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rocorambles · 3 years

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Can I req Ushiwaka having a fubu who is Shirabu's sister and one time she thought Shirabu was out so she invited Ushiwaka but Shirabu caught them in the kitchen. Up to you how it'll endd bc idk if you write incest or you're uncomf wid it. -🐢

I actually went fairly soft with this because I love the idea of Shirabu just being an overprotective younger brother and I took some liberty with exactly where he finds them doing the do~

Warnings: NSFW

You know this isn’t what an older sister should do. You know there’s every potential for rumors to spread like wildfire if people found out exactly what type of relationship you have with the captain of Shiratorizawa’s prestigious volleyball team. You know the significant social consequences it could have for Ushijima, for Shirabu, for the entire team if their esteemed captain got caught in a scandal. But more importantly, you can’t help but feel the pang of guilt every time Shirabu looks at you like a surrogate mom, bright eyed and always excited to tell you about how practice was, how his day was despite the fact that he’s fully outgrown being just your kid brother.

Would he still look at you with that love in his eyes if he knew exactly what you were doing behind his back with his captain? Someone else he has nothing but admiration and respect for?

But maybe you don’t care nearly enough because here you are, continuing your secret little dance, plastering a cheery smile on your face as Shirabu tells you he’s going out for a study hangout session with some friends, pride mixing with shame inside of you as your heart soars at how diligent and hardworking your little brother is, only to have the feeling dampered by the text lighting up your phone.

“Are you free?”

You snort when you see the text. Which person your age writes in complete sentences with perfect grammar, capitalized letters, accurately placed punctuation? For a booty call?

Ushijima Wakatoshi. That’s who.

You’re not even completely sure how this strange relationship had begun. Well, you do know, but you can barely remember the night, only foggy memories of a third-year house party and too much alcohol prevalent in your thoughts. But your face heats up when you remember despite the way your body was barely keeping it together, stumbling around like a drunken idiot, the immense attraction you had felt when you laid eyes on Ushijima in all his stoic and stiff mannerisms, glued to a wall away from the heart of the chaos.

The last thing you remember is bounding towards him, olive eyes widening in alarm when your body presses against him and your hands hook into the front of his shirt, trying to pull him down for a sloppy kiss. And then you blank out.

You find out the next morning that you had promptly passed out from the insane amount of alcohol you had consumed, saved from falling into a messy heap on the floor by Ushijima’s reflexes, and you groan when you remember the awkwardly hilarious photos your friends had taken of the giant athlete gently laying your limp body on the ground at his feet before resuming his uptight standing stance, looking strangely like an intimidating bodyguard guarding your passed out form splayed at his feet.

Your friends tell you to laugh it off. People do stupid things when they’re drunk. Don’t sweat it.

Sure, that’s all fine and dandy, maybe even true. But most people don’t have to see the victim of their drunk stupidity on a daily basis and you want to sink into the ground when you pick up Shirabu from practice, nowhere to hide from olive eyes that look at you with recognition. And your foot taps impatiently, wanting nothing more than for your brother to pick up the pace so you can leave your shame behind.

But what you don’t expect is a large body making its way towards you, a looming shadow covering your body as Ushijima stands in front of you.

“I wouldn’t mind repeating what you were trying to do last night when you’re sober.”

Straightforward. Never one to beat around the bush. Never one to mince words. The sentence is everything you should expect from a man like Ushijima, but the implication of his words and the embarrassment it dredges up from your core make your jaw drop and just like that, the two of you are in the world’s most silent stand-off. But Ushijima is a busy man who doesn’t have time for...whatever it is you’re currently doing just standing there like a fish out of water, and without thinking you tell him your phone number when he asks, still in a daze as he politely bows to you before walking away.

The rest is history.

Your “hangouts” started off a little shakily with your shyness and his stiffness clashing against each other in a messy tango as you hesitantly and tentatively explored each other, tasting each other’s mouths, fingertips gently grazing warm skin, mapping out new territory. But Ushijima is a quick learner, sharp instincts and awareness making him a dangerous opponent in the bedroom, and before you know it, he’s seemingly completely figured you out.

You’re left screaming, writhing, and moaning, a different sort of mess from the woman he had met that one night. And as prim and proper as Ushijima has been raised, he can’t help but want to wreck you even more, see just how filthy you can become because of him.

Tonight’s no different and you’ve barely opened the front door to let him in before you’re swiftly being hauled up and carried by strong arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you hungrily kiss each other, practically devouring one another as he brings the two of you down hallways and turns he knows like the back of his hand by now before dropping you on your bed.

Clothes are being pulled off and haphazardly thrown, a slight shudder running through you as the cool air hits your body, quickly replaced by a warm body settling on top of you and you sigh in content as Ushijima’s body blankets yours in its comforting and familiar presence. But there’s nothing soothing about the way he roughly presses against your lips, one calloused hand gliding down your hips, squeezing in a way that has your back arching and mewling into his mouth, desperate for more, more, more.

Ushijima is gifted in more ways than one and even after countless rounds of mind numbing pleasure, he still insists on thoroughly stretching you out, remaining firm about not moving forward until he deems you ready. For once, you are not a fan of his meticulousness, finding it almost torturously slow as he stays resolute in his decisions, gradually adding finger by painstaking finger inside of you, never increasing his pace, never increasing the stretch inside of you until you’re beyond ready, a thrashing pleading begging mess on the verge of frustrated aroused tears.

Only when your pussy is gushing, juices leaking everywhere, salty drops trailing down your face does he finally press his tip against your entrance. Your nails claw into broad shoulders as he sinks bit by bit inside of you, the stretch always overwhelming and deliriously satisfying no matter how many times you’ve had him inside of you, and your mouth opens almost comically wide when he finally bottoms out inside of you, his balls pressing against your ass as he forces himself to still, letting you adjust to his generous size.

But you don’t have his patience and you pointedly squeeze your tight walls around his cock, a sharp upwards tilt on your lips when the powerful man above you loses his restraint, groaning and instinctively thrusting his hips further inside of you from the feeling of you clamping down on him. And you know you’ve awakened the predator inside of him when a dark feral look gleams in his narrowed eyes, heart racing as he pins you down with a hungry look you know all too well.

You’ll blame the loud clapping sound of skin against skin, the symphony of your pleasured wails and his grunts, the rustling of bedsheets and movement of bed frame, for not hearing the front door open much too soon as Shirabu returns home in search for a textbook he’d forgotten, intending to just quickly go in and out.

He’ll blame his morbid curiosity and overprotectiveness of you, heart and mind already knowing exactly what he’s hearing from the direction of your bedroom, knowing he shouldn’t look through the open crack of your door to confirm his suspicions, knowing he should respect your privacy. You’re an adult now and this is what adults do. It’s fine. It’s normal. Yet he plants his face against the crack, eye narrowing as he tries to make out who the fucker is who dares lay a hand on his sister, only to jerk in surprise, accidentally creaking the door open further when he realizes exactly who is in between your legs.

Both your heads whip towards the doorway at the sound of the hinges squeaking and there’s a tense stillness in the air as the three of you freeze, different varieties of mortification and shock expressed on your faces. And then Shirabu is fleeing, slamming the door shut behind him, a strangled stuttered excuse of needing to go back to his friend’s house echoing behind him as he makes a beeline back towards the entrance, itching to leave the seared image of Ushijima and you so intimately together far far behind.

He isn’t mad. He doesn’t know exactly what he is as a litany of emotions ransack him. But he knows he isn’t mad.

Still in shock? Maybe. Mortified and unsure how he’s ever going to look his captain in the eyes ever again? Absolutely.

But you’re still you and he can feel the guilt twist his insides at how distraught and panicked you sound as you desperately try to contact him, mentally wishing he was a stronger man ready to face his problems instead of shying from them as he tries to slowly process what had just happened.

He knows the right move is to go back home, sit down with you, and talk it out. He knows that he’ll eventually go back home. He knows that he still loves you regardless of who you share your bed with. He knows all this and yet it’s daunting, the thought of returning and looking you in the eyes after what had transpired, his feet feeling like blocks of lead. But it’s a four word text from his captain that ultimately gives him the final push he needs.

“Please come back home.”

It’s jarring to witness the man he looks up to calling his house “home”. But...not in a bad way and Shirabu’s eyes stay fixated on that single word, mind playing imaginary scenarios of Ushijima walking with both of you back home, of you holding up a poster with both their numbers during volleyball matches, of you scolding both men to not slack off in their studies.

He doesn’t hate it. In fact something curious and warm floats inside of him as his imagination runs wild and he can feel the scheming strategic wheels in his brain twist and turn the more and more he thinks about Ushijima and you.

There’s not many men Shirabu would easily let into his sister’s life. But Ushijima? Ushijima would be at the top of that allowed list if he had one. And although he’s sure that what the two of you currently have is just a friends with benefits relationship (banking on the fact that his sister would never hide her actual boyfriend from him, even if it is Ushijima), he smiles, already planning ways to pierce both of you with Cupid’s arrows as he makes his way back home.

#haikyuu smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Text

In another life, in another time

Dialogue prompt- 27. what happened to us ? Part - 25 | part 31 coming soon |

TW- HEAVY ANGST | Amnesia | Sorry In advance..

Perhaps in another life, In another time, We'd be together.

The beats thumped louder, the footsteps dissolved somewhere in the big building. Harsh breaths leaving Harry's lips could be hear by anyone sitting besides him, he was grieving perhaps or breathing as a task to stay alive for a mere few seconds, even if he wasn't dying, a part of him was slowly approaching senescence, at least that's what he felt.

And finally he saw the healer's coming out talking to each other, whispering in low tone. He could sense the bad news by the way their faces expressed but he held onto a little hope. Just a little.

" Mr. Potter ?" One of the Healer approached harry as the other one's left offering him a sympathetic smile.

"H-he's fine, he is, right?" His voice came out in tremble with trying to control his trembling hands by his sides.

" he's fine " the healer pressed his lip in a thin line before adding " but -"

" no please. No Buts-"

" I'm sorry Mr. Potter. He- draco have suffered some rare oblivation spell. I'm sorry harry, draco have amnesia, anterograde or retrograde, we're not sure of it as of now "

__________________________________

" I'm very glad we were Able to summon you mr. Potter " the healer offered harry a little smile as he pointed the chair in front of the desk to be attempted.

Harry hummed as he sat down on the chair, Shaking.

" I'm going to ask this as a friend harry, when was the last time you slept ?" He huffed.

Harry leaned back over the chair uncomfortably, gulping " I don't know " he grunted

" harry- y- you have to understand what I'm trying to tell you, alright ?" The healer asked. Harry nodded in soft lazy motions, yawning.

After supposedly half an hour, he walked out, every corner of his mind filled with unblinking thoughts. Draco didn't remember harry, he only remembered parts of harry that seemed much like a dream to him and there seemed little hope that he would but the Healer had suggested harry to try again, after unsuccessful attempts and practically forcing draco to remember him. This time harry was to need to a strategy to help draco remember thing's and the only way to it was by storing away his memories.

He passed by draco's ward watching him look outside the window, sitting on the edge of the bed, all alone. Harry wanted to go inside, try once again but he was sure by his previous Attempts he had scared off draco and harry was probably the last person he wanted to see as of now.

Heavy hearted harry walked home drenching himself in rain unknowningly, thoughts of draco brimming his mind to care about anything else.

" you'll have to try but you have to remember harry, he doesn't remember any part of your relationship and he might not even remember you forgiving him. You'll have to start from scratch. If you want him back harry you need do "

He opened the door to his apartment, memories of theirs of cooking on the kitchen, cuddling in the couch, laughing and throwing at pillows at each other, smiling at each other from across the hall, making out against the wall, all of it lingered in the background as a television show not ready to stop but harry didn't raise an eye as he walked into the shower and sat down with clothes on and remained there, numbness invading his senses until Ron had came to visit harry and had forced him out of the shower, helping him get dried up.

" I know it's hard harry, but he doesn't remember you "

" but we've been together for 5 years, he must remember something, anything ?"

" I'm not sure how but during the time of attack draco might've been trying to conceal his memories of you but instead of locking them away, he might've exposed them. In attempts to conceal them, he gave the attacker entrance to it and he possibly have forgotten everything about the relationship "

" how long were you in the shower for ?" Harry suddenly was broken out of numbness, finding Ron putting food over table.

" when did you came here ?" Harry only asked.

Ron looked at in little shock at harry before he sighed, letting it pass " I got you out of the cold shower "

Harry nodded, watching the food presented before him.

" from the looks of it, you met the healer today, didn't you ?" Ron asked. Harry looked up but didn't answer. He didn't know how to. He wasn't sure he could answer even.

" harry, It's been days. If you can't forget him, don't let him. His entire memory isn't blocked. You can try-"

" I've tried Ron but I gave the love of my life an almost panic attack in Trying to make him remember me " harry yelled

Ron startled and saw harry break down in front of him over the kitchen table, " I miss him, ron, he's here but I miss him "

" you have to try this time more patiently harry. If you want him back, you have to " Ron rubbed Harry's back as he hugged him.

" I- I don't know how to ron. It's hard " harry sobbed

"something is better than nothing. Try harry. Trying Is the only hope you've gotten "

_____________________________

Harry shook his hands by his side violently, trying to shake off his anxiety and practiced deep breaths beforehand he knocked on the door.

" come in " he heard.. harry let out a deep breath before he plastered a smile and finally walked through the door.

" hi " harry waved awkwardly

" you " draco raised an eyebrow at harry. Harry closed his eyes, remembering why he is doing this.

" I was wondering if we could talk about the other day ?" Harry asked not moving a step forward

" haven't you done enough " draco rolled his eyes.

Harry swallowed " I- I just wanted to apologise "

" for which part exactly ? The yelling at me like a baboon or basically causing me a panic attack "

" both " harry sighed " listen, I don't think you understand how hard this is for me-"

" hard for you ? I'm the one who doesn't remember people, I've lost chunk of memories and it's hard for you" draco narrowed his eyes at harry

" I- I understand but you see- well it's not as same as you- but-" but harry couldn't go on. He couldn't and draco only waited for him to go on. He didn't.

" you know what it doesn't matter. Let me reintroduce myself, Hi I'm harry potter, I'm your used to be arch nemesis and i- we- well I'd like to be friends with you "

" friends with me? Like my days have became that had that I'd be friends with you potter!? " Draco Airily laughed " no thanks I'm fine "

If only draco knew what he had done, if he only knew. Harry couldn't stand it. He thought he could but he couldn't. He ran out into the washroom and let his burying feelings evade, breaking into heavy sobs. He couldn't do it. Not when he knew Draco didn't remember anything, that he didn't remember harry.

________________________________

" where did you ran to yesterday ?" Draco asked as harry fetched him water today

" I- I had Somewhere to be " harry cleared his throat as he gave him the glass of water.

" it was weird. You asked me to be your friend, then you ran and yet here you are again. There's something weird about you Potter-"

" harry, please " it hurt even to think of how draco didn't know what he was doing by calling him potter.

" it's weird. I've always called you potter, It'd be weird to call you by your first name. Besides I don't think we are on first name basis " draco shrugged his shoulders as he watched harry leaned against the wall, fumbling with the zip of his jacket.

" right, I forgot "

" weird, you're not the one who have amnesia.. you are acting strange you know that. Pretty weird " draco frowned

" it- well we used to be to- friends. We were friends so it's just weird how now you call me potter when I'm used to being harry for you "

"still weird. I mean I at least remember being with people, but you, no recollections as if we were never even friends. Hope you're not lying potter " draco casually said.

Harry exhaled deeply, tears forming at the brim of his eyes " it's alright. You can call me potter until we become friend's "

" why are you so persistent on being friends with me ? I thought you hated me ?" Draco curiously asked.

" because " harry couldn't go on. He couldn't.

" you need to start finishing your sentences potter " draco raised his eyebrows at harry mockingly.

Harry hummed and just stood there watching draco flip pages of a magazine until Draco asked him to leave. Harry did. He had no other option.

__________________________________

" you didn't come yesterday ?" Draco asked one day, watching harry knit a sweater for him..

" I- I had something " he lied. He was lying in bed haunted by draco visiting his dreams, sitting on an empty date table at their 6th anniversary, day they were supposed to move in together, eating draco's favourite dish, all by himself.

" not very nice of you skip a night if you're trying to be friends " draco teased. Harry looked up at Draco with a small smile before he went back to knitting.

Draco observed harry as if he was a blank canvas waiting to be drawed upon, his glance curious. Draco would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't curious about why harry was the only one so persistent about being friends, as if there were greater reasons but no matter how hard he tried to remember, he only remembered him apologizing to him after war, and nothing else.

" do you not sleep at all or those dark circles are just fashion ?" Draco asked

"I- have trouble sleeping " harry replied, pressing his lips in a thin line.

" you can sleep around here if you want to you know.. It'll be a secret" he cared. Draco cared and it only offered false hope to harry, one he should've been very much aware of not to fall into trap to.

" I'll keep that in mind " for the first time harry offered draco a warming smile before he began knitting again and draco absent-mindedly flipped pages of magazine again.

________________________________

" wow- such a grand celebration " draco laughed as he saw his friends come in with cakes and balloons

" since you couldn't celebrate your half birthday as you always do, we thought we'd bring it to you " pansy chimed.

Draco laughed and started singing along with them as they sang the birthday song, making draco happier than he had felt in days. And in even so everything, he couldn't stop thinking about harry standing in the background, then walking out in the Middle. Hermione followed him outside and from what draco saw, it seemed like she was hugging him, trying to probably comfort him, but before he Could've stared any longer, pansy forced him to cut the cake.

Something felt missing, there was and it Haunted draco to think of what it was. There was no one more hurt by the fact that he couldn't remember even when he tried so hard. He knew there was something missing, he could feel it, he just didn't know what and for whatever reason, it felt it was related to harry.

" y- that necklace " draco had pointed out at Harry's neck when he was helping draco with adjusting his pillows.

" that-"

" it's yours " harry smiled lightly, helping Draco lean backwards.

" how? How do you have it ?"he asked curiously.

" you gifted it to me, don't you remem- " harry stopped himself.

" you gifted it to me. You can have it back if you want " harry offered as he hesitantly reached his neck to unlock it but draco stopped him.

" it's fine. Keep it. Feels like it holds much meaning to you than to me " draco replied.

Harry gazed at draco softly before he pressed a small kiss on his forehead " it does " harry whispered and left, like a dying wind.

Draco played with the ring on his finger for a larger part of the night, haunted by the fact again that harry had different motives. He Could sense it but the more he tried to think, the more he felt as though he was stepping away, more he was forgetting and it ached draco. He knew it, he felt it but he was too Afraid. He was afraid of hurting even if he didn't know what he'd even do.

________________________________

" harry, stop this " one day draco abruptly said while harry was helping With last of draco's bandages

" what? What do you mean ?" Harry asked puzzled

Draco breathed in deeply, gulping, preparing himself to drop the bomb " stop taking care of me, stop trying to do whatever it is you're trying to do, can't you see it already, it's not- it's not what you want "

Harry looked at Draco as the pained expression found his face and he softly whispered " you don't know what this means, do you ?"

Draco shook his head painfully denying.

Harry gave him a sad smile as he sat down on the chair next to draco's bed, his head dropping, a single tear dripping down his eye.

" to you it's just me trying to be friends with you but it's so much more than that. It's more than about just being friends for me " harry whispered.

" it Always have been so much more than that. Yet I've been holding onto the hope all along but -"

" I don't remember " draco finished his sentence somehow knowing harry was about to say that.

" stop doing it to yourself harry " draco sympathetically said

" I- can't. I -"

" you have to " draco raised his voice

" can't you see it, I can't. Do you even realise how much it pains me to see you everyday on the bed, holding onto one single ray of hope that you'll remember. But you, remember nothing. 6 years of memories , gone just like that. You don't get to say any of it draco, you're living it painfully, I walk in everyday to an Empty apartment, crying myself to sleep in just one hope that you'll remember-"

" but that's the thing, I will not harry. i can't and i won't " draco interjected loudly.

" I will not remember harry. Stop hurting yourself " draco whimpered.

Harry looked only once at Draco " I know " before his whispers Turned into sobs and harry was shaking with the pain.

Draco tried to comfort harry, rubbing his back, trying to tell him it's alright but he knew it provided no solace. It didn't mend his broken heart when he was the one causing his heart to break in little fragile fractions of glasses until it was scattered across everywhere.

" I pretended it didn't hurt, but it does. It does so much that I can't even sleep at night" harry whimpered as he hugged draco. Draco rested his chin on top of Harry's head, rubbing circles over his back, providing any comfort he could offer.

They remained like that for several moments until Harry's breathing came to normal and draco finally broke the silence with a painful statment " what happened to us?"

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a grief to offer, a way to express sorrow, to visit pain. It was to offer solace that draco too regretted and harry knew he did. It was a way of saying that when they expected cherish and Making more memories, living together, waking up next to each other, instead they were fighting through, waking up in hospital bed, grieving on lost memories. Where life landed them.

" I have got to go " harry finally said, Breaking from the little hug.

Draco looked at harry only for a moment before he kissed harry in pity of being unable to give everything to harry he had once promised him and that left him in tears again.

Harry broke free crying, desperately trying to conceal his whines.

" I'm sorry harry, I really am " draco's eyes prickled with tears as the moon danced over them in the late night..

Harry stood there in silence for several moments, packing away the memories,. storing away draco somewhere he'd only visit in dreams until it was time to finally leave and he reluctantly walked towards the door..

" I'd like if we can be friends harry.. " draco offered.

Harry turned around, giving draco a small smile " I'd rather not have you at all than only for a few, draco "

" perhaps in another life, I'm another time we'd be together and neither of us would forget "

And harry walked away, coldness settling in as draco long stared at the doorframe.

I swear I'm sorry. ( Thanks to Tom Odell for putting me in feels )

300 followers appreciation Dialogue Prompt requests open

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butmakeitgayblog · 3 years

Text

City of Angels: Just a Little Doped Up

Also available on AO3

///////////////////

Lexa ached seeing her wife in pain.

Ached.

The weeks leading up to the big day had left Lexa feeling emotionally drained; a jittery ball of nerves bouncing from one room of their apartment to the next, testing out any and every remedy she could come up with to alleviate her wife's discomfort. Weeding through half-hearted protests of, "I'm fine," and diligently argued pleas of, "I'll do it later," Lexa clawed, begged, borrowed, and stole her way to this particular finish line.

After a month of grumbled fights and empty threats of a contentious divorce if Clarke didn't stop rescheduling, Lexa could only manage a haphazard sigh at being on the receiving end of her wife's icy glare when they'd finally led her away.

Because Clarke had eventually agreed to the procedure, albeit with an air of begrudging resignation, having spent the days leading up to the appointment grumpily preparing Lexa for what to expect.

And she thought she did know what to expect. Lexa had fully anticipated the swollen cheeks and glazed eyes that greeted her when the nurse had called her back. She'd expected the blood tinted dribble of drool that leaked from the lax hang of her wife's mouth. Even the wobbly chin and glistening sheen of tears upon seeing her again didn't lead Lexa to think a single thing was amiss.

But this?

She certainly hadn't anticipated this.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Pardon?" Lexa mumbled in return as she continued to read through the clipboard in her hands, a sigh escaping her at the fifth question in a row.

"I thaaaid," Clarke pushed out with a glassy roll of her eyes, "who the hell is that?"

Slowly dragging her eyes up for a moment Lexa flashed a pleading, yet overly-saccharine, look of love at her wife.

"Clarke?" she said as sweetly as she could manage.

"Hu?"

"Shhh. Just for a little bit, okay?"

Lexa watched an affronted frown pull at her wife's lips, cheeks stuffed with enough gauze to render any threat from the look quite moot. Shooting the disgruntled love of her life another smile, Lexa turned back to the discharge sheet she'd been attempting to fill out.

"Is she always this… lively?"

A cough of laughter jumped from Lexa's chest as she dotted the final 'i' in her last name. Handing the clipboard back to the waiting nurse, Lexa grinned over at the woman now fighting through a series of torturous looking blinks.

"You have no idea," she whispered. "But this is rare form, for sure. You'd think a doctor would-"

"Oh no," the nurse, Monroe, interrupted, shaking her head ruefully as she moved to slip the clipboard in its holder. "Doctors make the worst patients. If they're not pulling the MD card on you, they--"

"Heeey you. C'mere."

"-- Act like a fool?" Lexa finished for her, tossing an exasperated look toward the caregiver in charge.

Turning to the sound of her wife's call, Lexa had to swallow the urge to laugh. Despite Clarke's best attempt at what Lexa knew to be her sultry voice of seduction, the growing puddle of spittle escaping the loose sling of her mouth was enough to kill any hope of that particular mood.

"Yes, my love?" she soothed anyway, rolling the wheeled stool she sat on over to catch her wife's searching hand. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Clarke hummed, her words sticky, and slow, and slurred. "There's thit in my mouf."

"It's gauze, sweetheart," Lexa said, leaning down to press the whisper of a kiss to the swollen curve of Clarke's jaw. "You had your wisdom teeth taken out."

"They took my teef?!"

Seeing the flash of indignant anger in Clarke's eyes, Lexa immediately moved to intercept Clarke's free hand that had sluggishly tried, and failed, to fly up to her mouth.

"You asked them to, remember? They were hurting you."

Clarke shook her head, her eyes turning watery along with her words. "I wouldn't do that."

"I promise ya, hun," the nurse chuckled as she moved to Clarke's other side. "You did."

"But I hate doctorth."

"Amen, sister," Monroe hummed as she took Clarke's wrist and did a final check of her vitals.

Lexa watched as Clarke's eyes seemed to spin in their sockets for a moment before landing on her again, a smile blooming on Lexa's lips at her wife's adorable befuddlement.

"I lub you," Clarke slurred with doe-eyed conviction, picking her head up just to have it fall back a second later. Letting her wandering gaze loop around to her opposite side, baby-blues turned to the nurse instead. "I lub her, ya know."

"I should hope so," the nurse grinned as she placed Clarke's hand back down. "Otherwise the whole marriage thing would be kinda awkward."

"Yeah," Clarke said in a lazy sigh. "That'd be weird… Like we were straight--."

"Okay, Clarke," Lexa tried, shooting Monroe an apologetic smile. "Why don't we just-"

"But I'm in lub with her," she rolled on, pausing for a moment to noisily smack her obviously numb lips. "She's an angel, ya know?"

"She seems like it."

"No. No," Clarke shook her head defiantly. "You don't get it."

Releasing a nervous laugh, Lexa squeezed the hand in her grip in warning. "Clarke--"

"She's an angel. Like with the flappy wingth one. A halo and… 'N a harp, I think. Birkenstockth."

"Well those are certainly all words," Monroe smiled down at the babbling patient.

"She fell down a cliff to lub me," Clarke crooned in high-pitched broken words, her lip starting to tremble again with emotion.

Running a soothing hand through blonde hair, Lexa shook her head at the nurse holding back laughter as she stood to lean over her doped-up wife. "Clarke, sweetheart, shhhh, okay? We're gonna be going home in a minute, so just rest. If you talk too much, the swelling will be worse."

"Thee, look," Clarke said, ignoring Lexa entirely as she flopped a hand in the general direction of Lexa's face. "She's still got a lil thcar on her eye... I kith it when she's thleeping."

Head rolling back towards the nurse, Clarke looked up with a deadpan warning.

"Don't tell her that though."

"It'll be our little secret," Monroe winked before moving toward the door. "Okay, Mrs. Griffin, I'm gonna go get you the rest of your aftercare info and a wheelchair, and then you can get this one home."

Lexa breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Monroe."

"No problem, just sit tight."

The door clicked shut as the woman left, Lexa taking her seat again to fire off a text to Raven to let her know they'd be done soon. A hush fell over the room as she slid her phone back into her pocket before lifting her head… and seeing her wife glaring daggers at the closed door.

"What?"

Blue eyes rolled to her with what Lexa supposed could be defined as righteous indignation.

"I think that bith was flirtin' with me."

"Clarke," Lexa gasped and her mouth dropped open. "Do not call her that."

"She got all winky with me," Clarke argued, mimicking the move by seductively winking with both eyes. "I know what that meansth."

"Sweetheart, she was not flirting with you."

"She's trying to busth up a happy home. Make me get a divorce."

"She wasn't. She just thought you were being goofy."

"I'm not goofy… You're goofy."

Lexa simply sighed. "I am goofy, you're right."

"I know," Clarke nodded as Lexa tucked back a wayward curl behind Clarke's ear. "... 'N fuckin' 'winky' out there-"

"Clarke, stop."

"You tell her to sthop," Clarke frowned. "I'm married and she nid- no- needs to knock it off."

"I'll tell her that, okay?"

Clarke merely sighed, head falling to the side as stared over at Lexa through several slow blinks. "I can't feel my lipth."

"They're still there. Pretty as ever."

"I think they took my tongue away."

"I hope not. Definitely need that for later."

Clarke perked up at that.

"Are we gonna have thex later?"

"No," Lexa chuckled. "You're high as a kite, love. And you're going to be in a lot of pain in just a little bit, so I think it's gonna be a while before-"

Her words cut off as Clarke's bottom lips scrunched together, eyes filling with tears yet again.

"Oh, don't cry," Lexa hushed through a laugh as she scooted closer, carefully cradling her wife's face in her palms. She swept the pad of her thumb along the delicate row of lashes, collecting the dewy droplets before they could fall.

"You don't wanna have thex with me anymore," Clarke sniffled.

"I always want to have sex with you, Clarke," Lexa assured with a smile, rolling her eyes at the entire trainwreck of a conversation. "But you just had surgery, so for now you have to heal first."

"... Heal first?"

"Yes," Lexa nodded definitively. "Heal first, then sex. I promise."

Clarke seemed to debate the matter for a moment, her eyes shifting in and out of focus as Lexa ran fingers through the tendrils of her hair.

"Okay," Clarke finally conceded, giving a lazy shrug of her shoulder as all traces of sadness suddenly vanished from her face.

Lexa snorted as she pulled back, glad to have seemingly navigated that particular minefield successfully. A quiet knock on the door pulled her attention away as the door eased open and Monroe walked backward into the room.

"Alright, Clarke," she announced, pivoting around to pull a wheelchair up to the side of the recovery chair. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

"Oh look, winky'th back. Mleeeh."

Monroe's face pulled to the side in confusion, her gaze darting to Lexa who could only close her eyes and shake her head in answer. Biting her lips to seemingly hold back an amused response, the nurse gave a tiny nod of understanding as she moved to help the patient currently losing a battle with a blanket.

"Alrighty. Anyway. Ready to head home, Mrs. Griffin?"

"Griffin-Woodth," Clarke immediately groaned as she lumbered to her feet, one arm hooked through Lexa's while the other elbowed the nurse away. "We're a team."

Monroe lifted her hands up in surrender when Lexa grunted against Clarke's struggling and gave up on their coaxing method of transport, instead moving to wrap an arm around Clarke's waist to bodily shuffle her into the wheelchair. Easing her wife down in the seat, Lexa dodged a sloppy kiss aimed at her cheek.

"Hang on, sweetheart, you're bleeding again," she rushed out before Clarke could become emotionally unglued at her rebuff, mechanically moving to ransack the sterile tray still off to the side to grab a few fresh bundles of gauze.

Squatting down, Lexa tipped Clarke's head forward by her chin, thanking everything holy when her wife let her mouth fall open at her urging. Swapping out the soaked gauze for fresh ones and escaping unscathed from the teasing nip of teeth at her fingers, Lexa tenderly wiped Clarke's chin clean before tossing the rolls in the biohazard bin and moving to wash her hands.

"Well at least we know she's all set for home aftercare," Monroe said with a grin as Lexa shook her hands off and wiped them dry on a few paper towels.

Ears pinking at the statement, Lexa ditched the towels in the bin as well and made her way back over. "Yeah, sorry. Force of habit. Working inside of a hospital and being married to a doctor for four years, you just kinda get used to it."

"A lot of spouses can be a little put-off by the blood and drool."

"She drools when she sleeps anyway," Lexa shrugged, gathering up the paperwork they needed and stuffing them inside Clarke's purse. Placing the bag over her shoulder, Lexa leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her wife's forehead. "You ready to go home, love?"

"Mhmmmm," Clarke hummed with a dopey bob of her head.

Lexa held the door open as the nurse started wheeling Clarke out, her eyes doing a scan of the room to make sure they had everything. A quick jog let her catch up to the pair as they neared the patient checkout, Clarke babbling Monroe's ear off the entire way.

"Hey, sexy," a voice shouted as the doors of the clinic slid open. "Get your fine ass over here."

Lexa smiled at the call as she looked up from the soggy flow of words her wife was directing at seemingly no one in particular.

"Wabeeeen," Clarke called back in a throaty haze of excitement, her head and hand not holding an ice-pack wobbling back and forth in a bizarre kind of drugged-up celebration dance. "Baby, Waben's here."

"I know," Lexa said as Monroe wheeled them toward the SUV parked by the curb. "She drove us here. And now she's gonna give us a ride home, remember?"

"That'th nice of her... She's tho nice," Clarke sniffled as they pulled to a stop. Lexa could barely hold back a sputter of laughter at that, giving Clarke a conciliatory nod.

"Sure she is. We'll go with that."

"Jesus, Griff, what'd they do to you?"

Lexa's head snapped up to level their friend with a warning glare after blue eyes turned to her and started welling up all over again.

"Because ya look great!" Raven very expertly added, pulling her lips back in apology before spinning around toward her car and opening the door. "Okay, let's get you up and in, princess. Chop chop."

Scoffing at that pathetic display, Lexa pulled the purse off of her shoulder and shoved it in Raven's general direction as she rounded to the front of the wheelchair.

"You ready to get in, love?" she asked as she squatted down in front of her wife. "Me and Monroe are gonna help, okay?"

"No."

"Clarke--"

"I can walk mythelf."

"Let us help."

"You really shouldn't walk by yourself, Mrs. Griffin."

Clarke scowled at the nurse, a mumbled "Griffin-Woodth" floating between them as Lexa straightened back up.

"Don't make me do it, Clarke."

Blue eyes swung back around to her, a defiant glint coloring them… once they'd stopped rolling in Clarke's head.

"You're gonna be mad at yourself later," Lexa reminded. She waited a long moment as her wife stubbornly stared back. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Lexa stepped aside with a sigh and nodded toward the car.

Raven smiled and shook her head as she raised a knuckle and rapped twice on the darkened window.

"You owe me five bucks, Woods," Raven said as the door popped open.

"Yeah, yeah," Lexa frowned and shuffled aside to make room. "Excuse me for siding with my wife."

"Well in all fairness, it was a really dumb bet."

"Thank you," Lexa drawled as her friend stepped out.

Anya only shrugged as she closed the door behind her. Stepping to the wheelchair, she pulled up the sleeves of her long black coat and smirked down. "So we meet again, Clarke."

"Anya!" Clarke cheered, throwing her hand up to awkwardly pat the woman on the arm. Twisting around to look at the nurse behind her, Clarke hushed her voice and added, "She's an angel too, ya know?"

"Is that right?"

"Mhm. Our guard- our garden- our gardenia angel. But she kinda thucks at it. Don't tell her I thaid that though."

Anya's spine snapped to attention at the words, her glare darting between Lexa and the nurse eyeing the strangeness of her thick, dark outfit in the middle of L.A. heat with curiosity. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Lexa minutely shook her head and grabbed Clarke's hand to get her attention.

"Yes, sweetheart, everyone here's an angel. Let's get you in the car now, 'kay?"

"Yes," Monroe said as she seemed to blink herself out of whatever thoughts she'd been having, instead walking to the side of the wheelchair and flipping on the breaks. "Time to go, Mrs. Griffin… Woods. Griffin-Woods," she tacked on at the narrowing of Clarke's eyes before glancing up at the woman across from her. "You wanna grab that side?"

"Don't worry about it, just step back," Raven said as she helped Lexa guide the nurse up and away. "It'll be easier this way 'cause grouchy ass likes to fight anyone helping her."

With that, Anya crouched down and slid one arm beneath the bend of Clarke's knees, the other snaking between her arm and waist to wrap around her back.

"Up we go," Anya murmured and lifted Clarke out of the seat, ignoring the lazy protests from her passenger as she kicked aside the wheelchair with ease. Monroe grappled to grab and right the seat as Lexa refused to look at her, instead letting her head fall into her hand at the entire display.

Raven opened the backseat door as wide as it would go when Anya stepped forward.

"Clarke, tuck your head into me like you do Lexa," Anya said as she bent to scoot the woman through the door of the car, only to yank back a moment later with a garbled yell of disgust. "Not like that!"

"Anya--"

"She licked me!"

"You thaid like Lexa."

"Why did I agree to not film this?" Raven groaned and flopped back against the side of the car.

"Can we please get this shit show on the road," Lexa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took control of the chaos and began rattling off instructions. "Clarke, no licking. Anya, just get her in the car. Raven, you agreed because your friend, my wife, is a very well-respected doctor and teacher, and having a video of her licking a random woman's neck wouldn't be great for her career. Now, go start the car. Monroe… I don't even know. Thank you? And I'm sorry about all of this."

The nurse simply smiled as she reached down to unlock the wheels again and looped around back toward the clinic. "Don't worry about it. Happens more often than you'd think. She'll be out of it for a bit, but just roll with it. Keep everything clean, read the aftercare instructions, and call if you have any questions."

Exchanging a final nod of goodbye, the nurse left the group and went back inside.

"Okay, put her in, Ahn. I'll meet you on the other side."

With a disgruntled huff, Anya gave the woman in her arms another wary glance and moved to settle her into the backseat. Lexa rushed around the back of the SUV and flung the door open, slipping in and across the bench seat in the back as Anya leaned in and set Clarke down.

"Hey, Clarke? I'm gonna buckle you in now," Lexa said as she accepted the seat belt clasp Anya stretched out for her.

Clarke glared between the two of them, her hands swatting at her sides. "I'm not a child. I can do it mythelf."

"You just licked Anya's neck in the middle of a parking lot," Raven pointed out as she started the engine. "And that was after you told a random stranger that she's a whole ass angel."

"Yeah, she told her I was one inside as well," Lexa said as she clicked the buckle in place.

"Hence why we're not exactly trusting you or your motor functions right now, babe."

"But she is an angel. You are an angel," Clarke hummed, sending a hazy look of adoration to her wife while Lexa draped a blanket over her lap. "You're my angel."

"Say angel again," Raven snorted and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

"... Sure doesn't fuck like an angel though."

"Ew, no!" Anya thundered and flung herself backward out of the door frame, dramatically heaving twice before slamming the door shut hard enough to rock the entire car.

"Clarke," Lexa hissed as her wife continued to leer.

"Huh?"

Anya grunted as she whipped the front door open and climbed in. "Why did I agree to come to this?"

Clarke's lips pooched as she sent a very wet sounding smooch in Lexa's direction. "Don't be mad, baby. I like that you're nasty in bed."

"Oh my G-- Lexa, will you please muzzle her. No one wants to hear this."

"Speak for yourself," Raven gleefully cut in as she started to pull away. "Get it, Griff! Tell us the really freaky shit."

"She lets me--"

"Clarke!" Lexa yelled while leaning forward to get her attention. Glazed eyes blinked at her in slow passes as a pout spread across Clarke's face. Sighing when she was sure she had her wife's attention, Lexa reached up and tugged a curl of blonde behind her ear. "... I promise you, whatever it was you wanted to say just now, you would wholeheartedly regret saying it later. Especially to Raven."

"That's fair actually," Raven called back as she moved them through midmorning traffic.

Clarke shifted to reach for Lexa's hand, assuring her in what Lexa supposed could be a valiant attempt at a whisper. "Don't worry, baby. I wasn't gonna tell 'em about the butt stuff."

Eyes sliding closed as a chorus of retching mingled with cackling laughter from the front seat, Lexa sat back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair.

"Not a word."

"I'm not saying anything," Raven choked out through the dying rolls of her laughter.

The car fell quiet as they drove, Lexa looking out the window and letting her mind drift. She watched the cars and hills of the outskirts of L.A. fly past as they wound their way home. Despite… well, everything, she was glad this was finally over; the final expense officially checked off of their list of 'to-do's'. She idly tapped her fingers on the leather of her seat and admired the green hillsides, smiling to herself as she thought of what came next.

They hadn't told anyone when they'd made the decision to start looking through private listings, Lexa having sworn Anya to secrecy until they'd figured out an actual plan. She wondered if she'd miss the familiar drive to their apartment, the only home she'd truly known on Earth. She was excited, if not a little nervous, but ready to take the next step with the… absolute mess of a woman beside her.

Letting her head lull back over to check on her patient, Lexa startled a bit to find watery, blue eyes already staring back.

"What's the matter?" she hushed in a soft and concerned voice, scooting closer as she reached up to brush away a rogue tear.

"You're really hot... And tho pretty."

Rolling her eyes at the dreamy words, Lexa grinned back. "Not as pretty as you."

"My wife'th gonna be tho mad at me," Clarke whined and shook her head.

"... Why is your wife going to be mad at you?" she asked with a quirk of her brow.

"'Cause I think you're really hot," Clarke confessed through a fresh wave of tears.

"Seriously can you like, knock her out or something?"

"Shut up, Anya," Lexa said as she scooted the remaining distance between them. "Clarke, darling, I promise, your wife won't be mad at you for thinking I'm hot."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's your wife, genius," Anya drawled. "I still can't believe they trust that woman with human lives."

"You're just a little doped up right now," Lexa soothed even as reached out to flick her friend on the ear. "Don't worry though, I'll take care of everything. You just relax."

Clarke blinked owlishly at her for a minute, Lexa clearly able to see the cogs grinding to life through the fog of the drugs. She smiled and nodded as Clarke's face suddenly lit up, eyebrows shooting upward as her mouth dropped open.

"Oh yeah," Clarke beamed, her head wobbling back and forth as she flopped around a little in her seat. "That is you, innit. I forgot, ha. That'th crazy."

"It is."

"Man, I am high."

"You are."

"You should kith me."

"I should not."

Lexa nearly groaned as soon as the words left her mouth.

Clarke's face fell into a devastated frown, her lip trembling as her head fell to her shoulder. "You don't wanna kith me."

"Clarke, no, that's not it--"

"I knew it. I'm tho ugly now you won't kith me anymore."

"Oh my God, stop. Just, hang on," Lexa huffed. "Raven, do you have napkins or Kleenex in here? Anything?"

She waited as Anya rifled through the glovebox, accepting the fistful of napkins along with a deep look of disdain when she passed them back. Gently cradling her wife's chin, Lexa tilted her face back up.

"I'm gonna make you a deal," she murmured as she dabbed away as much blood and spit from Clarke's lips as she could. "I will kiss you. But. You have to let me kiss you. You just sit there, okay?"

Clarke bobbed her head in a tiny nod, Lexa's heart squeezing tight at the sad but hopeful face still cradled in her palm. Once she deemed those lips as clean as she could ever hope for given the situation, Lexa tossed the soiled napkins into the seat beside her.

Bringing her other hand up, Lexa held her wife's face between her palms, a smile spreading over her lips as she took in the sight of her. The sight of laugh lines that had begun reaching out from the corners of baby blues, their recent appearance reminding Lexa how happy their life together had proven to be. She admired the few twists of grey that weaved in and out of silken blonde, the effect of them making the woman look all the more distinguished.

Running her thumbs over the apples of delicate cheekbones, Lexa leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to her wife's lips. She hummed at the familiar feeling, soft and sweet as ever, her movements steady and light so as to not cause any pain. Pulling away, she left a last peck on Clarke's upper lip, forever a slave to sealing the little beauty mark with a kiss.

"Better?" she whispered as she watched Clarke's eyes flutter back open.

Clarke was quiet as she stared back, a long moment passing before she heaved a defeated sigh.

"I couldn't feel it."

Lexa did her best to bite back a snort of laughter, head dropping forward as her chest shook with the effort. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll kiss you plenty to make up for it when you feel better, I promise."

"We're here, lovebirds," Raven announced as she pulled to a stop outside of their apartment building. Lexa squeezed her shoulder over the top of the seat in thanks as she reached for the handle. "I'm gonna stay here so my lazy ass doesn't have to find a place to park, but I'm gonna call you guys later, okay?"

Grunting in acceptance as she opened her door, Lexa hopped out and ran around the back of the car to meet Anya on the other side. A few petulant protests and a very one sided bartering war later, Lexa pressed the button to shut the doors of the elevator in their building.

Sighing as she all but collapsed back against the rail of the elevator, Lexa reached out a hand to nudge her friend's shoulder.

"Thanks again, Ahn."

"Yeah, whatever," Anya grumbled, adjusting her grip on the woman sagged at her side.

If Lexa had had the energy she would've laughed at the pair of them, knowing full well Anya was supporting every inch of the woman's weight despite Clarke's staunch insistence that she could walk.

She reminded herself that her wife's stubbornness was part of why she loved her.

"Okay, here we go," Lexa rallied as the doors slid open on their floor. "Last stretch, love, and then you can rest."

"I wanna make nachos."

"Yeah, we'll have to see about that," Lexa shook her head as she jogged ahead to unlock the door, holding it open as Anya all but dragged Clarke through the entrance of their apartment.

"Where should I put her?"

"Bedroom."

"No," Clarke said with enough ferocity it startled the pair, taking Anya particularly by surprise when she elbowed her way out of the hold and launched herself toward the couch.

Lexa felt her heart jump up into her throat as Clarke nosedived toward the cushions, landing face first into the set of pillows.

"Clarke!" she yelped, darting around the couch and crouching over her. Biting back a twitch of annoyance, Lexa pulled the woman upward and helped her flip over. "Jesus, you have got to be more careful. You could've really hurt yourself."

"I'm fine, baby," Clarke slurred, glassy eyes shining behind the low droop of her lids. "I don't feel anything. You could punch me right in the mouf and I'd be fine."

"I'm not going to punch you."

"I might."

"Goodbye, Anya. Thank you for helping," Lexa blindly called over her shoulder, "but you can go now. Raven's waiting."

"Right, right, right," Anya said, rapping a knuckle on the wall as she turned to go. "I'll leave you to take care of the little missus. Call if you need anything. Feel better, doc."

"Byeeeeeeeeee," Clarke sing-songed out to her before the door closed, shimmying in place as Lexa helped her adjust on to her back. "She's gonna go makeout with Waben."

"What else is new," Lexa grinned and pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch.

Lexa moved to take off Clarke's shoes and socks, leaning down to peck a quick kiss to the wiggly toes before tucking them under the blanket as well. After placing the shoes in their home along the front hall of their apartment, she moved to ditch the balled up socks in the laundry despite the disgruntled yowl from the plump feline stationed on top of their washer.

The jingle of Penny's collar followed her as she went about collecting the supplies listed on the aftercare sheet, piling a tiny tray up with gauze squares, water, pain medicine, and snacks.

"That'd not nachoth," Clarke said with a sleepy grump of a frown as Lexa laid the tray on the coffee table beside her.

"Not nachos. No crunchy stuff, unfortunately. Doctor's orders. But may I offer you a bowl of our finest applesauce?"

"This is bullthit."

"I know."

"You did this to me, and I'll neber forgib you."

"I know."

"Will you cuddle wif me?"

Smiling down at her wife, Lexa simply nodded and quickly tied her back into a ponytail.

"Scooch," she hummed, toeing off her shoes before gingerly climbing over to the opposite side. Lowering herself as gently as possible, Lexa fit herself into the snug space between her wife and the back of their couch. She wriggled down enough to make sure she was safe from knocking into the already swollen jaw.

"Better?" Lexa whispered as she rested her head on Clarke's chest and draped an arm around her waist.

"Mhm," Clarke said, the drowsy weight of her hum sounding peaceful and warm.

"You can't sleep with those things in your mouth."

"Not thleepin'."

Giving up that fight before it could start and deciding she'd just slip them out once the woman dozed off, Lexa snuggled in deeper, breathing in calming lungfuls of her wife's scent.

The day had been insane, which after four years of marriage she was generally used to, but overall Lexa couldn't help but pat herself on the back. She knew when the medicine started to wear off they'd both be in a world of pain, but for now, she let herself relax into the peace of the moment.

Which was promptly broken by the faint buzz of Clarke's phone.

Sighing in annoyance, Lexa dug her hand under the blanket and into Clarke's pocket to pull it out. She thumbed in the passcode, muscle memory having her click 1203 for their anniversary without a thought, and tapped to open the notification.

Asshole (11:42 a.m.): so... you're gonna tell me about that butt stuff thing later right?

"For fuck's sake, Raven." With a disgusted sigh, Lexa closed out the message and slapped the phone on the table.

Snuggling back into the snoozing body beneath her, Lexa decided she'd just have to deal with that later.

#sorry for the ugly ass moodboard just go with it #clexa #clexaweek 21 #clexaweek 21 day 6 #day 6 magic #CoA

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kyuus4ku · 3 years

Text

𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

akutagawa ryunosuke

genre: minific ; angst

warnings: mild depictions of violence, profanity

word count: 3K

You didn't remember the last thing that happened before you lost consciousness, but you were getting the nervous feeling that you were about find out soon enough.

Before you dared to open your eyes, you heard hushed voices speaking with each other in a formal manner. After a while of distinguishing one voice from the other, you concluded that it was conversation between three people.

Each of their words were enunciated clearly enough for you to hear what they were talking about.

"We need the both of you to stay with each other for a day or two. It's not safe for you two to be out in the open for a while," you recognised this voice. It sounded like your superior— no, wait, yeah. It was your superior— Chuuya Nakahara.

"We weren't even hurt that badly," this voice caused your blood to boil as your heart raced in nervousness, yet you were careful enough not to let the discomfort you felt from being in the same room as this person show on your face.

"Besides, I just got a few wounds and-"

"My subordinate almost died," Chuuya's agitated voice cut in before Akutagawa could finish his sentence, "unless you'd be a little more matured about this situation, we don't mind finding someone else for the job."

Akutagawa's stunned silence made your heart triumph.

"Now, now," this third voice never failed to numb the nerves of your fingertips every time you heard it speak, "I believe we can reach a proper negotiation..."

Dazai's words trailed off, as if he were trying to think of a careful way to pronounce his next words without striking any chords that'd provoke the situation further.

"I know you two have had a... questionable history," you could sense that Dazai said this through smiling lips, "but keep your personal affairs out of it. It's purely business. The Black Lizard will handle the perp while you recover-"

"There should be another person available for this job," Akutagawa snapped.

The silence that ensued Akutagawa's brief tantrum raised the tension in the room.

"Don't cut me off," Dazai responded coldly, "I wasn't talking about you. That wound is going to take a while to heal, so we need to ensure that the protective measures are met."

"I doubt you're the only one who doesn't like this idea," you could sense that Chuuya was referring to you, "It's just for a day or so, then you two can go back to being colleagues... or strangers... or whatever the hell you two are to each other."

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I expect your cooperation, Akutagawa," Dazai cooed, that icy tone still evident in his voice, "Chuuya's subordinates can be quite problematic-"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"-but I know it'll be just fine. We'll send you out of town to a secluded house. Don't burn it down, and don't do anything naughty. Alright, so we just wait for- oh?"

You just realised the confusion that contorted your expression was more apparent than you had intended.

"Finally," you heard Chuuya sigh as he walked over to the side of the bed you were 'sleeping' on, "Wake up, nap time's over."

You opened your eyes to find both Dazai and Chuuya on either side of your bed, while Akutagawa stood at the corner of the room, arms crossed, with a look of pure distaste on his face.

"I knew you were eavesdropping," Dazai chimed playfully, "but that saves us the time to explain the current state of affairs, right?"

"But-"

"Not buts," Chuuya spoke up assertively, "you're injured pretty bad. We can't afford to lose you to some half-assed criminal. So do as we say, and it'll be over soon."

You caught a glance at Akutagawa, who looked like he was about to rip your spine out, and averted your eyes to Chuuya, eventually nodding begrudgingly.

"Can you sit up?" Chuuya asked. You wondered what could possibly make sitting up so difficult, until you found out the hard way: your abdomen was bandaged, rather tightly, and when you tried to straighten your back up, sharp bullets of pain shot through your body, making you yelp in discomfort.

"Easy, easy," Chuuya muttered as he held his hands out, offering his assistance. You dismissed him politely and after some time, you managed to sit up.

"What happened?" your mouth felt dry and your throat was parched. It felt like you hadn't spoken for weeks.

"I'll leave Akutagawa with the job of going through the details," Dazai's eyes switched from you to the grumpy boy in the corner, a smug smirk flashing across his lips, "this is going to be interesting. Two of our most capable subordinates in the same quarters... how about it, Chuuya?"

Chuuya sighed and took his coat, making his way to the door. Dazai's light steps advanced to follow behind him.

"It's nothing new... but I'm not up to the chaos they're 'capable' of brewing," Chuuya muttered, "as long as they don't kill each other. Don't do anything stupid, alright?"

He stopped and looked you in the eyes, and then shifted his gaze to Akutagawa. He nodded rigidly.

"Yes, sir," you responded to him as he made his way out. Dazai's sarcastic chuckle reached your ears before the door closed behind them.

"Wake up," you heard the clatter of dishes by your bedside, except that you were in a different place this time: they had already transported both you and Akutagawa away from the city.

Your eyelids cracked open to reveal the dimly lit bedroom. You were hidden from the morning sun's bright rays until Akutagawa briskly unshaded the windows, making you shut your eyes again.

"Good morning to you, too," you mumbled sarcastically as you strained yourself to sit up, ignoring how the stitches across your abdomen pulled at your skin uncomfortably.

"It's 8am. It's about time you get up," he bit back, coming to your side to arrange the cutleries on the tray in preparations to serve you breakfast.

"Tell that to my physically impaired body," your eyes caught his. There was a brief glimpse of sympathy discernible in his gaze, but it was almost immediately replaced by a stoic, impassive stare, as if he suddenly recognised who he was talking to.

He then started rummaging through your bag for a fresh pair of clothes and a set of new bandages. "Take your painkillers," he demanded stiffly.

He left your clothes and bandages at the edge of your bed and made his way out of the room silently. You sighed heavily as you tried to get out of bed with sore muscles.

You barely remembered what happened a few days ago: your opponent wasn't a tough one to fight, but the battle was nothing but a blur to your memory.

Akutagawa was there. You remembered how you two locked eyes with each other, as if it were a scene captured from a pathetic love story, before you felt the sickening warmth around your midriff as blood spluttered out to stain your clothes.

The enemy's mere dagger had pierced through your skin, drawing a huge gash across your abdomen. It was quite a simple injury compared to what you were used to, but the dagger had cut in too deep for its severity to be ignored.

Basically, you could've really died, and the fact that you were in the same quarters as Akutagawa made you wish that you actually did.

Though, it was weird. You were caught off-guard. You were trained to be more careful. You knew you were more cautious than that.

It isn't like you to get injured so easily, Chuuya's voice resounded in your head, echoing eerily.

You took no notice of all the thoughts threatening to send you into a whirlwind of self-loathing conviction. You'll prove yourself another time. For now, you just needed to get through this day you never wished you had to come to.

You saw that Akutagawa had provided some miso soup and what looked like steamed fish, chopped up and arranged nicely on a plate by the bowl. You smiled as needles of nostalgia pierced your soul, but quickly brushed away anything that threatened to soften your heart and got out of bed to freshen up.

There's no way in hell I'm going to stay with this bastard all day.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" twinges of annoyance surged through your temple as you heard his voice call you from the dining room.

"Going for a walk," you replied abruptly, briefly meeting his glare but turning your back to his eyes, which seemed to pierce the back of your shirt like sharp arrowheads. You reached out to get your coat from the coat stand by the door but was startled to find his grip around your wrist.

"Let me go," you huffed sternly, trying to wriggle your hand out of his tight grasp. But he glowered at you with so much resolve, as if going out would trigger the end of the world.

"You're injured, and you want to go out? How stupid can you be?"

"Whoa... what's with the attitude? I just want to get some fresh air."

"Fresh air? Don't be fussy. You're supposed to be resting in bed."

"Oh, and since when did you give a damn, Ryuu?" your vocals seemed to freeze when you called him by his first name. Akutagawa's eyes widened slightly as pangs of reminiscence made him let go off your hand, but he quickly regained his composure and put his guard back up, only to make things worse with his words.

"I don't give a damn about you," his tone was sharp enough to sever your heartstrings, "You never really changed, haven't you?"

"Give me a break. You're going to act all self-righteous again? After all this time?" a satirical smile shielded your damaged feelings.

"Self-righteous? At least I'm not as selfish and stubborn as you!"

Your face was hot with suppressed wrath, making the temptation to slit his throat—right here, right now— all the more appealing... but why... was your wound hurting more than usual?

His voice threatened to rise in volume and in temper, while you wrapped your arm around your waist as the aggravating pain became more unmistakeable.

"Dazai specifically instructed for us to stay out of the enemy's sight-"

"This again?!" your sardonic laughs filled the air, "It has always been that way, right?"

"Is this the part where you blow this argument out of proportion?" he raised his eyebrows in expectance.

"Don't get cocky, Akutagawa! It's always been Dazai this, Dazai that-"

"You're being irrational."

"Irrational?"

You started to feel lightheaded.

"Do you have something to say?" he instigated.

"Don't make me go there, Ryuu," you snarled back.

"You have no place to call me that," he hissed.

"I do whatever the fuck I want. You wanna know why things never worked out between us?"

You could tell your stitches were not doing their job— it felt like they were somehow loosening. Maybe it was because your entire being quivered with rage uncontrollably, or the fact that you were standing longer than you should. Either way, this wasn't how you planned to spend your morning.

"Enlighten me!" this was said through gritted teeth with eyes full of fury. At this point, he was fighting against the temptation to knock you out and bring you back to bed.

"You were soooo fucking obsessed with becoming Dazai's first choice," you hesitated for a while before finishing your sentence, "that you didn't realise you had been mine all along."

His face distorted in stupefaction once you had uttered those words with such finality. He knew that you meant it, and it seemed to provoke confusion in his mind and heart, because his face was riddled with unfathomable disorientation.

"I trusted you with my life, Ryuu!" you were surprised that you could bring yourself to shout, considering how physically weak you were getting by the minute, "but you always overlooked my concern for you. You were so damn fixated on becoming the best for your superior, that you overlooked the fact that you were really the best thing that happened to me!"

"Y-you're not making sense," his cast was that of a stunned child receiving the affection of a distant parent all of the sudden.

"You're right. I don't make sense. Maybe I am blowing this out of proportion," your voice came out in a ramble of indistinct words. You looked down to prove that you were right— your wound was bleeding through your clothes, staining your shirt with blood as your vision became distorted from all the pressure built up in your head and your heart.

"You're bleeding!" Akutagawa raced forward to catch you from falling, arms handling your waist carefully so as not to tamper with your wound, which was starting to bleed profusely.

"No shit," you mutter, eyelids blinking slowly while your head spun in circles.

"Stop talking. Those damn nurses..." Akutagawa clicked his tongue as he thought of what to do.

"Apply pressure... on it... or something," you mumbled incoherently.

"Since when did you get a doctor's degree?" he laid you down on the ground gently.

"Haha... very funny," you voiced groggily.

"Shut your mouth for fuck's sake!" his hand travelled to cover your mouth lightly while his other hand fidgeted to lift your shirt, deep worry building up in his chest.

"The more you speak, the worse you'll feel. Don't strain yourself," his voice was soft, almost as he was genuinely concerned for you.

You couldn't understand why he cared so much, and you didn't even know how to accept this hint of affection.

"Thank you," were the last words he heard before you passed out.

Your body was rested upon the rather stiff bed yet again, but your eyes danced around the room dreamily, searching for him.

Akutagawa had his head buried in his arms on the bed, next to your thighs.

You could barely move— your body felt heavy as trails of anesthetics lingered in your bloodstream. You felt a fresh set of stitches across your abdomen, except that the bandages covering them were a little looser, granting you a little bit more comfort than before.

Your fingers crawled to his head to stroke through his hair gently, making him stir slightly in his sleep. Once you saw the time— 4:43am— you realised that he had been by your side the entire time.

"Ryuu~"

As if gunshots had sounded in the very next room, his posture immediately bolted into an upright stance, as if ready to fight.

"I am awake, I am not sleeping, I was not sleeping," his words were all jumbled up and frantic, but he frowned moodily as he noticed you were laughing at him.

"About time," he yawned meekly, getting up to settle himself in his own bed, which was a short distance next to yours.

"No, no," you struggled a little to inch your body sideways on the bed to make room for him. He squinted his eyes suspiciously at you, but decided that resisting an offer like that seemed foolish at this hour. He rubbed his eyes and snuggled up next to you as you automatically pushed your back against his chest, sheets covering the both of you with warmth and safety. His chin rested on your head as his hands enveloped you from behind.

"Don't go accidentally falling in love with me again," he murmured, his deep voice making his chest vibrate slightly as you laughed scornfully.

"Says the one who confessed to me first," you earned a flick on the forehead for that.

The stillness of the night trapped the two of you in security that was so familiar, yet so unnatural at the same time. Neither of you wanted to let go of this moment, but the bitterness of knowing that such a thing wasn't possible was something you mutually wanted to ignore for now.

"This is nice," he mumbled sleepily.

"Mm..." you hummed, "back to strangers tomorrow huh?"

Strangers?

But weren't you the one that stood in between him and the enemy the other day, taking the injury that he was supposed to be dealing with right at this moment? He was the one who was supposed to be bedridden, not you. He was the one who was supposed to taste the tattered, bitter edges of death's sword, not you.

And yet he didn't dare tell you about what really happened. He didn't want you to know because he knew you cared too much for him, and that sort of care ate away at your soul, leaving behind only fragments for him to love, but never to keep.

And if you came to know of why you did what you did for him on that day, you'd throw yourself into that cycle of withering yourself away again, because loving someone and letting them go eventually is easy, but recognising the fact that you can never let go of this one person because of how much you loved them in the first place was not.

He didn't want to do that to you ever again.

Never again.

But how could he look at you through the eyes of a person who didn't know how you liked your coffee in the morning? Or how you preferred sweet foods over savoury ones? And how was he to forget the way your eyes glistened with sincerity when you told him that he was the best thing that ever happened to you?

Well, fuck.

"I supposed the tension has diffused a little," he replied, smiling slightly, "tread lightly."

"Easy, demon boy," your lips curled up into an egotistical smirk, "You're making it harder to let go."

I wish you never let go in the first place. You're a fucking idiot. I wish you stayed. What if you never left? What would've become of us... if you stuck by me through it all?

Then again, loving someone wasn't supposed to be painful. Why did you put yourself through all that pain?

Why did you go? Hell, why the fuck did you even stay in the first place?

But these were the thoughts he couldn't bring himself to utter.

He buried his face into your hair, and dozed off with you in his arms.

"Goodnight, Ryuu."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd fluff #bsd angst #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd akutagawa #bsd akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa headcanons #akutagawa hcs #akutagawa x you #akutagawa x y/n #bsd ryunosuke

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headinthestaticsky · 3 years

Text

Frozen within the Night Wind: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Book 3 Chapter 1

None of the characters in twilight belong to me, all rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

Summary: Fleur has never been in more danger than she has now. Not only does she have the revengeful and angry Victoria after her. But the Volturi is wanting to go after her as well. Will Fleur be able to stay human? Or will someone end up getting in her way?

"Baby, that isn't how they look tonight

It took the light absolutely forever to get to your eyes

And as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early?

It's the star treatment."

Star Treatment, By The Arctic Monkeys

Those speckled stars in the midnight sky are my possibilities of life, my fate.

That ocean is the course I will float through. It may be choppy and rough.

Or that tide that the moons controls will take me under.

Now in days, it always felt like that moon was going to take me in the water, pushing me down deep. I had multiple targets on my back and many deadly people trying to shoot their shots toward me. It seemed I had grown numb to the idea of my heart not beating anymore. It felt like a fate I couldn't escape. I should've known this would happen... I was dating someone whose heart had stopped beating over a hundred years ago. I would never blame him for my problems, of course, he couldn't control my sister's mouth as much as I wanted him to.

My dreams had started to get strange...Anytime I was "in" Victoria she was always alone. I felt her resentment, nervousness, and the constant hesitance of the people around her. I was always wondering what had happened to that man she had bitten. Leah and I hadn't talked since her dad had ended up getting killed, I hadn't seen Seth either. Bella and I had been worse than we had ever been. Seeing her still makes me sick to my stomach and Edward made me just as sick too. But I knew something was coming...and I knew that we would all have to stick together, whether we wanted to or not.

I was currently making my way down to the Cullens, I wanted to see Rosalie and Jasper, and Alice too. I couldn't stand to be in that house by myself with Edward and Bella not too far away.

Tell me, how am I to feel? Tell me how... I don't know if I can chill I need to scream it loud

Female Energy PT2 by, Willow Smith

I pulled into the Cullen's driveway and jogged up to the door, knocking softly. Jasper had always told me I never needed to knock and that I could just come in but, it always felt wrong not doing it. I looked through the glass and saw Rosalie smiling, she had more bridal magazines in her hands. Ever since she found out Jasper and I had gotten engaged she was gung ho on planning our wedding. I was convinced she could be a professional wedding planner.

"Fleur! You came right on time." I walked into the house and took my sweater off.

"Glad I made it on time... my rule is when Edward enters the house, it's time for me to leave the house." I joked.

"Oh, I'm sure they're driving you nuts."

"You have no idea... Is Jasper here?

"No, he went on a hunting trip with Emmett, Esme, Dean, Carlisle, and Alice, they'll be gone for the rest of the night."

"Oh okay. What'd you find?" I asked gesturing toward the pile of magazines.

"I was looking at wedding dresses perfect for forest weddings, and when the best time to have weddings at, as well as things you shouldn't have in a wedding because they can cause bad luck."

"Rose... Alice is starting to rub off on you isn't she?" I said a smirk was plastered on my face.

"Yes... I think she is."

"So, what do they tell us about what are the best dresses to wear?"

"Well, I was seeing a lot of lace, and most the dresses were short."

"I like lace."

"Good, we've made progress."

"I was thinking about having Lilies of the Valley for the main floral arrangements."

"You are reading my mind Fleur."

We were scanning through different magazines, pointing out some things I would want to have. The distraction was nice but soon enough those same thoughts crept back into my head. Rosalie noticed this and a concerned look was replaced with her joyful one.

"What's going on in that head of yours Fleur."

I sighed

"I'm just freaked out about everything...and these dreams about Victoria aren't helping either."

"You've had more dreams about Victoria?" She inquired, her face was full of shock."

"Oh...I didn't say anything about that did I?"

"No...what's she doing?"

"Well, the first dream I had of her again was while all you guys were gone. She had attacked some man but didn't kill him. The dreams of her I've had recently are just her alone... she seems so nervous now."

"I wish I could help you out with whatever's going on but, I can't do anything for your dreams."

"It's not your fault Rose... I just wish I knew why my dreams have been so accurate when it came to things involving her. Well... there was one other thing, but I'm not sure if Jasper told you."

"What's it about?"

"I was having dreams the night you guys had left, one of them I was standing on a random street corner, and Jasper was there driving a car. When he got a second look at me I disappeared. He had called me in the middle of the night and asked me how I found him."

"Oh my god...are you sure you're fully human?" She asked playfully.

"I don't know what the heck I am at this point," I said, chuckling.

"I have to admit, it's impressive... I've never even heard a vampire being able to do that stuff."

"I wish I could control it, the dreams cut off after a while."

"I wouldn't worry about it, for now, it comes into use for us when we've reached dead ends. You have to be hungry, why don't we take a break from wedding planning?"

"Sounds good... I'm starving!"

After I had finished dinner, it was late so I had decided to spend the night there. I pulled out my phone and called dad, so he didn't freak out about anything.

"Hey Petal, I was just about to call."

"Sorry dad, I'm over with Rosalie... we spent too much time wedding planning. I'm going to spend the night here since it's so late." I explained.

"That's fine, tell Rosalie I said hi."

"I will love you, dad."

"Love you too."

"I'm going to bed Rose, I'll see you in the morning."

"Alright, sleep well." She said.

I went up to Jasper's room and collapsed on the bed the Cullens had gotten for me. I was roused awake slightly a few hours later, those familiar cold arms wrapped themselves around me. I fell back to sleep a few seconds later. I awoke the next morning, the sun was burning my face. It was one of those rare day's the sun decided to make an appearance in Forks. I groaned and buried my face in one of the cush pillows behind my head. I heard a deep chuckle from the doorway.

"You never were a morning person were you love?" I heard Jasper ask...not matter how long I was here on this Earth, I would never get tired of his voice.

"I don't wanna get up...you can't make me."

"I technically could darlin, I am a vampire you know."

"But you're a nice vampire...you love me too much to wake me up."

"Edward and Bella will be coming over soon..." I shot up and looked at him, a grin on his face told me he was joking.

"I take it back, you're mean."

"If it'll make it up to you...I'll make you breakfast."

"As nice as that sounds... I better go, dad is probably waiting for me."

"Okay love, I'll see you tonight." He said, I kissed him before leaving, I bid everyone a goodbye in the lounge room and made it toward my car. The long drive back was going well until my car had broken down.

"Aww damn it..." I said, getting out of my car. I was still in the forest, the dead leaves were crunching underneath my feet. Before I could open the engine however I heard another set of feet coming toward me. I looked up and locked eyes with someone who looked familiar to me... his eyes were blood red.

"Fleur Swan... we meet at last."

#jasper hale x reader #rosalie hale #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #edward cullen #bella swan #twilight saga #twilight

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 18 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (17)

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Set Them On Fire

Today, you need the sun. You need it hot and bright, to offer you protection, to burn anything that comes out of the flames. But there are clouds in the sky, threatening to hide that damn ball of fire. Bouncing your leg, the only thing keeping you down to Earth is Billy's hand on your thigh, trying to calm you down. You had to call in sick today, telling Anthony both of you got a cold and passed on to the other. And now the manager of the pool knows you're living together. But it doesn't matter. This matters, setting those monsters on fire and being done with it.

“Relax, babe.” He says, squeezing your thigh a little, making you look over him. “It'll work.”

“It will.” You tell this more to yourself than to him.

Half an hour later you reach the only hole left, joining the party who gathers a few feet away, in the protection of the threes. When you step out of the car, you feel a rather cold breeze, the one that announces a storm. Max hands you the bat, which you gladly take, holding it tight. The kids are getting things ready. Well, they're helping Eleven, you're not sure how since she's the only one with superpowers, as she searches through the woods, making sure all the Demodogs are in the tunnels.

The idea is to use one of the robots to take a stick of small dynamite into the tunnels, so when it explodes, the fire will spread through the whole thing quickly, since it's basically soaking in gasoline. When Eleven finally stands up, taking off the fabric that was covering up her eyes, everyone starts moving.

“They're all in there. They already started digging again. We gotta do it now.” She says, and immediately, Mike gets the small robot ready.

“This takes thirty seconds to blow up, more than enough time to get in the there, drive it inside, and run back here.” He announces, standing up to his feet. “Who will go there?”

You were expecting then to be nervous, to push it around, not wanting to get too close to the hole, not when the clouds are threatening to give the Demothings a chance to hunt in the daylight. But no. They start arguing about who gets to go.

“Seriously.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair and pacing around. You just need this day to end. You just need the fire to catch.

“Hey, hey.” Billy reaches you as you walk away from the others, not wanting to listen to their arguments. The guys are fun to be around, and they manage to get a laugh out of you despite being sad about Jason, despite being anxious about the Demodogs, but now you just can't, not today. There's too much at stake. “Come here.” Billy hugs you, your arms embracing his midsection, head on his chest. He has this thing, you don't know how, you don't even know if he actually tries. But when Billy hugs you, the rest of the world vanishes. It doesn't matter how dangerous it is, Billy makes it all disappear.

“Everything I want to do right now is–”

“This is not the place or time to make out. Let's do this!” Hopper's thunder voice cuts you short, and you take a couple of seconds to swallow the anger before letting go of Billy.

“Let's go. It'll be over soon.” He bends over to place a soft kiss on your lips before taking your hand and walking over the party again.

Lucas won, he gets to put the robot near the hole. You watch as he does it, lighting up the dynamite and running back here as Mike moves the thing forward, making it disappear inside the tunnel. Dustin is counting down, and you close your eyes, your body frozen.

“Seven, six, five, four–” It happens, a small explosion followed by wild, high flames taking over the exit. It makes a weird noise as the fire spreads, but it soon vanishes, fading away as it takes over the tunnels underground. “I must have miscalculated.”

“It's working,” Eleven says, focused, blood coming out of her nose. “I can feel them dying.”

“Great,” Hopper says, a gun in hand, ready to act if things go south.

You're allowing yourself to relax now, despite the clouds covering up the sunlight, and the thunder that can be heard somewhere from above. The rain won't put down the fire, it'll keep burning for several hours, until all the gas is consumed. All the Demodogs will be nothing but ashes by then.

Several minutes pass by, and a light rain starts falling. Summer storms are unpredictable, they come suddenly, and can either last ten minutes before the sun comes out again or two days. But it doesn't matter. Nobody seems to be bothered by the water so there's no reason for you to overthink.

“Can't we go now? It's done, isn't it?” Robin asks, removing some of her hair that's glued to her face. “It's pouring.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve answers, his eyes, like everybody else's, on the flames, coming out of the hole. “I think this is it.”

Eleven breaks out of her state, taking a deep breath and turning around. “I think we can go.”

You're relieved, if the words can even express how you feel right now. You're grip on the bat loosens, and you lay it on your shoulder.

“Home, then. A little party to celebrate?” Steve suggests, and they murmur in response, obviously excited.

But a groan, a snarl, building up from a low whisper to a loud, disgusting noise shut them up. Slowly, all eyes turn back to the hole, and your heart stops when you see it. When you actually see the thing making that noise.

As it crawls out of the tunnel, yelling, groaning in pain, it's skin falling apart, you immediately recognize it, despite never seen the thing. This Demodog just evolved into the full thing, eight feet tall massive Demogorgon. Now, the rain is a problem. Out here, with the water hitting its skin, the fire is being put out.

“Hopper, start shooting!” Joyce yells, and Hopper moves, blasting that thing, and despite some painful growls, it also gets its attention, and now, it's looking over here. At you. And when it starts moving, the commotion starts. Everyone who knows how to use a gun has one, Billy included, and the shooting begins.

You wish you could be brave. You really wish you had the courage you had when Neil attacked Billy. To just go there and beat the shit of this... This... Thing. But instead, you freeze, unable to move, just looking at the monster, and it comes towards you.

“(Y/N)!” Billy's voice reaches you at the same moment you feel his arm around your waist, pulling you back. “C'mon.”

You don't know what comes to you. The kids are so brave, they have been dealing with these things for a while now, and you just... You can't move. You can't think. Your eyes can't believe what they're seeing, your legs won't obey your commands. You're just... Paralyzed.

“Take her away. Now.” Someone says, and you feel yourself moving when the Demogorgon jumps, moving way too fast for something so big, landing right among you, splitting the group in half.

It's close now, close to you. It lowers his head, not seeming to the bothered by the many bullets hitting its skin. You see it, looking right at you with no eyes, and its head opens, slowly, and you feel like you're inside a nightmare, the worst nightmare you could ever imagine.

It happens fast, and it snaps you out of your numbness. Billy pushes you away, raising his gun, shooting the creature until there are no more bullets left. Then you see it, you feel it, the thing ready to jump over Billy. That makes you move. From your state, you hold the bat with all the strength left in your body, stepping forward and swinging it right into the Demogorgon's head. The nails pierce through its already sore skin, burned, peeling off, and when it moves back, flinching away, you pulled with it, only letting go of the bat when you stumble down, a sharp pain on your knee and right forearm.

“Everybody get back now!” Eleven shouts and you're quickly pulled up, right into Billy's arms as he moves both of you away from the thing.

Holding on to Billy, you see as Eleven steps forward, furious, raising both her hands. Then, the impossible, which insists on reminding you it's not impossible anymore, happens again. The flames start flowing out of the tunnel, like a fireball, creeping through the woods, leaving a trail of fire on its way here. On its way to the Demogorgon. In a violent push, Eleven lowers her arms, and the fire swallows the creature, which makes the most horrifying sounds you ever heard. It tries to fight it, to run, to attack, but by the looks of it, Eleven is holding it back too.

The groans are deafening, and you can't look anymore, hiding your face on Billy's neck. It only gets worse, louder, and the rain falling on you feels hot. Then, it stops, and before you can process what happened, you're pushed back in a wave of power, both you and Billy hitting the ground hard. Your first instinct is to look at the monster, sitting up abruptly, checking if its anywhere near you. But you see nothing. Nothing but ashes falling down with the rain. It's gone, disappeared.

“Damn it.” Billy groans and your attention falls on him.

“Billy.” With a hand caressing his cheek, you quickly check for any injuries. “Are you alright, baby?”

“I will be after I wash the Demogorgon's ashes off.” By the comment, he's ok, so you lower yourself to kiss him, over and over again, until you hear someone clearing their throat behind you.

“We're all fine too, thanks for asking.” Robin comments.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, stumbling back to your feet and almost falling back down on the process. “Maxine? Dustin, Steve... All the rest. Mike? Lucas, Joyce...” As you look around, you mentally count, making sure everyone is alive and well.

“Everyone is here.” Eleven says, a tired smile on her lips as Mike hugs her. “They're gone. All of them. I double-checked.”

Breathing out, you run a hand through your hair, a laugh escaping your lips when Billy hugs you, lifting you up. “I told you, princess. We'll be just fine.”

The drive home is chaotic. Everyone is dirty with rain, mud, dirt, and Demogorgon ash. And also blood, since you save a graze on your forearm and a wound on your knee.

Back home, as Lucas and Maxine fight over who will get to shower first, Billy lets you go first, as usual, and when you're done, you have to go and pacify the young couple. Lucas decided to let Maxine go first, and the fighting ends. As you wait for Billy, you clean the wounds, noticing they're not as bad as you feared. Lying down on the bed, you close your eyes, thinking about Jason. You only wish it all happened before, so he'd still be around, but it feels good to know nobody else will get hurt. That you had a part in it, even though it was so tiny.

“So...” Billy says, and you open your eyes when you feel the mattress moving under his weight. “We got our summer back. Whatever is left of it.”

“We still have three weeks until college.” When you notice he's coming to stand above you, you push him back, climbing over him instead. “Then it'll be crazy. Will you really go on with that routine? Drive to Indianapolis Monday morning, drive back here Friday after class?”

“Yeah.”

“It'll be tiring.” You explain, lowering yourself until your face is only an inch away from his.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure that–”

“Stop trying to make me change my mind about it. I want this crazy, exhausting routine because I want this. Me and you, together. I want this.”

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile. “I love you, Hargrove.”

“Love you too, future Mrs. Hargrove.”

• • •

Life has fallen back into the old pace. Now, only two weeks left of summer, you use your free time to hang with your friends and Billy. You finally feel safe to stay out at night again, but the pain for missing Jason is still very real. You visit his grave once a week at least, mostly with Monica, holding her as she cries. But other than that, the rest is getting better. Steve still teases you, Mike doesn't let go of the incident in his house, Lucas and Maxine keep fighting like a married couple, Joyce and Hopper decided to replace your parents, worrying way too much about your relationship with Billy. Diane comes to visit every once in a while... Life is good, and you're enjoying it.

Today, you just returned home from having lunch with Monica, closing the door shut and throwing the car keys on the table. Billy is on the chest bench, and as you stop to watch, he gives you a look and a wink.

“Almost done here, princess.” He says as you walk closer, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You simply say before sitting on his lap, straddling his hips. “Do twenty more.”

“Why do you always find a way to bug me when I'm working out?” He rolls his eyes, not bothering to stop lifting the weight.

“One...” You start, giggling. “Two... Three.”

“I've been here for half an hour. I'm tired.”

“Four. I can see, you're all sweaty. That's disgusting. Five.” Billy fakes an angry face, raising his leg and kicking your back, forcing you to fall against his chest. “Billy!”

You move to stand up, but he presses the bar in your back, trapping you down. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Alright. Let me up.”

“Only if you kiss me.”

“If you don't let me up I won't kiss you for a week.”

“I heard that before. It lasted an hour.”

“Uhm...” You're looking at his lips as he speaks, immediately regretting what you just said. “You're so lucky you're a good kisser.” Giving up that stupid idea, you kiss him, feeling when he puts the weight away, arms coming to hug you.

“What the hell.”

“Ignore them,” Maxine says, and when you raise your head to look, you see as she drags Eleven to her room.

“Now that we were interrupted, let's get ready.” He stands up as he speaks, carrying you with him.

“Ready for what?”

“I told you I'd take you somewhere special. And today is the day so wear something nice.”

It doesn't matter how many questions you make, Billy won't say a thing.

You choose to put on a light blue dress, since he told you to dress up nice, despite not knowing where he's taking you. You were thinking about a restaurant, the mall, one of the cute snack bars, but when we start driving out of town, you don't really know what to expect.

“I'm gonna need you to close your eyes from now on.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. C'mon.”

Giving him an exaggerated eye roll, you do as he says, knowing he'll be checking you. After a couple of minutes, he stops the car, telling you to wait. He then opens the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out. “Can I?”

“No. Wait.” He covers your eyes with both his hands, and you walk carefully. You feel a fresh breeze messing with your hair, the wild smell of the woods filling your nose. “Look now.”

You open your eyes when he removes his hand, and what you see is nothing less than Hawkins, the tiny houses down there, as you stand some feet away from the cliff. A smile immediately spreads through your lips, as you admire your home from afar. “Billy, this is... Amazing.”

“I knew you'd like it.” He hugs you from behind, resting his head on the top of yours. “Since you love this city so much, I thought this would be the right place.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you turn around to look at him. “The right place for what?”

Smirking, Billy searches for something in the pocket on the inside of his jacket. Raising an eyebrow, you step away, crossing your arms. “I will make the right question this time.” He takes a small, dark blue box. Your eyes go wide and your heart starts drumming in your ears, as your mind tries to process what's happening, telling yourself not to think what you're thinking.

“W-what question?” Stuttering, you keep looking into his eyes as he opens the box, pushing the hair away from your face since the wind is making it fly wildly.

Slowly, very slowly, you lower your stare to the box, now open, and you see two rings. “Right here, with the whole town as my witness, I want to know if you would, someday, be my wife.”

“Yes.” This time, you don't fight it. You can just let the word roll out your tongue. “Yes, baby.”

The smile that comes to his lips it's the most beautiful thing in the whole world. Billy takes your hand, putting the ring on your finger and you do the same soon after. “Was it the right question this time?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hargrove.” Rolling your eyes, you pull him closer, standing on your toes.

“As you wish, princess.”

The kiss tastes like a promise. Like pure and complete bliss. This is where you're supposed to be, Hawkings, a small town, so different from everything you ever experienced. And, despite the moments of terror you've been through, you'd go through every single one of them a hundred times over if it only meant you'd end up here, with Billy's lips on yours, his arms holding you so close. In your own particular heaven.

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#billy hargrove x reader #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction

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artistclock · 3 years

Text

ABENROT

(n.) the color of the sky while the sun is setting

By: Cherry Mae Parohinog

There are white canvases all over the place. The enticing smell of the acrylic paint gets her euphoric. The easel is crafted of beautiful wood and stands tall just for her. A paintbrush's fluffy bristle. The brightly colored paint tube neatly stacked on the table. The wooden floor is smeared with rainbow hue stain; she knows it's a mess, but it's chaotically colorful to her.

Van Gogh once said, "If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint, then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced."

She lived for that. The noises in her head were too loud; she wanted to hush them through painting. She'll play with them and make them vanish. She will create a universe in which her subject can be anything.

We all clueless people trying to figure out what to do.

However, this is not the case for her. Art is what keeps her earthly body from deteriorating. The purity of it, as well as the vibrant elements. Art is what fuels her fire. She is yearning for art. This is where her life will take her: to live passionately.

She has complete control over her decisions. She gets to decide what she wants to do. And that is creating art and becoming immersed in it. This is the fuel that keeps her going.

As she stroked a fine line, the black ink kissed the canvas. She pushed her palm gently, almost as if it were a feather. She does not want to ruin her creation.

Her paintings were mostly abstracts, but his face may be found all over her room.

The old grandfather clock sings. It's already five o'clock in the afternoon. She was engrossed in her reveries and didn't notice the passing of time. She stared in the mirror; she has paint on her face, arms, and palm, in addition to her face! She appeared to be puking rainbows. She needs to take a shower!

But she has a sinking feeling. She's always concerned about something. Her anxiety is killing her. She wrinkled her nose. Please, not right now.

She heard a noise as she swirled around in delight. It's a scream, not a scream! Her mother's anguish. She doesn't want to admit it, but its right in front of her. She dashed down the stairs, her mother screaming and bowing and holding her father's knees, asking her not to leave them. Her father, on the other hand, holds firm in his determination to leave their home and be with his mistress. Her father's harsh comments have lingered in her mind. His gentle eyes have vanished. Her mother yelled that she was going to commit suicide, but her father merely laughed like a demon, even encouraging her mother to do it. What a jerk!

With shaking feet and clouded vision, I peered into the entryway. She noticed her father getting ready to leave, two hand-carry bags on each side of him. For the last time, her father smiled at her. He used to be her hero without a cape. What happened now? When he shut the door, her father had vanished in the late afternoon light.

You've become everything you said you'd never be.

She tries to scream her father's name, but it only comes out as a whisper. Her mother's gaze was fixated on the door. She'll be the one who strengthens them both now that one of them is weak. This is not the time to be weak.

This is a broken family. She was like a stray lamb. Everything was jumbled and disorganized.

She ran as fast as she could toward the direction she knew would soothe her feelings. She couldn't stop herself from gasping. Her lungs clenched and her chest heaved furiously. Her hands were resting on her knees. Her lips felt parched. Her face was wet from sweat and tears, which were mixing and dripping at the same moment, but the salty air was defying it. She collapsed on the sand due to tiredness.

Why am I being drawn back to the world I was trying to avoid?

You're not alone. You're not alone since your paint and canvas are waiting for you, right? You're still colorful, she assured herself.

She finally noticed the broad stretch of white sand. The magnificent red and orange sunset resembled a massive fireball. The sky appeared to be magnificent. Because of the golden brightness of the setting sun, the sea glistened with flame. The waves slammed on the coast, sweeping up and down. The palm trees swayed in time to the winds dancing. They complement each other nicely. The serenity of the field and the chirpings of the birds. She can't quit admiring it. She could live here forever.

She raised her hand with the colors in it, as if she could touch the view in front of her. She will never give up all hope.

This will come to an end soon.

For a little moment, she found solace in this place. The beautiful pink sky above her were turning purple. The chilling breeze. The clamor of the waves. The wind's whistling caresses her silky skin and gently flies her hair. She clutched her knees to her chest and reached for some fine white sand, which slipped easily between her fingertips. She flashed a grin.

Isn't it true that God is a sculptor? How did he figure out that blue had to be the color of water, or is blue the color of water? Is it science? Regardless of the explanation, she is enthralled by the beauty, peace, and hues it gives.

She bit her lower lip and reveled in the peacefulness of the surroundings. It provides her enough peace to forget about the pain for a while.

She felt numb and cold all of a sudden, so she grasped her porcelain and thin left arm and pushed her long nails firmly. The dents are visible to her. It has the appearance of a crescent moon. She let out a long sigh.

He'll be here in ten minutes.

She took out her sketchpad while she awaited his arrival. She drew a line in the paper recklessly till she forgot about the agony. This is her way of letting go of her disappointment, but everything was gloomy. It's lifeless.

As he sat next to her, the soft air blew alongside his heavy footfall. In a slouch stance, he made himself at home. He has an expensive, manly, and ferocious scent. He gave her a dark look when he realized how carelessly she was sitting, so he removed his black jacket and laid it on the sand. His V-neck white shirt stretched to fit his huge chest. He motioned her to take a seat. Her dumb heart throbbed. And the butterfly in her gut was almost making her nauseous.

When his warm hand began to caress her cheeks, she flinched. Her tears had dried up from crying, but he was still wiping them away. He washed away the paint that had been carved into her skin. When his palm brushed her face, it felt warm. Her breath came to a stand as she watched him delicately kiss the back of her palm, enthralled by the moment. The heat from his lips was instantly transferred to her skin. His touches were soft and delicate. Before glancing up at her, he licked his lower lip. His lips turned red, and his intense look was too much for her to bear, but his loving eyes were soothing her down. She can see herself reflected in his eyes.

He's truly a benevolent man. She squeezed his hand, conveying her gratitude and saying how much she missed him. He cocked his head and smirked.

He hoisted her into his arms and strode down the beach path. He understands what needs to be done. Her jumbled thoughts were washed away by the sea. They both burst out laughing. He laughed up and smiled at her as he flung his head back. This is the kind of smile that makes you feel secure. That's the kind of smile he has. His typical youthful grin. The way he blinks his eyes, chews his lips, and rakes his fingers through his hair. She was completely mesmerized.

Perhaps it means nothing to him, or perhaps it was simply a simple gesture, but it has a magical effect on her.

From where she sat, she gave him a glance. Arms at akimbo and now topless. He showcasing his ironclad chest and big guns. His worn blue jeans hung loosely about his waist. What a beautiful sight to see. Her breath became tangled instinctively. He had stubble on his strong, well-structured jaw, giving him a rugged appearance. His jaw's five o'clock shadow told her that. He has these obsidian orbs, and there's a spark of cunning in his eyes. His dark hair was disheveled and silky to the touch. His lips were curved, giving him a sly grin. His veins showed on his forearm screamed violence to her.

Despite the fact that he appeared tough and manly, she admires him.

She chuckled for a moment before remembering why she was there. It was unsurprising that those around her preferred to leave and ignore her. If they stay, she'll be much more surprised.

And he did. He's different. He stayed with her.

Their legs were touching. They stood there watching the sun set in the west. It appeared to be magnificent. His skin has been sun-kissed, and his glow is dazzling. His face was highlighted by the hue of the sunset. She was a little envious of it. He appears to be eternal. It's some of the most beautiful scenery she's ever seen.

For me, it'll just be him.

This is the right time. She wore her heart on her sleeve, ready to utter her lines but then the words failed her.

Why do things don't go always the way we want them to?

She noticed him staring at the girl with those gentle and tender eyes she admired so much. Her heart shattered as she saw him stand up and move away from her to approach the woman. The woman came to a halt in her tracks as she gracefully whirled around to face him. They looked at one other as if they were the center of the universe.

She the creator of her catastrophe. And this is one of her destruction.

The scene is just too pure. She is aware that this will happen, but she allows this emotion to consume her.

Oh, sunset, you're finally going down. Beautiful, but it must come to an end.

The cool breeze blew in and crawled into her skin. She wants to paint him. He's going to be her subject. For the last time. They appeared to be a couple in old images. She plans to paint them. And it'll be a masterpiece.

She gazed out at the vast sea. It was getting dark, and she could see stars strewn throughout the sky. Her felt body began to deteriorate. Isn't here where the sun first began to rise and set?

She let go of someone who wasn't supposed to be her. All she have left are memories of them. She know when it's time to admit defeat.

Just in one day, she saw her life faded in front of her.

#sunset #creativewriters #creativestory #artistry #descriptive #creative writing #writing #sky #words words words

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freddieslater · 4 years

Text

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Barry Allen x Iris West x Leonard Snart (The Flash)

Requested by @wonderdoves

He's not allowed to go anymore. It's all Barry hears in the lecture he gets from Joe when he brings him back from the prison again. Third time this week, he catches, refusing to look at him. Have to stop.

"No," Barry says flatly. And then he's running up the stairs and slamming the door to his bedroom shut. It's not his bedroom. It's just some guest room, currently holding the poor foster kid he had to take in.

True to his word, Barry doesn't stop. He wants to see his dad. He knows he didn't do it, no matter what anyone says. But apparently Joe swayed the prison into not letting Barry visit. Makes a point of telling him as much at breakfast, as if he can sense his plans.

Barry doesn't say a word about it, just eats his cereal in deliberating silence. And as soon as he's done and on the path to school with Iris, he takes a left turn in the wrong direction.

"Barry," Iris says, making him pause to look back at her. Her expression's confused, but her eyes are full of worry. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere," he says, shrugging. Then he takes off.

He's never exactly been the fastest runner. Still, Iris doesn't try to follow. It's good, he wouldn't want to get her in any trouble. He doesn't care the same for himself.

No one questions the little kid wandering the aisles of a store, no one paying enough attention to see him slipping candy bars and strange little juice things barely the size of his hand into his pocket as he goes. Not when he actually has money to pay for the two things he sets on the counter when he's done.

Then it's back to wandering through the streets of the city, but at least he has chocolate now. It's not what he would like to be doing, but it's better than being at school and abiding by all of the dumb rules they're trying to enforce on him because he's "out of control" according to his teachers, and Joe, even the headmaster.

But around comes lunch and he's bored, so he finds himself slipping through a gap in the fence into the playground. He spots Iris. Alone. She's just sitting on the ground, back against the wall, flipping through homework.

It brings a small smile to his face. Approaching her, he sits down beside her unnoticed until he taps her knee with one finger.

She startles and her head whips up, eyes wide. But then she sees it's him and her features relax. Not too much, he notices; she still seems tense.

"I didn't think you were coming," she says, but her voice gives away that she's glad he did.

He starts to respond, mouth opening, but he's cut off by quick and heavy footfalls rounding the corner they're tucked behind.

A couple of boys. One's who have never liked Barry, and Iris through association. He can already tell that this isn't going to end well by the looks on their faces when they come up short and realize they're there.

In all honesty, Barry doesn't catch much of what happens. He's gotten used to tuning insults out that his brain just sort of automatically does it on its own. But he hears the words "mommy", "dead", and "orphan", and none of them are used with all that much sympathy.

Next thing he knows, he's on his feet and swinging for the closest one. His fist makes contact, hard, and he just keeps going. There's blood, he thinks, but he can't figure out where it's coming from as they end up on the ground.

There are rough hands pulling at his shoulders and he thinks Iris' voice is there somewhere. But all he can focus on is the bubbling anger that's been boiling inside of him for weeks now, at the man who really killed his mom, the police, Joe, even his dad for not fighting to see him.

The other boy isn't fighting back, he registers faintly, his hands pushing at him instead to try and topple him. Then a fist makes contact with the side of his face and he falters, thrown off balance.

It's long enough for them to shove him off. His elbow scrapes off the ground and his head hits it with a thud that makes a dull pain shoot through it. But it doesn't feel so bad. It actually feels good. Even the stinging in his hand.

There are shouts now, deeper, older voices. More footsteps hurrying in their direction.

He tilts his head, catching a glimpse of the boy, being carefully hauled up by his friends. There's dark splotches on the ground, and when Barry manages to look at the boy's face, he finds it covered in red. Blood streaming from his nose, his forehead, his mouth, even the back of his head. And he's crying. Kind of screaming, actually.

Barry feels a hand taking his and he looks to his left. He finds Iris next to him. Holding his hand. His hand that's scraped at the knuckles and covered in someone else's blood.

Her eyes are wide and terrified and shining more than he wants them to ever. But she swallows and just holds his hand a little tighter with a smile. One that says I'm with you. No matter what. Even after that. It makes him feel a little less lost and alone.

Security cameras. How did he forget to avoid the cameras this time? Because he's eleven, and it just didn't really cross his mind.

But they did. Joe has to talk to other police officers because of it. And because of that kid. A broken nose, concussion, and some damage to his mouth. They said he was lucky there was no permanent damage to his eyes as well.

Barry feels a little stir of regret. He just snapped. But the kid started it, and he didn't even want to be at school in the first place. He wanted to see his dad.

Joe's talking to the principal, too. The parents aren't happy. The store owner isn't happy. Barry hears him try to come to his defence; he's eleven, he's a kid, he's traumatised and grieving, he's in pain, he just needs help and support.

Maybe he's right. But Barry doesn't want his help. He doesn't want his support, because he won't give it to him where it matters most. He still doesn't believe him.

This isn't the first time he's been in trouble.

"He's been caught stealing before," the store owner says.

"He's violent and aggressive and is in fights far too frequently," the principal says.

"He's broken school property." "He's damaged store property." "--public property." "Truancy." "Vandalism." "Theft." "Fights." "Hospital."

"Acting out." "Scared." "I can help him."

"Pressing charges." "Needs discipline." "Out of your control." "Just a foster kid."

Barry chews on the inside of his cheek, biting it until he can taste blood. Iris is silent next to him, but he can feel her fear. Not his own. He's not afraid.

"A juvenile detention facility will just teach him a lesson that he needs to learn. It'll be better for him."

The hearing goes through. A couple hours of community service. It could be worse, Joe reasons. Barry doesn’t say anything.

Cleaning graffiti from windows is his punishment. Barry doesn’t entirely think that this is an eleven year old’s job, but apparently complaining about it will only make it worse. Not that he cares either way, but it at least gets him out of that house.

It’s working in silence mostly, the other kids scattered out in the vicinity, doing other jobs. The supervisor is around somewhere, but not close by, fortunately. It’s actually kinda boring. Right up until--

“Psst. Barry.”

He glances around for the source of the familiar voice, and he finds it. Iris’s head, peeking out of an alley on his left. He relaxes, starting to smile, then hesitates.

“What are you doing here, Iris?” he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested, and with real suspicion. A touch of bitterness. “Did your dad send you here to keep an eye on me?”

She looks hurt. “No. I told him I was going to Dinah’s house to study. I just wanted to see you. You’re always in your room.”

Barry softens, and he lets himself smile this time. Iris then glances at the graffiti-ed window and her face scrunches.

“That doesn’t look fun,” she notes. “At all.”

“Wanna give it a go?” he jokes.

Iris scoffs. “And do it all for you? I don’t think so.”

Barry rolls his eyes, but he laughs. A laugh bubble up out of her chest as well, and it makes his heart skip a beat. As if it’s a few months ago, when everything was good and fine. It feels so familiar.

Then his eyes dart off to the side and he catches sight of a group of boys making straight for him, and he knows he’s in for it. Especially since the leading boy has a black eye and bruised face, and his nose looks a little wrong in some way. And he looks pretty intent on revenge.

“Go,” Barry quickly tells Iris, who’s eyes are wide now that she’s spotted them, too. But she shakes her head. “Run, Iris,” he hisses. “Run. Please.”

She listens. He watches her take off out of the alley and down the street. The boys pay her no mind; she’s not the one they want. Unfortunately for him, he can’t even run away this time unless he wants more hours of service.

Barry swallows, but stays where he is, tilting his head up. A bad move, he decides, because suddenly the kid’s on him and he’s just given him access to land a blow on his jaw.

It hurts. A lot. It throws him enough that he doesn’t have time to react before the boy’s throwing another punch, straight to his stomach this time. It winds him and he doubles over. Then it’s punch after punch, the sharp kick of a shoe. He doesn’t try and fight back.

The numb pain is actually soothing. Like all of the turmoil, the anger that’s been boiling like a brewing storm thundering inside of him, it’s all draining out of him with each blow.

His head’s starting to feel like it’s detaching from the rest of him and sitting up high on a cloud when there’s a shout. For a moment, he thinks it’s just from one of the boys, probably mistaking a laugh.

“Get out of here unless you want me to show you how this pocket knife works,” an unfamiliar voice says, strangely calm, but low in a dangerous way. “Or I can just get my buddy to light you up. How do you like the sound of feeling your skin sizzling and peeling off your bones until you’re just a puddle of flesh?”

The blows stop coming. Barry faintly catches the sound of hurried footsteps, now running in the opposite direction. Someone actually scared them off, he thinks in disbelief. That’s a first.

He cracks his eyes open, and it feels like an effort for at least one of them. A boy comes into sight above him, standing over him. His expression matches his voice. Calm, but something dangerous in the cold, glinting eyes. Like ice.

But he reaches a hand out to him. Barry gingerly takes it, and finds himself faced with Iris appearing at the mystery boy’s side. She’s crying.

“Your girl ran into me, and she was a mess, so.” The boy waves a hand like it’s a good enough explanation for a question that wasn’t asked. He eyes him, then the window. “Ah. You’re the new kid, right?”

Barry’s eyebrows furrow, his attention divided between taking Iris’ hand to reassure her he’s okay. “Uh, new to...to...?”

“The legal system. Juvie.”

The boy raises an amused eyebrow at him. Barry’s finally able to register details about him and notices that he must be a couple of years older, maybe thirteen, fourteen. Probably why the boys ran off. That, and the good few inches he has on all of them, not to mention the threat of a pocket knife that Barry can’t help but glance at his pockets for any sign of now. Just in case.

Barry just stays quiet.

“Thank you for helping...” Iris steps up, raising her chin. She trails off pointedly.

The boy stares for a moment. His eyes that Barry are realizing aren’t just cold like ice, but are the colour of it as well, flick between them. Then a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Snart,” he answers her silent prompting. “First name’s Leonard, but call me that and I will shiv you. Don’t have to be in juvie to carry one on you.”

Iris’ hand tenses in Barry’s, and admittedly he’s a little intimidated. But then Iris laughs. He glances at her like she’s out of her mind, but the pain in his head must be getting to him, because a slight chuckle escapes him as well.

“Noted,” Barry says.

“Does that mean that people call you Leo?” Iris asks, and she’s teasing. She is teasing the older boy who just threatened a group of kids with a pocket knife and clearly knows his way around the legal system better than them. “Or is it just Snart?”

“No one calls me Leo,” he answers coolly, but there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I highly doubt I’ll be seeing either of you again. No need to be on an any name basis.”

He turns his stare back to Barry, and something about his expression tells him that his own face isn’t looking so good right now. He winces for him, actually looking almost sympathetic.

“Piece of advice for you, kid,” he says, “run away next time. Or find yourself someone to look out for you. That’s what I did, and I’m still alive.”

He then turns and walks away. Finally, he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, flipping a knife between his fingers like it’s a game.

Iris tugs on his hand, bringing his attention back to her concerned gaze, her hand gently reaching up to his face but not quite touching.

“Come on, we need to do something about this,” she says, and she makes him abandon his window in favour of finding the supervisor.

Barry’s community service is due to end, but apparently skipping out on doing it only lengthens the punishment. He’s sure that stealing a couple more things from a store probably didn’t help.

Breaking the rules of his community service, they say to Joe. Needs more extreme measures. Isn’t learning anything. Not enough discipline. Barry could already feel what was coming.

His community service doesn’t extend, but becomes a two-week sentence to a juvenile detention facility. Joe tried to fight that, too, but he seems wearier. More hopeless. Like he’s slowly realizing that nothing he’s doing is working on him.

And he hasn’t exactly been too happy about Iris hanging out with him when he’s skipping his hours. Or accepting half a stolen chocolate bar from him, waiting around the corner. Barry doesn’t see the problem. That doesn’t seem to help.

So, when the sentence is given, there isn’t as much of a fight. From Iris, there is, but Barry shrugs it off and says it’s fine. He’s only been at the facility a couple of hours, but it doesn’t feel so bad. There’s a room, and food.

And it’s boring.

Then, at last, he gets a sliver of hope that these two weeks aren’t going to be as dull and torturous as they seem. He spots Snart across the room, sat on a table, in conversation with a slightly taller, slightly older, even more intimidating boy.

It’s probably a huge risk to just approach someone in juvie, Barry thinks. So, he does exactly that. Walks right over to them, practically unnoticed by mostly everyone else as one of the smallest people in the facility.

“Hey,” Barry says when he reaches them.

Snart keeps talking, as if he hadn’t heard him. The older boy doesn’t show much acknowledgement either.

Barry considers tapping Snart to get his attention, then remembers the pocket knife, the threat, and just the overall general unspoken rule of not touching anyone in juvie if you want to keep your hands.

He tries again, addressing Snart this time. It works. Snart stops talking, his eyes sliding to him, sharp and like a cat’s narrowing. Recognition flickers in them.

“Beat it, pipsqueak,” the older boy next to him grunts out, menace flashing in his eyes. He doesn’t have the same cold glint, but it’s still harsh, but more blazing, like burning flames rather than ice.

“Well, well,” Snart says, ignoring his friend’s comment. That same slow smile is curving his mouth as he seizes Barry up with subtle disbelief. “Proved me wrong. Tell me you and that girl didn’t get yourself thrown in here for fun.”

Barry chuckles, but shakes his head. “No."

“You know this kid?” his friend asks in confusion.

Snart shrugs, a tilt of his head. “Stopped a couple of kids from killing him during community service a few weeks ago.” He turns his head, smirking at his friend. “Sound familiar, Mickey?”

His friend grunts again, clearly displeased. “It’s Mick. I’ve told you to cut that out or I’ll shiv you myself, Lenny,” he shoots back, and Snart glares.

Mick then looks back at Barry. He doesn’t seem any more eager to have him standing there, but he doesn’t protest as much anymore.

“What’d you do, kid?” he asks. “Set something on fire? Rob a bank?”

“I’m eleven,” Barry says in confusion. “How would I rob a bank?”

Mick shrugs. “Easy. Just--”

“Just, answer the question,” Snart cuts him off, tone somewhat gentle, but sending an exasperated look Mick’s way. He turns back to Barry. “What’d you do?”

“Just stole some stuff,” Barry says flippantly, brushing it off. He pauses. “And... I sort of vandalised a cop car.”

Both of them light up, interested. Mick laughs, and Snart looks fairly impressed.

“All right,” he says, nodding, then throws a glance around, “and, uh, your girl?”

“Iris isn’t here. Just me.”

Barry can’t help but notice the flicker in Snart’s expression when he mentions Iris’ absence, almost as if he’s disappointed.

“Does just me have a name or am I gonna have to keep calling you pipsqueak?” Mick asks.

“Oh, it’s Barry,” he answers.

Mick’s eyebrows draw together. “That short for something?”

He’s clearly asking for a reason. One that Barry is not going to give him to him considering the nicknames he’s sure he probably already uses on Snart.

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “Just Barry.”

The answer’s accepted without question.

“Alright then,” Mick says. “I’m Mick, and that’s Len. Though, personally, I recommend you call him Leonard. He loves it.”

“You do remember that you have to share a room with me, right?” Snart asks him, the implications clearly there. “You really want to be pushing that one knowing that?”

Mick glares, looking like he very much wants to. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips together and breathes a sigh out through his nose, but says nothing else on the matter. A wise decision by the sounds of it.

“Okay,” Barry says, grinning. “Got it. Guess we’re on an any-name basis, then.”

Snart--or Len, Barry decides--catches his eyes with a knowing look. He’s smiling, almost secretive about it. Then he’s rolling his eyes but motioning for Barry to join him on the otherwise empty table. He does, and Mick starts talking again about something or other. Juvie could be worse, Barry decides.

Visitation isn’t like it is in the proper prison. Instead of being separated by panels of glass and having to talk through a phone, there’s a room filled with soft chairs and two-seated couches in four rows with a table in between each seat.

Barry sits across from Joe and Iris. Joe keeps looking around like he’s unsure about something, questioning, searching. Barry just focuses on Iris the entire time. They talk, they laugh, it’s surprisingly nice. Then again, every moment with Iris is usually.

When Joe excuses himself for just a second to go and talk to one of the guards, or whatever reason he gives that Barry doesn’t listen to, he feels someone drop down beside him on the couch. Iris’ eyes widen.

“Was wondering when we’d finally meet again,” Len says.

Barry rolls his eyes, but turns to him, shoving his arm. “You’re not allowed to be here. Isn’t Lisa missing you over there?”

“She’s talking to Mick,” Len says, as if that’s practically the same thing.

“Wait, you’re in here, too?” Iris blurts out, over her inital shock already. She then aims a light kick at Barry’s foot beneath the table. “You didn’t mention him!”

Barry starts to open his mouth, but Len’s beating him to it, feigning a gasp.

“You didn’t mention me yet?” he asks. “I’m hurt, Barry, truly.”

“I haven’t had a chance!” Barry says in his defence, and quickly waves a hand between the two of them. “Iris, this is Len, Len, this is Iris. There. Happy?”

Iris quirks an eyebrow as Len suppresses an amused smirk.

“So dramatic,” Len jokes, addressing Iris with a shake of his head.

She nods back, her laughter kept in her mouth, even as she says, “He always has been. I don’t think he can help it, but I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s now one of the reasons I love him.”

Barry’s heart jumps. Love. It means a lot of different things, he reasons, but his heart still grows and beats a little stronger when he catches her eyes and she smiles that cute, happy little smile at him.

“Yeah, I can see why,” Len agrees softly. Then, when Barry looks at him in surprise, he rolls his eyes and gives his knee a nudge with his foot. “Though you’ve been a real pain since you got here. Honestly, can you go one day without getting in trouble?”

Barry grins. “But where would the fun in that be?”

“All right, I’ve been leaving you with Mick for too long, you’re gonna start setting fire to things soon.” Len turns to Iris. “Would you be willing to commit a minor offense to get thrown in here and take him off my hands? I’m going to go crazy.”

Iris laughs now and she shakes her head. “Sorry, boys, but I plan on staying out of here if possible. I’m not so easy to corrupt.”

Len’s eyes narrow, but the smile stays on his face. Sly, secretive, curious.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Or maybe you just need to see that there’s fun to be had in a little corruption. It’s not all bad.”

“You’re in juvie,” Iris says blankly, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms around them, one on the back of the couch, Len replies, “And it’s not so bad. We’re having fun, aren’t we? I’m just saying.”

“Do not get yourself thrown in here,” Barry says to her, laughing. “This is enough. Seriously. I’ll be out before you know it.”

Joe starts to come back over, and Len makes his exit. He only lingers long enough to wave a goodbye to Iris with a wink and promise Barry he’ll see him later before he hops back over the couches, settling back down beside Mick across from a girl about the same age as Barry and Iris, and an old man.

So, Barry was a little bit off when he said he would be out in no time. He accidentally gets into a fight, and his sentence is lengthened by a couple more weeks. And it kind of just keeps happening. It’s not intentional, obviously. But he will admit that juvie isn’t all that bad. He has Len, and even Mick.

Time just passes. It doesn’t even really feel like it’s been a year and a half. But it has. And as the months have gone on, Joe’s grown more reluctant to let Iris visit. He says it’s affecting her. Making her distant and constantly worried about him, finding it hard to concentrate in school. Acting out.

Of course, he says none of it to Barry’s face, but he overhears him saying it to his probation officer. When asked why he thought it was better if she visited less when it clearly makes both of them happy. But Joe’s firm. He stops Iris from coming. So, Barry eventually refuses to see him, too.

He’s a little more miserable, to be honest. But Len’s there, cheering him up, at least. Mick’s... well, Mick.

But Barry’s probation officer talked to him a couple of weeks ago, bringing a little bit of news. Bad in their eyes, of course, but very good in his.

He’s not allowed to see Iris the day she’s brought in, letting her get settled into her room first. Just down the hall from him. Apparently juvie in Central City doesn’t care about separation.

But the next day, when they’re forced to go to class, he finally sees her and takes the seat right next to her. She lights up right away.

“Really, Iris?” he asks jokingly. “I know you missed me, but Len was kidding when he said you should join us.”

“No I wasn’t,” Len says from the seat behind him with a grin, shaking his head.

Iris smiles. Something that people wouldn’t expect from someone on their first day in a juvenile detention facility.

She shrugs. “What can I say? You made it sound fun.”

“What did you even do?” Barry asks, leaning across in his seat. He catches Len doing the same, shifting just a little, his curiosity obviously piqued as well.

“I was just skipping too many days of school...” she says, fiddling idly with a pen, “...stealing too much from the same store...but in my defence...I missed the chocolate you kept stealing for me, and it’s really not as much fun without you.”

Barry grins. “So, what you’re saying is, you missed me.”

“Maybe,” she says, rolling her eyes. She then points a thumb back at Len, adding, “But it’s his fault, too. If he hadn’t interrupted every one of our visits just to tell me what you guys have been up to, I wouldn’t have felt like I missing out. Or like I should be rescuing one of your from the other. Still haven’t decided which one needs it more.”

Barry scoffs, but Len’s smirking, a happy glint in his eyes. It’s a rare sight, one that Barry sees now and again. It’s how imagines he must look when he gets that heart-skipping feeling around Iris.

“Definitely me,” Len drawls. “I’m going out of my mind, Iris. Mick’ll agree with me, won’t you, Mickey?”

Mick groans from two seats in front of Iris, turning to look back at them over the empty one between them. “Stop dragging me into this. I’m tired. And I don’t care. Kill each other, please.”

Iris raises her eyebrows and looks at the two of them. But they both laugh and just wave it off as Mick slumps in his seat, his arms crossing.

“You’ll get used to him, if you stay long enough,” Len says. “He grows on you. Eventually. As do I.”

“Eh, he’s alright,” Barry says when Iris looks just at him.

“Rude.”

Barry leans back in his seat, grinning at him upside down.

“Kidding.”

Len’s eyes narrow. Barry had once thought they looked like cold, harsh ice. Dangerous and terrifying. They still kind of do, as does Len in general. But it’s like a softer ice now, in the middle of melting but not quite there. But slowly getting there.

“So, Iris,” Len turns back to her, a mischievous look replacing the feigned glare, “tell me, do you like heists? Because, you definitely need to for this to work. Barry, Mick, and I are already planning our future for once we get out of here, and there are many heists involved. Are you in?”

“So much for subtle,” Mick mutters. Len ignores.

Barry shrugs helplessly when Iris shoots him a questioning, almost disbelievingly amused look. They’ve talked about a couple of heists. Jokes. Maybe. The ideas aren’t so bad, and at this point, Barry isn’t sure what his future’s looking like. Maybe bank robber is his destiny. Hell, maybe they could break into Iron Heights and get his dad out.

A genuinely thoughtful look crosses Iris’ face as she hums in consideration.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admits. “How high are our chances of being caught? Because, my dad’s a cop, and I really don’t think it would be good if he caught us.”

“Not to worry about that,” Len says. “I always have a plan.”

Iris takes another moment, pausing. “All right. If it’s a good enough plan, and if Barry’s in, then sure.”

“I’m in,” Barry says, grinning. “Let’s rob a bank.”

“Why does stealing from the CCPD seem like our dumbest idea yet?” Barry whispers, but he keeps walking, careful not to make a noise in the deserted hallway.

He glances at his watch. Seven minutes left. He can make it in and out in seven minutes. As long as he’s fast. He can do fast.

“It’ll be fine,” Len assures him through the comms, his voice that soothing calm. “Just get to the lab. You remember where it is, right?”

“Yeah.” Barry turns the corner and spots the big sliding doors. “Right here. Okay, so, I go in and--”

“And you find the evidence,” Iris finishes for him, confirming. “They can’t afford to pull any of our fingerprints, or hair, or just any DNA off of it. Grab whatever they have on us, then get the hell out. My dad’s going to be there in six minutes, forty-three seconds.”

“Okay. Got it.”

Barry reaches up, flipping the little switch on the side of his goggles. Everything quickly turns shades of blue and orange and yellow. No red. No human heat signatures nearby, and none in the lab.

He slides the door open and walks in, flipping the switch back. Setting the gun in his hand down on the nearest surface, he quickly looks around the lab. It’s immaculate, not a thing out of place.

“Thank you, Mr. Albert,” he mutters under his breath. Makes his life a hell of a lot easier if he’s not having to rifle through a mess of papers and other pieces of evidence.

Instead, it only takes him thirteen seconds to locate exactly what he’s looking for, and another sixteen to carefully pull the evidence from the machine mid-test. Thirty-two to find the file, swipe it, and stuff it in his bag, which he keeps away from all surfaces. Eleven to grab the two other items of evidence they have against them, and then twenty-four to delete the digital file and the half-run tests. Not a single thing left to indicate there was even a case in the first place.

Stepping back, he closes up his bag, grabs his gun, then makes back for the door. “Okay, we’re all good here.”

“Wait, Barry, see if you can find the evidence from the Laurdon case as well,” Iris says.

“Good idea,” he says, quickly recalling their uncertainty over whether or not they had accidentally dropped something at the scene.

He backtracks, heading back over to the case files. There’s a flash of light from the corner of his eye and he glances over at the windows. Probably just lightning, he reasons, or some part of the launch tonight. The particle accelerator finally being turned on gave them the perfect opportunity to clear their tracks since nearly everyone is over at S.T.A.R. Labs to watch it.

Finding the file, he flips through it. One bit of evidence, still being processed.

Barry sets the file back and quickly moves over to the shelves. It said something about a chemical test that he remembers trying out a good few years ago. It’s just a matter of finding the right one.

Fortunately, it’s not so hard. He grins, triumphant as he spots the beaker up on the second highest shelf, filled with a red liquid and a tiny strip of fabric.

He reaches for it when there’s another flash outside, brighter this time. For a brief moment when he looks back at the windows, he thinks he was right in it being a storm. But then he takes in what he’s seeing. The lightning isn’t coming from the sky. It is, but it’s like it’s being controlled by some beam shooting up into the sky right from S.T.A.R. Labs.

Confused, he takes a step towards the window, then falters, glancing back at the shelf. The air feels like it’s filled with static. That’s not a good sign.

“Barry?” Iris’ voice asks.

He’s going to respond. But his eyes fix back on S.T.A.R. Labs just as something happens. He can’t even explain what; a surge of powers, but accompanied by a bright light, shooting out from the building and sweeping all over the city. Coming straight towards him.

His eyes widen, but when it hits, he just feels the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. The lights go out. Every light, not a single dot within the whole expanse of Central City.

“Barry? What the hell was that?” Iris asks, alarm in her voice now. They felt it, too.

“Barry,” Len says sharply. “Answer.”

“I--I don’t know,” Barry says. “Something must have gone wrong with the particle accelerator, I think. There was like this power surge, and lightning, and--”

Thunder rumbles overhead. Right above him, actually. Far too close to be safe, especially when he still feels like he’s just stuck a knife in a toaster.

“I’m leaving,” he says.

He moves to make good on that, but stops short at rain pouring into the room. His eyes flick up and find a hatch in the roof. Open, of course. CCPD really has some geniuses on its payroll.

Ignoring it, he moves to head for the doors. But as soon as he steps beneath the hatch, he can feel the shift in the air. The dread and panic already creeping up his spine, latching its claws into his shoulder. The taste of something metallic fills his mouth.

He barely has time to lift his eyes back to the sky to see the bolt of lightning come straight down. It strikes him, and he’s aware, somewhere, of his body being thrown across the room by it. Of his back hitting something hard and metal, of things crashing down around him, and a burning beneath his skin and on it, like acid seeping through into his veins while he’s set alight.

Speeding straight through the doors, Barry then skids to a halt and quickly slides it shut. When he turns around, he’s met with raised eyebrows and pointed looks that he’s all too familiar with.

“Damn it,” he groans, feeling the burn in his shoulder now.

He whips his shirt off, throwing it to the stone floor to stamp the flames out.

“He’ll learn eventually,” Len says wryly, voice coated in sarcasm.

Iris grins from her comfortable position in his lap, legs stretched out across the couch. “It’s been a year.”

Barry groans again, saying, “It’s hard, all right? You don’t know, it’s easy to forget that I can just--accidentally set myself on fire because I ran too fast!”

“I’ve accidentally set myself on fire,” Mick says, and Barry nearly startles, finding him sitting at a table in the corner of the room, drinking a beer. “Wasn’t pretty.”

The room falls silent at that. Barry just looks over at Len and Iris, and they all have a similar thought process of just let it be. It’s Mick. They’ve been used to it since juvie.

“Alright then,” Barry mutters. Then, clearing his throat and in a more audible voice, says, “But anyway. Thought you’d like to know that I got it.”

Iris’ eyes widen, and she perks up, head lifting. Len’s expression isn’t quite as expressive; it never is, but Barry can see the glimmer in his eyes, the spark that comes alive.

“You got it?” Iris asks. “As in, it?”

Barry grins and produces the little leather pouch from his pocket. He holds it up and now they’re definitely both brimming with excitement and amazement, all knowing what’s inside. Even Mick is eyeing it with interest.

“I got it,” Barry says again. He shrugs. “Perks of being a speedster, I guess. Some geniuses they are. S.T.A.R. Labs didn’t even have any alarms in place. I went straight in by them and straight back out with it.”

He crosses over to them and tosses the pouch for Iris to catch, which she does with both hands perfectly. In return, she briefly moves her legs to let him drop onto the couch before she throws them back over his lap.

“Does it work?” Len asks, glancing at him.

Iris is already pulling the strings to open it and tipping it upside down. A triangular device tumbles onto into her lap.

“Don’t know.” Barry shrugs, spreading his arm over the top of the couch. “I haven’t tried it out. I was obviously waiting to get back here to you guys for that.”

Len smiles a little. Then all eyes are back on the device, now between Iris’ fingers as she turns it over slowly, careful. It’s grey and blue and definitely looks like what he was expecting. If he was to build one, it would pretty much be the same.

“If this works, you realize we can go anywhere we want now, right?” Iris says, voice as full of excitement as she seems, looking at the two of them. “Any planet. A different universe, even.”

“So many banks to rob, so many heists,” Len says dreamily, almost mocking.

She shoots him a look and presses her lips together in a smile. “Seriously, though. If this extrapolator is the real deal...”

“Would be pretty cool,” Barry agrees. “So. Let’s test it out.”

Iris holds it out, aiming at the empty space in front of the couch. She hits the centre with her thumb, and it shoots out a small beam of light that quickly expands, becoming a huge glowing blue circle in the middle of the room.

They all stare in awe, even Mick, his mouth hanging open with his beer halfway to it. Barry breathes out in disbelief, then shakes his head and turns to Iris and Len.

“The universe awaits then, I suppose.”

#the flash #barry allen #iris west #leonard snart #coldwestallen #barry x iris x snart #theflashedit #moodboard #aesthetic #fanfiction #the flash au #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedit*#OKAY SO UM #I GOT A BIT OUT OF HAND #SOMEONE SHOULD DEFINTIELY HAVE STOPPED ME #wonderdoves

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adamantiumdragonfly · 4 years

Text

Part Two

Chicago, Illinois ~ June 6th 1920

The Federal Bureau of Investigation, the organization designed to monitor the borders and the cities of America, was an intimidating group to say the least. To be sure, they commanded a presence but Miriam didn't know how fruitful their investigations were.

Now, it was common knowledge that gangsters and bootleg liquor had taken the country by storm in the midst of their dry sobriety. The FBI should have been handling that. The FBI should have been stopping it.

The war had left many hearts thirsting for a numbing drink and there was always a demand. Though the city was dry, she could almost smell the liquor that oozed from the cracks and shadows of the alleys.

[But Miriam wasn't sure if she was imagining things. She wasn't really sure of anything. Like how she had managed to find her way in the busy Chicago streets to the FBI offices or why she was here at all.

London wasn't her home anymore, that much had been made clear. Neither was the wasteland of mass graves and trenches that had once been Europe. Miriam gripped the letter tighter in her palm, the ink smudging against her sweating palm, the only sign she was nervous.

There had been one person she had known in the war who still spoke to her or had life in their chest. Lawrence White. First hand witness to her path of blood and destruction and now special agent in Chicago. He had sent her a letter, promising a job, a purpose and orders to follow.

"You don't look like a spy,"

Miriam could have stayed in Britain. She could have carved out a new life for herself, built a new family, like the thousands of others who had managed to crawl their way out of the trenches. But that meant being alone. Alone with the ghost of that little girl, little Melinoe, who would have been alive, if Miriam hadn't failed.

Miriam needed an occupation, a purpose. She needed orders to follow. So she had replied to the letter, bought a ticket on the next boat and left.

God, this was a mistake.

The offices were neat but busy. She wasn't sure if anyone had been alerted of her arrival. If Lawson, (as they had nicknamed him), had told the rest of the offices that a British-German would be walking across their doorstep and taking up residence beside them in a desk. That would have been jarring enough. Miriam wasn't sure that if anyone knew of her arrival, they would be aware that she was a woman.

That would have been two strikes against her.

As it turned out, neither seemed to be the problem. There were three other women in the office and a man who's accent betrayed him as Russian. Being a woman and being a foreigner wasn't the problem. It was her age.

"I've had to explain to Washington that your age will not affect your work." Lawson said, after settling Miriam in his office, the stares of the agents nearly burning through the window.

His first words after seeing her in Belgium rang in her ears. "You look different."

"Why should it?" Miriam said. It hadn't to the British government. They had sent her to Cairo, alone, when she was seventeen. Thanks to Ezriel, that is.

"I know of your work and of your ability. These men," Lawson waved a hand at the glass windows that offered a view of the office. Agents were still watching. "They know nothing. You are young, Goldschmidt. That makes you seem inexperienced."

They both knew that wasn't the case. She had fought harder than most, killed more than anyone she had worked with. Enyo wasn't gone, like the rest of the war. She was still present, pushing anything prior to her creation into ghostly memoriam.

"I will endeavor to prove myself to these high standards." Miriam said. She smoothed her new suit, a more stylish cut than she was accustomed to but in a familiar glossy black. like a crow's wing. It was an alteration to her usual ensemble but provided the much needed encompassment. Her accent was more obvious now, here in this country. She had sounded to German in Britain but too British here. Perhaps she would have to alter that part of herself too. "Anything else I need to know before you turn me to the wolves?"

It had been like this during the war. Lawson gave orders and Miriam followed them. The only difference, they were now in America and Miriam wasn't Enyo. She was a field agent and now, she would be released into an unknown country.

"You aren't being thrown to the wolves," Lawson shook his head as he stood, gesturing for Miriam to do the same. They exited the office, the agents who had been spectating hurriedly returning to their work. He led her, shoes tapping against the marble floor to a desk where a woman sat, sorting through papers.

Office work. She would be doing office work. Lawson had seen her fight and seen her losses and would only give her office work. Miriam's hands balled up into fists, her short nails digging like daggers into her skin.

"Agent Davidson," The woman looked up at the sound of Lawson's voice. She was older than Miriam, much older. Her hair was graying and her lined face. She looked around Sarah's age. Miriam's fists tightened. "This is Miriam Goldschmidt, our new special agent. She'll be working with you."

"Goldschmidt?" Davidson's eyes sparked angrily. Like Ezriel's. Like Sarah's. She wasn't angry because Miriam had failed them. Her fury stemmed from something Miriam couldn't control: her name. "You German?"

"I'm British." Miriam said. Leipzig was a long time ago. London, though she had run away, was the last time she had been free of ghosts. London was her home.

The fire died in Davidson's eyes and she extended a hand. The British and the Americans had fought together. This could be their olive branch, it seemed. "Alaska Davidson."

"A pleasure," Miriam said. "I admit, I was surprised to see another woman."

Alaska nodded. "There are only a few of us and they seem to want us spread out. You and I will be alone in the sea of men." She glanced at Lawson, who had been silent as introductions and allegiances were made. He looked pleased that they were getting along. "Alright, Lawson, you can leave us alone. We won't kill each other."

"Tell me," Miriam said, as he retreated back to his office with only a wink and a smile to say goodbye. "Were you born there?"

"Born where?" Davidson's already lined face wrinkled in confusion.

"Alaska?"

"Oh no." Alaska shook her head, though her face relaxed. "I am from Ohio."

"Are all American women named after states?" Miriam asked. "Should I change my name? To fit in?"

"Lawson failed to mention you were such a wisecrack," Alaska said. She didn't seem upset or annoyed. It was an observation, maybe even a playful joke. Miriam's lips twitched. "You are getting the desk beside me. So I can keep an eye on you." She gestured to the empty table, free of the clutter that was the pattern on every other agent's desk. "You brought anything for your desk?"

Miriam looked down at her empty hands, trying to ignore the weight of the little book against her chest, and shook her head.

"Don't worry, it'll be full soon enough."

"What kind of work will we be doing, Agent Davidson?" Miriam asked. She could feel a gun's smooth metal beneath her palm and the weight of a knife in her grip. Miriam wasn't opposed to a little blood staining her hands. Enyo craved it. She had been sober, like the rest of America, for quite some timee, though her tonic had been a tad more violent.

She needed something she could fight. Something she could put to death. Especially now when Miriam's mind was full of undead memories. Ghostly little girls. Blood that had long since dried, sticking to her fingers.

"Do you know much about the eighteenth amendment?" Alaska asked.

She knew enough. Alcohol was prohibited, not to be sold or served.

"It is the devil's drink, is it not?" She said, something inside her smiling at the look on Alaska's face. Surprise and calculation. Miriam liked being a mystery. While they were trying to figure her out, she had time to fire the defenses.

"You aren't a girl of morals, are you?"

Blood staining her hands. Enyo, laughing.

It was safe for Miriam to say, "No, no one could ever say that."

"So, lying is acceptable?"

" I enjoy it."

Alaska laughed, mistaking her words as another witty crack but there was no shift in Miriam's expression. She hadn't been joking.

"You'll do fine," Alaska decided, though the curiousity didn't leave her gaze. While Miriam sat at her desk and removed her hat, she could feel the watchful eyes on her, trying to solve the puzzle of Miriam Goldschmidt. She wished Agent Davidson would solve it for her. She hadn't yet.

Taglist:

@rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701 @immrsronaldspeirs @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @jamie506101 @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @teenmagazines @thegirlwithoutaname87

Historical Notes:

he FBI wasn't actually known as the Federal Bureau of Investigation until the 1930s. It was known simply as the Bureau of Investigation, going through several adjustments until 1935, the name was settled as we know it today: FBI.

Now, there are a few reasons why I chose to keep the name FBI in this story, however inaccurate. One being familiarity. When I say, FBI, you know exactly what I am talking about. Secondly, comprehension. It is easy to understand what being an FBI agent involves, whether it is 2020 or the 1920s.

So, FBI it remains in the world of Lady Blood.

(also, the acronym BOI has been ruined by meme culture and I couldn't take myself seriously while writing it.)

There were three female agents in the Bureau of Investigation in the 1920s, though their time was short-lived. Alaska P. Davidson, (1922 to 1924), Miss Lenore Houston (1924 to 1928), and Mrs. Jessie B. Duckstein (1923 to 1924).

I chose Alaska Davidson for no particular reason, other than to crack a few jokes about her name and I liked the dynamic and power play that her and Miriam had. That's all.

#lady blood #lady blood updates #miriam goldschmidt carroll #agent enyo

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lvcmze-blog · 5 years

Text

smiling towards death

E N D G A M E SPOLIERS

summary: you, natasha 19 year old adoptive daughter, sacrifice yourself for the soul stone

paring(s): natasha x teen!reader, avengers x teen!reader

disclaimer(s): angst, mention of death

ragged breaths kept escaping the mothers and the daughters mouths, as one held on tight on the other; desperately trying to pull them up. a friend of theirs stood at the edge of the cliff, awaiting to see the heartbreaking scene to unfold awhile they tried to process what just happened.

a daughter sacrificing her life. not willing to live without their mother.

"it's okay, mommy. everything will be okay. i'm fine with my life ending here. live your life to the fullest. thank you for everything. i love you, mommy to infinity." the daughters voice came out shaky but a grateful, brave smile laid on her face. a lonely tear managed to escape from her once bright eyes and slid its way down their cheek. natasha shook her head in denial as she kept her tight hold on her daughters hand. tears were already sliding down her cheeks; her heart getting torn apart, piece by piece to the point of no repairing.

if only she could pull her daughter up close enough to hook her up to line and take her place. if only. but that was just a lonely hope.

"goodbye, mommy."

was the daughters last words before her foot pushed on the cliff, her hand escaping her crying mothers tight hold of her hand. the mother and the friend watched in pain as the young woman fall to her death. the forever to be nine·teen year old kept a small smile on their face as they kept their eyes locked on their mother. they continued to smile even though death was coming fast. finally the young womans body hit the hard ground, instantly killing her.

the mother and the friend came back to 2023 in the avengers facility where the rest of the soon-to-be-sad friends waited for them.

clint quickly handed steve the soul stone before taking his friend, natasha; the heartbroken mother into his comforting arms. the mother let out a pained cry, gripping onto clints sleeves tightly. her heart screamed in pain, in agony. the mother felt as though the world has came to an end and in a way, it has for her.

her daughter was her world, her light, her angel, her baby, her forever, her purpose, and now, she was nothing.

"clint, where's y/-" hulk was cut off by natashas scream. clint sent a glare but everyone could see the pain behind it. hulk face held a confused look, oblivious to the situitation.

"a soul for a soul." nebula spoke out. tony looked towards her before connecting the dots. tony sighed before shaking his head in denial and grief as he made his way down from the time travel platform. nebula followed quickly behind, smirking to herself.

"did she have any family besides natasha?" tony softly asked towards natasha who was being held by steve. natasha stopped crying, although she felt numb. she sat still and looked towards the lake, ignoring tonys question.

"us. we're the only family she had." steve said, pain running through his voice. he held natasha tightly for her comfort and slight for his too. clint leaned on the wooden pole as a single tear slid down his cheek. lost in his thoughts. thor looked around at everyone in denial and tried to make sense of the situaition.

"why are you acting as though she's dead? why are we acting as if she's dead? we have the stones, right? we can bring her back, nat. so avengers, get your shit together." thor rapidly said in denial and frustration as he clenched his raised fists. clint slightly turned his head back to look towards the god, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"we can't get her back. we can't bring the little girl i knew back. it can't be undone or at least that's what the red floatly guy said. maybe you wanna go chat with him." clint said, fully turned around as he threw his arms around. thor, tony, hulk, and steve saw how broken he was by just watching his niece fall to her death at such a young age.

"go and grab your all mighty hammer! and go find him!" natasha finally yelled out, standing up and out of steves arms. she turned around and made her way to leave before she stopped in the middle. she lifted her head, her body shaking. her fists kept clenching and unclenching by her sides.

"it was supposed to be me. i was fighting clint to take his place. i was too caught up in the fight that i didn't notice my little girl run towards the edge. it wasn't until she s-s-said mommy i-i can't....can't live without you. i-i-i managed to um...grab onto her hand as i was connected to the wire..." the mother inhaled and exhaled as she relived the moment, not feeling clint grab onto her hand in support, "i was t-trying to pull her up to connect her to wire but she kept pulling and pulling away from me....every damn time. s-s-she too fucking y-young! it's not fair!"

the mother yelled out, collapsing onto the wooden ground and wrapped her arms around herself as she started to rock herself back and fourth; repeatedly. clint kneed down next to her and rubbed the aching mothers back in comfort as another wave of tears coming down on both their cheeks.

steve knocked on the door of the daughters room to the avengers facility. natasha nodded in response to his knock. she sat up against the black headboard of the bed she sat on, holding a stuffed animal wolf tightly in her arms. her eyes red and tired looking from of the tears of pain.

"what's the wolfs name?" steve softly asked, taking a sit on the bed. natasha looked down at the wolf then to steve with a sad smile.

"alianovna." a simple yet painful answer. steve smiled sadly. y/n, the little girl who always knew how to make him smile even on his dark days, was gone. dead.

"it'll be worth it. you know that, nat?" steve asked to the mother who now looked the wall to the side of them that was covered with pictures of the mother and the daughter. steve could see a small lonely tear left the red eyes of the mother.

"you know....if this doesn't work...." a small pause from natasha who turned her head back to steve and looked straight in his eyes. "i'll hurt you cause that means my baby died for nothing. that i lost my damn little girl for nothing. steve....she was my world. i'm trying so hard to make sense of this...trying not to blame myself cause knowing her, she would say not to blame myself."

silence. though, every single heart mourned for the forever nine·teen year old girl who sacrifice herself to bring them back.

a selfless move from such a young girl.

pepper and tony whos arm that was banaged up in a sling held onto their daughter who sat in tonys lap. peter parker sat next to the starks, heart aching for his best friend. rodney kept his head down low. clint and laura were comforting their three childern who were crying. wanda and pietro who clint bought back were holding hands as tears poured out. the guardians just stood still but they still felt sadness for the young girl that they never knew. rocket let one tear out before going blank. thor sat, looking blank yet his eyes show the pain he was feeling. bucky, sam, and steve sat next to him as they tried to process everything that just happened.

natasha, the lost mother, sat on the ground of twicks and dirt as she felt as though she had no more fight in her. for the first time, she did not know what to do. she just wanted to hold her daughter again. to feel her daughters heartbeat against her ear as she cuddled her daughter to sleep. she kept a tight hold on the stuffed toy wolf as she did on her daughters hand.

"she said after we um...got you guys b-back that she wanted to get a small house so we can a slightly no-normal life....fuck." natasha broken voice said out, a tear full of pain slid down her face. after three days of tears, she hasn't stopped crying.

she did not even get the chance to say i love you.

soon the silence compeletly ended as scott and hulk jogged towards the small group of mourning friends. scott bent down, trying to catch his breath. his index finger was held up as a signal to hold on. he stood up straight with his hands on hips.

"me and the amazing hulk may have found a solution to bring y/-"

"don't say my babys name. you don't deserve to say her name." natasha spoke harshly to scott. she cuddled the wolf closer to her aching chest. a sad look laid on all of the friends face.

"we may know how to bring her back." scott said softly causing everyone to perk up at what he said and the mothers head snapped up. she got up from the ground, not even bothering to dust herself off before turning around and making her way to a semi-scared scott. scott kept walking back till his back hit a tree, trapping himself to where natasha pushed her forearm against his throat. the stuffed toy wolf in the arms of wanda who natasha handed to lightly as she had made her way towards scott.

"if you're lying, may god help you. tell me." she came closer to scotts face with gritted teeth, "now." a single word that sent chills down everyones spine at the deadly voice that said it. scott did nothing to resist from natasha and only croacked out a small "okay".

"n-nebula said that it's a soul for a soul, right? a soul got the soul stone, why not reverse it? give back the soul stone for a soul. a soul for a soul." scott said to the mother who now had a frown on her face as she tried to make sense of what he said. everyone looked at one and another with curiosity.

could this actually work? could they bring back the young girl? after all it is a soul for a soul

slowly the mother pulled away from scott, moving her forearm away from his throat and let it hand loose to her side. scott coughed till he finally was able to breathe properly. tony handed morgan to his wife who quickly held her daughter in a hold of love before walking towards scott, hulk and natasha.

"you know that actually may work. i mean come on i didn't think time travel could work but now....", he paused as he looked towards everyone who was dusted and brought back, ending to look at his wife and peter who were looking down at morgan who was now in between her mothers legs, "anything is really possible." he finished off with a soft smile towards peter, his wife and his little girl.

"let's do it. i was returning the stones tomorrow but i can do it today. if you want me to, natasha." steve stood up from the fallen tree log he sat on with two of his best friends. natasha shook her head. "no. do it tomorrow. i have to prep myself for the worst. wanda, give me alianovna back. i'll be staying at a hotel. text me if anything comes up." she said, taking alianovna from wandas stretched out hand. she started walked away from the group, grabbed onto the two duffel bags near the tear she was walking past.

once she got to the car tony gifted to her as a condolence gift, she threw the duffel bags to the passager side before turning her head towards the group who now were watching her. she only nodded before getting in the drivers seat and closed the door as she did.

she sat bent over with her forearms on her thighs at the end of the hotel bed, staring blankly at the tv in front of her. she played with her own fingers, thinking back when her daughter was alive. when her daughter heart was beating.

3 WEEKS BEFORE THANOS CAME TO EARTH

the mother held her daughter close to her. the four·teen year old head laid on her mothers chest, ear pressed aganist where her mothers heart beated. the mother let her hand comb through her daughters short coloured hair, luring the young girl to sleep.

"mommy." a small soft voice escaped from the young womans mouth, although her eyes were shut closed. a gentle smile laid on natasha face upon hearing her daughters voice, even more so when she heard the dearly name she held so close to cold yet warm heart.

"yes, my little y/n?" she said to her daughter. a quite sigh was heard all through out the small ugly hotel room. the mother frowned at the sound. she wondered what was wrong. her thought was quickly answered.

"i don't ever want to lose you. i don't think i could ever live without you by my side. you saved me. mommy, i love you too much to let you go." the young closed her eyes tighter, trying to stop the tears that threaten to pour from her bright eyes. the mothers hold on her tighten as she held the young girls body shake lightly.

"why are you thinking like this?" the mother questioned her daughters suddened fear of losing her. the young girl only cuddled closer into the mothers body. the mother kept her right arm wrapped around the waist of the girl as her left hand ran through the locks of hair the four·teen year olds. she leaned forward to place a small yet lovely kiss on the fourteen years head. she pulled away, relaxing her head on the pillow.

"little one, i'm right here with you. i promise you, my little sunshine, i won't be taken away for quite sometime. y/n, i need you to promise me something." natasha whispered to her daughter that hummed in responds. the mother tilt her daughter head with her empty hand causing the daughter to open up her eyes and look into her mothers eyes. a soft smile laid on natashas face. "promise me this, y/n."

"that no matter what, if the time comes, where it's either you or me to die. you look away and only ever think happy thoughts. and remember i love you so much. i don't ever want to lose you. you're my little sunshine." a tear slipped out of the mothers eye as her voice got shaky. she cupped her daughters cheek, letting herself memorize every little detail. the daughter quickly shoved her head into her mothers chest, cuddling closer if even possible. natasha started to sing a lullaby to send her sunshine to dreamland with her arms wrapped protectively around the daughter.

"you are my sunshine, my only sunshine

you make me happy when skies are gray

you'll never know dear, how much i love you

please don't take....

my sunshine away." the mother tearfully sang as tear after tear came sliding down her cheeks. she bit her lip in frustration and clenched her raised fist. natasha let out a angry scream before getting up from the end of the bed and taking her self to the rooms bathroom. her hands held on tightly to the edge of the counter as she kept looking at herself in the mirror. she finally snapped. she sent a harsh punch to the mirror, shattering it into peices and causing blood to come out on her cut up knuckles. she looked at herself from the remaining parts of the broken mirror. "you took my sunshine away! i'm sorry, my little sunshine! my little girl!" she yelled out. three lound knocks snapped her out of her thoughts. she sniffed quickly and ran her hand under her nose.

"who is it?" natasha said in a raspy voice as she left the bathroom with a towel over her bloody hand, making her way to the rooms door. a familar voice was heard from behind the door.

"it's steve. bucky and sam are here too. can we come in?" natasha frowned but unlocked the door. she opened up the door to see a smile on all her friends faces. she rolled her eyes before walking away into the room, allowing them to follow behind. sam closed the door and locked it. natasha sat on the chair that was in the corner of the room, waving her hand to the bed indicating for the three men to sit there. only steve sat on the beds end corner facing natasha while the other two men leaned their backs against the bathrooms wall. "look this better be important because i sw-"

"y/n is back." sam said, cutting off the now shocked mother. natasha mouth dropped open as her widen eyes looked start at sam. she dropped the bloody towel before getting up and marching her way to sam. she stopped just a couple steps away from sam who looked oddly calm. "what do you mean my little girl is back?" she sternly yet calmly asked the male. steve got up from the bed and walked towards the mother, stepping to the side of her. steve placed a hand on her shoulder causing her to snap her head towards him. a soft smile laid on his face.

"i went today to return the stones. when i returned the soul stone which was difficult. i almost gave up till she fell in front of me. i came back here to tell you she's back of the backup avengers compound. she's out right now but the nurse said she'll wake up in a hour or two." steve explained the whole situation to natasha. she shook her head before walking quickly around the room, gathering the wolf, her carkeys and a duffel bag. she walked to the door, unlocking it before running out, not bothering to shut it. the three males looked towards each other before taking off after her.

a relieved smile came on the mothers tearful face once she got the med room her daughter was recovering at. she looked at her resting daughter with joy and relieve running through her body. she walked into the med room quitely to get to her daughters bedside. she put the duffel bag and the wolf side by side down on the small counter in the room. she walked closer to her daughter, looking at her as though she was an angel. she let her hand cup her little sunshines cheek so softly and rubbed her tumb along the cheekbone. a single happy tear slid the mother grateful face. a small groan shook the mother out of her trace. the young girls eyes opened. her eyes wandered before shifting to look at her mother. a small smile rushed to the young girls face. "hi, mommy" a quite raspy voice escaped the girls mouth. a small cry let the mother as she heard her daughter talk again.

"hi, my little sunshine. i missed you so much." natasha spoke to the young girl. natasha grabbed onto her daughter hand that laid to her side and held it tightly. she placed a quick kiss on her daughters hand before landing a kiss on the young girls forehead. tears slipped down the mothers face as she did. she pulled away from her daughters forehead, looking at her daughter whos eyes were closed again yet she still spoke. "mommy, sing me a song." a small laugh bursted out the mothers mouth before she went quitely and started to sing a lullaby to lure to her sunshine to sleep.

"you are my sunshine, my only sunshine

you make me happy when skies are gray

you'll never know dear, how much i love you

please don't take my sunshine away."

as the song came to end, the daughter was in a peaceful sleep. the mother held a gentle smile as she looked upon her resting daughter.

"again." the mother whispered out to nobody.

A/N: this took 5 days. before anyone askes, i got the sudden idea when i watching natashas death scene on youtube. and thought what if she had a daughter? who just so happened to be there and took her place? plus i know some scenes in this was off but pls work with me. honestly, i was going to end it where the daughter (you) never comes back and natasha k**ls herself because she couldn't handle the pain. also natasha adopted her (you) when she (you) was 10 btw. so in 2015 before AOU.

i really hope you liked this! i will be doing more imagines! i focus on MARVEL, DC, CPD, etc. thank you and have a good life 💞

L O V E

Y O U R S E L F

- kim namjoon

#avengers endgame #natasha romanoff #avengers x teen!reader #avengers imagines #endgame imagines

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estrxlar · 3 years

Text

The Ghost Of You

06 - Too Little Too Late

Chapters songs:

Yam Yam: No Vacation

Numb: Men I Trust

4EVER: Clairo

—

Sugawara

Hey, I won't be riding the bus this morning. My father is visiting and I have to spend the morning with him I'm guessing. I might be available after school, though. So if you wanna walk

Yeah, I'll let you know. I hope everything with your dad goes okay.

Okay. See you later then.

Yeah, you too.

—

One last message from Sugawara is received, before I close the messaging app, and turn off my phone. I wasn't quite ready for what was to occur this morning: seeing my dad. You would think I would be happy about it, or at least be a little excited. But really, I couldn't be more stressed. All my father has ever done is criticize my talents, my behavior, and almost everything that has to do with me being me. Every time he comes to Japan, which isn't a lot, it's the same lecture all over again about what I'm doing with my life, and where I'll be when I'm older.

But at least two or three more hours of sleep. Might as well take advantage of missing a day, right?

—

As I stretch out my arms under my sheets, a knock on my door is heard, followed by my mom's soft voice. "Y/n, your father is getting you today. I'm off to work, okay? Make sure to feed Astra." Her tone is low and worry full, but I wouldn't blame her. Surely your ex-husband coming back shouldn't be so easy.

"I know, mom. Thanks. You have a good day," I say back to her, hearing her footsteps slowly disappear. That's my queue to begin getting ready. What I wear consists of something simple: a thin white shirt, a sage green sweatshirt on top, and jeans with white sneakers, which is something safe. I wouldn't want him to begin criticizing me by starting with my outfit. And as for my hair, I wore it the way I always did.

After a few moments of getting ready, I stand up in the mirror, making sure my personality wasn't showing on the outside. I hated that this is how I had to think of myself when around my parents, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. As suspected, a few minutes later, a message from him appears informing me he had gotten here.

—

Dad

Hey! I'm outside, come quickly so we can grab something at that small cafe you love.

Okay, I'll be out there in a second.

—

Nothing baffled me as much as him being so normal about this situation did, but there wasn't much I could say to him. I could only imagine how many questions he would ask me, or if he would even care about the important things, like if I was going through anything.

Reaching for a basic shoulder bag, I say my farewell to the cat, and make my way downstairs. Once I reach the front door, I take a deep breath and open it to reveal the usual view, except an expensive car stood in the driveway, with a smiling man inside of it. I smile back, easing that he didn't look pissed as fuck. After that, I locked the front door and walked towards his car.

Hesitantly, I pull the handle and step into the front passenger seat. "Hey, Dad." I greet him, meanwhile closing the door. "How've you been?"

"Hm, I've been just fine. What about you?" He begins to pull out of the driveway, and soon enough, we're on the road. "There's much to talk about."

I nod, as he states the obvious. "Yeah, of course."

This is awkward.

My hands begin to fidget, popping and stretching my fingers while he drove on the road, saying absolutely nothing. That was until I asked something to fill the empty space between us. "How's work been? I heard you got a bunch of promotions."

"It's been like always; normal. But yes, I have gotten promotions. I guess I've exceeded the limit, though. So.. what about you? You're still on your whole band-thingy?" He clears his throat, turning into another street: the same Suga and I would walk. "Your aunt says she's excited to work with you."

My aunt, AU/N, was my blueprint. She was my father's little sister, and she had a hell of a lot of money. One time when she was younger she slipped in dog pee at Walmart and sued them 50,000$. Since she was a musician, and far more successful than my band, she decided to start her label, signing many small bands like mine. And so, since I had a connection, my friends and I decided to sign with her during the summer after we graduate. We'd have to move to New York in America, but that was just fine. Because moving meant we could establish a good career and attend college as well.

"I'm excited too. You know, to move and all." My eyes take mental images of the portrait outside today. Trees were finally growing leaves again, and grass as well; spring was around the corner. "Why the sudden visit? Is there a conference being held in Miyagi?"

My question seems like have made him uneasy, for his fingers began making small beats on the steering wheel. In no way did I mean to be so sudden, but an answer to my asking was necessary.

Thankfully, his response isn't a shout and rude remark, but a simple explanation that frankly made me feel better about his stay. "I'm most likely not gonna be able to see you before you graduate, so I wanted to spend a day with you. I know I said I'd drop you off at school after breakfast, but I thought we could hang out longer.

Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

—

To my surprise, the drive wasn't as short as I thought. A total of thirty silent minutes felt as if it was an entire hour. Once we arrived at the small cafe in the plaza, the both of us got off the car and glanced at each other, beginning our way towards it.

I had a certain idea of why he'd picked this spot for us to eat at. When I was younger, I'd spent lots of time here doing whatever I was up to, and usually with one of my close friends, (not that we're close anymore.) To be completely frank, it came to me as a shock my father even paid attention to how much I adored this place. The light lavender concrete walls and cutesy pots with succulents and house plants. Not to mention its colorful m decorations, far more improved than when I was a little kid. Still, it drew Moku, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Toruku to make it our number one hang-out spot from the ages of 8-14, even if it wasn't as attracting as it is now.

As we enter, the small bell at the top of the door rings, and we're greeted by a young girl at the counter that surrounded many baked goods. "Welcome!" She says, meanwhile packing up an online order. "Is there anything I could help you guys with?"

"Two coffees, please." My father replied, holding up two of his long, worn-out fingers. 'Coffee? I mean, I guess. Not that I cared or anything. I honestly preferred the tea with the little peaches in it— what was it called?' My father's voice cuts off my thoughts. "And a fruit lemonade for her. The coffees are for me; long hours!"

'That's it!' I said to myself internally, briefly smiling at the worker while she wrote a few words down. And soon enough, we're told it'll take only a few minutes. Still, it baffled me my father even remembered such a little thing I loved when I was a child.

What a try-hard.

The two of us find a corner table for two, and he pulls out a chair for me to place myself. I do so, as my father does the same. Then, a long-awaited conversation begins. "How did you know I liked this place?"

He straightens his collar, saying, "You never stopped talking about it when you were little."

"And the drink?"

"I just remember how many times it appeared on my taxes from this place, that's all." He chuckles, leaning onto his arm along with stroking his sharp beard. "Why do you ask?"

Without thinking, I answer sharply, looking down at the wooden patterns on the table. "Why do you think? I didn't think you'd paid attention," I say to him, quickly looking up for a rude remark.

He effortlessly sighs and keeps the situation unproblematic. Although, I wouldn't have minded diving deeper into the reasoning of his absence. "I did sometimes. Sorry."

I tell myself to leave it at that, to leave it at 'sorry', but I can't. I can't not say something. "Can I ask you something? And I want a valid answer, not excuses. I know you wanted to have a nice time but this is the most I've talked to you in the past year so I'd rather get straight to it than poke around the elephant in the room."

In the corner of my eye, I see him nod, giving me an okay that I could rant. Well, more like calmly let out my feelings. "I just— I don't understand what happened. After you and mom got busy, it was a total blur. I'm not asking for you two to get together again, and I never questioned why you split up either. I'm simply asking why you guys forgot you had a daughter, that's all."

Not more than a split second later do I realize how rude that sounded. But too bad, I wanted to know. A few silent seconds slide by while he seems to be thinking of an answer, and explanation. Then, the sound of footsteps coming towards us, signaling our beverages had arrived.

"Two coffees," the young lady mumbles, setting them in front of my father as he smiles. "And a fruit lemonade!" She exclaims. The pink-tinted drink makes waves in cold glass in her hand once it's set down. "All set. Is there anything else I can get for you two?"

We shake our heads lightly.

"Alright then! Enjoy!" She beams, then happily walks away. Ever since I was younger, I never understood why the store wonder daughter was so nice. But I'm guessing it lasted throughout the years, or else she wouldn't treat customers so gently.

Father slowly lifts the drink to his lips, and enjoys his cinnamon roast, while I feel my back aching from the perfect posture I perform around him. "Ah, carry on, Y/n. What is it that makes you so upset? The idea your mother and I did all we could to give you a better life, or is it that we picked ourselves up and became better people?" His manipulative tone comes in, sending mixed signals. But I could see where he was coming from completely.

"I just wish you two had taught me what it's like to be a proper parent. Instead, every time I would try getting your attention, you would always look away, and send me off to do something else." I feel my hands squeeze my thighs under the table, as I look up and down at my father with a silent yet harsh tone, "all I wanted was to admire you and learn what was so interesting about sitting in an office working for another person. But that's changed now, right? Because you've maxed out the level of superiority now that you've not done a single other thing."

"Y/n—"

"The fact you worked endlessly doesn't bother me as much as you criticizing me does. It truly hurts me that you attempt to steer me into another direction every time you visit when you haven't even been to at least seven of my birthdays. I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot it, either. You would judge who I hung out with, what I liked to do, everything. You even judged the way I handled my best friend dying, yet didn't think to send me to therapy. Toruku's mom is the one who took us to get help, not you. Why do you do it? Why do you think it's a good idea to bring me down? You've never been there for me, so you don't know me. You never will, father. You'll never know who I am."

A trembling hand reaches for my drink quickly, as I sip from the thin black straw in silence, taking in as much as I can. And all he can do is sit quiet, still processing my explanation.

That is until he speaks, finally. "I'm— I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that."

He nods.

The straw twirls between my fingers during the spinning memories of spending more time with my friends than my parents that ran through my mind. But it's whatever, right? I did just fine raising myself. At least that's what I told myself. Truth is, I needed people. I needed to grow with others on my side. It wasn't any wonder that I felt so lonely when I was younger. I'm dependent, yet independent.

Before getting up from my seat, I make sure to down the rest of the cold lemonade I had in my hand and grabbed both my hood and small bag. "Can we go now? Please."

"Sure. We can leave."

—

After getting home, I can't help but immediately let a few tears escape my eyes. The fact two words were all my father could say made my blood boil and my bones stiffen, especially since it was the last time I would talk with him in person before I graduate. Maybe I could meet him before he goes back to Korea, but I'd rather not. Not after leaving it at that.

The doors slam still echoed through the house, while I sat against the front door, crying in my lonely arms. No car to leave, and no one to hear me except a sleepy cat. While I do so, every thought of ever healing the hole between our relationship entered my thoughts, and the never-ending process of realizing I can't fix it hurts just as much as the pain in my chest.

Throughout the blur of water in my eyes, I make out the image of a white figure lying across my feet. I look up briefly, wipe my eyes, and stroke Astras back. Her soft, thin hair glides between my fingers, giving me a realization that I wasn't completely alone. No, I wasn't. I still had old friends and family that supported me, other than my father.

Right now, I had to think about the things that were important to me. The things that would help me grow, not look back at my regrets. Maybe the purpose of his visit was a sign from the universe, telling me to get over my past because my goals are too close for me to hesitate.

I needed a break from today. A nap, possibly. I don't think I'd be going back to school anytime soon, so I might as well rest a bit. That's exactly what I need, rest after a long week. After all, the weekend was just around the corner.

I slouch up the stairs with the chunky cat in my hand. By the time I reach my room, both my pants and shoes are in the other, and I'm ready to knock out between messy blankets.

—

'Ring!' My phone makes alarms under me, sending vibrations through the pillow my head rested on, making my eyelids quickly open. A hand snaked for the device, bringing the bright screen up to my face. It was no other than the band group chat.

Xanax sluts

Giki

Guess who just got invited to a party

Toruku

Giki

No me but I asked if you guys could go and they said we can bring whoever

Toruku

Bruh

Who is hosting it

Giki

Some chick names Miya I know. She's a third-year and seems like a stuck-up little bitch but she's actually pretty cool.

Hikishi

Omg I love her she's so sweet

Oh I know who you guys are talking about she's the girls' volleyball team captain

Giki

Yeah

Anyways she said you guys could go

Hikishi

When

Giki

Uhh

In like

An hour?

HUH

GIRL IM NOT READY FOR A PARTY TN I JUST GOT IN THIS ARGUMENT WITH MY DAD 😟

Giki

Oh come onnn just slap on a dress or something and we can go

Hikishi

WAIT YES IM SO BORED

Toruku

Will, there be alcohol

Giki

Toruku

Will there be drugs

Giki

Toruku

Then this isn't a party-

Giki

Come on she's my friends and I promised you guys would go plus she's super popular so everyone's gonna be there AND she's rich

Toruku

And who's driving us

Hikishi

You mf who else

Fine I'll go but you guys better not do anything to cause attention, if there's gonna be snobby people then we're most likely to be looked down on

Hikishi

I'm so excited yayy

Toruku

What are you excited about there's no drugs or alcohol

Hikishi

Cause this is the first party we're going to ever since last month

Toruku

Oh yeah

Giki

Mhm it's like this back to school party

Toruku

Giki if this is a kids party I'm gonna slap the lesbian out of you

Giki

ITS NOT YOU TOUCH-DEPRIVED TWINK

See you guys in an hour ig

Hikishi

Oh-

—

Mom

Going out tn

Ok. Are you staying at anyone's house?

Maybe. Idk yet

How did it go with your dad

It went fine

Good baby I'm glad

Tell me when or if you get to someone's house

Ok I will love you

—

Happy that my mother didn't make an argument, I sigh, checking the time. It seemed pretty dark outside, so it had to be around eight or nine. And quickly after, I decide it's best to begin getting ready, again.

—

Please note chapters, it means a lot. I work endlessly on these making sure they're perfect for you guys. Have a good rest of your day, and I hope you take care of yourself. Love you lots!!

- estrxlar

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