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joheun-saram · 3 years

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Whenever, Wherever (jhs)

Summary- Hoseok is a time traveller but that’s not the strangest thing that has happened to him. The strangest thing is when he meets a girl he’s never seen and she tells him he’s her best friend.

word count- 6.7k

pairing- timetraveler!Hoseok x Reader

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, smut

warnings- car accident, mention of parental death, mention of miscarriage, major character death, description of gun shot wound (but not gory), explicit smut (unprotected lovey dovey sex), hoseok pukes a lot (soz babe ily)

a.n- Ahhh I finally finished my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub! I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @baepsaetan‘s secret santa 🎅🏼Day did you guess I was your ss? Did you like me subtly asking you questions about this during our sprints? hehehe! Happy new year, love! 💕

For people who can guess, this was inspired by the Doctor, River relationship and is loosely based on the Time Traveller’s Wife (eventhough I straight up have never seen the movie and literally only read the wiki page 🥴)

A huge thank you to Bella @hobisbeautifulass for beta reading for me! I’m sorry I made you cry at work!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

The day his mother passed away was when Hoseok discovered his gift.

Stranded by himself in a large suburban park in the middle of the night, there was an eeriness surrounding the dark expanse of road. There were no cars, no streetlights, and no solace to be found on the edge of the wooded trail he stood before. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he remembered seeing the blinding lights of the trailer in front of him just moments ago, his mother’s voice ricocheting through his head. He didn’t understand how he got here, and how the loud honks and screeches of tires had fallen to give way to this deafening silence.In the distance, he hears footsteps. The crackle of crushed leaves echoing in the air as he sees a man with dark hair, dressed in a large black sweater and a pair of blue ripped jeans, step forward. In the eight years he had lived thus far he had never been as terrified. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out towards him, and Hoseok closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run away.

Before he knew what happened, he was lying in his bed under his warm, colorful duvet. He rubbed his eyes, his heart still pounding and feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. He thought it was a dream till his father entered with a tear-streaked face to let him know about his mother’s fatal accident.

That was the first time he time traveled, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t know why he could do it. He didn’t know how he could control it. All he knew was that he was drawn to certain places, certain times. It was never when he wanted, like the first time when he wished he could go back to a few hours and not be greedy for ice cream so his mother would not have to drive him. Or the time he wished he could go back to tell his grandmother he loved her. Or the time in university where he wished he had never got caught cheating and lost his scholarship.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her.

-----------

For most people time is linear. There is the past, the present, and the future. But for Hoseok, time is a tangled mess, a convoluted web of events that he can only watch unfold. Never having the power to control where he ends up, Hoseok felt helpless, like his life was a punchline for the universe. All through his life, he would wind up at weird places at weird times. He would never know how long he would be there before being zapped back to whenever he came from.

Hoseok was twenty-five, he was single, he was a music producer, but most of all, he was tired. Lately, his time jumps were too frequent, going from happening once a year or so to once every few weeks. He would find himself in odd places at odd times, sometimes it was a quaint suburban street at dawn, other times a posh private school at midnight. All to stay there for seconds before zapping in his bed, as usual, his entire day lost, nausea bitting at his throat.

“Hoseok? Oh my god! It’s really you!” The new barista at his favorite coffee shop squealed when he made it to the front of the line, jarring him from his thoughts as he aimlessly scrolled through his Instagram, trying to decipher if he missed out on anything important. He looked at her, dressed cutely in a yellow sundress with the establishment's blue and gold apron on her waist. Her hair was loose around her face, her smile brilliant, as she looked at him with excitement. She was beautiful and it took Hoseok a few moments to stop himself from his shameless ogling.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asked, confused. He would have remembered if he ever saw her. She looked pretty unforgettable. Maybe she was one of Yoongi's friends, although something tells him Yoongi would find her sunshine persona offputting.

“Yeah! You’re my best friend!” She pointed at him, as his mouth dropped. Okay, so she was crazy. Great...

“Uh…” Hoseok didn't really know how to answer that, so he decided to follow his gut and just ignore her comment. “I’m sorry. Can I just order?”

“Vanilla latte, no whip, half sugar coming right up!” She beamed as she wrote on the cup, leaving him dumbfounded.

“How did you…?”

“Told you! You’re my best friend!” She pranced away to make his drink, as he stood there confused. When she returned, she handed him a drink and Hoseok could do nothing more than smile half-heartedly as he walked away. Did he have a stalker?

He decided not to visit that coffee shop again. Better not give this crazy person any more ideas.

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

Hoseok stood in someone's home, someone's living room, dark other than the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was a modest room, resembling one of those he would see on television. In the center of the room, there was a bright yellow rug flanked on three sides by a couch set facing a television hooked to the wall above a fireplace. It seemed cozy, somewhere he would have liked to live.

He had no idea where he was and he cursed his gift once again. This was getting ridiculous. This was the first time he had appeared inside someone's home. He shook his head as he looked at the clock placed on one of the small tables next to the big couch.

3 am. Great. He was trespassing in the middle of the night.

He decided to escape before the owners caught wind of him. As he made his way towards the door, a family portrait caught his eye. It hung right next to the front door, framed by a beautiful gold frame.

His mouth dropped. It was him. He looked a little older, the lines next to his eyes a little deeper as he sat smiling on a grassy field, his arms around a beautiful woman in a yellow sundress holding a small infant wrapped in green blankets.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He knew her. It was the random barista girl. The one who insisted she knew him. What the fuck?

Before Hoseok could spiral any further he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw her, dressed in flannel pajamas, walking down the stairs. She looked around her mid-thirties, nothing like the chipper twenty-something he'd seen last week.

He stood there blinking at her as she came closer, awe on her features that quickly morphed into sorrow. She touched his face gently as if in disbelief that he was there as her eyes glistened in the moonlight.

"Hobi?" She spoke, her voice was hoarse as a tear slipped down her cheek. Hoseok didn't know why but he felt his heart lurch at her tears. He had no idea who she was but he felt this innate pull towards her. He wanted to hold her, wipe her tears, and most fucked up of all, he wanted to kiss her.

"I- who are you?" He asked softly, his hand coming to hold hers as if he couldn't help himself, leaning slightly into her touch.

"We haven't met yet?" Her voice was wet with tears as she sniffled, moving closer to him. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to feel if he was really there. He stood silently as she squeezed him close, and wrapped his arms around her when she started sobbing into his chest. He held her tight as she cried, his eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

"I missed you so much Hoseok," she said as she looked up at him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Before he could think, he was leaning down to capture her lips with his own, his heart in his throat. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and he felt his head turn into a haze. Before he could deepen the kiss, he felt the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled apart as he saw her fade slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to her as she did the same.

All too soon, the familiar sight of his bedroom materialized as he stood there alone, her last words ringing in his head.

"No! Please! It's too soon!"

He didn't know when he started crying, but soon he was kneeling on his floor sobbing for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

-----------

Hoseok didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on the floor of his bedroom, his face puffy and back sore. Without a second thought, he rose from his position, grabbed his keys, and bolted out of his apartment. He had to find her.

It took him six days to meet her again. Six days of anxiety, amped up from the coffees he chugged as he visited the coffee shop at different hours. He couldn't even describe her properly, every time he went to the cashier to tell them how she looked they gave him an odd look. Maybe it was because by the third day he looked like a deranged stalker, describing her height and her build to anyone who worked there. He was surprised they hadn't banned him yet.

On the sixth day, she waltzed in and sat across from him, not a care in the world. Her smile was wide, a juxtaposition to the sad, older version of her he was fixated on. She wore a polka-dotted dress which hitched up a little as she crossed her legs. Hoseok was speechless as he almost choked on his coffee.

"You told me to meet you earlier but honestly, I just wanted to annoy you a little." She giggled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes lit with mirth, and the stress of finding her hit him like a ton of bricks. Hoseok jumped out of his seat, his arms around her shaking as he tried to control his breathing. His mind was fuzzy, he had no reason to react this way, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know her but he missed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he held her tighter.

"What took you so long?" He asked his voice a little hoarse from not speaking all day, his breath coming out in puffs against her neck. She hummed a little apology as her hand reached his hair, stroking his scalp in a way that made him instantly relax. He melted into her, her sweet floral scent a balm to his anxious nerves.

"Do you even know my name yet?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as he finally let go of her. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as the beanie atop his head. He settled back in his chair awkwardly staring at her, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants that laid on his thigh. He looked up at her smiling face, as she put her hand on top of his. "It's Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you, Hoseok."

Her words were simple but their effect was anything but. Hoseok felt like everything in his world made sense, that all those times he had puked after a shitty trip down the stitch of time was worth it. Her hand was so soft, skin so perfectly smooth as her thumb stroked his hand, that Hoseok had a hard time finding words to express how he was feeling.

He looked at her shyly, not knowing where his nerves were coming from, as he smiled, meeting her warm eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you too, Y/N."

----------

Hoseok sighed in annoyance as he walked down the path of the familiar suburban neighborhood. The sun shone brightly, and all he wanted to do was to be zapped out of here so he could end up in bed next to his girlfriend. It had been barely thirty seconds since he saw her, her soft skin molded against his as she slept next to him, her hair tickling his nose as he spooned her. He missed her already. This wasn't fair. Why did he have to walk around this stupid cul-de-sac when he could be wrapped in her warmth?

Ever since the coffee shop, things with her had progressed extremely fast. He couldn't help himself. He never felt as close to someone as instantly before. Granted, he knew they were going to get married and have a beautiful child together, but that didn't mean he knew how fast he was going to fall for her.

The day he first learned her name, he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face. She was different than any other woman he had met. She was outgoing and optimistic, and brave. Much braver than him. While he stuttered to ask her for her number, she leaned across the table grabbed his phone, unlocking it as if by magic, and added her phone number in. While he wrote and rewrote eighteen different texts, pacing in his living room, she beat him to it with a casual "Stop overthinking, dummy. It's only me!"

How could he stop overthinking? It was her. His dream girl gift-wrapped and sent to him by fate. He never thought his gift would be good for anything, but she was here and all his previous suffering finally made sense.

As he walked along the sidewalk, biding his time, he approached a bus stop. It was cute, and definitely not from his decade. A janky blue bus stopped, and out she walked, making Hoseok miss his step and almost trip. She was dressed in a school uniform, a crisp white shirt with a plaid skirt, a cute flower-shaped backpack on her shoulders, and her hands full of college pamphlets. Hoseok couldn't help the smile that overtook his features. He wanted to run up to her but he realized even if she was his girlfriend now, it was still a crime to approach a minor. His gift was so stupid.

He stood there, averting his stare and looking at his shoes instead, as she walked closer to him. He promised himself not to be a creep and try to talk to her but her voice makes him break his resolve.

"Ew. Can you not get a hint? Get away from me, you creep!" she yelled and Hoseok's head snapped up. He felt his face flare with rage as he watched a kid around her age try to put his arm around her as she tried to shove him off. The kid was relentless, throwing cheesy pickup lines her way as she continuously rejected him. He wanted to beat that little shit to a pulp.

Clearing his throat, he approached the two. "Dude, she said no. Get off her," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What's it to you, old man?" The boy rolled his eyes, his hand still wrapped around her as she pleaded at Hoseok with her eyes. Hoseok wasn't old! He wasn't even thirty yet! He hated this kid.

"It's not nice to forego consent, kid," he sneered, schooling his face into the coldest expression he could muster. It seemed to have worked because one look at Hoseok's face and the future sex offender had his hand to himself before he walked off with a huff. Hoseok glared at him as he disappeared in the opposite direction. Good riddance.

"Thank you so much!" Her voice was higher than it was now, a little spring to it that only comes from innocence as she looked at him with round eyes. "You're like my own personal superhero!"

Hoseok felt awkward. He never wanted to talk to her here. Running his hands through his hair, he smiled at her, throwing an awkward "Any time!" as he rushed away. The feeling in his gut was back and he had never been happier to want to throw up. The afternoon sun faded as he stood in his own room, blinded and running to where he knew his trash can was.

As he vomited into the plastic can, he felt a hand rub soothingly down his back. She handed him a water bottle when he sat up next to the bin, his head aching.

"Welcome back, babe. When did you go this time?" She giggled at her own joke. God, Hoseok loved that laugh.

----------

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a really long time. Surrounded by all his friends dressed in custom tuxedos, he fidgeted with his bowtie, and scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror he fixed the lapels of the blood-red jacket he was wearing. Who convinced him this gaudy suit was perfect for the occasion? Oh yeah, his bride.

Jung Hoseok thought he'd accomplish a lot of things by the time he was thirty-one. He thought he would have signed to a major label as an in-house producer (he did), he thought he would be living in a beautifully decorated apartment downtown (he does), he thought he would have a cute little dog to welcome him home (Mickey is adorable, in case you were wondering), but he never thought he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for someone who would want to share their life with him.

Ever since she came into his life, Hoseok felt like it was filled with sunshine. She brightened every aspect of it. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, it felt like happiness was resonating through his entire skeleton - like she was the one thing missing in his world. The first time he told her he loved her he almost threw up from the nerves knotting in his stomach.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he couldn't help himself as she walked in. She had foregone the usual white gown, quoting something about the patriarchy, as she walked towards him in a dress, equally as red as his suit.

Her smile was wide and he was in awe of her beauty. He sniffled through his vows and she winked at him through hers, a simple gesture that made him chuckle and relaxed the emotions brewing in him. She could always do that with the simplest of things, be it a touch or a look. He kissed her with passion as their friends and family cheered. He hoped she didn't mind how much he was blubbering. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Their wedding was one of the best moments of his entire life. Dancing to cheesy music, cheek to cheek, the couple in red stood out amongst others in black. Hoseok was so in love that he didn't even mind when at the end of the night he felt the familiar buzz in his ears. He was slightly upset that he abandoned his new wife on his wedding night, but is it abandonment when the hotel lobby fades into what he knows now is his future home?

He saw her there, sitting on the couch, a frown on her face as she seemingly stared into space, dressed in a set of comfy pajamas and he couldn't control himself. Whispering her name so as not to startle her, he moved towards her when she smiled up at him. Sitting next to her on the couch, he pulled her to him with a grin. She giggled as she settles herself on his lap, running her hands over his jacket, before soothingly scratching his scalp. Hoseok couldn't help but lean into her touch, a goofy grin on his face. He was sickeningly in love.

"If it isn't my handsome new husband. I've been waiting for my wedding night for years." She joked as she pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Hoseok's heart lurched in his chest as a little whine escaped him. She isn't surprised in the least to see him there, and why would she be? In the past five years, Hoseok has visited so many different versions of her. In a way, it's part of how he fell in love with her. She may only be thirty-one to him, but he'd seen her at every stage of her life.

As she deepened their kiss, his hands went around her waist squeezing her tight as she ground on him gently. He remembers the different versions of her as he feels his blood rush through his body, each touch sparking electricity under his skin. He remembered when he first laid eyes on her in that small cafe, his nerves on their first date, her tears when he proposed, the first time he had her under him after she invited him for a movie. But he also remembered her at six playing in the sandbox in the park, sixteen and humming to pop songs while she walked home, thirty-six as she cried in his arms, seventy when she looked frayed and weak but still beautiful. He had seen all of her life, moments that he was lucky enough to be brought to more often as he fell more in love with her. He had visited her hundreds of times, and he couldn't wait to do that for the rest of his life.

He kissed down her neck, leaving little bites that he soothed with his tongue as she undressed him, his jacket somewhere on the floor, his shirt mostly buttoned. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, a beautifully airy noise that set his heart on fire.

Soon the two were breathless and naked as he hovered above her on the couch. She arched into him as he entered her, her little whines encouraging him. He latched his lips on her hard nipples, nipping them how he knows she loves. She fit him so perfectly, always so perfect for him. His wife, his soulmate, his Y/N.

"I love you, wife," he whispered and placed his forehead on hers, his hips thrusting into her heat, as he relished the connection between them. He kissed her deep, almost overwhelmed by how perfectly their lips slotted together. He could kiss her forever.

"I love you, husband," she whispered into his mouth, and his pace increased, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. She writhed under him as he pushes her off the edge. Her legs shaking around him, her heels poking into his back, as he savored the way her walls pulled him in. He was panting when he came, filling her up and babbling a chant of her name.

He pecked her face about a thousand times as they both laid on the couch boneless and giggling. When he, inevitably, ends up back on his bedroom floor, he saw her smirking at his naked body on the floor, dressed in his t-shirt, her hair still wet from her shower. She squatted next to him.

"And where is your suit?" she chided, her lips lifting, even when she tries to pretend she's mad.

"We'll get it back in a few years." Hoseok shrugged as he pulled her into a kiss, missing her body next to him already.

----------

The bar Hoseok sat at is loud, too loud for the conversation Yoongi keeps trying to have with him, and that's precisely why he chose it. Next to their table is a bachelorette party, a gaggle of women dressed in feather boas and plastic tiaras, sloshing drinks on themselves as they excitedly laugh. It's an odd contrast to the way he's feeling, the atmosphere on his own table somber.

"So what? You're going to leave your wife at home and get wasted here? Is that what you do now, Hobi?" Yoongi scolded his friend but Hoseok was already too far gone, having had a few bottles of beers before even inviting Yoongi out. He knew he was an asshole, he didn't need Yoongi to remind him, but he needed to escape.

His once happy marriage was becoming tumultuous, and, no it wasn't because they didn't love each other anymore, but quite the opposite. The past two years had really shown him that even if they were fighting and yelling, they still loved each other. Even when they were mad they crawled into bed together at the end of the day and held each other, not being able to sleep otherwise.

Their marriage started off great. There were cuddles in the kitchen, dance parties in the living room, vacations in Rome, and a night where they both sat next to each other on the floor by the bathroom holding hands as they waited with a little blue stick. They made love on that floor when it showed two lines, but that wasn't a surprise - Hoseok had seen his child in that photo the first time he kissed her.

The surprise was when she woke him up in the middle of the night, thirteen weeks into the pregnancy clutching her stomach, tears running down her face. He had never felt as scared as he did at that moment, breaking all the traffic laws he could get away with to get her to the emergency room. He held her hand through the ultrasound, through the exam where she winced, and through the doctor solemnly telling them they had had a miscarriage. He didn't let himself cry in front of her, always wanting to be brave, but he sobbed when she slept, knowing that he had a child but gaining little solace from the fact as he mourned.

The second time the two lines showed up, they were careful. He waited on her hand and foot, working from home, ensuring she got the proper nutrients. The result was another trip to the emergency room and another night of tears holding each other. By the fourth time, they stopped being surprised, just two zombies driving calmly to the hospital, before returning home. She went to the bedroom, while Hoseok drank himself into a stupor, before asking Yoongi to meet him here.

Hoseok knew he had a child, but he felt hopeless, drowning in the undercurrent of hurt and apathy. He loved his wife, loved her more than anything in the world but he couldn't bear to look at her tonight, couldn't bear to convince her once again that he had seen their child. Maybe they adopted he thought bitterly as he switched from beer to shots.

He walked home in a drunken haze despite Yoongi's worried insistence that he take a cab. Somewhere during his walk, he had started crying, tears painting his face and sending shivers down his body as they cooled in the evening chill. He wished he could fix it for her, she was always so brave, always so supportive of his stupid ideas and moods. Every time they had a fight, she was the first to apologize, a smile on her face as she cracked a joke and tickled him till all his worries were forgotten.

Drowning in self-pity, he barely noticed the buzz in his ears as he entered his house. Stumbling into the living room he saw her sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. He stared at her as he realized he was in the future, her hair greying, and her skin wrinkled. He didn't know how to react, but the tears returned as he rushed to her falling on his knees as he held onto her legs.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He apologized again and again. He didn't care that this version of her wasn't the one that needed to hear him, but he felt like a terrible husband, a terrible partner, as he kissed her knees. She stroked his hair and shushed him with a soft smile.

"What happened, Hobi?" she asked, her voice gentle, and he felt all his walls come down as he told her things he was sure already knew. He felt exhausted, every cell in his body aching. He laid on the couch, head in her lap as she listened to him, consoling him with the wisdom of a life lived.

After he had fallen silent, sober, and unable to convey any more emotions, she spoke.

"Hobi. You have to be nicer to yourself. You were the perfect husband. The perfect soulmate." Her words were meant to be soothing, but as soon as he heard them he felt like ice was running through his veins. He sat up immediately, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Were?"

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She looked guilty, hurt crossing across her features, as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No! Y/N... I die?" His voice was small, almost timid towards the end of the sentence, as he held her hands to ground himself.

"I'm sorry, baby." Her eyes glistened as she cupped one of his cheeks, looking at him sadly.

"When?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll go insane." She was firm in her resolution, her tone taking cadence that she always used with him when declaring the end of a conversation. But Hoseok couldn't help himself. He was going to die, he was going to leave her. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"I'm already going insane! You have to tell me. What if I can stop it? We can be together. I don't want to leave you!" He pleaded, his eyes wide in panic.

"Hobi... You've never left me. You visit so often." She spoke with a small smile, seemingly reminiscing.

"Please! Please or else I'll go every day knowing it's my last with you. I - I can't do that. Please." He was almost whining at his point and he didn't care how desperate he sounded. He just wanted to know how much time he had with her. He was so stupid, how could he leave to get drunk while she waited for him at home. He didn't deserve the way this version of her was looking at him with such love.

"I barely even remember when it happened." He knew she was lying, could see it from the way her gaze averted his. Hesitantly she continued. "I'll... I'll just tell you. It's the day after you see yourself for the first time."

"See myself?" He repeated, his brain running through his memories. He would have remembered if he saw himself. It would be hard to forget, but he came up empty, tears of frustration lining his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise. I'll come back. As much as I can." He kissed her at that, repeatedly, her lips soft under his. She knew he couldn't control his ability, but she smiled at him anyway, agreeing with his promise, telling him she'll see him soon, even if she had no idea if that was true.

When he was transported back to his room, he couldn't help himself from heaving on the floor, the contents of his stomach painting the hardwood. As always, she rushed to him, wiping his tears and walking him to the bathroom. She helped him change, before cleaning up after him, despite his protests, as she glared at him every time he tried to sit up from the bed.

When she returned from putting the cleaning supplies away, she shut the door to their bedroom, and there, on the hook behind it, hung his wedding suit, the crimson a bright splash of color amongst the white. She followed his eyes, giggling a little.

"You already made up for being an ass, don't worry," she joked, fingers poking at his side to tickle him gently.

Hoseok had missed her laugh. Missed it so much. He cut her off before she could say anything else, whispering apologies against her lips. He was never going to leave her.

---------

He was in a park, the trees throwing looming shadows under the moonlight as he walked around. He recognized this park, it was the one near her childhood home. She had taken him there during their first Christmas together, and he still remembered the silly grin on her face as she showed him the sandbox where she used to spend all her days as a kid, making sandcastles. He smiled at the memory. It was the first time in a while that his time travels hadn't taken him straight to her and he missed not being able to see which part of her life he was visiting.

He walked about reminiscing about his day. It was his daughter's third birthday and he felt a little bad leaving his wife to clean up the mess. He couldn't believe Soojin was three already. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photographs as he waltzed down memory lane. He smiled softly at the photo from the day she was born. She was so tiny then, her little, pink heart-shaped lips in a pout as she stretched, her eyes almost disappearing beneath her chubby cheeks.

He kept his eyes glued to his phone, looking at photo after photo. There was one of her covered in mushed peas and he remembered how long it took him to get the mess out of the living room rug. There was one of her dressed as spiderman who she had declared her favorite recently after watching the cartoon on Netflix, doing the signature web-shooting pose. There was one of holding on to her mom as she walked for the first time. Hoseok's heart felt full, and he couldn't wait to get back home.

He decided to keep up with the tradition of seeing his wife every time he skipped through time and started walking towards her house, deciding to take the shortcut she had shown him. Humming a little, he placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, thinking about the delicious cake he had custom ordered for the party. He could probably eat the whole thing. Would it taste as good after it's been in the fridge?

His musings came to a quick stop however as he looked into the distance, just at the exit of the wooded path. There, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt with a giant dog on the front and jeans that didn't quite reach the ankles, was an eight-year-old boy. He walked closer and his heart stopped as he saw himself for the first time. He was crying, sniffling in the air, and as Hoseok approached his younger self, he vanished into the air.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled in his steps, falling on to the ground.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

No. It's too soon. He couldn't collect his thoughts as they rushed through his head barely leaving a trace. When he had that conversation four years ago he thought he had more time. Soojin was just three years old. He thought he would have years, that he would see graduations and intimidate boyfriends, and walk her down the aisle. It's too soon.

He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths short and his ears echoing with his heartbeat, as he tried to collect himself. He looked at his hands shaking in his lap and his eyes focused on his outfit. How could he have forgotten what the man in his memory was wearing? He put on these ripped jeans this morning, the same jeans that haunted him for the first sixteen years of his life. How could he have not realized that he was the creepy old man he had nightmares about as a kid?

Trying to control his breathing, he started to formulate a plan. He didn't want Y/N to know, he didn't want her to go through the emotions he was going through right now, because she would go through so much worse when he was gone. He sat in the park and let himself cry, hoping that he wouldn't have to leave soon because leaving meant saying goodbye and he was not ready yet. It's too soon.

---------

Hoseok awoke with a sinking feeling in his heart and a lump in his throat. It was the day he had been dreading since before he learned her name. He hated that he didn't have enough time. Enough time to hold her, enough time to watch his daughter grow up, enough time to build a bigger family.

He found the other side of the bed empty and standing up with a groan, he moved to the room next door. He stroked his daughter's cheek a tear spilling out his eye that he quickly wiped. Bending down, he kissed her little cheek, sniffing her calming scent.

"Daddy loves you, baby. Daddy will always love you. Please be good for your mommy okay?"

She only moved a little at his words, sighing before continuing to snooze. Hoseok ran his hands over his face, his heartbeat accelerating. He looked at the mirror in the corner and practiced his smile a few times. He had to be brave. He had to be brave for her, for both of them.

He walked into the kitchen, schooling his expression into one of bliss, as he saw her standing in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, and his heart felt hollow. He loved her so much. He hated that he had to leave this way, but that was his fate from the beginning, wasn't it? Their whole relationship, everything, started from and led to this moment. Padding over to her, he put his arms around her squeezing her tight, his chest molding perfectly to her back as it always did.

She giggled as she leaned into him, softly caressing his arms and making him nuzzle further into her neck. He took in her delicate scent and tried to control his breathing. He could not break.

"Someone's cuddly this morning," she commented, turning around with a grin.

"I just love you, that's all."

She cooed as he brought his lips to hers. What he intended to be a gently good morning kiss, turned into so much more as he lost control of his emotions. He kissed her like he would forget her taste, but it wasn't him who would be dwelling on this moment for years to come.

When the two broke apart, he cupped her cheek as he felt the familiar buzz in his ears.

"You know I love you more than anything in the world right?" He whispered before he started to see his kitchen fade away.

Her voice echoed as he was teleported into a dark room, momentarily blinded.

"Aww, I love you too, my Hobi!"

He fumbled around a little and then he heard it - a loud gunshot, shattering his eardrums. The sound hurt more than the sudden sharp pain in his chest, he thought, as he gasped for air, stumbling to the ground. The lights in the room turned on then and he saw the younger version of his father in law, demanding something, his voice inaudible.

She never told him details about this moment, but kind of fitting that it was in the hands of her father. He never did like Hoseok much anyway. His breaths felt shallow as he chuckled at the irony. Or was it justice? Karma? He didn't know. Nevermind, his chest hurt far more than his eardrums. Fuck, being shot is a bitch.

He felt the nauseous pull for the last time as he dropped into his bedroom. The last thing he saw was his wife rushing over to him. Oh, she was so beautiful, he was so lucky she chose him.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her, even if that was the reason he lost her.

—

I hope you liked this super sad angst piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #jhope angst #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #jhope imagines #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #btsnoonanet #purplearmynet #hoseok x reader

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blueluneacy · 4 years

Text

Familiar Shore

Hey, so this is a commission for the lovey @lliminall! Thank you so much for commissioning me, it means a lot! This is a continuation of Black Ocean, so go check that out if you haven’t! It’s Bruno bucciarati x reader timeeee

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: kidnapping, suicide, transformations, just general angst and comfort vibes

The ocean no longer had any color. It was like the moment you woke up on this terrible island, most everything lost color, the strange world you now found yourself in feeling small compared to the extent of the Labyrinth you once knew. You tended to sit by the ocean nowadays, watching the fish that swam up to the shores to see the strange being that liked to sit and watch them. When Bruno first dropped you in his little lair, some minor beasts that inhabited the ocean and the island, but it seemed that in the days that Bruno was gone, he quickly straightened them out. This place was strange in the sense that everyone seemed a lot more docile. You supposed that most people would have considered that ocean uncrossable and that the local wildlife wasn’t used to humans like yourself, leaving to strange circumstances, like finding that the many tailed foxes seemed to like your company, or that after giving some of the gray birds some of your dinner, they perched near you and cawed at the beasts that came towards you.

Of course, that’s not to say things were sunshine and roses. For example, Bruno was actually terrible. A few times you had tried to pull together a raft and get back to shore, only from Bruno to simply tear it apart and carry you back to your little island. A paradise, he called it. Yeah, what a paradise. And you had gone to Jurassic measures. You remembered waking up in that cave after doing something terrible, stepping out to find Bruno sobbing over your lifeless body. You actually felt bad enough to sigh, only for Bruno’s new keen ears to pick up on it and lunge back to you, thanking whatever Gods there were looking out for the two of you that they set your spawn to here, that you would be with him, that he wouldn’t lose you. You cursed those same gods.

But for now, Bruno seemed to leave you alone. Whether it was because he understood that you needed space and time to process this, or just because he was busy with who knows what, you weren’t sure. Maybe he needed a steady supply of torture to sustain him. It would make sense, the way beasts seem to just thrive on destroying any human being that they came into contact with. But, there was also another problem, one that plagued you. It had to be a lie, right? Bruno couldn’t have possibly actually… Turned into a beast, right? No, he had to be one beforehand. There’s no way that a human being could turn into a beast, and even so… Why would he? Bruno was kind and caring… Unless he wasn’t. Until he was completely deranged, dragging you under the depths until you passed out. You didn’t like to think about it, didn’t like to think about those eyes. You just closed your eyes, telling yourself in just another minute, you’d walk the fifty feet back to the cave you had now found as your home, finding the stone becoming increasingly more smooth, the terrible thing that was keeping here making it more homey day by day. What started off as a simple cave with furs on the ground now had furniture, actual walls, even a bed. You still preferred to sleep on the floor if it meant it kept Bruno from holding you. It didn’t.

After a few moments and a lot of convincing yourself to get up, solely just to eat and get some rest as you plotted your way out of this mess, you made your way over to the cave only to stop when you heard voices. One of them you recognized, Bruno, but there was someone actually responding to him. You swallowed, unable to help yourself from hiding at the edge of the cave to listen in to what they were saying.

“I just don’t know if I can make it work, is all. I mean, you’ve seen them. They’re horrified of… This.” Bruno spoke out, leaving the other beast just to scoff.

“They’re horrified that you’re no longer human. Something that you can’t change. Do you honestly believe that you can make them separate this idea of who you once were versus who you are now?” The other beast, for what other creature would be able to speak out with such calm in front of Bruno in the state that he was in now, replied, sounding simply skeptical.

“But you don’t understand, it’s not like I’ve changed. I’m still the same person, I just-”

“Happened to have turned into an eldritch horror beyond basic human comprehension now trapped in a liminal space shaped like a labyrinth. Good pitch.” He sounded so curt, leaving Bruno just to huff.

“I don’t know why I even bothered to ask you.”

“Because you knew I would be honest with you. It would be easiest if you just gave up on the human, Buccellati. Humans are odd, fragile, and emotional. You could easily find a nice beast girl to settle down if you really wanted.” He replied, leaving you just to… ponder. You never really thought of beasts actually speaking to each other, much less loving each other.

“You act as though we’re not humans.” Bruno replied sharply, leaving the other beast to sigh.

“You’re not. We’re not. Sure, maybe at one time, but there’s no way back. Who knows, maybe you and Dio can laugh over this one day.”

“He’s on the other side of the Labyrinth. Speaking of which, how are there other Beasts in this territory? I thought it was supposed to be mine.”

“Oh, only stronger beasts deal with things like territory. Pathetic ones like me, we don’t have that luxury. It’s easier to say you’re with the biggest guy in the room than to try and stake out your own claim in the world. Plenty of territories are filled with beasts that simply stick around for protection or just because they feel like it. I’m surprised you don’t have a line out the door with Beasts asking for your blessing to move in, this is prime real estate.”

“They’re too dangerous for my beloved to be around. I’m particular about the things that might feel too comfortable to try and hurt them.”

“If you’re choosey, then you really made a bad choice in letting me stay.”

“You don’t like humans. I figured you didn’t have the spine to break theirs.” You gasped at that, Bruno’s fine tuned ears finally picking up on your listening in to their conversation and standing up.

“Cara, you can come in. It’s rude to listen in.” He called out to you, leaving you to swallow as you stepped out into the low candlelight of the cave, making your way inside. You just stared at the ground, not wanting to respond for fear of… You weren’t really sure. Bruno didn’t tend to get mad at you, but you didn’t know anything about this other beast. When you caught a glimpse of him, you were a bit skeptical. While Bruno tended to hide his more… Er, Inhuman qualities, this other beast had no qualms about being comfortable. You saw how his silvery hair fell over his shoulders, his painted lips barely concealing rows of sharp teeth and neatly done nails actually claws.

“Tesoro, this is Leone Abbacchio. He’ll be staying near the Shore, so you may see him often.” Bruno told you, leaving you just to roll your eyes.

“Oh boy, another terrifying monster I get to live near! I’ll make sure to bake cookies for the house party.” You replied, leaving Bruno’s face just to set into a grimace while Abbacchio just smiled and rolled his eyes.

“I have no interest in humans, and much less one this scrappy.” He replied, standing up. It took a moment for his insult to click, but once it did, you were ready to fucking fight. Would you lose? Probably. But your honor. But, before you could get a word out, Abbacchio just brushed himself off of bits of sand that seemed to stick at his body, and turned to Bruno.

“I’ll let you two have your lovers quarrel in peace.” And with that, Abbacchio quickly was out of there, leaving you alone with Bruno, who just shook his head as he sat down, motioning for you to sit with him. You did not obey.

“Don’t just stand there, tesoro. Perhaps we should talk. I hate the idea that there’s something wrong with our relationship.” Bruno told you, leaving you just to scoff as you crossed your arms.

“It’s fundamentally wrong, because it’s based on a lie. Me being here isn’t because of love! It’s because of… Because you… I’m your prisoner, Bruno!” You didn’t know why tears were welling up in your eyes, why the pain hit your heart as you spoke the truth, but it did. Your dreams of escaping with Bruno to the outside world, outside of this hell, were crushed entirely. Everything was just a wreck, Bruno had lost it, and beyond it all, he still gave you a pang in your heart. Bruno just shook his head, standing up and you released how much taller than you he was. Was he always this much taller than you? Still, it didn’t matter, you didn’t have the chance to step away before Bruno wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. It was possessive, but his hand came behind your head, pressing your face into his chest. You gasped as you released he still smelled the same as before, of coastal air and cypress.

“I… I don’t care about that, (Y/n). I can’t lose you, not like everyone else. Please, just stay with me. If I lose you, I know… I know I’ll become like the rest of them. Please, I really do love you. Don’t you love me back?” Bruno’s voice was shaking, as if he were about to cry. You had the instinct to try and comfort him, holding yourself back the best you could.

“I… I don’t know anymore. It feels like… I’m haunted by you at this point. This person you once were and the… Thing you are now.” You replied, leaving Bruno just to sigh and let you go.

“I… But I haven’t changed. I haven’t hurt a single human. If anything, I’m safest out here. No one could possibly come out here, it’ll just be you and me. We can make the life you spoke about here, we can get married and have a family-”

“Bruno, no! We can never have that! You know that! Deep down in your heart, you know that just as well as I do, that this will never work! Even before... “ You looked away, hoping to find some sense of reality in a pace that seems to lack it. God, this was terrible. “We were just chasing after affection, weren’t we? Did we really love each other, or were we just so lonely that we didn’t know what to do and threw ourselves at the idea of human contact?” You replied, leaving Bruno to sigh.

“(Y/n), do you remember how you entered into the Labyrinth?”

“I…. What?” That was out of nowhere. You wondered if maybe he was trying to change the subject, but nonetheless, you shrugged and decided to answer.

“I don’t remember. I was walking through the woods one day, and it was like I got lost… Well, lost forever. I don’t really… Know what I did to deserve all of this.” You replied, leaving Bruno to sigh.

“Is there something back in your old life so pressing that you have to return to it? Is the world outside better than something we could build?” Bruno asked. You wanted to argue so bad, but he was right in a way. There really was nothing that you had going for you back at home. You would go back to work, live your boring, mundane life, but…

“You’re holding me hostage here, Bruno.”

“I’m protecting you. (Y/n), there’s no way out of the Labyrinth unless you have someone from the outside to pull you out. There’s no exit. That is the main secret of the Labyrinth.” He told you, his voice serious, and you knew he was telling the truth.

“I-I… T-Then, what were we searching for all that time?! Why were we… What kind of torture is all this?!” You replied, shaking a bit. You didn’t notice the way your hands were starting to fade and distort, but you didn’t care. “What kind of being would create such a terrible place?!”

“I… I don’t know, tesoro. I really don’t know. But… If there’s no one outside looking for you, you have to understand. Travelling back to the main portion of the Labyrinth is…” He didn’t have to say it. It was a death sentence, a world of torture waiting to happen. You just collapsed, feeling yourself collapse into a pile as you sobbed, trying to find some way, some reason for your entire existence here. You wanted to believe this was a lie, you really did, but something about Bruno’s tone.... How did he even learn this? Did that other beast tell him? Maybe it was just a lie that that beasts told, and Abbacchio knew that Bruno would try to be a sap with you. Torture by proxy. But still… Bruno’s hand hit your back, rubbing it gently as he sat down next to you.

“I… I know. Apparently… Every Beast that is in the Labyrinth was once a human being. One that was never saved.” He told you, leaving you just to go silent. You looked at your hands, the twisting of your own flesh and the accenting of claws that you had been telling yourself was just your nails growing jagged from lack of care. You turned to Bruno, lip quivering.

“I’m just haunted by the ghost of the person I thought I loved, and I don’t know if that person truly is you, or if he was killed in the fire.” You whispered, almost hoping that Bruno wouldn’t hear it. He just pulled you closer, wiping away your tears.

“I… I honestly don’t know. I feel like I am the same person, but who knows. I don’t know what has changed about me, and what hasn’t. All I know is… (Y/n), you keep me whole. You keep me… Good. I can’t explain it. I know you loved that person before, but… Could you ever be able to love me too?” He asked, leaving you just to look at the ground.

“I… I think so. I…” Your eyes just welled up with tears again as you grabbed onto Bruno, sobbing. You mourned for him, for yourself, for the hell that dozens were put through.

“What’s going to happen to me, Bru? Am I going to become a monster?” You asked, leaving the man to just pet your hair, hushing you.

“No matter what you become, you’re still going to be mia cara. And I’ll always love you, no matter what. I promise.” He told you. You looked up, letting your hand run along his cheek as you pressed your lips against his for the first time in forever. And he wasn’t warm the way he once was, but the kiss was still real, and his lips were still soft. When he pulled away, Bruno just held you in his arms, the two of you sharing a soft moment as you both tried to process the new reality that had come upon you. This was now the world you lived in, a world of Beasts and humans who would someday become beasts. If there were gods, they were only malevolent.

“I… I really do love you, (Y/n). I want a life with you. Even if it has to be in this hell, I really do mean what I meant. I think we could create a paradise here. A place just for us, forever.” He told you, and in your week state, you just nodded, letting Bruno hold you as you closed your eyes.

“I… I love you too. I’ve always loved you.” You told him, feeling your eyes get heavy as you cuddled up with Bruno. You looked into his eyes again, seeing that blue you had fallen in love with in the beginning, the Fisherman’s son who was determined to get home, with that serious look on his face, but full of hope. His eyes still had hope, though. For some reason, that seemed to comfort you, seemed to make you feel like things… Might be okay. Maybe not now, but someday.

For the last time that night, you dreamed of that idyllic life you once wanted with Bruno, in the old world on the ocean, a family and kids and peace. When you awakened in the arms of the beast, you were finally ready to throw it away.

#bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati/reader #writing #My writing #mine #sfw #yandere x reader #yandere/reader #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba/reader #commission #labyrinth au

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fourdaysofrain · 4 years

Text

Butterflies and Dahlias

Summary: Tony helps Peter with his crush on MJ.

(Just a little fluff to help those of us going into midterm season!)

Read on AO3

Peter had been texting someone on his phone since the moment he set his bag down in the lab. Not that Tony minded, he was too busy with his current project: restoring his dad’s old radio. It normally sat on his nightstand, but recently it had taken to playing random stations from Norway a few hours before sunrise. Tony wanted to blame Thor, but it was more likely a side-effect of a past upgrade gone wrong. Whatever the issue was, Pepper was not a fan. That meant Tony had to fix it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Peter look up from his phone and glance out the window of the compound’s lab. He squinted a bit at the sun shining into his eyes.

“MJ says that commuting to your workplace is an example of economic privilege,” he said, apropos of nothing.

“Yeah?” Tony looked up from his desk to assess the teen across the room from him. “Why’s that?”

“It’s something about how it makes you need enough money to buy a car, and the ability to pay for gas, and free time, I think?” Realizing that Peter was just rambling in his excitable teenager way, Tony turned back to his desk and continued to work on fiddling with the radio. ”‘Cause you need to be able to have time to commute instead of like, take care of your kids or something. I told her that Happy drove me here.”

“She sounds like a peach. What else does she say?” Tony replied distractedly, searching for the right size screwdriver.

“She also says that me wearing Ben’s old work shoes is closer to the original spirit of Doc Martens than the people at our school who buy them new.” Peter put his phone down on the table and started moving his hands in time with his words. ”She told me the history of them, it’s really interesting!”

The damn screw was such a weird size. “Is it?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s like, they were the working class of the 50s and 60s’ work shoes, and then the workers’ children would get them as hand me downs, and that’s the generation that started rock music and all that, so they have a rebellious history.” Peter jumped up to sit on a nearby table and continued to talk excitedly. ”She also told me about the racial history of a bunch of music genres. Did you know salsa music has a lot of African influence? I never knew that! It’s something about the syncopated beat structure, I don’t know.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony said mindlessly. He finally found the right size screwdriver and successfully started to reattach the back panel of the radio.

“Even the definition of syncopation is ‘the disturbance to the normal pulse of meter.’ Like, what’s the normal meter then? Whatever a bunch of old European white guys decided on?”

Tony noticed the lull in the conversation and gave a quick, “Mhmm.”

“There’s just so much whitewashing in our culture! Like, so much.” Peter paused for just a second to quickly check his phone. ”I really should be more aware of that stuff, especially because Queens is so diverse. And Spider-Man’s trying to be inclusive of everyone.”

“Is he now?” Tony asked, his attention still on the radio in front of him.

Peter nodded as he continued to speak. “I worry that I come off as too white savior-y when I’m saving people, but I brought up Spider-Man being white to MJ and she said she thinks he’s doing pretty good. So, it can’t be that bad, right?”

Tony finally dragged his attention away from his desk and looked over at Peter. He looked a little deranged, with his hair askew and cheeks slightly flushed.

“This MJ gal,” Tony said, pointing at Peter with the screwdriver. ”You like her?”

“What?” Peter’s mouth stayed partly open, his train of thought evidently derailed by Tony’s question.

“You like MJ.”

Peter laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair. “No! I mean like, yeah, I like her, she’s one of my friends. But like, like like her?”

Tony leveled him with a steady look. “Do you?”

There were a few beats of silence as Peter leaned back until he was laying down on the table and looking upwards. Tony could hear his sigh from across the room.

“I think I like MJ,” he said, staring desolately at the ceiling.

Tony took off his tinted glasses and set them carefully on his desk. “Hey, good for you.”

“No, what?” Peter pushed himself up from his position until he could make nervous eye contact with Tony. “This is bad!”

“C’mon, kid, brighten up! You’re 16, the world is your oyster, and so on and so forth.” Tony waited for a reaction from Peter, but none came. “Have I told you about when I knew I was in love with Pepper?”

Tony had always held his cards close to his chest when it came to his personal life, so Peter perked up at the prospect of learning more about him.

“When’d you know?” he asked.

“Besides seeing her after I got the new ticker,” Tony said, tapping his shirt where his scars from the arc reactor were with the screwdriver he still held. “There was a night after I got it removed, nothing special about it, where I just looked at her and knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Peter rested his head in his hands. “Why that night?”

Tony looked off into the distance and smiled, lost in thought. “I had just given her a necklace that was made with the shrapnel they yanked out of my heart. I’m not normally big on romance, so that sealed the deal for me.”

“Just like that?” Peter asked. “It just took a necklace?”

“It wasn’t just a necklace, it was a…” Tony trailed off as he searched for the right words, waving the screwdriver in lazy circles near his ear. “It was a culmination of years of tension.”

Peter scrunched his nose. “Gross.”

“It’s not gross, it’s romantic.” Tony sniffed and set the screwdriver back on his desk. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

There was just a moment of silence before Peter started talking again.

“So,” Peter said, starting to swing his legs off the side of the table, “I need to buy her a necklace, then.”

“It’s not about the necklace, kid.” Tony waved away the remaining holograms and gave Peter his full attention. ”It’s about what it represents.”

Peter sighed and fell back onto the table. “I don’t have any shrapnel in my heart, man.”

“What’s something, anything, she’s told you about that you can make lovey-dovey?” Tony asked, barely holding back an eye-roll.

“I don’t know.” Suddenly, he lifts his head up and looks at Tony. “Wait, she mentioned the Black Dahlia murder the other day, that’s a flower, right?”

“That’s a flower,” he confirmed, pointing at Peter. “What can you do with that?”

Tony waited while Peter thought.

After a few seconds, Peter cringed and smiled awkwardly before saying, “I can get her a necklace of a black dahlia?”

Tony ran his hand through his hair. This kid. He sighed, then clapped his hands together.

“Alright, kid. If you’re going to do this, you’re doing it right.” He pulled his phone out and started tapping as he rambled. ”I know a great glassworker in Italy who can fix you up with something real quick. I’ll cover the cost and shipping, of course.” He ignored Peter’s muffled squawk of surprise. ”Unless you want to get it yourself, in which case I can loan you a private jet. Or, just make a healthy donation to fund a field trip for your AcaDec team to go to Europe--”

Peter cut him off by waving his hands. “Woah, woah, woah! Mr. Stark! Italy? We’re going to MoMA next week, I can’t go to Europe!”

“Alright, I hear you. No Europe.” Tony clicked his phone off and slid it back into his pocket. He saw the forlorn look on Peter’s face and tilted his head towards him. “Look, kid. You like her. Just be your normal dorky self. Don’t pretend to be anyone you’re not.”

Peter sighed and shoved his fingers into his hair. “Mr. Stark, I spend half my free time pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“Oh, kid.” Tony couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the sight of Peter unraveling over a girl. “You want the easy way?”

Peter jerked his head up to look at Tony. “Yes, please.”

Tony could see the desperation in his eyes. Oh, to be a teenager again.

“There is no easy way,” Tony said as he slid his tinted glasses back on. “Get used to it now.”

Peter groaned and laid back down on the table, hitting the back of his head on the surface a few times for good measure.

Tag List: @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @wellplacedbanana @night0seven @unfathomable-universe @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @spideynamu

#hey my confidence is back!#art writes #irondad #iron man #spider-man #spiderman #mcu #marvel #spideychelle #peter parker #michelle jones #peterxmj

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doublenuzlocke · 5 years

Text

Entry #1: Because I love you

“- And remember to do your curatives.”

Crystal nods through the nurse’s instructions, pulling her shirt over her head. “I will. Thank you a lot.”

The nurse shakes her head and waves a hand dismissively. “It’s no problem. I’m just doing my job.” He smiles, softly. “If you want to thank me, be careful not to get hurt that badly ever again and go reassure your scary friend.”

That last bit makes Crystal smile as she reaches for the door handle. Scary friend, huh? Even Silver’s pokerface has its limits, she guesses.

Finally, Crystal opens the door to step outside of her hospital room-

only to get jumped by something fast and red.

“Crystal!” Gold’s voice is loud in her ears. There is so much unadulterated joy here; it would almost be cute. “Crystal Crystal Crystal I’m so glad you’re okay!!”

Almost, because she feels warm, warm arms tight around her waist and she feels herself being lifted off the floor and god fuck it hurts.

“Gold, you fucking idiot!” Okay, yeah, not the best thing to tell your (ex?) boyfriend after a fight and a near-death experience, but fuck. He’s pressing right over her bruised ribs. Moron.

Crystal winces in pain and raises a hand to smack the back of his head- she needs him to let her go, right now.

Her hand doesn’t go back down.

Because Crystal sees red.

She’s put down hastily (by warm, warm, warm hands, how did she not notice their heat) and Gold’s voice raises again, fretting, arms flailing wildly in the air. “Oh, fuck, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, are you okay, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Crystal quickly steps back, silence. It’s Gold’s voice. It’s Gold’s hands. It’s Gold, by all accounts.

There are red lines over his skin and black in his eyes.

Fuck.

She doesn’t hear Silver coming, stealthy as he usually is, until the ginger ’s torso is between her and the one who may or may not be Gold. “What did I tell you?!”

The Gold-lookalike actually whines at that, looking down like a scolded puppy. “To let you talk to her first.”

“And what did you do?” Silver’s tone is steady, seemingly composed. In control.

His fingers are twitching, hands clasping at the air. Agitated. Not good.

“I stole your thunder?” He smiles sheepishly. All Crystal can see are teeth. “I’m sorry? I got excited, I just- I’m just so happy she’s okay.”

Yeah, no. Definitely not Gold. Too shameless. Too overt. Too impulsive, something Crystal would have never thought she’d say in her entire life.

“Groudon?” No. That’s not right either. She remembers all too well- a monstrous mountain of fire and fury. Groudon would never act… dare she says lovey dovey. Every single legendary she’d met til now were creatures of pride. No reason for Groudon to break the mold.

The one who is not Gold but might have been once- shrugs. He just- fucking- shrugs.

What the fuck.

“No.” says Silver, surprisingly much more helpful. “That’s not any more Groudon than it’s Gold. I think he’s a fusion of both. Takes traits from both.”

Crystal squints her eyes. “You think.” That would explain the weird behavior. And the absence of automatic maiming. A good theory. Why is it only a theory.

“He’s not exactly letting people get close to him, you know. And not everyone is a science genius like you.”

The thing in Gold’s body crosses his arms and- huffs. Pouts. A creature supposedly made of half of the avatar of the earth. Pouting.

Good to see some of Gold is still shining through.

“I don’t like humans.” He says. Ah. There it is, the anger. Groudon is bleeding through too, she sees. “They’re unreliable, stupid, weak, keep waking me up and trying to enslave me with this fucking orb to do dumb shit, and can’t even use a single ground of fire move. I just want to sleep. Is that too much to ask.”

Wow, no wonder he rules over mineral matter, considering how salty he is.

“…Thanks?” Crystal replies. Dumbly.

Silver winces. “Please don’t get him started on this. He runs on insane troll logic as much as Gold did.”

Goldron puffs his cheeks like a quilfish, offended. “Hey, it is logical. You guys don’t count. You hate humans too, and Crystal’s humanity is debatable anyway.”

What.

“What.”

Now that’s a new one.

Silver sighs. Loudly. “Can we not do that again. I’ve been dealing with that since this morning. Please. For my sanity.”

Crystal would normally disagree. But also Crystal did not typically argue with divine hybrids first thing getting out of the hospital. “So what, you’re sticking to us both because we’re better than most humans?”

He giggles. An actual, honest-to-god giggle.

(Gold never giggled. He snorted. He chuckled. He laughed. But he never giggled.)

“No, silly.” He smiles again. It’s wide and pointy, but what really gives Crystal shivers down her spine is that it’s genuine. “I’m doing this because I love you!”

Crystal,

doesn’t know

how to process that

“I love you! I love you both. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone.” Goldon repeats, cheerful, and he twirls like a dancer in his joy. “I was born loving you- I can feel it, right there!” He lays his palm on his own chest. “I love you. I love you. I want you guys safe and happy. And I would do anything for you.”

Crystal swallows. Hard.

Anything. That means a lot, anything. He could rein in lava and hate, for their sake. He could play human, for their sake.

He could kill, for their sake.

Crystal has no doubts that he wouldn’t even hesitate.

“I love you.” He continues, yellow eyes staring straight at her. There is something in those golden iris; something twitching and squirming like embers; something deep and ancient and profoundly deranged.

(And maybe the most jarring part is knowing that this- this undying loyalty, this willingness to become a saint or a monster at their command, cannot in any way be inherited from Groudon.)

“I was born to love you. And so love you I will.”

#au fanfic contest #submission #americanjack

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astrxd · 6 years

Text

Blade Work

A/N: I was frustrated with their portrayal in Mi Amore Wing so... This happened, really fast? :’) I’m out of practice, but I figured I’d share it anyway.

In her opinion, this was kind of rushing things. But, hey — as apprehensive as she was of the idea of marrying someone you’ve only known for upwards of a couple of months, give or take, Mala has always come across as a very sound-minded, reasonable woman. Astrid had no doubts that the Queen of the Defenders of the Wing could handle herself, and that didn’t change if she was in a relationship with Dagur. (Dagur, as in Dagur the Deranged, except he only displayed intermittent signs of slight insanity.)

...Of course, she’s seen the queen’s blade work, so she was more so concerned for Dagur than Mala. Seriously. If she could, Astrid would marry her blade work. Gods. It was that good.

She resolved to break the news to Hiccup as soon as she got the chance to talk to him alone.

They were set up in his hut, Toothless and Stormfly out on the deck. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in swirls of color, and all riders and dragons were enjoying some well-earned time to themselves. Ruff and Tuff were spending their break hounding Mala and Dagur about the wedding, unsurprisingly, but what was less of a shocker was that Astrid was with Hiccup.

“You know, with all the talk of weddings,” she started, fingers idly running over the shallow grooves of her axe head and making mental notes of where to later grind the metal while Hiccup ruminates over a few sheets of parchment. Her initial statement doesn’t pique his attention, but she doesn’t mind — she still had a couple more tricks up her sleeves. The blonde sets down her weapon and rises from her perch to look over Hiccup’s shoulder. “I started thinking. About, you know, about my own wedding—“

Hiccup had been chewing on the end of the stick of charcoal he was writing with, lost in thought, but when Astrid pipes up again, he pulls it from his mouth and his expression twists in disgust. Astrid barks out a short laugh, arms folding as she leans against his desk to watch his face go through a series of rather impressive contortions. “I’m–I’m sorry, what?” He sputters. “Did, did I hear that right, Astrid?”

“Yes, dork,” she confirms, but not without rolling her eyes, “you heard me.” Astrid catches his cheek in one hand and uses her other thumb to smudge the coal away from his lower lip and chin. Hiccup’s eyes are blown wide as he looks up at her and gods, she feels awful for finding this funny, but she’s not ready to throw in the towel just yet. “I was just thinking—“

“About? Thinking, thinking about?”

“Would it be possible—“

“If?”

“—I was just considering—“

“That?”

“Stop interrupting me!” Astrid tries to sound annoyed, but she can’t help the laughter that bubbles through her chest and past her lips. As a precaution to keep him from babbling, she presses his cheeks together until he looked… Like Snotlout posing in front of any reflective surface ever. But cuter. Hiccup tries to manage an apology, except all that she hears is a muffled ‘uhm shurry.’ “Jeez. Let a girl speak, would you? I was trying to say that, if Dagur wasn’t going to marry her, I would marry Mala—“

He makes a noise of pure indignation, hands flying to catch her waist, and Astrid struggles to contain her laughter at the urgency of his reaction.

“Mala’s blade work,” she finishes, moving her hands down to Hiccup’s shoulders. His relief is tangible and she shakes her head. “You need to start letting me finish my sentences, babe, or else you’ll give yourself a heart attack and you’ll blame me.”

“I find that, with most matters that have to do with my heart, it’s appropriate for me to blame you.” The sheepishness that had shone through his expression only moments ago has lapsed into something tinted with — was that… Pride? Oh, he was proud of himself for that comment. (Odin, help her. She was in love with him.) Astrid lifts a brow at him.

“That was…”

“Cute?”

“What did I just say about interrupting me?” Astrid warns, but there’s this broad grin on her face and a bright glimmer in her eyes. Hiccup laughs, one arm looping around her waist and tugging her close.

“Not to,” comes his dutiful response. “But, on the other hand, when do I ever listen to you the first time you tell me not to do something? It–it usually takes a couple of interventions. Two, three sometimes — maybe even four.” They share a smile, a knowing look… And it only takes so long before their foreheads are touching. Astrid has developed a certain fondness of standing between his knees while he sits. At first, when they were young, it had been a thing of pride; she was so used to being taller than him that, once those tables turned, Astrid found that looking up at him was strange and uncharted territory. Now, though — now, she just liked the proximity.

“...Okay. In all seriousness — how do you feel? About the Dagur and Mala lovey-dovey stuff?” Astrid bites her lower lip. The only thing that got under her skin was the fact that the others had the audacity to assume that she and Hiccup weren’t serious. While they weren’t obligated to prove anything to anyone, it was just — ugh. Ugh.

“Truthfully?” Hiccup snorts. “I’m glad that’s not us.”

Astrid raises a brow.

“No, no, no — hey, you–you stop that face right now. No. Astrid, I would love to marry you.” (Her heart flutters.) “I meant that I’m happy for them, but I like…” Hiccup moves his palms from her waist to catch her hands. He issues them a firm, reassuring squeeze. “I like us more. And I also like that you–you don’t ever punch me as hard as Mala punches Dagur.” She laughs, pulling a set of her fingers from his to gently slug them into his chest.

“Oh, but I could, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I also think you could hit me harder, and I don’t know if that’s something to be scared or proud of, frankly. Proud of, I think?”

“Good answer.” Astrid smirks, her fingers uncurling so that they were splayed against the flat of his chest. “I like us, too, Hiccup. So please never call me—“

“Astrid-poo?” Hiccup guessed — correctly. Astrid’s expression twists in utter distaste and he finds that funny. Hiccup mockingly pouts at her, fingers starting to flutter against her sides. “Astrid-poopy-poopy-poopy—“

She catches his wrists, keeping him from tickling her any further, and leans in to stare him down. “One more poopy and I’ll give you something to be really scared of, Haddock.”

He grins, tilting his head up to meet her halfway.

“Yes, ma’am, milady.”

Satisfied, she touches his cheek and kisses him gently. Astrid’s smile is sweet when she pulls back. “Better. Also, Hiccup?”

“Hm?”

“Sparring practice, five AM sharp tomorrow.” A slow grin appears on her face. “Bring your fire sword. We're doing blade work.”

“...I'm not saying 'yes, ma'am, milady' again, you know.” She pecks his cheek and snorts. “Y'just did, babe.”

#LMFAO??? idk tbh #it was quick n rough so...... i hope it's not terrible #hiccstrid #fanfiction #my writing #i'm not BACK back i'm still trash @ fic oop #like 1.2k words of what the fuck am i doing

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deansmultitudes · 2 years

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I was very angry over deans death and bashed jp when he said promoted finale. But seems like ja is ok with deans death since he calls himself no1 fan. I don't have much hopes for prequel since ja is a big John stan. Idk man, I don't buy CW sniper thing I think ja made his peace with finale and is proud of barn scene and that hurts me a lot.

Same, Nonnie, same. Though "I don't have much hopes for the prequel" is waaaay too generous. "Atrocity" is more like it.

Even if that thing crashes and burns (and god I hope it does, I'll throw a party on its ashes) a big part of my love for ja and any faith in him having anything akin to good taste are irrevocably gone.

It's not just disappointing but freaking awful that the man who played Dean for 15 years has so little compassion for him (cause there's no point in talking about "love" here) that he's excusing, praising, and celebrating his death AND forcing him to tell his abuser's cute, epic love story.

Dean lost more than his childhood to neglect, parentification, being turned into a soldier, doing the emotional labor at 4, cleaning his father’s messes even before the fire; he spent over a half of his life berated, burdened, humiliated, and physically and psychologicaly abused by his father. And then still long beyond that, Dean hated himself because of his father. Dean believed he was worthless, 90% crap, good for nothing but taking care of Sam because of his father.

For his entire life.

And as soon as he began to learn otherwise, he died. Before he got to live, love, make his own choices about his life, enjoy his freedom, dip his toes in the sand, he died.

(while cleaning his father's mess, again)

Only to be forced to spend his afterlife with his abusive father and tell HIS lovey-dovey story? Making him the huge hero who’d saved the world before Dean ever did?

Not to mention it will spawn fucking j*hngirls. Just thinking of it makes me feel sick. But hey, I guess then the number 1 j*hn stan will be surrounded by his own people, having chats about how awesome j*hn is 🙃🙃🙃

It's hurtful, very freaking hurtful, and I know I shouldn't care, it shouldn't hurt so much that some actor guy I'll never meet doesn't care about Dean but all those years of believing he did and that he faught for Dean and that he wanted best for him, the "first love of my life" and the "I got him"??? Fuckkkk, I can't express how much "I got him" meant to me and how that comfort got snatched away when it turned out to be a lie that he's only got him like you've got a cool tool in your toolbox that can make you more millions than it already did.

[I'm sorry I'm repeating myself, my brain's been on fire with all this crap for months]

And yeah the cw sniper theory is silly, and created by one fraction of the fandom and let's be real, it's not dean's death that most of them have a problem with.

Oh, and before I get called a deranged hater again, I wanna say that I'll continue to support JA as an actor in his future projects (ofc not this one) and respect him as a human being and a talented performer (though not as a "storyteller" or whatever since he has an awful taste) but I will never stop being deeply disappointed in him and angry about the prequel or hurt by his praise of the finale (and the finale itself ofc).

Actually, I wish I hated him, that'd be easier 🙄

I’m sorry, Nonnie, that I can’t offer you comforting words but I don't have any. It's just one big, open wound and JA keeps putting more salt in it whenever he says something about Dean. Since he moved on from caring about Dean, I hope he'll just move on from him entirely soon and stops talking about him (can we please move on from the cons as a society? We’ll all be much happier). Someone please give this man more work to hype instead (Kripke, s3 when???)

All I can offer is that you aren’t alone in this hurt and my askbox is open if you need someone to talk to.

Oh and I believe you made a typo, it's spelled j*hn. ;)

#how does one know Dean and don't love him? or ever stops loving him? baffling #how dare he say his favorite moment of dean's LIFE was his death?#but I guess he who lives with wolves learns to howl #anonymous #ask

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Text

Flood my Mornings: Climbing

Anon said: This is a prompt for Bonnie & FMM: since BabyBree is becoming quite the strong minded little lady, can we see her get into some antics at the worst possible time?

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Vermont (ii)

Fernacre, July, 1951

“JESUS, lass!” Jamie hissed as he lunged to snatch Bree mid-stride and prevent what would have been a flying leap off the picnic table. He forced himself to exhale before setting her onto her feet and asking, “Why in the name of all that is holy and right do ye turn demon the instant we go out in public?”

The demon giggled.

“Brianna, hear me, it’s no’ a game, this.” He dropped to a crouch before her, trying to keep his already-worn temper in check. “I mean it. NO climbing up upon things, d’ye hear?”

“Okayyyy!” she trilled, beaming with joy, already turning on her heel.

“Wait just there, we’re not—”

But she was already out of reach, scampering off to join a pack of other children headed toward the play-slides.

“Stay within the yard!” he called after her. “Heaven BLOODY help me,” he groaned under his breath in Gaelic, getting back to his feet and his conversation. “I’m terribly sorry for that wee hooligan, Tom.”

“It’s alright, bud,” Tom Harper laughed, handing him back his bottle of terrible American beer. “Kids will be kids, no harm done.”

“Perhaps it’s some great test of parenting, to see how well I cope wi’out Claire to hand....or how poorly, as the case might be.”

It was the annual Fernacre employee summer picnic, or as Bree saw it, a battlefield ripe for the carnage her impish soul apparently craved. Scarce an hour the two of them had been there, and she’d already knocked over a pitcher of Lemonade, bitten another child who had bumped into her, squirted tomato sauce all down her front, and managed to get a lollipop stuck in her hair. This was to say nothing of the tantrum on the car ride about not being able to see the clouds (it being a hot, blue day and there being no clouds), and several outbursts of language he was more than grateful Claire had not been present to overhear. Nine days out of ten, Bree’s heartbreaking sweetness outweighed the net destruction (though there was plenty of the latter in any given day, and no mistake); but there would be a full moon brewing in the sky this evening, certainly, for Brianna Fraser had come out IN FORCE.

“Really, though, she’ll grow out of it,” Tom said with a veteran’s confidence. “Our Rob was just the same at that age. It’s your first kiddo’s job to put you through the wringer. It’s in their contract and everything!” His wink went suddenly sideways as both brows furrowed over his Sunglasses. “Speaking of which, Claire’s okay, I hope?”

“Oh, aye, she’s well enough,” Jamie assured him, taking what restorative strength he could from the watery excuse for a draught. “The babe kept her up all through the night, and she didna think she could manage being out the heat, besides.”

“Don’t blame her one bit.” He wiped sweat from his forehead before adding significantly, “Not long, now, huh?”

“No,” he grinned back, “not long at all.”

Earlier that morning

“Will you absolutely hate me if I stay in bed today?”

“Of course not, mo nighean donn,” He tucked the covers more securely around her and then stood, looking around to see what he might bring her.

“Would it be pressing my good luck to beg you to take the monster with you?”

He kissed her, then Ian. “...Which one?”

“Oh, I'd happily give you BOTH, if I could!” She rubbed her now-still belly ruefully and winced a bit. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, little one, you have got to give Mummy a BREAK when she’s trying to sleep. We can’t keep having these midnight drill parades!”

A whinnying horse galloped into the room and catapulted herself onto the bed next to Claire. “Mum-ma, you comin’?”

“No, lovey,” Claire said, pulling Bree close into a great, warm hug. “Mummy’s going to stay here and take a nap.”

“Nappin’ isna FUN!”

“Oh, it’s LOADS of fun for me! But you and Daddy will go and have a lovely time at the picnic, just the two of you.”

Bree grumbled for a minute, then brightened. “Can’see iffee’s ‘wake? If Beeyin’s ‘wake?”

Claire smiled that warm, sweet smile he loved so well. She pulled up the hem of her nightshirt from under the blankets, patiently letting Bree inspect the whole expanse of her with exuberant pats.

After a few moments, Bree glowered up and whispered in a confidential yell, “I dinna heer’im.”

“I don’t feel him ei—Oh! There he is!”

Bree shrieked in delight, dissolving into insane giggles as she poked the heaving mass back to and fro. At such a degree of intensity, it was rather like the game Jamie had seen the Fair where you clubbed the stuffed groundhog with a mallet only to have another pop up on the other side. ‘Clubbed’ indeed, for Claire was obliged to grab Bree’s hands and croon, “Gently, Bree, baby, *gently*...”

After a long, peaceful while, Claire happened to glance up and catch his expression. She was a canny one, his wife, and she gave him a gimlet eye at once. “And just what are you smirking at like a cat in the cream?”

In truth, he WAS grinning, so widely he must have looked positively deranged. “You. are. SO. BIG.”

“You ARSE,” she laughed, managing to land him a kick in the belly even through the blankets.

“Ye ARE! I mean, LOOK!” He came to sit on the edge of the bed and joined Bree in outlining just how massive she was. “Big as a—a—”

“A HOUSE!” Bree finished helpfully, “or A ‘POTTAMUS!”

“I do hope wee Ian comes out a fair shade more polite and complimentary than YOU lot,” Claire said, splitting a glare between the pair of them.

“And just think, you’ve *two weeks more,* forbye.”

“One and a half, thank you very much,” she corrected primly.

“But let’s just stop and consider.” He raised a significant brow. “Should wee Ian see fit to bide his time…”

“Don't EVEN suggest it.”

“....It could be THREE weeks more...” He was having trouble speaking normally through the bubbling laughter. “....or even FOUR, until—”

“You wish four more weeks upon me, Jamie Fraser, and I will make you wish otherwise.”

Bree turned her coat in a flash. “Don’ wisp that at Mum-ma, Da.”

“Oh, verra well, if ye say so,” he said, mock-abashed, with a wink at his wife. Glancing at his watch, he groaned and straightened with a yawn. Claire’s tossing and turning in the night from Ian’s acrobatics hadn’t done him any favors, either. “Alright, a leannan, let’s see to your clothes and get along to the picnic.”

“You really do delight in seeing me as huge as a beached whale, don't you?” Claire asked sardonically as Bree scurried from the room, cheering.

“Aye, I do,” he admitted freely, wrapping both his arms around her and nuzzling his nose against hers. “Truly one of the happiest sights I’ve ever seen.”

In the cave, he had many a time wondered—longingly—what Claire might look like at the time of her full term; and what he had imagined paled in comparison. She was full and lush in every single inch of her. Hair thick and glossy. Skin softly glowing like sunlight on a flower petal. Whisky eyes seeming to sparkle with the same light, heavy with a soft, sleepy happiness. Claire was absolutely exquisite in this height of her bearing, and he would happily spend all his days glorying in the memory of her, this way.

“I never imagined...” He bent and laid a kiss on her straining navel, reflecting that spending a fair number of those days in good fun and laughter would *also* be greatly rewarding. “...that anyone could get even bigger wi’ child than JENNY.”

“Bree!” Claire shouted, swatting him with a pillow as he lunged up to kiss her cheeks and neck ferociously, “tell your Da to take his imagination and shove it up his—”

A crash sounded from the other room, followed by a ‘whoops-eeee’, which, in retrospect, had not boded well for the rest of the day

“MISTER FRASER!!!”

His head whipped around so fast he heard his neck crack.

She was on the top rung of the fence separating the yard from the adjacent pasture, and he felt his heart stop as she fell from it headfirst.

The next moments as he sprinted toward her seemed to pass as slowly as in a dream. He could hear shouts and cries behind him, but he didn’t stop for an instant until he was vaulting over the fence and snatching her up off her back. He didn’t remember what words he may have uttered, or in what language, but a few moments later, he was exhaling in great gasps of relief seeing that she was conscious and not injured, just badly scared with the breath knocked out of her.

Dazed, she began to cry with great long wails that drove away the two mares that had come to investigate the visitor to their pasture. Thank the Lord she hadn’t chosen the next paddock over, where the true brawlers were kept.

“You’re alright?” he demanded once more as he got back to the right side of the fence, vaguely aware he was speaking in Gaelic. “You’re not hurt?”

She coughed and gasped for breath, considered, then showed him, lips trembling, a slightly-red patch on the fleshy part of her palm.

He laid a fervent kiss in her hand—silently praising heaven she hadn’t broken the wrist, for all that she was still crying like a banshee—and then could contain himself no longer.

“What did I say about climbing?” His teeth were gritted tight and his hands were shaking even as they strove to remain gentle. “AND about wandering off??”

“I din’knowww,” she wailed, hearing his tone and trying to hide her face in his chest.

“Ye DO know.” He pulled her up and made her look at him. “Brianna Ellen, ye must listen to what I say! Don’t ye understand ye could have gotten very badly hurt? Lass, look at me.”

She was sobbing, now, working herself up into hysterics. “C—can—na—”

“Why not?”

“Cause—mad—dit—m—meee—”

He went completely still at that. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, deep breath.

Help me, Da.

With gestures and apologetic looks, he shooed the well-meaning onlookers back to their picnic and made for the big oak tree in the opposite corner of the yard. It was well-shaded, and he sat down against the trunk, holding his daughter to his chest as she sobbed against his shoulder.

Thank God she wasn’t hurt. Thank GOD.

“Bree, cub?” The walk had calmed him, and he was glad to hear his voice was gentle and soft. “Look at me, aye?”

After a moment, she glanced timidly up (face red as an apple and covered in liquids of all description) and he smiled at her, stroking her cheek and her hair. “I’m here, a leannan. It’s just me...just Da... I love you.”

“Love—” she hiccuped through her tears, “—too.”

He kissed her and held her close for a minute before setting her on his legs facing him and saying gravely, “But ye made me verra afraid today, a chuisle. Ye disobeyed and could have hurt yourself.”

“I did’nint mean to,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Aye, I ken ye didna mean to get hurt,” he said, gently pulling her fists away from her face, “but ye meant to be climbing the fence, even after I told ye not.”

“...It was fun, though,” she offered with a shrug, voice tremulously defiant.

“Aye, well...”

Come on, Da.... How would ye have explained this to me?

A shrill whinny sounded in the distance, then another, and Jamie glanced around to see the two sorrel foals playing together in the south pasture, teasing and prancing about one another.

He smiled and felt peace whispering through the grasses. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away.

“Ye ken, when wee Ian is born, Bree, he’s going to grow up fast. Before long, he’ll be as big as you and running about on his own! And you’ll want your wee brother to be safe, aye?”

She straightened at that, no longer crying. Bairn safety was no small matter, in her book. She nodded.

“Say there were something like a great, nasty snake crawling about in the grass about to bite your brother on the foot.....Would ye just stand by and let him be hurt?”

Brianna looked up at him in absolute affront. “NO, I’d kill dat snake!”

He very nearly choked, but managed to keep a moderately straight face. Call upon a Fraser, and a Fraser ye shall get, he supposed; but he cleared his throat and plunged on, determined to make his point. “But what if wee Ian didna understand the beast was dangerous? What if he went running to the snake because he thought it would be fun to play wi’ it?”

“Well...I jus’tell him not.”

“Aye, just so,” he said, “because we have to protect the people we love, d’ye see?”

“Uh-huh.” She was staring up at him, rapt but not quite understanding.

“So when I tell ye not to do things like climb the fence, mo chridhe, it’s only to keep ye safe, to keep ye getting hurt because I love you so. And when the bairn comes, it’ll be your job to keep him safe, too.”

She nodded emphatically. “I’ll do him safe, Da, promise.”

“But that means ye have to keep yourself safe, as well. Elder sisters have to be the best at obeying Mam and Da so the smaller bairns ken what’s the right way of things. Can ye do that?”

“Aye,” she said at once. “I’ll ‘bey.”

For precisely sixty seconds out of every hour, he predicted.

“Hear me, though, Bree: the next time ye disobey like ye did today, I shall have to strap ye. I dinna want to do it, not one bit, but it’s how you’ll learn. Are we understood?

“....What’s s-tuh-rap?”

“Getting smacked hard on the bottom wi’ a belt.”

“Hard?” she clarified, shocked.

“Aye, hard enough that it hurts.”

“But ye said—” She scrunched up her face and gestured with both hands. “NOT do things to KEEP me of getting hurted....”

A Dhia, Da, he laughed silently, how by all the saints did ye raise three—

“JAMIE!!”

His head snapped up and he saw Marian rushing down from the house, beckoning wildly, with a look of—

“Da—ddy—” Bree gasped out from where she bounced against his shoulder. “Why we runnin’?”

His heart was pounding.

“Because your brother has decided he’s going to arrive early.”

#;mod bonnie #Flood my mornings

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sapphogator · 7 years

Text

Thoughts and Commentary on Suicide, Drug Use, and Recovery

TW (obvs): violence, drugs, suicide, rape, mental instability, etc.

It’s May 18th, 2017 and I just woke up to hear that Chris Cornell, another legend of rock and grunge, died last night. Being investigated as suicide, all that usual stuff. Yesterday, a friend of mine’s father died of a heroin overdose (most likely due to it being laced with fentanyl (and way to much of it, at that). And it got me thinking about shit.

In a way, I was lucky. Lucky for me, and unfortunate for her, that I decided to beat the living shit out of my tormentor before making the conscious decision to end my life. It prompted 911 to be called, for me to get arrested and subsequently beaten up by cops, then shipped off to the looney bin where I was prescribed medicine for my bipolar disorder and suicide ideation. And weaned off of the various opioids I had been abusing for the good part of....maybe 8 months. And very seriously abusing for probably four of those months. (Thanks!)

I was plotting my demise for the good part of the summer. I got swept up in all that lovey shit with a person who moved too fast, and as my mental health deteriorated from the “is she going to be nice today or is she going to start arguments and drive me crazy?” ragtag mess that was my life, she decided to break up with me but still needed me to “help her” both mentally and often times physically. I was loveless, jobless for a while because of the stress that came with working for a bad boss, and directionless for a good part of the summer. It wasn’t all her fault. It was my fault too for being a fucking idiot and not listening to the loud blaring warning sirens yelling “RUN! GET AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE!” It was my fault for thinking that that particular life was sustainable. It was my fault for ignoring the warning signs that my mental health was beginning to seriously fail. And it was my fault for failing to realize that if you have to pop various benzos and opioids before hanging out with someone just to handle them, that you maybe shouldn't hang out with them. (I seriously was so doped up for a good part of the summer just so i’d be more agreeable and not trigger her temper)

In early September, I got raped after hanging out with one of the friends she had introduced me to. It was one of those “he’s awful except he’s good to me” scenarios from her, the ex-girlfriend, and since she invited him to a lot of the things we did, I figured, “Eyy, he’s texting me to hang out, might as well.” Ha, nope. He made my drinks extra strong, raped me all night, then denied it up and down afterwards, sending me threatening text messages. I, broken and in intense pain, slinked to her doorstep for help and I honestly think she was more mad that we “slept together” rather than the fact that I was raped. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Okay, Kate. I did the full precautionary measure where I went to Planned Parenthood, got a bunch of STD tests and pamphlets on what to do when you’ve been raped. I was afraid that he was going to hurt her or me since he apparently killed a guy in a fight once (who fucking knows?) so I just kept quiet about it. I still have bad nightmares almost every night from this to this day, despite being in an actual wonderful mood all the time now. The rape weighed especially heavy on me. I was sick of nothing going right and always having to be there for people and support them. Always having to be the butt of the joke. No future. I didn’t want to turn 27 and I had stated multiple times that I wanted to die before my birthday. The days leading up to my 27th were awful and full of lies and my ex still pulling me along but talking to some 19 year old girl who was also talking to me.

Then, the 7th of November. I stayed home from work and was stressed the fuck out because my grandfather was admitted to the hospital for heart problems. I was going to get dressed and visit my family that day but then she came home from work. Suggested Chinese. Decided to look it up on my computer. Oh no, computer is dying, better get the charger from upstairs. Oh, is that her phone buzzing....curiosity took over. Oh wow, her and that 19 year old are talking shit on me about how i’m “retarded”. Snap. Crackle. Pop!

I run downstairs to confront her, she gets pissed that I looked at her phone (haha. Note: she had snooped through mine without my permission before) and tried to leave. Tried. Never made it to the door. I drag her down the stairs and start smashing vases and boxes over her head. Punching, screaming. I call up the 19 year old and tell her what she has caused (just to scare the ever-living shit out of her). I then decide to take my leave, take my final bow, game over. I run in front of a semi truck but by some miracle I still can’t explain....it stops. Angry, i run in front of car after car, barefoot and deranged. Police pick me up. Police berate me. Police take me to the station and proceed to beat me, especially after i try to hang myself in the cell. They finally 302 me because I’m essentially foaming at the mouth and screaming that I want to die. The hospital finds gargantuan amounts of opioids in my system and ask if i’m doing heroin. (haha, nah man, it’s just everything else.) I get shipped off to a mental hospital for the good part of a week. Immediately after my release, I spend the day in a cell block waiting for the judge to say “yeah you’re released on bail. come back in a few months.”

And that was my lucky break. Cause without that catalyst. Without that day of complete and utter chaos, I would be dead instead of talking to you right now. I know for a fact that I would have ended up killing myself by the end of that week. I was taking entire packages of trams at a time. Since the entire package didn’t work that previous night I was going to stuff 4 or 5 packages into me. I know she wishes I did just that, but fuck her to be honest. I have no feelings for her anymore, no good and no bad. I only wish for her to stay the hell out of my life, which I think she will.

I guess, what I’m trying to say with all of this, is that I wish more people got as lucky as I did. Either that their plan of demise caused so much chaos that it alerted people to it or that they somehow found help before the pain became too much. So many people just quietly slip away without anyone knowing until it’s too late. So many people fade away.

One of my favorite musicians, Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day, fell apart very very publicly. Like me, he didn’t just burn out, he flared out like a fucking atom bomb and people were able to step in and help. But like Chris Cornell, like my friend’s dad, they just silently slipped out the door, not making much of a sound. And then when they were discovered, it was heartbreak and pain for all that is left around them.

I guess this is a thought piece. I’m not sure why I was compelled to tell you this story, but here it is. I was in such a bad place last year, but here I am, still breathing. Slowly, but surely, getting better.

If anyone feels like shit, if anyone feels like they’re going to be ducking out soon, I urge you to stay. You can get help, you are not beyond it. If your family and friends aren't helping, if they aren’t seeing it, find someone who will. There are doctors, nurses, and professionals who would be so happy to help you get back on your feet. They’ll help you mentally and help you find a plan to get you to success. You’re not too far gone. You are never beyond help or hope, friends. <3

This is the suicide prevention hotline for the United States: 1-800-273-8255

Take care of yourselves.

#essays & memoirs #suicide prevention #drug use #recovery #rape tw #mental illness

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