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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 8 - Rookie Mistake [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Every agent makes mistakes.

Series Masterlist

You had no idea what you’d done for karma to hunt you down like this, but it was very clear that at some part in your life, you had messed up.

Maybe it was because you never bought recyclable giftwraps for Christmas even if everyone told you to.

Maybe it was because you still used too much sugar in your coffee.

Maybe it was because of all the targets you had killed.

A mystery, that one.

You groaned, pressing your forehead on the window of the car as you massaged your temples.

“Do I have a tracker on me or something?” you whined, “Is that it? What are the chances I run into my fake boyfriend twice while on a mission? It’s a huge city, it’s not supposed to be possible!”

“I don’t know about you but I’m shaking,” Keith reached out to wave his hand in front of your eyes while Chloe checked you both in the rear mirror, “I’m— my hands are all sweaty look—“

“Don’t touch me with your sweaty hands!” you batted his hands away when he tried to touch your face, “How did this happen? How is this possible? Chloe? Chloe answer me, how is this fucking possible?”

“Okay, let’s all take a breath and focus on the bright side of the situation,” she managed to say, keeping her eyes on the road, “Your cover wasn’t blown, he still has no idea you’re…well, you. And everyone is alive, yay!”

“I was on the same rooftop as the world’s most dangerous assassin,” Keith let out a breath, “He was right there when I got there, he was just…. That guy could kill us all!”

“Shrike, just give the order and we will—“

“Everyone stay where you are,” you touched your earpiece, “It’s under control.”

“Let me guess,” Bucky said as he took a step towards you, “Another member of HYDRA and you got here before me.”

“Are you following me or something?” you asked and he scoffed.

“Maybe you’re not the only person going after HYDRA.”

“Maybe I should be,” you said, “Don’t get me wrong, I kind of dig the whole vigilante vibe but my superiors have more…planned strategies for things like these.”

“And who do you work for, exactly?”

You let out a small laugh, “Every girl has her secrets,” you stated, “Why are you here?”

“Why are you?”

“Because I’m getting paid for it,” you said, “You’re not. Surely a handsome guy like you could fill his nighttime with different activities rather than doing….this.”

Even in the dark, you could tell that he shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“Aw, not a huge fan of flirting?”

“Not with you.”

You couldn’t help but scoff a laugh at the irony, “Why, you got a girl at home?”

The door slammed open and one of the agents –Keith, you assumed— stepped out, his rifle pointed at Bucky while he heaved a sigh, shaking his head slightly.

“Your friend has a scarf wrapped over his face to keep his identity hidden and you call me a vigilante?”

Keith almost looked like Daredevil with Chloe’s red scarf covering half of his face.

“Mystery is kind of our deal.” you said and motioned at Keith, “Put the gun down, he’s not going to hurt me. In fact, he’s going to let me walk away.”

Bucky tilted his head, “You think so?”

“I know so. I’d hate to mess up that beautiful face during combat.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I am.” you shrugged your shoulders and walked past him.

“Who are you?” he asked and you turned around to look at him.

“Come on, you know better than that.” You said and saluted him in a mocking manner before walking to the door, “Until next time, soldier.”

“I’m serious, feel my hands—“ you were pulled out of your thoughts when Keith reached out for you and you made a face, slapping his hand away once again.

“He told me he would stay at home tonight!” you exclaimed. “I can’t believe this, how dare—“

“It’s not like he said he was going to bed and ended up going to a club behind your back,” Chloe said, “Just saying, that happens a lot in some relationships.”

“Chloe, it’s not a real relationship!” you reminded her “What, my options were him having a one night stand and him going after the same target I was going to kill? By all means, he can go and get laid then!”

“But that would count as cheating!” Chloe said, “Besides, you know what they say. Targets over...ladies.”

“No one in the whole human history has ever said that honey.” Keith said helpfully and you looked out the window.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“The base.” Chloe said as if she was apologizing, “Dad wants to see you.”

You threw your head back and slipped a little on the leather seat.

“Great,” you muttered, “Tonight is getting better and better.”

***

Thankfully, General decided to let you go home after an hour of briefing. He had asked you whether you would like to be pulled out of other missions and instead just focus on Bucky but ignoring Keith’s glances, you had said no.

You had to prove yourself if you wanted to be a handler.

Thankfully it was Saturday so you could sleep until late and when you woke up, instead of going over the plans and rushing to the milkshake shop and coming up with strategy after strategy.

For some reason, you felt almost excited for your second date with Bucky. Maybe Chloe had a point, maybe you had to be extra careful not to lose yourself in your own cover. Just because you hadn’t had that problem before didn’t mean you could take it for granted.

You weren’t used to this kind of a mission. Not this long anyway, tricking a target was fine, it was expected but actually forming a relationship with them was much more complicated than a couple of lies here and there.

You clicked your tongue and tilted your head, looking in the mirror. You already knew Bucky would show up on his motorcycle, so you ditched the dresses and instead picked jeans and a nice blouse. When Chloe had first recreated your whole wardrobe for this mission, you whined for days but now you were slowly getting used to it.

Even though you were pretty sure you would never get used to the uniform.

Your phone started vibrating on the nightstand and you checked the caller I.D. before answering it.

“Hi!” you said, “Are you here?”

“Yes ma’am,” You could almost hear Bucky’s grin, “You ready?”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right there,” you said and hung up, then took a last look at your gun and put it beneath your pillow. Pushing your hair behind your ear, you locked the door behind you and made your way downstairs.

“Oh my goodness you were serious!” you said when you saw him leaning against a motorcycle and he looked you up and down, his face lighting up with a smile.

“Hi beautiful.”

Your stomach did a pleasant flip and you didn’t even have to fake mirroring his smile, “Hi,” you murmured and pointed at the motorcycle, “You were serious about that.”

“I was, but—“ he turned around to grab something from the top case on the motorcycle, then turned to you, holding a bouquet of flowers. You gasped and reached out to take them from him.

“As promised,” he joked as you buried your nose into the bouquet.

“Thank you,” you said, looking up at him before heaving a dramatic sigh. “Well, we had a deal. I’ll have to get on this deathtrap huh?”

“Oh if you’re the type to break deals, you don’t have to,” he taunted and you scrunched up your nose. “But where we’re going is a little away from here, just so you know.”

“Where are we going?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to explore the city?”

You nodded and stole a look at the motorcycle standing behind him, making him chuckle.

“You laugh now but if you drop me on the way—“

“I’m not going to drop you on the way.”

“Or if I die, I’m haunting you.” You pointed at him, “For the rest of your life.”

He nodded in a very solemn manner, “Deal.”

You placed the bouquet into the top case carefully and turned to him so that he could put the helmet over your head. The fond light in his eyes was impossible to miss as he fixed it and lifted the shield.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his hands still cradling the helmet and you grinned.

“Mm hm.” You said and got on the motorcycle after him, then wrapped your arms around his torso. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aftershave filled your nostrils, making you inhale and you adjusted your grip.

“Ready to do this?”

“Nope,” you said, making him laugh, “Let’s do it anyways.”

***

You had never been so good at dates. You always thought it was awkward and to be frank most of the time you felt like it was an unnecessary step to getting to know this person when you could just look them up or ask Chloe to do it for you.

Besides, the last time you had gone on a date it had ended up in what spies could get as close to a relationship as possible.

But now, much to your surprise you were actually enjoying yourself.

“Brooklyn!” you said, looking around, “Oh my God, I’ve wanted to come here for a while!”

“Have you?”

“Yeah!” you said, “Since I moved to New York. I saw it on um— I saw it on Gossip Girl.”

“Is that a magazine?”

“TV show.”

“Ah.”

“You grew up here right?” you asked and he nodded.

“Yeah! Yeah I grew up very close to this neighborhood actually.”

“Do I get to see it?”

He tilted his head, “Do you want to?”

“Yes!” you said, “It’d be fun, don’t you think?”

He hesitated only for a moment, “Right this way then,” he said and held out his hand. You bit down and smile and took it, then started walking beside him.

“There used to be a movie theatre there,” he motioned at one of the shops, “I was actually— I came around here right before I was shipped off.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm. We went to this Stark Exhibition, me and—“ he stopped talking and you looked up at him before it dawned on you.

Steve Rogers.

Of course. Figures.

You cleared your throat, desperate to pull him out of his own mind.

“I can actually see you growing up here,” you said, “And for some reason you’re wearing short pants and you have a cap? And you’re like running around with a newspaper under your— am I describing a movie? I think I’m describing a movie.”

“Weirdly enough, you’re actually right.”

Your jaw dropped, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah I had short pants and a couple of caps while I was growing up,” he said, making you gasp.

“Aww!”

“No, don’t.”

“That’s such a cute mental image!”

“Stop imagining it.”

“Tiny baby Bucky Barnes with his tiny little hat—“ you started but he pulled you closer to cover your mouth while still walking, making you let out a muffled laugh.

“Hey you should see my baby pictures, they’re a mess,” you said, “I have this picture with strawberry jam covering my face and my hair— oh, I’ve heard about this shop before! They make these famous bagels, do you want to take a look?”

“Sure, why not?” he said and followed you into the shop.

“Oh come on…” he muttered as he took a look at the menu board “Why does everyone put everything in food nowadays?”

You stifled a laugh and turned to the woman behind the counter, “I’ll get a cereal rainbow bagel and he will get something….classic.”

“We have plain bagel with cheese?”

“That sounds good. When exactly did people start eating lavender?” he asked you and you shrugged,

“Pretty recently I think,” you said and reached for your wallet but Bucky shot you a look.

“Don’t even think about it,” he quoted you and paid for the food, then you both grabbed the small paper plates and sat down on the small bar stools. You crossed your legs, turning to look at him better.

“I could let you try mine?” you taunted him and he chuckled.

“No thank you.” He eyed your bagel as if it was going to come alive any time. “I like the smell but…”

You tore a part of your bagel and put it on his plate. “Live a little Bucky Barnes.”

He held up the piece as if toasting you and you held up your bagel to touch his, giggling.

“So,” you said, “Could you rest last night? At least a little?”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, “I did.”

Right.

Of course he would lie, it wasn’t as if he could tell you—

“I just had to go outside for an hour but it was fine.”

Your eyes snapped up to his and you blinked a couple of times, taken by surprise at his honesty. It would’ve been so easy for him to flat out tell you a lie, but for some reason he chose against it. You knew he wouldn’t tell you the whole thing but the fact that he hadn’t brushed you off somehow made you feel all warm.

“Oh?” you asked, “Is—is everything okay? You were safe right?”

“Of course.”

You raised your brows, “Bucky.”

“There’s just this…crazy person I keep running into but it’s fine, no worries.”

Crazy person?!

You stared at him but you managed to pull yourself together and sat up straighter, picking at the cereal on top of the bagel.

“As long as you rested just a little, I still take that as a win,” you pointed out, making him smile.

“How about you?” he asked, “How was your night?”

I ran into you right after assassinating another member of HYDRA.

“It wasn’t as exciting as yours,” you took a bite of your bagel, “Surprising isn’t it? Here I thought I was the dangerously adventurous one.”

***

You were one hundred percent sure you were somehow doing this whole mission wrong. In fact scratch the mission, you were doing this date thing wrong.

You weren’t supposed to like it this much.

You had never enjoyed any of your earlier dates with other people this much. By the time you decided to go back, it was the middle of the night and you had spent the whole day together without even realizing it. It didn’t feel like it was a mission you had been put on, it almost—

It almost felt real.

You frowned at yourself, reminding yourself to keep your head in the game and got off the motorcycle when it stopped in front of the building your apartment was in. As soon as you took off your helmet, you started fixing your hair while he watched you with a smile on his face.

“I have a confession to make,” you said as you handed him the helmet for him to put it on the motorcycle.

“What is it?”

“There’s a slight possibility,” you said, bringing your thumb and pointer together close, “Very slight possibility that you may have been right about the motorcycle.”

“Oh was I now?” he asked, feigning surprise and you let out a giggle.

“Maybe,” you said, “I mean I didn’t die, that’s something.”

“That was an expectation?”

“That was a possibility,” you corrected him, “But I got on a motorcycle and you tried a weird bagel. As far as putting ourselves in dangerous situations on a second date, I’d say we’re even.”

“You know, thank you for acknowledging it,” he played along, “It was really intimidating at first, but I’d like to believe I pulled through in the end.”

“You did,” you said, “So proud of you. Maybe the next time you visit me at the shop, you can finally try Unicorn Cotton Candy.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said and shifted your weight, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you for today. I don’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”

“I’m glad,” he said with a smile, “Same here, aside from your quite disgusting taste in bagels, it was—”

“You didn’t like it?” you exclaimed and waved your hands in the air, “You know what, it’s fine. I have this strategy and you’ll—you’ll get there. We’re going to find something that is both completely modern and you like very much.”

“I think we already have,” he stated, his gaze locked in yours and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I’d hope so,” you replied, “Really.”

A silence fell upon you and you pushed your hair behind your ear.

“I should probably get going,” you pointed at the building with your thumb, “I have this very curious elderly neighbor, and trust me, she wouldn’t even wait for the morning to ask me about you if she saw us.”

“Oh we can’t have that, can we?” he said and you nodded your head, then gasped.

“Wait—Bucky, my flowers!” you said, “Give me my flowers.”

“Right,” he snapped his fingers and turned around to grab the bouquet from the top case, then paused.

“What?” you asked and he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep them in a very hot box whole day?” he asked and pulled out the bouquet, making you let out a whine at the sight. The flowers looked nearly withered and you took them from him, pressing your lips together.

“Okay, it’s not so bad,” you said as if trying to convince yourself, “It’s alright, I can fix this.”

“Darling I don’t think—“

“I can!” you insisted, “I’m gonna put them in water tonight or—or find some solution. I’m gonna google something, I’m pretty sure there are ways to save them.”

“Or I can just get you new ones.”

“That’s not how it works,” you pointed out, still holding the bouquet carefully over your chest as you assessed the damage, then looked up to find his eyes fixed on you.

“I’m—I should go now.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you moved for a moment before you took a deep breath, your heart slamming against your chest. You knew what your cover would or wouldn’t do, but somehow you had this urge that told you the situation probably called for your decisions, not your cover’s.

“Oh screw this,” you muttered as you stepped closer to him to stand on your tiptoes and pull him into a kiss.

Well, for you or your cover that felt like the best decision you had ever made on this mission.

He pressed you closer to his body, his hand cradling the back of your head and as if on cue, your stomach did a pleasant flip, giddiness filling your whole system. You rested a hand over his chest, feeling his fast heartbeat under your palm and let yourself get lost in the kiss until he pulled back slowly. A small giggle escaped from you as his arm around you got tighter, a smile lighting up his face.

“Well, you weren’t going to do it,” you commented, making him chuckle.

“I was waiting for the third date actually.”

“Oh how I’m glad the times have changed,” you said and caught the sight of the bouquet currently crushed between you two. You took a step back, tilting your head.

“Gosh, I don’t think I can fix this.”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure we just murdered them,” Bucky stated and you heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Worth it,” you grinned, “You win some you lose some.”

“New flowers next date, got it.”

A look of mischief crossed your face, “Deal. Good night Bucky.”

“Good night darling.”

You bit down a smile and made your way to the building, then hopped on the steps to get to your floor, somehow way too excited to get in the elevator and wait. As soon as you got into your apartment you leaned back to the door, closing your eyes.

Just your cover. You knew you had to act like your cover and that was why your heart was beating this fast, no other reason.

You pushed yourself off the door and stepped into the living room, still holding the flowers tight in your arms. You knew what you were supposed to do, back at the academy when you were being educated on seduction of the enemy, they always told you to draw the line between yourself and your cover. One of the easiest ways to do it was getting rid of every single thing your target would give you as a gift, keeping these gifts posed the danger of making you hesitant when it was time to bring the target in.

You couldn’t keep anything. You knew that.

It would be a rookie mistake.

You lingered on your steps, then approached the dinner table to touch the vase Chloe had put fake flowers in. You grabbed the fake flowers and pulled them out of the vase to throw them into the trashcan, then filled the vase to the brim with water and carefully placed the bouquet into it before putting it on the table again.

You were a professional spy. Keeping something as simple as flowers only for this one instance wouldn’t hurt anyone after all.

You were sure it would be fine.

You stepped back to take a look at the vase and shrugged your shoulders.

“My cover likes flowers,” you muttered to yourself and made your way to your bedroom.

Chapter 9

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #fatws #bucky barnes x you #marvel #burn the witch

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

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Storm

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Storms are the perfect weather for building forts, and Wanda’s going to make sure you don’t miss out on it.

A/N: I meant to get this out earlier, but then my arm turned into a human chicken wing (I know it makes no sense, you’re just gonna have to believe me)... anyway, I apologize for the delay, I hope you enjoy it!

Wanda woke to feel the bed shaking—no, scratch that. She woke up to feel the entire house shaking. The floors trembled, and the bedside lamp shook… Wanda braced herself to make sure none of the pictures on the walls fell down. As the thunder subsided, she relaxed slightly only to tense back up again at a loud whoosh. The buzzing that she was previously unaware of completely dissolved, leaving her in complete silence. Well, complete silence if she didn’t count the pounding of the rain against the windows, the howling wind, or the thunder that was bound to come back again. Sure enough, when she tried to turn on the lamp, no light appeared; the power had gone out.

A flash of lightning and a quick glance to her right told her that you were somehow still sound asleep. Your head was inches from her own, your own pillow forgotten and tossed to the side at some point during the night. No matter how far away the two of you were when you went to bed, as long as you were in the same bed, you somehow ended up using Wanda’s pillow instead of your own. And while some might find your hair tickling their nose or your soft snores right next to their ear to be annoying, Wanda thought it was nothing but angelic.

A catlike grin grew on Wanda’s face as she leaned over to wrap her arms around you. When you still didn’t stir, she began to press light kisses starting behind your shoulder and trailing up to your ear.

“Baaabe,” Wanda whispered. Her voice was both gentle and filled with urgency. “Malysh, wake up.”

“Huh? What’s going on?” With your sleepiness now turned bewilderment, you were able to notice how your girlfriend was trying and failing to stifle her giggles. “Wan, it’s still dark out,” you whined. “I’m sleepy.” You let out a huff and were two seconds away from throwing yourself back into the pillow when Wanda pulled you in to kiss the top of your head.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice muffled by your hair, “The power went out.”

“Okay. Night night.” The witch watched with a pout as you slid back down, a small grin playing on your lips as you closed your eyes.

“Detkaaa,” Wanda sang, poking your side lightly, “Let’s build a fort.”

“Okay,” you murmured, not paying attention enough to tell what you had agreed to. When you didn’t shift in the slightest, your girlfriend’s eyes narrowed. The romance movies had always promised her adventure, but here she was, ready and rearing to go, while the only adventure you were taking was from one side of the bed to the other, and not in a good way.

Had you been awake, you would have noticed how Wanda’s eyes lit up, the Cheshire cat grin returning as she realized how to get you up. The witch turned on her side, wrapping her arm around you. A low hum escaping from your lips told her that her plan was working; you thought she was going back to sleep. So, when a flash of lightning lit up the room and Wanda shot up with a gasp, you did too.

“Oh my god! Y/N, there’s a mouse!”

“What?! Where?” Arms slipping and legs flailing, you pushed yourself backwards into your girlfriend’s chest. You were too busy looking for the mouse to notice how your girlfriend was strangely unaffected by the presence of the rodent.

“Can we build a fort now?”

“Are you kidding me? Where’s the mouse?”

“Malysh… there’s no mouse. I just wanted to wake you up.” As much as Wanda wanted to give you an innocent look when you turned to look at her, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter at your raised eyebrows and gaping mouth.

“I hate you,” you muttered, closing your lips and narrowing your eyes at the still giggling witch. With that, you fluffed Wanda’s pillow and laid back down. Wanda watched you as you stared at the ceiling. You both knew you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon.

“So… the fort?”

“No.” Your girlfriend brought her fingers up to brush against the swell of your cheek.

“Pleeeeaaasseee?”

“No.”

“We can snuggle in the fort! And eat ice cream! And I’ll play with your hair after!” You knew she wasn’t going to give up until you said yes. To be fair, it sounded like a lot of fun, but you didn’t need her knowing that. So, with one big sigh and a dramatic eye roll, you slowly pushed yourself to sit back up.

“Fine. But none of this would be a problem if we just stayed in the Avengers Tower because the generator would be working.” Your girlfriend didn’t miss a beat as she jumped out of bed.

“Well, we’re not in the Avengers Tower, so we’re going to make a blanket fort. Now, come on.” She didn’t give you any time to go back on your answer, instead scooping you up in her arms and carrying you bridal style into the living room. She laughed at the squeak you let out before pressing a soft kiss to your browbone.

“I love you,” the brunette whispered.

“You’d better.” Now slightly less wary, you allowed yourself to melt into her arms. “It’s like 5 AM and you woke me up to build a blanket fort.”

“Actually, it’s 2:30…” Wanda barely moved in time as you shot upwards.

“2:30?! Wanda!”

“But, babe, the power is out! And it’s all stormy!” As if the world agreed with her, the walls trembled with another clap of thunder. “Perfect time to build a fort.” Your girlfriend set you down once you reached the living room, but you kept your arms wrapped around her, not letting her move away. “Malysh,” Wanda giggled, “You gotta let me go. We can cuddle once we build the fort.”

“‘S gonna take too long.” You buried yourself further into Wanda’s embrace, closing your eyes as she wrapped her arms around you.

“Cute, but…” You groaned as she pulled your arms off of her. “No more than thirty minutes. I promise.”

---

Unfortunately for you, Wanda was incorrect. One confusion-filled hour later, the two of you finally had the fort set up to Wanda’s liking (You couldn’t really care one way or another, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the absolutely adorable look of pride and glee on Wanda’s face when she clapped her hands together underneath her chin, sighing that, at last, the fort was perfect.).

The witch placed one hand on the small of your back to guide you in between the light blue cotton sheets that hung overhead—”It’ll be like the sky, detka!”—and the pillowy faux mink blankets that cushioned the hardwood floors. With a sleepy grin gracing your lips, you pushed yourself into the throw pillows the two of you had scavenged the house for to line the back of the fort and waited for your girlfriend to join you.

“See? Isn’t this nice?” the Sokovian exhaled as she wrapped an arm around your waist. She wasn’t wrong. The thunderstorms had yet to let up, and from Wanda’s strategic planning, the two of you had the perfect view of the rain hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights shining through the plump drops that rolled down the glass. Small camping lanterns lit the actual fort, and Wanda had even found some fairy lights to string along the top. You didn’t have much time to admire the view, though, because the second you rested your head on Wanda’s shoulder, the house shook again as another loud rumble of thunder boomed, and the entire fort came crashing down on your heads.

As tired as you were, neither of you could help but burst into laughter at the irony of the situation. “Oh, yes... this is perfect… Wan,” you managed to get out in between the contractions of your stomach as you giggled.

Someone could’ve taken the situation as a bad omen for your life together, overanalyzed it until they determined the two of you would never be fit for a future with each other in it, but for you guys, it was perfect; you could’ve stayed there forever, still wrapped in Wanda’s arms, the sheets now draped over your heads making it difficult for you to see anything but the lower half of Wanda’s face. But her laughter was the prettiest thing you’d ever had the privilege of hearing, her teeth sparkled as a beam of light from one of the lanterns managed to catch them, and you could just make out the beauty marks speckled across her face, the ones you loved to spoil with kisses until your girlfriend got impatient and guided your lips to hers.

When the two of you had finally caught your breath, you noticed a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, and the fort was reassembled in seconds. The remaining smile on your face immediately disappeared as you met Wanda’s eyes.

“Wanda, you couldn’t just do that the first time?”

“Nope.” The shake of her head was playful, though, which was more than enough to tell you what you needed to know.

“You totally could’ve.”

“Okay, maybe I could’ve, but it wouldn’t have been as fun.”

“Wan!” Your eyes narrowed further at her growing amusement, and you only relaxed slightly as your girlfriend brought you in closer to her side.

“Do you want your snuggles or not?”

“Yes please.” There was no way that you could’ve said no, especially now that you had already melted into the warmth of her embrace and sleepiness once again tugged at your eyelids. And so the two of you stayed that way for a while, with your legs draped over Wanda’s, your head resting on her shoulder and her head pressed against yours. In between the drawn-out blinks and heavy breaths, you managed to catch flashes of lightning and noticed how the flurries of rain would swell and fall repeatedly, never a consistent drizzle or downpour. Perhaps the one thing keeping you awake was the thunder. Wanda didn’t miss how you jumped slightly every single time it rumbled.

“You scared, printsessa?” your girlfriend murmured as she gently scratched your scalp in an effort to calm you down.

“Just a little startled is all,” you hummed sleepily as you pushed yourself further into her. “Could never be scared when you’re here.” Even though you were almost asleep, Wanda was quite awake, and she couldn’t help but smile at your sincerity.

“I love you,” she murmured with a kiss to your forehead.

“And I love you more.”

A comfortable silence settled itself between the two of you once again as Wanda went back to watching the storm and you played with her fingers. A thought came to you, and with you being as exhausted as you were, you barely noticed when it slipped through your lips and made itself known to Wanda.

“Wands, what would you say to having someone else to watch the storms with us?” It wasn’t until Wanda responded that you realized you had spoken out loud.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” The brunette pulled away from you slightly to study your face.

“Can we get a dog?”

“Yes! Of course!” All you could manage was a drowsy smile as Wanda cheered in excitement. “You have any ideas?” she asked after pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Hmm… maybe a bernedoodle? They’re really cute and really sweet.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” your girlfriend agreed. “Or maybe a-”

“And they have such cute eyes. Oh Wanda, the eyes.” Wanda paused as you let out a dreamy sigh.

“Malysh…”

“What?” You kept your gaze directed at Wanda’s fingers as you continued to fiddle with them because you knew you’d crack the second you made eye contact with her. Obviously, though, it was pointless since she had already figured you out.

“You got one already, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, fine,” you sighed. “Yes.”

“Printsessa, I love you, but we’re supposed to talk about these things together!” The continued presence of her warmth and her hand that had never left your waist told you that she wasn’t mad, and you were extremely grateful for that.

“I know, I know, but he was so cute, and I couldn’t say no, and you just had to be there, Wands! You wouldn’t have said no if you were there.” Wanda simply sighed, knowing that, as much as she’d rather not admit it, you were right.

“What’s his name?” she finally asked, resting her chin back on the top of your head.

“Storm.”

“You were really waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell me, huh? And how long have you known about this?” You shrunk slightly at the sternness that filled her voice.

“Maybe a couple of days…”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, maybe a couple of weeks. Or months.”

“Detka! So when is the dog getting here?”

“This weekend!” The witch’s head spun at how long you had managed to keep the secret from her. And while she loved the thought of getting a dog with you, she was certainly not expecting it to happen this soon, especially since you had only just brought it up minutes ago. But she couldn’t help but laugh when you responded with such excitement, your body perking up even though you were so close to dozing off in her arms. As excited as you were, you couldn’t help but tense up after sharing that with Wanda. She’d taken the initial news better than you expected, but this…

“You’re lucky I love you,” Wanda finally sighed, and it was with that that you were able to relax once again.

“What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

“Don’t push it,” the witch grumbled, and you two chuckled, rain still pounding down on the house and the storm just as lively as before.

---

It didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep with the burden you’d been carrying for months now spilled and accepted. Wanda continued to look mindlessly out the window, focusing for one moment on a particularly fat drop rolling down the window before switching to another. She thought about how you’d tensed up each time you revealed a new piece of the secret to her, and if she was being honest, it hurt her a little. She wanted you to be able to come to her with anything, trust her with anything, without having to feel guilty or ashamed. The witch pulled her eyes away from the window to watch your sleeping form.

“I’m always going to love you, malysh. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be sure to hold down the fort from now on, I promise. No more collapsing in two seconds.” With a final soft giggle and a kiss to your head, she allowed herself to rest. She’d keep her promise and prove it to you every day, multiple times a day; she was sure of it. And even though you didn’t hear her, that weekend, when the two of you started your life as a family of three, you knew it too.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter.

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area.

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major.

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it.

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing.

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it.

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security.

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger.

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on.

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency.

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid.

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head.

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.”

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed.

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point.

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint.

It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’.

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred.

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you.

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head.

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him.

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off.

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.”

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded.

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.”

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.”

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.”

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off.

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback.

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking.

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind.

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years.

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry.

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you.

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself.

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free.

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots.

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song.

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.”

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it.

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence.

“I’m sorry about your family, man.”

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body.

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you.

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously.

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward.

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood.

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him.

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.”

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him.

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.”

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly.

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder.

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.”

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply.

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you.

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser.

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse.

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you.

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.”

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.”

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery.

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <3

here’s a list of references/foreshadowing to the end all throughout the series!

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crazy-sevens · 3 years

Text

Writing Snippet #22

Well that was fast

Part one here

***

The villain sat at the restaurant, waiting. They knew the hero well enough by now to know that she usually lost track of time. It was okay. Now the villain had time to figure out how the whole night was going to go.

The restaurant was expensive. Expensive enough to put the hero on edge. They both would talk for a while, the villain learning as much as they could about the hero, and then he would make the big reveal. He felt the detonator at his side. Just a little insurance that the hero wouldn’t cause any trouble.

The villain smiled. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face. Of course the surprise all hinged on making sure she didn’t recognize him first. He would have to be careful.

It was a decent plan. Which of course meant that it wasn’t going to go like he thought it was. He knew that as soon as the hero walked in.

She looked . . . stunning. Her red dress perfectly accented her figure and highlighted her eyes. And her face. He wouldn’t have thought she would’ve looked that . . .

He didn’t really know how to finish that thought.

And despite what he had previously thought, she looked perfectly comfortable in this setting. She was confident. Of course the villain knew that. She was confident to the point of almost being cocky. But he had assumed that was an act for him.

Obviously not.

The villain realized that his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut. He couldn’t get distracted. Not now. He had to make sure she didn’t find out yet. He steeled himself as she walked over to his table.

***

The hero had known it was the villain the second she had seen his picture on the website a week previously. She could hardly believe it. The villain was on a dating website. All of these fights and mind games and one accident had given away his secret identity just like that. Of course it could be a fake name, but she had a face now. She could finally put him away for good. She could’ve just found him and stormed his house, but the plan that had formed in her mind was just too good to pass up. It seemed that some of the villain’s dramatic flair was wearing off on her.

The hero would show the villain the picture pretending to have no idea they were the same person. It was pretty funny watching the villain stare in disbelief. Knowing the villain, he wouldn’t pass up this opportunity either. He would let the hero believe it was someone else, all the while manipulating her to go on a date with him.

Of course the villain could know that she knew it was him, but he always underestimated her. And she could read the villain like a book. He didn’t know that she knew. He believed that he had the upper hand.

She was waiting outside the restaurant watching him. Getting everything in place. He had already escaped from when she had thrown him in jail a couple days ago. And when she had thrown him in jail a couple weeks ago. The police weren't reliable. She had her colleagues from her hero work to help her. She considered letting them just storm the place and taking him, but she wanted to go in herself. She would be giving up her secret identity, but it didn’t matter much. He wouldn’t be bothering her anymore.

She would have to be careful. She didn’t know what kind of plan he had set up yet. But she couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when she told him that she knew.

She walked in.

***

Her eyes wondered for a bit until they fell on the villain. She broke into a wide grin and walked over. She stuck out her hand. “You must be James.”

“You must be Cassy.” Instead of shaking her hand like she probably expected, he pressed it to his lips with a soft kiss. “You look beautiful.”

She raised an eyebrow, a blush coloring her cheeks. “A little old fashioned aren’t we?”

The villain shrugged, smiling. He could tell, despite her comment, that she enjoyed it. He had never seen her like that before. It was nice.

And it proved that his plan was working. She had no idea.

***

She knew exactly what he was doing. But she was at loathe to admit that the gesture had caught her off guard. She had blushed for real.

Damn him.

Always the charmer. She was a sucker for things like that.

“You look nice too,” she said.

Despite knowing immediately it was him from the picture, she still couldn’t quite believe she was looking at the same person. He had an innocent charm about him. His eyes and crooked smile were mischievous and almost boyish. He was . . . handsome.

She wondered if he actually thought she was beautiful.

Focus.

This was all fake. That smile was fake, those entrancing eyes were fake, and that complement was fake. All a part of his mind games.

She watched as he pulled her chair out for her. She laughed, glancing around. “You know this place might be a little too fancy for me.”

“You blend right in.” She took her seat and he took his. He smiled. “Gad I wasn’t catfished.”

“Same here.”

Yup, they had both gotten what they were expecting. Even if it was all teeming with deceit.

“So,” he started. “What do you like to do for fun?”

The hero shrugged, keeping her voice light. “I like to paint, but I have a . . . demanding job.”

And whose fault is that I wonder?

***

The villain resisted the urge to laugh at the irony of that statement, shoving down a pang of guilt he felt in his stomach. “Why is your job so demanding?”

The hero shrugged again. “It’s a complicated job. Everybody seems to need me to help them.”

Her answer was very vague. But he didn’t expect anything less, knowing how dangerous for her it would be if anyone found out who she was.

More irony.

She smiled, continuing on. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I can play the guitar.” He paused, waiting for her reaction.

She raised a brow, her eyes glittering with her trademark teasing humor. “Is that supposed to impress me.”

“I’ve heard that it impresses girls.”

She laughed. “Well it’s going to take a little bit more to impress me.”

He matched her raised eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Can you juggle?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, but your reaction was pretty funny.”

They were interrupted by the waiter asking for their orders. The villain usually ate light so he didn’t order much, the hero, however, was quite the opposite.

As soon as the waiter left, the villain raised his brows at her. “You sure do eat a lot.”

***

The hero held back a laugh. It must have been a while since the villain went out with someone. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The villain blushed. The hero felt a little surge of victory. Now they were even.

In actuality, the hero didn’t eat that much, but she might as well take a little advantage of her position. Call it payment for the villain always trying to kill her.

Their food came and the villain finished fairly quickly. Then after watching the hero eat all her food with wide, almost impressed, eyes, the villain sat in silence, his gaze thoughtful.

She was surprised she had let it go for this long. What was she waiting for? She felt her phone buzz at her side. It was probably her co-workers asking for the signal to move in.

What was he waiting for?

He probably had this whole speech planned, telling her it had been him all along. Was he just waiting to learn more about her? And why was every time she looked at him so disarming?

“So, besides guitar, what else do you do?” she asked.

“My job takes up most of my time too.” He gave his classic crooked smile. “We have a lot in common.”

The hero gave an uneasy chuckle. “One thing in common.”

The villain raised an incredulous eyebrow, but didn’t say anything more about it. His eyes fell on her arms.

“Where did you get those?”

Her eyes followed his gaze. Her scars.

***

The villain had hidden his. He had to. If the hero had seen that his cover would have been blown. But the hero displayed hers like a badge of honor. She didn’t hide.

But he knew this!

Why was he surprised when she was displaying traits he already knew? Maybe it was because when she was the hero those traits always annoyed him. They were always used against him. But now . . . Now it was different. Now he was starting to like appreciate those traits.

The comment had just sort of slipped out. He knew that it was impolite, but he was curious what kind of story she would make up about them.

“I’m a world renowned knife juggler.”

***

Well, it was better than the truth.

The truth that they both already knew. But if she was going to play the part she would have to lie about where she got them.

And it was the first thing she thought of.

He stared at her for a moment, then he just laughed. She fought back a smile. “What, you don’t believe me?”

His laugh died down. “I’m going to need a little proof.”

“How?”

“Why don’t you show me on our next date?”

***

He couldn’t spill the secret now. He had barely learned anything about her. No, he had to go on a couple more dates.

For leverage purposes.

He watched her eyes, searching for an answer. She hesitated for a moment, but then she broke into a wide grin. “Yeah, why not? Maybe you can play me a song too.”

***

It was probably a trick. Most likely a trick. But while he was tricking her, she would be tricking him.

Trick inception.

She needed more information. She couldn’t give up her best card now. Just a couple more dates.

Then he was going down.

Part three here

#part two #they are both so similar its hilarious #they have no clue #villain x hero #hero x villain #villain and hero #hero and villain #this was a fast one #couldn't resist #not a prompt #creative writing #writing snippet

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worldoshaking · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on ROTRK Episode 2 (some spoilers for later events)

This is a bit nitpicky, but I always thought it was pretty important that Margaret’s humiliation of the Duke of York takes place in public. In Shakespeare and in the manga she jeers at him in front of the soldiers; that’s the biggest part of the humiliation, seeing him brought low in front of his would-be subjects. It’s very, very calculated, to capture everyone’s attention and make sure people know who’s in power and what happens to those who defy them. Seeing it happen quietly and in private suggests that Margaret is just being cruel for the fun of it, and that’s not really what this is about at all. It’s also really important that his sons hear exactly what happened to him; that’s a big part of why Richard is so furious.

Sidenote: as a Shakespeare fan, I loved the manga’s use of ‘despair and die’ here; this is a phrase that haunts Richard to his final nightmare, where, in Shakespeare, he hears his victims say ‘despair and die.’ Its use as a repeated refrain in the manga really brings home that Richard III is a tragedy from start to finish; Richard will never shake off the dreadful echo of the words that accompanied his father’s death. In the anime so far he hasn’t heard the phrase, but that gives it a dramatic irony that I think is fun too. This is just me being a Shakespeare nerd; I haven’t read that far in the manga yet, but I’m certain that Aya Kanno knew what she was doing and this will pay off.

I also think the blood-stained handkerchief scene was much more effective in Shakespeare because the story about the blood of his youngest son was true, and we knew it to be true, and York knew it to be plausible; that really captures the degree of pettiness that Margaret is capable of. (To clarify, this is a different younger son, who doesn’t exist in the manga.) Not to mention the gorgeous, twisted mockery of the paper crown; the crown of thorns simply cannot compare. In Henry VI Part 3, it’s also a powerful reason why the house of York are so driven to fight against Lancaster, in revenge for the death of their innocent younger brother. But I can see why the manga made this choice, to tighten up the narrative and centre it around Richard and the characters who play a role later. It’s part of a larger divide; in Shakespeare most characters (and especially younger sons) are just players in a game that is largely not about them, until Richard steps forward and makes it about him. In ROTRK, Richard is the main character from the start, and a lot of the events and character relationships revolve around him to a degree that’s sometimes hilarious in contrast. (Richard III but it’s a harem manga)

I thought it was a bit weird that the anime had Margaret publicly lament her lost William, in a world where fights over succession often hinge on rumours about illegitimacy. I can’t see her saying something like that out loud, on a battlefield, where anyone could hear her and spread rumours about Edward (especially given that we learn later in the manga that such rumours are already in existence). No matter how much she yearns for her lost Hastings, I don’t think she would do anything that could harm Edward’s chances of succession. Not that there were a lot of people around to hear her, but the way the scene is framed suggests that it’s a normal thing for her to do (no-one seems to react at all). It also just makes it more... well, comical.

These are little things, but I do think that both these scenes are somewhat crucial, in the sense that Margaret’s queenhood is very much about playing to the crowds. She is very, very public as the Lancaster queen, as a figure to be feared and revered. She’s also very watchful when it comes to politics; all her actions centre around being queen, playing the role of the queen correctly, and making her son the future king, to a degree that makes her do horrific things to Henry and Edward and to other people. She’s not unhinged and furious, she’s callous and calculating. This is a very important distinction, which sets the stage for how important politics are in this world, and some of the things Margaret does later.

These things aside, I enjoyed the episode! I thought the chronology and pacing made a lot more sense than in the first episode, and the use of colours continues to be haunting and effective. The voice acting is excellent, especially Richard’s VA. I look forward to next week, the next chapter has some of my favourite art in the manga so I’m very excited to see it animated!

#rotrk thoughts #rotrk spoilers #requiem of the rose king #baraou no souretsu #liveblogging #rotrk anime #tw violence #i'm working off scattered recollections of both manga and play here so i might be wrong #mostly remember bernard hill as york in the bbc henry vi... god that haunts me to this day #rotrk meta

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caterpellas · 4 years

Text

munich nights • harry styles

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (oral m recieving)

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut

pt 1/? (two is here) word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing in like a year so some feedback would be amazing, pls be kind and show some love to my crumby attempt lol

chapter playlist :D

harry.

he was sort of your anchor. unspoken, of course, that he had taken such a high profile role in your life. he didn’t need to know, to know. you were certain it worked in reverse, that you grounded him just like he did for you.

you’re not sure of the timestamp on the beginning of your friendship, sometime 3 years ago after mindlessly chatting in a shoreditch bar, at the sort of venue you were both cackling over after a couple of overpriced gin and tonics.

“i’m not sure why i came here, it really isn’t my scene,” you said after calming your laughter down.

“me neither. i’m not all that into £18 cocktails made with organic fruit juice,” he jested back, although you felt a hint of sadness in the next, “it makes me miss home.”

after that you clicked instantly.

you both bonded over being musicians; your styles contrasted entirely though. his band, who you met a few occasions later, were the antithesis to yours. mitch and sarah looked and sounded like they were fresh from a 70’s pop rock band, whilst your bassist and drummer, both twins, had buzzed heads and black dr martens on 24/7. the differences between you and him didn’t matter in the slightest. which is why, after 18 months of building the strongest friendship you’d had in your life, he asked you and your band to come on tour with him.

touring with your best friend and now biggest fan was the single greatest experience of your life. you would admit to the apprehension you first felt about opening for harry as your music wasn’t exactly in keeping with his genre- you were a little grungier then his soft style. i suppose the opposites between you is what enhanced everything about your relationship, musically and personally. in articles harry was always praised for his effeminate fashion choices, and since gaining some recognition as his opener, the articles were now mentioning how you dressed too, hyping up your more boyish, ‘can’t be bothered’ clothing taste you’d developed over your years in the band. your shoes were always chunky and platform, your top or bottoms usually oversized and always with the same thick chain around your neck. to some, your style seemed intimidating but it couldn’t be further from the truth. harry knew that best of all.

3 months into the tour now, you had made it to munich for the 1st night of your european portion of the tour. you and harry were sat next to one another on the plane, sharing an earpod each, playing music from your playlist titled “h”. you hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight, after reading a particularly disturbing article about harry’s recent paparazzi shots. “harry styles’ player ways making a comeback?” it read, and pictured him with a couple models you’d met in new york together after going out for the night. you couldn’t place why but the article made you feel sick. you put it down to seeing such a close friend’s name slandered in the press, and you hoped he hadn’t read it yet. harry was often disheartened after reading the gossip people like to spread about him, occasionally involving you as well.

“you seem very deep in thought.” harry’s morning voice could be heard over the sound of steely dan in your ears. turning to him, one of his eye’s peering at you, you reply, “not really- just thinking about the set list.”

“you need to switch off your work brain sometimes,” he grins up at you, “have a little more fun! munich will be great, lots of beer to try.”

“of course that’s what you look forward to most. you know munich is filled with some beautiful architecture and history right?”

“that’s great and all, but you know what else they have?” harry questions you and you shake your head.

“oktoberfest.”

you arrived at your airbnb not long after- harry’s band and yours all preferred staying in a large house or apartment then some posh hotel that didn’t feel quite as welcoming. harry’s manager picked the place out, opting for a villa that sleeps 10 people, filled to the brim with oak panelling and a big fire place in the centre of the room. there was a hot tub outside that would probably never be used in your short stay there. the kitchen had a large island in the middle and a big aga keeping the place warm in the late september weather. his manager really outdid herself this time.

“this is place is so beautiful,” you still weren’t over all of the beautiful places this tour had taken you, the short time you’d been travelling had been a sensory overload.

“you’ll really like munich, y/n,” harry said yawning, grabbing both your shoulders from behind. his touch took your mind back to the article.

“harry,” you started, reluctantly turning to face him, “i know it’s none of my business who you, you know- fuck, but i was just wondering what happened with those models after i left?” harry’s calm expression never faltered as he answered, “me and camila kissed in the taxi but then i went back to the hotel. why?” you didn’t have the strength to answer honestly, and tell him it was because the thought of him having a threesome with two supermodels made you physically wretch, but you felt an obligation to give him a somewhat truthful answer.

“i saw an article about it, the paps caught a glimpse of it,” you white-lied. if you were going to be honest with yourself, the reason him with people like camila and gina bothered you so much is because of the way you compared yourself to them. you were overall confident, you were proud of your style and “gives no fucks” attitude you’d built up over the years, but these were literal models. women who were paid, like paid a lot, because they were beautiful. harry’s dating history has had a lot of women you could never measure up to be as good as and that was a real confidence breaker.

“well anyway, are you ready for tonight’s show? we were thinking it would be cool if you guys came on with us and...”

harry, as per usual, performed with all of his heart and soul and yet again amazed you. he had been doing this for three months, playing at least three shows a week and his energy levels were still unmatchable. you were back in your dressing room, taking off your stage clothes and putting on an almost identical outfit, wiping the sweat off your brow and upper lip. the monitor in your room played harry’s set, and you had to find any way you could to distract yourself from his performance before you ended up fantasising about the way his sweaty curls cling to his neck and how you wished he was sweating like that just for you, for an entirely different reason.

“thank you so much munich!” you hear harry’s accent through the small tv, and look up to see him panting and grinning, before running off stage. you had no idea why, but tonight there was a small amount of nervousness about you. since reading the article, you’ve had to address the gnawing idea that you could possibly have feelings for harry that were more than just your deep set friendship. would you act differently about the man you loved more than anyone in this world? you didn’t want things to change- they were perfect with him. he’d jest with you when you became too much of a perfectionist about your latest song, telling you to stop thinking so hard or you’ll have an aneurysm. if people commented on his style or yours, he’d laugh it off and tell everyone he’s “the woman in the relationship” sarcastically, and you’d be in awe at how he essentially said a huge “fuck you” to gender norms. he made you comfortable being you and you coveted his ability to be so happy being him. the thought of this bond being broken frightened you to your core. the knock at your door was a good signal for your thoughts to end.

“you coming y/n?” the group of you were all headed to a german beer bar, since harry was so eager to try the world famous pilsner. finding a large lounge space with sofas inside the bar, you all sat and ordered a round, celebrating a good night’s work.

“to the first night in europe,” you toasted, “cheers!” all your glasses clinked together and the nervous feeling started to fade finally. sat next to harry, you discussed the tour so far, he told a story about being in one direction and it reminded you of a hilarious story from when you were 15, when you used to listen to emo music and swore how much you hated one direction, and they all laughed at the irony. if you had told your 15 year old self this was where you’d be at 21, you’d have snorted and laughed till you cried. but life works out in strange ways and you wouldn’t change it for a second. a few drinks in and any of those nervous feelings about what harry was to you had evaporated like alcohol till you eventually had to remind yourself that whilst your hand was on harry’s knee, it meant nothing. and the way he leans forward to you as he laughed at your not-so-funny joke. but those reminders were getting weaker the more his touch started to linger after he went to go and grab his pint the same time you did.

“we really must stop meeting like this,” he jokes as your hand rubs against his for the 50th time that might and you laugh at him because your afraid if you don’t play it off as a joke you’ll lean over and kiss him. you find yourself in need of a distraction from his low buttoned shirt and endless black ink drawn across his chest that you can see in high definition when your this close to him.

“i’m going to get another round,” you exclaim dramatically, telling yourself more than the rest of the group. making your way over to the bar, you can feel harry’s vision bearing into your back as you lean against the counter to get service.

“another round of pilsners on the table’s tab please,” you ask as soberly as you can. you’re not off your face yet, but the alcohol is definitely present, surrounding the corners of your vision.

“i’d rather by you a drink.” a slightly german accent crowds your ears and you look over to see a man, not all that different to some of the guys in harry’s band, smirking at you.

nervous, you reply, “no you don’t need to do that we have a tab here.”

“i insist.” afraid to be impolite you quietly thank him, and turn back to the bar. you can’t even think of chatting to guy at a bar whilst the man you love is sat so close by. even though it’s not returned, the pain of giving him up to flirt with a stranger is too much to bare.

“so what brings you to a local’s bar like this one?”

“me and my friends are working here for the night.”

“just here for the night? such a shame,” his smile, although attempting to seem unthreatening, is making you uncomfortable. the bartender seems to be taking forever with your order.

“i’m staying in a hotel a few minutes away, come and join me and their bar for a real drink?” your heart was pounding. you rarely got hit on so you were a little out of practice on how to deal with persistent assholes like these ones.

“i can show you how the germans like to do it.” that was it- he’d gone too far and you were so embarrassed by this point you were too humiliated to even reply to him. your neck was getting hotter and you could feel your cheeks reddening.

“you okay?” harry’s voice took you out of your panic-stricken state, “you were taking a while.”

turning to harry and preparing to tell him how this man won’t get the message, the german creep pipes up, “she’s fine mate. we were just discussing a date.”

“listen mate, i suggest you back off. alright?” harry grabbed your hand, tightly, and guided you out of the bar.

“harry where are we going?” you could barely comprehend what had happened in the last five minutes to even realise he was hailing a taxi.

“back to the house. i’ll text the others.”

“harry i’m fine honestly it’s no-“

“who said i was fine? i wanted to leave and i thought maybe you did too.” he was angry, which wasn’t something you saw in harry often. he was a happy guy, and optimistic about most things in life.

“is this because of that guy?”

“of course it is y/n.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise he’d be an assho-“

“why’re you apologising?”

this shut you up. you didn’t know why. this wasn’t the first time a guy had been slightly predatory towards you and you doubted it would be the last. after the first couple times your in situations like this you tend to see yourself as the problem and not the guys doing it.

“i don’t know, harry.” you climbed into the cab together and harry gave them the address, seeming somewhat cooled off from earlier. your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the fact that harry had essentially rescued you from what could have been a scary situation.

“harry?”

“yeah, y/n?”

“why did you kiss camila?” alcohol had made you more outspoken and you asked the question that had been driving your nervous energy all night.

“why are you asking?”

a little more honestly then last time, you answered, “i’m just curious.” harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the question. his whole demeanour had shifted entirely from earlier. he was close and warm with you, the friend you’d become addicted to being with. now he was closed off and moody- a rare sight for anyone who knew him well. you could have picked a better time to ask the question, of course, but you had to know. you had other questions too, like why he was so angry right now, and why did he care that i was chatting with a guy at the bar, even if he was a creep.

“because she wanted to kiss me and i wanted to kiss her. the same reason most humans kiss,” there was a slight element of humour back in his voice now.

“and that was it?”

“yep.”

“hmm.” you tried to ponder this, but your attention span was limited when you were this inebriated. your thought process had quickly moved from harry’s sex life to harry in general and his outfit of the evening- a personal favourite. he’d worn white cream trousers with a vest top and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, along with the necklace you’d given him last christmas. you could see his two swallows peaking from the straps of his wife beater and your mind wandered to the thought of having your mouth against them. against all his tattoos, individually placing a kiss on each and everyone that you had grown to fall in love with.

you remembered the memory of harry coming with you to get your largest tattoo, a greek statue on your upper arm.

“harry you know this isn’t the first one i’ve gotten?” you laugh at how hard he was clutching your hand in the chair next to your seat.

“i know but i’m so excited for you. i want you to know i’ll be sat here the whole time to hold your hand,” he squeezes your hand to emphasise his point.

“harry i’m getting another tattoo not going into life-altering surgery.”

but inside, you were squealing at his words.

“y/n?”

harry’s less chipper current voice took you out of your memory and back to the cab in munich.

“you’ve been staring at my chest for a couple minutes,” his brows were furrowed as he studied your face.

“i want to lick it.” if someone had asked you why you answered with that, you genuinely couldn’t give them a good answer. alcohol didn’t do much to you, except allow you to have fun, and lose any sense of a filter. now was a perfect example of the effects. harry’s eyes widened at your candour- and so did yours. his calm expression only faltered for a few seconds though, before it returned to his neutral, warm face.

“what else?”

“i-uh- what?”

“what else were you thinking about?” your heart was beating so loudly you were sure harry could feel it across in his seat. why was harry asking this? you didn’t want him to know about your thoughts- they were far too embarrassing and far too private.

“i was thinking about all your tattoos,” you confessed.

“i was thinking about yours too.” you thought about all of your tattoos and remembered the dog rose you had on the back of your thigh, as well as the koi carp on your hip bone.

“which ones?”

“the flowers and the fish.” you gulped, knowing he was thinking of your most risqué tattoos.

harry, unusually, was completely serious as he said, “i thought about licking yours too.” you didn’t know where you stood with harry now. you were sat in a taxi, having the conversation with him that you thought would never happen. he wants you the same way you want him. he may not want you the same way a nagging voice told you. he could just be looking for an easy fuck, and you thought to yourself that even if that was all he wanted, you’d still give yourself to him.

“harry-“

“maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, yeah?” you felt like you could cry- how could he not want to talk, and you were on tour together? this was the most gut wrenching feeling to have him tell you not to talk anymore. harry studied your face as you lip began to quiver, “jesus y/n i meant about the current conversation. of course i want to keep talking to you, i love you- you know, like a friend.”

“like a friend?” you couldn’t ever begin to describe how your heart felt like it fell to the pit of your stomach whilst the acid slowly burnt it away. friends is it. harry isn’t yours to have and he never will be, he just had to remind you in words of this.

“well we’re both a little drunk and clearly turned on- maybe just this once it could be more than friends? just for tonight, i mean?” harry’s clear green eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, and he seemed, i’m not sure, hopeful? as if on cue, the taxi took you back to your villa which was warmly lit from inside and you felt a nervous excitement crawl up your arms and legs at what could possibly come next. harry gave the driver the cash and you dashed quickly to the door of the house, the cool september air cutting through you both dressed inappropriately for the time of year. it dawned on you that your outfit- a big vintage men’s shirt with your oldest and favourite pair of dr martens with sheer tights- wasn’t the wisest choice. harry fumbled with unlocking the door and opened it to find the fire lit and the lights dimmed. it was more romantic than either of you would ever mention out loud but it felt like the house was routing for you. you weren’t sure where harry wanted this to go next, the air beginning to stiffen and feel awkward.

turning to face him, you started, “harry i-“ his lips met yours in an instance and any of the awkwardness left in the room had been dissolved by harry’s soft kiss. he tasted good, despite the beer you’d both been drinking and had you not been intoxicated by the pilsner and harry’s gentle touch, you’d probably care about things like breath. harry grabbed you by the shoulders, much like he did earlier that same day, and guided you into the room further, finding the large sofa and pushing you onto it. falling back, you glanced up at his towering figure. harry was already tall, but his powerful presence added a less literal height to him, and his shadow looked over you. you couldn’t help but stare at him as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, exposing some of your favourite tattoos of his. you got to your knees so that you were closer to his body and you finally relaxed in his presence, touching all the places you’d dreamed about. your hands raked up his torso to his chest and his head leant down to kiss you again. his lips were perfect and seemed made to be against yours so tightly, and made for the crook of your neck as well as they kissed and sucked there too. the fire in the corner of your eyes illuminated the small amount of gold in harry’s hair and he looked as angelic as he always did in your dreams.

“am i better than him?” harry murmured against your neck. the question caught you off guard. he’d only known one other person you’d had a sexual relationship with since you two became friends and that was a sound tech from one of his old touring groups that you had a small fling with. him and harry never got along and harry even accused him of purposely messing his sound up during a performance once. harry has walked in on you giving him head in your dressing room once and it was incredibly awkward but you both moved past it.

“who are you talking about?”

“you know, that arsehole sound tech from the american tour. do i kiss you better than him?” you could hear the layers to his voice- he was asking with a confidence that you felt straight in your core, but there was another layer to it- insecurity.

“god yes,” you gushed, he had to at least know how he physically made you feel even if you can’t admit your feelings, “you kiss far better then he ever could.”

an idea came into your head at this, “in fact, i bet you’ll feel better in my mouth then he did.” harry jaw slacks slightly and you give him a shy smile. talking like this wasn’t something you ever tried when you were having sex, but harry made you want to be honest. it was the closest you could get to confessing your love to him, and you’d take what you could get from harry right now. stunned into silence, you continue to undress harry, removing his vest to expose his lean stomach and small trail of hair from his belly button, that you kissed all the way down. he let out a sharp breath as soon as you got to the top of his pubic bone, and you finally noticed just how hard harry already was. with a little fascination, you dared to take it to the next level and cupped his length through his trousers, causing harry to groan at the contact. he felt big in your small hand, you couldn’t wait to reveal him, impatiently struggling with his zipper.

“woah, y/n, slow down,” harry puts a finger under your chin and you look up under your lash at him, knelt below him. his smile is a classic harry smile and for a brief second this feels like more than a casual fuck.

“you’re still wearing too much clothing.” harry bends slightly to get to the bottom of your shirt and speedily pulls it over your head, revealing your black cotton bralet and tights. harry’s mouth watered at the sight of you in nothing but your underwear and boots, your long hair falling in messy waves around your minimally tattooed arms. your sure your black eyeliner is smudged and your gloss practically jin existent but harry’s eyes make you feel like he wants nothing more then to fuck you.

“that’s much better,” he smiles again at you, and you take that as a good cue to continue on his member. eagerly, your hands go straight back to his flies, rapidly undoing them and letting his loose fit trousers fall from his hips, exposing his form fitted boxers and you get a much better idea of just how big harry’s cock really was. without realising you mumble, “i want you in my mouth so bad,” under your breath.

“fuck say that again.”

looking under your lashes again, you repeat, “i want your cock in my mouth so bad.” harry groans as his eyes roll back, his words almost being enough without your touch. but your hand still went back to his dick, pulling it out from the restraint of his boxers. it was thick and bigger then you had been with before. without missing a beat, your hand pumped him a few times, and his hips reacted instantly. as if beckoning for your lips to surround his cock, his hips thrust towards you again, and you obliged, licking and then parting your wetted lips for the head of his dick. the pre-cum touched your tongue and it urged you to take more of him further, swiping your tongue on the underside as you push more in. harry moans, gripping your scruffy hair in his large hand, and had to restrain from pushing your mouth around his whole length. as your mouth got acquainted with him, you started to move up and down the length, as harry’s moans got higher and louder.

“y/n your mouth is fucking magic.” the praise went straight to your clit and your underwear was dampening at the knowledge of the dirty things your mouth was doing.

“can you- fuck- can you grab my balls?” you responded immediately and cupped them lightly whilst continuing to bob your head on his cock.

“didn’t know you could you use your mouth for such dirty things, y/n. do i fill you better then he did?”his jealousy fuelled you to go even quicker, this time switching up to concentrating on his swollen head, your tongue lapping against it feverishly, whilst your hand pumped the rest of him. the combination of your hand and mouth was enough to drive harry insane.

“you do so good y/n, i’m gonna cum soon okay?” you release him from your mouth, and keep stroking him, eager for him to orgasm. you couldn’t describe the desperation you had to see the way he looked as he climaxed. if you were to die after this, you knew you would die happy, if only to have seen harry in that state of euphoria that only you could bring him to.

“fuck y/n i’m gonna cum,” harry pants, his thighs tensing and his eyes glazing over. you aim him over your chest and feel his load fall all over your breasts, soaking your bralet as he lets out a breathy moan. his breathes are loud and aside from the fire crackling are the only noise filling the space of the living room. you let his now soft cock go and fall back onto the sofa, too tired to think about all of what just happened, the only thought on your mind is of harry’s moans on repeat. your chest is sticky but you’re too exhausted to care. harry has slowly crept over to sit next to you on the sofa, and you’re unspokenly thankful he hasn’t distanced himself afterwards.

“i need to clean you up.” harry disappears as quickly as he arrived and comes back with a warm flannel. wiping your chest, you watch his face as his brows furrow delicately on his forehead and his mouth is slightly crooked in concentration. you loved every single portion of his face, and suddenly it meant something different. you had seen his face at it’s most real and vulnerable and you had that memory forever.

unfortunately moments like the one you and harry had finally shared don’t last forever, and once harry’s done wiping your breasts off, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, grabs his clothes and leaves you on the sofa.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #friends to lovers #bestfriend!harry #fine line album #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles icons #harry styles one shot #writing #one direction smut

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krappykawa · 4 years

Text

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.5)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

warnings. language

word count. 4.6k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. second to last part 😼😼 idk if you could call this angst but whatever it is will end next chap bc next chap will probably be teeth-rotting 😄

previously ...

“ You can feel Hanamaki stand straighter and you’re sure that he has the stupidest triumphant grin on his face. “No. Not until you stop crying over captain pretty face.”

“Y/N-chan’s crying over who now?”

You feel Makki freeze in the middle of his marching. Awkwardly, you turn to see Oikawa’s figure at the door from your position thrown over Hanamaki’s shoulder. You forgot that he was the only one that doesn’t knock.

Something in Oikawa’s expression is odd.

“Makki, fix this or I cut off your dick,” you whisper into his ear. He gulps.

“Oh, hey Shittykawa. We’re just helping Y/N with her captain pretty face problems,” Hanamaki says. You already don’t like the way that this is heading.

“Who … exactly is .. captain pretty face?” Oikawa’s eyes are on you. The irony of the nickname is not lost on you. You can only hope that the words that come out of Hanamaki’s mouth next are not the words you’re dreading.

“Don’t worry. You’re not captain pretty face. Kaoru is!” The world does not seem to be on your side.

Oikawa’s smile drops and suddenly you have the urge to cut Makki’s dick off anyways, because he just made this a lot, lot worse. “

“Ah, so I’ve been replaced by another captain pretty face? Y/N-chan I’m wounded!” Oikawa closes the door behind him as he laughs, but the sound is hollowed and not at all what a genuine laugh of his sounds like. You shoot a look to Iwaizumi, but find that he’s scrutinizing Oikawa in the same way that you were just moments ago.

With a light punch to his back from you, Makki slowly sets you back down onto your feet. You lift a hand to tidy your hair.

“Makki’s lying. He’s just being a pain in the ass,” you reply. In saying that, you’re well aware of the fact that you’re potentially diving into dangerous territory. It would be too easy for Oikawa to decide that he wants to know more and possibly ask you the questions that you’re so dreading, but there’s something wrong about having him believe that you actually like Kaoru that you find more dreadful than potentially having to tell him about your year-long love for him.

Oikawa sets his bag down next to a bin full of his things that he’d left over the years before turning back to look at you. The expression he meets you with is almost off-putting. The corners of his mouth are flicked upwards in what might be disapproval, but his eyes reflect something else - something akin to regret. “Is he really? I mean you have been spending quite a bit of time with Kaoru-kun as of late, haven’t you?”

His voice sounds like it’s dripping with lies, though you can’t quite understand why that’s so because he technically wasn’t lying. You decide that maybe you've just gotten so used to the realness of Oikawa that you forget that his natural tongue is fluent in lying. The only people that have ever been able to see right through his tone are all standing in this room.

Inevitably, you find your eyes flicking to Makki’s. Oikawa notices. You see the facade drop the mildest bit.

“I don’t. You know that you would be the first to know if I did,” you say. It’s true. Growing up, he’s always been the first to know about your crushes, no matter how small. He’s known about all crushes, except for one. Him himself.

Something changes in his expression then. It’s a miniscule change - the slight upward tip to his lips that makes the almost imperceptible indent of a dimple peak out - but you’re so attuned to him that you know that means that his smile is genuine. “I’ll hold you to that Y/N-chan. Don’t you go around replacing me.”

The air in the room seems to sigh in relief. You turn your eyes away from him when you feel yourself start to smile. You don’t want to give Makki, Mattsun, or Iwaizumi anything to make fun of you for later on.

“Cut the dramatics in front of them. It’s like you’re asking to get made fun of,” you say instead.

Oikawa just shrugs. “According to Iwa-chan, just having this face is already asking to get made fun of, so there’s really no big difference.”

Iwaizumi snorts from his position on the couch. “I said that your face when you look dumb is asking to get made fun of, but it’s good that you’re self aware.”

Oikawa sticks a tongue out at him.

“As mature as always captain,” Mattsun says.

Oikawa flicks his gaze to Matsukawa before he says, “Hm, that reminds me. Y/N-chan please accompany me to the kitchen.” He’s already walking to the kitchen without waiting for a response.

You exchange looks with Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki. Hanamaki has the decency to look apologetic. You make hand motions at him that elicits a chuckle from Matsukawa.

When you enter the kitchen, Oikawa has a cup of ice and a handkerchief sitting on the counter. He’s carefully dropping a few ice cubes into the middle of the handkerchief.

“What’s that for?”

He’s quiet as he finishes and wraps the handkerchief around the ice. “Close your eyes,” he says softly as he walks towards you and presses the cold ice against your eyes. “You were crying before I got here.”

You stay quiet. Of course he noticed.

“What happened? Are you sure Makki was lying? You can tell me you know, if something happened with Kaoru.”

You let out a breath and allow the cold of the ice against your eyes ease you into a lie. “I wasn’t crying over Kaoru. They just found out that he walked me home today and decided to roll with it. I’m really just exhausted from classes.”

The hand that Oikawa was using to dab at your eyes suddenly stops. “Kaoru … walked you home? From the bakery?”

Slowly, you let your eyes flutter open, your puffing eyes already missing the cold of the ice against your eyelids. Oikawa’s eyes are trained on you, and you get that odd feeling that he’s searching you for answers. You’ve found that he’s been doing that a lot as of late - this whole reading instinct he uses for people he’s just met. You still aren’t used to him using it on you.

You flick your eyes away from his and break the eye contact. Instead, you look at his hand and reach up to take the ice pack from him. He hands it to you gently and takes a step back. You watch him as he clears his throat and moves to disappear behind the fridge door.

“Yeah, he did walk me home,” you pause, debating with yourself about telling him. “I think he came to ask me on a date, actually.”

You think you imagine Oikawa’s body stopping mid-movement. “Did you say yes?”

“No. He asked if I was free today. I told him that I already made plans with you four.”

“Oh,” Oikawa says as he pulls out a cup of mint chocolate chip.

“Yeah.”

As he makes himself busy with finding a spoon, you lean against the counter and continue to press the ice against your eyes. Oikawa sneaks a glance at you. “If he asked again, and you didn’t have plans. Would you say yes?”

His voice is unnaturally quiet. You aren’t sure what to do with that knowledge.

“Probably not. I broke up with him for a reason.”

A noise of agreement comes from Oikawa. “You said that you two didn’t click.”

“We don’t.”

A comfortable silence engulfs you two as Oikawa leans against the counter next to you. You try not to watch him as he takes a bite of ice cream and unintentionally smiles, his eyes looking serene for the first time in a while. Instead, you make yourself busy with alternating the ice pack between your eyes, though now you were mostly just doing it so that you had something to do other than get the urge to stare at him.

After a moment, Oikawa speaks again. “I still don’t believe for one second that you were only crying because of school.”

You let the hand holding the ice pack finally fall to your side. “Well you better believe it then because it’s the truth.”

“Maybe. But I get the feeling that it’s a half truth.”

“Half truths aren’t all bad.”

“So I’m right.”

You make yourself busy with throwing the ice into the sink as you scramble your head for a decent lie. “Bad day at the bakery. I fucked up the honey buns.”

Oikawa hums. “So now it’s a two-thirds truth.”

The other third is that I’m in love with your dumbass and you’ll never know.

“That’s it. Promise.”

Oikawa switches tactics. “Y/N-channn. You’re lying to me.”

“Tooruuuu. I’m not lying to you,” you say as you roll your eyes.

“Yes you are. You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Tapping your right middle finger on your thigh.”

“I do that?” You look down and find that you were indeed tapping your finger against your thigh. You start to wonder how many other times he could detect your lies, but for the sake of your sanity, you decide not to dwell on it.

He reaches down and stops your tapping finger with his own hand. The moment lasts too long -- feels too personal. You pull your hand away and take a step back so that you’re leaning against the opposite counter.

“Whatever. I’m telling the truth.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am!”

“Mhm. Lies, lies , lies,” Oikawa says playfully. “Sorry for not being here earlier. I got caught up in playing this new game Takeru bought. You should’ve called me over. I would’ve come in a heartbeat if I knew that you were having a hard time.”

You make a waving motion with your hand. “It’s fine really. I just got overwhelmed by stuff. No big deal.”

Oikawa frowns. The sight doesn’t look natural on his usually smiling face. “Stop putting yourself down like that. I don’t care how small you think your problem is. If it makes you cry, then it’s worth talking about.”

“Don’t get all team captain ‘Kawa on me. I appreciate it, I really do. But this time it really wasn’t a big deal.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “I walked in and your eyes looked redder than Mattsun’s ass after I accidentally hit him with a serve.”

“How the fuck would you know that?”

“Don’t question what goes on in the locker room.”

A laugh bubbles up from your lips and you have to tip your head back so that Oikawa doesn’t make fun of the way your face contorts as you laugh. When your laughter finally dies down, you look back to see that Oikawa’s staring at you again. He’s looking at you like you’re an opponent he can’t quite get a read on.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” he pauses. “Do you think I should invite Hishoko next time? You know … to be a .. good boyfriend.”

Suddenly it hits you again. It hits you that you can’t just live in this perfect little bubble where you and Oikawa are making jokes at each other in your kitchen forever. It hits you that this Oikawa - the Oikawa that’s so very real and rough around the edges but makes you laugh louder than anyone - isn’t yours. It hits you that while he might look at you one way, he might look at Hishoko in a completely different way that you have never been privy to.

It rips you back to reality, and suddenly you’re aware of the voices in the living room and how Makki and Iwa seem to be fighting over whatever movie’s better.

“Oh yeah. I don’t mind.” You smile up at him with the most convincing smile you can. Suddenly, the thought of spending one more minute in this kitchen with him and getting lost in this perfect little bubble makes you want to cry all over again. “We should head back. I think hell’s going down over there,” you say lightly.

Before he can even get a word out, you’re already making a beeline for the living room. You try to slow your steps to a normal pace when you start towards where Iwaizumi is now sitting on the floor. You make sure to make him move over so that you can sit on the side where the couch ends so that Oikawa can’t sit next to you.

“Fucking finally. Don’t ever leave me in a room with Makki and Iwaizumi ever again,” Matsukawa says. You laugh a little when you notice that he’s saying that while being sprawled across Makki’s lap.

“It’s not my fault that Hanamaki can’t appreciate a cinematic masterpiece.”

“Hate to break it to you Iwa, but Godzilla vs. The Cosmic Monster isn’t anyone’s favorite movie.”

Oikawa’s voice joins in as you hear steps from the kitchen. “Makki, that movie’s a fucking masterpiece. Please shut your mouth.”

You try not to listen to the way Oikawa’s steady steps back into the living room come to a halt when he notices your choice of seat.

He looks up at the stars twinkling against the blackened blue of the contrasting night sky with a heavy sigh. Oikawa always felt a sense of stability and tranquility when looking up at the sky, as if it was a reminder that his life was just a minuscule dot in the cloth of the universe. That maybe, his worries were something so small that he needn’t have to worry about them.

He remembers the way that the night sky was his company when his father had left so early on in his life, or when his sister had come home crying because she had a human growing inside of her and the man she was supposed to marry left her in the same fashion that their own father had, or when he thought that maybe his love for volleyball would have to be ripped from him after his injury in his first year.

He hopes to look up at the dark indigo of the sky and feel that same tranquility. For just a moment. It does.

But even now, as his chest rises softly, he can still feel the unease weighing on him.

The night went by unnaturally fast for a night with you, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. After a few fights between the guys, all five of you finally sat down and got around to watching the movie (which, to Oikawa’s distaste, was some old film from the 60s that Matsukawa had picked because he was drawn to the odd looking cover).

The movie came and went with more than a few complaints from him. It was the type of movie that he especially hated - the kind with a plot that made absolutely zero sense and had an ending that made Oikawa want to rewind the last two hours because he just couldn’t believe he spent 2 hours of his life trying to figure out what the hell was going on just for it to not have a satisfactory ending.

He wouldn’t put the bad movie down as the reason for his irritable mood, but if anyone asked, it would be the answer that they’d get.

Nobody else seemed to be particularly fond of the horrendous movie either (except for Matsukawa, who insisted that they just simply did not have to brain to appreciate the masterpiece. Makki just insisted that the movie was a pile of shit, which Oikawa found himself agreeing with).

Soon after, the five of you found yourselves cramped into your tiny kitchen, which really should never happen again, if the glass that broke after getting knocked over was any indication. It only really happened because Matsukawa swore that he could create the best soup they’d ever put anywhere near their mouths, but that plan went up in flames. Literally.

The incident of Makki almost setting off the fire alarm seemed to sober everyone up, as if whatever energy had previous possessed the five of you had suddenly run out. Oikawa didn’t mind too much, considering the rest of the night was spent watching reruns of one of your favorite shows that he was particularly fond of.

What he did mind however, was the way that you seemed to decide to avoid him for the entire night. He was sure that Iwa, Mattsun, and Makki must’ve noticed, but by some odd agreement, nobody dared speak a word about it.

He tried not to think about anything whenever he felt his eyes drift down to where you were huddled against Iwaizumi’s side, a position that had been his and yours for as long as he could remember. He tried not to think about it then because he was sure that if he did, he’d end up saying something he didn’t mean to say.

He knew that he’d have to think about this in the silence of his own thoughts where there’s nothing but his own annoying emotions chiming in.

So now he’s here, sitting on a bench in your backyard and staring up at the sky like it’ll give him the answer to whatever question he wanted answered.

He hadn’t meant to bring up Hishoko, he really hadn’t. He just remembered the way his stomach fluttered once more at the sound of your laugh and the way it made him panic, because for the love of everything he wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

“Oikawa?”

Oikawa tears his gaze from the sky and turns to meet Iwaizumi’s head as he slips through the door. He must not have heard the door open. “Hey Iwa-chan. I couldn’t sleep.”

Iwaizumi lets out a low chuckle as he walks to where Oikawa’s seated in the middle of your rock garden. He takes a seat next to Oikawa on the bench. “Leave it to you to be the only one that stays up when everyone else crashed two hours ago.”

“Mhm. Why are you awake? Last I checked you were as passed out as the rest of them,” Oikawa says with his gaze still flickering over the stars.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Had to use the bathroom and then realized that you weren’t anywhere to be found.”

Oikawa seizes the moment to don his cheeky smile, turning his head from the stars and to Iwaizumi’s sleep-ridden face. “Awe you worried about me Iwa-chan?”

The reaction he gets from Iwaizumi is an eyeroll, but Oikawa doesn’t expect any less. “After you spent the night looking like you were one second away from an existential crisis? Yeah I did.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond to that. He wonders if you noticed too.

“Spit it out.”

He ponders with himself for a moment, wondering if it’s a good idea to finally just talk about it with someone. He decides that if there’s anyone he’d talk about this with, he’s glad it’s with Iwaizumi. “It’s about Y/N and Hishoko.”

Iwa doesn’t miss a beat, as if he was expecting that. “Mm. What about them?”

“I think I made a mistake.”

“You make a lot of those, ‘Kawa.”

“No, I mean, I shouldn’t have accepted Hishoko’s confession when the only reason I did it was because I didn’t know how I was feeling. It’s not fair to her that the only reason I’m with her is because I’m too cowardly to decide how I felt after I ...” Oikawa trails off, unsure if you’d be okay with Iwaizumi knowing.

It seems he doesn’t have to worry because Iwaizumi finishes his sentence for him. “Kissed Y/N?”

Oikawa’s head turns to Iwaizumi. “You know about that?”

“She told me, yeah.”

“Why … why would she tell you that?”

“You’re not fucking dense, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says with a side glance at his best friend. “I think you know the answer to that.”

For a moment Oikawa considers the possibility that you did feel the same way (a fantasy he’s entertained more times than he’s willing to admit), but he knows that he has to get this out now, has to figure it out and solidify what he feels for you now, because he won’t be able to stand it if he has to keep tiptoeing around you because he’s a fool that can’t admit his own feelings to himself.

The question that comes out of his mouth next isn’t exactly what he meant to ask, but now that it’s out in the open, Oikawa guesses that maybe that’s the question that’s been holding him back this whole time. “What if I mess up?”

“Mess up how?”

He sighs. “I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to relationships.” So far, out of the six relationships he’s had, only two of them will even look at him without disdain, and one of those is his current girlfriend.

“No shit,” Iwaizumi snorts.

Oikawa fakes a pout before crossing his arms. “You could’ve at least pretended to disagree.”

“When you’re out here moping because of it? No I won’t.”

A silence falls over the two of them. Oikawa can feel his own breathing synced up with Iwaizumi and finds that it clears his head a little bit. He gets the feeling that Iwaizumi isn’t going to talk again until he does.

“Hishoko’s great, really she is,” Oikawa starts again. “But I just-“ He lets out a frustrated sigh, slumping further down against the bench.

Iwaizumi hums. “Don’t like her like that? Because there’s someone else?”

Oikawa blinks, still slumped down like a limp noodle. “When you put it that way it sounds so uncomplicated.”

“Because it is.”

Oikawa ponders that. Maybe it is that simple, but for how confident he is about everything else in life, he’s never had a firm grip on romance or how to deal with it. He always seemed to do the exact opposite of what anyone with a good instinct would do.

He’s read enough shoujo manga with you to know that love isn’t as easy as “kiss and live happily ever after”, especially if that love is with your best friend. A shoujo manga he especially remembered liking in first year was of a story of best friends that fell in love, but as fate had it, they fell in love with the right person at the wrong time.

That manga really shouldn’t be something he compares his own love life to, but he can’t help but worry, especially given his past relationships. Oikawa doesn’t usually feel such anxiety about jumping into relationships (mainly because the relationships he did get into were never relationships he really took as seriously as he should), but now he feels that shadow of insecurity come lurking back like a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. It seems he can never escape his own fear of never being enough.

“But Y/N’s different,” he finally says after a hefty silence. “Most of my exes hate me now because of how badly I keep messing up. I don’t know what I’ll do if I mess up with her.”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms tighter. “Y/N’s been through tons of your bullshit. She won’t give up on you that easily, as long as you don’t colossally fuck up.”

Oikawa nods, but there’s already another question bugging him. “How can I be sure that I love her like that? I mean, I remember thinking that I loved Yua, but now that I look back, I wonder if that was only because she was the only relationship I had that kept me around for so long.”

He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that he might mess up that badly - that he’ll take back his feelings for you within a few days like he’s been known for in past relationships. Oikawa thinks that that would most definitely count as a colossal fuck up.

“I’m not trying to label your feelings or anything, but I think you’ve been in love with her for a long time now,” Iwaizumi says in the softest voice Oikawa’s ever heard it be in the years he’d known him. “I just think you’re only starting to realize it because well, you said you kissed right?”

“We did.”

“Then yeah, that probably woke your brain up a little.”

“She’s not just a case of raging hormones,” Oikawa replies.

“I know she’s not,” Iwaizumi says mildly. “I’m just saying that sometimes you don’t realize that you feel like that for someone until something happens that forces you to think about it. For you, it was probably that kiss.”

Oikawa knows that Iwaizumi is probably remembering his own experience with Hanamaki. The look of heartbreak on his best friend’s face when they found Matsukawa and Hanamaki with their lips locked against the side of the school building was not one he would easily forget. He wonders if Iwaizumi knew the extent of his feelings before that moment or if he went through something similar to what Oikawa’s going through.

The remembrance of Iwaizumi’s past feelings also makes Oikawa wonder if he’s felt like this toward you even before all this, just like he knew of Iwaizumi’s feelings for Hanamaki before Iwaizumi himself did.

“I think I would’ve noticed if I felt things towards her before all this. Maybe not a lot, but I would’ve noticed to some extent.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “No you wouldn’t. You’ve got the mind of a genius when it comes to volleyball, but when it comes to any aspect of your life that isn’t volleyball, then your brain is like a pile of horseshit.”

“Iwa-chan, so mean!”

“I’m right and you know it.”

“No you aren’t,” Oikawa says, though he’s not so sure he believes himself.

“You’ve centered your whole life on volleyball ‘Kawa. You’ve neglected shit about yourself because of volleyball. I’ve seen it, Y/N’s seen it. Volleyball is the center of your mind and everything kinda revolves around it like a solar system. But once you get used to something being a small little planet in that tiny brain of yours, you just accept it as a natural part of your thinking because the big old volleyball is still vying for your attention.”

“Please, Iwa-chan. It’s two in the morning. Please speak in a language I can understand.”

“You loved her when we were kids, right?” Iwaizumi pauses and Oikawa just nods. “Then your love and feelings for her were put into this nice bubble labeled ‘positive feelings’ and you never realized when you might’ve started looking at her differently because being in love with her is still a positive feeling.”

“And I’ve been so focused on volleyball and practice that I didn’t even notice?”

Iwaizumi raises a brow at Oikawa. “Are you trying to say that you haven’t neglected parts of your life before for volleyball?”

“Okay, good point.”

Iwaizumi’s explanation does make sense to him, now that Oikawa has something to latch his thought process on. He always liked having you around, and you had become one of the anchors that kept him from breaking over the years. He’s always known that being around you gave him ounces of joy, but he never really looked further into it because well .. Iwaizumi was right.

It was in the way where he unknowingly looked for your figure in the stands when he won the Best Setter award back in junior high. He hadn’t really noticed because he thought he’d always done that.

It was in the way that he would sometimes head to your place after a particularly grueling practice just to make rice cakes for the both of you because he was so exhausted that the only thing he wanted to do is see your smile as you compliment his cooking. He hadn’t really noticed that he got giddy at that prospect because he felt as if he’d always felt like that.

It was in the way that he would sometimes lay his head on your shoulder and only focus on your breathing because it calmed him down in ways that nothing else can. He hadn’t really noticed that he was doing so because he’s always done that.

You had become a positive constant in his life and loving you one way or another became the default. He just hadn’t been paying close enough attention to when it was that the hugs, the support, the little glances, and the nights spent falling asleep on each other might have become something more than the childish blind love he held for you as children. And then that kiss came along and hit him like a volleyball to the face.

With that, he finally lets himself admit it to himself, with no qualms or worries about how he might find a way to mess up. He lets himself admit that he might be a tiny bit in love with you.

It almost hits him like a truck then because huh, he’s in love with you. And yet, he doesn’t feel so different, he just feels lighter.

“Huh.”

“You finally figured it out then?”

Oikawa smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I did.”

A smile finds its way onto Iwaizumi’s lips. “Happy to see it, asshole. Just don’t keep her waiting on you for another three years.”

“I won’t. I don’t plan on wasting any more time now that I finally figured it out.”

“How do you plan on telling her then?”

“That I love her?”

“You love her?” A voice that’s not Iwaizumi’s nearly jolts him from his seat. He’d know that voice anywhere.

He turns to find you standing not far from where he and Iwaizumi are seated and feels the color drain from his face.

taglist. @bumbledunce @angelkogane @waitforitillwritemywayout @mrsbakug0u @salty4tsukki @ppangiiroo @pharvhs @haksblade @whosmorales @yoitsseulgi @seijohreign @intheawks @smellssharpies @my-neighbor-todoro @fightcalum @yatoatyourservice @woo-youngs @fandomlover-universe @cowward @iwaizoom @keitsukki11 @airheadpillar @hockeycoaching @catchmeb-r-awling @gudetamalifestyle @starryhyun @babbykawa @chickentendo315

next chapter is the final chapter :D if you wanna be added to the taglist for the last chap then just send an ask!

#oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa x y/n #oikawa headcanons #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa #oikawa imagine

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 3 years

Link

Rating: G

Summary: While Luka is throwing out his Jagged Stone merch, he and XY have a heart-to-heart in a dumpster. Takes place after the episode "Truth." For @luxyweek 2021

Word Count: 1,594

XXX

Rebuilding a whole personality wasn’t fun, to say the least.

No. No, he was sick of saying the least. Rebuilding his personality sucked.

This whole freaking week sucked.

Luka swept his guitar pick collection into a plastic trashbag. He tried not to flinch as Jagged’s face seemed to wink at him as it tumbled in. He grit his teeth, but kept going. This was no time to lose his nerve.

The old Luka took what everyone gave him. The old Luka kept waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting for things to change.

For Marinette to love him back.

For Mom to tell him the truth.

For Jagged to follow through on his promise.

Jagged wasn’t going to call. They weren’t going to make a song together. Luka didn’t want to, not anymore. He didn’t want to be his dad’s—his backup guitarist.

He squeezed the neck of his guitar, but set it back on his bed. Maybe he’d never pick it up again, but it wouldn’t go in the dumpster. Jules would kill him if he threw out a perfectly good instrument like that.

Jules. She was taking all this in stride—she said that she was used to being forgotten. Expected it, really. Knowing the name of the man who’d forgotten her didn’t change anything.

Then again, Jagged hadn’t looked her in the face and chosen Adrien instead.

That was months ago now, but Luka still seethed at the memory. Jagged had taken Marinette’s guitarist recommendation like it was gospel—he visited her bakery, praised her sunglasses—but he couldn’t even spare a phone call for his son?

He wasn’t jealous of Marinette and Adrien. Not really. But the way Marinette effortlessly connected with his dad… that pain dug in its painted nails, and wouldn’t let go.

Posters crumpled and tossed in the bag. Vinyls followed. CD cases, t-shirts… man, he was going to have to get some new clothes. How had Mom let him fill over half of his closet with Jagged Stone merch, knowing what she did?

He clenched his fists so hard his palms hurt.

This was so, so screwed up.

In the end it took three trash bags. He hauled them over his shoulders like some kind of grunge Santa Claus. Mom and Jules weren’t around to comment as he walked the plank back to the street. Jules was probably at Rose’s house, and Mom… who knew where Mom went when she wasn’t home? Maybe she was off with some other famous loser, like Bob Roth, or—

Luka paused a few meters from the dumpster.

“XY?”

He’d recognize that tall troll-doll hair anywhere, even covered in… substances that Luka was better off not knowing. It also helped that his name was on the giant necklace over his bare chest.

XY slung his arm over the edge of the dumpster.

“Look, if you want an autograph, you’re gonna have to wait like—oh.” He blinked at Luka. “It’s just you. Well, you can get your own dumpster. This one’s taken.”

“I—I’m not here for the dumpster?” He blinked back. The sight of a shirtless XY dumpster diving… it was enough to shock him out of his spiral of rage. “I mean, I’m here for the dumpster, but I was—just taking out the trash. What are you doing here? ...And where’s your shirt?”

“Didn’t want it to get slimy. And you know what they say, homeslice. One man’s trash is another man’s next hit single.” XY held up a stained pigeon plush before dropping it again.

“Uh… no. No one says that.”

“Whatever, breadslice! Just gimme your garbage if you’re gonna be such a hater about it.”

Luka sighed. What was he supposed to do? Actually find another dumpster?

“You’ll be disappointed.” He tossed the first of the trash bags up to XY. “I know I was.”

XY ripped open the thin plastic and scowled.

“What the heck, man? This really is garbage.” He held one of the Jagged Stone shirts up to his chest.

“That’s what I told you.”

“No, I mean—this is the kinda garbage you like, though, right?”

“How would you know?” Luka frowned.

“Stalked your YouTube after ripping off your music.” XY shrugged. “Don’t worry, I didn’t steal anything else. Dad doesn’t need my help with that anymore.”

Luka shook his head. He was never going to escape Jagged Stone. It wasn’t like he could take down all Kitty Section’s music videos, videos where he wore Jagged’s merch, covered his songs…

“You got anything else down there?” XY called.

“See for yourself.” Luka tossed the other two bags. They were both met with groans of disappointment.

“I can’t rip off Jagged Stone. I already tried that.”

“Don’t bother. He’s not worth ripping off.” Luka crossed his arms and leaned against the dumpster. He was probably getting his hoodie—one of the few pieces of clothing he still owned—dirty, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Huh. You’re a weird guy, Lu.”

“Says the one who’s waist-deep in a dumpster.”

“Nowhere to go but up then, right?” XY gave a nasal laugh.

What was wrong with him? He was a famous popstar; he shouldn’t be out here sounding happy to dig in the trash. What else had he said? His dad didn’t need his help?

“Did you get fired or something?” Luka asked bluntly. He might not have Truth’s powers anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get answers.

“Eh. Or something, I guess.” XY shrugged. “Does it count as getting fired if you get permanently replaced with a hologram?”

Luka grimaced. “Probably.”

“Oh.” XY was quiet for a moment. “Then yeah. I’m fired… but only until I find some real inspiration and show Dad I’m not useless!”

Luka snorted. He wished he could be surprised, but apparently that was just what fathers in the music industry did. Threw away their kids as soon as they were inconvenient.

“What! You saw my cardboard costume! I made that all by myself, y’know, and I can do it again!”

“Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you.” Luka climbed up onto the lip of the dumpster and perched there. It smelled horrid, but it felt easier to talk to XY face-to-face. “I just don’t see the point. Of trying to prove you’re not useless.”

XY snapped one of the Jagged Stone records in half. Stupidly, Luka still flinched at the sound.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” XY scowled.

“Sorry. I’m still… everything comes out wrong.”

“No it doesn’t.” XY pouted. “Not for you.”

“Now it’s my turn to ask what that means.”

“You can—you just—your music is real!” XY threw his arms in the air. “My dad would kill to have a kid like you.”

Luka couldn’t help laughing. The irony was just too rich.

“Shut up!” XY threw half of the record at him. Luka didn’t even have to lean to dodge it.

“Sorry! I—my dad pretended I didn’t exist!”

XY paused with the other half of the record still poised to throw. Slowly his arm lowered, until he dropped the broken vinyl to the pile of trash.

“Oh. Uh. That’s rough, dude.”

Luka shrugged. Man, this was awkward. XY was probably the only one who was too self-absorbed to have seen the news, but Luka took that as a mercy. It was nice that someone saw him for him, and not as Jagged’s reject.

“It’s fine. I didn’t know he existed, either. Sort of.” He wasn’t about to explain the situation in detail.

“Huh.” XY rubbed the back of his already-messy hair. “We could always swap places. Parent Trap-style. You can have my crappy dad, and I’ll beat yours up for you.”

He flexed a bicep, which was surprisingly defined. Climbing in and out of dumpsters must have done something for XY’s physique.

“Heh. I’d almost take you up on that, but I can’t stand Bob Roth either.”

XY pursed his lips and nodded. “Fair, cheeseslice.”

“I preferred ‘breadslice.’” Luka smiled a little.

“Really? I’m trying to pick up some new slang. Y’know, since I’ll probably have to rebrand.” He flashed his hand sign, then mimed it blowing up. Complete with dramatic explosion noises. “You think I’d look good in your old t-shirts?”

Luka’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said they were garbage.”

“Eh, Dad says I’m an awful judge of quality.”

“Your dad sucks,” Luka said bluntly. “And so do those clothes. But, speaking of rebranding… that’s why I’m throwing all this out. I’m looking for a fresh start, too.”

He couldn’t believe he was saying this to XY of all people, but maybe the popstar was exactly who he needed. Someone the old Luka would’ve never spoken too. Someone who, despite everything, understood some of Luka’s pain.

“So if you want to get out of this dumpster… we could go shopping. If you want. Get some new stuff.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if he had plenty of friends he could go shopping with if XY said no.

A friend. Did XY even count as a friend? All they’d done was have one conversation in a dumpster.

“That sounds dope!” XY beamed. “I’ve never gone shopping with a real breadslice before!”

Luka blinked before letting out a genuine laugh. Who would’ve known XY could be so funny? Maybe this was the real him, the one that wasn’t tied down by his dad’s expectations. That’s what Luka hoped, anyway.

He held out a hand to pull XY out of the garbage, and into a new chapter in their lives.

#ml s4 spoilers #fic tag #luxy #luka #xy #tali writes #luxyweek2021

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

you’re the one that i want (part 24)

word count: 5k

fluff

(part 23) (series masterlist)

it was crazy how long days used to feel during this time just last year, after winer break started and the draining third and forth marking periods of school started.

usually, you’d be crumbling.

working your hardest to maintain your grades while also dealing with a toxic home environment. you loved school because it served as a safe haven away from that but it also drained and exhausted every bit of you.

but four months of your life now passed by unbelievably fast and you were handling everything well, good people around you that made schoolwork just a little more tolerable.

when you were struggling with math, mingi would help you during lunch. if you needed someone to test you with flashcards, yeosang would reward every correct answer with a piece of food. when a particular teacher gave you shit for anything, wooyoung was quick to cause some sort of chaos even if it meant getting detention.

and when everything just got too overwhelming and you never wanted to look at another book again, seonghwa was quick to clear your desk and drag you to bed. lay you down and hold himself above you until you were smiling and giggling as he pecked kisses down your neck.

you think it was solely because of him and the others and your aunt that june came so fast, only two weeks left of school and everyone buzzing with excitement; even with the whines and arguing coming from your lunch table.

“you’re really gonna make us stay in a hotel for the whole summer?” wooyoung asked, looking at seonghwa with distrust and hurt in his eye. “i thought we had fun at your house that time.”

because with only two weeks left of school meant only two weeks left of you and seonghwa commuting back and forth.

of seeing wooyoung, san, mingi and yeosang every day who have really grown to love this dynamic; so much so, they’ve been all but begging to spend the whole summer there with you two.

but to no one’s surprise, seonghwa wasn’t for the idea.

“no, you guys had fun. i was one second away from flinging myself off a fucking cliff.”

“that’s not fair,” san whines.

but the dirty blonde only quirks an eyebrow and asks if it was fair that he had to sleep on the floor on his own bedroom every night. or be rudely woken up and forced to make breakfast. or share his girlfriend and-

“no hotel, you guys could always stay with me,” you interrupt sweetly, a small smile on your face that only widens when you feel seonghwa glaring at you. your head cranes over to look him up and down, a smirk crossing your face as you shrug your shoulders carelessly.

“what?”

“yeah, what?” wooyoung asks, mimicking your higher voice causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“really? what?” seonghwa asks, annoyance and exasperation in his tone. “i don’t want you burning my girlfriend’s house down, that’s what.”

“girlfriend, this. girlfriend, that. we all know you have a girlfriend, okay.”

“what? girlfriend? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

everyone’s heads snap to the side when a new voice stammers those words out, yeosang finally arriving and standing there looking incredibly panicked and guilty.

it makes you in particular cock an eyebrow, the other boy’s “where the hell did you come from” and “we know you loser,” quickly turning back into whines and protests to seonghwa.

but for the the rest of lunch, you could only focus on how...odd yeosang is acting.

peeking at you every now and then before smiling awkwardly, checking his phone and trying to hide his smile, needing mingi or san to repeat themselves several times because he just seems so dazed and out of it.

when lunch ends, seonghwa is quick to stand up and grab your hand as per your usual walk to class together. but you take your hand from his hold and place it on his arm, standing up on your tippy toe to peck his cheek.

“can you go without me?” you ask softly, using a voice you know will always get him. “i wanna talk to yeosang for a second.”

“oh?” he mumbles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear casually. “what about?”

“i don’t know, he was acting strange,” you say quietly, turning to see him gathering his stuff and checking his phone once more. “i wanna make sure he’s okay.”

the dirty blonde looks to yeosang and hums quietly, looking over his friend who meets his gaze.

“what?”

“why are you being a weird fuck?”

“seonghwa!” you squeal, smacking his chest before quickly ushering him away.

he lets out a loud chuckle before squeezing your hand once more, telling you he’ll meet you at the end of the period and meeting yeosang’s middle finger with one of his own.

“your boyfriend’s such a dick.”

a small smirk crosses your face as you shrug, looking the boy over with a suspicious look in your eye. a look that he catches and turns an endearing but humorous shade of red because of.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i think you got yourself a girlfriend,” you say, poking his arm as you two walk through the crowded, bustling hallways. he lets out a scoff before bumping into you, remembering to be gentle;

because the last time he did that, you smacked into a wall and he paid for it dearly - curtsey of seonghwa’s fist in his stomach.

“what makes you say that?”

“just a vibe,” you say, the sweet smile on your face morphing into a teasing one when he raises an eyebrow. “and you’re little ‘who me? i don’t have a girlfriend!’ was the icing on the cake, really.”

he stares blankly at you causing you to giggle, shrugging your shoulders as you promise you won’t tell anyone if that’s the case.

and it takes a little bit of persuading, just a pout on your lips before you remind him how mean he was to you when you first met for good measure.

“that’s not fair,” he sighs out, a smirk on your face as you shrug your shoulders.

and just as you knew you would, you find out he’s been seeing a girl for a few months. that they’re not official or serious, only having been on a few dates but enough time for him to really like her.

“she kind of scared the shit out of me at first,” he laughs out and you have to suppress the squeal threatening to leave your lips at the sappy look on his face. “she still kinda does but she’s also really fucking cool. i don’t know, i just like her.”

and once he sees the bright smile on your face, he knows he made a grave mistake.

“but don’t tell those shitheads yet, i wanna ask her out first.”

“oh? when you are going to? today? oh, my gosh and how?” you squeal excitedly, the initial budding of a romance something that always makes your heart soar. but it proves to only make yeosang roll his eyes, the sound of the bell blaring through the hall saving him.

“perfect timing,” he quips, your arm shooting out to push at him before he rushes down the hallway to his class.

“perfect timing.”

san narrows his eyes at you a few hours later at the cafe, a smirk crossing your face when you see wooyoung wave to you from the window; it’s almost the 6th shift in a row the boy has made him late for but he looks all too pleased with himself.

“he has no shame,” you hum lowly, giggling softly when you see a blush cross san’s face. “and neither do you, apparently.”

“stop,” he whines, hitting you lightly in the arm. “you have to be nice, we only have a few weeks left together here.”

because as much as you love san and this cafe, commuting during the summer would’ve been an absolute nightmare. and his parents had been the ones to suggest it, telling you they would never in a million years fire you but wanted you to enjoy your summer.

“and you can’t do that if you’re trapped in a car ten hours a week,” they said, before taking notes from their son and promptly pushing free cookies and cakes down your throat.

but you’re really gonna miss this place. even if you’re only away from it for a few months, it acted as a safe haven when you really needed one. was one of the only places where you’d have a smile on your face and not feel like your life was falling apart at the seams.

“what do you mean? you guys are staying with me,” you say, looking at him like a confused puppy in a way that makes him smile.

“seonghwa’s not gonna allow that.”

“well luckily, it’s not up to seonghwa. it’s up to me and my aunt.”

san bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his smirk, looking at you with a quirked up eyebrow causing you to mirror his expression.

“what?”

“just keep that energy when he’s around too,” the boy teases before his eyes dramatically bat and his face becomes one of a lovesick teen. “but seonghwa, pleaseee,” he whines, doing a lousy impression of your voice that makes you smack his shoulder.

but your fight and quarreling is quickly interrupted by the uncharacteristically abrupt entrance of bo-ra, the once shy girl coming out of her shell a little bit more everyday.

you were happy you were able to keep your friendship with them despite the fact they were at different school, always having at least two customers a day who you could guarantee would make you and san smile.

“you guys will never believe this.”

and right when bo-ra tells you jojo has been seeing a boy for a few months now, you almost don’t believe it. not only because of the crazy coincidence that yeosang, too, has been seeing a girl for the past few months but because it might be jojo.

it almost seemed as if the girl had sworn off any and all high school boys because they are “mean, idiotic assholes who think with the wrong, less impressive head.”

and yeosang being the one to change that perspective? you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

how yeosang, at one point, was the exact description of that. how, really, all of them were like that except the sweet blonde throwing his head back in laughter at this information.

“no way, who is he? and what’s wrong with him?”

you both let out a snort and hit the boy playfully, bo-ra putting a finger to her lips as she looks at san chastisingly.

“stop it, they’re coming any second now! i ran ahead because i could not stand to watch them awkwardly bump arms and blush any longer. but act natural. pretend i didn’t tell you. in fact, maybe you guys should act like you don’t even-”

but the second the door rings open, san is up and over to them in a second. he’s so hot in pursuit he doesn’t even realize it’s the familiar brown-haired boy, teasing eyes on jojo as he greets them with a tray of cookies.

“i gotta give it to jojo, i never thought anyone would be able to-”

and it’s at hearing the lowly mumbled “shit,” under his breath that makes san stop talking, snapping his head over to see no other than yeosang looking at him with a half annoyed, half guilty expression.

“yeosang?”

the last two weeks of school for you, and mostly everyone else, were great. the work was light, the teachers were lenient and every single person was in good spirits and anticipating the fun and relaxation that came with summer.

the last two weeks of school for yeosang, however, were...disastrous. because not only was everyone giving him shit for having a girlfriend, they were chastising him for keeping it a secret.

“it wasn’t a fucking secret! i just hadn’t asked her officially yet and i wanted to wait until-”

“we went through this shit before and we’re not about to do it again,” mingi says, whacking the top of the brunet’s head before looking at you and seonghwa. “no offense guys.”

“none taken,” you giggle out as you shake your head, seonghwa rolling his eyes before pulling you into him further. you smile softly against him and meet his gaze, smirking at the look on his face and leaning up to peck his cheek.

it’s a look that only gets more annoyed and tense as the conversation goes into summer, his arm still tightly around you serving as the only thing to keep him grounded and sane.

the same way you’re the only thing keeping him sane now, you in the front seat of his car while wooyoung, mingi, san and yeosang all flail around and hit each other in the back. the trunk is full of suitcases and bags filled enough for two months because, of course, he had lost that battle.

“i’ll definitely be a better surfer, are you fuckin’ nuts?”

“no fucking way, you’re too lanky.”

“well you’re too short! did you stop growing at age eight?”

seonghwa looks over at you, a pained expression on his face at the juvenile conversation in the back and you can only tighten your hold on your intertwined hands.

look down and smile at not only the banter of the boys and your boyfriend’s utter annoyance but the way his hand holds yours so securely.

how they fit together perfectly as you trace your other fingers over the black rings and veins of his hand.

“it’s gonna be fine,” you tell seonghwa softly, surprised he can even hear you despite the chaos in the back. “they could always stay with me if you need a break.”

but he only looks over at you and shakes his head, bringing your hand to his lips before he tightens his hold on you.

“absolutely not, i could never put you through that.”

you let out a snort before wooyoung’s head is directly between you both, his arms on the console and neck snapping back and forth as he begs seonghwa for surfing lessons to prove mingi wrong.

and much to the taller boy’s dismay, wooyoung actually did prove to be the better surfer.

because after only two days of you guys going down to the ocean, seonghwa’s reluctant help in teaching him, though nowhere near as thorough as the lessons he provided last year, proved that the brunet was just somehow naturally gifted at it.

“how does it feel to fucking suck?” wooyoung laughs at mingi, watching the boy roll in clumsily after being knocked by waves. his wet hair’s a mess of tangles and seaweed and yunho can only watch from the beach with a frown on his face.

“he’s trying though,” the tall boy whines to you, a giggle leaving your mouth as you shake your head.

“i know, he really is,” you say, the two of you laughing again as mingi jumps up and tries to dunk wooyoung under water. you two watch as the shorter boy gets away, much to mingi’s annoyance, and he looks at you two with a dejected look.

“come here,” yunho yells down to mingi, his large hand flagging the boy over. but he only lets shake his head and tells him to go there, that he needs his help now and is gonna cry if he doesn’t.

and what mingi wants from the boy, he gets almost immediately. because you don’t know if you’ve ever seen yunho move so fast, rolling your eyes at how easy he gives in before you lay back down and enjoy the warm sun on your skin - but only for a few moments.

because then you feel a familiar pair of arms around you, your eyes shooting open just in time to see you’re being thrown over seonghwa’s shoulder as he’s heads to the ocean. you squeal and hit his back and tell him he better not throw you in but you don’t even have to see him to know there’s a smirk on his face.

he goes in until it’s waist deep before promptly throwing you down, the freezing june water making you squeal out before popping up with a gasp.

“seonghwa!”

“i’m sorry, baby, but i had to,” he whines, circling his arms around your waist. you narrow your eyes but welcome his touch anyway, even jump up and wrap your legs around his hips in a move you’re all too familiar with in this ocean.

“you really didn’t,” you whine softly but he can only kiss your salty lips and you smile against them, meeting the chaste, sweet kiss back immediately. your arms wrap around his neck when his tongue slips in just a little teasingly, pushing yourself further into him and smiling when he pulls back.

“it’s broad daylight,” his deep voice chokes out warningly, your one hand snaking down to trace the lines of his stomach teasingly.

“you started it,” you quip back playfully, trying so desperately to remember there are far too many people around to repeat what happened several times right in this ocean.

but how could you forget? especially with the scoffs and splashing coming from just a few feet away from you.

“hey sickos, i’m pretty sure you can get arrested for that,” yeosang yelps, seonghwa pulling away to sneer at him while you hide your face in embarrassment because he’s probably right.

you can feel the dirty blonde smile against your head as you hide in his neck, seonghwa’s fingers threading through your hair before pulling your face back to look at him.

he can’t help but snort when he sees the pink flush on your cheeks, knowing it’s not from the sun because he made sure to put sunscreen on you before coming down to the beach today.

“did you put on sunscreen?”

your face drops and the guilty look in your eyes causes him to groan. he drops his board and takes the black bag from his back, zipping it open and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen.

“here.”

and you already know better than to refuse, taking it with a wince and quiet “thank you.”

he watches you rub it over your arms and shoulders, feeling your cheeks warm as his eyes stay on you. “did you put some on?” you ask, in an effort to distract yourself from his piercing gaze.

but he only nods his head, picking his board up and dusting off some sand and dirt as his eyes remain on you. you squirt some more on your hand before giving it to him with a grateful smile, rubbing it in and then wiping the excess on your face.

“thank you,” you tell him. “i always forget to put it on which would explain why i’m a little-”

“missed some,” he hums lowly, his hand slowly reaching out so his thumb can rub in the lotion on your cheek.

he does everything so smoothly and nonchalantly while you inhale sharply, your lips parting and watching him with wide eyes. it was the first indication that his touch was gonna be gentle this week, his hands softer than you expected. his eyes meet yours when he pulls his hand back, raising his eyebrow when he sees your face.

“you good?”

yeah, i’m good, you think, i just have a handsome boy touching my face about to put me in cardiac arrest.

he plays the memory over in his head and can’t help but smile, your eyes catching his dazed look along with the softer look in his eye.

“what?” you squeak, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

“nothing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders before tightening his hold on you. “i just love you.”

because he can’t help but think about those times last year, when he was bitter and jaded and so closed off to feeling anything positive. it’d all been a mask, of course, but he’d worn it for so long he didn’t know if he’d ever learn how to be without it.

but that was until he saw you, started everything with you right here in the form of soft, guiding touches that lingered just a little too long and shy looks back and forth that should’ve made him realize this was gonna be the result.

him so easily telling you he loves you, with any and everyone around to hear him say it so surely. biting back a smile and feeling his heart lurch in his chest when your face softens and mouth drops open.

because even though you know he loves you, know that he says it several times a day and means it every time, it’s these random little moments that make your heart flutter the most.

when he’s saying it for no other reason than that he wants you to hear it, that he becomes fully consumed by the feeling just from watching you smile or feeling you against him.

but you still can’t help but blush as you softly tell him you love him too, his skin littered with water droplets and the sun shining behind him so devastatingly familiar and handsome.

your arms tightly wound around his neck before he twirls you around and nearly sends you flying under water, your giggle and seonghwa’s deep chuckle echoing through the salty air.

but it’s quickly cut off by another voice, one much harsher and not so giddy.

“jesus christ,” yeosang grumbles, you and seonghwa snapping your heads over to see him looking at you both. “please don’t tell me i’m gonna look this pathetic.”

“fuck off,” seonghwa snaps. but you can only smack him lightly and look at yeosang with a raised eyebrow, because you’ve actually seen him and jojo together and can confirm they’re just as pathetic as you two.

“of course you do,” you say, your eyes moving back to shore as a small, teasing smile crosses your face. “because look, jojo just got here.”

and the way yeosang’s face brightens and his head snaps to the side is the first indication you’re absolutely correct. his eyes roaming the beach and softly spoken “where is she?�� making you feel just a little bit bad for lying.

the girls did, however, make it just a few days later for a weekend trip. yeosang greeted jojo just as pathetically as he feared to look, his arms wrapping around her body and pressing a kiss to her head like they hadn’t seen each other in months.

mumbled that he missed her and how pretty she looked and you had to turn your face into seonghwa’s chest so you didn’t squeal.

it was nice to see them both so vulnerable. when you first met them, they were harsher and colder, with walls not so easy to break down that always made them sneer in the face of love. made them question couples that made it seem like the end of the world when they were apart.

but now, they’re going through that dilemma firsthand with all the other couples, when talk of a girl sleepover and boy sleepover happen, san being looped into the former purely due to bo-ra’s request.

“what, no,” wooyoung whined, arm reaching out to pull the blonde back by the shirt. “he has to be with us. he’s technically a boy.”

“technically?” san asks, snapping his head to the side to look the pouting boy.

"but there’s already too many of you, yunho’s parents will go crazy,” you say, walking over and smacking wooyoung’s hand off the blonde. “and you get to see him all the time. bo-ra and jojo are only here for the weekend.”

“b-but,”

“i’ll be back to you in the morning, drama queen, since i’m only technically a boy,” san says, secretly far too excited with a night away from them; he loves his friends and woo but sometimes they get even a little too crazy for him, having grown used to spending all his time with you.

and of course, you don’t miss your own boyfriend’s reluctance to let you go but can only assure him with a sweet smile and teasing shake of the head before you all run inside and lock the doors.

it takes your aunt all of two seconds to fall in love with your new friends, a spread of dessert and soda in wine glasses (except for her own) keeping you occupied well into the night.

you all laugh until tears are in your eyes and your sides hurt, the boys just a house away hearing the ruckus through the open windows.

“do you think...they’re talking about us?” wooyoung asks seonghwa and yeosang, the dirty blonde rolling his eyes as yeosang’s mouth drops open.

“oh, my god do they do that?” the brunet asks, shock and horror in his voice as both boys turn to look at seonghwa.

the dirty blonde is tapping on his phone before he feels eyes on him, looking over to see his two friends staring at him wildly.

“what is wrong with you guys?”

“let’s sneak over. i can’t take not knowing what they’re laughing about.”

“what if they’re talking about our...”

another loud chorus of giggles and cackles rings through the window and it causes yeosang and wooyoung to shoot away from the window, paranoia quickly creeping up on them.

“shit! they’re they go again. what the hell could be so damn funny?”

“they must be getting details from jojo now,” seonghwa says casually, wooyoung snorting as yeosang’s head snaps to him in outrage.

and while you guys might’ve been talking about them a little, you’d never let them know that. you’d never let them know you actually shared about how sweet and thoughtful they could all be, even given their flaws.

but somewhere between talking and laughing and then going out in the pool, stormy clouds rolled in and before you knew it, rain and thunder was pelting against your window.

blankets and pillows were sprawled out across your aunt’s couch as you all laid there cuddled into one another, san’s head on your foot while your head rested on jojo’s shoulder.

it took one movie to knock them out and then another for last girl, now just you with the darkness and roaring weather outside quickly making you miss the boy next door.

you’d gotten used to having him every night; more often than not, you slept together and woke to one another and now you’re feeling just a little hypocritical for tearing wooyoung and san away from each other so easily.

because you’re quick to sneak away from your three sleeping friends, cover them with blankets and turn of the tv, before sneaking into your room.

one particularly loud crack of thunder causes you to jump, cursing yourself when you check the pockets of your pajamas and realize you forgot your phone downstairs.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath, about to turn around and make your way back down when you hear a knocking on your balcony door.

and then suddenly, your life feels very much so like a horror movie - no means to communicate with anyone, the howling wind and darkness outside, a mysterious knocking at a door that the character is stupidly going to investigate.

but maybe it’s because, somehow, you knew your soaking wet boyfriend was gonna be standing on the other side.

“i texted you,” he says simply, like he’s not standing out in the pouring rain or giving you a mini heart attack.

“you could’ve rang the doorbell!” you whisper-yell, pulling him inside before telling him to stay there. you run frantically around your room for a towel and an extra set of his clothes you ‘borrowed’ before throwing them at him.

“why did you do that, you’re gonna get sick!”

and despite your rush of adrenaline to save him, another crack of thunder causes you to jump and he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face.

“you’re really asking me that?”

“i told you i’m not scared of thunder,” you say surely, taking his wet clothes and hanging them in the bathroom before seeing he made himself quite comfortable in your bed.

it’s upon hearing another boom outside, shaking the house and causing a squeal to leave your mouth, that you quickly scurry in next to him. cuddling yourself into him and resting your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you tightly.

he smiles against your head and doesn’t comment on the pounding of your heart against him, how any time a loud crack of thunder comes, you cling onto him just a little tighter the way you always do during a storm.

“i’m not scared,” you insist, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i know, baby, i just missed you,” he mumbles against your head, bringing your face to his so he can place a kiss on your lips. he tightens his hold on your hair when you deepen it, reach up and part of your mouths before moving up to straddle his hips.

and despite the growing hardness you feel underneath you the more you kiss, he never tries to take it further. you just kiss and giggle and smile against the others mouth until you rest your head back on his chest, the feeling of his hand rubbing your back and softly spoken “i’m here, baby,” lulling to the sleep despite the storm outside.

even though you’ll both be awakening to a different type of storm tomorrow, when wooyoung and yeosang discover seonghwa had snuck out and made his way to the house next door.

(part 25)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; @lokicaramel ; @hwaxbum ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @chrryhwa ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ; @revehosh ; @atletino ; @yeol-wish ;

#these last 2 are just fluffy nonsense tbh <3 #i have a migraine so this was bare minimum #srry :/#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #ateez #ateez fluff #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Text

Defender of Men

Alex Lightwood birth storyyy!! I’m finally publishing it because someone sent me an ask on it, but it became too long, so here’s part one:

“Cecily, are sure you’ll be alright?” Gabriel asked.

“Jiw jiw, for the millionth time, I’ll be fine.” she said, pushing Gabriel out the door. “Now go do something useful.”

Anna was already outside, leaning against a tree, frowning down at her dress.

“Anna, gwnewch yn siŵr bod eich tad yn stopio poeni.” Cecily said.

Gabriel looked at her, annoyed. “I speak Welsh, Cecy.”

Cecily kissed his cheek, “Then make sure you do well on what I said.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and hugged her with one of his arms.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“No, Gabriel.” She said, putting a hand on his chest. “Just have fun sledding with Anna, your nieces and Gideon. Sophie is right next door, if I need anything—which, I won’t—I’ll just call her.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not made of glass, love. I’ll be fine. Now go before our poor Anna gets stuck frozen to that tree.”

Gabriel dropped a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go.

Cecily watched as he walked to Anna, who made a show of pretending to be asleep. He ruffled her hair, stealing her hat in the process and running down the street. Anna laughed and chased after him.

…

“Kit, bach, are you sure you don’t want to go sledding with Anna and your father? I’m sure it will be loads of fun,” Cecily said, once she was back inside.

Kit furrowed his eyebrows and cast a hesitant look outside. “I think I’d rather stay with you, Mam.”

Cecily smiled, knowing perfectly well Kit didn’t like the cold. “Alright then, fy ngalon bapur i.” (A/N: my paper heart)

Cecily walked to the kitchen and pulled out two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with tea. Before she picked them up, she grabbed a pocket watch that was on the counter and hung it on her neck so she could time her contractions.

When she got back to the drawing room, she tried to set the mugs on the table, but she couldn’t bend down that far. Christopher shot to his feet and helped her put them down, and lowered her to the couch.

“Thank you, darling.” Cecily said, bracing a hand of her belly. She felt like she was at the verge of giving birth, which is never a good thing, as a mother’s instinct is rarely wrong. The first stage of labour takes around fourteen hours, hence Gabriel’s hesitation to leave her at home. Cecily had thought he was being dramatic, but that was before she realized that she was maybe closer to birth than she had thought. Had fourteen hours already gone by?

“What book are you reading?” Cecily said, looking over her son’s shoulder, distracting herself.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

Cecily scrunched up her nose. She had never read the book herself, but from what she’d heard of, it didn’t seem like a book Christopher would be interested in.

“What a peculiar choice of literature, cyw.”

“Matthew recently read it and said it was at utmost importance I read it as well. I don’t understand much of it, though. I’m also not very fond of the characters. I’d prefer your company over that of this book.”

Cecily smiled. “As do I, bach.”

Having children was a strange experience for Cecily. She was apprehensive at first, afraid she wouldn’t be a good mother and her children would end up resenting her. When she got pregnant with her first child, she was so happy.

And when she lost it, she had been so incredibly grief-stricken.

She had felt like she’d already failed as a mother, even though the Silent Brothers confirmed there was nothing that there was nothing that could have been done differently to have saved it, that it wasn’t uncommon to lose a child in the early stages of pregnancy.

That was the cruel irony, wasn’t it? To feel so much regret, to have your child die inside of you, and not know what went wrong.

They’d tried again, and then she was pregnant with Anna. The whole time she had been so horribly sick, she was terrified of losing another child. This time, however, she’d been pregnant long enough that she’d have to give birth to the child, whether it was alive or dead.

Those months had been the worst in Cecily’s entire life. Not even when her father had gambled away their home in Wales, the one she had memories of running with Will and Ella down valleys, had she felt such despair.

“Mam?”

Cecily shook her head, bringing herself back to the drawing room sofa, beside Kit.

“What is it, bach?”

“Does the baby have a name yet?”

Cecily rubbed her belly. “Not yet. Why do you ask?”

Kit shrugged.

Cecily suddenly felt a contraction. She started the pocket watch timer and sat forward and breathed deeply to try to relieve the pain. This one felt longer than the rest had been.

Kit looked at her from over his book, his eyebrows together.

Once it had passed, Cecily stopped the timer. After a couple of seconds of recovering from the contraction, she looked at the time, and swallowed.

“Kit,” she said as calmly as she could. “Bach, I need you to ring for the Silent Brothers.”

…

Brother Enoch, Zachariah and another brother Cecily couldn’t remember were preparing for the birth. Christopher had helped her up the stairs, before the brothers had come, and was now standing in a far corner of the room, at loss for what he should do.

“Christopher.” She said, motioning for him to come.

“You needn’t be here. I’ll be fine and your father will soon be here. I already asked Sophie to send him here once he stops by after sledding. You can wait outside until then.”

“But Mam, I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’m with the Silent Brothers.”

Christopher looked over his shoulder at the Brothers.

Cecily put a hand under his chin and turned his face to face her own. She smiled at him.

“Go, Kit. It’s alright. I’ve done this before.” She said with a smile.

“I want to stay here. With you.”

Cecily tried to rub away a smudge on Christopher’s face, perhaps something to do with his most recent experiment.

“I don’t think you do, bach. When people say birth is a natural process, it’s because they’re trying to glorify a process that’s ghastly.”

Cecily looked deep into his lavender eyes and smiled. “Now go, before I start crowning. Trust me when I say you’ll wish you’d have gone.”

Christopher made to move, but didn’t get up.

“I want to help you. I want to stay with you the way you stayed when I got my first rune.”

Cecily wanted to argue that this was different but she suddenly got a contraction that was long enough she knew she’d have to push at any moment.

Sure enough, Brother Enoch said, you must begin pushing soon, Cecily Lightwood.

“You have to be sure, Christopher.” She said through her teeth. “One-hundred percent sure. And you must stay on this side of the bed, because I don’t want you to see the birthing process. I’ll only let you stay because if not I’m afraid you’ll ‘stress experiment’ and blow up the house.”

Kit nodded quickly.

“Alright then.” She said.

Are you ready to push?

“Yes. Let’s finish what we started, Enoch.” Cecily said, taking Christopher’s hand in her own and bracing herself for the birth.

…

Congratulations, Cecily Lightwood, it’s a boy. Enoch said in her head, less than half an hour later.

Cecily fell back on the pillows, exhausted. Birth never really got easier over the years.

Jem came around with the baby in his arms and gave him to Cecily. She swore she saw him stroke the baby’s hair as he walked to her. She smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Jem.” She said, quietly.

He inclined his head at her and walked away.

Cecily looked down at her youngest son for the first time. She’d helped other women give birth when she was younger, and had always thought newborn babies ugly, but whenever she looked down at her own, they were the most beautiful and perfect little things in the entire world. She smiled and offered the little baby her finger to hold.

Like with all of her other children, she felt her eyes sting. There was something about holding her child for the first time that always brought chills to Cecily’s body. It’s not like when she held Anna for the first time, the feeling she felt that her life would forever be changed, but it was more like when Christopher was born; she didn’t feel any fear, just happiness. She kissed the baby’s forehead.

“I wish you could have met your grandparents.” She whispered.

Edmund and Linette had passed away four months ago, and it had been difficult for Cecily not having been able to visit them when they were still alive. Since she was pregnant, she and the baby would be at high risk of death, if she caught the influenza disease.

She tried to shake off the memory. Right now, she only wanted to focus on the good things in life, not the bad.

She looked up and saw Christopher a distance away from where she was. He must have moved away from her once the baby was out and the Silent Brothers began moving about, preparing the child to be held and checking to make sure everything was alright. Christopher looked at the baby in wonder, one of the first babies he’d ever seen.

“Come meet your brother, Kit.” She said, holding a hand out.

She motioned for Christopher to sit next to her on the bed and, resting the baby on her chest momentarily, demonstrated how to position his arms.

“That’s right, bach.” She said, lifting the baby to put in Kit's arms.

“Mam,” he said nervously. “What if I drop him?”

Cecily smiled. “You won’t. I have faith in you.”

She gently placed the baby in his brother’s arms, Christopher looking like he was holding his breath.

“Breathe, darling. It’s just your brother. Look at how much he likes you. He’s already reaching out to you.” The baby’s hands were indeed opening and closing slowly. Cecily helped Christopher adjust his arms, so that he was supporting the baby’s head better, and when she sat back, she felt a pang in her chest at seeing her two sons together. Christopher had a soft smile on his lips, the smile that many people had told her is the same as her own.

Sometime after she’d put the baby in Kit’s arms, a Silent Brother told her she needed to push out the placenta, so that they could begin healing the tears induced by the birth. She nodded and when she began pushing again, Kit looked up, confused.

“Is there another one?” He asked, surprised, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Heavens, no. Thank the Angel. It’s just the placenta.”

Christopher still looked confused.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, bach.” She reassured him.

…

The Silent Brothers were gone by the time Gabriel and Anna got home.

Cecily had been feeding the baby, and Christopher was reading a book on his back, keeping her company. He’d given up on reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, had switched it for a book on science. Cecily had tried to read a couple of sentences, but was deeply confused by them, not being able to understand a thing.

“I don’t know how you can read that, Christopher. I can’t follow a single sentence, much less the entire book.”

Kit looked up at her. “It’s not that hard, it’s just that Biology is interconnected, so you have to understand the previous concepts to understand this one.”

Cecily laughed. “You put a lot of faith in me, Kit.”

Christopher tilted his head to the side.

“What are you reading about now?”

“Genetics. Why children come out looking like their parents.”

“There’s an explanation behind that?” She asked.

“Yes! We all inherit half of our genes from our mother and half from our father.”

“Are you sure? I can’t imagine your father inheriting anything from Benedict.”

“It’s more so to do with physical traits.” Kit explained. “Like blue eyes or green eyes.”

“That’s quite interesting, bach.” she said.

And that’s how Cecily got a lesson on genetics. She was happy to listen to her son talk happily about science and to have her new baby in her arms and be able to kiss his tiny, soft nose and occasionally ruffle Christopher’s hair.

…

“By the Angel, Cecy.” Gabriel said, coming inside, worried. Both Anna and Gabriel had a lot of snow on their coats. They must have come home running after hearing the news. “Are you alright? Is the baby?”

“Yes, yes. Stop worrying.” Cecily said, holding up the bundle of blankets they’d hidden the baby inside of.

Anna’s eyes widened as her eyes landed on the bundle in Cecily’s arms. “Is that the baby? It’s so small.”

Cecily nodded and Anna walked quickly to kneel beside the bed and smiled at the baby.

“Hello.” She whispered, touching his cheek lightly.

“This is your new brother,” Cecily said, smiling at Anna.

Gabriel leaned in over Cecily’s shoulder, close enough that she could see his face as he smiled down at his youngest child. He put a hand on her shoulder, and kissed her temple lightly while Anna cooed at the baby.

…

A few moments later, Anna was sitting on the armchair across the room, holding the baby for the first time, Christopher standing to the side, letting the baby hold his finger.

Gabriel leaned close to her and whispered, “what do you think about Alexander?”

Cecily turned to look at him and smiled. “Alexander?”

Gabriel shrugged, brushing her hair away from her face. “I was thinking about names while I took Anna sledding. I tried to come up with names for each letter of the alphabet and I got to ‘Maxwell’ before I thought of Alexander.”

Cecily looked back at her children, interlacing her hand with Gabriel’s. “What made you think of Alexander?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe the letter ‘X’ that they have in common.”

Cecily felt her smile grow wider. “I love it. Alexander.”

She felt Gabriel put his arms around her and she rested her head on his warm chest.

“The birth wasn’t that bad, was it?” Gabriel said, his voice lightly amused.

“Go to hell.” Cecily mumbled against his shirt.

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