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visoredude · 2 years

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Of thoughts unspoken and feelings unprocessed

I read somewhere— if you’re overthinking, you write. So here I am, at 1 am, Peach Soju at my left, and my phone playing my private playlist. I’m writing my think piece wearing my comfort jacket (my gray jacket). The one piece of clothing from my past that constantly reminded me that I was once full of life, full of love to give, and… happy.

Maybe let’s start on March 23, 2022. That was when I first started running for fitness around fpark. That was the first time I decided for myself that I would improve myself; physically, mentally, and emotionally. That went on for 7 days ‘till I injured myself. That was okay. I was so eager to exercise every day. Why? It was because, for the first time since 2016, I was happy with myself. I was happy with where I was, and who I was. I stopped due to my injury, but I was genuinely happy.

For two months, I felt content with myself. Outside the anxieties and breakdowns my academic requirements gave, I felt like I was being a better version of myself. It was two months of thinking I am maybe in a good place. After all, I became better at managing my life. I was also with great company. The best company I could ever ask for.

As it turns out, progress is never linear. The weight of the semester got heavy as time went on. The first big disappointment I had with myself was not being able to have my thesis outline approved. I’m not going to be able to graduate on time. I felt so ashamed that I ghosted my Pasig friends for weeks. I have no idea how I would face them. These were people that I gave my time and effort to take care of during our high school days and, to see them do well in their respective fields, made me proud of them, but hugely disappointed in myself.

There was this lingering feeling I have failed them. There still is.

I tried to brush off those feelings. I tried to focus on my remaining courses. For the most part, I was able to comply, albeit some were late. I apologize for that.

June 2, 2022. I found out my uncle passed away— through a Facebook post. NO ONE TOLD ME. Not one of my family members informed me. I wasn’t close with him, but the man’s practically there all my life. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t devasted. But the fact that no one told me personally? No one messaged me. I was deeply hurt. No matter how distant I was emotionally with my family, they were still family. And I… was still family. Why wouldn’t anyone tell me? I went home and, because of my requirements, I was not able to process my grief. Until now, I still haven’t processed my grief. I went back to elbi with all the baggage that I HAD to put aside because I had more immediate concerns— my remaining academic requirements. However bad things were in my personal life, I still tried to keep myself together, so I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. Beyond my requirements, I still needed to keep myself together so I can still manage my relationship(s). Properly. With my family. With my friends. With Marx. I cannot be the one to fall apart. So I tried, desperately, to hold myself together. Needless to say, I was… unsuccessful. At times when I was alone in my small room, I fell apart. Broke down more times than I could remember. I relapsed hard. Once again, I felt extremely disappointed with myself because I wasn’t able to hold myself together.

It was Wednesday last week, July 27, 2022, when I went home. I once again was disappointed in myself for not being able to finish my manuscript. I was able to process that, however. I went home to take a break. And it was on my way home, with my mommy, that I found out my father had an accident. An accident a day after I went back to elbi. July 4, 2022. Once again, NO ONE TOLD ME. Why? Why didn’t anyone tell me my own father had an accident for almost a month now? I’m still their son, am I not? Even after everything, and despite my sexuality and my beliefs, I’m still their son. So why wasn’t I informed? Now, where do I stand with my own parents? With my own family?

I went back to elbi because I couldn’t bear feeling any more out of place than I did. I felt alone. I feel alone.

Now I lay down my thoughts and feelings with Marx. Those two months I got to spend with him were among the best I had in years. And I… regret that I had confronted him. June 28, 2022. Maybe, had I kept things to myself, maybe we wouldn’t have stopped. Because I never wanted it to stop.

The relapse I had when after learning of my uncle’s passing was among the worst I ever had. I was not able to think clearly, was extremely sensitive, and was extremely emotional. Every day, I was always on the verge of breaking down. He kept me sane whenever we were together. But when left alone, I crumble. In all honesty, whenever I had to do my problem sets, I wanted him there with me, as I was with him. In 170 especially, I would ask if he can accompany me because I was stressed the fuck out. He can’t. And I understand. I really did. But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel frustrated. I tried not to. I genuinely did. But that was okay. After a while, after finishing, everything would be okay. Kind of. I don’t know.

When his semester ended, we stopped seeing each other. For a while. I felt like there wasn’t any more reason for him to spend some time with me. On god, I desperately wished he would stay with me as I try to finish everything. But he was drained. And I understand that. I just felt insignificant, to him, when I would ask him to come, and his reply was he was socially drained. Why did that include me? Was I doing anything wrong?

All my frustrations built up, and I couldn’t take it. After days of asking him if I could talk to him, we finally did. It was there I realized, that I should have been more sensitive to his feelings. Maybe, I shouldn’t have talked. I may have been selfish because I was too caught up with myself, I may have forgotten he was dealing with loss. A feeling I should have recognized, as I myself was also grieving.

For now, we can only be friends. And while I told him that I would wait for the day he’d be ready to continue things with me again, I admit that it’s not easy. And it never got easy.

The thing is, we met at a time I was happy and content with who and where I was, right? I was at my best. And I thought, maybe things could go right. I can do things right. I had hoped that it would work because, for the first time in a long time, I can start building a relationship at a time when I actually loved myself. And, maybe, I can share and give him the right kind of love he deserves from me.

Things didn’t work.

I am willing to wait. But in all honestly, I really have no hope at all— that things between us would continue.

In actuality, I feel like romantic relationships aren’t for me. After all, the fact that I was at my best version that I can be with Marx and things still didn’t work out, maybe it just isn’t for me.

Right now, I’m facing a lot of uncertainties. I am uncertain where I stand with my family. Uncertain where I can place myself with my friends. Uncertain about my thesis. Uncertain about my life after graduation. And uncertain where I stand with Marx. I am tired of all these uncertainties. I’m still fighting, but I don’t see an end.

I just need one sure thing in my life. Just one. One thing.

But it’s okay. I understand everything. I do. I just need to voice out my thoughts and process my feelings. And maybe— tomorrow— everything will be better.

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writing-in-a-chipotle · 3 years

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Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitriscu x reader #my fic #my writing #gender neutral reader #reader insert #re8 #surprise y’all I love cliffhangers :)#suffer :))))

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xeulousluv · 3 years

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Almost

AN: Hello everyone, I am fairly new to posting on this app, so therefore I am still learning how to use it. Hehe :) Anyways, I hope you are having a great day!

Warning: Nothing really, maybe a little bit of angst?

Zayn and Y/n broke up and all he’s left with are the videos she took during their senior year of high school.

September 1st, 2010:

The camera was set up in her hand as she was slightly fixing her hair, a huge smile plastered on her makeup covered face. He always thought she looked better without makeup, but sometimes you couldn’t beat the insecurities.

“Here we are, the first day of senior year! How are we feeling, Zayn?”

Next to her stood himself, a much younger version of himself. Two years to be exact. He was almost unrecognizabel, with his usual high school attire adoring his body. A white tee-shirt, black skinny jeans, and not to mention his varsity football jacket hanging off of his shoulders. She looked lovingly at her boyfriend, her eyelashes beating against the softness of her rounded cheeks.

“I’m ready to get out of here, the last three years were the upmost worst years of my life.” Zayn spoke truthfully, he hadn’t expected to make it past the ninth grade, but with the help of Y/n, he managed to make it all the way to his graduating year. Y/n gave him an offended look before responding, “Hey! If it weren’t for these last three years, you would’ve never met me, let alone had the courage to talk to me. Am I really that bad?”

She laughed out while speaking, all so he knows that she is joking and would never accuse him of thinking such things. Though, he was already two steps ahead of her and was laughing along at her sad attempt of looking offended. “Of course not, baby. You are what kept me going.” With that, Zayn kissed her temple and she let out a small giggle before stopping the camera.

September 5th, 2010:

Random small talk was heard on the computer sitting in front of Zayn, before her face showed with a bright glow. She was so beautiful it almost hurt. She was laughing at something her friend Emery said, though it was completely inaudible, he just let the smile take over his face hearing her laugh again.

“I don’t exactly know why I turned this on, but hello! We successfully made it through the first week of school, and let me just say, it was not fun. The teachers still hate me.” Again, Y/n laughed towards the camera.

“I remember this one time last year when Mr. Lambert threw me out of class because I wouldn’t stop laughing. In my defence, he was talking about the safety of condoms and Zayn kept mocking him. That was a detention worth going to.” Zayn remembered that day clearly. He sat to the left of Y/n, Mr. Lambert’s first mistake, and would whisper in her ear how he would show her the proper way to wear a condom when they got to her house that night. To say he did end up showing her was an understatement.

The camera then turned to her friend before she continued on with what she was saying, “Anyways, Emery here, has informed me about this back to school party for seniors at Anthony Stilettos house. So, we are heading to the mall so we can get a nice looking outfit for tonight. I’ll see you guys later!” And with that the camera switched off.

He thought that was the end of the video, but when she popped back on his screen, he was pleasantly surprised. She wore a black dress that just reached her knees, the end of it rippled and flew each time she took a step. Her hair and makeup was done, and her shoes matched her dress, she really was the most beautiful person he has ever met.

Without saying anything, Y/n moved the camera to where the view was now on Emery. She wore a simple tight red dress that fit her like a glove, she was placing bobby pins in her hair before realising a camera was watching her every move. Emery turned away from the mirror Y/n had in her room, and started making random poses into the camera. The video finally ended with Y/n facing the camera back to herself while laughing at it.

October 7th, 2010:

It was homecoming. Their final homecoming, and of course, Zayn asked her to be his date. He didn’t go all out like the previous years, this particular year was asked right after they finished giving each other their all. They were bunched up together, all sweaty and breathless, and that is when Zayn asked her to go to homecoming with him. He thought it was gross because of their previous activities, but Y/n thought it was sweet, endearing even. It was personal and intimate, she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Plus, she was tired of all the attention that comes with getting asked to homecoming.

Her dress was a beautiful shade of baby yellow, Zayn wore his usual black suit but with a yellow tie and a yellow rose pinned to his coat pocket. The night couldn’t have been anymore magical.

“Z, are you ready to go? Emmy and Dallas are waiting in the car.” Her soft voice echoed through the speakers, she was worried about being late. But more so, excited about what the night had planned for the couple. Zayn was fixing his hair, like he does any other day, however today, he wanted to look his absolute best. “Just one more second, love. Gotta look perfect before leaving these four secured walls.”

Y/n rolled her eyes into the camera before another smile took over her face. It only got wider as he finally announced that he was ready.

“Baby, you look handsome! You don’t need all that hair gel, make one wrong move and we’re calling you Uncle Jesse.” Zayn scoffed, his hands finding their place on her hips, him being pressed up against her back. His chin resting on her shoulder, they looked so in love. They were so in love.

October 31st, 2010:

Fall was Y/n’s favorite season, meaning Halloween was by far her favorite holiday. She squealed into the camera when Zayn walked out in his Peter Pan costume. “Baby, you look so fucking adorable!” She cooed, though Zayn was having none of it. “Do we have to go to this party? Can’t we just stay in and watch scary movies, I promise I will protect you if you get too scared!”

He knew it was no use, Y/n had been going on and on about Anthony’s costume party for the past week, so when she started laughing, Zayn internally groaned. “Brave of you to assume I will get scared during a horror movie. How about we go for just an hour, then you and I can come back here and watch whatever movie you want?”

At that, his ears perked, he could go for an hour. That gives him all the more time alone with his love. “Hocus Pocus? That’s my favorite.”

“Yes baby, we can watch Hocus Pocus, do this for me, and I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” A grin was stretched across his face as she leaned up and gave a peck to his lips. Adoration shining brightly in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You are so lucky I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you, Zayn. More than you will ever know.”

December 31st, 2010:

“Hola, my favorite people! Happy New Years Eve, I hope you guys are having a good day. My family is having a little party to bring in the new year, even though you won’t be watching this until later when I decide to post it, I hope you guys have an amazing holiday. Be safe now. Bye!”

Christmas and New Year’s was hard for Y/n. She had major separation anxiety for everyone she grows close to, so not being able to see the people she loves for a whole two weeks was taking a toll on her. Not to mention, Zayn went back to Bradford for the holidays, so he wasn’t there to keep her calm. All she had was the emails and messages he would send her.

However, that night was different. She didn’t know what it was, but the air felt more intoxicating. There was something she was missing and the young girl couldn’t put her finger on it.

Emery got ahold of Y/n’s camera without her noticing, pressing the ‘record’ button and smiling.

“Hi, as many of you may know, my name is Emery White. Before questions start racing through your head about where Y/n is, she is currently in the kitchen talking to one of her neighbors, and she knows nothing about this so, shhh!” Emery held her index finger up to her mouth, even though she is talking to a camera.

“So, the time is now 11:58, meaning it is almost New Year’s and I got a message from a good friend of mine to get her camera and start recording. Oh wait, she’s coming over! Act normal!”

“Emmy? Why do you have my camera, wait no, when did you get my camera?” Emery turned her neck to look at Y/n, and smiled while looking at her friends confused face. “It’s almost midnight, I figured we could record the big moment for your journal thing.”

Y/n looked at her watch and sure enough, it was 12:59, and the people around her were counting down. By the time Y/n looked back at her friend, Emery had switched her position to behind the camera, her smile now stretching to her eyes. She gave a confused smile towards the camera before shaking her head.

10..

9..

8..

A tap was felt on Y/n’s shoulder making her turn around, not believing her eyes, she had to do a double take. There he was in all of his glory. Zayn stood in front of her with a bouquet of random flowers, her eyes widening in complete shock.

3..

2..

Before she could fully process his presence, Zayn had planted his lips against hers in what he would call, one of their best kisses. His arms went around her waist while hers were around his neck, keeping him as close as humanly possible. She was the first to pull away from the kiss, tears forming at the bottom of her eyes but never fell. Zayn pulled her back, this time her face went into his neck as he whispered out a small, “Happy New Years, baby.”

May 22nd, 2011:

Senior prom, a day Y/n has waited her entire life for. Getting all dolled up for one night of perfection sounded glorious. Unlike most people, her dress doesn’t reach the floor but goes a little ways past her knees. It was a light shade of green, she wasn’t usually one for the cliche pink and blue, and her stomach was laced over showing her belly button peircing. She felt on top of the world, the most gorgeous she has ever felt in her entire life.

Zayn was in a nude tuxedo, a lightish green tie tucked into the blazer. “It’s prom day, baby, how do you feel?” The now well-known camera placed in front of his face, though he paid no attention to it, but really the girl behind it. “Like I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world. How did I get so lucky, hm?”

The blush was evident on her face, he could see it perfectly now even with the camera facing him and not herself. He could still see the light in her eyes. Looking back on it, he couldn’t imagine living his life without her, how could he let her go?

It wasn’t like they got in a fight or anything, Zayn and Y/n were going to different colleges and he didn’t want to do the whole long distance thing. He felt she deserved better than that. So even though the breakup was absolutely not a mutual agreement, Y/n somewhat understood and let him walk away.

“You’re such the charmer, Zayn. Always got me blushing for no good reason.”

“I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t.”

Now turning the camera to face both of them, Zayn placed a kiss on her lips before turning off the camera and letting their night go on as best as it could, for it would be one of the last good memories they have. Except at the time, neither of them knew the last time would actually be the last time.

June 4th, 2011:

“Hey everyone, I just want to start off by saying congratulations, we made it. Graduating today was the most amazing feelings, and I’m sure you all can agree with me. The past four years have really taught me a lot, I know I sound like the Mallory Barnes, our valedictorian that gave the speech today, but I’m serious, you all have been amazing. Teachers included.”

Y/n wasn’t in her usual attire. She was in a comfortable baggy hoodie, and that’s all you could see as her camera was propped on the desk in the corner of the room. Her hair was in a messy bun, no makeup, and her glasses were sat perfectly on her nose. What no one could notice was the slight puffiness to her eyes, the way they were red and tired. But Zayn noticed, however. When Y/n first uploaded this to her instagram, Zayn couldn’t bare to watch it, so seeing it now definitely brought back a feeling he tried too hard to push away.

“In the past four years I have learned about friendships, I learned about love, and I learned about heartbreak. I have got to say, high school brought me some really great friendships that I will cherish forever. I am finding it very difficult to say goodbye, but we are bound to go off and do bigger and better things. The future awaits for us.”

“I just want to thank you guys for the amazing memories, and I hope you guys make your dreams come true.” Y/n sighed into the camera, she was really bad at saying goodbye, though you would think it would be easier considering no one likes high school. However, Y/n loved every single second of it, maybe not the learning but the memories made.

“Now, I am going to get really sappy for a minute and say a massive thank you to the man who has loved me for the past four years. Zayn, I know we haven’t talked in a few weeks, and you’re probably not even watching this, but just know that I am so proud of you. I don’t know how I could not be. I really hope you make something wonderful of yourself. You were by far my favorite part of this journey. Thank you for sticking with me and for loving me. And even though we aren’t together anymore, I love you.”

“We almost had it all, didn’t we?”

AN: Yeah, I don't think I like this babahahah. Love the concept but someone out there could definitely write it better.

#zayn mailk #zayn x reader #zayn malik fanfic #zayn malik angst #angst fanfic

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years

Text

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story)

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #from anu's quill #hp #harry potter #george weasley

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queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 8

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8

Billy read through the file on his desk for the third time that day. After the night of the gala he’d hired an investigator to gather info on you, and now all the major events in your life were neatly encompassed in a red folder, ready for his perusal. Despite your refusal to share anything, he’d managed to learn a lot about you reading your file. Except instead of giving him clarity on you, the documents triggered an avalanche of questions and emotions that left him rattled.

You grew up in the projects, in a poor neighbourhood in Chicago, but had managed to wrangle your way into a state university. He knew how expensive those were, and even with the scholarships you’d earned it was almost impossible for someone in your socio-economic background to be able to attend college – but you had, and judging by your relatively low student loans it wasn’t simply due to luck. Billy had learned a long time ago that when opportunities presented themselves, he had to make quick and tough decisions to get ahead. Rawlins had presented such an opportunity, which had given Billy the cashflow he needed to start Anvil. Who was your Rawlins, he wondered.

Throughout college you interned at a moderately-sized company in Chicago and they hired you immediately upon graduation. You never looked back after that, moving from firm to firm while going up the corporate ladder. There were so many things about your life you didn’t share with Billy but you had been honest about one thing – Anvil couldn’t afford you. If he’d hired you, your salary would be on par with his.

Billy still remembered when he’d signed his first lucrative contract. He’d been eyeing the Wraith for months prior to that, and as soon as he could justify the purchase he did. The penthouse in a luxury high-rise building came next. You, however, were the complete opposite of him. You owned your condo, and while it was nice and in a decent neighbourhood, it certainly wasn’t a luxury purchase. You were careful with your money, except when it came to shoes. Based on your credit card records, you bought a lot but the ridiculously expensive purchases weren’t as numerous. He guessed those were the ones you bought when you were especially troubled, like Davina had said.

Billy had pored over your life starting from where you were now all the way back to your childhood. The first time he read the child abuse investigation report in your file was two days ago, and it had taken him hours to finish because of the sheer rage it provoked in him. It was an incident reported by one of your teachers after you’d shown up to school with bruises and burn marks. Of course the child protective services had done nothing, you’d been returned to your parents. There were no other reports filed after that but abuse that vicious didn’t stop just because the cops came around. Your parents probably just learned not to leave visible bruises. Billy was all too familiar with that kind of violence and realizing you went through the same made him want to destroy every fucking person in your life that ever hurt you.

“I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy.”

Your words still rung in his ears. They had haunted him for a week now. He could still remember the strange look of apathy on your face even though your words were obviously coming from a place of hurt and anger. At the time he didn’t know what you meant, but now he understood and it both sickened and infuriated him that you felt threatened by him. What could he have possibly done to conjure the same fear in you as your goddamn family? How could you compare him to them?

“You will not destroy me.”

Your voice had been steady and calm when you said the words, a complete contrast to the confusion he’d been feeling. Fine, he may not have recognized your worth sooner before but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt you. Yet you’d accused him of doing just that and it pissed the fuck out of him. Yeah he’d bragged about Anvil to Roger but that was to get you actual protection and keep you safe – something your precious fucking Roger should have done from day one. Corporations didn’t give a fuck about their employees until their bottom lines were threatened and knowing a competitor had access to that kind of info meant bad PR for Valiant. You were smart, you should have realized exactly why Billy had played that card but instead you chose to be willfully blind and accuse him of jeopardizing your job. It made him so angry that it had taken every bit of willpower he had not to shake the stupidity out of you.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Upon seeing who it was, he picked it up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Hey, boss. Just wanted to give you a heads up. Looks like she’s lost her tail. Didn’t even take her that long. The guy’s an idiot.”

Frustrated, Billy ran his fingers through his hair. The little talk with Roger had worked and Valiant had assigned a bodyguard to you, but like everything else about the company, the guard was ineffective. Fortunately Billy had already anticipated Valiant’s ineptitude so he’d made arrangements for one of his best trackers to keep an eye on you. “Think she knows about you?”

Andy snorted. “This ain’t my first gig.”

Even though Billy knew Andy was great at what he did - he was one of Anvil’s best - it still didn’t assuage his anxieties about you. “Where is she right now?”

“Driving out of town. I’m on her tail.”

“Headed for?”

“Not sure yet. Connecticut, I think.”

Billy exhaled an agitated sigh. “Okay, let me know if there’s trouble.”

“Will do.”

After hanging up with Andy, he called your number. As expected, it went to your voicemail automatically. Just like it had every time this past week. Obviously you’d blocked him, which irritated the fuck out of him, but he realized it was something you needed to do for yourself. And if you didn’t have some unhinged lunatic after you, Billy would have given you the space you needed - but now was not the time to respect your goddamn boundaries.

“Hey, it’s me. I get it. You’re pissed but we need to talk. Call me.” He paused, breathing. A part of him wanted to add a ‘please’ but he didn’t like the thought of pleading with another person, even you. Because if he begged and you still didn’t call back… he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Reluctantly, he put your file down and returned to reviewing the contracts in front of him.

***

It was almost two in the morning. He’d gone out for dinner with some potential clients and schmoozed the hell out of them. After a lot of booze and ass-kissing, they finally shook on the deal. All in all, it was a pretty great night except he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Every time his phone rang he hoped it was you; it never was. And now he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of you like some lovesick fool. It was pathetic. He should have gone home with the waitress that had slipped him her number. She’d been hot, fun, and more than happy to fuck him but some stupid part of him felt guilty – actually guilty even though you’d been ignoring him for a week – of sleeping with someone who wasn’t you. What the hell was wrong with him?

Yeah, sure, he’s been in some relationships before but they never lasted long. When things were bad, they were terribly, horribly bad and the good times just weren’t worth it. And so, in the past few years, he’d decided to keep things casual with everyone until you fucking came along and dropped a bomb and now he was right back in the middle of a hurricane. Fuck you. Fuck You. Fuck you for making him feel like this. For making him feel desperate and clingy and pathetic. For making him worry about you. For making him care.

He grabbed his phone and called you. There was your fucking voicemail greeting again and the dreaded beep.

“I make you feel worthless?” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “What the fuck did I do to make you feel that way? Tell me. Because you actually haven’t given me any reasons. You just spouted some bullshit about having feelings for me before you walked away. Now you’ve blocked my number and I’m sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong.” He scooted off the bed and began pacing the floor. “Eleven fucking months we’ve been sleeping together and you tell me nothing about yourself. Nothing. You were a glorified sex doll. A fucking fleshlight who spoke and only told me things I wanted to hear. Yes, Billy. No, Billy. Fuck me, Billy. You kept everything bottled up! Not once did we have a real conversation. And then all of a sudden you come alive and I find out there’s more to you and I want to get to know you better but then you tell me you have feelings for me, that you might actually love me and instead of giving me a chance to process any of this shit you dump my ass and block me? Fuck you, Y/N!”

He hung up the phone, feeling much better, but within seconds that feeling of euphoric release turned to anxiety. What if you misinterpreted what he meant? What if something he said inadvertently hurt you again? This time when he called you, his voice was calmer.

“This isn’t me, Y/N. I’m not the guy who calls a woman over and over again, especially when she wants nothing to do with me. But you’re in my head. You’re everywhere I look. I don’t want to think about you, I don’t want to give a fuck about you, but I do…” He took a deep breath. “You said you might love me but I think you’re full of shit. Because when you care about someone, you don’t leave them behind. Shutting someone out, abandoning them, that’s not love. That’s being a fucking coward.”

After putting his phone back on the nightstand table, he lay back in bed with his arm propped up behind his head. He pondered the message he left, realizing the truth. As hard as he’d fought it, as much as he didn’t want to, he had fallen for you. You. Not the woman he’d been fucking for eleven months who didn’t have any personality but the real you, the woman who challenged him, who made him laugh, who was brilliant and incredibly smart and so fucking beautiful he’d get a hard-on practically every time he looked at you. There was so much about you he didn’t know, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life discovering you, fucking you, making you his.

He didn’t believe in destiny or any of that romantic nonsense. The universe had fucked him over too many times for him to accept sentimental bullshit like that. But what he did believe in was himself. Everything he had he fought for and he destroyed anyone who got in his way. Something told him you were the same as him. You two were connected.

He reached for his phone again and dialed your number. His voice was strong, calm, and resolute as he left you a final message.

“I like you. I want you. I’m not walking away.”

He hung up, smirking.

Part 9

A/N - I’m back from lovely St Maarten, all tanned and relaxed :) I hope you guys had a wonderful week, and that you enjoyed this new chapter. I know it wasn’t plot-heavy, just thought-heavy but that was on purpose. I really wanted a chapter just for Billy to process his feelings about “You”. Hope the lack of plot wasn’t a disappointment. As always, thank you for the lovely feedback on the last chapter. I’m sorry I didn’t respond in a timely manner while I was away! Please know that I truly appreciate the likes, the reblogs, the wonderful feedback and the asks you guys left me.

If you want me to add/remove you from the tag list, please let me know.

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729 @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting--heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #a woman scorned

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hawks-supremacy · 3 years

Text

Rubik's Cube of Emotions

Summary: You, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi used to be great friends but then one day it stopped. You and Tsuki are forced to confront each other when your new friend Yachi convinces you to be the new co-managers of the Karasuno volleyball team. (angst, fluff)

warnings: eating disorder, swearing, bullying?

genre: angst to fluff

word count: 2.2k

a/n: day 1 of attempting to write everyday until my birthday. Fun fact: I don't even like Tsukishima that much but my cousin hates him so I wrote it out of spite? Idk I don't like him but I see the appeal.

You were sitting in the library after school trying to do some research when your friend Yachi approached the table you were at. “Hey Y/n I need a favor.” She said sliding into the chair next to you. You closed your books and sighed, “Who is it this time?” You asked, looking at her. She looked at you shocked and started sputtering, “Yachi ninety percent of the favors you need from me are because someone was mean to you and you can’t confront them yourself. I mean last week Rei took your favorite pen and refused to give it back so you had to come get me.”

“Fine, it’s not that anyone was mean but this super pretty girl came up to me and asked me if I wanted to be the new volleyball manager because she graduates next year.” You held your hand up effectively pausing Yachi’s rambling, “Let me pause you right there and let me guess. You panicked, both because a pretty girl was talking to you and because she was your upperclassman and said yes.”

Yachi nodded, “Yes but that’s not all of it.” She said sheepishly, you raised your eyebrows and motioned for her to continue. “I also asked if you could be like a co-manager and she said that that was okay. I know you probably don’t want to but I cannot do this alone. Please come with me, the first practice I’m supposed to attend starts soon.” You rolled your eyes and started packing all of your stuff before starting to walk out of the library. You turned and saw Yachi looking like a kicked puppy, “Yach are you coming or not, you are the one who dragged me into this you big ball of anxiety.” She smiled and grabbed her bag running to catch up to you.

You were near the gym when you saw Kiyoko Shimizu. You assumed she was the pretty 3rd year that Yachi was intimidated by and walked up to her, “Hey Kiyoko? I’m Y/n, the person Yachi volunteered to be the co-manager I guess?” Kiyoko turned after hearing her name and saw you walking up to her with Yachi hiding behind you, “Yes, follow me. I’ll introduce you to the team.” You both followed her into the gym, you walking beside her and Yachi cowering behind you, gripping the sleeve of your jacket.

As Kiyoko opened the doors three boys approached one spouting compliments at her the other asking who you and Yachi were. “Guys these are your potential new managers.” Yachi took a step out from behind you before yelling, “Uhm, my name is Yachi!” You waved at everyone who was gathering around briefly telling them your name. As people were greeting you, you glanced around the gym, stopping at two people, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. You looked at them for a few seconds before moving on to the third year wearing a bun.

He bent down slightly, asking Yachi if she was a first year. You tried no to laugh as she screamed and politely and panicky told him that she was a first year addressing him as if he was more than a third year and then freaking out when the two second years were staring at her. “Forgive her, she's not good with new people, she’s hardly good with people she knows. She’s still scared of me sometimes.” As you finished your sentence Yachi mumbled that she was scared of you because you’re scary.

The third year with the bun turned to Hinata telling him, “This is great now you have managers for next year.” Before Hinata could really say anything Kiyoko stepped in saying nothing was set in stone and that you too just wanted to meet the team. As Yachi said it was nice to meet the team everyone bowed and said “Hello” at the same time, effectively freaking Yachi out. As Kiyoko was telling them to back up and not crowd you both you didn’t notice as Yachi slipped outside, “Sorry for bothering you.” She said and closed the door. “Again sorry, she’ll get used to you I promise. I’ll let you get back to practice.” Everyone said goodbye and dispersed to go do their own thing until practice officially started. As you turned to leave you heard the annoying voice that seemed to follow you everywhere, “Are you really that obsessed with me that you would join the volleyball team somehow. If you really had that big of a crush on me you could just say so.” Turning you saw Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the latter looking at you apologetically. You rolled your eyes, “Yes Tsuki I'm oh so obsessed with you that you consume every waking thought I have. Get over yourself.”

Walking out of the gym you saw Yachi crawling on the ground. You were about to ask her what she was doing when someone interrupted you, “You alright?” He asked. She turned around looking at him for a few seconds before yelling, “Please don’t kill me!” and sprinting away. “Kill you?” He asked mostly to himself. “Sorry about her.” You said to him, you seemed to be apologizing for her a lot today. He jumped, turning around to see you, “Jesus kid you scared the shit out of me don’t do that, nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“We’re the possible new managers for the team. She takes a while to warm up to new people. Also you shouldn’t be worried about a heart attack at your age. Lung failure seems more like it.” You pat him on the shoulder as you went to go find Yachi to sternly talk to her about Tsukishima and Yamaguchi being on the team. Yamaguchi you don’t mind as much, it’s Tsukishima that's the thorn in your ass. It’s not that you hated him, you just well, hated him. He sat behind you in your classes and constantly picked on you. Needed to always tell you that he scored higher on the test or his paper was better than yours. He was just annoying.

You found Yachi by her locker gathering the rest of her things, “Hey Yachi! I need to talk to you.” You said as you jogged up to her, “I don’t think I can do this man, Tsuki is on the team and he is not going to leave me alone if i do this with you.” She put on her jacket and picked up her bag and you two began to walk out of the school to go home, “Please, I can’t do this alone. You said you wanted to spend more time with me anyway. What happened between you two? Weren’t you really good friends with him and Yamaguchi before this year?”

You shrugged looking down at your feet, “He got a stick up his ass I don’t know what you want me to say.” You looked over and her and saw her giving you a disapproving look and you sighed, “Yeah we used to be great friends, best friends even. Then this summer he just started being cold to me. I honestly don’t know what happened and I don’t know if I want to know.” She nodded and was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up, “I get it, I do. But I really need you to do this with me. I might die if you don’t.” You sighed dramatically, throwing your head back, “Fine but you owe me. I may have only known you since the beginning of this year but even I know that you probably would’ve survived.”

It had been a while since you agreed to help Yachi with being the volleyball team manager and so far it had been hell. You ignored Tsukishima when you could but one of his perks and your downfalls of being childhood friends was he knew what buttons to press. Now here you were at some training camp in Tokyo and ignoring him could only do so much. It was the last day and so far you’ve had to deal with him treating you like you had to do everything he said, him loudly and obviously talking about you to Yams, and snide comments about the way you looked or something you did.

The last straw was when you sat down to eat and he made a comment about your weight. You and Yachi were sitting down to eat when Tsukishima walked over with Yamaguchi, “Gee Y/n do you really need all that food?” You didn’t say anything as you looked down at your plate. You didn’t think you got a lot, you got as much as Yachi. You weren’t necessarily insecure but your weight was always something your family commented on, eventually it made you cut back on eating, some days not eating at all in hopes of maybe trying to lose some weight to appease your family. Lately it hasn’t been so bad, Yachi has been helping with it, you were eating more regularly and getting back to normal. But now you feel like you’re back to square one. “Not gonna say anything? That’s a first.”

You set your plate down on the step you were sitting on and told Yachi that you really weren’t that hungry before walking away. As you walked into the gym you were all eating outside of you heard Yachi talking to Tsuki and Yams, nearly yelling. It’s honestly the first time you’ve heard her raise her voice for the first time that wasn’t out of nervousness or anxiety.

You were tossing a stray volleyball in the air when you heard the door open and close. “Yachi I told you I’m not hungry honestly.” You said focusing on the ball not looking at her. “I’m not Yachi and you should eat something.” You sighed as you heard the one voice you probably didn’t want to hear right now, “Do I need to stop eating or do I need to eat? Make up your mind Tsuki.” You caught the ball and turned to face him. He was holding your plate of food and scratching the back of his neck avoiding eye contact, “I uh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, “Is The Tsukishima apologizing? I didn’t know you knew how. You’ve been an ass since this summer and now that you know you hit a soft spot you change? Not happening. Besides, it's not something I go around advertising.” You sat down on the bench and he followed suit setting the plate in between you both. You sat there for a few minutes not saying anything before he cleared his throat, “I really am sorry. You look fine. I’m sorry about being an ass to you this whole time, please eat.”

Narrowing your eyes you looked between him and the food, “If you’re so sorry then why? Huh? Why are you being an ass? I mean one minute we’re all friends and the next you’re rude and dismissive.” He sighed, rubbing his face muttering that it was stupid. “Tsuki it’s not stupid to me, I lost two of my closest friends seemingly overnight with no reason at all. I’ll eat if you tell me what the hell changed.”

He thought for a second leaning on his knees before speaking, “Yamaguchi and I were hanging out one night this summer and you came up in the conversation. After a while Yams made me realize that I maybe like you. I didn’t know how to deal with that so I pushed you away instead and I may have pushed it too far. I’m sorry for everything I just didn’t know how to tell you so I probably handled it in the worst way.”

You paused for a second thinking about what he said before laughing and picking up the plate to start eating. “You aren’t gonna say anything just laugh? See this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” He said standing up. You finished chewing your bite, “Sit down, god you’re so dramatic. I laughed because this all happened because you’re emotionally constipated. Yanno if you told me this once you figured out your rubik's cube of emotions we probably could’ve been dating this whole time.” You didn’t say anything else and finished eating what was on your plate as he sat down with his mouth open gaping at you. “Wait so you like me too?”

You covered your mouth as you tried not to laugh at him, “For someone who constantly pointed out how they were smarter than me for the majority of this school year, you’re pretty fuckin dumb aren’t you.” He pushed you over and told you to shut up. “Oh come on Tsuki, is that anyway to talk to your girlfriend?” You watched as his ears began to turn red and he repeated the word girlfriend in a questioning form. “Unless of course you don’t want me too, then this was all for nothing and we can walk out of the gym like none of this happened.”

“Fine I guess, you’re uh, my girlfriend.” He said, coughing and looking away. You raised your eyebrows and laughed, “God Tsuki don’t sound like I held you at gunpoint. You’re such a tsundere. I guess I’ll deal with it though.” You said as you sighed deeply. He looked offended and pushed you off the bench as you both laughed at each other taking turns making stupid insults about the other person.

Outside the gym Yams and Yachi were all but pressing their ears against the door listening to your conversation, “They definitely confessed.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagine #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima angst #haikyuu angst #tsukishima scenarios

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joshjacksons · 3 years

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Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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morkleemelon · 3 years

Text

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

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rinusagitora · 2 years

Text

The foundation of a relationship.

Fandom: Over the Garden Wall

Characters: Wirt, Sara

Pairings: Sara x Wirt

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Canon compliant & post-canon. WARNINGS- discussion of trauma; Wirt didn't leave The Unknown without scars. So he keeps secrets from his girlfriend Sara, as if it can keep him together.

A/N: Commissions are open! For @yummi-gummi-zines‘s Beyond the Garden Wall fanzine. Found here: https://gummizines.itch.io/beyond-the-garden

Sara once asked Wirt, "Do you wanna marry?" He, being the Casanova he was, proceeded to choke on soda. "Not like… now. Or to me. But settling down in the future with someone."

Wirt didn't remember what he said but he remembered feeling like he would end up dumped if Sara didn't like his answer. He remembered his throat swelling thanks to his anxiety while he wracked his brain for an answer and tried to figure out if it was a test. Whatever he said, though, Sara ended up liking it. So much so that they moved into a university apartment together after graduating high school.

The U, as it was fondly referred to by the locals, had a great performing arts program, so Sara became even prettier and more popular while Wirt started smoking and got medicated and saw a shitty psychology major on Thursdays at the campus clinic.

Suffice it to say Wirt had no idea why Sara stuck around when she could've been dating way cuter, more functional guys. But he never told Sara about it. Too scared he would end up jinxing their relationship if he voiced his worries.

Wirt kept a lot of things from Sara, much to the chagrin of his counselor, like how much he smoked (a pack a day), what his grades were (Bs and Cs), or why he didn't talk to anyone in his family except Greg (because his stepdad was a prick and he never forgave their mom for remarrying). The Unknown, and his coma by relation, was a topic he gave an especially wide berth. Three years had passed since Greg and Wirt were there and Wirt still couldn't process it. He would sooner wander its haunted acres before trying to explain that shitshow to Sara.

The quack Wirt was seeing managed to coax it out of him. Wirt left out the part where he and Greg remembered it with remarkable vividness, of course, and his psychologist was more than happy to give a shot at translating it. Wirt stopped listening around that time. As inclined as he was to seeing art in melancholy and trauma, he drew the line at his therapist's asinine interpretation of The Unknown.

Nonetheless, his counselor ended up convincing Wirt to tell Sara about The Unknown. Leaving their office, he said, "She's outside. I'll tell her now."

He climbed into the driver's seat and fiddled with a lighter. Sara turned down the radio. "How'd it go?"

"Therapy isn't easy."

She hummed. When they first started dating, he didn’t get her humming and she didn’t get his nonanswers. But like most couples, they eventually created a dialect unique to their relationship. Her intonation was easily interpreted, and she got her yeses and nos reading between the lines.

Wirt fumbled with a shitty Bic lighter. It took about as long for it to light a cigarette as it did for him to formulate an opening that didn't sound insane or dumb. "I need to tell you something."

Sara turned three shades lighter. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"What? No. Nonono." Wirt combed his fingers through his hair. That almost gave him a heart attack. "But this will sound insane, so I need you to put a ton of stock into my sanity."

She frowned. Her voice was shaking and his hands were shaking because of it. "Okay. What's up?"

"Remember when Greg and I almost drowned?"

"Yeah."

"We…" Wirt debated telling her that he and Greg shared their time in The Unknown and then decided it was too much too soon. "I saw something while I was drowning."

"What did you see?"

He tapped his fingers on the wheel. "A lot. And every minute was more bizarre than the last."

"Wirt, I don't understand…."

"I just. I wandered through a potter's field where the dead never rested. I fought ghosts. All the while, I was chased by a beast trying to take my soul to… to more or less feed off of." Wirt ashed his cigarette out of the window. "And I remember, vividly, wandering through the forest trying to find my way home, and knowing, just knowing I'd be stuck there forever."

Sara stared dumbly. He swore. He wasn't making sense. "I know it's nonsense, but I'm trying, Sara."

"I know you are. Let's just… let's slow down. Take it from the top, y’know?”

He sighed. “Right. From the top.” He ashed his cigarette out the open window again. “When Greg and I almost drowned, I lived through something. Days, if not weeks, of wandering through a forest the inhabitants called The Unknown, avoiding a monster who fed off souls.”

“I… I know,” he stopped and took a long puff from his cigarette, trying to stop his hands from shaking, “I’m mostly certain at least, that it wasn’t real, but I still dream of being made into sustenance for The Beast, and my dreams feel so real, they make my blood feel like ice.” Wirt rocked in place. His eyes were watering so much he didn’t dare blink. "Like… even if it wasn't real, the terror I felt was real.” Wirt tore at his hair before he flung a hand up. He could smell his cigarette burning a hole in the car’s ceiling and cursed. “Am I even making sense?"

Sara pulled one of her feet onto the seat and wiggled her toes. “It makes sense, Wirt.” She smiled. “I believe you.”

He sighed. “Really?”

“Did you beat it? The Beast, I mean.”

"Kind of." Wirt never really talked about that part. Not even with Greg. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure Greg would understand what happened there. He coped better in fairy tales than Wirt did. “I didn’t bother killing it if that’s what you mean.”

"Why not?"

"It seemed pathetic. I mean, it was dangerous," Wirt said, almost forgetting that The Unknown was supposed to be a dream, "a manipulative hallucination, I think. But I outwitted it. I caught it in a lie, and its bluff didn't work, so I walked away." He had done everything that needed to be done, looking back on it.

It was the Woodsman who deserved justice most anyway. Wirt decided to save that for another day, though.

Sara held his free hand. "I'm sorry, Wirt. You had to have been so scared. But I'm so glad you're here now. Just… I just want to know why it took so long for you to tell me about this."

Wirt scratched his head. He wasn't sure how to answer her question without sounding paranoid. "I guess I was scared you'd think I'm crazy and leave me."

She laughed. “We do stupid things when we’re scared, huh?”

“Crap.” Wirt’s cigarette almost completely burned away and the embers burnt his hand. He flicked the butt onto the asphalt and shook out his stinging fingers as if pushing blood flow into them would stop the stinging.

He sighed. Beautiful, brilliant, kind Sara, brave enough to face his insanity unflinchingly. Sara, who never let him sink into his dark, abyssal feelings without a lifeline. Sara, the first thing he saw waking from The Unknown. How he adored her. As she squeezed his hand, smiling at him, he felt lighter with fewer secrets, like rocks slipping off his chest.

“I love you, babe,” he murmured, running his thumbs over her smooth knuckles.

She smiled at him and the tension seemed to dissolve like styrofoam over an open flame. “I love you too, baby.”

#over the garden wall #wirt over the garden wall #sara over the garden wall #sara x wirt

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

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

Word Count: 2.3k

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

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’ Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ .

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red.

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers.

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe.

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s.

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves.

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own.

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh.

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky.

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply.

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion.

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response.

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink.

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes.

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’.

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water.

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation.

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next.

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say).

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart.

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face.

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap.

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away.

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips.

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest.

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’ by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes.

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind.

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that.

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call.

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come.

‘Tsumu?’

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses.

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again.

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes.

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye.

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka.

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate.

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home.

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’.

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a dad made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that shit - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated.

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’.

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death.

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see hope reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too.

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands.

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup.

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family.

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed.

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuucreations #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #inarizaki

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superworldunkown · 3 years

Text

“Daddy, did you die?”

AN: While I wait patiently for all of the ‘Bakugou wakes up from a hospital bed and rushes to Deku’s side’ fanfics to be populated and/or reposed from when we all thought this was a headcanon, plz enjoy my Domestic Daddy Bakugou x Daughter Kiara spin on the matter.

Summary: Being a hero is hard. Being a hero and a dad...why wasn’t this taught at U.A? Bakugou x Kiara

(Lol sometimes I pretend he waking up in the below image and the first thing he see is me and I’m like “Shush BB, your melanin queen is here.”)

Ouch.

Bakugou had awoken in hospitals with no recollection of how he got there before, but this one carried an extra special ouch with it. Villains were getting stronger and stronger it seemed, and now with the widespread availability of quirk enhancing and suppressing drugs on the market, it made the old ‘Win To Save, Save to Win’ mantra quite the challenge. Also, anything with Deku made things 100 times more complicated.

It was supposed to be a simple rescue mission - they all seem to start out that way, but as always, something catastrophic had to happen and Deku just HAD to jump in and put his life on the line for everyone. And, of course, as his partner, Bakugou just HAD to blast on in after him. Who else was going to keep the damn nerd with the most incredibly powerful and incredibly secret quirk alive?

Speaking of, where was that damn nerd anyways?

Taking a rather large breath, Bakugou pulled the oxygen mask away from his mouth and pushed his sore body into a resting position. The machines he was connected to hummed in their disapproval, rattling his already irritated brain. But it was no matter to Bakugou, he had things to do, and no machine designated to keep him alive as going to stop him, damnit.

He could see beneath his hospital gown his torso and chest covered in white medical tape - that’s right! The hit to the shoulder he took in battle. Great, another scar to add to his growing collection. His mind was already thinking of how he was going to explain this scar to you when you explicitly expressed that he didn’t come home with another one. You too knew that missions with Deku always tended to go heroic vs under the radar.

As Bakguou began to move his legs towards the side of the bed his eyes caught a white piece of paper that was folded at the end of the bed slip to his side. The words ‘Read Me Kacchan’ written in an oh so familiar handwriting.

‘Hey Kacchan,

As you requested, as of 7:37am this morning, I am alive and checking in on the rest of the rescue team. Incase you are curious, I have all my vitals on the back of this paper. Please stay in bed and rest. - Deku’

Bakugou let out a huff while he refolded the note and stuck it in his pant pocket. Since his graduation from U.A he had gained rather irritating nicknames among his former classmates turned hero partners.

“Damn, working with Bakugou can be such a pain sometimes. Sheesh, you can’t even get a papercut under his watch.” Sero would groan.

“Hey, he’s just being a manly captain that’s all.” Kirishima would chime in, “Always looking out for us! And besides, he was a lot worse at U.A.”

“Yeah,” Mina rolled her eyes, “From Lone Wolf to Mother Hen, quite the upgrade.”

Bastards. All of them.

After a rather nasty battle Bakguou would be the first to roam around the hospital, busting doors down to check in on the status of the team, only to rip them a new one for being reckless and careless. There was an unspoken rule on when teaming up with this hero, don’t even think about dying on his watch. If you do, he’ll murder you. And it goes without saying that no one has broken that rule in his 5 years of professional hero work. Excuse him for keeping everyone fucking safe!

Pushing the rather annoying memories into the back of his brain, he toyed with the idea of getting up for his usual rounds of ‘Who the hell got hurt?!’ duty. However, the moment he let out a slight exhale of relief his ears were filled with a rather disturbing sound. It was faint, perhaps a few rooms down and barely auditable, but there was no way he could not hear it.

Why was there a child crying? And why did it sound like Kiara?

Instantly, his body jerked into action. Was she hurt? Why was she here? Where were you? Don’t tell him that you were in that mess from earlier with the villains. Even worse, did you go into labor already and he wasn’t there?!

Damnit.

Damnit!

The machines let out a dangerous whine as Bakugou began to pull everything off of him to get to the door. His legs gave out the moment he took two steps. Why the hell was he so weak?! Crawling wasn’t beneath him, if it got him closer to his daughter, so be it. Sweat began to form at the tip of his brow, running down his neck and soaking through is bandages.

“No it’s okay i’ll go check on-Kacchan?!” Deku paused as he opened the door to Bakugou’s hospital room, only to rush to his side, “Didn’t you get my note?!”

Bakugou was shaking at this point, grabbing at Deku’s shoulder only to use him as a weight to further push himself closer to the door. He could still hear his daughters cries, “Shut up...you damn nerd. If you’re not going to help-”

Deku tried his best to reason with him, “You need to stop moving, you were hit with some kind of quirk suppression drug, its like poison and you’re only agitating it.”

“Where is she?” Bakugou managed to get out before his head collapsed on to the cool tile of the hospital floor, “Where’s my kid?”

He could still hear the mixture of his daughters cries and Deku’s anguish as his vision went completely dark.

***

Ouch. Double Fucking Ouch.

Waking up for a second time in the hospital hurts even worse than the first. Bakugou found himself back in his bed, reconnected to the machines, twice as sore and twice as pissed off. Forget the rules, when he sees Deku again he’s going to -

“Daddy?”

Bakugou jerked his head to the side to meet a pair of tiny, puffy red eyes. Kiara sat on her mother’s lap, her lip quivering and arms shaking.

Luckily for Bakugou his hospital bed was reclined slightly upright, giving him the perfect positioning to catch his daughter as she leaped into his arms.

“Kiara be careful baby!” You called.

Kiara ignored your chastising and buried herself into her father’s chest, tears flowing freely. Bakugou ignored the pain, wrapping his arms around her to pull her even closer. The relief of her safety was worth all the pain. His arms gripped around her a bit tighter as if Kiara would slip away from him again. Kiara never cried like this before, even during her worst temper tantrums (which she 100% inherited from Bakugou’s side of the family), she never acted like this.

Bakugou turned his head towards you, his cheek brushing against the top of Kiara’s head as he looked for some clarification to Kiara’s behavior.

“She’s scared Katsuki.” You answered simply. Seeing your husband’s confusion you elaborated further, “You were unconscious for a whole day before you woke up the first time. We tried visiting you but when she saw you lying there she started crying, and really hasn’t stopped since.”

“But I’m fine.”

“I know that.” You reassured him, “But, this is the first time she’s seeing you get a little beat up and that’s scary. She’s not a baby anymore Katsuki, she’s understanding how dangerous hero work can be.”

It dawned on him; the same, gut twisted feeling that brewed in his stomach anytime Deku or a member of his team got hurt was now being manifested in his 3 year old daughter. His eyes moved down to his daughters head, watching her continue to cry into his chest. Damn, he was hopping she inherited his quirk and not his dangerously high levels of panic and anxiety. He then moved his gaze over the the bump in your stomach. Was this going to happen to them too? What the hell should he do!

He felt the gentle nudge on his bruised shoulder, you mouth silently forming the command to say something to soothe small girl crying in his arms.

“Oi,” he tried to make his usually ear piercing, gravely voice as smooth as possible.

Kiara poked her head up, her ruby eyes staring deeply into her fathers, “Daddy, did you die?”

“Huh? Hell no. You think some lame ass villain can kill me?! You think I’m weak?”

You ran your hand across your already tired face, you wouldn’t expect a Bakugou style father/daughter talk to go any different, but seriously?

Kiara shook her head violently, small tears flying from her eyelashes. Katsuki was beaming, despite the pain, “That’s right kid. Being a hero means we have to do scary things sometimes. I know today was scary but I never lose, got that? I’m a Bakugou, and so are you. We always win and we always kick ass.” His large callous hands drew to his daughters face, wiping away any remaining tears.

“And it’s okay to be scared sweetie.” You chimed in while leaning closer to your daughter, “But Daddy and everyone we love is okay today. And we can be happy about that, right?”

Kiara nodded, sniffling “Mr. Deku is okay too?”

“Pfft,” Katsuki huffed while shifting Kiara off his lap to lay by his side, “The damn nerd is just peachy.”

“Daddy, why do...why do you call Mr. Deku a, a damn-?”

“That’s a fun name Daddy calls Mr. Deku that only Daddy can say and that’s all you need to know about that.” You chimed in quickly, careful not to let Bakguou destroy your precious daughters mind any further. Kiara shrugged her shoulders and curled at her fathers side; the three of them a happy, but rather dysfunctional family.

#bakugou katsuki #domestic bakugou #bakugou x Kiara #bnha #mha #my hero academia #bakugou x black reader #bakugou #bakugo

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percabethfeelsfandom · 3 years

Text

Writing Prompt: Home

Percy stood by the bulletin board in the Big House, fingers tracing the edge of a photo of him, Annabeth and Grover. His sixteen-year-old face smiling widely at him with his arms thrown around Annabeth and Grover’s shoulders.

Seven years later, Percy still remembered taking the photo. The day before he was set to go back to Goode, his first time going to the same school two years in a row. The happiness that was in their features hadn’t lasted long. But it was nice that this moment was immortalised.

“Feeling nostalgic?”

Percy found a smile rising to his face as he saw Chiron duck his head to avoid hitting the doorframe, joining Percy to look at the other photos of campers that had accumulated over the years. Faces that Percy had grown up with, and new ones.

“Can’t help it. Every time I come here...it’s like travelling back in time.”

Percy removed his hand from the photo and let it drop to his side. Chiron gave him a small smile and looked fondly at the collage of photos. In the corner there was even a faded photograph of Chiron smiling smugly while Mr D held a goblet disapprovingly.

“Does it feel different coming back?” Chiron asked. Percy stepped away from the photos and went to stand in front of the window glancing out to look at the fields outside.

“Yeah. In a good way, but…” Percy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it, “I feel bad I guess. That I left. This was home for so long.” His fingers itched to move so he brought them to the necklace that still hung around his neck. All the years later he still tried to wear it every day, even sometimes underneath his work clothes. The beads had a permanent place around his place and sat perfectly in the hollow of his throat, a constant familiar presence.

“You didn’t leave, Percy,” he reassured. Percy thumbed his first camp bead, staring at the glowing trident.

“Didn’t I?”

“No. You deserve a life outside of here. It’s because of you that you have a world to go to, you deserve a chance to live in it. It’d be foolish of you not to.”

“You make it sound like I did it alone,” he gestured to the photo collage, “Each of those people played a part. Every person that steps foot into camp played a part in that. They deserve to be out there too.”

“When they know what they’re up against then they can. Until then I will train them.”

“Don’t you ever wish we could do more?”

“Every day.”

“I feel like I ran away from the fight.”

“Every hero yields in the end. And yielding is not always a bad thing.”

“So why does it feel like it?”

“Why are you so full of doubt? You seemed so sure, so happy with your decision before.” Percy thought back to when he had finally managed to graduate high school, and made the final decision to go to college and move away from New York. The sharp pain that had settled in his chest when he had watched Camp grow smaller and smaller the further they went. The pain hadn’t eased till Annabeth had gripped his hand, reassuring him that they’d be back. That this wasn’t forever.

Percy sighed deeply and reached into his pocket to press his fingers against Riptide for comfort.

“Things have changed. And I guess- I’m scared,” Percy let out a choked laugh. Things had definitely changed if he was able to admit he was scared.

“Is everything okay?”

“Annabeth’s pregnant.”

Chiron’s eyes widened before his face broke out into a smile.

“Congratulations!” He reached down and patted Percy on the shoulder. But Percy didn’t mirror his smile. Slowly Chiron retracted his hand and gave him a questioning look.

“Are you not happy?”

Percy rushed to correct him, shaking his head wildly.

“Oh gods, I’m ecstatic, don’t get me wrong. But...Annabeth and I always said we wouldn’t have kids unless we were positive we’d be bringing them into a safe world...and now that we are- I don’t know if it’ll ever be safe. Like we’re demigods for Hades’ sake.”

“Is that why you came back?” Percy nodded.

“I don’t know anywhere safer than here. It’s like I never want to let her out of my sight.” Almost to prove his point Percy looked out to the fields again, trying to get a glimpse of Annabeth who was at her cabin, catching up with family members and any of the campers they had once trained with. Though he knew exactly where she was, Percy could feel the edge of anxiety heightening his senses, hyper-aware of any possible dangers.

“And I guess, I wanted advice. I know you don’t have kids of your own, but, you have this camp. When I wasn’t with my Mom and Dad, I had you. I already asked my Mom how she did it; how she lived with the fear of having a child in our world.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she loved me too much to ever feel scared.”

“That’s all a parent can do Percy.”

“That’s not very helpful,” he huffed. Chiron laughed and gestured to the doorway, leading the two of them out of the Big House and to the centre of camp where the cabins were.

“You asked me if I wished we could do more, to help them,” he nodded in the direction of campers in their orange shirts, playing volleyball, their laughter drifting in the wind. “Each day, for the years I have been alive, I give them my knowledge about protecting themselves, I teach them our history so that they may one day learn from our mistakes. I love them and watch them grow. Sometimes they leave and sometimes they use the knowledge I’ve passed on and they create a life of their own, and save the world along the way. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes what I’ve taught them isn’t enough...and they don’t. It’s an endless cycle when you think of it, this role I chose. But what more can I do when I have dedicated my life to this. The world still needs heroes, and as long as those heroes need guidance I will give it to them. What more can I do when I’ve given them a chance?”

“You were raised by a brilliant woman, Perseus, she gave you the best chance she could by loving you. The best you can do for your own child is the exact same. And with Annabeth by your side, I have no doubt you’ll achieve that.”

“Did you have a good talk with Chiron?” Annabeth asked as she pulled the blanket over her legs. Percy helped her adjust the sheets, tucking her in and sitting next to her. They’d been given the Poseidon cabin to stay at for the meantime; Percy’s two half-siblings on a quest together.

Though they visited every summer, being back in his old cabin, even in his old bed, was giving Percy an odd sense of deja vu.

Percy nodded, but his attention was elsewhere, noting all the new scratches and the weapons hung on the wall that didn’t belong to him. His heart went out to his siblings, the call for a quest, taunting him after so many years of him wishing it would be someone else when he was younger.

“Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth said softly. Percy turned to her fully and shook his head, trying to clear it with thoughts. Annabeth’s face was etched with concern, and Percy placed his hands over hers, which laid over her stomach that was starting to show.

“I’m okay.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Coming back after all this time,” she said looking around the cabin as well. Percy nodded again, readjusting himself in the bed so he could hold her closer.

“We visit every summer though,” he pointed out, but Annabeth shook her head and then leaned against his shoulder.

“It’s different, we’ll be here for a while, we don’t need to leave at the end. We don’t need to always look behind our shoulders, at least not for now. It’s nice.”

“Chiron said something today...I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Hmm?” Idly, Percy traced circles on her shoulder as he brought his arms around her.

“Something about giving heroes a chance, that’s what it all comes down to. Doesn’t it? No matter how good you are, powers, training, knowledge, all of that goes out the door, because it’s up to the Fates isn’t it?” Annabeth sat up straighter turning to him.

“I like to think we play a part in it as well, just because the Fates have a say, doesn’t mean all choices are taken away from us. We chose to leave camp. And I don’t regret that.” She said firmly.

“How’d you know I was thinking about that?”

“Because I know you, Perseus Jackson.”

“No matter what the Fates have in store for us, Percy, I’m willing to go through it. If it means I’m by your side. I know we didn’t want to come back to Camp, but is it so bad when it ensures our safety? This was our home growing up. It’ll be a great place for our child to grow up, then we can leave when it’s safe again.”

“We left because we thought we’d be safe. Now I’m wondering if we should’ve stayed so that we could’ve avoided coming back...does that make sense?”

“Perce.”

“Yeah yeah. I know. I’m not upset about being here exactly. But after everything, I just thought we’d done enough for the Fates to believe we could get a break from this world. Let us live in ignorance for a bit. It’s selfish but maybe we deserve to be a bit selfish?”

“I know.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Percy’s, closing her eyes.

She pulled back and pressed a kiss to his cheek before laying down, signalling that she was finished with this conversation. The pregnancy was constantly leaving her tired, and even now, Percy could see the purple beneath her eyes despite the excessive amount of hours she was sleeping. Carrying a demigod child was taking a toll on her, and it was slowly killing Percy. He made sure he tucked her in tightly before leaving his cabin and making the familiar trek to the water where his thoughts finally began to calm.

He looked out into the deep blue of the night, and the seemingly bottomless ocean.

“I know you’re listening, Father...I don’t think I want to talk. But if you could listen? I think I just need that,” Percy paused, waiting for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he eased himself onto the sand and rolled up his pants so that he could dip his feet into the low tide.

“After the war, it was so hard for me to leave camp. Especially after Gaea took me. I felt that every time I left I’d come back and see my home in ruins. Everything I’ve done since I found out I was your child has been to preserve this Camp. It means more to me than a location probably should, but it was always there for me to come back to. But after Jason, I needed to leave. I was so tired of coming back to a camp and seeing one less face. I know it wasn’t my fault, but it felt like I was being taunted, that I couldn’t save him...because I was somewhere else. Leaving after college was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And now coming back, I’m scared that once I leave something bad is going to happen again. It’s not just Annabeth on the line anymore, I could risk it with her because she can protect herself but if our child is at risk? What do I do then?” The words were rushing out of Percy like a dam breaking, and he was stumbling and gasping over his words as tears welled up inside his chest, demanding to be released.

“Coming back means leaving. And I don’t think my heart can take it.”

There was a soft breeze and Percy felt the water at his feet grow colder. He looked up from where he had buried his face in his arms.

“You cannot let fear rule your life. Or you will forget to live.”

Percy scoffed at his Father and shook his head, not bothering to stand up. Other gods would have been offended, but Poseidon looked down sympathetically at Percy and sat down, lowering himself to Percy’s level.

“Let me rephrase that. Fear will always be a part of your life, it will always be there because you are my son and Annabeth is Athena’s daughter, you are Heroes of Olympus, and with that title, someone or something will always be hateful-”

“Is this meant to make me feel better?” Poseidon let out a chuckle and Percy rolled his eyes.

“Let me finish. Fear will always exist. But there are things that are more powerful than that. Think of your mother, her fear of Gabe, and her fear of monsters finding you when you were young...neither ever stopped her loving you, it made her fight harder to protect you. Your own fear of your prophecy didn’t stop you from fulfilling it, because you cared too much for your city and your friends. My own fear of my brother when you were accused of stealing the bolt didn’t stop me from claiming you. The same applies here. Your fear of coming back and leaving Camp Half Blood doesn’t make it any less your home. It will always protect you.”

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