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furiousgoldfish · 3 years

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Tactics of narcissistic abuse

Love Bombing & Mirroring are tactics to gain your favour. These will come from a narcissist you’re just getting to know and they’re trying to convince you they’re your perfect partner, soulmate, best friend, ideal lover. Love bombing is showering you with over-the-top affection and support, they’re likely to see what works best on you, then give you just that. They’ll convince you that you’re special and make you feel special, whether it’s with attention, gifts, promises, love phrases, or making you look and feel very good in front of other people. If they can spin this as fate or destiny, they will. You have one lucky coincidence? It’s destiny that you met. They’ll create the image of ‘it’s us against the world’ and convince you that they’re all you need to never be alone, unappreciated or unhappy again. They will say phrases like 'We were born to be together’ or 'You’re the only one who understands’ and make you feel like you’re in a romance film. Mirroring is the way to convince you that they are just like you, your perfect match. They do this by pretending they want the same things as you. All of your opinions will be shared, your desires will be their desires too, however you want to live, that’s now their ideal life too. If you want children, so do they, if you want to live in a cottage, so do they.

These will be repeated until you feel like you finally got something perfect from life, you commit to them and trust them completely. You will become lenient with your boundaries and disregard minor red flags, because hey, you finally found love, or someone like yourself who makes your life better. These are crucial to keep you around for a long time; the illusion of happiness and perfect companionship you always wanted will keep you holding onto them in hope that things could once again, be this perfect for you. You will not want to let go of them even after the love bombing and mirroring is long gone. Love bombing and mirroring are not indicative of how they’re planning to treat you once you’re committed to them; as soon as they feel you are ready to fight for a life with them, roles will change and you will have to endure escalating abuse from this person, endlessly.

Scapegoats and people badly damaged by trauma will often not get the full love bombing or mirroring, narcissists will be able to win our devotion by acts of basic decency, small thoughtfulness and acting tolerant of our trauma symptoms, this will feel like everything to us, and once we decide this is a good, special person who makes us feel safe and we’d do anything for them, they’ll turn and exploit us endlessly.

Only way to spot this on time is: there will be a little voice of suspicion in your head going ’Isn’t this actually a little too perfect to be real? A little too convenient and ideal?’ and you will not want to listen to that voice. You should listen to it. It’s your instinct, trying to tell you something is off. I won’t blame you if you don’t. Most people won’t just walk away from their ideal partner because things seem 'too perfect’. But, get suspicious at least. Alert to red flags.

Enablers and Flying Monkeys

Narcissists can’t abuse if they’re on their own; they will work hard to build a reputation and charm people who they can later use for purposes of enabling, triangulating, controlling, scapegoating and smear campaigns. Enablers, or Flying Monkeys, are people who are either admiring the narcissists, want to be in narcissists good favour, are trauma bond and scared of the narcissists, are emotionally manipulated or simply too cowardly to point out that the narcissists is wrong and cruel. Most people will fall under the influence and want to be on narcissists side because it’s easier, tempting, feels safer, and doesn’t require much thinking. Narcissist will sometimes emotionally manipulate people to go do their dirty work; they will cry about how they miss their runaway children so flying monkeys would harass and judge children for running away, they will invent stories of abuse and insanity of their spouse so people would shame and judge the spouse who the narcissist is abusing. They create environment in which they can keep abusing and other people will jump to defend, justify, victim-blame and further confuse the victim. “They had a hard life”, “They’re your mother/father/uncle, you have to forgive them” or “He’s not that bad” are the phrases you’ll hear from enablers and flying monkeys. The term “Flying Monkey” is taken from the Wizard of Oz, because the Wicked Witch owned an army of brainless flying monkeys who would do her bidding – much how narcissists do with their enablers.

What enablers are doing is absolutely wrong. They should not be ready to defend abuse, or excuse and justify it, or believe and act on smear campaigns, not for any reason. They are hurting and isolating the victim, and regardless of how much they suck up to the narcissist, they will eventually become the targets too. Victims are right to cut out enablers just how they’re right to cut out abusers. You do not have to suffer for their cowardice or stupidity.

Triangulation is a form of abuse where narcissist brings another person into the relationship in order to bypass your boundary. For instance, you refuse to speak to the narcissist, so they send your family members, friends, or their friends, to talk to you about how much you’re hurting the narcissist and how cruel and unfair you’re being. Or, you’re trying to set a boundary in your marriage, and suddenly a friend or a relative comes talking to you about how unreasonable it is to set such awful boundary and to think of your spouse’s feelings and how bad they have it. Narcissist may try to use you for triangulation too, for example, they might tell you 'Go tell your sister she should do xyz and she’s making a mistake, she’ll listen to you’. It’s implied you agree with the narcissist, and that both of you are doing it for the sister’s good, when it’s more likely the narcissist is trying to force this person to do something they’re deeply set against and would only serve the narcissist. Narcissists will use their children to triangulate a marriage, they will often 'gang up’ other family members on their spouse, or one of the children. If you’re the victim, you’ll find yourself cornered, isolated, and in doubt whether you’re doing the right thing, trying to establish a boundary. Narcissists will also often show affection, compassion or even love to a third person simply to make you jealous and worried that something is wrong with you since you don’t get the same treatment. It’s what creates an illusion that the entire world is agreeing with the narcissist and no matter what you do, you look unreasonable for fighting them.

Narcissists will sometimes invent completely boogus scenarios and try to terrify people into doing their bidding and believing they’re right. As if the world will fall if narcissists don’t get what they want.

Society at large will often enable abusers; you can call out abuse and be rendered a 'killjoy’ because people prefer to enjoy cruelty together with the narcissist than to oppose them. Narcissists are capable of rousing a whole gang of people to turn against the victim and to aid in their abuse; this is scapegoating.

Gaslighting is a form of abuse where the abuser attacks your sense of reality. They will usually do this to obscure and deny acts of abuse. “I never said that” “That didn’t happen” “That’s not how I remember it” “You imagined it” or “You’re crazy, I would never do that!” are common gaslighting phrases abusers use for events that absolutely happened, and they absolutely remember. It’s even more powerful if they get other people to agree that you’re insane for remembering a past event of abuse. They can sometimes try to convince you that something didn’t occur while it’s still happening. This renders your intention of calling out abuse impossible; you’re now debating whether the event even happened and your sanity is questioned.

The point of this is to drive you into insanity; prolonged gaslighting will make you doubt your own memories and senses, and you will no longer be secure in your own point of view or version of reality. You will not be able to fight abuse, because you will get stuck on wondering if it’s even real, or if you’re making it up. Narcissist wants not only to abuse you, but to control your perception of it, reaction of it, and to disable you from telling anyone and being taken seriously. Smear campaign and gaslighting ensures that everyone thinks you’re lying to make problems, even you.

You can attempt to block gaslighting with phrases like 'That was not my experience’ 'I know the truth and I am not debating it with you’ ’ Don’t tell me what happened, I was there’ or ridiculing them for thinking it would work, but sometimes abuse will escalate if you refuse to play along, so be very careful with them.

Baiting, Projection and Scapegoating

Baiting is the way narcissist finds out which triggers will work on you. Types of baits are: Scaremongering, Accusations, False Claims, Guilt-tripping, Victim-playing, False Hope, or Intrigue. They will use these to elicit either fear&anxiety, or guilt&responsibility. You are likely to get pulled in and respond emotionally to these, and thus the narcissist will discover which one of these is most triggering and they can use it to either control you, or to affirm that they can still get you riled up, scared, guilty – they feed on being able to provoke these, it makes them feel powerful. They can later use the same trigger to push you into guilt and fear if you try to resist their control. If they continue doing this to you for a long time, you are likely to develop self-doubt and anxiety about your own persona. Way to counter this is to grey rock them.

Projection is a primitive defense-mechanism, where a person feels uncomfortable with their behaviour or thinking, so they accuse someone else of it to deflect the bad feelings from themselves. This can feel the same as baiting, but narcissists do it without realizing they’re giving you the information about what they’re actually feeling and doing. For instance, a narcissist will accuse you of being self-absorbed after they start feeling uncomfortable with how self-absorbed they are, they will start to call you selfish when it comes to their mind how selfish they are. They will accuse you of the exact shit they’ve been doing whether it’s lying, manipulating, faking for attention, cheating, exploiting, lacking compassion, stealing. These claims will feel like they’re coming out of nowhere at first, but eventually you will wonder if you’re really like that, and accept their projection on yourself, believing to really be as bad, or worse than they are. Even though they’ve done 100% of these things, while you have done none of it. This can also be countered by being aware what is going on and grey-rocking them. Deflecting the blame back to them will not work because they’ll either deflect it back, or throw a tantrum and insult you.

Scapegoating is the most vicious abuse narcissist can inflict on their victims and is designed to completely break a person’s spirit while creating power out of terror. Scapegoating doesn’t only serve to terrify and control the victim; it shows everyone what the narcissist is capable of, causing them to go very far to avoid becoming the next scapegoat. This creates enablers, flying monkeys and other benefits for narcissist to enjoy, while the scapegoat is isolated, not believed, and often shunned by the community to show loyalty to the narcissist.

Scapegoat will be blamed for every narcissists flaw, accused of provocation and creating trouble, shamed for their likes and interests, humiliated for their appearance or needs, their work will be rendered worthless and any pain and injury will be treated as if the scapegoat deserved it, or wanted it. Nothing is out of bounds to criticize or belittle in the scapegoat; flying monkeys will do it too, to either affirm themselves with the narcissist, or because they too crave power by stepping on someone defenseless. If a narcissistic parent decides to scapegoat a child, the other parent might stop caring for the child, and agree that the child deserves only to be neglected and shunned. The illusion narcissists create, of entire society agreeing that a person is irredeemable, deserving only of pain and ridicule, has turned people to suicide.

Scapegoat absorbs all of the narcissist’s malice, cruelty, sadism, baiting, projection, guilt and tantrums, so other people in the environment can get some relief and can use the scapegoat as their shield. You can be chosen to be a scapegoat for challenging the narcissist and standing up to them, for refusing to scapegoat someone else, for seeing thru them and showing any potential for undermining their authority, if narcissist is jealous of you, if narcissist feels threatened by your intellect, compassion and emotional depth they lack. And often, you’ll just be chosen because they’re in position of power and you’re unprotected. If you’re their child, a lonely classmate, employee with no high reputation or lots of friends, a minority, different in the way of sexuality or behaviour, anything that is easily used to sway a group of people against you. Narcissists will make sure to spread a smear campaign filled with lies against you, so that nobody would align with you, or believe you if you try to counter their word.

This type of treatment is beyond anything a human being could deserve, and devastating for the victim’s self esteem and sense of reality. After surviving a scapegoating situation, people might not want to find themselves in any social setting anymore. They might start believing themselves to be unlovable and defective. There is usually no way to counter it or fight your way out, unless there’s a higher authority who could side with you, or there’s a way to physically remove yourself from this environment.

Grey Rock, Hoovering and No Contact

Grey rock is a way to counter baiting and projection; narcissists learn and thrive on our emotional responses, it gives them a thrill to be able to send us into rage, terror, disbelief, shock or panic. Grey rocking means you give zero emotional response, and thus prove yourself very boring and a bad source of narcissistic supply. So, regardless of what egregious threat, accusation, claim or insult they make, you just reply with 'mhmm’ and look completely disinterested. You reply with one-word sentences, say 'sure’ or 'yup’ if they accuse you of something or try to fearmonger, answer questions with 'maybe’ or 'I don’t know’, agree with whatever bs they’re pulling out of their ass without caring, refuse to get pulled in or baited, give them no significance in the conversation until they leave. It is very hard to do, because they will up their game and even fly into rage to get a response, if they feel entitled to it. In some cases they might resort to violence. Often, they’ll keep changing the tactics until something works, and if nothing does, they’ll feel dejected and go find another source of supply. If they feel like they can’t get to you, this undermines their imagined power over you.

No contact is the only way to truly win against a narcissist; if they can’t reach you, they can’t manipulate or hurt you. This means no responding to messages, no letting them know where you live, blocking them on every service, and in most situations, even the enablers have to be no contact, because the narcissist is likely to send them into triangulation and use them to get to you. If you’re unable to go no-contact with a narcissist, a lot of people opt for 'low contact’, which means you only hear from them once a year, or once every 6 months, insufficient for them to gain control over you, and you grey-rock them all the way, and never share any personal info that might be used against you. Hoovering is something a narcissist will do to you after you’ve left them. They might leave you alone for a long time, then suddenly send a message saying they miss you, or they’re thinking about you and wishing you could do xyz together. They might also influence another person to tell you 'x misses you, they wish to see you again, they’re doing bad without you’. This is done to remind you of the 'good times’ and an attempt to draw you back in, as you’re supposed to have forgotten all the abuse already and be ready to take them back. It might come as outrageous expectation or denial of everything bad that happened – that’s because it is. All you have to do is grey-rock this, not respond, and enjoy in knowledge that even if you can’t ensure revenge, you can take yourself away from them, and they will never have you back.

Sources: Baiting, Scapegoating, LoveBombing, Gaslighting(video), Projection(video), Triangulation, Mirroring(video), FlyingMonkeys (video), Hoovering, Grey Rock

#narcissistic abuse #scapegoating #psychological abuse #narcissistic parents #emotional abuse #gaslighting #love bombing #mirroring #baiting #projection #triangulation #flying monkeys #enablers #this took 3 days to write wow #did you notice tumblr beta has a character limit???#i had to turn it off to be able to post this #i don't want a character limit on tumblr #let people read

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

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Okay okay, I’m super excited and nervous bc i’ve never requested anything but: can I request some headcanons of Dainsleif, Scaramouche and Tartaglia falling in love with a god? I’m the anon from that ask 😅

archons of my heart

this might have been the most different set of short little stories i’ve ever written - each character responds so differently to this scenario! (note: based on what we know about these characters, I stuck true to their values* - it might not be what you were intending, and I keep things true to their character) <3

Warning -> angst (Dain), fluff (Childe), genera/fluff?(Scara - mention of long hair)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Dainsleif, Scaramouche, Childe

Dain

Devastated, conflicted - these words have never resonated more in his mind than the day he found out about who you were, what you were

What does he do … he dislikes, no hates the archons and yet … you were one of them - you’d always been one of them and the whole time you hid this fact from him knowing full well the feelings he had for them

He couldn’t really hear as you desperately tried to explain to him why, he only heard the shattering of his heart as your face turned into something he no longer recognized

He stood there, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, eyes tracking your movement as you paced back and forth in front of him, your feet wearing down the grass with each passover.

“I know you’ll never forgive them for what happened …” You begin, your voice somehow distorted now that he saw you for what you really were. He didn’t have words to respond, he felt out of his body. An observer rather than a participant, how he wished that were the case.

You stepped closer to him, hands reaching for his arm - the arm that had been tainted for so long - and without noticing he recoiled from your outreach. It was the first time he had ever deliberately refused your touch and, although he understood the pain it caused you, it was clear from the reaction of your face, he couldn’t bear your hands on him. Not now, not when the whole world was crumbling down around him.

You stood there, just the way you always did, incredible, perfect, beautiful and reverent in a way no-one ever looked before - he loved you, he thought he loved you

You were so different than those gods that destroyed everything he ever knew, everything he ever cared for, fought for

If only you hadn’t tried to save him then maybe he could have gone on living in the delusion of this relationship .. though, it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway - one day he’d notice how you never aged ... it was inevitable

To love you, to love you so deeply and intensely; to love you after keeping his heart sealed up for so long, to love you with the passion that burns like the stars in the sky only to know this truth - he felt that light burn out in a painful flash

An eye for an eye - he will maintain his beliefs

“Dainsl…”

“Do not …” His voice caught in his throat, it was the first time you’d heard him be taken over by his emotions, “ … do not speak my name.”

“Please, I love you.” Your hands pressed against your chest, body bent forward as if to beg him, plead with him to reconsider.

“I owe you nothing but the repayment of the life that you saved. I shall spare yours to conclude my debt.” For one final time he gazed upon your face, burning into memory the cheeks that he once touched, the eyes that held his breath, the lips that lingered against his skin and were capable of transforming into the most incredible smile. He looked, he lingered, he tried so hard to will the power in him that would whisk him as far from you as he could go but each time he tried he stalled, like a stubborn fool he hesitated.

Your wet cheeks moved as you studied at him with a hopeful, supplicating smile, your head shook and your lips parted as if to call out to him and the power he lacked to leave you filled him suddenly. Like a flash of lightning in a storm he disappeared from your eyes.

Citizens will often recall the days when it rained with an intensity of a woeful god, and can’t help but notice the mysterious man who would leave the room every time your name was mentioned.

Scara

Cool -- cool, cool, cool - you’re a divine being - bet

It’s very likely that Scara will be excited about this revelation - he already thinks so highly of himself that knowing that he has captured the affection of a god only swells his pride more than it already did

He’s so smug when you tell him, when you spill to him what you are - he doesn't believe it either and will make you demonstrate that power to him and if you look back at him after your display, you’ll see him with a devious grin

Be careful, he may manipulate you to act as an extension of his wishes -- and if he has any vengeance to enact on the people who harmed him, you’ll have to be very strong in your convictions (though, you can do whatever you’d like honestly, you a god)

“Again.” Scara commands, his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up so he can look at you from his perch on the rock and a smile stretched so far across his face you wonder how his lips don’t steam in pain.

“I’ve already shown you multiple times. Do you still not believe me?” You huff, resting your hands on your hips, adamant that you won’t comply with his request.

“Okay okay, I’m convinced.” He shrugs, hoping off of his stoop and walking toward you. “So how long have you been a god?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to keep track of the years … though I’d say around 500.”

“Interesting. Can you make me a god?”

“No, I don’t have that authority.”

“Disappointing, but oh well.” He stopped just before you, he was shorter than you so you looked down at him, thankful that he removed his hat otherwise you’d have a hard time seeing his face. He reached for a strand of your long hair, his fingers twirling around it before sliding down the silky strands and repeating the process. “So, why did you decide to tell me this secret of yours?”

“I …” Why did you tell him? You knew what kind of person he was, you knew the actions that would follow - his greed and selfishness would motivate him to use this information for his own advantage. “Against my better judgement, I told you because I love you.” You cover your face with your hand, embarrassed by the confession. It’s the first time you’ve ever fallen in love with a human before, Scara was your first and that notion electrified your skin.

“You love me?” You didn’t need to see him to catch the cocky attitude spilling from him.

“I do …” You replied with a sigh.

“Who would have thought that?” “Listen, if you’re going to make fun of me then I’ll just …” Your voice was cut off by Scara pulling you toward him and pressing his lips against your own. Your knees nearly gave way at the contact and you reached to his arms to stabilize yourself. His lips are thin and the power he uses, the pressure of the kiss tells you what kind of man he is.

“This is excellent news, don’t think I’ll let you get away from me now.” He hummed, his lips dancing over your own as he spoke, his breath warming your skin. Was this really the best human that could have stolen your heart? Well, you were sure it wouldn’t be borning.

Childe

He’s likely indifferent to your real status - to find out that you’re an archon or a god - he’s almost unsurprised by the news

You wonder if he didn’t already know that you weren’t human, you wouldn’t put it past him to have done some digging on you and after being alive for so long it was bound to be suspicious that you knew things that many people didn’t anymore -- it was also suspicious that Zhongli seemed to recognize you pretty quickly, his eyes shining as if he saw an old friend

“You could have just told me.” Childe emphasized, crossing his arms and leaning against the large pole behind him.

“I know … but, well I wasn’t really planning on sticking around.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those.”

“Ah, no! That’s not what I meant.” For being of reverence, you always found yourself stumbling over your words when talking to Childe. “Ugh, I meant that I didn’t think that … well that I’d fall in love with a human.” You picked at your clothes and shook your head.

“If there was ever a human for you to fall head over heels for, I am the best candidate for that.” You looked at him, laughing at the way he pointed his thumbs at his chest and grinned from his own joke.

“I don’t know … maybe I made a mistake?” You express, rubbing your chin with your hands.

“Hey now!”

“I’m joking of course … so, you really aren’t … upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” He asked, eyes furrowing and head tilting to the side.

“I don’t know … my timeline is different from yours for one.”

“So. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“There will be a day when you’ll be old and I won’t have aged a day.”

“Don’t care.” You huff and take a few steps away from him. He didn’t seem to grasp what it meant to be in love with a god. This was the reason you rarely took human companions, the guilt in your heart at watching them age and the pain of losing them was all a strain on your heart.

“Childe …” You begin again but as you turn to face him you notice he’s moved from his place and is now standing in front of you.

“I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you’ve done.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, his breath of humanity filling your very soul. “I love you, and I don’t take that feeling lightly.”

“I don’t want you to regret choosing a partner who cannot live a normal human life.”

“If I wanted a normal life, I wouldn’t be where I am to begin with. What I want is you, and I’m pretty good at getting what I want.” He smirked and kissed each knuckle on your hand. How was it that a man could bring down a god so easily?

“Now, the real question …” Childe’s tone shifted, his body extended to his full height which made you tilt your head to look at him. “Do you still have your divine powers or whatever?”

“Like …?”

“Like, can you summon lightning or manipulate the earth with a snap of your fingers?”

“Haha, oh, I still have my abilities, yes. There were times I had to fight, so I’ve adapted them for those purposes.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you along after him. “Let’s fight, don't hold back.”

“Childe! That’s dangerous.”

“Even better.” He gave you a quick wink before dragging you to a place where the two of you could engage in the battle of his dreams.

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #dainsleif x reader #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #scaramouche

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maybe-your-left · 2 years

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what goes up must comes down - chapter three

Summary: "You cheated on me…”

“So, you took that as a free pass to run away? Because some girl sucked my dick? I didn’t even know her name! I was so high, I didn’t even realize it was happening until someone showed me a picture of it.”

“You still did it.”

Kylo groaned, invading your bubble with an accusing finger, “Yes, I fucking cheated on you. Is that what you want to hear? That I made a mistake in the seven years we were together, and I apologized profusely to you. Even when you threw me out, I was still fucking there for you and our baby.”

You pushed Kylo’s hand from your face, wiping your face from the tears. Kylo took a shaky breath above you, “What do you want from me? Did you want me to come here and just forget everything? To be ready to see you and Nyx? You didn’t even tell me her name until I signed that paper.”

“I don’t know Kylo…”

“What do you know?”

A link to my Mega Masterlist, Kylo Ren Masterlist, and my Random Ren Masterlist, and what goes up must come down Masterlist for all your stalking needs.

:) mind the fuckin tags

The rest of the evening went smooth, thank god. Kylo wasn’t sure he could handle another Nyx tantrum, he felt bad for (Y/N). And his own mother because he was notorious for those outbursts when he was younger. It was like looking in a mirror, a dirty mirror that showed all his flaws.

Nyx moved on after her nap just fine, pretending like she didn’t attack a random person and her mother. While (Y/N) tried to keep her busy, he knew she was worried about leaving her alone with him. Since he had hurt her earlier, but he hadn’t meant to. Sometimes he forgets how strong he really is, but he wasn’t anticipating her to drag him to the kitchen.

He tried to continue his meeting after that, but the sound of her crying made him feel like shit. Forcing him to remember when they were younger and he had hit her in his sleep, waking up to her sobbing with a broken nose. It was a mistake, and he tried to calm her down.

Or the time after that when Kylo had accidentally broken her leg, it was not his fault she wasn’t holding on to him hard enough. But yes, he felt like utter shit. Each time he hurt her, especially when she found out he cheated on her.

Her betrayed face snarled at him, struggling to pry his arms off her as he begged her to calm down. It wasn’t good for the baby or her to get so worked up, he pleaded for her to sit down and breathe. But she was livid at him, dragging his stuff to the front door. Smacking him across the face when he sobbed how sorry he was, ‘it was just a blowjob-I didn’t fuck her! I love you, please!’.

That memory exhausted him, no matter how hard he tried to bury it. Each time he saw something that reminded him of it, he would spiral out of control. And the sound of her tears made the wounds feel fresh. He had two options, he could either destroy the office he was seated in.

Or he could try to make her forgive him, without saying sorry.

Which, didn’t fucking work because his daughter is exactly like him. Forcing him to be an adult and help her corral Nyx, getting beaten by her tiny fists all because she was terrified he would hurt their child.

Kylo walked back inside the house, careful to not slam any doors. He wasn’t sure if she was awake still, or if she knew he went for a run. But he didn’t want to do something to startle the both of them.

He grabbed a bottle of water, chugging half the contents before stepping out to the back patio. Overlooking a large yard and river mouth, it was beautiful. When the moonlight shimmered across the water, it made him feel slightly better. Kylo produced a pack of cigarettes, saying a silent sorry for not being strong enough to avoid doing this around his daughter. He leaned against the railing, taking a deep drag.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, blowing a long plume of smoke into the night air. Not even taking time to recover, another drag and exhale. Determined to fast track the nicotine into his veins, just to calm him enough to fall asleep.

Kylo finished in two more drags, upset at himself for not savoring it. But the buzz was good enough to forgive, so he drank some more water. Pushing himself off the railing to turn inside when he bumped into something.

“Jesus!”

He held both hands in the air, staring at (Y/N)’s face. She was just as shocked as he was, breathing like she was a rabbit about to be eaten by a fox.

“What are you doing out here?”

Kylo lowered his arms, “I could ask you the same thing.”

She rolled her eyes, “Well, it smells like you were smoking.” She walked to his left, towards the hot tub. He watched her tear off the top and place a hand inside. Kylo didn’t notice her turning it on earlier, but she seemed satisfied with the temperature. “Can’t believe you still do that.”

He glared at her, she was just standing there. Hugging her robe tight against her form while she watched him. “I was stressed out,” he grumbled, peeking inside to see if their collision woke up Nyx.

He heard her robe drop, followed by her hissing at the hot water, “Well that's what hot tubs are for.”

She relaxed into the jets, her hair nestled in a messy bun atop her head. She looked so peaceful like she wasn’t on a vacation from hell with him and their demon child. They met eyes, she looked at him and then at the sliding door, “You finished your cigarette, you can go away now.”

“Why?”

She glared at him, “Because you don’t need to be out here while I’m bathing. I don’t want you eye-fucking me while I’m trying to relax.”

Kylo stared at her, floored by her accusation. He was not eye-fucking her, he had done nothing of the sort. He would know if he was, he’s been specifically avoiding her because he was ignoring how good she looked.

So opposite of eye-fucking.

More like giving himself blue balls.

She snickered, “You having trouble over there? The door is to your right.”

“Okay no,” Kylo wasn’t letting her win. He tore his shirt off, kicking his shoes off as he walked to the tub, she was blubbering about what he was doing. But he didn’t care, he had seen the way she looked at him. Acting like she was better than him when she was just as horny, two could play at this game. Kylo pulled off his pants, leaving him in his black briefs that hugged him quite snug.

“Nuh-uh, get away from me Kylo,” she pushed to the far corner.

Kylo shook his head, smirking at her when her eyes flashed to his crotch. Cheeks flushing a deeper shade before she looked at the sky. “Don’t you dare,” she whimpered. He climbed right in, hissing as she did in the hot water. But he was already wet, there was no turning back. He stood in the middle of the tub, water barely coming up to his hips. If it weren’t for the bubbles she would be face to face with his cock.

One of her feet came up to nudge him away, she had her eyes squeezed shut as she did. “Get out you’re ruining my relaxation time.” Kylo shook his head, snatching her foot and dragging her towards him. Her face momentarily went under the bubbles as he hoisted her left leg all the way out of the water. “What's wrong?” he teased, at this angle, he was faced with her skimpy bikini. Barely covering her privates, if Kylo looked straight down he would see a scrap of fabric concealing her cunt from his eyes.

He yanked on her ankle again, forcing her to yelp and open her legs more. Allowing him to glimpse between her legs. Kylo was so focused on it, he didn’t notice her hand coming up to smack him.

“Let go of me!”

Kylo dropped her instantly, stumbling back from the blow. It wasn’t a harsh slap, but it was the first time he’d been slapped in years. He looked at her confused, “What the fuck, (Y/N)? You can’t just hit me. You’re the one who egged me on.”

“I didn’t ask you to come in here and try to rape me!”

“Okay-what? Did you think I was going to rape you? Seriously?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, tucking herself into the corner. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as she took in deep breaths. Kylo was floored, he was just trying to rile her up, she was doing the same to him. He had no intention of taking it too far.

“You actually think I would do that.”

Kylo shook his head, climbing out of the tub despite her denials. Her face said it all, she thought he came here to hurt her. Actually hurt her, even though he harbored hatred towards her for what she’d done. He couldn’t imagine doing that to her.

“Wait,” she scrambled out of the tub, yanking on his left arm. Kylo looked up at the sky, not wanting her to see how wounded he was. “Kylo-wait, please. I’m sorry. I don’t think you would do that to me. You just freaked me out-and earlier you really hurt me-and…”

“I apologized for that.”

“It still happened though!”

Kylo sighed, shaking her hand off him. He was cold, standing out here on the deck dripping from the waist down. “This was a bad idea,” he moved past her, “I’m done.”

“What?!”

“I said I’m done. I can’t be here with you when you think I’m the villain.”

She looked at him like he was stupid, brow furrowed in confusion while her bottom lip trembled.

“I’m not the one who ran away. I spent years looking for you, and you were just gone. And I thought you would come back someday, saying that you overreacted but no. I waited and waited for you to call me or text me or something, just to tell me you were okay.”

“Kylo…”

“No-you, you are the villain here. And just because I held your wrist too hard or teased you doesn’t make you a victim. You took everything from me, and it was stupid of me to think you would be sorry.”

“I-I-”

“But, you’re not. Just like everyone else, you were just fine without me. So I’m leaving, and I don’t care if you cry or plead for me to stay because this was a mistake. It was a mistake to love you in the first place.”

------

You tried to sleep.

Tried to ignore the guilt lying on your chest.

It was selfish of you to think that Kylo didn’t need an apology. To think that he was fine with your decision, you never thought twice about the consequences at the time.

But he did.

Now it's 2 AM, and you can’t sleep.

You got up slowly, sliding on your slippers. You opened your door as quietly as you could. Not wanting to wake up Nyx, you tiptoed down the hallway. Swallowing back your fears when you approached his door.

You knocked.

“Please be awake…”

A few moments later the door opened up a sliver of the way. Kylo stood there glaring at you. “What do you want?”

“I thought we could talk.”

“No.”

He moved to shut the door but you braced yourself against it, “No, please Kylo. Please, I need to talk to you.”

“I think we’ve spoken enough in the past five years, we don’t want to mess up our streak.”

You groaned, almost on the verge of tears, “Please Kylo.”

Kylo looked above your head, angrily glaring at the railing behind you. His jaw was tense and chest tight, you pressed on the door softly, “I just want to talk, please.”

He exhaled slowly, moving away from the door so you could follow him inside. You tried to ignore the fact that his bed was untouched, Kylo didn’t even try to sleep. With one sniff you could tell he had been chain-smoking in the bathroom. He stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed while he looked at the floor.

Guess that was your cue to begin, you crossed the room. Perching on the side of the bed and looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I am, will you just shut up and let me do this?”

He grunted, moving to the edge of the room. Loitering in the door frame to the bathroom, you stared at his back. Watching how he took in stressful breaths, looking at how ratted his hair was. Probably from him running his fingers through it since he stormed inside, tearing out strands like he did when you were younger.

“I am sorry,” you tried to keep your voice from wavering, “I never thought about how you would be when I left. I thought you would be happy, relieved even. That you could go sleep around and not have a child to deal with.”

“When did I ever say that’s what I wanted?”

You stayed quiet, fighting back the tears in your eyes.

“Did you think that I wanted you to leave? That I wanted to be away from you and our child? Or for you to just disappear? For fucks sake we were having a baby, after years of being together. I didn’t want you to go.”

“You cheated on me…”

“You still did it.”

“I don’t know Kylo…”

“What do you know?”

You broke down, sobbing on the bed. Unable to keep yourself together, “I was scared!” you hiccuped. Wiping your face with your arms, even though more tears came after that as you tried to talk through it, “I didn’t want you to come back! I thought that you would hurt me again, and you would hurt her. It was okay when you just hurt me-but what if she grew up with you being there and you cheated on me again?”

Kylo said nothing.

“She would have to deal with the aftermath of you doing that, and I couldn’t have you hurting her.”

You cried again, holding your head in your hands. Trying to drown out all the guilt you felt, all the reasons why you left crumbling at his questioning. None of them sounded good enough, there were families all over the world who dealt with cheating. And they didn’t leave without a trace, just to protect themselves. Why was your situation different?

The mattress squeaked next to you, Kylo’s weight settling. You watched his hands run up and down his legs, squeezing hard on his knees. He said nothing, and you said nothing. There was nothing to do, all you could do was cry.

So you did.

And Kylo let you.

“Did you,” you looked at him, “Did you already change your flights?”

He shook his head.

“Are you going to?”

A deep sigh, “I don’t know. Being here is horrible, but going back is just as bad.”

You nodded, “I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but I wish you would stay.”

Silence.

“Do you want to smoke?”

You burst out laughing, mixed with crying. Kylo stayed still, staring at the floor but you could see his shoulders heaving. With tears or laughter, it didn’t matter. You set a soft palm on his back feeling his muscles tense and then relax under your touch. Letting you scratch between his shoulder blades, up to the nape of his neck while you both existed together.

Kylo stood after a little, walking to the bathroom. You heard a window slide open and a lighter turn on, you stood too. Making sure to close the bedroom door, you followed into the bathroom. He sat on a window ledge while you sat on the edge of the tub, smoking in silence. He chuckled when you coughed on the first drag, it had been a while.

You smoked with him when you were younger, just because it was nice to see him relaxed. And it relaxed you too, but you both stopped when you were pregnant. After that, you didn’t have time for it, but Kylo clearly did. Judging by how quickly he went through them. Your heart ached as he stared out the window, the moonlight shining on his stony face. Blinking slowly between each drag.

“Are you going to sleep?” you whispered. Catching his eyes flash to you before looking out again, he sighed, “I don’t sleep much anymore.”

You nodded, “She usually wakes me at 5 or 6, so I get that.”

He smiled a little, ashing out his cigarette before shutting the window. Both of you left the bathroom, Kylo drank some water while you stared at the door. “Do you-” you looked back at him, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“It’s fine.”

“I can scratch your back like you like,” you held up your hands, “My nails are long.”

Kylo rolled his eyes, pulling back the sheets before laying on his side. His back facing you as he mumbled, “Do what you want.”

So you did.

Climbing into bed with him, scratching his back through his shirt. So he could feel how sorry you were. You tried to make him feel better, maybe give him some much needed sleep. He looked exhausted from everything today.

———

You woke up with weight on your chest, pinning you to the mattress. You whined, trying to angle out of the embrace. Blinking rapidly from the bright sunlight filtering into the room, you threw your head to the left. Squinting at the wall, that wasn’t your wall…

Where the fuck were you?

A heavy grunt came from your right, followed by a snore. You looked down, well tried. There was a shoulder on your chest, attached to a very large man. Kylo was draped over you, your legs slotted together. His arms were cradling you to his chest, your left arm and leg were the only things you could move. Hooking your leg over his hip, you dug your heel into his body.

Unfortunately, that made him roll his hips into yours.

Momentarily grazing your cunt with his morning wood. You couldn’t hold in the whimper that fell from your lips, sleeping Kylo seemed to like that. Rocking against you in small thrusts, the fabric of your sleep shorts giving way to his length. You sunk your nails into his shoulder, pushing him off you but he was still dead weight on you. Pressing his hips into you like he was having the best dream of his life, humping you like a pillow.

You let out a muffled scream, trying to push away the thoughts of lust that flooded your brain. And the ache that flew to your cunt, wishing that it was being filled by something. Maybe even Kylos' larger-than-average cock… stretching and tearing you open. Weeping along his length as he buried himself into you.

A gravelly moan filled the air, followed by Kylos’ body moving to thrust against you harder. His tip catching just right, rubbing the fabric against your slit. You flexed your hips against him, not trying to match his movements but… the feeling was so nice. You could cum from this, your shorts were already soaked so why not finish before he woke up for real.

“Fuck” you whimpered, pressing your forehead into the crook of his neck. How he could breathe with his face shoved in a pillow was a miracle, but he needed to keep going. You were so fucking close, hitching your leg a little higher…

“Mommy!”

The door flew open, Nyx ran into the room and jumped on the bed. Both you and Kylo froze, you looked at your daughter with wide eyes. She began bouncing on the mattress, “Mommy! It’s time to get up! I’m hungry!”

She looked down at you, her hair all over her face. Dressed in her little pink princess pajamas as she stared at Kylo grinding on you. “Kylo! Get off my Mommy!” She pushed on his shoulder playfully, “It’s time to get up!”

“Nyx,” you hissed, smacking her hand off Kylos’ shoulder. But it was already too late, his face was moving from its spot to your right. You felt him rest his cheek against yours, you couldn’t see his face but he was probably confused. He had never been woken by a child or woken up on top of his ex.

“What?” he rasped, you pushed on his right shoulder, trying to get him off you before Nyx asked why he was on top of you. Or before she ripped the blankets off you both and revealed that your shorts soaked the front of his pajamas. Kylo pushed himself up on his right arm, angling himself off you. He looked at Nyx, then down at you with a confused face.

“Hi,” you whispered.

Nyx squealed again, “Kylo, your hair is messy.”

“What?”

He looked back down at you. You smiled at him, holding the sheet up before he could knock it off the both of you. “Nyx, Baby, can you go downstairs? I’ll be down in just a minute to make food okay?”

“Okay!”

She ran out of the room, leaving you and Kylo to stare at each other. Your hips were still locked together, “Morning,” you whispered. Kylo looked down between your bodies, tensing when he felt how close you both were. Kylo looked up at the headboard, taking a deep breath. And then he ground down, both of you let out a moan.

“How long?”

You took a breath, keeping your eyes shut as he rubbed against you, “I woke up right before she came in.”

Kylo moved above you, leaning on his arm again. You felt his hand travel between you both, slipping under your shorts to cup your cunt. You yelped, feeling his middle finger swipe between your lips before plunging inside your needy entrance, “Shit”.

He quickly sat upon his knees, yanking his finger out of you in a slick spot, and fumbled with his pants. “Flip over,” you stared at his cock. Hard and red in his hand, he stroked it a few times, circling the tip in his palm. “Now.”

You quickly rolled, balancing on your face while you yanked your shorts down enough for him. Kylo lined up with your cunt, wasting no time thrusting inside you. “Oh fuck,” you cried out, walls clenching around him. Stretching for his size, leaning on your forearms. Kylo wrapped an arm under you, hooking his left hand on your shoulder to yank you back to him. You let him move you, slamming his cock into you over and over.

Fingers digging into your collar bone, your eyes fluttered shut feeling his breath hit the back of your neck. Hot and heavy, close enough to taste your skin, you gasped as a wet tongue flicked out.

“Fuck.”

You pressed your hips back into his, arching as best you could with his heavy form weighing down. Knees struggling to spread out, Kylos free hand slid down the length of your side. Pressing fingertips into the pillowy flesh of your backside, “Lets get these off, I want you spread more.”

Whimpering in response, your brain wasn’t working right now. More focused on keeping your cunt available for him to plow. Kylo slipped his hand towards the hem of your shorts, yanking down to your bent knees. Thrusting in and out of your wetness, coating the back of your thighs.

Muffling your wails into the pillow, “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whimpered.

“Get there,” he hissed in your ear. Ramming his cock again, your right hand snaked down. Flicking your aching clit over and over, Kylo grunted when you clenched around him. Both of you came together, he pressed his face into your back while you squealed into the sheets.

Warmth spread through your center, his cum filling you up so nicely. Sticky and warm, deep inside you while he thrusted a few more times.

You stayed gravely still, trying to process what the fuck just happened. Kylo seemed to be doing the same thing, leaving his cock inside you until he softened, squelch echoing off the walls when he did.

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped when Nyx screamed for you. You flinched, hearing her feet running on the wood and up the stairs. You kicked Kylo off you, falling off the bed while you slipped your shorts back on. Ignoring the cum sliding down your inner thighs.

“Coming Baby!”

-----

Kylo avoided eye contact when he went downstairs, grabbing a smoothie before grunting that he was going for a run. He didn’t wait for her response, too embarrassed and confused to deal with her right now.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep last night, only laying down.

Maybe feeling her nails scrape his back when they went under his shirt. Practically purring at the contact, it was the best he had felt in years. Kylo slept so well, and long, usually he woke up at 4. Needing to move around after a night of fitful sleep, punching his pillow or not sleeping at all, and moving on with his day.

He was a bit frazzled from sleeping that long.

And waking up on top of her, that was shocking.

Nyx was shocking too, he forgot he was in Niagara with his child. Ready to kick her off the bed so he could fuck whatever was beneath him. And he did, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t.

But what was he supposed to do?

Just kick them both out??

“Shit,” he mumbled, realizing he blacked out during his run. He was already at the front steps of the house, chest heaving and brow sweaty. He couldn’t go inside, what would he say? I’m sorry you decided to sleep with me, I can’t help it if I fucked you, you shouldn’t have been grinding on me.

Yeah, no.

Another lap, that will fix it.

“Kylo?”

Shit, she's looking at him.

“Aren't you eating breakfast?” She looked at him confused, holding a cup of coffee that smelled heavenly, “I made eggs and bacon, come eat.”

Kylo gave in too easily, he could’ve struggled.

But no, he came inside. Drank the coffee that she made and listened to Nyx talk about the zoo they were going to today. He wasn’t aware they were doing things together, that wasn’t a part of the plan when they spoke on the phone. But she looked so happy, so he just ate in silence and listened to her talk about hippos and tigers.

“Do you have work to do today?”

Kylo looked at her confused, then he remembered he was using work as a ploy to avoid being around them both. “Oh,” he swallowed the rest of his bacon, “I have a few things to do today.”

“Okay,” she smiled at him, “I wanted to take her to the zoo, obviously, do you want to come with us or stay here?”

“Why would I stay here?”

She looked at him weirdly, “I didn’t know if you wanted to go with us.”

“No-I spent all this money to not spend time with her.”

Not the right answer, she rolled her eyes. Mumbling something rude to him across the table, but Kylo didn’t care. He could finish everything when they got back, might as well try to be a good father. Just to make her feel guiltier. “When are we leaving?”

She perked up at that, “We just need to shower, do you need a few hours to do work?”

Kylo waved a hand, “They can wait, I own the company. Let's all shower and go, I don’t want to wait in lines.”

“It’s a zoo, Kylo. Not an amusement park.”

“So, I’m just expected to wait to look at some animals fucking each other?”

She kicked him under the table, giving him a dirty look. But Nyx laughed, and that's all that mattered. Even though her foot almost shattered his kneecap.

“What’s your favorite animal, Kylo?”

“Um.”

“Mine is a bat.”

He gave (Y/N) a weird look, glancing back at the stuffed animal in Nyxs’ lap. Now that he was staring at it, it was a fucking bat. How he never noticed that was beyond him, “Why a bat?”

“Because they can fly, and bite people!”

Kylo nodded, scooting away from his daughter. He looked up at (Y/N) who was trying to hold in a laugh. Finishing the rest of her breakfast, “She watched a kids show about vampires a couple of months ago, she really likes them.”

“Seems like a totally normal thing for children to like.”

Breakfast went by smoothly, Nyx talked on and on about bats and other random shit. Kylo tried to keep up but her stories were so scrambled he had no idea what was going on. How she remembered all this shit was beyond him, he could barely remember what he ate last week. And Nyx was talking about her school friends and favorite colors like she had it all written in a notebook.

Multiple times he said his favorite color was black, once throwing in a red to throw her off but it didn’t phase her. Talking with her mouth full, even though her mom scolded her for it. Kylo felt strange, every time his heart swelled when Nyx looked at him. Wanting to tell him everything she could, but she never called him dad. Which was hard, he was just a friend.

Her mom's friend.

Maybe when she was older she would put together the pieces, when she took Nyx away from him again.

Kylo got dressed before everyone, he didn’t want to be in the mess of two women getting ready. His memory of her getting ready was enough to make him hide in the office downstairs, replying to emails and messages. He had his secretary cancel his meetings for the next few days, having her tell them it was a family emergency.

Not that his employees would believe that, he worked on every major holiday.

Never taking time for family, and now he was suddenly gone for a week in an emergency. They all probably thought he was on a sex romp, and judging by this morning it wouldn’t be a false assumption.

Kylo loitered around downstairs, looking at the generic art on the walls. Trying to not listen to his ex scold Nyx for touching the hair tools. How she wasn’t supposed to put her hands in her makeup, she would do her hair later. He tried to suppress the smile that surfaced, Nyx was a little demon. It made him feel better, knowing that she was messing with everything she could. Just like he did as a child, thank god they weren’t blessed with a normal kid. Instead, she was a mix of everything terrible about Kylo and everything nice from her mother, a perfect storm to give her gray hairs when she turned 30.

Both of them came down the stairs in a flash, Nyx jumped at him. Kylo caught her, ignoring his irritation at her mother talking on the phone. Judging by her tone she was on the phone with a man, hissing about clothes or other useless shit. He balanced Nyx on his hip, letting her drape her arms around his neck. “Kylo, what animal do you want to see? I want to see a bat.”

“I don’t think they have bats at zoos, Nyx,” he mumbled, fishing the keys from his pocket while he pushed past her mother. Nodding along as she spoke, he held the door open for her, listening to her argue on the phone. Kylo tried to ignore the flare of jealousy he had, whoever she was yelling at had her attention at some point. Probably some boyfriend she had and Nyx considered her father, walking around their house like they owned it. Well jokes on them, Kylo came inside her this morning.

So he wins.

Kylo set Nyx in her seat, listening to her tell him what belts to buckle. He pretended like he knew already but was thankful for his daughter being bossy enough to show him. Kylo glanced back at (Y/N), she was standing with her arms crossed. Anger colored her face as she spat into the phone, Kylo felt slightly bad for the other person.

He had been on that end before, listening to her wrath. Just trying to explain himself while she cut into him with a precise knife. Kylo opened her door for her, motioning for her to climb in, she made an apologetic face at him. Mouthing out, ‘sorry’ as she climbed in.

Kylo waited for her to get off the phone.

She angled the phone away from him, “Why aren’t you driving?”

“I don’t know where we are going.”

“Oh,” she paused, speaking into the phone, “I have to go-love you.”

Kylo gagged, trying to fight off the feeling those words gave him. They weren’t for him, so he needed to just move on, “Sorry, we are going here.” She typed in the destination, smiling at him as she settled, “Thanks for getting her in, I had some stuff to deal with.”

“Hm,” Kylo drove off, looking back at Nyx who was smiling down at her bat toy. “Everything okay?”

He cringed at that, that was not what he meant to say. Why was he being like this? He should’ve said something mean, like ‘don’t worry, I handled our daughter’ or something else rude. Why did he care if she was okay?”

She looked just as startled at his words, “Yeah, it was nothing. Just drama.”

Kylo hummed, trying to ignore the second flare of jealousy he felt. Getting on the highway without a word, listening to Nyx and her mother chat about animals. Nyx psyched herself up, asked questions and squealed the closer they got. He ignored her, looking at him with those big eyes, begging him to break and join in.

No, he wasn’t here to become soft.

He was just here to meet his daughter.

Kylo was ready to make his ex feel shitty, and have his daughter love him for years to come so every day her mother would feel horrible for tearing his child from him.

------

“Nyx,” you scolded for the fifth time, holding onto her hoodie tightly, “Stay by me, you can’t run around here.”

She groaned at you, whining about other kids getting to run around. You were fed up already, and you were barely finished with the zoo. Nyx was trying to escape at every outlet, thankfully Kylo was there to snatch her. It made things easier, she was so small to him.

He barely had to move to grab her, just lifting her in his arms and setting her back between you both. Saying nothing when she grabbed his hand. Trying to drag him towards whatever caught her eye, but he was too big for her. Kylo looked miserable, trying to stay away from other children around him and keep Nyx from disappearing.

You tried to keep her close, kissing her head when she stood in front of you at an exhibit. Kylo stood a considerable distance from you both, but Nyx called him forward and he always obliged her. Mumbling something like ‘yes I see’, ‘they are big’, ‘it's pronounced Elephant Nyx.’.

“Come on,” you held your hand out for Nyx, “Are you hungry?”

“Yes!”

You nodded with her, pulling her away from a group of children. Kylo followed you both, walking slowly with a sour look on his face. “Do you want to pick out a new stuffed animal here?”

Nyx squealed, booking it towards the gift shop.

Kylo walked up behind you, squeaking when you felt his hand on your lower back, “Does she really need something from here?”

You shrugged, smiling up at him, “She’s a kid, she likes new toys. Plus, it gives me an excuse to throw away her old ones.”

“I’m not eating here.”

“Oh really? I thought you loved giraffe fries?”

Kylo glared at you, pushing you forward. You both followed Nyx to the gift shop, Kylo scolded her for touching everything. Producing some hand sanitizer from his pocket, making her clean her hands before touching him. You forgot how crazy he was, your purse used to be full of crap he would carry. From wipes to cigarettes, tiny bottles of cologne, and hand sanitizer.

He let her pick out one thing, regretting it gravely when she grabbed the largest toy she could find. An oversized tiger, bigger than her entire body, but she flashed her sad eyes at Kylo and he caved. You’ve had a lot of time training yourself against that look, but he crumbled in record time.

And he had to carry it!

Grumbling the entire walk back to the car while you carried Nyx. She crashed about halfway between the shop and the exit. Snoring in your arms like she hadn’t slept a day in her life. Kylo drove you back to the house, helping you carry her out so she could sleep the rest of the afternoon.

You were alone, Kylo sequestered himself in the office again. Leaving you to figure out how to spend the time. You already masturbated in the bathroom, so the hot tub was the next best thing. Racing down the stairs in your bikini, you didn’t want Kylo finding you and repeating the performance from last night.

Grabbing a bottle of wine on the way out, you hugged your towel to your chest. You tiptoed outside, grateful for not shutting off the tub last night, it was just right. Your muscles relaxed the moment you slid in.

Filling your glass to the brim, drinking more than was recommended when sitting in a hot tub but who cared? Your child was asleep, so it was your time to relax. You turned your phone onto some chill music, basking in the overcast weather and jets ringing in your ears. You barely heard the sliding door open and close, or hear Kylo lean on the side of the tub until he cleared his throat.

“Having fun?”

“Fuck,” you whispered, “What are you doing?”

Kylo shrugged, moving to the railing and staring at the wilderness. You tried to not stare at him, becoming invested in your wine. Drinking so you wouldn’t have to speak to him, but Kylo didn’t seem to care.

“Are we going to talk about this morning?”

You sighed, “What’s there to talk about…”

He grunted, looking over his shoulder at you. You shrank into the bubbles, looking away from his eyes. Boring into you, “How about our daughter walking in on us sleeping together?”

“Um no,” you rolled your eyes, “She just saw you laying on me. We weren’t sleeping together.”

Kylo hummed, stalking over to the edge of the tub. He stared at the bubbles, his face unreadable as he studied them. You shifted towards him, keeping your body covered by the water, “What do you think happened this morning?”

“I think I came inside you.”

“Um-okay.”

His eyebrows shot up, “Is that not what happened? Would you like me to check?”

You blushed at that, turning away from him. “Did you come out here to be a shit or did you have a reason?”

Kylo shrugged, “Maybe both.”

You watched Kylo lean away from you, staring through the glass doors, “Is she still asleep?”

“Yeah,” he looked back at you, his face neutral but his eyes said something else. Kylo looked down in the water, looking at your barely covered breasts. You looked inside, moving towards him and sitting up on your knees. Your upper body out of the water, the cool air causing goosebumps to erupt. “What did you need, Kylo?”

He hummed, his hands coming around your torso, tugging at the knot at the back of your neck. The black cloth falling when it released, your breasts bouncing in his face. You watched Kylo lick his lips, palms skating down. He grasped both, squeezing roughly while he watched you. Each gasp that fell from your lips was met with Kylo nodding. Rubbing his palms against your stiff nipples.

Twisting his thumb and forefinger around them, “You’re so sensitive.”

You whimpered in his hold, arching your back to push harder into his hands. Kylo gladly accepted you, leaning forward to kiss at your neck. You melted into him, his plush lips sucking behind your ear while he palmed you.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, pulling a yelp.

“Quiet.”

“I’m trying,” you whispered, nudging his face away from you. You brought your hands to cup his cheeks, trying to press your lips together but Kylo dodged you.

Shaking his head, “No. That’s not what this is.”

You stared at him slackjawed while he tore off his clothes. Climbing into the tub with you, kissing at your temple as he fumbled with your bottoms. You clutched his shoulders, pulling yourself slightly out of the water so he could shimmy them down. Both of you hissed when he sunk a finger in your heat. Fucking it deep inside you, the water sloshing around you. You looked through the windows, looking out for your daughter and keeping your face away from his. That way he couldn’t see how wounded you were when he rejected you.

Kylo ripped his hand away, smacking your hip, “Turn around.”

“Why?” you whimpered, looking up at him with sad eyes.

He was fisting his cock under the water, clenching his jaw, “I don’t want to look at you, now flip over.”

You swallowed back tears that threatened to fall, leaning over the edge. Kylo grasped your hips, shoving his cock inside you without warning. You couldn’t stop the cry that rang out, met with his skin smacking against your own. The jets drowning out your tears while he fucked you.

“Why,” you hiccuped, “Why can’t you look at me?”

Kylo sped up his hips, wrapping a hand around your mouth instead of answering you. You snapped your eyes shut, trying to focus on the pleasure instead of the pain. Collapsing on the lip, Kylo let you fall. Continuing to fuck you, to drown out your whimpers.

You felt a pair of fingers circle your clit, bringing you to orgasm. Pulling whine after whine from your throat, even though you wanted to bury it. Wishing Kylo would hold you and kiss you, to love you like he used to.

But that was stupid.

Because he didn’t, instead you both pulled pleasure from one another. Drowning the ache in your heart each time you felt his hands caress you. Until you both finished, your chests heaving from exhaustion. You looked back at him, choking back sobs, he averted his eyes from you.

Climbing out despite your cries.

You tried to keep your voice a whisper, “I wish you would talk to me.”

“Is that what you want?”

Silence.

“You want me to talk to you? Or keep pretending that this is all okay? Huh?”

“Why does it matter? I know you want to be here Kylo! I know we matter to you or else you wouldn’t be here!”

“It doesn’t matter what you know (Y/N), what I feel is more important.”

“What's wrong with you?”

“All of it! All of this is wrong!”

Both of you stared at each other, standing on the deck naked.

And he left.

-------

BARF i love smut and angst and, no no i can't kiss you, fuckin pussy kylo

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

A Matter of Admiration Alpha Gang Orca x Omega f!Reader

Hello Hello! Here is my very VERY late submission for the SFW portion of Spudcorner's Valentine Blood and Chocolate Collab. This was meant to be a two page drabble. 13 pages later it's a bit more than that. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy!

Sequel/Epilogue Here

Content Warnings- Omegaverse, SFW, Insecurities, Misunderstandings, Pining, Fluff, Lots of food mentioned, Kugo being very down on himself, very minor mention of blood and stitches needed.

“Really? Again?”

The large alpha seemed to shrink under your judgemental glare.

“I am sorry, Y/N. The fight got intense and it slipped off. Someone must have stepped on it.”

You sighed heavily, your gaze turning to the workbench where the shattered remains of your creation sat. This was your seventh attempt at outfitting Gang Orca with a communicator headset. It was dangerous for him to keep fishing for a handheld during the heat of battle. Unfortunately, his lack of outer ear made keeping a headset on him difficult. Shaking your head, you gave a small smile.

“Not your fault, Sakamata. We knew this was going to be tricky. Though at this rate I’m tempted to just glue a headset on you and call it a day.”

Kugo snorted, his posture relaxing. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I hate to see your hard work go to waste.”

“It’s not a waste if I learn something from it. This one lasted a couple weeks of normal patrol work, so that’s an improvement. We just need to figure out what was different about this fight. So, sit. Talk.”

Kugo shook his head with an amused huff. He admitted he had been slightly dubious when you had first come to his agency. He’d encountered many hero support workers claiming to specialize in mutation quirks that seemed to be looking for lab rats for their creations. However, you always listened to what he said, and made suggestions that would actually make his job easier. You made sure your support items not only were functional, but comfortable at well. If the few years you had worked for him, he was pleased to say you had become good friends.

“I can’t right now, Y/N. I need to get cleaned up, then complete my report before I forget the details. I’ll come back first thing tomorrow.” You frowned, tapping your foot. Kugo fought to keep a neutral expression. You’d never forgive him if you knew how much he enjoyed your expressions when you were annoyed.

“Alright. Fine. First thing tomorrow. But make sure you get some rest tonight, you’ve been working too hard lately!”

Sakamata waved a hand in answer as he walked out the workshop door. He’d try to follow your request, but a hero’s work is never done.

~~~~~

Gang Orca shuffled through the door to his agency with an aura of gloom about him. In the past five days, he had broken five more communicators, gotten into several serious fights, and had allowed a villain to escape. And that was just his work life. Some of his friends had set him up for a speed dating session. He didn’t blame them for trying, but it ended exactly how he knew it would. Most of the omegas who had been present were scared of him, and those that weren’t were clearly only interested in his pro hero paycheck. Kugo trudged toward his office, his thoughts gloomy. A man with a quirk like his would never have a normal courtship. It hurt sometimes. How nice it would be to come home to a sweet smelling omega. What wouldn’t he give to home filled with pups, and laughter and love? He sighed softly as he swung his door open. Such a life was not meant for him, so no point in even dreaming. On autopilot, he hung his coat on the coat rack, and turned to set his briefcase on his desk. However, the desk was already occupied. Kugo tilted his head as he stared at the object resting on his desk. It appeared to be a large bento box, wrapped in a rather feminine handkerchief, patterned with some sort of flowers. Kugo set his briefcase down on a chair before coming closer to investigate. Gingerly, he untied the knot, setting the cloth aside as he looked at the contents curiously.

First and most obviously, was the strawberry shaped sticky note attached to the top. “You looked like you had been having a rough week. I hope this can make it better!” The writing was… painstakingly cute. The “i”s were dotted with little hearts. Each letter having just a little bit of flourish, while still being legible.

Kugo hummed quietly to himself. Clearly this had been left on his desk by mistake. A bit awkward, considering his name was on the door, but there was no other explanation. He drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered his options. He could take a guess at who the bento was for. There were several popular alpha heroes working for him that got their share of gifts from admirers. The soft omegan scent coming from the handkerchief that had wrapped the bento was a solid clue the gift was likely meant for one of them. But really, there was no way to tell for sure who it was supposed to end up with, and he really didn’t want the hard work to go to waste. Yes. Best thing would be to eat the bento, and place the box in the break room with a note inside the box apologizing.

His course of action decided, Kugo opened the bento, quietly sucking a breath as he saw what was inside. There were sausages cut to look like little octopi. A large slab of teriyaki salmon. Rice balls shaped like teddy bear heads, complete with little seaweed faces. He tried to tamp down his delight at seeing over half of the bento was dedicated to tamagoyaki. While he lived up to his stereotype of loving fish, the egg dish was a secret favorite of his; something his mother had made for him whenever he had a bad day when he was growing up. The second layer of the bento had even more. Rice, vegetables, and surprisingly a small but adorable piece of cake. Kugo put the bento back together with a small smile on his face. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him, but it had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy something like this- cute and homemade, clearly filled with a great deal of care. He couldn’t quite feel guilty as he looked forward to lunch. He could pretend, just this once, that a sweet smelling omega had put so much care into something for him.

~~~~~~

Later that day, when most of the day team had left, Kugo made his way to the common break room. He carefully cleaned out the bento box in the sink, setting it to the side to dry. He folded the handkerchief it had came in, and placed it next to the box before sighing. He was in the process of scribbling a brief apology note when he heard a cough. He glanced up to see y/n leaning against the doorway.

“You okay, chief? Thought your shift ended an hour ago.”

Kugo nodded as he placed his note on top of the handkerchief. “Yes, just had a few things I needed to wrap up. What about you? I know you were supposed to be done several hours ago now.”

You fidgeted, embarrassed, shrugging your shoulders as you glanced away. “Had an idea for how to improve a few items and, well, you know how I get when I have a project. But what have you got there? You never struck me as the homemade lunch type.”

It was Kugo’s turn to look uncomfortable as he shuffled from foot to foot. “It was left on my desk this morning by mistake. I had no way of knowing who it was actually meant for, and I didn’t want it going to waste, so I ate it.”

You frowned as you walked into the room, opening cupboards and starting to retrieve things to make tea. You held a mug up toward Kugo in a silent question, grabbing a second one when he nodded. You were quiet for a few moments, going through the motions. After a while you asked “How are you so sure it wasn’t for you?”

Kugo snorted, leaning back against the counter and gesturing at himself. “Omegas aren’t exactly lined up around the block. I don’t place high on the ‘heroes that look most like villains’ list every year for no reason. Some unfortunate omega got confused about whose office was whose. It’s a shame I couldn’t give it to whoever it was meant for, it was a beautifully crafted bento.” Kugo doesn’t mention the note. Kugo especially doesn’t mention the note had found its way into his desk drawer to save as a memory of how nice it had been to receive the bento, even if it was an accident.

You laughed, passing him a steaming cup of tea, made just how he liked. “Sakamata, don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re big, strong, and prime alpha material. You’re one of the top heroes! And even more importantly, you’re a gentle kind man that any omega would be lucky to have. I’d bet good money that that bento absolutely was made just for you.”

“A nice thought, but I doubt it. You’ll see. In a few days I bet a bento will make its way to who it was meant for.”

~~~~~~

Kugo stood stock still in the doorway to his office. Sitting on his desk was another cloth wrapped package. Once was a mistake, clearly. But two days in a row? Why on Earth was there another bento on his desk? He approached the desk and slide the bento to him. He untied the scented fabric with care. A cat shaped note greeted him.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear before, Sakamata. I wanted to make this for you because I admire you so much. I’m not always great at saying my feelings, so I hope my cooking says enough.”

This was… for him. The bentos… were for him? He sat in his chair, leaning his head against his hands as he regarded the innocent looking lunch. If it wasn’t a mistake, then what could it be? Probably a fortune hunting omega trying to get in his good graces, if he went off his past experience. Though usually those types of omegas were more likely to offer favors of a different sort. Kugo winced as another thought occurred to him. There was a good chance this omega pitied him. Ugly, intimidating, unmatable. Someone had seen him and decided he needed looking after because clearly he’d never get someone on his own. Yes. That had to be it. He should leave the bento in the break room and end this farce as soon as possible.

His mind made up, Kugo picked up the bundle to do exactly that. The subtle smell of the contents hit his sensitive nose, causing him to salivate. Tempura? Definitely egg. Well, it would be a shame to not even look inside to make sure.

Clearly just as much care had gone into this one as the last one. The rice balls were shaped like little cat heads, to match the note. An assortment of tempura seemed to be the main dish, cute cat shaped food picks stuck in some of them. There were even paw print shaped gummy candies for the dessert. Every inch of the lunch was absolutely adorable. And it was all done for him. There was no way Kugo could let it go to waste. It hurt to know it was a gift given out of pity, but maybe, just for a while, he could pretend there was someone out there who loved him like this. The omega would grow tired of this eventually. Until then, he’d let himself enjoy this.

~~~~~

It was surprising how easily this had become routine. Every day when Kugo walked into his office, there was a new bento waiting for him. And every day he’d unwrap the bento, indulging a brief moment in the cutely patterned handkerchiefs. Every bento was unique and cute. They seemed to show a good understanding of his tastes and preferences. It was a pleasant break on the quiet days and a welcome comfort on the rough days. Each day there was a sweet written note that Kugo gently stored in his desk drawer. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

~~~~~~~

Kugo hated attending charity events. It wasn’t the charities, he always supported good causes. It wasn’t the dressing up, or the fancy atmosphere. It was the people. While a few of his friends were around somewhere, there were many many others who didn’t know him well. Others who were intimidated by his appearance. Others who apparently had no idea just how sharp his hearing was.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Gang Orca is here.”

“I know! Well, I suppose he is a hero. Allegedly, anyway.”

“Did he come with anyone?”

“Of course not. I mean ew. Look at him. Can you imagine cosying up to that at the end of the day?”

“I know! And those teeth! If he tried to bond someone, he’d take their head clean off!”

“As if anyone would want to bond with that.”

“I don’t know. He’s in the top ten pretty often. He has to be loaded, right?”

“Would have to be a lot for me to even consider it.”

“It could be all the money and I still wouldn’t!”

“Oh don’t say that! Poor bastard can’t help he’s unmatable.”

Kugo walked away from the refreshment table as he tried to tune out the unkind comments and mocking laughter. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. He knew full well what he looked like. He had had enough failed courting attempts to know exactly what omegas thought of him. But it still stung. Stung more than usual, actually. The daily bentos with their scented cloths and cute little notes had almost made him forget. The only omegas who were interested either pitied him, or wanted his money. He could never forget that.

~~~~~

What he could forget, apparently, was that the number two pro hero was scheduled to be at his office the morning after the charity gala. Kugo stifled a sigh when he saw the red winged hero waiting outside his agency’s door. Of course he’d have to deal with this on a day when he wasn’t in the best of moods. “Orca! My man, good to see you again!”

Kugo nodded as he held the door open. “Hawks.”

“Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party last night. You know how it is. Go to one of those things when you're single, and you get swarmed.”

Kugo gave a non committal grunt. No, he didn’t know. He just wanted this morning to be over with. He perked up slightly as he saw you hurrying down the hallway toward them. Hawks gave a low whistle. “Who's the babe?” Kugo half growled. “That is Miss Y/N. The support item engineer you allegedly came here to see. You will be respectful and refrain from flirting with my staff.”

Keigo held up his hands and laughed. “Hey now big guy, don’t mean any offense. Just saying you’re lucky to get to work with that every day.”

Kugo jerked his head in an abbreviated nod. You slowed down your quick walk as you got closer, not wanting to interrupt the heroes’s conversation. Kugo waved you closer. You smiled at him so brightly as you joined the group. Yes. He was lucky to work with a friend such as you. Kugo’s nerves started to cool a bit as he introduced you and the three of you began to make your way to his office. Hawk’s casual questions were more inquisitive than flirty, and Kugo knew from long experience just how much you enjoyed being able to talk in depth about your work. He was smiling by the time he opened the door to his office, ushering the two or you in. Hawk’s next words hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face.

“Dang! Either you got one hell of a cafeteria service at this agency, or Gang Orca has himself quite an admirer. Delivered right to your desk, pretty bold, man! That’s exactly why I keep my door locked. There’s only so much lunch a man can eat, am I right?”

The bento. He had forgotten about the stupid bento. There it sat, as always. The handkerchief was especially cute today, some sort of pattern with teddy bears hugging and kissing. Any other day, the sight would have calmed him. Any other day he would have sat down and quickly poked through to see what surprises lay inside that day, would have read the note meant just for him with a smile.

But today was different. Others were in his office. The number two hero, handsome and popular. His support engineer, pretty enough to probably have plenty of suitors of her own. And then there was him. Large. Scary. Consistently told he looks like a villain. Has never had a relationship that wasn’t pitying or profiteering. Kugo remembered the whispered remarks from the party. Usually he’d be able to brush off Hawks’s commentary. But today…

Kugo snarled, his scent agitated as he swept his arm across the desk, knocking the bento roughly into the trash. “They are a nuisance that need to cease! I’m so tired of some desperate piting omega shoving their unwanted, unneeded efforts at me! Enough is enough!” At the end his voice was raised to a shout. He was dimly aware of his nails digging deeply into his palms. Kugo leaned on the desk, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. He could hear the others shuffling behind him awkwardly.

“Come on,” You murmured and lightly tugged on Keigo’s sleeve. “How about I show you my lab and take some measurements before we get started.”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah.” Keigo allowed you to lead him away. You softly closed the door behind you. Kugo remained, hunched and breathing raggedly. It took him several minutes to calm down. It took him a few minutes beyond that to gather the nerve to make the trek down to the support lab. He slipped into the room as inconspicously as a man with his fram could manage. You were taking measurements off of Keigo and muttering to yourself as you tapped out notes on your tablet. Keigo noticed Kugo’s entrance and greeted him cautiously. “You good?” Kugo nodded. “I… apologize. It’s been a rather trying week, but I should have composed myself better.”

Keigo waved him off. “No worries, man, no worries. Y/n was just telling me she thinks that she’ll be able to rig up something for me that would help slow my fall in situations where my wings get damaged.”

You hummed an affirmative, taking a few more measurements before you started describing your process. Kugo couldn’t help but notice you didn’t look his way. You looked at the ground, at your tablet, at Keigo, but you were clearly avoiding Kugo’s gaze. He mentally winced as he settled onto an out of the way stool. It was rare for him to have that kind of emotional outburst. It probably could be heard even from outside his office. He’d make sure to apologize to you better when he got the chance. But for now, it was looking like it would be a long, awkward day. Goodie.

~~~~~

Kugo growled under his breath the next morning when he saw the cloth wrapped bundle sitting on his desk. Yesterday’s embarrassment was still fresh in his mind as he stalked forward. His thick fingers quickly untied the surprisingly unpatterned piece of fabric. There, under the cloth, on top of the box, was a note as there always was. Kugo’s anger was cooled by confusion when he saw it, however. The paper was a plain yellow post-it note. Instead of the painstakingly cute handwriting with the heart dotted “i’s, there was a clearly hasty scrawl.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to annoy you. This will be the last one.”

Kugo frowned, shifting in his seat. Clearly the bento maker had heard about his outburst from yesterday. That was… unfortunate. But perhaps for the best, since he had no way of directly telling them to cease their nonsense. Unconsciously, his hand balled up the handkerchief and as he had been doing for a while, he scented it.

The cloth had a slight smell of salt to it. Tears, Kugo realized uncomfortably. The smell of tears slightly diluted the normal soothing smell of whoever had carefully packaged these bentos. He had little appetite as he looked over what was there. Tempura. Salmon. Vegetables. A large portion of tamagoyaki. But the part that caused an uncomfortable weight to settle in his chest was the little red box, filled with slightly clumsy, clearly homemade chocolates. Kugo closed his eyes, sighing as he set the box to the side to wait for lunch. This was good. This was what he wanted, to be left alone instead of some kind hearted omega taking pity on him. He had lived a long time without homemade bentos and little notes. He certainly didn’t want the small offering of chocolates. When lunchtime came, he certainly didn’t linger over the food longer than usual, savoring each bite. He tried to tell himself that this was for the best. That this was what he wanted. He refused to think about why he tucked the handkerchief and the box of chocolates into his desk drawer instead of leaving them in the break room as usual.

The next day as Kugo opened his office door, he looked toward his desk out of habit; searching for the lunch that had been left. His chest gave an uncomfortable lurch when he found the desk was bare. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. This was fine. This was what he wanted. The sooner he forgot about all this nonsense, the sooner things would return to normal. He settled into his chair and began sifting through the paperwork he had to deal with. No better way to take his mind off his troubling thoughts and distract the whine of his inner alpha. He was certain. Things would be back to normal soon.

Two weeks later, Kugo listlessly picked at the limp lettuce of the poor excuse of a salad that he had picked up at a convenience store. He sighed, putting the lid back on the barely touched meal resolving to throw it away when he next passed a garbage can. He didn’t like to admit it, but he missed the carefully planned meals. Wondering what cute surprise was going to be next. It was nice that someone thought he might enjoy seeing animal shaped onigiri and cheesecake flavored kit kats. His alpha whimpered when he thought about the contented omega scent that gently perfumed every handkerchief, except the last. But just as the note had said, he had received nothing since that last bento. His thoughts remained gloomy as he entered the agency, quickly making his way into his office, locking the door behind him. He knew better than to hope as he looked towards his desk. Bare, once again. Sighing heavily, he slumped into his chair. He gently pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. Carefully nestled into it was the cleaned, empty bento box from the last meal, the small box of dwindling homemade chocolates, and that last precious handkerchief.

Kugo carefully removed the handkerchief. He brought the cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply. Stabbing pain shot through him as he realized the scent was barely there anymore. The faint scent of tears almost completely overpowering the last lingering trace of distressed omega. His hands clutched the fabric tightly, squeezing until he realized the stress he was putting on the fabric. He quickly placed it on the desk and tried in vain to smooth out the wrinkles. After a minute of fussing, he gently refolded it and placed it back in the drawer. Kugo stared at the contents, unblinking before slowly sliding the drawer closed. It was almost gone. Everything was almost gone. And he didn’t know how to get it back.

With a low growl, Kugo pushed himself up. Today was a rare day where he hoped for trouble on his patrol. A fight would certainly take his mind off things, and just maybe calm the whining alpha that echoed throughout his entire being.

~~~~

He really needed to be careful what he wished for. Kugo winced as he limped toward the support lab. He had gotten a fight alright. He had gotten three fights, a twisted ankle, and a once again smashed communication headset. It wasn’t his fault that he had gotten thrown backwards into a rather solid concrete wall. Y/N was going to kill him.

Kugo pushed the lab door open, stepping inside. His forehead creased in worry. The lab felt off. Wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately place a finger finger on. Well, he’d have to think about it later, he decided as he made his way to where you were sitting. You were at your workbench, tapping your pen on the table and staring at nothing when he settled down on the stool next to you. You glanced over as Kugo sat down, did a double take and let out a small noise of surprise.

“Sakamata! What happened to you?”

The large man shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “The usual. Villain didn’t behave exactly how I thought, and I paid for not being vigilant enough. Nothing too bad. Twisted ankle and roughed up a little. Unfortunately though…”

Sheepishly as a scolded schoolboy, Kugo pulled the shattered remains of his latest communicator out of his pocket and placed them on the workbench.

“Kugo!”

He couldn’t help but smile. He loved the times when you got worked up enough to call him by his first name. He watched as you gingerly sifted through the sad shattered remains.

“What did you do, hit it with a rock?!”

“Concrete wall, actually.”

You stilled before turning to look at Kugo, sharp and suspicious. “And I assume you were wearing it at the time?”

Kugo had the decency to look embarrassed as he nodded. Suddenly he was being fussed over, gentle hands touching his face and turning his head this way and that. An exclamation and curse left you when you found a large, sluggishly bleeding gash on the back of Kugo’s head.

“You! You Alpha!” You huffed as you started digging through the pockets of your lab coat. Kugo got a brief glimpse of colored fabric before the handkerchief was softly dabbing at his wound. Kugo hissed, only half listening as the scolding continued about how knot headed alphas needed to learn to go to the medical ward first before worrying about stupid replacable tech. He was brought back to the present when a hand, so much smaller than his own, grabbed his hand. You easily maneuvered him so that Kugo was now firmly holding the handkerchief over the cut. You hummed, satisfied for now.

“Now Sakamata, please hold that there until you can get medical to look at it. Doubt a hard headed man like you has a concussion, but might need stitches. I’m not exactly an expert. Don’t worry about the headset. I should be able to get a new one to you before my replacement takes over. And if not, I’ll be leaving some blueprints behind anyway.”

What?

“Replacement?”

You stilled, looking away from him. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just… I never found the right time to tell you.” You fidgeted, rubbing your thumb over your knuckles. “I’m going to be going to America soon. I’ve gotten a good offer to work with a few heroes over there that need someone specialized in mutation supports. It would do a lot to boost my career…”

Kugo reached out, grabbing your hand, and stopping your nervous motions. He tried to find words in his stalling brain. “This is really sudden, Y/N.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He gently shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. “Not scolding you. Just, is everything alright? Is something going on?”

You pulled away, digging your hands into your hair with a sigh. “You know me too well.”

Kugo gave half a smile. “I would hope so. I like to think we’re friends. Is there anything I can do? Are you in trouble in some way?”

You shook your head. “No. No, nothing like that. It’s kind of embarrassing. Just… A courtship that really didn’t turn out well. And I just… I could really use some time away to get my head back on straight. Eagle Pride’s office has mentioned wanting me to go over and collaborate with them for a while, and what better time than now?” Your laugh sounded bitter.

Kugo sat silent and stunned. He hadn’t known you were courting. Being courted? Honestly, he wasn’t even sure of your dynamic. If you weren’t beta, then you certainly hid your scent well. He cleared his throat before speaking hesitantly.

“I certainly won’t stop you if you truly wish to go. It is an excellent opportunity. Might be a step in having your own support company if you wish. And if not, you’re always welcome here, Y/n. You must know that.”

You give a small smile, finally looking him in the eye. His chest tightened when he saw tears there. “I know, Kugo. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’re a good friend for putting up with me.”

“There’s no putting up with. I enjoy your company, always.” Kugo reached out slowly, but you turned away and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. He frowned, placing his hand back in his lap. “And you sure you’re alright, Y/N? No one is threatening you, are they? Someone unsafe taken an interest in you?”

You snorted, “Nothing like that. And people think I’m the dramatic one. No. I just got rejected is all. I miscalculated. Thought they were interested, but they made it very clear they aren’t.”

“Then they’re an idiot.” The words escaped Kugo before he even realized what he was going to say. But it was true, he was sure. You were beautiful, kind, smart. Anyone would be beyond lucky to hold your interest. On the rare days he allowed himself to dream, he often thought he’d love to have someone like you as a mate. Someone who knew him well and cared for him as much as he cared for them. He felt pains in his chest and his eyes widened as realization hit him in the face like a wet mackerel. Oh. He was jealous. He was jealous of whoever it was that y/n had tried to court. And he was angry. Furious that some fool had rejected her. Hurt her. But he was glad she was still here. Yet she was going to leave. Going to leave him here alone. His thoughts swirled and tumbled, and he swayed slightly in his seat. And hand on his shoulder stilled him and he looked up into your concerned eyes.

“Hey, you’re not looking too good. You really should get to medical. Do you need me to help you?”

“No. No. I can make it down a few hallways, thank you though.”

Kugo stood, and tried to give back the cloth he had been pressing to his head. You pushed it back, gently scolding him. “I said leave it there until someone can look at it. If you insist on returning a silly old rag, you can wash it and give it back later.”

Kugo nodded and mumbled out a goodbye. He had a lot to think about as he slowly made his way to medical. So. He liked you. The more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed to him. He’d liked you for a while. Things were always easy with you. But now, you’re leaving. He couldn’t stop you, and wouldn’t even if he could. You clearly felt like you needed to go.

He was still ruminating on his thoughts as the doctor ushered him to a bed. He was poked and prodded. Kugo managed to mumble out what must have been coherent answers. In the end, he did end up needing a few stitches. And just like that, he found himself fixed up and back in his office. He snorted a laugh at the absurdity. How can a day like this somehow manage to be just another day? Kugo sat in his chair and twisted the cloth in his hands absently. He brought it to his nose and sniffed out of habit. Oh course, the scent of his own blood was the most dominant. But underneath that was the usual calming scent of omega. His shoulders relaxed as the tension ran out of him. He pulled that cloth away, idly looking at the pattern. It was cute. Floral. Reminded him of the cloth that the first bento had been…

Wait.

He hastily brought the handkerchief to his nose again. There was no mistaking it. He knew that smell. He had missed that smell for weeks. It was faint. But it absolutely was there. Omega, soft and sweet. Not any omega. His omega. His bento maker. His y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n who had seen him toss her courting gift in the trash, who thought he had completely rejected her, and who was moving to America.

Kugo was on his feet in an instant. He’d never made the trip to the support lab that quickly before. You jumped when the door flew open, hitting so harshly that the doorknob dented the wall.

“Sakamata! What?”

He dropped to his knees before you, arms wrapped tight around your waist and his head pressing against your stomach.

“Kugo?” You asked softly, hesitantly stroking along his fin. “Kugo, what’s wrong?”

“You’re the best thing life has ever given me. Please don’t leave. Please.”

You made a soft, wounded sound. You kneeled slowly, and took his face in your hands. Kugo leaned into your touch like a man who had been starved of affection his whole life. You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Kugo, I’m going to need you to speak plainly, so I’m sure I don’t misunderstand. What’s going on?”

His large hands came up, taking both your hands in his.

“I’m an idiot.”

You snorted and tilted your head, confused. He met your gaze as he continued.

“I’m an idiot and I love you.”

You inhaled sharply, looking at him in disbelief. He pulled the crumpled, bloodstained handkerchief from his pocket.

“I’m an idiot because I love you and yet I never even noticed that you loved me too. You showed me every day. You knew I like eggs just as much as fish. You cared enough to make them cute. You gave me extra sweets on days when I was working a double shift. I loved every bento you made me. I have every note saved. And I might be an idiot, but I’d be an even bigger idiot if I let you go without saying something. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I love you and please don’t go.”

“Kugo.” You smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I already promised I’d go.”

Kugo inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes lowering to the floor.

“But,” you used your hands to lift his chin. His gaze snapped back to yours. “It’s just for six months. Six months, and then I’ll be right back here. With you.”

“With me?”

“Mmhmm.” You gave his nose a quick peck. “Always. You’re the best man I know. I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world for me.”

Kugo groaned and pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. From here, although it was very faint, he could smell your soothing scent. “You can’t say things like that and then tell me I can’t have you here for six months!”

You chuckled as you hugged him close. “Well, we have two weeks before I leave. We have a little time. And once I’m back? We’ll have all the time in the world.”

“Even that won’t be enough time to spend with you.”

“Dork.”

He hummed his agreement. “But it’s true. Eternity would be enough time to spend with you.” Before you could protest, he pulled you in for a gentle, but determined kiss.

#gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo sakamata x reader #Alpha gang orca #Alpha kugo #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #reader insert #bnha reader insert #female reader #omega reader #omegaverse reader insert #collab piece

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notbleachtea · 3 years

Text

Favorite Shirt

Okay time to post again. Slight warnings, mention of death, toxic relationship, slight emotional abuse.

Word count ~2.9k

"Tch, I guess it’s about time I clean my desk. I can't work with all of this crap on it." Jotaro annoyedly says.

While cleaning off the countless stacks of paper he pauses. All desire to clean is quickly knocked out of him. He sits back down in his desk chair holding the group picture you all took in Egypt. He glances over each face in the image, some happy memories, some not so much. He would give anything to go back in time to change the way things played out. So many stupid mistakes. His eyes immediately halt when he gets to yours. His face expressed sorrow and longing.

His favorite memories of the two of you start to come rushing back to his head, and for a moment, he smiles. The constant flirting that always occured between the two of you. The silent stares you each felt from one another. No matter how much the others teased you two, you still weren't sure if admitting your feelings was the best idea. You each had your own reasons for keeping distant. The mission was much more important anyway, and so was your friendship.

He recalls one of his favorite memories with you.

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

It had been a long week of tiresome stand battles, the closer you got to Egypt, the more intense they became. He noticed this was taking quite the toll on you and made the gang find a hotel that night so you could get some much needed rest. In the meantime he suggested that you use him as a pillow in the car on the way there.

Honestly, you took him up on the offer. You took everything you could at the time knowing that it would never go any further no matter how bad you wanted it to. Your head rested on his large chest, which was surprisingly soft for how tough he was. Every now and then he'd tug on his hat to cover his face when in fact he was just trying to steal a few glances at your peaceful, resting figure.

"Alright, we're here, group up and we'll get going into our rooms," Joseph states.

"I ca-"

"She's staying with me. There's no discussing it." Jotaro then picks you up and carries you to your room.

You started to wake up from the movements and the background noise going on in the hotel, and the first thing you saw was Jotaro's face when you opened your

eyes.

"Clearly I must be dreaming," you thought.

"Look who decided to wake up." he scoffed at you. "Really left it up to me to carry you all the way up here."

"I'm so sorry! I won't let it-"

"That's enough. I was just kidding anyway. You fought really hard today, it's the least I could do."

You smiled back at him as he set you down on the bed. That was honestly all the thanks he needed.

"Anyway, I'm going to go get something to eat, I'll bring something back for you if you want, but you should probably get some real rest soon."

You began to crawl up into the bed in your dirty and torn clothes from the day you just had.

"Good grief, what do you think you're doing? You're really going to sleep in a nice clean bed in your dirty clothes??"

"Well, I don't really have any clean clothes left right now, so, unless you have a better ide-"

You were quickly cut off with a soft hit to the face. Jotaro threw one of his clean shirts at you.

"Here. You can use this. It'll be more comfortable anyway."

Jotaro had left to go pick up some food and when he came back he was greeted with his favorite shirt filled with his favorite person. Wearing only that shirt made you look much smaller than you actually were, it practically went down to your knees.

"Thanks Jotaro! I promise I'll get it back to you as soon as I can."

"Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." He cooly tried to say as he pulled his hat down over his eyes.

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

After everything that had happened in Egypt, you just wanted to get away from it all for a while. Go out on your own to a new place with no reminder of the loved ones you lost and all the feelings you never acted on. As a thank you for your hard work, the SpeedWagon Foundation offered to pay for everything of whatever you decided to do. You thought maybe you'd try going to school in America for a while. It was great, you had all the experiences you grew up seeing in movies and on TV. You made plenty of new friends there and even dipped your toes in the dating pool.

Right after you finished school, you and your boyfriend got married. You thought that's what you ought to do, you've been with him for so long. Everyone thought you were the perfect couple. He always took you out on extravagant dates and bought you expensive jewelry. Every girl wanted to be you. But that was only because they didn't know what happened behind closed doors. He never physically hurt you, not many people could, I mean you could hold your

own in Egypt, you're pretty tough, but mentally, he knew you were weak. You would confide in him in the beginning of your relationship about all your friends back home that you missed. He never let you call home or talk to them either. The ones you could never see again. Everytime he wanted you to hurt he would just remind you that they were dead because you weren't there for them, you weren't strong enough to save them. Countless letters came in from your friends and family and he'd throw them away before you could see them. He would even tell you that no one was writing to you anymore.

Every now and then you manage to chat with Jotaro. He'd call you on your lunch break at work from time to time just to play catch up. Asking things like 'how's life?' and 'are you doing okay?' and the sort of thing. Everytime you told him you were doing great. You love your husband and you even try to brag about how well he treats you by describing all the luxurious gifts he's been buying you. Everytime Jotaro ended the call saying he was happy for you and then a

quick update on his life.

To be honest, Jotaro wasn't falling for your phone calls. He knew something was wrong, but he never knew how bad it really was. He thought it was strange that you never wrote to him or called him outside of your work hours. It was also strange how you never really went into depth about your personal life either.

One fateful day, you're having a routine call with Jotaro when your husband decided to stop by to take you out to lunch. He asked the secretary why your door was closed to which she simply responded, "Oh, she's talking to her childhood friend Jotaro! He usually calls about this time every week."

He walks into your office catching you off guard while you're still on the phone. The shock alone causes you to drop the phone with a quiet screech.

"Y/n, are you there?" Jotaro stays on the line worried about what he just heard.

Your husband shuts your office door leaving just the two of you in there and is yelling just loud enough to where your coworkers can't hear him.

"I thought I told you no one wanted to talk to you anymore? They're all fed up with you, can't believe you let your friends die back in Egypt. They'll never

forgive you for that."

"You're right I'm sorry just please don't do this here."

"What makes you think you can tell *me* what to do? That's not how this works. And who gave you permission to talk to other guys? There's going to be some serious consequences for this when you come home." He walks out of your office smiling at all of your coworkers like nothing had just happened, followed by a shut of your office door and your muffled cries.

"Y/n?? Are you still there? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"Wh- what did you hear?" You managed to squeak out, choking back tears.

"I heard enough y/n, he's not a good guy. I knew something was wrong. We have to get you out of there."

"No. This is my life now. I don't need your help, I told you I'm perfectly fine."

"Y/n I'm not kidding, you have to get out of there *now* and I won't take no for an answer."

"I can't, okay! I have nowhere to go. No one would believe me if I said the things he's done to me. Anyone who I try to run to just rats me out to him and the situation gets worse."

"Y/n, go pack your most essential things while he's out of the house. I'm buying you a ticket home for tonight. You'll be safe here this time tomorrow."

The instant care Jotaro had just shown you only causes you to cry more. How could you let yourself get like this? You really weren't okay. You were just too headstrong to admit anything was wrong.

"Thank you." You were able to muster through even more tears.

After picking yourself up off the floor and drying your face, you left your office, no intention to come back. You rushed home to grab only your essential items while your husband was finishing his day at work. You grabbed a few sets of clothing, your toothbrush, hair and makeup accessories, a few pairs of shoes, and your folder of important documents. Everything else was replaceable and or retrievable at a later date.

You take a deep breath and get the courage to call a ride to the airport.

Free from your husband's control, you weren't scared to text or call Jotaro on your own phone now. You called him letting him know that you were on your way.

One short plane ride across the ocean later and Jotaro was waiting there for you to take you home. You're not sure how long he was there for but you're convinced he was waiting there since before you even took off.

"Y/n, over here." He waves you over.

You walk over shyly and ashamed of what he had witnessed just the day before. You couldn't even pick your head up enough to look him in the eyes.

"Y/n it's okay now. You're here with me, he can't get to you right now."

"Ye- yeah I guess you're right. So where do I go now?"

"C'mon, I'll take you back to my place."

"We're stopping there before the hotel?"

"I'm not letting you stay alone right now. You're staying with me at my house. The only reason I let you fly alone was because it got you out of there faster."

Jotaro takes your bag and you both head to the taxi.

"C'mon short stuff, get those legs movin' faster."

"Hey! Not everyone can be freakishly tall."

Jotaro raises one eyebrow, "So I'm a freak, aye?"

"Sorr-"

"Don't apologize, you're already more vocal when you're free around here. I like it."

The taxi drops you two off at his house. The drive felt like an eternity when in reality it was only a few short minutes. You stared out the car door window in awe.

*So this is what he's been up to this whole time*

"Well c'mon now, let's get inside."

You quickly follow after him like a lost puppy.

"There's a spare bedroom upstairs and down the hall, why don't you take this time to relax and freshen up while I make us something to eat?"

"You really don't have to do this for me Jotaro, but I appreciate it."

You head upstairs with your bag. It really was a long flight. You decide to take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes.

About an hour goes by when Jotaro comes by your room to collect you.

"Dinners ready y/n."

"Okay, I'll be right out, I just have to put some makeup on first."

"Uhh, what for? We're not going out anywhere."

"I don't know. I just always do. He always made me wear makeup, even at the house, I guess I'm just used to it."

Jotaro quickly turns around and starts heading towards the kitchen, but not without leaving a remark, "well don't. You look better without it anyway."

You follow soon after him with a fresh blank face. The table has already been set beautifully and you can already smell your favorite dish. He brings over two plates of food followed by a new bottle of wine.

"Why don't we catch up for real this time?" He asks.

Hours go by at the dinner table along with a few bottles of wine. The two of you bickering just like the old days. You missed this. You needed this.

You finally caught a glimpse of the time and stood up to help clean up the table.

"You don't need to help clean this up y/n. We can even clean it up tomorrow. Why don't we go talk in the living room for a bit longer?"

You move forward as an attempt to get to the couch, finally realizing how much you actually drank, you're quite tipsy in fact. Jotaro moves over to the couch to join you. Sitting side by side he grabs your hand with a guilty look on his face.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry this happened to you. It's all my fault."

Clearly he's a bit tipsy too if he's actually trying to admit being at fault right now.

"None of this is your fault Jotaro, what are you going on about?"

"If I was just straight with you when we were younger. If I actually had the courage to say something to you. Maybe you would have stayed. Maybe you would've ended up with me instead. Instead I thought you were too good for me."

Your eyes start to swell up. "Don't say that. Ever. I'm the one that's not good enough for you. Why would you ever want someone like me?"

"Well, you're you, that's why. You're strong, you held your own in the desert, you tried your hardest for us and you made it out. I've never met anyone as strong as you, and to know that someone took advantage of you? And I wasn't there to protect you? I'm so sorry for all of it."

Now full on ugly crying again, Jotaro wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry Jotaro. Can you forgive me?"

He lifts up your crying head by your chin and brushes all your loose pieces of hair out of your face. He holds you here until you return the look into his deep aqua eyes. He moves forward, crashing his lips into yours. There was no hesitation on your end, you kissed him back just as hungrily. Neither of you needed words to figure out what the other one was thinking. You could feel the admittance of your love for each other from just that embrace. Jotaro pulls back and pushes your head into his chest so he can hold you once again. He pats your head.

"It's all okay now, I'm sorry it took this long," and he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

The moment is only ended by your yawning since you've been up for lord knows how long. Jotaro picks you up and carries you in his arms to his room. He notices the slight confusion in your face.

"I was thinking maybe you sleep in here with me tonight, kinda like old times?"

"Okay, just let me go change into my pajamas. I don't want to get in the nice clean bed in my dirty clothes.".

You walk back into his room in just his old t-shirt you kept from the desert.

"You really kept that old thing?" He spouted.

"I really did. It's how I kept you close that whole time I was gone." You said with an embarrassed smile.

"It really does look better on you ya know?" He says through a full face of blush. Just seeing you again in that shirt made him think of all the things he wanted to do to you now and then.

You moved to go lay down alongside Jotaro in his massive bed. He always wanted to know what it'd be like to hold you in his arms in his own bed.

Jotaro pulls you into his chest to hold you tight, with no intention of letting you go. He places a delicate kiss on your cheek. You squeeze his hand as a subtle sign of acceptance and nuzzle into his broad figure.

“Goodnight y/n. Sleep tight.”

#jotaro kujo #jojo #jjba x reader #jjba #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #jojo jotaro #jojosbizzareadventure #jjba pt 3

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tubbral · 2 years

Text

my ghost!tubbo break down, analysis.

i chose very specific things when designing him, because i really, really loved this idea. so much went through my mind because i had many ideas that i wanted to put into his character at first, and i ended up rewriting lots of things. but i wanted to start with appearance first!

gubbos appearance.

so while yes my tubbo has always had many modifications to him vs his already canon design, even more went into what i wanted him to represent.

gubbos entire personality is supposed to be a manifestation of not only what people wanted him to be, but also what he lacked in experience. tubbo has had zero catharsis through out his trauma, only repression in order to forgive those he’s been hurt by. by doing so, he’s never realized his own mistakes. like the people he’s harmed through not ever sticking up for himself, or having no sensitivity towards them.

so that’s why i chose white purposefully as his sweater, it usually represents purity or something being complete. put together, this is something that gubbo is not. gubbo is part of tubbo that is like a torn away puzzle piece of his physical body, nor is he pure.

next was his fully grown horns and hair! both representing very similar things. fully grown, large ram horns represent power and strength. long hair on the other hand, while similar, is much more deeper. long hair is something thousands of different meanings everywhere, not one in the same. but a common interpretation is that it represents that of strength as well on a much more personal level. these are two things again, things people wanted tubbo to encompass but never could. as well as it also means signs of maturity, age, and stoicism. tubbo was to young to have these things, but tried anyways. of course, they all just warped his sense of self more, therefore creating gubbo.

a little tidbit before i end this segment is that the amount of hair gubbo has is meant to show how much hair tubbo has lost. tubbo has shaved his head, cut his hair, and lost it from explosions dozens of times in my headcanons. because he is ram, his hair is thick and grows back quickly. this is why i draw gubbo with these physical traits.

personality

i’m sure it’s crossed a few minds why gubbo is so mean. he’s literally yelled at his father while drunk and crying, why is that? he’s cruel, cold, and very disconnected from what’s happening. again, it’s representation for how tubbo has tried to become frozen over time. sense the explosions, in many places of his body he has gone mostly numb. he has little feeling in his the sides of his face, his hands, and chest. this helps him deal with the cold so well, but begins to freeze him in a way. metaphorically, he can never tell if has frostbite til he’d have to cut a limb off.

gubbo only has the negative memories of tubbo, he doesn’t remember schlatt becoming better. he remembers the horrible things tommy has said to him, ranboo leaving, and other things. while some range to just things that’s stressed him, others relate to full fledge things tubbo is actively trying to force himself to forget. thus causing not only the cold motif, repressed memories, and the manifestation of what others expect of him creating a very callous, cruel and sad ghost.

one that doesn’t want to rely on others, be seen as weak, and most certainly doesn’t want to forgive and forget like tubbo.

cold-motif

now before i end this here, i wanted to quickly talk about gubbos cold-motif. it makes sense because of snowchester and how it’s caused him to have this build up to create his ghost personification like this, but it’s seen constantly through out his movements.

whether it be slightly touching something and it freezes, walking into a room. it appears that gubbo is frozen to the touch. as well that his skin seems to hide any scars, in an act of trying to hide the pain that it’s caused him in a tubbo-like way. creating him as a clean slate, back to the purity metaphor. however, a fun thing about him as that he can’t even touch snow. it would hurt him as it’s still made from water, melting him. find that his body is freezing all the time, and can never stop unless he wants to melt. almost as if, they are like walls of protection. again, this is another metaphor of his character.

i think this is all i have to write, but if i have any updates, an extension of detail, i will certainly write more. if you’ve read all of this, thank you! have a good night/day.

#gubbo #pollen #ghost!tubbo #ooc #character analysis #analysis #long post

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ditttiii · 4 years

Text

Kintsugi. | 0t7 (m) || 02 |

◈ Hybrid AU || Ot7 x Reader

◈ Summary: Life is neither fair nor what you had dreamed that it would be, but the hand that fate had dealt them was worse than yours.

When you get a chance to adopt seven hybrids, all a little rough around the edges, do you take it? Will this last-ditch attempt at doing something right, end with you buried six feet under the ground or will it finally give you the family that you have always secretly hoped for?

◈ Genre: eventual romance || hurt/comfort || angst (with a happy ending) || eventual smut || will in due course dive into discussions of abuse, however nothing too gruesome.

◈ Chapter Two

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Language, mild panic attack(sfw)

◈ Masterlist (all available chapters will exclusively be linked here only.)

Moodboard By: @today-we-will-survive ❤

You think they see you standing, because they pause, their steps halting near the entrance. The ones at the back, who had their heads tipped low and gazes locked to the floor, end up bumping into the ones at the front, soft curses disrupting the eerie quietness of the room.

Your feet are rooted to the floor, hands cold and trembling inside the pockets of your hoodie.

The man doesn't take note of their shyness, or is it hesitance? You don't know yet, but he moves ahead, only stopping once he reaches the side of the table.

Opening the file he had tucked under his arm, he starts rifling through it, not saying a word to either you or them, and the uncomfortable silence stretches on.

Knowing what you do, acknowledging what's going to come ahead, you shouldn't be so hesitant to break the silence, to make the first move, but you are. Heart thudding painfully against your ribcage, your pulse picks up, your cold, numb hands growing sweatier and icier.

You try to gulp, clear your throat, but it's like your muscles have grown numb too, not following your command, mouth so dry you don't have any spit left to gulp.

Dipping your head, you watch from in between your strands as they all huddle closer. Two of them from the back are crowding closer than others, their hands wrapped around each other, and the sight of them together, so afraid, so timid has something—somewhere, inside of your chest clenching .

Their figures cloaked under large white hoodies and loose white slacks, which even from a distance you can tell are paper-thin. The silhouette of their gangly limbs visible under the harsh, unforgiving whiteness that bathed the entire room.

Your gaze travels to the man who is still rifling through the papers, and you wonder if he is pretending or if he genuinely has a document in there that he is desperate to find. Judging by the meagre few pages inside the file, you have a feeling it's the former.

Seeing the lack of progress, one of them takes it upon himself to be the brave one in the room and steps forward.

The tall figure moves forward, his gait unsure—wavering, but he marches on, only pausing briefly to look at you before he bows his head low towards you. Figure not rising until you let out a soft, distressed sound.

Only once you mumble out a soft, "please sit," does he take a seat, perching himself at the very edge of the middle chair, head still bowed low as his figure hunches in on itself.

The sight has the back of your throat closing in, and you bite back a sob.

The tall figure of the man sits on the cold, uncomfortable metal chair, back ramrod straight but shoulders pushed low, as though his instincts were warring with his resolve to act respectfully

The taste on your tongue is bitter when you realise just what exactly is considered respectful in their eyes.

Encouraged by his action, slowly all of them trudge closer, their pace no less unwilling, and you wonder if it's hesitance or something else entirely. You see how one of them has his hands clenched so hard against the side of his slacks that his knuckles have turned white.

Pausing in front of a chair each, they all move to bow, and you squawk out your previous request. Even though you had given your permission already, the six men in front of you still bow low, figures staying curved for a few seconds, as they give you the respect you apparently deserve, before they all move to take a seat.

The sound of metal chairs sliding against the tiles rings sharply in the room, and you see more than one of them flinching in response to the harsh noise.

You wonder if what you are doing right now is okay. Whether or not this futile last-ditch attempt at being a better person will change anything—do any good at all.

And maybe it won't, but you also know you can't turn back now; you'd never forgive yourself if you did.

Sucking a deep breath in, you move to take the lone chair that faces the seven men, from the other side of the table. Eyes capturing the way their postures tense further as the distance between you and them shrinks.

Lifting the chair a little, instead of sliding it back to prevent making that god awful screech, you hesitantly take a seat opposite the seven cloaked figures. The hoods still pulled low over their heads reveal not a glimpse of any of their faces.

Registering your movement, the man finally deems you worthy of his attention, and with a snap, the file in his hands snaps close. He slides it across the surface of the table, and you bring a hand down to stop it from slipping off to the floor.

Eyes locking with yours, he nods, and with a muttered, "You have thirty minutes," he walks out the door.

The only sound that you can hear is the tick of the lone clock that hangs on the wall opposite you, and you internally start a countdown for the next thirty minutes.

Gaze jumping from one figure to another, you part your lips to say something, anything, but come up short.

Wetting your lips with a swipe of your tongue, you finally rasp out an introduction, "Hey... I am y/n."

Your voice comes out soft and a little too quiet, but in the constricting silence of the room, it still sounds loud to you.

Their heads tip forward, but no words come forth. Clearing your throat, you wipe the sweat that had accumulated against your palms over the rough fabric of your jeans.

"Um...I understand this is a difficult and uncomfortable position for you all to be in, and I am sorry that it had to come to this, but I would be grateful if I could maybe get a chance to talk to all of you," you propose. Words catch in your throat before you push forth, "That's all I want, you all don't have to agree to anything, I just...I just want to talk right now."

You pause to study their response. Two of them raise their heads, still not high enough for you to see anything under the darkness of the hoodies, but enough to let you know that you are acknowledged.

"Talk to me... please," you beg, body leaning forward. You don't want to think of what might happen if you don't get them to talk to you. Is that what they want? You wouldn't be surprised if they would rather face the horror that awaits them instead of choosing you. If you were in their position, you might just too.

'But you aren't, are you?' a voice inside your head whispers, and you have to embrace the reality. No matter how scared you are, how visibly terrified they are, if you don't take them home with you today, you'll never be able to live with yourself.

Most would call your actions selfless, but you know better. The guilt still sits deep and thick in your stomach, while nightmares plague your sleep, leaving you sobbing and gasping against your pillow, tears wetting the fur as you battle your demons night after night.

Perhaps it's your desperation, or maybe it's the stripped bare vulnerability, but something in your voice catches their attention, and they finally raise their heads. Seven pairs of sharp, glittering eyes gaze back at you from under the dark shadows of hoodies, and suddenly you feel your heart pick up, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream.

Your feet tingle with the need to run, to put some distance, but you stay firm, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin—doing your best to put on a brave, steadfast front.

Your trembling, clenched fists away from their sight, however, give away the fear you feel.

"Why?"

Just one word, that's all that comes from the figure sitting opposite you, the one who had sat down first, and you voice out an unintelligent sound—confused.

"Huh?"

"Why would you do this?" he clarifies, hazel coloured eyes gleaming back at you eerily, and you have to suppress a shiver at how bright, sharp and deadly they look.

"Why shouldn't I?" you counter instead, because the truth is that you don't have an answer to his question. Why indeed. Why are you willing to do something so many others of your kind aren't? Do you have a hero complex? Or are you trying to salvage that last speck of morality you have left as you try to make up for your past mistakes?

The last thought leaves you feeling hollow again, memories flowing in, and you clench your fists tighter until your nails are digging sharply into the soft flesh of your palm.

Distraction, what you need is a distraction.

Something to centre yourself before you spiral, because you can't right now. Any sign of weakness on your part could ruin your present, hinder your future, and also the lives of the seven men who are studying you, internally cataloguing your movements away.

You can't risk it; not when the stakes are so high.

His eyes peer into yours, the question going unanswered as he tries to find something, maybe an ounce of what the truth is, what your intentions are, and you let him. You keep your eyes locked onto his and let the others in the room study you too.

It's as though you can feel their gazes rake against your skin, and goosebumps break out all over your body, even under the warm protection of your hoodie. The previously cold room somehow seems even icier as they take their time, letting the silence stretch on, and you have to stop yourself from fidgeting or nervously tugging on your hair.

"Can we trust you?" His eyes are filled with some unnamed emotion as they gaze back into yours, and your mind goes blank, thoughts slipping away into thin air when you see the way he looks at you.

Your eyes stray away from his, skimming over the other six figures briefly, before they lock with his once more, and you gather your thoughts again. Voice filled with confidence you don't truly feel, but secure in the knowledge that you will always try, you say—

"Yes you can, all of you can. I won't let anybody hurt any of you, ever."

Rubbing your right arm, you look around the room, pretending that you aren't focusing on the seven men huddled together a few feet away, furiously whispering to each other. You wish then that there was more in the room than just a wall clock and a metal table. How long can one gaze at blank walls before they are officially considered crazy?

You are suddenly thankful that there are no cameras in the room because you must be making quite the picture. Hands dug deep into the pockets of your hoodie again, you bounce on your feet, eyes darting from one nook to another, willing your anxiety to ebb.

You hear one of them whisper something harshly, but neither can you make out the words, nor do you try. The least you could do for them is give them some privacy. Your words before were bold, saying that you would protect them from any and every harm, but would you? Or more precisely, could you really? After all, you couldn't even—

No.

No, you will not go there. You can't. Not right now, not when the seven men hunched close together not ten paces away from you need you to survive. Taking a deep breath in, you blow warm air over your fisted hands; No, you decide this time won't be a repeat of your past.

As your eyes shift to see the seven hybrids, you make a promise right there to do all that you can to protect them, and if anything or anyone comes in between you and that goal, well then, they'll be damned.

When they finally straighten and turn to look at you, your gaze snaps away from them, cheeks heating at being caught. Thankfully they don't mention anything, and you wonder if by this point they are just used to being ogled. Do they think it's okay for others to decide for them? Acceptable for others to gaze at them with eyes filled with emotions ranging from pure admiration to sinful lust and utter disgust?

The tall figure from before clears his throat, and your eyes snap back to him and the six men flanking his sides. Your breath, however, gets caught in your chest, when he drops down in a deep bow and then shrugs the hood off of his head, raven coloured strands spilling in his eyes. From in between the long messy mop of hair emerge two triangular, black-furred ears.

Taking his cue, the rest of them follow suit, shrugging off the hoods over their heads one by one, and your chest hurts from holding your breath for so long, but you can't bring yourself to breathe.

They crane their necks up, and your eyes rapidly flick from one to another.

There in front of you are the seven most gorgeous men you have ever seen in your entire life. And while some might feel a sense of power and control with seven handsome men bowing low in front of them, all you feel is dread—far and dark, pooling deep in your belly.

What have I done?

"Uhm, ri-rise—please!" you stumble, the words falling somewhere in the realm between a command and a plea, your hands flailing in a motion to let them know that they shouldn't bow anymore, but they stay put.

Spines curved, heads tilted low, they keep their gazes locked onto the floor, and together, seven voices swelling into one request: "Please take care of us, mistress."

The back of your throat tightens, and you don't say anything. Not because you don't want to but because you might sob if you try. Is this what it's like being a hybrid? Calling humans master or mistress, forever physically and psychologically being shackled and owned?

Your eyes blur, and tears slip down your cheeks, and hastily you bow down low too, ignoring the sudden uproar of protests and calls of "mistress!"

"I wi-will always do my best to care for you, please trust me, and I hope we can one day be...be..a real family."

You blubber out as tears stream down your face, leaving warm trails behind in their wake before they drip down from the tip of your nose. Your lungs hurt from holding in your sobs, and you have to clench your jaw to prevent any whimpers from tumbling out. The past haunts you and tears your heart to shreds inside, and with every utterance of the word 'mistress' from them, it's like something in you is dying—curling and rotting away.

Nauseous you think of what they must have been through to become as submissive and yielding as they are today. The seven men are all hybrids, part animals for fuck’s sake, submissiveness wasn't a trait they were born with; what did humans before you do to turn them into who they are today?

More than anyone else, you know that hybrids have nasty tempers, so where was their anger? Where was the dominance that came inherently laced into their DNA?

"Mistress please, stop!" someone cries out before soft arms grip your shoulders and raise you, blurry eyes catching sight of a different pair of ears. You watch as this new man fusses over you, his distressed voice clearly agitated over the fact that his new mistress was crying.

Soft, warm palms rise to cup your cheeks, and you make a surprised sound.

However, the sound startles the hybrid enough that he seems to realize what he was doing. With a whimper, the hybrid man pulls back, apologies tumbling out of his mouth like water from an open faucet.

Raising your arms, you try to assure him, but before you can get a word in edgewise, he is bowing and scurrying away, back into the dark hallway and to wherever he had come from, while you just stare confused and worried at his disappearing figure.

"Wa-wait!" you call out and move to chase him but stop when one of the taller hybrids steps in your way. Raising your eyes, you realise he's the one who you have been talking with, and you wonder if maybe he is the leader of their group.

"I apologise on behalf of Jimin, Mistress. He must not have been thinking clearly, and he shouldn't have touched you without your permission. He is one of the younger ones, and sometimes he slips up, but I promise you he means no harm. Please forgive Jimin for his impudence; he won't do it again." The tall hybrid pleads, his ears flicking in distress between his long raven strands.

You gaze at him with a baffled look on your face, shaking your head and looking around the room in search of something, except you don't even know what that is. Brows furrowing, you open your mouth, but no words come out.

Impudence? Permission? And was Jimin the name of the hybrid who had just high-tailed out of the room?

Internally shaking your thoughts off, you cough out, "It's okay."

Gaze moving to the darkened hallway anxiously, after much internal debate you decide to leave the hybrid alone for now. You know absolutely nothing about Jimin besides his name, and you haven't even officially adopted him yet. Intruding in what is essentially his place somehow feels wrong, and so you stay put. Against what every cell in your body is asking you to do, feet itching to chase—you still stay put.

One might have left, but there are still six more hybrids standing in front of you, and it would be unwise and utterly stupid on your part to ignore them. They might all look close, but just in case you are wrong and they aren't, you'd rather not have seven hybrids fighting to be your favoured one.

After all, in your world, as twisted and disgusting it may seem, earning his owner’s favour is a hybrid’s purpose.

It might look as though they are all bonded together, but how long would it truly stay that way? Would one of them throw the others under the bus the first chance he gets? And on the off-chance that something like that does happen, what will you do?

A grunt comes out of you, feet swivelling as you take a few steps away from them. Hands raking through your hair roughly, you take in deep, slow breaths. Hearing one pair of footsteps inch closer to you, you raise your hand.

"Just give me a second," you rasp out, voice choked as your stress rises. You did not think this through at all. Less than five minutes in, and you have already somehow succeeded in making one of them upset.

'What the fuck am I doing?!' you internally screech to yourself. Thinking about how most hybrid owners are usually calm, poised, their noses tipped high up in the air snootily, as they gaze at the rest of the world with ill-concealed amusement and disgust, you curse your lack of composure. You hate—detest those kinds of owners, the ones who look at their hybrids as nothing more than mere pets, a commodity to show off and elevate their status in an equally superficial society.

But at least they can look their hybrids in the eye. Except for two of them, and even then catching Jimin's gaze could be called an accident, you haven’t so much as actually looked at them. No, what you chose to do was of all the times in the fucking day, you picked this exact damn moment to lose your shit and start having a panic attack.

Fists clenching, nails biting into the skin until they leave indentations behind, you breathe out harshly, head tilting forward and hitting the wall, as you try to get the sudden bout of anxiety and vertigo under control.

Seeing you in very obvious distress, one of them again makes a move behind, and you hiss out, "Don't."

The feet stop immediately, and you breathe out harshly, cursing yourself for intimidating your hybrids even more. This is not okay; you are panicking and hissing, and you are not a serpent dammit. You are a full-fledged human being, and lord knows not everyone is as fortunate in this world, you can and need to pull your shit together right fucking now.

With neither much poise, nor grace, you eventually do manage to ground yourself again. Exhales coming out more like a dragon's angry huffs, you are positive that you don't make the most comforting image and are probably intimidating the hybrids a little bit at the very least, but maybe that is a good thing. While you'd never want them to be scared of you, perhaps a little intimidation would be useful in trying to get them all settled.

A voice in your head tells you that you are just making excuses for yourself, but you push it away to save both your time and sanity.

Straightening up, you turn to look at them and do a double-take when, instead of his attention being locked onto you like the others, you see one of them looking towards the darkened hallway.

Your gaze comes to rest upon him, and your eyes track the way his hands curl and uncurl restlessly, the way he chews on the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed and eyes swimming with concern for the hybrid named Jimin.

It somehow comes as a surprise to you, but maybe it shouldn't. How long have the seven men in front of you lived together in this facility? When was the last time they had a warm home to live in, a family to dote after? You don't know much about any of their pasts, neither does the facility, or they would have mentioned it in the file, so maybe it's wrong of you to assume that you'd be their priority.

While at first glance they may seem like they worshipped you, their potential new owner, much like any other hybrid would, they also have gone through more shit than most others of their kind. So perhaps, you shouldn't be so quick to make assumptions.

Clearing your throat softly, you watch as the anxious blonde-haired hybrid snaps his gaze to you, trying to school his anxiety under a calm facade, but the sporadic tick of his fingers still gives him away.

"Would you mind checking up on Jimin for me?" You phrase it as a question and a little like a request; you give him the option to deny you even though you know he won't, because if you ever want them to truly feel like they are your equals, any human’s equal, you'll have to make sure that they understand what the word free-will entails. That they have a choice, that they will always have an option.

That the luxury to deny is something that they deserve, just as much as any other human; master or mistress.

You still don't know his name, your thoughts too convoluted to recall what you had read in the file earlier, but you know one of them is a lion hybrid, and looking at his voluminous long, straight blonde hair, you think he might just be the one.

Hearing your question, he simply gives you a nod. In the time it takes you to blink, he is halfway across the room, and soon his figure disappears into the hallway that he had come from. His speed surprises you a little but again, maybe it shouldn't; he is a predator hybrid after all.

"Taehyung." The raven-haired hybrid again speaks, and you raise a brow in response, silently urging him to explain.

"His name is Taehyung, he's a lion hybrid. I am Namjoon, a wolf hybrid, and it is our honour to have you as our mistress y/n-ssi," he continues, with a small bow, and you have to bite your lips from saying anything in response. The formality, the way his words seem almost rehearsed, detached and void of any warmth, as though he had spoken the same introduction time and time again, leaves you feeling unsettled.

"Namjoon," you repeat slowly and smile when Namjoon nods in response. No smile comes your way, and your action goes unreciprocated, but you do your best to not take it to heart. You expected this would happen, they weren't going to trust you so easily, and you'll just have to earn their trust, but that's okay, you can work with that.

Your introduction earlier was cut off, and you try to avoid thinking of just why. Instead, you say, "Umm, you don't have to call me mistress, y/n is fine. In fact, I'd rather you not, makes me feel older than I am," you joke, and just like your smile it goes by without a reaction too. The awkward silence stretches on and you fake a cough in your hand, to break it.

Ignoring your slowly warming cheeks, you turn to the man (Or is it a boy?) who is standing next to Namjoon. Sensing your attention on him, he shifts a little to hide behind Namjoon, his hands peeking from under the long sleeves of his hoodie as he hunches in on himself, large front teeth peeking out, and biting into his lower lip.

His cheeks colour under your scrutiny, and you physically restrain yourself from letting a coo out.

However. when his hands wrap around the wolf hybrid’s forearms, and he peeks at you from behind the tall frame of Namjoon, you almost lose the battle. Contrary to his large build, his demeanour is shy, soft, his actions more in sync to the animal that his brown, floppy ears come from.

"Jungkook," he mumbles, and then quickly shies away, hiding behind Namjoon again.

You bite your lip to hold in the grin your lips are itching to form, and instead give him a soft smile in response.

Jungkook, the bunny hybrid, whose long brown hair falls in soft waves and frames his face, with high cheekbones and big starry chocolate brown eyes that you can see peering at you from behind Namjoon’s shoulders. His soft, demure 'hi' melts your heart and makes you want to take him away from the coldness of this facility, to somewhere warm and loving, to a place where he won't have to be so meek.

Failing to hold in the giggle, you wiggle the tips of your fingers in a responding gesture and grin, while in response, Jungkook squeaks, cheeks turning red, as he promptly curls and hides behind Namjoon.

You see the other hybrids try and fail at holding in their own amused smiles in response to his antics, and your gaze snaps to Namjoon, the respectful, cold wolf hybrid when you hear him let out an amused huff, his eyes brimming with warmth and his stance protective in front of Jungkook.

For the first time since you stepped inside this hauntingly cold and quiet facility, you feel warmth seep into your heart, feel the edges of your grin soften into a fond smile.

Maybe this won't be as hard as you had initially thought, maybe—just maybe, there is still hope.

A flickering but still-burning flame of hope that perhaps you will come out of this with more than you had expected or even dreamed of—and that, you think, is reason enough to keep trying.

A/N: At 4.7k this is a pretty long chapter. The introduction had to be split into two chapters so that I could fit in all that I had wanted. I also have an exam to give, so I won't be updating this for a while. Wish me luck! *nervously bites her nails*

I am gonna edit this later and add a moodboard in (which btw is gonna be very fucking pretty) Anyywhooo, Have a great day, and if you liked the chapter, I'd love to know why. Comments fuel me like nothing else 💖So please validate me, lol.

Lastly shout out to Cecilia for pushing me through this, you’re an angel Ceci 🌸

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat - prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky.

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks.

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home.

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her.

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not need the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home.

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground.

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery.

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital.

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’.

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip.

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face.

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap.

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands.

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand.

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs.

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight.

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings.

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes.

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’.

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor.

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when she would help me after physiotherapy’.

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour.

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!'

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away.

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint.

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter.

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home.

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest.

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him.

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly - Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers.

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart.

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise.

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses.

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands - ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet.

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go.

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind.

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie.

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side.

He hears the door close behind him.

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes.

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily.

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs.

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause.

The twins stare at each other.

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.

The door slams behind him again.

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour.

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byuncock · 3 years

Text

Do you still love me? // Baekhyun

pairing: baekhyun x oc/reader

genre: angst, slight fluff?

word count: 1.6k

a/n: unedited! inspo came from a oneshot that is no longer available to read.

The cafe was filled with such a happy atmosphere. You were feeling everything, but.

You looked over to your boyfriend as his attention was solely on the one person sitting across from him. Which so happens to be his ex.

The both of you were out for your anniversary celebration, but it seems like you were the only one excited noting the outfits as you looked down at yours then looking over to Baekhyun's laidback hoodie and sweats. Good thing anything he wears makes him look stylish.

For some reason his ex keeps glaring at you from time to time. You havent even talked to her beside a simple introduction of hello's and my name is.

Your mood for the day has been ruined and dampened even more at the fact that he was paying attention to his ex more than you. You heave out a sigh while staring ahead just wanting them to finish talking so the both of you could just end the day even though it's only the after noon.

Hearing the sigh Baekhyun turns towards you while his friend is still talking. He stares a bit feeling bad that you had to deal with this on a special day.

He turns to her, "Well, it was nice seeing you again. If you don't mind leaving us since we are celebrating our anniversary after all" Baekhyun shoos her politely.

She let's out a flabbergasted "Oh!" and nods at the both of you then leaving. Baekhyun turns his head towards yours and gives a peck at your temple.

Feeling annoyed you stood up to leave not before telling him, "Let's go home, Baekhyun"

You were washing the dishes. Deep in thought about when things went wrong with your relationship with baekhyun.

He's been distant since around a month ago you ponder. Then the affection started decreasing weekly along with dates and communication you investigate.

As you were deep in thought Baekhyun was standing at the entrance of the kitchen the whole time with his arms crossed while staring at you. Also, deep in thought of what words to start off.

"Hey, we need to talk" he starts off as he uncrosses his arms and walks closer to you leaving a good distance.

Coming back to reality you looked over to him then down at the sink since you were still washing the dishes, "What did you wanna talk about?" letting out nonchalantly.

He opens his mouth, but the words are stuck. He closes and swallows, trying again, "I don't think I want to continue this relationship anymore" he lets out softly. As if he was hesitant even saying it, scared even.

You knew this was coming. Were you surprised? No. Just disappointed. You ceased washing the plates and turn to look fully at him, "Why?" genuinely curious even though you were breaking inside.

He stayed silent while looking around. Trying to find the words you assumed. "Do you still love me anymore?" you questioned in a whisper.

He stares at you straight in the eye, "I don't think I love you anymore" he finally lets out. Breaking you completely.

It was suddenly getting harder to breathe. You feel the tears creeping up. But you swallowed a large lump and nodded. Going back to finish washing the dishes, "Alright then, I guess this is it?" you questioned.

Not letting him say anything else when you added, "I'll pack my stuff when I'm done with this" you turn your head at him with a forced small smile.

Then he left.

It's been about a few weeks. Or a month. You don't really know since you lost count of the days. Not having the energy to even care about anything else besides your broken heart.

You were staying at your friend's place, who is kind enough to let you move in, but because of reasons you didn't want to do that to her. Letting her know you'll only be staying there for a short time until you find your own place.

The sun has set and the moon is shining brightly. Though the weather has been nice lately your mood hasn't got any better. So you try to cheer yourself up by having walks daily either in the morning or night.

This time around you were feeling extra sad and heartbroken which led to all memories with Baekhyun and self doubt. Must be your incoming monthly cycle.

You were walking out at night aimlessly. Which should be dangerous, but you didnt care at the moment. Not until someone grabbed your shoulders from behind and turned you around, startling you.

You were so shock you didn't really get to process who the person was before they pulled you into their embrace. The scent giving it away.

The tears you've been trying to keep at bay for the past week had finally been let go.

Baekhyun hears you sobbing and hugs you tighter while whispering apologies and I love yous in your ear.

You were so upset and hurt that he broke it off just like that. All the anger and sadness coming out through your sobs and actions. You pushed him away while looking at him.

"W- What ar-are you doin- doing?" you asked while hiccuping. Now that you were finally able to take a look at him you cried even harder.

He was flabbergasted, didn't know what to do, but pull you in his embrace once again while apologizing, "I.... I'm sorry my love.... I'm so sorry"

He tightened his hug while whispering apologies and sweet nothings.

While you just stood there. Limp. Bawling your eyes out at the same man who broke your heart.

So many thoughts were bombarding your already tired head. Why is he here? Why is he hugging me? How did he recognize me? What the fuck?

Baekhyun let you cry in his arms while he soothes your back. Waiting for you to calm down before he speaks again. When you do he lets out softly, "I would like to speak with you. If that's okay?" pulling away at arms length so he can look at you. Trying to decipher the emotion on your face other than sadness.

You were so confused, "What do you even want to talk about?" giving a deep frown as you try to back away from him and have a decent amount of space in between.

Baekhyun didn't like that. Even though you created distance he still managed to graze his hands down to yours to intertwine them.

"I wanted to apologize" he started quickly. "I know I broke your heart and told you I no longer loved you, but baby was I so damn wrong," he tightened his hold on you.

Millions of emotions ran through you. Still confused obviously. But now. Upset. How can he just do that? One second decides he no longer loves you and breaks it off then come back because he was wrong. Who does that?

He was eagerly waiting for any type of reply, but all he received was a troubled look and thoughts running through your head.

"These past weeks we've been apart felt like hell. I realized I made a mistake shortly after I broke it off with you, but I didn't want to get back to you so soon because I wanted to be sure that I still love you. Which I do, which is why I was trying to plan something until I ran into you" he pauses. Letting you soak in what he said before continuing.

He saw your eyes move from the ground up to his eyes. He took that as a queue to talk again and hopefully convince you how sincere he is.

"Something in my gut told me to do it now or else I wouldn't have got a chance later. So I took it." he pauses again and slowly gravitate you towards him into an embrace so the both of you could look directly at each other.

"Now I am hoping you can forgive me and give me another chance because I love you so damn much. I'm a fucking moron to ever thought I didn't love you anymore. Please, baby. Give me another chance and let me be with you again." he softly lets out with his lips just a centimeter away from yours.

His eyes occasionally drift between your eyes and your lips. Somehow his arms were wrapped around you.

You were still soaking it in. Everything was too much at the moment and in the state you were currently in didn't help.

The whole time he talked you didn't even reply back with anything besides all the emotional looks he caught.

You were deep in thought. So deep in thought you forgot what was happening until you feel his arms tighten around you.

You can tell the situation was making him anxious and your lack of response made it 10x worse.

"I don't" you croaked. Clearing your throat you tried again " I don't know" you finally let out.

He ended up placing his forehead against yours and stared deeply into your eyes. "Please" he begged with a crack in his voice. He closed his eyes and his expression seemed like he was holding back his tears.

You didn't feel bad.

You pulled away from him. Making sure you were six feet apart and he stood there with his eyes closed. You can see a tear run down his pretty features.

"My number's still the same" you whispered. You stood there for another few seconds then turn to leave.

If he wanted you back then he better work his ass off.

You were not going to experience that heart break again. You wanted to be sure that he means it so if the both of you do get back together there wouldn't be doubts. There wouldn't be second thoughts of what if Baekhyun falls out of love with you again. Because you have no idea if you can handle that the second time.

As you are walking back to your friend's place. Your phone vibrates.

a/n: lmk your thoughts!

#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun angst #baekhyun drabble #exo #exo angst #exo scenario #exo scenarios #admin b #my writings

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vs-redemption · 3 years

Note

Omg can I get scenarios about how you think Fatgum and Mirio would react if they found out that their crush thought they didn’t like them?? 😭😭 ty!!!!! ❤️

From Cindy: Wowzer! I really liked this request but it took me a couple days to get some ideas worked out in my head. I’m happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you are too anon!!

A Crush?! (Fatgum x Reader) and (Mirio x Reader)

FATGUM

When Taishiro Toyomitsu first opened his hero agency in the lively city of Osaka, his first priority had been to hire a cook to work there. Because his quirk relied heavily on the amount of fat stored up in his body, it was important to have a constant source of food available. Snacks and small meals between and during patrols did little to keep him fully powered, so finding someone who could meet his extreme dietary needs was of the upmost importance.

The first few people he’d brought onto his team hadn’t worked out so well. Even though he had no complaints about their food, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with his immense appetite. They got too caught up in the presentation, plus the portions were just too small. When the BMI hero finally hired you right out of culinary school, he was relieved to find your approach to his food conundrum much more satisfying.

He never had to worry about going hungry when he got into his agency anymore. Not only did you made sure there was plenty of food readily available for him, but you also kept his diet balanced with healthy foods that contained enough calories to fatten him up for his patrols. The food itself kept Taishiro’s stomach happy and full, but the effort and care you put into your work definitely started having an effect on his heart too after a while. Your dedication to keeping him in top shape drew his attention until he found himself starting to look forward more to seeing and talking to you than even eating your delicious food.

Taishiro wasn’t the type to lie to himself about his feelings. He knew perfectly well that he’d developed a little crush on you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about confessing though, or if he even should. His schedule didn’t leave much time for dating, and he didn’t want to start something if he wasn’t going to be able to dote on you the way he was starting to desperately want to.

Little did he know, on the other side of things, you were struggling to deal with the feelings you had for him too. You had always thought your boss was a nice guy, but after seeing his jolly and friendly behavior every day, you couldn’t help the crush that had creeped up on you. You tried your best to put it out of your mind, assuming there was no way a great hero like Taishiro could return your feelings. It wasn’t as if he did anything to make you feel otherwise. He was as kind and encouraging to you as anyone else you’d seen him interact with. It was just that you knew the nature of your job made your personality come off a bit too overbearing to really spark a romance. You constantly berated yourself after each and every interaction you had with him, physically cringing as you remembered the nagging comments you’d made.

“I know you need the calories for your quirk, Taishiro, but don’t forget to eat some fruits and vegetables too.”

“Eat another bowl of rice, Taishiro. You never know when you’ll need that little extra push when fighting a villain.”

“Taishiro, don’t forget to take the leftovers with you in case you get hungry out there! It’s better for you than all that street food you’re always picking up on patrol.”

When you thought about it, you really pestered him way too much. Sure, it was your job to feed him, but still, he was a grown man. He didn’t need you bothering or lecturing like he was some kind of kid. The only reason you even acted the way you did was because you cared and worried about him, but how it came across was probably annoying and patronizing. This is why you were confident he’d never like you the way you liked him.

Eventually, the combination of your feelings for him and the concern over his impression of you becomes too much and you decide to confront him. You get to the agency early one day and make him some fresh jelly filled donuts.

“Hey! You hardly ever make stuff like this!” Taishiro chuckles, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for putting up with me,” you shrug awkwardly. “I know I’m a bit of a nag sometimes.” Your words take the hero by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re a nag at all!” He sounded upset to hear you say that. “I hope I never gave you the idea that I did.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You didn’t… I just figured you were nice to me just to be polite.”

“What?” Taishiro shakes his head, “You couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m being honest, I’ve actually developed quite the soft spot for you.” You look up into his eyes, a feeling of hope spreading through you.

“Yeah,” Taishiro laughs and scratches the back of his head bashfully. “I guess you could say I have a bit of a crush on you.” The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I…” You hesitate for a moment but then give in. “I have a crush on you too! I have for a while. I never dreamed you could feel the same way.” The smile that stretched across the hero’s face warmed your heart.

“How could I not feel the same way?” He chuckles while patting his large belly. “I’ve never met anyone else who could keep both my stomach and my heart so full.” His words were music to your ears. And now that you both were on the same page about your feelings, you could sit down together and start discussing important questions about the future, like where he was going to take you on your first date.

MIRIO

Getting a job as a server at the mundane little diner on the outskirts of town had only meant to be a temporary gig to help you save up some extra money for school. Your campus was just a short train ride from the restaurant, and your apartment was even closer. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was just a stepping stone in the path to your dream job, so you were more than willing to deal with it until a bigger more fulfilling opportunity came along.

What you hadn’t expected after starting the job was that you’d be terrible at it. You didn’t realized how bad your short term memory was until you found yourself forgetting people’s orders, or taking meals to the wrong tables. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also had a hard time balancing plates of food and were always dropping glasses and silverware accidentally. Luckily, your boss was a pretty chill and forgiving person and hadn’t felt the need to fire you yet. You really didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding another job, so you continued doing the best you could each and every day.

A few weeks after being hired, you started to feel the tiniest bit more confident about your abilities as a server. At the very least, you were getting better at remembering orders. Thankfully, there were a lot of regulars that got the same things every time which made your job easier. You were just starting to get into a comfortable routine when life decided to throw you a curveball. There was no way you could stop yourself from tripping over your own feet and almost spilling some poor customers breakfast all over the floor when you saw the pro hero, Le Million, walk into the diner with one of his hero friends. Thankfully you managed not to fall on your face or drop any food. Your relief was short lived, however, when Le Million walked right over and took a seat at a table in your section.

You knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as you walked over and forgot what you should even do. Being so close to Le Million was triggering a meltdown in your brain. He was your favorite hero and you honestly had a huge crush on him. Having him looking right at you with those cheerful blue eyes and wide friendly smile was extremely overwhelming.

“Uh…” You stood there blankly with the pen and pad in your hand.

“I think we’re going to start with something to drink!” Le Million speaks up with a light laugh which sparks you back to life.

“Ok, right!” you shake your head and try to focus. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee,” he says before gesturing to his companion. “I think you usually take hot green tea right?” The friend nods so you write the order down.

“A hot green tea and a coffee for Le Million,” you mumble without meaning to.

“Oh, I’m on my lunch break!” he corrects you with a grin. “So, you can call me Mirio.”

“Right,” you nod excitedly. “Mirio”

You do your best to function as you continue to serve him. You somehow bring black tea instead of green, but Mirio just waves off the mistake with a wave of his hand. You swear you write down the correct order for him word for word, but humiliation consumes you when his friend points out that there were tomatoes on his hamburger even though he’d asked for none. You offer to bring him a new plate but he tells you it’s unnecessary. He doesn’t even pick off the tomatoes before taking a huge bite.

When Mirio and his friend finally leave, you feel yourself deflate. You were thankful the embarrassing experience was over, but part of you wished you’d made a better impression. The universe must’ve been out for you because the next day, it decided to grace you with a second chance. Mirio walked back into your diner with his friend, taking the same table as the day before. You tried to do a better job at serving him this time but you still fumbled a few things. This continued for a few weeks. For some reason, Mirio kept coming back and sitting in your section. You had no idea why since he must be sick of your horrible service by now. You tried to think of a logical explanation for a while, but always came up empty.

“Um, Mirio,” you tell him one day as he hands you the money to pay for his bill. “I know I’m not the best server in the world, so you don’t have to sit in my section every time.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you!” Mirio replies instantly, looking taken aback by your words.

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected a response like that. “But I always mess up your order.”

“That’s all right!” Mirio perks back up, “As long as you keep doing your best, that’s what matters! Plus, I’ve been sort of biding my time, looking for the right moment to ask for your number. I think you’re really cute.” He winces a little bit as if preparing for rejection. The confession startles you and you somehow end up missing his hand while giving back his change, causing coins to scatter across the counter. Mirio just smiles and helps you pick it all up.

“I can really give you my number?” you ask in shock once the money is back in his hands.

“Yeah!” He assures you, “As long as I’m allowed to call it!” You felt yourself blush, but managed to stay calm enough to grab a napkin and scribble your number down. Mirio thanked you before heading out with his hero friend to go back on patrol. It was less than a minute later when your phone buzzed in your pocket with a message from your hero crush.

It said, “I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!”

You’re still in a state of shock as you hug your phone to your chest. You’d initially taken the diner job as a way to save money for school, but maybe fate had brought you here for something else entirely.

#mirio x reader #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #bnha x reader #mha x read #togata mirio #Taishiro Toyomitsu #bnha #mha #writing requests #cindy's writing

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whumpcollector · 3 years

Text

Lucas Pt.8: The gladiator and the Captain

Hey everyone. Here I am, back at it again with Lucas. There’s a bit of character introduction and set up coming so hopefully ya’ll don’t mind the slower pace. Hope you all enjoy.

CW: Mentions of vomiting

Lucas knelt over a bucket, dry heaving and choking as his stomach churned. Sweat poured down his forehead, his body shaking as another wave of nausea washed over him.

“I am so sorry Lucas,” Jawad said, kneeling beside the boy and patting his back. “I didn’t think you would take to the tincture this poorly...”

Lucas tried to respond, but any attempt at speaking was shut down as another dry heave hit him. Nothing came up, what little food Lucas had in his stomach had long since been expelled. All he could do now was wait for things to pass.

Jawad signed, walking over to his desk and picking up his journal. He scribbled in the pages, shaking his head slightly. He turned back to Lucas. “Do you at least feel like your magic has returned?”

Lucas took his head out of the bucket, holding up a shaky hand and trying to bring forth a flame. Nothing manifested and Lucas had to abandon his attempt as another wave hit him.

“I suppose that's a no then.”

It had been a couple of days since Lucas had first awoken. He had not left Jawad’s tent, the doctor insisting that Lucas remain so he could monitor his recovery. There had been no issues, by all accounts he was healing like any normal person would. Lucas didn’t know how he felt about that. It was good that nothing bad was happening, but it was also...strange. He was used to any injuries he had healing in a few hours at most. The need for bandages, the bleeding, the soreness that came from healing muscle, it all felt unnatural.

He didn’t care to think about whether or not he would need to get used to it.

At last the nausea faded and Lucas was able to pull himself to his feet. He was still shaky, having to brace himself against the table to avoid falling over. Jawad gently grabbed onto his arm, guiding him over to the bed and letting him sit down. He handed Lucas a bowl of water, letting him rinse out his mouth.

“Thank you.” Lucas said, bowing his head slightly. Jawad had so far not been partial to the more overt displays of submission that Captain Edwin had drilled into Lucas. Anything more than an appreciative thanks was dismissed as being ‘unnecessary’. Lucas was grateful that so far these mistakes had gone unpunished.

“No thanks needed Lucas, least of all because I just poisoned you…” Jawad trailed, flipping through his journal some more. “Hmmm, perhaps another potion might work...if only I had something more reliable than my old mentor’s theories.” He turned to Lucas. “Are you certain there is nothing you might know that could lead us in the right direction?”

Lucas thought for a moment, racking his brain before a memory stuck out. “When I was with my old masters I was given a sort of potion once. It, um, it sort of helped my magic after I had used it a lot.”

Jawad’s eyes lit up and he walked over to Lucas, sitting down next to him and focusing on him intently. “What do you remember about it? Taste, texture, smell.”

Lucas tried to recall what he could. Everything before his time with Captain Edwin felt fuzzy, like he was trying to look at it through thick fog. “Um, it was thick...I think? Yes it was a thick liquid and…” Lucas trailed off, trying to remember anything else. “I think...it burned when I drank it.”

Jawad nodded, writing in his journal before responding. “Do you know what it was called? Or where your...old master,” he frowned at the word, “purchased it?”

Lucas shook his head. “No.”

“Any specific taste, any...side effects of the potion?”

“N-no.”

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“It...no.”

“Did it have a particular smell?”

“It...it smelled...sweet?”

Jawad hummed to himself, flipping through the pages of his journal rapidly. After a seemingly unsuccessful search he stood up and walked over to his table, sifting through several thick tomes and other journals. Lucas watched apprehensively, shrinking back as the doctor became more and more frustrated with his search. After what must have been at least half an hour Jawad slammed the book he was holding onto the table, causing Lucas to flinch.

“Well, there are at least a dozen theoretical,” he spat the word out like it tasted of ash, “concoctions and tinctures that help restore the use of magic and share some similarities with what you described, but without any more details I can’t determine which, if any, of the ones in my records match the one you were given.” He pinched his forehead. “Much less if any of them work.”

Lucas bowed his head. “I-I’m sorry for not being of any help, a-and for wasting your time.”

Jawad sighed, walking back over to Lucas, patting the boy on his shoulder. “It's not your fault.” He turned away, crossing his arms and placing a hand on his chin. “Perhaps it's time you introduce yourself to the others in camp. From what I can tell your recovery is coming along fine, and I imagine you’d want to get out of this tent by now.”

Lucas swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He had been dreading this, being forced to serve the others in the camp. Jawad had been easy to satisfy so far, and he was just getting used to how to address and act around him. Now he would have to learn all over again, with people likely far less forgiving than Jawad was.

Still, it wasn’t up to him who he did and did not serve.

Jawad must have taken Lucas’s silence as agreement, which it was in a way, and beckoned Lucas to follow him out of the tent. Lucas complied, walking out from under the tent flaps and into the camp itself. He squinted at the sun, the bright light hurting his eyes after so long in relatively dim conditions.

“Ah, Lucas. I see you are on your feet now. That is good news.”

Lucas turned to see Mehrzad approaching him, saber slung over his shoulder and helmet held at his side. He was the only person Lucas had really seen over the past few days, often bringing Jawad food or supplies he requested. He didn’t really talk to Lucas, usually only staying around long enough to drop off what he needed to and say a few parting words to his husband.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking Lucas up and down.”You seem a bit pale.”

“I am afraid that would be my fault.” Jawad said. “The solution I made had some...unfortunate side effects.”

Mehrzad let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, I see you’ve been on the receiving end of my dear husband’s ‘experiments’. I remember one time when he tried to brew something for stomach pain. I wa-”

“I’M certain Lucas doesn’t wish to hear the, well, gory details of that...” Jawad trailed off with a chuckle. “Why don’t you show Lucas around the camp? I need to convince Jon to let me acquire another batch of ingredients. I’m not sure what they are yet, but I don’t imagine they will be cheap.”

Jawad walked off, healing towards a large tent towards the center of camp. Lucas guessed that was where Captain Jonathon was. Lucas hoped he wouldn’t get too mad at Jawad’s request. Jawad shouldn’t have to get in trouble for his sake.

And Lucas didn’t want the doctor to have any reason to vent his frustrations.

Mehrzad clapped Lucas on the back, causing the boy to flinch slightly.“Well, looks like you are stuck with me for a while. Come, give you the tour.”

Lucas followed dutifully behind Mehrzad as he was led through the camp, head bowed and trailing by a couple of feet. The camp was large, with close to two dozen tents standing and numerous people milling around.

“Most of the people here are temporary hires, we call them ‘temps’. They usually only stick around for a few contracts or long enough to make it to a major city before leaving. You don’t need to worry too much about getting to know them, they’ll be replaced before you can get to remembering their names.”

Lucas grimaced at that. So many different people to get used to serving properly and he’d just have to relearn everything again later. Avoiding mistakes would be impossible. He looked around at some of the passing people. All of them looked imposing. Well built, big (or at least bigger than him), and...violent. A beating from any one of them wouldn’t be fun.

He decided not to think about what it would be like if they chose to gang up.

Lucas was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Mehrzad had stopped walking. The two bumped into each other and Lucas sprung back, shying away and waiting for the reprimand. Mehrzad simply stared at him, confusion on his face. After a few moments of awkward silence, Mehrzad finally spoke.

“Are you alright Lucas?”

Lucas looked up meekly, scanning Merhzad’s face for any sign of displeasure. “Um...yes I am sir. S-sorry sir.”

“Apology accepted?” He cocked his head, studying Lucas before humming to himself. “Perhaps we should rest for a moment, come sit with me.”

Mehrzad sat on a nearby fallen log, gesturing for Lucas to join him. Lucas obeyed and took a seat on the log, just close enough that he wasn’t being disrespectful but not too close for his own comfort. Mehrzad had seemed merciful thus far and Lucas felt like the man would be willing to give this one liberty. The lack of any reprimand confirmed his guess and Lucas let himself relax just a tad.

“So, Lucas, how are you feeling? You seem to be in much better shape, my husband’s experiments aside.”

“Oh. I’m feeling alright. Jawad says that my healing is going normally.”

“That is good news.” Mehrzad reached into one of his greaves and pulled out a small dagger. Lucas tensed, eyeing the weapon warily, but the man simply began to use the tip to clean beneath his fingernails. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you traveling with that caravan for? From what I can tell you weren’t exactly there of your own desire.” He turned to Lucas, a playful smile on his face. “Am I in the presence of some dangerous killer?”

Lucas looked down at his hands, memories of the attack flooding mind. Scenes of bloody fields and butchered corpses. He felt his throat tighten and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The bloodstained face of Harold flashed in his eyes and Lucas shook his head harshly, banishing the image before he had the chance to think about it.

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.” Mehrzad said softly.

Lucas’ head snapped up at Mehrzad’s words. The man had a concerned look on his face, eyebrows narrowed and lips formed into a small frown. Lucas swallowed thickly. “I was a performer for, for two of the men at the caravan.”

“A performer eh?” Mehrzad raised an eyebrow at the answer. “It's a difficult job, pleasing a crowd, isn’t it? You run yourself ragged putting on a show, put everything you have into it only for the slightest mistake to turn everyone against you.”

Lucas looked at the man taken somewhat aback. “Y-yes. It was difficult. My master Harold always made me do better after each performance.”

“Ah, yes. Always have to make it bigger, flashier, more impressive. First you’re fighting a single man, then you’re shoved into a pit filled with a dozen hyenas and given nothing more than a broken spear.” He shook his head, almost as if reminiscing. “I was a gladiator back in my homeland, a rather good one if I may say. Sometimes I can still hear the roar of the crowd in my ears.”

Lucas didn’t know if he should say anything. The two lapsed into an awkward silence as Lucas contemplated possible responses. Mehrzad coughed, fiddling with his dagger before placing it back into his greave.

“What's it like, using magic?”

Lucas started slightly, looking at Mehrzad and frowning. How would he describe it?

“It...hurts.” Merhzad raised an eyebrow but didn’t commnet. “It hurts when I try to use it, like, like I'm lighting a fire inside of my body that burns me. The more I try to do, the hotter it is and if I do too much it...it hurts a lot more.” He paused, looking down at his hands and running his fingers along the leylines. “But, it also feels natural, like it's something I’m supposed to do. Without I...I feel wrong. Like, like I can’t blink or, or move my fingers.”

Lucas sniffled. “I don’t like it.”

Lucas was crying. He hadn’t realized he was until a tear landed on the back of his hand. A shaky breath left him and he wiped at his eyes, trying to regain his composure as best he could. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he turned to see Mehrzad looking at him sympathetically.

“I can’t imagine what that feels like, losing something so...integral to who you are.” He handed Lucas a small piece of cloth and let home clean off his face. “But don’t worry. You will get your magic back. Jawad, for all of his eccentricities, is brilliant. Whatever the solution is to your problem, he will find it. I assure you.”

Lucas nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The pair sat together as Lucas gathered himself. Close to an hour passed and Mehrzad stood up, stretching his back and gathering his gear.

“I must go, Lucas. I have a contract soon and I am to meet the others for a briefing. You take care of yourself alright?”

With that Mehrzad left, and Lucas was left alone. A sense of unease filled him. What should he do? He wasn’t given any orders or instructions. Was he just supposed to...wander around until someone told him to do something?

Lucas stood in place for a few moments before deciding to do just that. He looked around and decided to walk towards the center of the camp. As he moved he took in his surroundings trying to notice any major landmarks he might be told to go to. As he searched he noticed a woman working at what looked like a giant cauldron. She was busy skinning what looked like a deer. A cook perhaps.

Lucas decided to ask if she was in need of help. Kitchen work was easy and he was decent at it. He probably wouldn’t do anything that warranted punishment.

Not that she would need a reason if she wanted to hurt him.

He started walking towards the woman when he heard someone call out to him.

“HEY! Who the hell are you?”

Lucas turned to see a lean man walking towards him. He stood straight, bowing his head as the man approached. “Haven’t seen you around before. You a new hire?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes sir, my name is Lucas. I am here to serve at your command.”

The man released an eyebrow. “What, really?” He fiddled with the scabbard on his hip before producing a dirtied sword. “You uh, you gonna clean this then?”

Lucas deflated, so much for kitchen work. Still, an order was an order. “Of course sir, if that is what you desire.”

“Shit, well, have at it then.” He dropped the sword into Lucas’s arms.

Lucas grasped the sword carefully, making sure to avoid the blade. He noticed the man walking away and called out after him. “Um, sir, do you know where I could find a rag?”

“Fuck if I know kid, you figure it out.”

Oh. Lucas looked down at the sword, and then at his surroundings. He didn’t see anywhere that might have something to clean with. Maybe he could ask someone. He noticed a woman walking by and tried to talk to her.

“Excuse me ma’am cou-”

“Piss off asshole, I'm not in the mood for chatter.”

She didn’t even look at him as she walked away. Lucas deflated further, looking down at the sword. He needed to get it cleaned soon. If he took too long the owner might get angry. Moving to a nearby fallen log to sit on Lucas began to rub at the sword with his shirt.

The work was slow, with most of the grime coating the blade taking considerable effort to work out. His shirt quickly became stained, with black and brown splotches dotting the area he used to wipe the blade. Just as he was about to finish a group of three other people walked up to him, dirty equipment in hand.

“Hey you, you the kid whose cleaning kit?”

Lucas looked up and nodded meekly. “Yes sir, I am here to serve at your command.”

“Damn, well here, clean this would ya?”

All three of them dumped their equipment at Lucas’ feet before walking off, leaving Lucas with a much larger workload. He sighed, his shoulder slumping at the sight of the pile. Dejectedly he placed the sword against the log he was sitting on and got to work cleaning off a breastplate.

News about his services spread throughout the camp, and before long Lucas had a barrack’s worth of arms and armor waiting for him to clean. After a few pieces Lucas just decided to strip his shirt off, using as much of the fabric as he could. It was long and exhausting work, with the last pieces being cleaned close to sundown. His arms ached from the rubbing and sweat poured down his face. As he hunched over the particularly filthy spear a shadow loomed over him. He sighed internally, something else to clean.

“Um, Lucas. What are you doing?”

Lucas looked up to see Captain Jonathon standing in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I am cleaning this equipment, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huh. Why exactly?”

“Because I was told to, Captain Jonathan.”

“Did you...want to clean all this equipment?”

“I am more than happy to serve, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huuuhhh. And you are using your shirt to clean because…?

“I could not find a rag, Captain Jonathon.”

The captain looked down at him like he had sprouted a second head. Lucas squirmed under his gaze, unsure if he had done something to upset the man.

“How...how long have you been cleaning this stuff kid?”

“Um...since midday I believe Captain Jonathon.”

The captain exhaled, placing a hand on his face and shaking his head. “Ok. For the record, don’t go around cleaning everyone's kit alright? Don’t need any of these bastards getting lazier.”

Lucas nodded, quickly dropping the weapon and starting to pull his shirt back on.

“Don’t put that thing on!” Lucas’ eyes shot up to see Jonathon staring at him like he had just stuck his hand into a fire. “It’s covered in dirt and grease, what th- Cathrai above, what's wrong with you?”

Lucas inhaled sharply, dropping the shirt and then falling to his knees, head bowed. “Im-I’m sorry Captain Jonathan. I-I did not mean to upset you.”

Lucas waited, trembling as he heard the man approach. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a blow to land. Instead he felt a hand lay gently on his shoulder, and looked up to see the captain kneeling down to look at him.

“Hey kid, it's alright. Didn’t mean to snap at you. It's been a long day for both of us. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” He pointed towards a nearby river. “Go take a bath. I’ll get you some new clothes and make sure Annya saves you some stew.”

Lucas paused for a moment before nodding eagerly. “Yes, Captain Jonathon. Th-thank you for your kindness.”

“No problem kid.” Jonathan stood up, taking the shirt with him and walking away. After a few steps he turned. “Oh and uh, don’t call me ‘Captain Jonathon’, all the time. I imagine it gets a bit tiring .”

“Yes Ca-, yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Jonathan nodded and walked away. Lucas watched him for a few moments before making his way towards the river. It was a fair way away from any of the tents, far enough to give some privacy. Lucas undressed himself and walked into the water. It was cold, but once he was able to wash away the muck and grime that had built up on his skin he felt much better.

After he finished cleaning himself Lucas sank down into the water slightly, letting himself relax. When was the last time he had been allowed to bathe in private? Or without a time limit? He honestly couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, he was allowed to now. He sank lower, resting his chin just above the waterline. He shouldn’t stay too long. He didn’t want Jonathon to think he was lazy or taking advantage of the man’s generosity. He let himself languish for another minute before pulling himself from the water. The air was cold against his wet skin but he didn’t mind. He hadn't felt this clean in...years probably.

Jonathon was sitting on a tree stump a short distance from the river. His back was to the water, a gesture that Lucas appreciated greatly. The man was carving at a piece of wood with a small knife, whistling a tune that Lucas didn’t recognize. He stopped when he heard Lucas’ footsteps, turning around and picking up a shirt he had laid across his lap.

“You look better kid, here, new shirt for you.”

Lucas took the shirt and pulled it on. It was big, the fabric hung loosely off of his body, but it was clean and warm. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem kid. I’ll see about getting you some nicer pants too, those things look a little thin.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jonathan nodded and gestured for Lucas to follow him. The two walked back to the camp, heading towards the center. Several small groups of mercenaries were sitting around a large bonfire, talking and laughing over bowls of food. Lucas saw the lady from earlier, Annya he figured, doling out stew from the cauldron, a small line forming in front of her.

“Take a seat Lucas, I’ll go get us dinner.”

Lucas nodded and sat down on a box placed towards the fringes of the bonfire. Jonathan walked towards the lady, nodding to a few of the mercenaries he passed. Some nodded back, others offered salutes, one asked for the captain to join him and his friends at a game of dice. Jonathon declined and walked up to the cauldron, taking his place in line behind the others.

Lucas watched him, trying to get a read on the man. He seemed well liked by most of the people in the camp. That was a good sign, well liked people don’t tend to dish out beatings for no reason. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt. It was well made, probably the nicest piece of clothing Lucas had ever worn. He was surprised it was wasted on him.

The captain returned with two large bowls of stew, sitting next to Lucas and handing him one of them. “I had Annya give us the big bowls. Perks of being captain.” He pulled a spoon from one of his pockets and handed it to Lucas. “Eat up, you did a lot of work today. More than your share.”

Lucas took the spoon and dug into the meal. It was as good as always. He had been fortunate enough to be allowed meals every day so far, probably to help along his recovery. He hoped that things wouldn’t change too soon, though he had a sinking feeling that they would once he finished healing.

“Annyas a blessing. Before we picked her up we didn’t have anyone who could cook. We ate what preserved crap we could carry and whatever we managed to hunt or forage.” Jonathan shook his head. “Once when we were low on supplies all we had to eat was raw grain and mushrooms for days. I don’t think I've come closer to being killed by my own men.”

The captain tilted his head back, draining the last of the broth from his bowl and placing it on the ground. He turned to Lucas, a serious expression on his face. Lucas paused, placing the bowl in his lap and waiting for the captain to speak.

Jonathan pulled out a small metal medallion shaped like a crown. “You see this? This is the emblem of the Crownsmen - that's the name of our company if you didn’t guess. Everyone who works for me has one, and it serves as a symbol of our unity and camaraderie, of our code. One very important tenant of that code is fairness, everyone pulls their fair share, no more no less.” He pocketed the medallion. “Now you aren’t a crownsman, but you are a guest in our camp, which means that applies to you too.”

Lucas gulped and bowed his head. “O-of course sir. I am more than willing to do whatever you order.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, no. Probably could have phrased that better...” He muttered to himself quietly before turning his attention back to Lucas. “Anyways that's not what I meant. It's been less than a week since we pulled you half dead from the site of a massacre and today you spent the better part of 10 hours cleaning a barrack’s worth of kit. That is far and away beyond what I consider a fair share of work. You’re on your feet now so I’ll probably have you help around the camp a bit but any work you do comes from me. Anyone else tries to order you around you tell them to fuck off alright?”

Lucas nodded, it made sense that the captain of the camp would be the only one allowed to give him orders. At least that meant he would only need to learn how to please one person now.

“Good, now get some sleep. It’s late and you must be exhausted.” Jonathan stood up and began to walk away before turning around. “Oh, and if anyone tries to give you too much shit you let me know. I don’t tolerate infighting.”

“Yes sir, of course.”

Jonathan nodded and left. Lucas watched him for a moment before picking his bowl back up. Fatigue was starting to hit him hard and he could barely muster the energy to finish his food and walk back to Jawad's tent. It was empty, the doctor was likely taking care of something. Lucas was too tired to wonder what. He crawled into the cot he had been using and let himself drift away.

So far, this place didn’t seem too bad.

Tags: @haro-whumps @ladygwennn @dramaticcollapse @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @inpainandsuffering

#whump #magical whump #lucas #mehrzad #jonathon #fantasy whump

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lokis-army-77 · 3 years

Text

If You Please

Chapter eleven

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3560

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Honestly, this chapter reads a little weird to me but my friend who helps me edit said it was fine. IDK going from the 40s to 2012 is weird when trying to write.

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Masterlist

Seven months had gone by since Steve and I had been unfrozen. This new world I suddenly woke up in was exhausting. Everything had changed from the simplest thing like manners to complicated things like technology.

Days after waking up, we had been sent to a place called “The Retreat” so we could catch up on the seventy years we had missed out on. There was so much that we took to writing everything down in small notebooks, so we could remember.

I caught onto using the new technology quicker than Steve since I had worked with Howard Stark for several years. Being able to adapt to strange and new tech on the fly was a requirement when working with him.

After those few weeks there, we were both moved into two separate government apartments located in New York. I wish I could say that it got easier with time, but it didn’t. Instead of going to hang out with Steve or actually trying to make acquaintances with anyone, I just stayed in my room, locked away from everything. Coping with being in the future was the easy part, learning to live without everyone I ever knew was hard.

I hadn't known peaceful sleep in a long time. Every time I closed my eyes I am met with nightmares. The softness of the mattress had made it feel like I would fall through at any moment, back into the ice. To try and combat this I pushed my bed into the far corner of the room and made a cot directly under the frame. It felt safer to lay on the hard floor in the dark. The nightmares still came through, sometimes they were battles, sometimes they were of the plane crashing, but most of the time they were about losing Bucky. Every time I woke up in a cold sweat and never went back to bed. I just stared unblinking at the metal that made the bed frame.

One night after a particularly taxing dream I decided to take a walk. It was three in the morning, so I wouldn't have to deal with a lot of people. I changed out of my pajamas into some of the clothes I had been provided. The clothes of the future were tighter than in the forties. It had taken me a while to get used to the feeling of fabric clinging to my legs and upper body. The outside world was quiet except for the occasional car passing by. I kept my eyes to the ground, not really caring where I ended up. I only looked up when I was almost run over by another late-night walker. Peering from left to right, my eyes fixed on an old faded sign hanging above me. The letters were just barely readable and said in large letters ‘Boxing gym’. With another survey of the area, I realized where I was. This was the gym that Bucky used to take Steve when teaching him self-defense. I had tagged along a couple of times before I had joined the SSR, I was surprised it was still here. I smiled weakly and turned to the door. The light inside was on, it couldn’t hurt to see if they were open. The door creaked open and I slipped in quietly. The sound of someone working out came down the long brick hallway. Hesitantly I made my way to the open doors that led to the sparring room.

Stopping just past the threshold, to my surprise, I spotted Steve, who was busy punching the life out of a punching bag. I walked through the small office and around the boxing rings before I stopped again and leaned against one of the columns a few feet away from where Steve stood. I watched him for a while before he landed a hard punch on the bag and it flew off into the distance. I started clapping slowly and he turned around in shock.

“Good job, you broke the bag, but you do know you’re gonna have to pay for that right?”

“Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a while. I came by your apartment but you didn’t answer.”

“I know Stevie, I just haven't felt up to company since we got back to New York. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked at me with sad eyes and took three long steps in my direction. His arms came out to engulf me in a hug.

“It’s okay, I understand. Promise you’ll tell me if something's wrong, okay?” I nodded into his chest and he squeezed me tighter.

“I couldn't sleep, I guess you couldn't either.”

“No, too many thoughts.” He let go of me and went to get two more punching bags. He hung them up a few feet away from one another before turning to me and asking if I wanted to join. Pretty soon we were both laughing together if it felt almost like we were back home before everything happened. That was until the same dark-skinned man from that day seven months ago showed up. I later learned he was Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.

“I’m glad to find you both here.” He stated.

“Are you here with a mission, Sir?” Steve asked.

“I am.”

“Is this to try and get us back out in the world?” I asked.

“No, I'm trying to save it.” he thrust out an open manila folder. I grabbed it slowly and brought it to where Steve and I could both look at it. The blue cube that had evaporated Johann Schmidt was in the photograph pinned to the first page. In large bold letters beside the pictures spelled out TESSERACT. We slowly walked to a nearby bench and sat down.

“That's HYDRA’s secret weapon. I thought it fell into the ocean that day,” I whispered.

“Howard fished it out of the water when they went looking for you both. He thought what we think, that this cube could be an unlimited sustainable energy source.” Fury informed us.

“Who took it from you?” Steve questioned.

“He’s called Loki, he’s not from around here. We have a lot we're gonna need to catch you both up on if you agree to help. This world has gotten stranger than you already know.”

“I doubt anything could surprise us anymore, right Stevie?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Ten bucks says you’re both wrong.” Fury bet. We both got up from our seats and handed the file back. Steve went and grabbed another bag from the floor and I just headed straight for the door.

“There are debriefing packets at your apartments, read through them and get back to me by tomorrow afternoon. And before you leave, is there anything we should know about the tesseract?”

“You should have left it in the ocean.” Steve and I said at once before walking out of the gym. Once we were outside on the sidewalk we hugged and said our goodbyes for the moment and then went our separate ways.

The walk home felt longer than the walk to the gym, but this gave me time to think about what I wanted to do. Whether I wanted to go on this mission, or if I just wanted to lay low and live my life. By the time I walked through my front door I had almost made my decision, but I was waiting to read the file before I decided for good. With a quick look through the minimal information provided I sighed and threw the papers down onto my kitchen counter. Shaking my head I murmured to myself.

“No, I am not doing this. This cube is not worth it.” Rubbing my eyes I went back to my room and crawled under the bed, not caring that I was still in jeans and a t-shirt. I was not going to walk blindly into anything dealing with that cube again. I lost my fiance and everyone I have ever known because of that stupid blue thing, I'm not going to go anywhere near it again. I laid there quietly for a while before I eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning I woke up with a start, almost hitting my head on the bed above me. Furious honking made its way from the street into my room. One thing I definitely missed from the past was how quiet it once was at seven a.m.

Along with the decision to not join the mission, I had also made up my mind about leaving New York. This had been a long decision in the making and the talk with Fury last night was enough to make the choice for me. I couldn't live in this city anymore. The places I used to hang out at were still here, but they had been renovated so many times that they were unrecognizable. Everywhere I turned It was like I was walking through a strange alternate reality. I saw glimpses of the past, like ghosts around every corner, it was worse when it was a place Bucky and I frequented.

When I had gotten back from the Retreat I made the mistake of going to mine and Steve’s old apartment. It had been torn down to construct a bookstore, along with several other retail shops. I broke down in the street when I saw it, waves upon waves of emotions crashed into me. All the memories I had there with Steve, mom, and Bucky had no place to live now other than in my mind. The next mistake I made was to go down the next few blocks to Bucky’s apartment he shared with his mom and sister, Rebecca. It was no longer there either, a bakery stood in its place. I turned and left before the onslaught of tears came. After that day I thought it would be best to go somewhere else, somewhere I had no memories.

I crawled out from under the bed and slowly moved to the bathroom to start getting ready for the long day to come. Once I had showered and gotten dressed I sat myself down on the living room sofa, looking wearily at the telephone on the end table. Hesitantly I picked up the receiver and dialed the number that had been in the tesseract briefing file. It rang twice before Nick Fury answered.

“Mr. Fury, I’m calling to tell you that I won’t be joining your team for whatever mission you have going on. I just want to lay low and rebuild my life and live it quietly without interruption.” I let out a long breath.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Was really hoping to have you fight with us. If you change your mind, you know where to contact me. Goodbye Agent Rogers.” He hung up quickly after that, not giving me a chance to tell him goodbye as well. The next call was going to be the hard one, I had to tell Steve my plans. I dialed his number slowly as I raised the receiver to my ear. It didn’t even have time to get through the first ring before Steve picked up.

“Hello?” He asked on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What’s up kid. Have you called Fury about joining the mission? I called about an hour ago letting them know I’d help.” He sounded a little enthusiastic.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this but I’m not going to help with the mission.”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “Why not? I thought you’d want to help get rid of that thing once and for all.”

“It’s not that, I want nothing more than for the tesseract to be gone for good. I just don’t think I can be a part of it, I don’t want this thing to take over my life if we can’t get rid of it. This brings me to another important thing I need to tell you. I can’t stay here in New York, so I’m moving to DC.” He was quiet for a while after I had said that, the only thing I could hear coming from his side was his breath. I grew more anxious by the minute waiting for him to say something.

“What do you mean you’re moving? Why can’t you stay here with me?”

“Don’t be selfish.” I snapped.

“I’m not being selfish, you are.” he raised his voice. I huffed through my nose, getting annoyed.

“I can’t stay here any longer. I have no idea what it is like for you, but for me, being in this city is torture. I see ghosts from the past every time I leave my house. I can’t go anywhere without seeing him, and every time I see him, I break down. I never got to say goodbye and that day plays over and over in my head. Steve, I’m being tormented with nightmares to the point where I have barely gotten five hours of sleep in the past week. I need to get out of here whether you like it or not.” Tears had started to stream down my face as I yelled into the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you, I still can help you if you let me. If you leave I can’t keep you safe, I can’t protect you like I’m supposed to.” He was using his soft “grown-up” voice he always used with me when I was younger to try and calm me down but the tears kept streaming down my cheeks at a rapid pace.

“I can protect myself, we did take the same serum,” I choked out. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to bother you with my problems, I can deal with them myself. Plus you have your own things to deal with, you don’t need to help me with mine.” My head was starting to hurt now and my cheeks and neck itched with quickly drying tears.

“Fine. The only way I will be okay with you leaving is if you promise to call me at least twice a week and you let me help you move.” I gave a strained laugh and nodded, even if he couldn't see it.

“Okay, it’s a deal. I actually already have an apartment lined up, so you can come over and help me pack everything up whenever you want to. I’m going to try and be out of New York by the end of next week.”

“I’ll be right over.” I laughed as I told him that I’d be waiting. I laid the receiver back down in its spot and stood up to go to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, thinking. I was glad my relationship with Steve could handle an argument, understand one another, then go right back to normal, I don’t think we would be this close if it couldn't. I blinked back a few stubborn tears and bent down to grab a rag from the sink cabinet, I dampened it in warm water then wiped the dried tears from my face. The warm water felt wonderful on my skin.

Over the next week and a half, Steve and I boxed up what few belongings I had and packed them and the furniture into a moving truck. I didn’t own a car so the moving truck would be my transportation to DC. One of the many things SHIELD had us do was take a modern driving test, which wasn’t hard, just a few more signs to remember and more gadgets in the car than there used to be, I ended up passing with flying colors.

By Friday morning we had everything ready to go. Steve would follow me on his motorcycle and I would drive the truck the whole three and a half hours to my new apartment.

We stopped several times on the way down, mainly so Steve didn’t have to sit on the bike for the whole three hours straight. We also stopped for lunch. All in all the trip took us about five hours, with traffic added. We made it to my new home just after two and we started moving my belongings in immediately.

Admittedly the apartment was way too big for just me but I liked the extra space, it was different from the tiny two-bedroom apartment I had grown up in. The first thing I made sure to unpack and put up was the bed. I still hadn't told Steve I wasn’t actually sleeping in the bed, but he didn’t need to know that. After that clothes were sorted through and put in their respective places. With our enhanced strength and stamina, we had the whole place relatively furnished in just under two hours. We stopped for dinner when everything had been brought up from the moving truck.

The day went by fast with us talking and laughing like we used to, it was a good change of pace from my usual aimlessly roaming around my apartment alone. But, all good things have to come to an end and Steve had to leave. He pulled me into a tight hug, almost crushing me, and wouldn’t let go until I pinky promised to call him several times a week. I just laughed and promised him I would. I was sad watching him walk down the hallway to the stairs.

I turned back into my apartment and closed the door, locking it behind me. I stared at the box littering the floor and decided to get to work unpacking the rest of what we hadn’t gotten earlier.

Most of my belongings I found in thrift stores and antique shops around the city. It may have been the twenty-first century now, but that wasn’t stopping me from making my home a comfortable, familiar space. If you walked in from the outside world, you would have thought you had been transported to the past with how much authentic 1940s and before things I had littered about. Some things had been saved from the apartment we lived in in the forties. I learned a few weeks before we came back from the retreat that Peggy had been the one to put everything in storage after they had failed to find Steve and me in the ice. I had gone through all of it and took out what I wanted to take with me and Steve had done the same. I was thankful Peggy had done what she did, otherwise, everything would have been lost to time.

That night as I tried to sleep, I realized it was a little easier to relax. DC was a whole lot quieter than New York, there was no honking or yelling every two seconds to keep me awake. I was left alone in almost complete silence, which for others may be worse than being bombarded with noise, but I didn’t mind. I fell asleep almost an hour after laying down for the night and had a restless sleep. I woke up many times in the night covered in sweat, but I couldn't remember the dreams, anything I could remember dissipated as soon as I opened my eyes.

I woke up again very early the next morning, the clock on my wall said it was four forty-five. It was still dark out, but I could hear birds starting to chirp. I crawled out from under the bed frame and went to put on some exercise clothes. Running always helped to clear my mind after not being able to get any sort of rest. The run itself didn’t take long, even though it was seven miles, any normal person would be exhausted but I had barely broken a sweat. I did get to see some nice places, taking a route around the zoo, to the National Cathedral, and then back around to the Dupont Circle neighborhood, where my apartment was. The sun was just starting to come up as I made my way back into my building.

Although I had just moved in the day before, I was ready to start finding some sort of job. The money SHIELD was giving me to help assimilate back into the world comfortably was appreciated, but I wanted to make my own way in life without their help. Finding a job was going to be harder than it used to be, but I did have expertise in several areas. Upon being unfrozen, along with the driving tests, SHIELD created a new resume for me. I had degrees in history pertaining to the 1940s, World War II, and several of the New Deal programs, with a specialty in the SSR. I was also given a Veteran ID, although I don’t really know how that one works because I definitely was not a part of the apparent ongoing fighting in Afghanistan. I still looked twenty-four, I doubt anyone would believe it.

Anyway, I had interviews lined up for today at the Smithsonian, and hopefully, the resume that SHIELD created and my knowledge would be enough to land a job. I had already figured that I would be volunteering at the local VFW. I knew I could find people there to relate to and hopefully be able to make some friends.

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themagicalmysticalboy · 3 years

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Rarepair week, george&paul? Angst/comfort maybe? Let it be era? Hurt my soul :)

a/n: you’ve got it babe! i actually did some research for the flashback scene so it’s pretty accurate to reality, according to Ringo’s and some crew member's accounts.

Don’t Let Me Down

For as cold as it had been for the last month, the sun was shining high in the sky. A peculiar sight that brought a hint of warmth to Paul’s face but did not extend further than that. He could be in a summer's day desert and still feel the cold churn in his stomach. Looming tall and strong over him was the Abbey Road studio. The uncharacteristic beams of sunlight lit the many windows with a yellow glint. A million-eyed monster ready to tear him to shreds if he dared step closer. And he did dare. He peeled himself off his car and stiffened instantly. He’d been leaning against the passengers' door so long that when the wind hit his back it sent a shiver right through him. Or maybe it was solely his nerves. Either way, he didn’t plan to dwell on it.

A few Scruffs were waiting outside with paper coffee cups in hand and drink carriers stacked against the wall. So George was in. He had really come back. The cold churn rose to his chest. At this rate, he’d be a human popsicle by lunch.

There was a disjointed chorus of “Hi Paul” and “Good Morning” which he replied to with a courteous wave. He’d been largely turned off by the Apple Scruffs for some time now but there wasn’t really any malice. Having your house broken into was more than a bit off-putting, though. So he felt justified. George was the most tolerant of them, buying them coffees and breakfast foods every so often. They must have missed him while he was gone. Yeah. Surely they did. Because I did. Paul pushed the sentiment to the wayside. They still had an album to make. They still had songs to record and a documentary to be part of. He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him again. That had only led to an explosion.

Preparing himself with a stiffened posture and pushed back shoulders, he walked into the studio with a smile. It was almost painful to keep up but the cameraman was already in his face and he refused to let on to his nerves. He needed some inkling of control here and there was so little of that to grab hold of these days.

When he walked into the recording room, he found people scattered across the room but he didn’t find John or Ringo. It was still early in the morning so it made sense but he was undoubtedly rattled by the realization, becoming more rattled when he noticed George looking at him. Paul didn’t dare meet his eyes, drifting down to his feet. He looked soft, despite his sharp features. Cozy in his furry boots and warm jumper. He missed looking at that face and touching that body and kissing those lips. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d been able to do any of that. Too long.

George gave a thin-lipped smile before turning to Billy Preston at the piano. Was that a good sign or was this small sign of grace feigned for the cameras?

Whatever it meant, it drove Paul mad. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness but he sure as hell would take it. There was no helping the intrusive memories of the aftermath of George walking out. He had done it so nonchalantly that no one was sure he had actually left until they got to the recording room and found him and his guitar missing.

Something had shifted in the room as soon as the three remaining Beatles looked at each other. John was breathing heavily with an icy glare. There was a glint in his eye that screamed danger. It was focused on Paul. Picking up the bass with a death grip on the neck, Paul just stared John down. There was a mutual understanding in the moment. The rage in both of them was bubbling over more and more by the second.

John yanked his guitar from the rack and they both plugged into the amps. No one seemed to remember the camera crew was still around. They just turned to Ringo, who was already at his drums, drumsticks in one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. He was pushing so hard it had to hurt. And that was it. John squared up to the mic and began to scream the lyrics to a song they'd already wrapped up but they all threw themselves into it without question. Screaming, banging, and heavy riffs filled the studio. Nothing made sense and every fiber of Paul’s being hurt so much that he didn’t care. He wasn’t alone in the feeling, at least. They all felt some level of hurt.

Ringo was even mad- at the situation or at George or at Paul, it didn’t matter. He banged and slammed away like never before. It sounded so wrong coming from him but at the moment it was the only right thing to do. They sounded perfectly horrible. There was a distinct addition to the vocals and Paul turned to find Yoko sitting on George’s little blue stool, wailing along with John’s screams. Yes. Perfectly horrible.

When the song was up the energy was still poisonous and thick in the air. They weren’t done, not by far. Paul stepped up to the mic and John did not move away. With little notion of what he was doing, he went at the lyrics of another song. The words spat from his tongue with vitriol and fire.

They all needed to scream. Ringo was at the mic at some point, coming up with random words on the spot. Really just to have something to yell about.

When they finished, panting out the last seething breaths, Paul felt empty.

“Way to fucking go,” John yelled, eyes fixed on Paul. “Way to go.” his voice was drastically quieter, more tired and sad and hoarse, eyes drifting to his feet.

Paul’s bass suddenly felt a thousand pound heavier, pulling the strap down against his shoulder painfully. Maybe it was more the weight of his mistakes than the bass. Everything felt painstaking and dreadful for the rest of the day. The anger was gone and the screaming was done. There was nothing else to keep his mind from wandering into a wall of depression.

In the present, sans John and Ringo, he shyly grabbed an acoustic guitar and went to sit in a corner. He worked on one of his own songs, quietly strumming and murmuring. He didn’t like it yet, keeping it to himself. The awkward air in the studio only exemplified his need for privacy. So he stayed tucked away, only speaking when spoken to, like a good little schoolboy. George had even come over to ask about the song but Paul told him it wasn’t right just yet. There was no way he was about to embarrass himself on top of all this.

He went back and forth for most of the day. Playing several takes of various songs before turning back to his own song. There was a part on one of the songs that Paul found needed a quieter guitar part. The thought of addressing this issue to George was met with resistance. Was he really ready to address him? The guitar part could be addressed later, maybe. He could suggest another take tomorrow. But the song. It just wouldn’t be right. And maybe no one would be willing to do another take later. That struck a nerve in Paul that rang louder than the rest of his rationale.

“Maybe,” Paul started, resolving to look directly at George for the first time since he walked in. “The guitar could be a bit quieter next take, y’know? Just sounds a bit heavy.” He tacked on quickly, glancing at Ringo, “The drums too.”

Ringo gave him a pained expression. Paul looked George dead on with a weak smile, though he could see John’s cautioning glare in his peripheral vision. George’s eyes were dark and apathetic. His jaw was set tight.

George Martin came over just when he was about to respond. Oblivious to the tension between them, he clapped a hand on John’s shoulder with a grin. “That was a great take, lads. Why don’t you take a lunch break with the film crew.”

“Wasn’t good enough for Paul,” George huffed, leaving first. “But what is?”

George Martin didn’t hear the remark and walked off to talk with Mal.

“You’re really going to cock it up already?”

“What!” Paul went quickly to his own defense. “It was a suggestion, is all. I’m not treating him with kid gloves just because we had a row.”

“A row? He left the bloody band.”

“Not being a prick for one day isn’t kid gloves,” Ringo suddenly chimed in.

Paul gaped. “Caring about the songs is being a prick now, is it?”

John huffed an indigent laugh. “You’re painfully stupid.” He left with Ringo in tow before Paul could ask for any clarification. Not that he was sure he wanted any.

Stunned by the attacks, he stared blankly at George’s guitar. He had absolutely none of his friends at his side. He had managed to push them all away when all he wanted, so desperately, was to bring them together. They were slipping through his fingers like grains of sand and all he could seem to do was open his hands to quicken the fall. He’d lose them forever. It was all his fault. How long would it take? When would they figure out he wasn’t worth the trouble?

He just wanted them to be alright. He wanted to go back to how they were and just tour a bit. Play on stage like they all used to love. The band couldn’t rip apart. It just couldn’t because Paul would tear apart with it. And yet here they all were, at wit's end with one another. The connecting link to this free fall was Paul, of course. He had made Ritch leave and then George. It was all too obvious that John wanted out - surely Paul’s fault as well.

He couldn’t imagine a world without Ringo, John, and George playing at his side. He didn’t want to. It was something new and terrifying that had no qualms with keeping him up at night, even when three glasses of scotch in. He couldn’t recall the last time he slept without drinking. Even still, nightmares filled his dreams and made sleeping seem worthless and just as tiresome as not sleeping at all. What a poor excuse of a man he was becoming.

With a tight chest and burning eyes, he got up. Thankfully, the film crew had truly gone to lunch. He was mostly alone with a few straggling technicians in the booth.

There was no way in hell he could go to lunch now. Not while it felt like the world was out to get him. Not while he felt on the verge of crying. Instead, he decided to go outside for a smoke. The cold winter wind cooled his hot skin. He fell against the wall with a thud and bit his lip. His eyes were pricked with tears but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not now.

Dragging a hand down his face, he dove into his pocket and pulled out a spliff he’d rolled that morning for this very reason. His hand was caught on his chin as he eyed the thing. A beacon of hope.

He wasted no more time in lighting it. The earthy taste coated his tongue and warmed his throat. He relaxed on the exhale and repeated the process until his mind was a little numb. The carefree smoke floated high above before disappearing into the brisk wind. It would be so much easier to disappear with it.

“Stay gone too long and they’ll think you quit too.”

Tension pulled at his neck and traveled down his body. With an involuntary jerk of his fingers, the spliff fell to the concrete. He didn’t look at the newcomer and didn’t need to. The calming drawl could only be from one person.

“So?”

Paul reluctantly turned his head to find George’s steady gaze on him. Words abandoned his brain. “So,” he asked stupidly.

George’s features suddenly dropped and Paul noticed there had been a hint of lightness seconds before. Great. Already cocking it up.

“Oh, fuck you, then.”

“George! No, no!” He jumped forward and grabbed George’s wrist. “Please, love.”

There was hesitation in George’s step. He shook Paul’s hand off but did not leave. “Do you even care? Care that I left.”

His brow furrowed and his mind swirled back to life. “Of course. We were all-”

“I didn’t ask about the others. Did you care?”

It seemed like such an absurd question. There was nothing to suggest he didn’t. He was downright miserable. Was that not plain to see? Something inside him made him want to switch back on the defense. Deflect and reject. But he couldn’t let himself slip anymore. Everything was on the line now. His entire relationship was up to bat. He’d just be honest. And honesty wasn’t all that hard when your heart wrenched at the thought of this charade continuing for another second.

“Yes! I cared. I thought you’d never come back and I was terrified.” He was desperately searching George’s face for any recognition of belief. “You didn’t answer my calls for weeks and I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. If you don’t I can't even blame you at this point. Just tell me what I did wrong.”

There was no hint of emotion from George. He had a corked brow that could mean anything. The time passing with no answer couldn’t be good. Maybe he wouldn’t answer at all and just leave Paul standing here like an idiot.

“You want to know what you did wrong?” A look of contempt screwed up George’s features. “I don’t even know where I’d start.”

A weight crushed every bone in Paul’s body. He deserved this. He deserved the heartache and pain. The more it hurt the better George might feel. He just had to hold his asinine tongue.

“You treat me like I couldn’t find writing talent if it bit me in the arse.” Paul tried to interrupt, despite himself, with an explanation. “Shut up and listen!” George moved closer, sizing Paul up. “When’s the last time you took any suggestion I’ve made seriously? You’ve been screaming from the damn rooftop about staying together and getting back to basics yet you sit in your little fucking corner like a punished child, ignoring us to work alone. What’s the point, then? Just to show how much of a pain you can be? You act like you don’t want me- any of us- near your songs and then boss us around on our own.”

George was pulling in unsteady breaths. He leaned forward slightly, really looking into Paul’s soul.

“You weren’t even the one to ask me back. Had Ritch do it for you, you coward.” George pushed him into the wall and Paul took it. “And you have the gall to ignore me! Even when I came to you like a stupid loyal puppy! That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Your little puppy that you get tired of when it makes too much noise. Well, fuck you and your damn songs. Fuck whatever you think you’re doing. You’re not keeping us together and you never could.”

Just punch me. The thought was screaming at the forefront and wouldn’t settle. Too angry with himself to stop, he yelled back, “Don’t you think I know? I see everyone slipping away and turning from me and all I can do is push you further! No matter what I try or how good I think I’m doing, you’ll just leave me out cold.” Caught up in it all, he shoved George back. “And you’re not a puppy! You’re my mate. You’re- I love you, alright.”

His voice cracked and, god, he was crying. He was actually crying and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Really just didn’t think you’d come back if I asked. And if that makes me a coward then sure. That’s what I am. If being a coward is what I need to have you near, fine.”

A muscle in George’s jaw tightened. He was stiff and his eyes were damp. His voice was so soft when he said, “Why didn’t you look at me? When you walked in you wouldn’t even really look at me. And when I tried to talk you just buried your head in your notebook.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But as soon as you have an issue with a song you go in with those big eyes of yours and I don’t want to hate you. It’s not fair.”

“You’ve said it, y’know. I’m a right coward. Scared to lose you if I speak and losing you just as fast when I don’t. Shouldn’t have turned you away. I shouldn’t have ignored you. The song- the stupid song. Don’t know if I even cared about how loud your guitar was. I just wanted to look at you, I think.”

“Looking at me now, aren’t you?”

And he was. They had been staring relentlessly and it felt good, no matter how much yelling they’d done. He wiped harshly at his cheeks to clear them of tears. “I’m sorry for being a prick.”

“Aye. You should be.” The words might have hurt if the corners of his mouth didn’t twitch up. He rubbed Paul’s shoulders and arms. “Just talk to me, okay? I won’t disappear, I promise.”

His smile was sad but genuine. All Paul could ask for. He nodded but then realized he already missed the point. “Okay,” he voiced. “Talking. Always been my strong suit.”

George’s smile grew and he pulled Paul into a hug. He hugged back fiercely, balling his hands up in George’s jumper.

“I don’t deserve this.” The words weren’t meant to leave his mind but they seemed to come of their own accord.

George moved him back and Paul almost pulled them right back together. “What do you mean?”

Bringing a hand up to caress George’s cheek, he tilted his head. “I don’t deserve to have you. Don’t deserve to have this band. Wouldn’t you be better off without me? I’m just here to cock it all up.”

“You… really mean that, don’t you?” With a shaky breath, George brought him back into the hug and gently held Paul’s head to his shoulder, petting down his hair. “No matter what happens to the band, it’s not because you don't deserve to have it. It’d be because we all need space, alright?” He held Paul a little closer. “And you don’t get to decide if you deserve me. That’s my decision.”

Paul nestled into the crook of his neck, scared to ask but not willing to keep it back. “And you think I do?”

“No. No. I just fancy hugging people I hate.”

Paul smiled into his neck. “Arse.”

#beatlesrarepairweek #mcharrison #mcharrison fanfiction #the beatles #George Harrison #paul mccartney #John Lennon #Ringo Starr #the beatles fanfiction #the beatles one shot #the beatles rare pair week

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