more depressing than the first. Your head was thrown back against the headrest as you stared at the car ceiling with dead eyes. You wanted nothing more than for the day to end.

Arriving home at your house, you gently shut the door behind you. The house remained in the same silent, dark condition it was in when you left not long ago. Your legs slowly carry you to the living room couch, letting your purse fall down your arms and onto the floor. Sinking onto the cushions, you sat alone in the gloomy space. You check the clock for one last time; 11.49 pm.

So, this was how you were spending New Year’s. Alone in the dark.

It was right at that moment when a series of rapid taps sounded against your front door, causing you to flinch in place. Who could be visiting you at this hour?

You swing the front door open to be met with a face you’ve seen a million times over. Gavi.

“Gavi,” you breathed out, no louder than a whisper. His gaze softens at the tone of your voice.

“Can I come in?” You nodded, stepping out of the way to let him in. You lead him to the living room, picking up your purse and placing it on the coffee table. You didn’t want him to think that you were on the verge of a breakdown not even five minutes ago.

“Why are you here?”

He sits next to you on the couch. “I heard something happened with you and Mateo.”

“Nothing happened. I was just, kinda pissed— not at him, but he was the unfortunate target.” You started to feel bad for the boy at that point and hoped he would be just as understanding as Gavi was. “He’s not hurt, is he?”

“No, no. He was more worried about you. We all were.”

“How did you get here?”

“Oh, I drove.” Gavi pointed behind him as if pointing to his car. “Soon as I heard what happened I just tailed after you.”

“Did they ask you to pick me up?”

“Do you want to go back?” The silence that followed lets him know that you didn’t want to.

“That’s okay, that’s fine. Actually—” Gavi suddenly twists his body, digging in the pockets of his outfit. “If you’re planning on staying, I might as well give it to you now.” He searched his jacket and his shirt before feeling the back pocket of his pants and turning back to you.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he instructs. You were hesitant at first but complied in the end.

You felt a small weight fall on your palms. “Open.”

Your eyelids fluttered open to the sight of a small gift box wrapped in a bowtie. Undoing the knot, you fumbled with the box before turning it upside down to reveal its contents, feeling Gavi’s eyes on you the whole time.

Two things fell out of the small box; a small folded note and another, smaller, velvet box. You examine the latter first, undoing the clasp to reveal a necklace gleaming in the dim moonlight. The piece of jewelry was gold in color with a thin bar of metal hanging from the middle. Upon closer inspection, you saw something engraving on the bar.

You picked up the necklace between your fingers, running them through the etches, unsure what was written.

“It’s the coordinates of my parents’ old house. Where we first met,” Gavi explains. The mention of the location brings back recollections of a sweaty nine-year-old Gavi, mud on his football kit, knocking on your front door to ask if he can take the ball he’d accidentally punted in your backyard. When you let the boy in, you would’ve never expected the bond you’d form for years to come.

A smile slowly appeared on your face as you fiddled with the necklace, rewinding the memories in your head. You moved to unravel the note next. The note was short, only containing wishes for you in the coming year, but it was the last sentence that stirred your emotions.

I’ll never shut up about how proud I am of you. You’re actually one of the best things that have ever happened to me. Happy New Year’s, stink •ᴗ•

After what you had endured from the moment you woke up, the thought that someone — Gavi, on top of that — told you they were proud of you and were one of the best things to ever happen to them was enough for your emotions to start stirring in your head, the first beads of tears dribbling down your heated cheeks.

Gavi didn’t even notice your crying until your silent sniffles grow louder and louder causing your body to droop. He wasn’t expecting you to react like this. At first, he thought he did something wrong. Was it a bad gift?

His arms encase your hunched frame, pulling your face closer to his chest. The feeling of his flesh under yours only made your sobbing worse. The items in your hand fell to the floor, tumbling on the carpet. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, patting your back, letting you drench his dress shirt with tears. His outfit was the least of his concerns at that moment. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

You don’t answer, pulling him in closer. He allows it.

Gavi cups your cheek in your hands, directing your gaze to look up at him. If you looked a mess at Mateo’s a few moments ago, you don’t know what you were now. Mascara staining your cheeks, eyes blown out and puffy, your nose bright red. Regardless, Gavi held steady eye contact with you, patiently waiting for you to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” you squeeze out in between inhales.

“No, no, no, don’t apologize. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”

“It’s just…” The back of your hand goes up to swipe your face dry. Gavi’s thumbs tenderly swipe underneath your eyelids, finishing the job for you. “...shit day. Nothing else.” You contemplated telling him the full story. But that was reserved for another time.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking back with puppy eyes. His other hand moves to brush the hair out of your face, running his fingers through your locks. You hummed in response and sat up straight, taking deep breaths to compose yourself.

“Fuck, I need to get some water,” you said to yourself. Gavi leaps off the couch and borderline sprints to the kitchen.

“Sit down. I’ll get it for you.” He came back not long after, a water bottle in one hand and a box of tissues in the other.

He remains silent as you blow your nose in the tissues and chug the contents of the bottle. He knows sometimes you don’t want someone to talk to when you’re sad, you just needed someone to be there with you.

“Sorry for getting your shirt wet.” Gavi breathes out, mumbling an it’s okay under his breath. He was tempted to ask about the series of events that led to your current state. Instead, he takes your hand in his and you almost melt into his touch.

You lean forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder and your heart rate finally slows. You can’t remember the last time you cried that hard, and now your head was throbbing, your eyes were dry, and your nose was stuffed. Gavi’s head leaning against yours helps you take your mind off the pain temporarily.

“Thanks for the gift. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

You have no idea how much you mean to me, he thinks to himself.

“Did you…” you began to speak, “... really mean what you said in that note?” Gavi looks down to find you looking back up at him through your eyelashes.

“Every word.”

Your faces were now inches apart, the distance so small that you can feel each other’s breaths on your face. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, fast and hot in the anticipation of something — anything. It felt like you were on fire and you might spontaneously combust at any moment.

Gavi’s hand moves to cup your cheek again. His touches send a flood of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His head tilts to the side, and he pulls you in closer ever so slowly. You felt the soft brushing of his lips against yours, and that’s when a loud crackle erupts in the sky, brightening the entire room.

You and Gavi pull back from each other at the noise. Your heads snap in the direction of your window, watching as radiant colors decorate the pitch-black sky, leaving trails of makeshift stars behind.

The New Year had arrived.

The thundering of fireworks and whistles in the distance persisted for some time, as you and Gavi sit in awkward silence, breathing heavily. The universe is a douchebag, Gavi thought to himself. That was the closest he had ever gotten to releasing the stream of emotions he had locked away for months in his heart.

“Oh no!” you exclaimed suddenly.

“What?”

“We didn’t eat the grapes!”

Gavi almost scoffed at the sentence. Your faces were burning red and your hearts throbbed in your ribcages, but a cultural tradition was the most of your concerns.

“Well, here’s to twelve months of bad luck for us,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Together?”

“Together.”

JANUARY 2 — THE ONE TIME

Two weeks had never flown by faster for Gavi. Mentally, he’s still in his parent’s house for the first time in six months — he blinks, and now his train ride back to Barcelona is four hours away.

His mom had been blowing up his phone since he woke up. She had told him for the nth time that day to not forget his ticket, to make sure his ID was within easy reach and asked him repeatedly if he needed any food for the journey back home. He tuned out every message. His brain had been consumed by one thought, and one thought only.

The feeling of your lips on his.

Even if it lasted for a millisecond, it drove Gavi to what seemed like insanity. When he bid his goodbyes, he sat in his car and stared at the steering wheel for fifteen minutes before he could drive off. When he washed his face that night, his fingers grazed over his lips to mimic the feeling. When he lay in bed, shutting his eyes to end the day, he was greeted with the memory of your face inches away from yours. He couldn’t escape you even in his dreams.

You, you, you. The thought had latched onto his senses and followed him the whole day. He looked at his living room sofa. You. He walked into the backyard and found fireworks boxes shoved in the dumpster. You. For the first time in his life, he took notice of how the fruit bowl in his parent’s kitchen contained grapes. You.

It was like the universe was taunting him at this point. It nudged him closer and closer to his heart’s desires at unfathomable speeds, only to materialize a brick wall blocking the way, smacking him in the face.

It was even worse that neither of you had spoken to each other since. There was no good morning text, no voicemail, and nothing planned for you to do today. After all, it was his last day in Sevilla anyway.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe the universe actually knew best and was only trying to protect Gavi from having his heart torn into pieces. As he sits in the aftermath of his failed confession, he was convinced he had sent you flying the other way. He had gotten to the very position he swore against ending up in.

Meanwhile, you were experiencing the same distress he was going through. You couldn’t even step into your living room the next morning, avoiding it like a crime scene. You typed and deleted paragraphs of messages over and over, the words in the back of your mind but never successfully transferring to the screen.

You felt like it was now or never. Today was the day he would go home. With your uni and his football season starting soon, you weren’t sure when you’d see him again. You were horrified at the thought of Gavi thinking you didn’t want him just as badly, returning home hand-in-hand with a supermodel after moving on.

The two of you sat kilometers apart, an invisible string entwining your beating hearts.

Gavi bid his final goodbyes to his family members. He grabbed his belongings and went inside the car that would take him to the train station. Leaning his head against the window, he gazes at the views of the city one last time.

Then, the driver stops at a red light, and your house enters his field of vision.

The anxious feeling in his gut slowly reappeared as his legs instinctively bounced up and down. You were probably inside. He wonders what you were doing. At this time of day, you were usually getting your chores done.

He thinks to himself, does your heart beat the same way when you think of him? Do you feel the same fluttering sensation in your stomach when he gets close to you? Did you go through the same agonizing twelve hours as he did?

Gavi’s friends had all either texted or called goodbyes through the phone. All of them, except for you. And he wasn’t about to leave until you did the same.

It was like he lost total control of his body. In the middle of traffic, Gavi jolted out of his seat and walked out on the street, rapidly telling the driver he’ll be gone for a minute. In between car honks and angry cyclists, he pushes his way through the commotion and sprints to your front door.

He banged on the door, sweat dampening his collar from running. His hair was a disheveled mess. He had no big speech planned. All he needed was you. He doesn't care if you decide to slam the door in his face — he was seconds away from imploding.

If the universe dared interrupted him then, he would fight it with his bare hands.

You opened the door nonchalantly. You weren’t expecting any guests, especially not Gavi.

“Gavi!” you greeted him. “Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“We need to talk.” The sentence wasn’t a suggestion. It was a demand.

For the third time that week, you found yourself alone in the living room with Gavi. Nothing good ever came out of situations like these.

You trailed shortly behind him as he walked into the living room, hands running through his hair. You had never seen him this distressed in your life.

“Gavi, what’s going—”

“I think we both know what’s going on.” Gavi takes a step closer to you.

Deep down, you did. You had been toying with the idea for months, but it had reached new heights last night. You should’ve known when you almost tried to kiss him, it wasn’t something you could just sweep under the rug. It would forever change your relationship with Gavi.

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t think I need to spell it out. I’ve held it in for months, and it hurts everyday not being able to say it to your face.” Another step.

He watches as your expression remains unchanging. Your eyes darted across his face, avoiding his piercing stare.

“I’ve made it so clear that there isn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do for you. And I’ve sat for months waiting for a response, for you to even notice.”

Months. He’d liked you for that long?

“What are you so afraid of?” his voice comes out breathy, almost desperate. He takes another step closer.

Sometimes you wish you could tell Gavi how much you hated him. How much you hated how you felt around him. You hated how he could bring out the depths of your heart that no one had ever seen. You hated how he would leave golden touches on all your aching wounds. You hated how easy it was to show your weakest sides to him.

He didn’t have to ask. You were already his, as he was already yours. And that fact left you petrified. It wasn’t the first time you had entrusted your heart in the hands of another, only for them to be the reason why it burst into a million pieces.

But Gavi wasn’t just any other man.

You finally build up the courage to look him right in the eye. He took half a step closer, standing apart from you at the shortest possible distance without coming into contact.

The recollections from the past week enter your thoughts as you gaze into the familiar hazel eyes. You tried one final time to suppress your true feelings, but it was getting increasingly difficult. Something inside you screamed to just let go.

Your voice trembles as you speak. “I’m not sure what you want here.”

“You. I want you.”

You inched closer to him, lips hovering for a few seconds before they barely grazed against each other. Pushing the slightest bit closer, you softly pressed the kiss you had been dying for on his lips.

You pull away just enough to look him in the eye. “Gav— ”

Before you could finish speaking, Gavi’s palms cupped your neck, closing the gap between you. Your hands naturally land on his chest as he pulls you in even deeper, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

A million unspoken words were exchanged between the two of you. A million words telling him you felt the exact same way about him, how you wanted him just as badly. Gavi’s taste on your tongue was otherworldly, and it only makes you realize just how badly you’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life.

Your hands on his chest scrunched the material of his top, begging for more. You felt Gavi’s fingers trail down your spine, running his palms over your figure before landing on your hips. Before you knew it, your back came in contact with one of the cold walls of the room.

If it wasn’t for Gavi’s hips on your waist, you would’ve sunk to your knees. Trails of fire ran up and down your skin as your breath passionately huffed into each other’s mouths, hands grabbing at anything they could to pull each other closer.

With one final drawn-out kiss, you pulled away from each other, foreheads resting and eyes still closed. Your jaws were slightly agape, processing the encounter.

Slowly, your eyelids flutter open and your vision clears. You almost had to pinch yourself to convince yourself that this was not one of your many dreams about Gavi — this was real life.

Your right palm comes up to cup his cheek and he melts into your touch. Breathless, you smiled up at him softly before you spoke.

“Didn’t take you for a great kisser, Gavira,” you teased. He flashes a smug grin in response.

“Why, thank-”

“Better than I even imagined.” You cut him off, silencing him with another peck. You had finally learned to let go.

MARCH 17 — EPILOGUE

“Gavi! Let me change in peace,” you said in between giggles as the boy continued to bury his nose deeper in the crook of your neck.

“But you’ve been changing for hours now,” he complained, pacing in circles in the closet of your apartment in Barcelona.

“Hey, it’s my birthday so I’m the one in charge here,” you retorted, flipping through your selection of dresses.

It seemed like Gavi was finally getting bored of tormenting you all day as he left you alone to make your choice. He peeked over your shoulder to get a good view of the selection, watching your movements attentively.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots an all too familiar garnet-colored dress.

“What about that one?” He points to it, his arm going over your shoulder. Taking the hanger in your hands, you lifted the dress so Gavi could get a better look.

“What, this one?” Gavi hums in agreement.

“I wore this last year, I can’t wear it again. Especially not on my birthday.” You returned the item of clothing to your wardrobe before comparing different outfits again.

“Which is exactly why I want you to wear it.”

“And why is that?”

“Because seeing you in that dress last year was the very first time I realized I loved you.” Your head turns in his direction, disbelief splattered across your face.

“You’re joking.”

“Am not! You should’ve seen the way you looked in that dress. Who wouldn’t start falling head over heels for you,” he spoke as he leaned into your ear.

“God, I never took you for such a cornball before we started dating.” Giggling at his comments, you held his face in your hands, pinching his cheeks.

“But you love me.”

You spin around to look at him, your fingertip landing on his nose. “I tolerate you.”

“Hm, last night didn’t seem like just tolerating to me- Ouch!” A playful slap landed on Gavi’s right shoulder. His hand goes to rub over the affected area. You laughed at his reactions, and the devious look in his eyes shows that he had something up his sleeve.

Suddenly, his hands grab your waist and he throws you over his shoulders, causing you to yelp.

“Oh my god! Put me down!” You tried to jerk out of his grip to no avail. The youngster marched into your bedroom and plopped you down on the bed. He planted his hands on either side of you, trapping you beneath him.

Gavi’s fingers poke at the sides of your body and you instantly knew what he had been planning all along.

“Stop! That tickles!” you laughed uncontrollably, wriggling under his touch as he giggles along to your reactions. “Gavi!”

“I won’t stop until you say it!”

“Okay, okay! Please!” He gets in a few more pokes before leaving you free. You had to catch your breath for a few seconds, chest heaving from laughing so hard.

You grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him in just close enough so that the tip of your noses brushed against each other.

Gavi could see the way your glossy eyes glimmered under the room lights, the way you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“I love you,” you breathed out, pulling him in.

#@s6lars #@s6lars: pg6 #football x y/n #football x reader #football x you #football imagines #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagines #gavi imagines #gavi fluff #gavi smut #pablo gavi headcanons #pablo gavi drabbles #gavi drabbles

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded! Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum.

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead.

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…”

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading, @thatsdarwinism, @satellitespidey

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vicious-vixxxen · 3 years

Text

SugarDaddy!Enji X SugarBaby!Male Reader <3

Not entirely sure where this came from, but couldn’t help myself once it started :3 nothing crazy, and kinda short, so apologies for that, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Prompt fills should be out later this month: In the midst of a move, so slow going getting fills, out, but hopefully soon <3 thanks for the patience, and the continued support. Much love to you guys! Enjoy :3 Sugar Daddy!Enji x Sugar Baby!Male Reader

(Sort of, kind of, it is but also not entirely the focus)

“What would you do without me, dad,” Fuyumi sighed, though her smile was palpable, even if Enji couldn’t see it- as she’d stepped behind him to lint roll his dinner jacket. Enji adjusting his watch, and catching the time, puffing his chest up a bit as he shooed his daughter back, and glanced at himself in the full length mirror once more, briefly. Enji would lie down and accept the sweet, bitter kiss from the grim reaper, before he ever told his daughter just where he’d found his date from. But, and as hard as it was to so much as admit it, Enji did know when to wave the white flag of defeat, and after three hours of trying to pick his own outfit, he’d shuffled off to her room and mumbled the bare minimum about having a date from an app tonight. Fuyumi had freaked out for all of ten minutes, before growing startlingly serious, and rifling through his closet for articles of clothing Enji had no idea were even there. And now...well, he looked more presentable than he had in ages. Granted, his wardrobe consisted of his hero suit ninety nine percent of the time, but still. Bidding Fuyumi goodbye was a whole other ordeal, but soon enough, Enji found himself- or rather, his driver, pulling up along the curb of the restaurant he’d asked you to. Not even a moment to gather himself, or suck in a few lungful's of crisp evening air, before his eyes landed on you. Your dazzling smile so bright, Enji had to keep himself from squinting, as you hurried over, and without so much as a hello first, threw your arms over the hero’s broad shoulders, and brought him down into a tight, warm hug. Enji squeezed back awkwardly, though your cologne was mouthwatering, and the feel of someone wanting to be in his arms almost made the older man dizzy, as he pulled back, and smoothed out the front of his jacket. Just to busy his hands, as you eyed him up, and your smile grew softer. More intimate. “It’s so nice to meet, finally. In person.” You laughed, gesturing for Enji to follow you to the front door, as there was already a man waiting to escort you back to your table. Well, Enji thought. Here goes nothing.

“You’re nervous,” you pointed out quietly- gently, reaching across the table to lay one of your hands over Enji’s much larger one: meeting the older man's gaze as he stopped jiggling his leg, and focused his full attention on you. “Observant,” Enji huffed, though not unkindly, as he took a deep breath, and reached up with his free hand to tug at the neck of his sweater. Cheeks flush, both from the heat within himself, and his nerves. You were much more...handsome? Pretty? Drop dead gorgeous?- than your profile pictures had given you credit for, and even then you were one of the most beautiful specimens he’d ever laid his eyes on, so that was really saying something. “I try to be,” you laughed, bringing your other hand around to sip at your champagne, before laying your glass-chilled hand over the other covering Enji’s, to clasp them on either side- just holding his hand, and smiling. Awkwardness creeping back up Enji’s neck as his throat worked around the words he couldn’t quite find. “I could talk, if you’d like? And you can interject whenever you’d like. No pressure to, if you’re not ready. I could probably talk enough for the both of us.” You we’re trying to cut the man some slack, bless his big confused heart. Your online chats hadn’t divulged much, though you did get the gist from Enji. Bad relationship with his children. Not too close to anyone of his own age. He was lonely. And so were you. You were also broke as fuck, but all thoughts of monetary value flew out the window the second you hugged the man when you’d arrived. Seen the restaurant he’d asked you to; and the private balcony dinner he’d arranged. Enji was trying so hard, and it made your heart beat a little too fast. Your smile almost too bright. “That...would be preferable, thank you,” Enji replied gruffly- though he cleared his throat after like he’d done it by accident. It only made you smile wider “Of course. A very considerate daddy you are,” you teased, referencing the website you met on jokingly- or at least, half jokingly- though the way Enji’s blush deepened had you stuttering around your first few sentences- glancing down suddenly as Enji turned his hand palm upward- holding your hands in return, as you laughed, suddenly, and began speaking smoothly. Squeezing the man’s hands in silent thanks, as he listened intently to you rambling on about your life. Where you went to school, what instrument you played, your favorite movies, and books. He really /listened/, grunting every so often to show you he was- and even interjecting with questions every so often; Enji really wanted to know about you. He wanted to listen. You’d never quite had anyone like that before. Not even close friends who cared enough to really listen to you. Your chest felt tight suddenly as you began touching on your most recent life happenings. Pausing slowly, voice getting quiet as you held Enji’s gaze, you lifted the older man’s hand to press a kiss to his palm. Snickering into it as Enji’s flames burst across his face at the contact. “Ah-Ahem. What uh...what’s that for?” He questioned, voice husky as he turned away slightly. Embarrassed at his flames for the first time since he was a pre-teen. “Just thanks, for listening,” you admitted with a shrug, kissing his palm again, even softer this time. Enji turned then, pure honesty in his gaze as he gathered his courage to speak clearly, “I could listen to you speak...for hours, if I’m being honest. You have..a lovely voice.” “Ah,” You nodded, your cheeks just as flushed as the hero’s as you swirled your champagne in its glass gently. Missing completely the way Enji’s face fell, and he withdrew his hands from atop the table, and back into his lap. The rest of the night went pretty much the same, though you noticed Enji seemed slightly more reserved, and gruff than before. Still just as attentive, still nearly mute, just more...withdrawn. Less open then he’d become as you spoke. It wasn’t until the date had come to an end, and he was escorting you out of the restaurant, and to the car he’d called to take you home, did you realize why. “Here you go.” Enji spoke quietly, yet clearly, crowding you in slightly so the valet couldn’t see the wad of cash he was holding out to you. Crisp bills neatly folded into a money clip, engraved with Enji’s initials. “Oh.” You’d almost forgotten by this point that this was sort of part of it. Or...well, it was the whole point, really. Or had been. “That’s….quite a lot of money,” You thought aloud, frowning at the way Enji’s brows drew down tightly, and he thumped the money into your chest gently. “I apologize for the evening. Please, just take it. It’s triple the amount we originally spoke of. Compensation for the poor company I’ve been.” You froze, staring between Enji’s eyes, that wouldn’t meet your own, and the cash being held out to you, Enji’s grip so tight on it his knuckles were white. /Oh/. So that’s what he thought. Earlier in the evening, your reaction to his sincerity, he’d read into it wrong. ….Sweet old man. “Silly daddy,” You sighed, smiling despite the situation- reaching up to tug out one solitary bill from the stack, before pressing Enji’s fist back into his own chest with one hand- the other snaking up and around the man’s neck, to ease him down to your level gently. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a more wonderful time with anyone before in my whole life. You listened, and saw me. And only me. For hours. I don’t think I can properly describe how absolutely wonderful that was. Truly. Silly,” You laughed again, watching the way Enji’s shoulders hunched, and tensed, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face, before he settled on bewilderment it seemed. The tiniest flames danced across his cheeks as you leaned up on your toes, brushing noses briefly, before capturing Enji’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss. Hand carding up and into the soft hair at the nape of Enji’s neck, scraping your nails through his scalp gently as your lips began to move against one another. Unsure, and hesitant, before that quickly melted away, leaving only the deepest desire, and want. A soft, needy noise leaving your mouth, that Enji swallowed up happily. Panting into your face as he pulled away, breath a wash of champagne, and the chocolate cake you’d both had for dessert. “Tip...for your driver,” You breathed, slightly dazed as you fell back into the car, feet firmly on the ground now- tapping your pocket where you’d slid the bill from the stack he’d held out to you at first. “I...should get going. But if I don’t have a text from you with the details of our next date when I get home, i’ll be one very disappointed boy,” You admitted quietly, cupping Enji’s cheek briefly- thumb sliding across his plump bottom lip, before you opened the back door of the car, and slid in. Wishing Enji a goodnight, before the door was shut, and you were being driven off towards home. Enji checked the time briefly as you pulled away, and once more when he finally was able to get his legs working again- nearly an hour had passed, in which he’d tried and failed multiple times to collect himself. Had that really just happened? The feel of his lips twisting up into a smile felt strange, and foreign for the pro hero. And as he walked home, to allow himself a chance to breathe finally, he began to laugh. Cupping his own face, and touching his lips, an incredulous laugh bubbled from deep within him as he threw his head back and allowed it to overtake him. Smiling in a way he hadn’t in...so, so long. Pulling his phone out, he immediately began texting you, checking your schedule for the next night, before suggesting going to a play. A quiet, private balcony just for the two of you. Close seats. Beautiful music. He could watch your reactions under the bright stage lights. It sounded fantastic. A text from Fuyumi chimed into his phone as he was nearly home, and still smiling like a love struck teenager. So? How was it!?-FT Enji sighed heavily, catching himself in a nearby shop window- looking too happy to be real, and recalling your words from earlier. Wonderful.-ET It was wonderful, Fuyumi.-ET

#bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x y/n #enji todoroki x male reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki x y/n #endeavor x reader #endeavor x male reader #endeavor x y/n #endeavor #enji todoroki #viciousvixxxen

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clairecrive · 3 years

Note

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fluff #nikolai lanstov blurb

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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

1K notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing vii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 4, 627

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Despite being friends with three (well, now four) people on the football team—you didn’t fancy attending football games at all. It was highly unlike the usual scene you were comfortable with. It was loud, rowdy and people didn’t understand the concept of personal space when they’d shove and push others aside just to get a better glimpse of the players on the field.

Yet, you attended every single one of the football games—and you were a familiar enough face that the coach smiles at you when you hover outside the changing rooms; a simple request from the captain himself.

You’re a little shocked at yourself at the fact that you had no idea who Namjoon was prior to his introduction. He was the captain of the current football team, which apparently, throughout your college’s history—brought the most wins ever. And, he was also well-known that lecturers applauded him for his impeccable work-to-life balance.

Somehow, the divulgence of your own thoughts makes you frown. Because perhaps you were truly anti-social. You weren’t even acquainted with common school affairs in spite of being apart of the student council.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

You don’t dwell too much on your thoughts because you’re unable to, not when the door slams open and bodies of college men pour out with large shouts and their padded shoulders—looking very much prepared for their game.

The anxiety settles into the pit of your stomach when you realise you stick out like a sore thumb. The jeans and white top you were wearing was quite a typical outfit to wear to a game, with the addition of ironically—a baseball jacket. But when you were definitely smaller than the footballers; it was hard not to feel out of place.

Especially when they look you over before continuing out to the field. While you attended games before, you were never asked to meet in the changing rooms. Jimin and Taehyung knew well enough not to ask you, and Jungkook … well. You were always his dirty little secret, weren’t you?

And you see Jungkook first, grinning like a madman when another footballer brings him into a headlock and hollers something you assume is their hype-cheer.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Things were meant to have been settled, but the tight feeling in your chest when you look at him only reminds you that some things were hard to erase.

Before you can look away, Jungkook spots you—and he pushes the arms of his teammate off ever so slightly before turning to him and muttering a few words before he’s stalking towards you.

Your eyes widen, definitely not expecting him to pay you any mind.

“You’re here?” He furrows his brows.

You clear your throat, and you realise navigating a conversation with him after what’s transpired is much harder than you expected it to be. The fact that he was so casual about it when he left you with a kiss on your forehead makes you even more conflicted.

“I am.” You mumble. “I told you, remember?”

Jungkook blinks as if he remembers something, and his expression hardens ever so slightly before he’s schooling his features.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “I knew that. Just didn’t know you’d be … here.”

Here was probably referring to standing outside the changing rooms, and you can’t help but flush at the declaration.

“Um, yeah. Namjoon—” Before you can finish your sentence, you see the captain heading towards you with a large grin; looking over Jungkook for a brief moment.

“You’re here!” His words are exactly the same as Jungkook’s, but it evokes a different set of emotions in your chest.

You smile as sincerely as you can, which is proven difficult when you can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“I am.” And you repeat the same thing you said to Jungkook. It feels odd, but you push the feelings aside. “Good luck, you.”

You offer a small punch to his shoulder, an awkward attempt at supporting him and you almost apologise but Namjoon smiles even wider.

His hand reaches out to your hair, gently patting it as he looks at you fondly. You don’t think anyone’s ever treated you so … tenderly before, not upfront and after one meeting at least. And you’re definitely flustered.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here.” His dimples are on full show when he looks down at you with a kind gaze.

You clear your throat and look away, hoping the dim lights didn’t amplify the blush on your cheeks.

“Of course. We have that exhibition next to look forward to if all else goes South.” You grin cheekily up at him, words still soft.

You hope that your joke doesn’t rub him the wrong way, and it doesn’t because he snorts in response. All while Jungkook is silent.

“That’s a win itself, isn’t it?” He says smoothly, and your eyes widen at his blatant—or at least you think—flirting.

And before you can splutter a response, Jungkook is nudging Namjoon’s arm with his shoulder, the movement slightly rougher with his shoulder pads in place.

“We gotta go, Cap,” Jungkook says stiffly.

Namjoon doesn’t realise the hostility in his tone, but you do. And you frown ever so slightly, but you cover it up when Namjoon looks over at you with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll see you after the game?” He asks, eyes lighting up.

Your lips tilt upwards and you nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon jogs off first, not before grabbing his protective gear as Jungkook lingers ever so slightly, stuttering in his feet as you have the vision of his back towards you.

You’re about to head towards the bleachers, a spot that Namjoon purposefully reserved for you with help of his coach; but Jungkook turns around and his face is hesitant.

“Will you …” He swallows as you raise an eyebrow at his uncertainty. “Will you cheer for me?”

The question is odd, especially when you know that he’s aware that you were here for Namjoon. Usually, that would imply that you were rooting for him. But, you’ve never been able to say no to Jungkook. Not even when you want him to feel the same hurt you’ve felt.

“What friends are for, right?” You mumble, eyes darting to the ground for a second until you look back up at him again.

What you don’t say is that friends don’t do the things we did, or that there was no manual to teach you how to navigate the throes of your relationship after everything that’s happened. Nor do you tell Jungkook that you’re always cheering him on, but you can’t do it outwardly. Not tonight. Not for a while, too.

Jungkook’s face falls obscurely, but he forces a tight smile before grabbing his protective gear too.

“I’ll look for you,” Jungkook says.

Then he’s off, with a squeeze to your shoulder that leaves your heart feeling a lot heavier.

You ended up sitting next to the school photographer, who you now know as Yena. Prior to this, you’ve heard the student reporter club have a few intense individuals apart of them—word you heard from Yoongi, the President himself—and he was already as intimidating as one could get. But there was Yena, who essentially made people cower in fear when they’d make eye contact with her.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing she asks when you slide into your seat. Her tone isn’t condescending, neither was it purposely made to make you feel uncomfortable. Rather, she asked it in a rather bored tone—as if there were better things she could be doing.

“Um.” You squeak.

Yena rolls her eyes, “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off despite my grotesque appearance. Ever heard of a conversation starter?”

You blink.

“You’re very pretty.” You say softly.

Yena narrows her eyes at you for what seems like forever as you clear your throat. Then, she snorts before patting you on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean objectively ugly, sweetheart.”

The tilt of her lips make your ears flush and you never found yourself downright intimidated by someone, but there was something about her that made you want to listen to her.

“O-Oh.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, _____. Has anyone ever told you that?” She emphasises her point with a tilt of her head.

“N-Not really …” You mumble.

She sighs as she kicks her feet on top of the railings in front of her while her eyes follow the line of footballers that pour onto the field, already moving towards a group huddle.

Her camera is already in her hands when she snaps the shot like second nature, before plopping back into her seat.

“Well, you are. People are gonna eat you alive, you know?” She says pointedly.

You fiddle with your fingers before you find the courage to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?” You wonder out loud with furrowed brows.

Yena scoffs before turning to look at you with a blank expression. And it’s the worst part in you that makes you think that you’ve said something wrong.

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpans. “Girl who made honours three years in a row? First female student council president? Lecturers pet? Curve-setter? The list goes on, really.”

You flush as you turn your head away.

“I didn’t mean …” You mutter.

She waves you off. “You don’t have to sound so guilty about it. You’re smart and you’re capable. Own it.” She shrugs.

You blink up at her with wide eyes, and for the first time; she properly looks at you and your surprised expression.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

When a whistle blows, the game has somehow started and you have half the mind to begin cheering like the rest of the crowd. But the awkward part of you remains rooted in position.

“So.” Yena leans in with a grin on her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

It’s … odd. Purely because you’ve never spoken to her before and you’ve briefly heard about her in passing when you communicate with Yoongi on pastoral affairs. And for someone to speak to you so freely and casually, like you’ve been friends for years—feels nice.

And it’s probably also because you didn’t have any girl friends that you could really trust. People on campus were … they were mean and they usually wanted something from you, whether it was to get to one of your friends or get insights on events so they’d get a boost on their reputation.

“Earth to _____?” She drawls.

You snap your head towards her and your ears turn red once again.

“There’s isn’t … any guy.” You confess.

Yena snorts as if she doesn’t believe you.

“Really now?” Her grin approaches a smile when she rests her chin on her palm. “You know not just anyone sits here, right?”

You shrug. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She blinks, then leans back before kicking one leg across her other.

“Photographer pros. Or cons. Especially if you consider watching disgusting men sweat and chase after balls is something to be grateful for.” She rolls her eyes.

You laugh when she complains, and it’s likely the first time you’ve relaxed your shoulders around her.

“That does sound kind of gross.”

She nods her head as if to say right, before offering you a cheeky grin.

Then, her eyes zero onto the field, then back to your face—and eventually back to the field before she hops off her seat once again; waving her camera to signal you that she was going to carry out her duties.

You think Yena’s cool. A little intense, and kind of scary—but a nice person nevertheless. Maybe you were a blind optimist that saw the good in everyone, but there was something about her that you really liked. The kind of person you wish you could become.

The cheers get immensely louder, especially when you note that Jungkook’s scored a goal—his beaming expression displayed on the big screen while you hear girls and guys alike cheering his name.

It’s times like this where you’re reminded of how different you were from him. While he received praise and approval from the masses and was born to be loved by them. You were quite the opposite; the cheerer and the supporter but never quite the one receiving it.

His eyes skim the crowd, and you can see from the screen that his brows furrow ever so slightly. But he’s quick to return to his groove, fist-bumping a teammate along the way.

You sigh because even when you weren’t intentionally looking for him it’s like your heart only wants you to see what’s familiar. And funnily enough, the hurt is familiar too.

In the middle of it all, you try your best to smile—and throw in a small whoop on your own, hoping to blend in but be present enough to be heard.

Yena returns only when it’s half-time, her own body covered in sweat while she huffs, slapping a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“God. You’d think they’d slow down after fifteen minutes but nooo. They have to go flex on their fragile masculinities because they think growling and ripping off their shirts is peak alpha male character.” Yena mutters and it’s the first thing you hear from her.

You offer her a sympathetic smile before digging into your bag and pulling out a handkerchief, one that you always carry around.

“Here.” You smile at her toothily.

Yena eyes the fabric sceptically before looking at your face and back to the handkerchief.

“You sure?”

You nod your head, jutting out your hand once more to emphasise your point.

“Ah. I can see why Namjoon nabbed you up.” Yena coos, ruffling your hair as your eyes widen.

“H-How—?”

“How did I know? Well besides the fact that my job is to literally stick with the team and capture moments and make them look pretty—I’m nosey.” Yena shrugs and your face pales. “Oh, and I saw you guys at the changing room too.”

If she saw … that meant—

“Thought you were with the meathead Jeon for a moment.” Yena snorts.

Your eyes dart down to your lap, and Yena picks up on your silence immediately. But unlike the conventional person; despite her curiousity, she respected your privacy more. So she doesn’t, she just offers you a smile and a nudge to your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Yena assures, sighing as the voices of the footballers fill your area as they come up for refreshment. “He’s nice.” You weren’t sure who she was referring to so you just nod.

“Yena—pass me a bottle!” A boy calls, and you half expect her to do so, but instead, she delivers him one better—a middle finger.

“Get it your self you dickwad!” Yena calls back.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to look at her, completely unbothered when the footballer shoots daggers at her nonchalant figure.

“Men. Think you always owe them something.” She scoffs.

You find yourself unconsciously nodding your head, and once again Yena recognises the gesture but doesn’t mention anything.

Instead, she turns towards you and levels you with a wide grin of her own.

“You’re cool. We should hang out.”

The declaration makes your eyes widen even more and you realise how much you’ve fumbled and made yourself look … stiff the entire time you were attempting to converse with Yena. But she seemed to be unbothered, and the thought makes you excited.

“We should?” You parrot with a squeak.

She nods and you’re still finding it hard to process the fact that she’d brought that up out of the blue.

You weren’t bad company. But you were … you.

“You’re like Ms Bona Fide.” Yena tuts. “People these days are either out to please or to receive.”

You furrow your brows.

“And I’m … not?” You say softly.

“You’re present.” Yena shrugs and throws you an easy-going smile.

God. She was so cool.

Namjoon scores the final goal.

You expect him to call the hangout off because, well, he’d closed the game and he was the captain. It was only normal that he’d want to celebrate.

So when Yena nudges your shoulders while your head is bent and focused on your mobile device, you slowly looked up with furrowed brows to see her cocking her head to the side with a knowing grin on her face.

And you see Namjoon, out of his gear and in a plain t-shirt and sweats while he waves at you.

You can’t help but gape at him.

“I see you’ve surrendered to good company instead of a zoo.” Yena greets Namjoon first with a snort.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you gauge that they’re at least well-acquainted. Acquainted enough that Namjoon subtly tries to flick her off, but you catch the gesture as soon as it comes.

“Promises are promises.” Namjoon shrugs as if he wasn’t aware that you were still gaping at him. Mouth open like a fish out of the water.

“Well—be nice, captain.” Yena whistles, throwing her camera into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before she turns to look at you, a gentle nudge with her shoulder to yours as she levels you with an intentional look in her eyes.

“Don’t start any fights, Yena.” Namjoon gently chides, but his tone is joking.

Yena waves him off, then waves at you one last time, leaning down to whisper something into your ear that has you flushing.

“Tell me how it goes when we hang out.”

And she leaves you with a keen sense of excitement on the prospect of a new friend like her to look forward to hanging out with.

Namjoon looks over at you, and gently reaches for the tote bag you’ve slung over your shoulder as he tugs it off you with a soft pull.

“Let me.” His smile is all teeth and dimpled grins when you reluctantly let him take your bag from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyes attempting to look at him but his gaze is so focused on yours that you find it difficult to make eye contact.

“We’ve got an exhibition to go to, don’t we?”

You nod your head enthusiastically as he chuckles, allowing you to lead the way as you find a little prep in your steps. It was nice. Having a friend like Namjoon.

“Captain’s not coming?” Yugyeom groans, ruffling his hair with a towel as the rest of the footballers filter out of the changing room.

Jimin snorts in response. “No. He’s got a date.” The emphasis on the word date is obvious in the immature sense, evoking wide eyes as responses.

“He bailed on us for some pussy?!” Yugyeom cries.

Jungkook has to clench his fists by his side when he hears how his teammate casually referred to you as just some pussy. You weren’t just … that.

“Watch your tone,” Jimin growls, and Jungkook’s thankful that Jimin was more of the confrontational type and didn’t allow shit like this to slide easily. Especially when it came to you. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widened before gawking at the blonde boy.

“You mean Namjoon is going on a date with _____?” The rest of the footballers murmur in response, possibly out of confusion. “How did they—doesn’t she not … date?”

Jimin sighs, already ready with a response on the tip of his tongue but Jeonghan, the keeper interjects.

“Wait, I was under the impression that she and Jeon were a thing?”

At the mention of his name tangled with yours, Jungkook, who has been relatively silent throughout, freezes as his hands stop rummaging through his duffel bag while he tries to ignore the inquisitive stares he’s receiving from his teammates.

“W-What?” Jungkook stutters caught off guard.

Yugyeom narrows his eyes at the boy, while Jimin silently observes with an unreadable expression.

“Now that you mention it …” He trails off, head tilting upwards as if he was deep in thought. “I did always see the two of them alone with each other.”

Jungkook clears his throat as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says stiffly and he hopes it’s believable, despite his hoarse voice. “Friends hang out.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Or she’s a two-timer.”

This time, Jungkook can’t keep his face neutral.

“Talk about her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He growls to the other boy, whose eyes widen in response.

“I was kidding—” He raises his hands in defense but Jungkook is shoving the remainder of his belongings into his duffel bag before hauling it over his shoulder and storming out of the room, ears burning in both frustration and anger.

“You don’t joke about this type of shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath right as he leaves the rest of the members brewing with confused expressions as they look at one another with concerned expressions.

Namjoon, as expected, is a museum enthusiast. That much you could assess when he was excitedly chirping about how much he appreciated all types of art, abstract, modern and contemporary and vintage—you name it and he could likely give you a break down of the nuances behind styles and techniques.

He is also great company. Namjoon is a comfortable line between involved and chivalrous, never pushing farther than what you were able to offer but engaging you in insightful discussions that you found yourself being intrigued by.

While you expected more … forward gestures, Namjoon is respectful and you’re surprised but not really. He was mannered encompassed into human form.

So, when the security guard informs you that the exhibition was over and that the two were the last guests in the hall—the two of you reluctantly had to bring your night to an end.

“That was fun,” Namjoon says once the two of you exit the hall, just two figures in the night who have thousands of words to say about the masterpieces you’ve witnessed.

“Honestly, I was already looking forward to it but seeing the pieces the art students curated in person was just another type of euphoria.” You confess.

Namjoon nods in agreement. “I totally agree. You can just tell that they’ve really dedicated all their free time to the work they’ve displayed.”

“Art is beautiful, isn’t it?” You mumble, eyes looking back to the museum as you grin up at Namjoon who’s already looking at you.

“Yeah.” He breathes, and the way he’s looking at you under the dim moonlight makes you irrevocably flustered. “Beautiful.”

You clear your throat as you shift on your heels, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t too apparent. The night was still wondrous, and you feel a type of comfort in Namjoon that you haven’t felt in a very long time. But there’s still a lingering thought in the substandard part of your mind that reminds you of doe-eyes and a bunny smile.

“Thank you for your time, Namjoon.” You say shy, fiddling with your thumbs.

When you find the courage to look at his face, he’s already beaming at you.

“No. Thank you.” He reassures. “I know you’re super busy so for you to find time out of your schedule to hang with a virtual stranger really means a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen, but then your face neutralises as you flush.

“I’m not that busy …” You mumble.

Namjoon chuckles. He doesn’t even snort or offer a sarcastic remark in response. He just acknowledges it with a kind smile and doesn’t comment further.

He’s different from what you’re used to. A challenge. A burst of rebellion that loved to roll remarks off his tongue.

You don’t want to think of him just yet.

“Regardless. You’re here. And I’m grateful.”

You nod your head lamely, clutching your bag into your chest (after relentlessly whining to Namjoon to allow you to hold it yourself when you felt a little useless).

“I should—I should head back.” You cock your thumb towards the direction of your apartment.

Immediately, Namjoon steps forward and is ready to head the same way you are.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“I’m not asking this time, ______.” He frowns.

You snap your lips shut. Though you did feel a little bad, it was late and the rational part of you knew that it was best if Namjoon walked you home.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Before you can begin walking, he tugs you by the elbow so gently, but firm enough for you to nearly stumble into his chest.

And he’s so tall, so you’re peering up at him with wide eyes as you gauge his nervous expression.

“I-I’m sorry if this is a little forward but—” Namjoon clears his throat. “W-Well I think—I really think you’re nice. And great. Like—good company, you know? So I’d r-really—I’d enjoy—”

You blink at him as he attempts to find his words.

“Namjoon.” You whisper gently, tugging the hem of his shirt.

At your gesture, his mind blanks but he remembers that you’re still looking up at him with a confused gaze.

“Okay. Fuck.” He whines as a giggle escapes your throat when he peers at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m not usually this much of a mess. You just make me nervous.”

“O-Oh.” You breathe, “I do?”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know if it was obvious but I’m kind of into you.” He says softly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

You don’t expect it, not at all. So you can only muster gawking at him at his sudden confession.

“And you don’t need to—you don’t need to say anything about it. We can pretend like I didn’t just confess to you. We can just be friends.” He rambles, eyes wide. “I just wanted to let you know … yeah. So I really hope we can still continue to hang out even though you might think I’m a creep and I really didn’t offer to walk you home because I had intentions. Really just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You continue looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. Because you’ve never been on this end before. The one receiving the confession. You’ve never really given a confession either, and you try to suppress the bitter memories of the confession you tried to give Jungkook that wasn’t verbal but with your presence.

With you giving up certain parts of yourself for him so he could see you.

“Please say something.” Namjoon chuckles nervously.

“I—…” You choke. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We can pretend like I didn’t just say that.” He winces.

You shake your head. “No. No. It’s fine, Namjoon. Really.” You reassure him gently. “I really appreciate it … I just didn’t … expect it.” You finish lamely.

“You’re a very interesting person,” Namjoon tells you, lips twitching in an attempt to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

Interesting? You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone call you interesting before. Not outright, at least.

“I’m really not.” You say sadly.

Namjoon furrows his brows but doesn’t reach out to you further, his hands still remaining limp by his sides.

“Hey.” His voice calls out. “You are. You’re definitely one of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life.”

You blink.

“T-Thank you.”

He waves you off, gesturing towards where you gestured towards earlier.

“Shall we?”

And somehow, Namjoon has a way of making everything feel easy. Like a temporary space for you to feel safe, to feel wanted.

So why doesn’t your heart flutter?

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timetraveltodystopia · 2 years

Text

Stray Kids current energies - February shufflemancy reading

♡ Shufflemancy reading - 25/02/22 - 26/02/22

Disclaimer: I’m a beginner with tarot and my readings could be correct and could be not. I am still learning so please take everything with a grain of salt. These readings are for fun and for entertainment purposes only <3

This is all alleged. I don’t want to hurt any idol or send them hate.

Bang Chan

Stranger - Covey

Oh I've been a stranger Sleeping with you in my bed I wish I could save you From the thoughts up in my head

Bang Chan has been seeing a person, and on and off relationship that isn't going to last.

Lee Know

Snakes x elephants - Fana Hues

Snakes and elephants they crowd the room No room for comfort Lost all time to stop and lick my wounds Nor would I want to Pride is turning blue black My nigga how you do that So far from where we was at

Lee Know getting rid of old traumas and problems that used to cloud his mind. Feeling uncomfortable with his emotions will try to avoid toxic people that were part of his past and learn to not approach them in the future.

Changbin

More mess (Hugel remix) - Kungs

The hard times have been the longest battle for me (oh oh, hey yo) But freedom's inside, it's time to take what I need (oh oh, hey yo)

After hard working his ass off and doing what you have to do to be an idol, Changbin feels free after reaching his peak of fame (Well during his peak of fame)

Hyunjin

I fall in love too easily - Caleb Belkin

I fall in love too easily I fall in love too fast I fall in love too terribly hard For love to ever last

As the song says Hyunjin has fallen in love and no one can change that feeling.

Han Jisung

Marching into the dark - John Legend

All of the greatest The greatest of all We're chasing their fading star Who'll be the latest The latest to fall? We're marching into the dark

Jisung is going hermit mode and will try to find answers to his own questions. Introspection is what he needs.

Felix

Money - Michael Kiwanuka

Money, money, is it really love? Money, will it be love? Oh, man, again, I swear Money, money, I feel it killing love Money, will it be love? Oh, man, again, I swear

Felix has been wasting his money on things that he doesn't need for pleasure in a short amount of time. He is realizing that he doesn't need to do this to bring happiness to his life.

Seungmin

Apple - Julia Michaels

Kissing in summer, so innocent In your apartment on the weekends Lift up my dress to see where you've been That's what I want and that's where I am Bite off an apple right from your fridge Come here and taste it right off my lips Spill your emotions into my hands That's what I want

Seungmin is another person who has a partner. The kind of summer love that never ends, genuine and pure. A long-term relationship that is going to last.

I.N.

Toothache - Topaz Jones

Buzzin' for you, honey bee I need your sugar rush Promise, baby, I won't bite I'm fiending for your love Buzzin' for you, honey bee I need your sugar rush (Need your sugar rush) Promise, baby, I won't bite I'm fiending for your love

I.N. has a special someone in his life. He perceives his life is brighter and more colorful with them and doesn't want this love to stop.

This changes over time. Everyone has free will and vibrations change. Hope you like this reading <3

#kpop tarot #kpop readings #tarot community #tarotblr #stray kids tarot #tarot readings #bang chan tarot #lee know tarot #changbin tarot #hyunjin tarot #han jisung tarot #felix tarot #seungmin tarot #i.n. tarot

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maplerin99821 · 3 years

Note

hey if you accept requests can you make a fluffy fanfic about Lucifer and Mammon being close? like that pic that you reblogged?

Hello, Anon! Omg, sorry for the long wait!!! 🥺💖 I was busy with irl stuff but AAAA I have finished the fluffy fic! I'm sorry if it didn't reach your expectations.😓 It was a bit difficult to write 'cause I'm not really used to writing fluff.😂 But I hope you like it!! (Also, I didn't base this fic off to the art that I had reblogged, but it's still a fluff fic!! It's fan art, and I think I need permission to write a fic about it.😅 So here's fluffy fanfic of Lucifer and Mammon being close.) Thanks for being the first person to request me haha. Please enjoy this. _ A Day To Relax. [ 1 & 2 ]

Mammon's back hurts; he did the best he could to organized the library at RAD. Maybe he deserves this, or maybe not. He sighs for the tenth time of the day.

There's nothing he can do about it because this was his light punishment for skipping classes again. Although he hates doing chores for his discipline, he needed to be a good big brother for Asmodeus.

Mammon decided to skip his classes so that he could be there to support his little brother. Everyone was busy at that time, with upcoming exams and projects, not one of the brothers could make time for Asmo. The latter understood. It's not like he could force his brothers to watch the stageplay with his classmates. But when he saw Mammon among the crowd with his D.D.D out, he almost cried while performing on stage.

(He felt a bit guilty when he found out that Mammon, believe it or not, skipped classes to watch him.)

Mammon stretched his back when he felt his phone vibrating. He took it out from his back pocket to receive a message from Asmodeus.

[Hey.

I just wanted to say thanks for supporting me there.

This beautiful brother of yours is going to treat you tomorrow! <3]

His lips cracked a smile. He feels soft and loved. Mammon chuckled as he took his bag, ready to go home. He had finished organizing anyway; he preferred to play on his phone for a while.

He started walking to the hallways; almost all of the demons were back to their places already. Some are doing their part-time jobs, and some are being lazy at home (Preferably Belphegor.)

"Mammon."

In instinct, Mammon quickly turned around. He already knows that deep voice.

"Are ya gonna assign me another chore to do?" Mammon quickly questioned his older brother, who was leaning into the student council's door frame.

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly annoyed already. He pushed back his hair and fixed the wrinkles of his uniform.

"No. Well, if you want to do more. Your choice." With that answer, Mammon crossed his arms, a pout on his face— ready to complain. But Lucifer stopped him.

"Remember that cafe I showed you the other day? Let's go there, my treat." Lucifer stated; he laughed when he saw Mammon froze.

"I don't believe you." His eyes narrowed, looking for a flaw in Lucifer's face and words. "Are ya' truly Lucifer? What if you're a ghost possessing my big bro's body?"

Mammon intentionally loudened his gasp; his eyes were wide, one hand placed on his heart, while the other was grasping on his hair. He paused for a dramatic effect.

Lucifer brought his hand up quickly to pinch his brother's cheek. "You idiot. It's me, of course." He proceeded to ruffles Mammon's hair. "Come on, let's go before I change my mind and give you another chore as punishment. Maybe you could clean up the laboratory next time for a month."

He whispered the last part, but Lucifer knew Mammon could hear him, making the second-born whine.

The two exited the school, taking a detour through the streets.

"I thought yah were gonna give me another punishment." Mammon broke out the silence; Lucifer hummed before replying.

"Why would I? I only gave you a chore for skipping classes, but you being there for Asmodeus? You don't deserve punishment for that."

Mammon stared at the far distance. The cafe they were going to has a nearby sea, and he smiled at his elder brother's words; he enjoyed these simple moments between them. (They're rare. They don't hang out anymore like they used to do in the Celestrial realm. That's why, as much as possible, Mammon cherished these moments.)

Mammon could say that he's close with Lucifer, but not like before— It's weird. Lucifer is his older brother, his family. But as time passed by, Mammon started to get nervous whenever he had done something wrong. He doesn't want to anger and disappoint Lucifer. (But sometimes, he can't help it— he misses his big brother's attention.)

"We're here," Lucifer said. Mammon followed the latter's gaze and immediately formed star-shaped eyes.

"WOAH!! I didn't expect it to be this cool! I only saw the picture but never expected that it would be this big!"

Mammon kept looking around the newly built cafe. The cafe was a bit massive, with a view of the sea beside it. Its structure is similar to a casino. Mammon could already smell the fresh-baked bread and pies inside, making him giggle.

Mammon had loved the view it was showing; he could eat while staring at the horizon. The cafe was located on top of a hill, not too far from the beach. It looks so nostalgic and therapeutic that Mammon took his time admiring the whole place while Lucifer already entered the cafe.

Mammon wished it wasn't too expensive. He knows that Lucifer would be the one to pay, but he doesn't want to burden him with that kind of responsibility. The second-born tried to grasp the wallet on his bag, but then he hesitated. Mammon recalled that the money in there was a payment to his debt.

Ah, yes. Mammon needed to pay it today but decided it would be better to bond with his brother first.

He sighed, still has a firm grip on his bag. He's feeling unwanted emotions today. He wants to cry, laugh, or do something he doesn't usually do. Mammon was overwhelmed with emotions.

He remembered Levi's words that it's okay to be feeling emotions you usually can't explain. Sometimes, it doesn't have to be a reason.

Mammon's snapped out of his thoughts, thinking that Lucifer was likely waiting for him inside. He turned to see the display of different pastries outside, and Mammon immediately recognized Simeon's art.

Mammon recalled Simeon's word. He said that he's going to work part-time somewhere near the sea. And this made Mammon excited. He had already counted the treats and thinking which one would his brothers choose. After planning, he tried to hurry inside but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Mammon looked over to his shoulder to see an unfamiliar demon. Their body is most likely the same size as Beelzebub but with a strict stare present. Mammon felt like he was burning.

"Heya! May I ask—who are you?" Mammon said; his tone wasn't that confident, and it's evident with his form that Mammon's going to run away in any second now.

He felt the grip on his shoulder got tighter, and the demon dragged Mammon into a less crowded area. He knows he's far powerful than this guy; he's one of the princes of Devildom. He's the Avatar of Greed. But man, he entirely wants to relax today. Mammon tried to stand with honor and kept his breathing in control.

The demon startled him. "Where's the money?"

And then Mammon realized.

"Oh!? You must be the brother's witch! Ah, here— give me a minute," Mammon took out his wallet and gave them the money. He doesn't feel that nervous anymore. Okay— he lied, maybe a little bit. Can't a demon have fears too? "Geez, you scared the hell out of me for a second there. The agreement was me and her meeting later." He muttered the last part.

But a dark aura surrounded him, and Mammon quickly backed away. He can't meet the other demon's eyes, but he can feel the rage from him.

Is the money not enough?? It can't be. I perfectly counted this; I also worked hard for this. What else could be missing???

"With all due respect, please don't go any nearer to him."

A voice. It must be Lucifer's. Mammon couldn't stop overthinking. What if Lucifer scolds him after this? What if Lucifer started to regret spending time with Mammon because of this?

Mammon looked up, tears threatening to fall. He saw his elder brother, standing behind them as classy as ever. His composure is straight, yet the glaring eyes are full of terror. Mammon recognized Lucifer's stance. It's for preparing himself to change into his demon form if the rest of his younger brothers are in serious trouble.

When the demon started to get closer to Mammon, the latter only felt a swift wind before realizing that Lucifer was there, in front of him now. "Didn't you hear what I said? What else do you need from him?"

"The money."

"It's not sufficient? Then alright, here." Lucifer took out his wallet to satisfy the demon in front of them. Mammon's full-out panicking now. His older brother saved him from trouble, and now he's going to be a disappointment in Lucifer's eyes.

"There, you got the money. Tell your sister that my brother had paid the debt." Lucifer dragged Mammon out of the other demon's sight. He looked back with sharp eyes.

"And as great as reasonable, if you're looking for Mammon—" He looked back with sharp eyes. "—strictly appear to see me. Thank you."

Both never turned their eyes back again as they entered the shop. Mammon quickly explained the whole situation. "I'm sorry! I'm sure— precisely sure that I had counted that money. And it's exactly the price the witch had been asking. I don't know what he's up to with—" He kept on babbling as they reached their reserved seats. Lucifer sighed.

"Look, stop chattering; it's annoying. I believe you. Can't I have a day where I relax with my little brother under no stress or orders whatsoever? Seeing you outside in that kind of situation is making my blood boil. How dare he waste such time when you and I could have been eating here already."

Mammon snickered, ah yeh— It's been so long that he forgot how dramatic Lucifer could be at times.

"Forget about it, Mammon. You had settled the debt, and the food that I ordered is already here. But make sure whenever you're going to meet someone concerning payment, always inform me. I'm serious. If the shares had been a burden to handle, you are welcome to visit my office anytime."

Lucifer already had bread in his mouth, but his expression is still irritable from the situation earlier. Mammon can feel his tears coming back again. Why am I so emotional today?

"Ah. Uhm, hey—" He called out to his older brother. "Thanks for backing me up earlier. I appreciated it!"

Lucifer munched the donut he was holding and then drank the newly served tea. His gaze was on the view outside, seemingly avoiding eye contact. "Hm? Of course. I'm your big brother after all, in case you forgot about it."

In moments like this, it was a rare scene between him and Lucifer. They usually argue and sometimes making each other's day stressful. But, just them eldest brothers, talking and sharing random topics— Mammon cherished this.

And behind that frown the eldest always wears, Lucifer could say the same too. He loved calm moments like this.

"But ain't Michael my first big brother?" Mammon teased. Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Silence, you have no elder brother other than me. Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor, you all are my baby brothers." And when Lucifer realized what he said, he quickly replaced the topic. "And eat the dessert I ordered for you."

Mammon's eyes turned into stars immediately when he recognized the smell, "Woah, no way?! How did you know this was my favorite?!!! This desert is expensive! Big bro! You do love me."

Then they chatted, random topics or something concerning about their home that needs fixing. Nevertheless, the atmosphere around them is comforting and warming. After a while, they had finished eating, and the moon was already out. Both agreed to go home.

"We should invite the others here too!" Mammon stated as he breathed the cold wind that passed by them.

"Yes, that would be a pleasant bonding time. Just don't be too chaotic, please. It's hard to handle all six of you."

It was a great day, Mammon thought to himself. It was entertaining and soothing to talk with his big brother without insults nor orders. Lucifer treated him today; it was— nostalgic for Mammon. It's like he doesn't want this kind of treatment to end. But of course, as the little mischief, as he is, he asked one more request.

"Lucifer!" Mammon rolled the letter r, a bit of a whining tone. "It's night, and I'm tired, yah know? Can I request a piggyback ride?" He knows Lucifer will reject it immediately. So it wasn't like he meant it, already hoping for the worst.

But then Lucifer looked at him, a contemplating expression, before getting down on one knee.

"Alright, just this once. Hurry up before I regret my decision."

Mammon's eyes were wide; he smirked before quickly hugging Lucifer from behind. He felt himself getting lifted off, and it reminded him of the old times, back in the Celestial Realm.

Lucifer doesn't mind; he also missed this. But not like he's going to say this out loud.

I should start spending time with my little brothers whenever I'm free. That would be nice.

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me fanfic #fluffy fanfiction #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon and lucifer #mammon #lucifer #mammon and lucifer #i hope you enjoyed this fanfic #soft fanfic #i tried my best #huhu

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brodependent · 3 years

Text

Sam loves Dean as much as Dean loves Sam: a meta

Much as I love reading good meta, I don’t often write meta. Thus please accept my apologies if this is mediocre, and let me start with a simple topic sentence:

Sam loves Dean as much as Dean loves Sam.

A little longer, now: Sam is even better at loving Dean than Dean is at loving Sam because of Dean’s profound and abiding love for Sam.

Confusing, right? But not really.

We all know how Dean lives and breathes SammySammySammywatchoutforSammy. It’s his defining mission, his ultimate purpose, or, as a therapist might say, his “core belief.” But sometimes I think that we allow adult!Dean too little autonomy. We assume that he can’t help himself: he’s locked into this single-minded focus, on loving and protecting the only family he has left.

That sells Dean short. (Hang in there, I promise I’ll get to Sam in a moment.)

Even people who have been forced into a certain way of life have choices. Even people who have been told who they are all their life have choices. Dean tells us, in Season 14, I’m good with who I am--and I, for one, believe him. Whether we follow canon all the way to 15x17, when Dean is finally brought back from the edge of his desire for revenge against Chuck by his love for Sam (the only thing that’s “real”), or whether we keep to season 1 when Dean said--that’s all we have...that’s all I have... and I want us to be a family again and as long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you--Dean has always accepted his role as Sam’s big brother. Dean’s life is unabashedly Sam-centric. He’d change a lot of things, but in the end he’d change nothing, because he wouldn’t change that.

Some fans get very het up about the codependent aspect of this. Others (in my opinion, rightly) defend it. There’s scads of meta on why the Winchester dynamic IS necessary for their mythic role in the narrative, and their human role in the narrative (more importantly), so I won’t write that meta now. All I’m saying is what I think you already know: Dean lives for Sam, his baby brother, and despite the grief, the growing pains, the occasional cruelty of desperate love, Dean said it all when he told Sam (and us), Don’t you ever think that there is anything, past or present that I would put in front of you.

So where does that leave Sam, and his love for Dean? Let’s start with that line I just quoted. Building on the above, Dean’s goal in life is to give Sam a life. He wants Sam to be happy. He wants him to be free. He also wants to keep him by his side forever, to control him for safety and comfort’s sake, and sometimes those instincts of a frightened-child-turned-traumatized-man win out. Dean isn’t perfect. Dean’s full of contradictions. But time and again he goes back to stone number one: what he can do for Sam. What he can offer Sam, by being the grunt, by standing in harm’s way.

When we begin the story, Sam has succeeded in the path Dean helped carve for him. I’m not taking all the credit from Sam here, and giving it Dean: merely pointing out that Dean stepped into traditional parental roles and helped send Sam into adulthood, even though that meant Sam leaving him. We know that the night Sam left for Stanford was one of the worst of Dean’s life, but even in mid-season 1, Dean tells Sam he’s proud of him. You always know what you want. You stand up to Dad. Hell, sometimes I wish I--

(this, of course, is beautifully echoed in the series finale itself)

Dean is telling Sam what so many parents tell their children: you have gone places I never could, accomplished goals I never could, grown in grace and understanding like I never could. At least, I like to think that’s what the best parents tell their children.

To Dean, Sam is always the one with more hope. More wholeness. More options. To Sam, Dean is stone number one.

You asked how Sam loves Dean, and my answer is: just look. Look at how Sam goes out into the world young, stands up to their father, makes his own decisions, fights back against Dean’s own nihilistic narrative through their primary losses and setbacks. Dean gave Sam the safety to build a better worldview than Dean himself has, and Sam turns that right back around and tries to give it to Dean.

What do you think my job is? You’re my big brother--there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

I can’t lose you.

You’re not a grunt, Dean, you’re a genius.

This is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother.

I am going to save my brother. And then I’m going to kill you dead.

If you ever need to talk about anything with anybody, you got somebody right here next to you.

I believe in us.

This is just a small collection of Sam quotes showing his love for Dean. A small collection showing the persistent theme of Sam’s persistence. He knows that pushing chick-flick moments and emotional conversations can get jokes for a dime a dozen, and even the occasional punch thrown his way. He keeps at it anyway. When Sam knows Dean’s hurting, he wants to help. He’d do anything to help. He won’t sit around and see his brother turn into an embittered killer (season 2), go to hell for saving his life (season 3), take on the Trials (season 8), be irrevocably corrupted by the Mark of Cain (seasons 9-10), let him despair (seasons 11 and 13), let him sacrifice himself to an archangel’s grave (season 14), or let him lose his goodness to the whims of a vicious god (season 15). Sam fights for Dean with full use of his considerable gifts--intelligence, rationality, resourcefulness, and yes, the occasional blind rage. Sam looks to Dean, first as a leader, then as a judge, and finally as an equal. Sam has been looking up to Dean since he was four, yes, but over the course of the show he comes to look at Dean. With love, peace, understanding, humor, pain...whatever their inimitable connection requires.

The quotes I noted above also reveal Sam’s own conflicts rear up. Sam and Dean (again, in my opinion) are equally developed characters. Both have flaws and inconsistencies. Both have struggles inherent to their personalities and upbringings, distinct from those imposed on them by supernatural forces.

Sam had a glimpse of a different life, once. He had the smarts, he had the drive, he had the sheer stubbornness to live a different life than John or Azazel or hell, even Lucifer had planned for him. But also in Sam--innate in Sam--is his core of goodness and compassion and the principle of doing right, which leads him back into the life and to soul-crushing sacrifice again and again.

Sam breaks and is broken. Sam suffers and ages and spends more time in hell than even Dean, who went to protect him.

But what keeps Sam going? Dean. Dean can’t live without Sam. We know that. The flip side is that Sam doesn’t want to live without Dean. Importantly, I think, he has more choice in the matter. Dean focused his whole childhood identity on giving Sam a life that meant he had choices, even if Dean didn’t know he was doing that. Sam can move through more crowds, more roles, more relationships. He has a better education, he has a more powerful ability to intellectually reason and detach. He would have made a great lawyer. Yet he casts all this aside out of sheer willpower, choosing instead to love Dean and live with Dean through the chaos of their lives, and to go near mad when Dean is gone. Consider Sam in season 4, Sam in season 10...Sam in season 8 trying to atone for the very choice that Dean (the best part of Dean) wanted him to make, even if the real muddle of Dean’s psyche couldn’t forgive him, for a time, for making it.

All of this leads us to the finale.

You said you wish Sam had said I love you back to Dean in the finale. I argue that he did. He made his love perfectly clear to Dean in that moment by holding his hand, by looking in his eyes. He said, you can go now, when all he wanted was for Dean to stay.

The best part of Dean wanted Sam to have happiness and freedom. At the end of his life, Dean was finally able to communicate that without fear or reservation.

But the bittersweet brilliance of that moment is that Sam--the Stanford boy who went to hell and back, who saved the world, brought down one god and raised another--no longer wanted any kind of happiness or freedom that didn’t include the one person who’d been by his side all along. Dean was giving his blessing for a path that didn’t beckon Sam anymore. And yet: Sam said yes to it out of the love for Dean. Sam went out of that barn, out of the bunker, out of that day and that year and that decade and into the next and the next, out of love for Dean. Sam loved Dean by living. He loved Dean by raising another Winchester. He loved Dean by holding all their contradictions, flaws, and heroisms in his heart (in their car), until he’d done what he set out to do many times over.

Then he met Dean on a mended bridge, dressed in old clothes that said: I was happiest at the beginning. I was happiest when we could be brothers again. I took my time getting here anyway, because I know that was what you wanted. I took my time so that we could be happiest now.

If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

#my meta #meta #spn meta #the epic love story of sam and dean #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn positive #spn #supernatural #carry on #spn finale #sam loves dean as much as dean love sam #winchesters #sam n dean #sam and dean

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seraphdarlimg · 3 years

Text

wish I were (pt3)

harry appreciates reader in his speech but finally talks to her when she runs off crying

part 1

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST, swearing WORDCOUNT - 3,501

_________________________________________________________

My head was empty while I appreciated the company of a glass of wine and city view of the venue. I leaned against the railing of the small balcony nook I found, away from the crowd of people as Bowie was played faintly through the speakers.

I arrived to the party alone. Even if our relationship is awkward at the moment, I couldn't miss his birthday. Especially if it feels like it would be the last one I attend for a while. It took me only a few seconds to find him talking to his management team, a conversation that I didn't want to interrupt. And for the next twenty minutes I find myself isolated from everyone. Maybe because I know the relationship topic would inevitably come up at one point during any conversation I join into. But also because I didn't know how to approach Harry himself anymore. I can't bring myself to start the conversation, but for him, it seems like everything is good and normal.

I promised myself to only one glass of wine, so when I finished that rather quickly then intended, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. As much as I've been trying to think like Harry and feel completely normal again, I hated how much our relationship has effected me. No matter how many times I've told myself that it's better this way, I've avoided hanging out with mutual friends to keep away from a conversation about Heather.

I took a deep breath and turned around, looking into the venue to catch Harry smiling and nodding to Gemma. One arm across his chest while his cheek rested against the other. He looked too good this evening, wearing a worn vest and matching bell bottom pants. I allowed myself to stare till his eyes glanced in my direction and catch mine.

I soften when his smile grows wider and he excuses himself away from the conversation. "For some reason, I'd knew you'd come here when we checked out the space." He says as he walks out into the balcony. "Almost had a reservation sign put up with your name on it."

He engulfs me in a hug, nuzzling his face into my neck. I slowly wrapped my arms around him and find myself resting my head on his broad shoulder when I realize this was our first hug in weeks. Oh how much I missed this feeling.

"I appreciate the thought but damn, am I thought obvious?"

"Oh I just know you too well and you love me for it."

I feel goosebumps, finding ourselves though pulled away, still in each other's arms while I smile up at him. I hummed In response before holding up a finger and turning to get the small box in my purse. When I turn back around he has a sly smirk on his face as he looks at the box wrapped with a yellow bow I hold out to him.

"Happy birthday Harry. I wanted to give this to you in person." He takes the box and unwraps the ribbon and opens it. I hold my breath, watching his reaction as he stares at a familiar string of pearls. He runs his fingers through them, a look of admiration set on his face as I twiddled my fingers.

"I always let you wear mine so I just thought you'd like a pair of your own."

"You know me well too."

"And you love me for it." I chuckled, immediately turning around and looking out onto the view as he situates himself next to me, the box once again closed and held tightly in his hands. "I'll wear these till I wear them out. Oh! We'll wear them at the same time like friendship necklaces." He tells me, giving me a side hug and squeezing my arm.

I laughed at the thought, "Only we could make friendship necklaces out of pearls worth hundreds of dollars."

We stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's company. The elephant in the room knows it's been a few weeks since the last time we shared a moment alone. I'm just not sure how he feels about the reason why.

"Shouldn't you go back out there? Supposed to be a good host." I nudged his shoulder with mine, not wanting to take him away from his party and not knowing how much I could take how hard my chest is beating at the same time.

"Well you're here. Almost thought you wouldn't show since you're weren't early."

"Can't I be fashionably late for once?"

"Glad you are though, bubs. Honestly was about to spend the night a sad man when Heather canceled."

Here we go, the one topic I dreaded would come up. Of course it would be with him when it does. "Oh. Uh she isn't here?"

"No yeah she ehm. She left yesterday for Paris. Last minute gig she booked." He shrugged it off like it was not a big deal, but he's playing with the yellow ribbon in a way that tells me otherwise.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure she'll make it up when she get's back." He scoffs, undoing the bow he just made with the ribbon. "If by 'make up' you mean a few hours in bed before she jet sets to Milan for a few months then yeah."

"Harry, you should tell her that you want her here."

"No, no it's fine. She can do whatever she wants, it's her career."

"It's also your birthday. Shouldn't girlfriends or whatever you two are right now care about that stuff?" I sighed, gently taking away the ribbon and box from him, wrapping it back while he turns and rests his back on the railing, crossing his arms and facing the entrance back into the venue. "That's the thing, I don't know what she wants out of this. I never did even when we were really together. When we were, it's so picture perfect and then when we'd get busy with our own lives, it's just so on and off. We blamed it on bad timing and long distance in the end but now that I think about it, we didn't know where to go from there."

"Do you know what you want now?"

"I think I do."

I tilted my head, growing frustrated but kept my tone calm. "Then why don't you just talk?"

"Ugh you know I'm not a confrontational person bubs." He finally looks at me, seeing me roll my eyes while he laughs it off. I shake my head, tapping on the box as he reaches out to rub my arm. "You're a dummy, Harry."

"Why do you call me that?"

I glanced at him, shrugging. "What do you mean?"

"What happened to 'H' hmm? Been calling me Harry for a while." Though his tone was lighthearted, his brows are furrowed and I can feel his intense stare.

"It's your name isn't it?"

"Obviously, but...I don't know, never mind-"

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." We suddenly hear from inside, making us both turn at the same time to see Jeff holding a cake and a crowd gathered around him, slowly walking towards the balcony where the birthday boy was. His smile grows back and we exchange a look before I hand him back my present and walk back in towards the celebration.

***

"Well, I am a man of a few words... but a good comedian doesn't repeat the same joke two years in a row. Ehm, I'm gonna do what I know best which is to spew whatever I feel from in here and hope it sounds somewhat poetic." He laughs a little at his own joke, making little hand gestures and smiling when he gets the laughs and smiles back from his words. His eyes stray to the people in front of him and to the side in thought at times, but he makes the effort to look at his friends, family members and co-workers who he is ultimately grateful for. My eyes soften at his toothy grin, knowing I look like a complete fool as I stare at him in complete adoration despite it being completely obvious how enamored I am for this man.

He gives short thank you's to the his band members and relatives he's grown close too. I laugh at his awkward jokes but also the narcissistic ones he makes that boost his confidence a bit. He has one thing prepared to say for everyone that makes them melt. "Thank you Jeff for having to deal with me another year as well, while you do look after me I am always appreciative of how you act more as an old grandpa than a dude in a business suit."

"I also want to thank Heather..."

My smile dies down a bit, knowing he would want to say something about her even when she isn't here. What made my chest hurt once again was the realization that he hadn't said anything about me yet. I had anticipated it, wondering what he would say but he had skipped right over me. I placed my hand on my knee to keep it from shaking as Harry said her name instead.

"I'll just text her later but I wanted to thank her for allowing me to write about her and being an overall beautiful person."

Thinking his speech was over and accepting how little I meant to him, he finally calls my name. I froze for a bit, looking up at him to see him already looking at me. He paused a bit, an amused look on his face when he sees how caught off guard I was.

"I saved the best for last for two reasons, one because she looks adorably silly right now..." He chuckles when I save myself with an eye roll and stuck my tongue out at him.

"And two, because I knew it'll be harder for me to come up with the words to describe how important of a person you are to me."

The curiosity and need to know what he would say about me, as well as the internalized emotional stress grew. His tone was softer and he seemed more calmer than he was a few minutes ago. The sentence already began making my heart pump and ache, and the recent events that had shaken up our relationship almost thrown out the window when he continued.

"You're so good to me and I can't thank you endlessly enough for everything you've done for the past year since I hired you. Not only was it the best decision I ever made because of how talented you are, but it also gave me the opportunity to really know someone like you. I was in a bad place when you met me and I'll never forget the kindness and patience you showed me even then. And though you call me a 'boomer' so many times and constantly come up with better melodies than me, it's worth every witty joke and bad pun just to see a smile that lights up the room. Your friendship is worth every time you complain about my kale chips."

His eyes were caught on mine from the beginning, both his hands are holding his wine glass though he held confidence in his speech. It felt like just us two in the room, his words giving tone of a very intimate moment shared between two bestfriends. I bit my bottom lip, can't seeming to stop smiling.

"And though you'll be off writing more amazing music with different amazing artists - only temporarily - know that I'll always be rooting for you and always will be -"

He breaks eye contact for a moment, but that moment was enough. "- will be uhm, proud of you." His smile grows ten times wider and he sounds relieved when he looks off onto the entrance of the venue as someone arrives. His eyes go back and forth, distracted but wanting to finish what he had left to say.

"Through thick and thin, love, you always were able to be there for me."

At that point he was fully looking at the person who arrived and I didn't have the guts to turn around to see who it was. My smile instantly dies and the warmth in my chest was just filled with a familiar pang that hasn't left all this time.

Because there she was, though out of breath and all over the place, just looked perfect as she grins and mouths 'happy birthday' to him while he haphazardly continues empty compliments that are now meant for her. My vision is blurry but my eyes are stuck on the actual person he deems important in his life. This lovely being who canceled last minute but makes it in time so he'd be truly happy.

He meant to say all of it to her. You just happened to be here when she wasn't. He doesn't love you like he loves her and he never will. He never had.

It was hard looking back at him, already knowing the way he looks at her. It was deja vu. She shows up and he's instantly mesmerized.

But I did and it suddenly was all too much. Because he glanced at me when he was saying his last words, seeing me silently cry in the middle of the crowd and looking distraught. And it all grew too claustrophobic, needing to get away and leave because all I felt now was anger.

"Hey, you okay?" Gemma asks, her brows furrowed in concern. I force a smile and nodded before excusing myself. "Yeah, just fine."

***

I pushed open the door and quickly walked out of the lobby and onto the parking lot, ignoring the distant calls of my name that grew louder and louder. I hugged my coat, trying to breathe but grew more frustrated with the growing ache in my chest. I sobbed, knowing he was catching up and didn't have the energy to deal with him right now.

"Hey, what happened - are you okay?" Harry had took hold of my arm, turning me around and all I could do was push him away. "Bubs, talk to me please."

"Stop, please I'm so tired and I physically can't be near you." I softly said, not bothering to wipe away tears anymore. He looks confused and I only scoffed at him, crossing my arms and moving back when he stepped closer, holding out his.

"What do you mean? Please let me- you're crying." He tries coming closer but I shake my head, dodging his embrace because I knew I would instantly melt.

"Yes, I'm crying! I've been crying and hurting all month because of you Harry!" I cried and he instantly freezes. "You keep doing this shit and all this time I've been coming up with excuses for it. That- I don't know, maybe that you can't help what you're feeling or that I really can't blame you- but now I do! Because you know exactly what you're doing and it's so shitty that I had to realize it this late."

"W-what are you talking about?" He's nervous.

"Oh shut the fuck up you know exactly what I'm talking about. You've avoided actually talking ever since we kissed, even before Heather came back into the picture. You completely pushed me to the side the second she gave you her attention and ever since then our whole relationship has changed Harry! And either you're so fucking oblivious or too much of a coward to face it because you just acting like everything was fine and normal broke my fucking heart even more. It obviously meant so little to you but fuck, it-"

I took a deep breathe only resorting to another sob as I placed a hand over my heart. "It meant so much to me."

I see him crying too, fumbling with his fingers and trying to hold those tears in only to lose some as he's stood still, not knowing what to do. He's guilty, his need to hold me and cry gives it away but I couldn't allow him that. And he knows it's something he doesn't deserve.

"I would of understood Harry. That you didn't feel the same fireworks and butterflies like I did when we kissed - as cliché as it fucking is. That you've fallen in love with Heather when she came back because I honestly still can't blame you for that, she's an angel. That you can't control who you love, but you never said anything. You just lead me on and didn't talk to me - why didn't you just fucking talked to me Harry, aren't we supposed to be best friends?"

He's now only inches away from me, taking hold of my hands because I was too worn out to even pull them back. "Yes! Yes, we are and I'm a stupid idiot. I'm sorry I- I should of just been upfront with you but I was so confused- and I still am. I just- I meant everything I said earlier and more because I'm always thinking about you bubs-"

I laugh at this shaking my head, not allowing anymore hope to built up. "I am! Mitch and Jeff are so fucking tired of hearing about it, but honestly so was I. But only because Heather was still in my heart and I just didn't know what to do or wanted and please believe me, I never ever wanted to hurt you."

"Why did you kiss me then?" I broke out of his hold, stepping back once again.

"I don't know darling, It just felt right and I didn't think. I-I just thought you'd leave if you knew I wasn't sure."

"Being honest about it with your supposed best friend was going to make it worse?"

"I just...I didn't want to lose you."

"But what now? you got her back, so what am I to you now? Was I supposed to be your distraction, the only option left for you to turn to? Because you fully well know that I'd drop everything I was doing just to comfort you when you were low Harry. I canceled set plans and promises because you simply asked me too, and I did since I'd always foolishly put you first because I thought you'd genuinely liked me."

"Bubs-"

"Don't. Harry you can't just put me on the side and come back to me later on if your relationships don't work out, that's not fucking fair! Ever since we met all I've been getting from you are mixed signals and I couldn't confront you about it because you'd always avoid the topic, making me feel damn silly for even thinking that way. It's just- you can't build up expectation of something between us simply because I'm the safe second option - fuck that hurts saying that."

"I- I didn't mean to make you feel that way-"

"Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing Harry. You're just to arrogant to own up to it. So fucking immature, all you had to do was talk!"

"Okay, okay I'm sorry let's talk, please! Don't walk away like this, we can talk now and fix this."

"No. You only want to talk now because it's convenient for you. That's the thing Harry."

"Stop-"

"You say you didn't want to hurt me, but you didn't want to hurt yourself first. And I just- I just hate how long it took me to realize how mean you are Harry."

"Don't call me Ha- you don't mean that."

"I do! and you know it too." He's struck by it and I'm giving up. Hurt is evident in his face and it doesn't feel good to make him sad, but now all I feel is disappointment and pity for myself.

"Since you couldn't have the balls to talk to me, I just always really wanted to tell you that I love you. Really fucking love you. As if you didn't already know, but... I guess it never really even mattered."

He calls my name deflatingly when I turn around, walking away. His last attempts of apologizing and begging for me to come back to him drift off into empty words that I block out as I stepped into my car and drove away. The time it takes for me to drive felt like days pass, but now turned to seconds when I turned off the engine and idled inside. I was still crying, still processing, all while replaying our last moment together. The one spent on the floor of the recording studio with a makeshift picnic before I spend the next days erasing it from my memory.

I sent him a text before going inside, turning off my phone right afterwards to avoid the rest of the incoming calls and text messages begging to fix what was left of us.

'I'll email you the lyrics to the last song tomorrow. Then I'm done.'

____________________________________________________________

A/N: i’m hurting. but this is the second to last chapter of this mini-series, pt4 is the finale and will be out soon :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #one direction #harry styles blurb #heather #wish I were

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