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ameliawarnerr · 2 years

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Evanescent

(She was the evanescent of his life— there and gone.)

Part 10

(Part 9: here)

MC’s POV

I close my eyes and let myself relax in the hot water. Though my mind is anything right now but relaxed. Since Jake walked out of that door, I'm incapable of forming coherent thoughts. It's like my mind is shut down and all I can hear is my heart bearing in a distance.

It’s so uncomfortably quiet. I have no idea what Dan might be thinking of this entire situation. I did not get a chance to talk to him. Alex is somehow calm but that's unhelpful. Alex is a token of reality and Jake is like an illusionary world full of love and happiness with a greater magnetic force than that of earth. Still, I find myself getting compelled to choose the reality.

The uncertainty of my decision sends me to the very edge. Taking decisions— it has never been my favourable position. The fear of regret never lets me decide. Because of that, I have let people decide for me. If anything regretful happens I’d simply put the blame on them. But right now, there is no one taking decision for me. If I choose the wrong path— I will be the one to regret. The previous face off with regret almost put me in denial.

After I read Rose’s message about my mother's death, I cried myself to sleep. The next morning I woke up— I was in denial. I forgot it ever happened and missed the funeral. The next day, I came across Rose’s text again and I broke again as if it was the first time realising my mother is dead.

The warmth of the water calms me down a bit. I severely lack the motivation to get out of the bathroom. If anything, I’ll sleep right in this water. Because I am so undeniably tired.

Everyone might be expecting me to make a life changing decision right now but here I am drowning in my incompetence.

Now when I am trying to make it right, I'm breaking someone else.

Sometimes, I wonder if Jake and I share that kind of love that would make it hard to live without eachother. But when I look into those emarald eyes of his, all these doubts evaporates.

I somehow manage to dry myself and put on a knee-length robe. The room doesn't match the brightness of the bathroom. The curtains are drawn and lights are off. Maybe I left it that way or maybe I didn't.

Without knocking into something, I make it safely to the side table to have my phone. As I switch it on, light blinds me. With the little light, I manage to notice a figure lying on the bed.

My heart makes its presence known by beating faster and louder. No movement or no noise comes from Jake. Maybe he is already asleep. I stand there staring at him. Overwhelming tears build up in eyes and I cannot see clearly anymore. Well, neither can my consciousness when I dare lie beside him.

I lie motionless as an inanimate object. Five minutes of going through the pros and cons, I turn around towards him. My hand hovers over his body as another debate starts between my heart and mind. My eyes opened widely as I try to look at his face. Even his asleep face looks tired. He really need this sleep.

I slowly take my hand back. I don't want to disturb him with my sudden urge to have him in my arms. I’m about close my eyes when Jake’s hand wraps around my waist. As I try to process that, Jake pulls me towards him still in sleep. His face dangerously close to mine. If he- or I, move a bit, his lips would be on my cheek.

My side of bed is left vacant. At this point, I let myself fall prey to my urges. I wrap my hand around his waist. Even in sleep, he gets the messages and pulls me even closer. His leg pushed slighting between mine. I shuffle a little, my head now against his chest and I try hard to be still and let him sleep.

I fail terribly. Everything we did ever since saw eachother comes to me in flashes. And I can't help but to sniff a little. I curse slightly, trying to pull myself away before I start waking him up. But I guess I already did that.

As I try to get out of his grip, he only tightens his hold. His hand from my waist travels up to my head and I am sure he is awake now.

Guilt starts taking over me. “I’m sorry to wake—”

“Stay.” He whispers.

I forget how to breath. Maybe if I had forgotten how to perform fundamental functions of life before, like breathing, the people around mine would have to go through this much.

“Jake, that's—”

He suddenly pulls back and I can see his face. His eyes are insane. They make me go insane. His gaze pulls every ounce of sleepiness out of me.

“Selfish? Reckless? Not the right thing to do? I don't care. The only person I care about is you and if you are getting away from me then I don't mind doing reckless things.” His chest rises and falls.

“You are putting me in a difficult spot here.” Excuses. Excuses. Excuses.

“Then what am I supposed to do? Let you go? You think, this isn't a difficult position itself?”

My breath hitches. The closeness of his body doesn't help either but I'm incapable of pulling away. “I don’t know what to do, Jake. I’m scared. I have no idea if I should keep avoiding it or face it. I want to run away. Again. But I don't think that's a healthy way to deal with problems. I’ve tried running away, I’ve tried avoiding it and, and,” Pushing words out of my pith is becoming a difficult task. “I can't do this anymore. I mean, how long,” I don't finish it. “I though someone would understand. I though you would—”

He pulls me into a hug again and hides his face in the crook of my neck, his hand still on my hair– caressing it. “I understand. I'm sorry. Just know that I will never despise you for what you are doing. We never made any promises anyway, did we?” His tone lighten. “I'm glad we didn't.”

I am not sure how to take it so I let it be. I solely focus on his embrace around me. In his arms, the time stops. I feel like I have eternity to deal with my problems and right now I can just be here, with him. The world and everything in it feels far far away. Euphoric— that's how I feel.

I catch a little, “You’ll be okay.” And drift further into my safe space.

When my eyes open again, my Euphoria

My Euphoria

It's gone.

In his place lies a letter.

It is just a piece of paper, it's not a letter, I tell myself. Without caring about my appearance right now, I leave the bed. I search the bathroom— no one, empty. With a rush of anxiousness, I hurriedly search the whole first floor.

Breakfast.

He might be having breakfast. I descend the stairs in a clumsy way, skipping one or two. The table is empty.

My heart flashes the worst case scenarios. “Dan!” I shout.

Dan appears from his room. “What's wrong?” His voice is low and his hair messed up. He was still sleeping. My head snap towards the clock— it's still early.

“Jake. Where's he?”

“Huh? I just woke up.”

No, no, no—

I run, run like a hydra headed monster is chasing me. My steps get slower as I reach my our temporary room. They get even slower as I approach the bed and the piece of paper the letter on it.

I take it in my hand and turn it over.

To Amelia

Forgot how to breath. Forgot to stand— I'm on the floor.

I open it.

Dear dangerously beautiful Amelia,

Firstly, I am sorry.

Secondly, I love you.

So much that I am sure I would not be able to bear the sight of you leaving.

Do you remember when you held a grudge (for five minutes) because I used to read your texts? Well, you can hold a grudge forever against me for leaving earlier.

Maybe it was mistake. Maybe Us was a mistake. But it was the most alluring mistake I ever commited. And far from being something I regret. I will never ever regret anything we did. I hope you feel the same.

Thirdly, thank you.

For finding Hannah with me.

For trusting me.

For making me experience things I never thought I would.

For loving me.

For making me such an important person in your life that leaving became a difficult decision to make.

For making me a reason to stay.

For being my reason to stay.

But sometimes some relations overpower others.

Sometimes, people are so exquisite that they are only worthy of being in unforgettable memories.

Don't forget me, okay?

;)

— Jake

She was the evanescent of his life— there and gone.

He was the evanescent of her life— there and gone.

—The End—

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

FIRSTLY, I AM SORRY!

Secondly, the Epilogue will be there! (YOU CAN ALSO TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO SEE ANYTHING PARTICULAR IN THE EPILOGUE)

Thirdly, ...........I'm sad......how about a sequel?

The insecurity level before posting this chapter gotta be the HIGHEST I have ever reached!

So lemme know if I messed up...

Anyway!!!

Is this the end???? Damn!

I made it!

Because of you!!

Lemme know you fav part of the whole fic!

Thank youu

Love y’all

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marengogo · 2 years

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7 Nation Army - Part 1: Welcome On Board of The Idyll, I’m Your Captain; Kim Seokjin

The Astronaut - by Jin [The Astronaut - Single]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

I started tearing up the instant I wrote the title of this post and then tears started pouring the second I wrote “The Astronaut …”. I swear, I’m trying so hard to make this post coherent, but I can’t stop crying so please, forgive me if it makes less sense than it usually does. I really was hoping that I’d feel calm today, because I knew, I could already tell, that writing about Jin was going to trigger me. But, I’m now realising that trying to hold off from crying yesterday just meant that I was going to be a mess right now. Fuck me honestly; this is going to be very raw and probably very long, so be warned.

“7 Nation ARMY” was (still is) supposed to be a series talking about the members' individual journeys in chapter 2. I chose a watercraft for each member and it took me forever to figure out which one to associate to Jin, as I couldn’t quite tell the direction he was taking in his chapter 2, in the end I chose a narrowboat (in case you don’t know —> this is a NARROWBOAT). Narrowboats always give me this feeling of calm. As they travel slowly, I’ve always felt that those who have one are people who take their time to enjoy life. They may not be the most beautiful type of ships out there, in fact they look a bit awkward at first, but their insides are usually always spectacular.

However, now I know why it took me forever to understand what ship was mostly suited to our dear Jin, it was never a watercraft after all, it was a spaceship all along (which in hindsight he has left to probably go and get the narrowboat I was talking about, so I guess he can have both?! …). Kim Seokjin had always been the grandiose captain of a majestic spaceship. Yet, we only have maybe only 1 month left to follow the journey of the Idyll and I don’t know what to do with myself. NGL, I feel like Makoto in the Girl Who Leapt Through Time at the very end.

I believe I’ve explained this before but Namjoon was the first member I “clinged” on when I decided to give BTS a chance, because of his love for study, languages etc. Eventually, as I started to fall more and more into becoming ARMY, and before becoming OT7, I had a very long pit-stop in the world of Kim Seokjin.

I spent months trying to find reactors who would appreciate Jin. Trying to find people who realised how smart he is, how conceding he is, how serious he is. As for me at first it was the realisation that he was the funniest member of the group. Not the member who laughed the most (Hobi), not the member who tried to make the members laugh the most (Jimin), simply the funniest member of the group.

Usually, genuinely funny people try to make anyone in their radius laugh, not just the members, friends, or people they care about. If anyone around them is able to smile because of something they’ve said or done, then they would feel accomplished. To delve even deeper, let's look at comedians, because to make someone laugh as a profession is far much harder than making someone cry. Usually, as a comedian you use personal absurd events, sadness and tragedies to try and reach others, so that they can either feel better about themselves or just not have to think of themselves for a minute or two.

I’ve learned to become a life comedian because of my experience in life, my dad was my inspiration number one. Everywhere he went people would always laugh, always be happy, he’d take very shit stories of his life and turn them into the funniest jokes you’ve ever heard and as a child I always thought “when I grow up, I want to marry someone that is as funny and smart as dad” not smart and funny, but funny and smart. Because you also have to be hella smart and clever to understand how to be funny and what lines you can cross in order to make a joke and hopefully not offend, resulting in the opposite of what you intended to achieve. But I digress as always.

All of this just to explain why the phrase There’s often pain in laughter is so true. But you know what is also true? When you are genuinely able to make people laugh around you, like anyone, not just people that know you, it makes you feel so freaking good, because you’ve connected and helped that person forget worries, even if for just a little bit, which is why being a successful comedian is a rewarding job in the sense that when done successfully it is an instant give & take. And as we may, or may not know, Jin wasn’t the happiest of people right from the bat.

Here is a nice compilation that shows the relation/balance between Jin, Joking & Being Happy:

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And here is just a more in depth video about somethings you may or may not know about Jin

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I will not lie, having people constantly compare him to other members with regards to dancing or rapping was so hard, SO FUCKING HARD, and every once in a while I'd get the dumbass mf who would challenge his singing and I’d lose it, like, BITCH HOW DARE YOU?!

LOL. Even writing about him brings me joy and laughter, until I stop and think of the present and start tearing up again. The present. Trying to make this present into a present is kinda hard and bitter at the very moment, but in his very jinful way he did leave us a little present: WOOTTEO!

I’m hoping that Woottweo, among the many things he was designed to do, will keep us up-to-date on how Jin is doing in the military; “yeah, right, how?” As I've said, I’m very raw writing this and I just keep throwing up all that I am thinking 😭😭😭. On another note, it would be so interesting for RJ to meet Wootteo. I think it would be rather interesting. Is not quite as similar as having different mothers but so much different isn’t it? RJ and Wootteo would be like step-siblings, but in the end it wouldn’t be about the fact that they share the same thing in common, it would be about what they do with what they share in common; right?

Now, I’m not so sure I should mention this, because I’ve been trying to keep a couple of things to myself, but I think in order to understand my next point you probably need to know that I love Coldplay. I was in high school when I first heard Trouble. I was so captivated by the production and not knowing the name of the band and just memorising the song I kept on going with my day. Now I can’t remember if Yellow or Trouble came first, but all I know is that I keep seeing Yellow’s video with Trouble’s lyrics in my head 😂.

With the passing of years, I’ve ended up loving, so much so that, even though my all time favourite band is Queen, if I ever get married, the song would be their “Til Kingdom Come”. But, all of this just to let you know that this, THIS is not only a full circle moment for me, but also a “I AM SO HAPPY YOU BOTH MET MOMENT” moment, because you are both so amazing (you should have seen me during the whole My Universe Era, and even when they covered Fix You to begin with!). I mean look at him:

Then, many many MANY years, I had to, once again, change country and for the first 6 months of me living alone in this new world, all I did was listen to Coldplay’s discography for 6 months in a row, non-stop, in order to feel peace and serenity. This was the year 2012 and BTS were still grinding in a gym, with cloudy mirrors in Gangnam, South Korea.

Eventually I adapted, I got back to studying Japanese, easily I have a big mouth making friends and being my usual goofy self. I started exploring new music and living my life in my new world, where ARASHI was once again my pillar. Untill one day, in 2019, a “chinese group” named BTS was going to perform in my new world, while ARASHI was going to go on indefinite hiatus. I was so bitter, so angry, and as I watched this 7 “chinese” men taking over my world, I looked up at the big screen where their huge Hyundai AD was playing and I thought: “Who the fuck do they think they are?” Fast forward February 2020, I finally got my answer: “They are your saviours, bitch”.

So here I am, a whole thanks to them survived pandemic and depression later, being able to smile and properly cry because of 7 men, but feeling a complete wreck because of 1.

“I love you, to infinity and beyond, my loud thinker, Kim Seokjin,

I respect you, in ways you can’t imagine, my handsome comedian, Kim Seokjin,

I’ll miss you, o so freaking much, my almost bias, Kim Seokjin

AND I’ll be waiting, Till Kingdom Comes, my one and only, Kim Seokjin”

You better come back to me all in one piece in 2024/2025, if not, all hell will break loose,

Marengo.

#BTS 7 Nation ARMY #Jin #Kim Seokjin #Idyll #Jin's Spaceship

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anddreadful · 1 year

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Some self-indulgent barely-coherent OC A/B/O AU thoughts from 1:30am last night, yes sorry I am nominally into this horny garbage, if you don’t know what A/B/O is don’t google it on a work computer:

Storm kings: I got attached to the idea of Theseus as an alpha who for some reason was incapable of going into rut (and lacked “normal” instinctual alpha aggression) long before we found out what his canon deal was, and the way that tracks with him being not a true alpha but an imperfect clone of one fuckin hits. (Theseus is perpetually SUPER relieved he doesn't turn meathead when he's angry or horny like some alphas tend to.) I always loved the idea of Theseus helping Marin (and eventually an extremely peeved Rekhein) through their breakthrough heats not sexually, but just by being a soothing presence— in my A/B/O lore I really like the idea that the scent/ close attention/ nonsexual physical touch of an alpha helps with a heat as much as sex with one. Rekhien would find cuddling with Theseus while miserably horny almost more mortifying than just fucking him, but Marin insists it isn’t weird, and none of them have boundaries with each other anymore anyway, and it DOES help, so whatever. The stormchasers give off huge polycule energy despite none of them sleeping together (canon).

Speaking of Rekhien, he’s an omega who disguises his scent and passes for Beta for most of the campaign, because male omegas sometimes get dunked on/ disrespected for it. It’s Marin who ferrets him out and eventually convinces him not to hide it anymore— and she’s correct that they’re powerful enough by that point for it not to matter. Marin is an omega who magically becomes an alpha when she becomes Voc Rocsha— designations work a little differently for the people of the purple rocks, given that they’re not bound by the same biological rules as most species; I sort of imagine that the current Voc Rocsha is the only alpha of her tribe at any point. (I don’t ascribe to reproductive organs/ designation correlation, FWIW/ this is a non-mpreg-focused set of worldbuilding choices, sorry. But we do have mating/ claiming bites because those are hot.)

She’s worried Kitro (alpha) won’t be as interested in her now that she’s not an omega, but he doesn’t care what she is and doesn’t understand why she thinks he would. Drow, it turns out, tend to be very designation-pairing agnostic compared to some surface cultures that lionize alpha/omega couplings.

And Phyn is a beta. The most beta beta to ever normie alongside his hormone-riddled friends.

COS: if your strahd is an omega, you are so correct and valid, but in our game, strahd is an extremely typical alpha, and as I would write a full AU, Barovia has what could be considered some regressive collective beliefs about designations. (Tatyana as an omega and her choosing beta Sergei over alpha Strahd would have made him sooooooooo mad, it's too juicy not to do.) I have always loved the idea of Ismark (omega! which is obviously one of the reasons people don’t respect him) pulling teddy aside in the manor like, ‘hey, just so you know, I know what we are isn’t a big deal where you come from, but here you need to be careful. It’s good that you’re traveling with two alphas so people won't mess with you.’

Hot take! One of those alphas is Nim. Nim has a strong presence and a huge streak of stoic self-sufficiency that screams alpha to me. more importantly, it makes her abandoning her human family that much more fucked up, and is another layer to the maternal abandonment baggage that Borakov takes SUPER personally, as he buys in hard to the alpha-as-protector cultural messaging (which is probably a Barovian thing much more than an elf thing, to be fair to Nim)

Rahadin is a beta, but has some very weird and yikes ideas about designation and social hierarchy— as far as he’s concerned, part of Strahd’s absolute right to rule is simply that he’s The Strongest Alpha. Rahadin isn’t sexuaally interested in omegas because they “need” alphas, which he’s very matter of fact about not being, and Betas are fine, but what he really gets off on is putting “undeserving” alphas in their place. Hence his initial thing for being mean in a horny way to Nim, world’s least trad alpha. And if he's developing bigger feelings, well, maybe Rahadin can have a little unresolved cognitive dissonance about nim's alpha qualities (better than initially assessed, possibly leadership material) vs how much he likes domming her, as a treat.

Teddy and Borakov are, regrettably, the most obvious m/f alpha/omega trad-gender-shit-on-steroids heterosexual nonsense pairing ever committed to fiction. Just extremely classic territorial scenting protective horny bullshit. Sorry to everyone in Barovia.

Teddy goes into heat halfway through the campaign, in vallaki (she’s about four months out from her last dose of military-grade suppressants and hasn’t had a heat since she presented as a teenager, so it’s not pretty). Ismark kicks Borakov out of the entire building when it becomes obvious what’s happening. Strahd can’t get to her for some contrived reason but is sending her dreams telling her to leave the inn where she’s holed up to come find her alpha— unfortunately for Strahd, as far as her addled little brain is concerned, Borakov is her alpha. She sneaks out and finds Bork at the burgomaster’s manor and moves the Bork/ teddy sexual timeline up significantly. Everyone else is baffled that heat!teddy managed to secretly engineer her way out of the upper floor window of the inn while barely able to stand upright, but getting laid is a powerful motivator. For convoluted emotional reasons, Borakov refuses to claiming-bite her ~for her own good, which teddy takes very personally and becomes one of the reasons she later agrees to marry strahd, who is clear that he DEFINITELY wants to bite her for MULTIPLE reasons (and does).

Denethor is a beta. The consorts are a random assortment of designations. Doru is an omega and Miranda is a beta. Ez is a beta, Ireena an alpha, Kasimir an alpha but In An Elf Way. Van richten is drenched in suppressants and scent blockers, so good luck figuring that one out. The soulless inhabitants of Barovia don’t have designations— not even beta. They have no scents at all, which is unnerving.

Inspired by a Six of Crows ABO fic with really great worldbuilding, I was at one point brainstorming world-specific terms for "alpha" and "omega"-- I had loosely settled on "Volk" and "Ovechka" which translate to wolf and lamb in "old barovian". who doesn't love a hunting/ consumption motif for relationships in vampireland!

World torn: safiya is an alpha. Bo is a beta. Faraday is an omega and on some very strong magical suppressants. I go back and forth on tailor but I think I’d go with beta (but attracts so many omegas to his orbit you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise). Chess is an omega and slutty about it but extremely proficient in designation-fuckery magic— ever wanted to try being an alpha? They have something for that behind the bar at Cerise.

Brin is an omega. Most of the jacks officers are alphas. Nera Thorn was a beta who wore the most ghastly fake alpha scent you can imagine. Designations can affect how you get treated in some planes— fae tend to favor omegas and are more prone to tricking alphas, for example.

Unearthed remnants: Sev is a robot, so he does not have a designation. Clay is a beta (though depending on how his deal shakes out, I might make him an alpha who's disguising himself as a beta to support his 'bland' persona. I am not entirely convinced 'clay' is even his real name in actual canon) Aster is an omega and thinks the whole thing is stupid. Eon is a beta and Trollack is an alpha.

the end, if you read all this, wow, I am really impressed and sorry

#ABO #I love tumblr I couldnt post this goofy shit anywhere else

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mellowyandere · 3 years

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You’re Ours to Protect

Had a weird dream last night. Thought you might enjoy it.

Reader: F

Characters: Toshinori Yagi (All Might), Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead), Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic)

Summary: Your time as an anti-hero might finally be coming to an end. With three pros on your tail it’s a miracle this didn't happen sooner. (Reader has a quirk but it’s not very important to the smut.)

Length: 4.5 K (I have come to the conclusion that I am incapable of writing below 4 K)

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, slight bondage/restraints, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, anal fingering, anal sex, M/M/F, mostly clothed male, naked reader, slight cum swallowing, Eraserhead and Present Mic are in an established relationship in this fic.

Hands were on your body, hands that shouldn’t be there. Your mind was stuck in a fog, your limbs so heavy you could barely move them. What was going on? You strained to remember, thinking long and hard about what might have led you here as calloused fingers blazed trails along your exposed thighs. You managed to wiggle your limbs a bit, shaking off the haze that muddled your brain.

You groaned, trying to open your eyes so you can get a better understanding of your surroundings. Your hands were restrained behind your back but it seemed your legs were free. You'd murder who ever had their fucking hands on you. As your eyes adjusted to the light you couldn't help but groan again as the figure in front of you came into view. You tried and failed to subtly use your quirk, this didn’t look good.

“Eraserhead. Didn’t realize you were still wasting your time looking for me. Not my fault I beat you to that criminal. Hero’s leaving trash like him alive is such a stupid concept. He was a murderer you know.”

You looked around to the best of your ability as you spoke, you were sitting on a plush dark green couch in what appeared to be a relatively empty basement. You had been stripped of your gear, leaving you in your underwear and an oversized t-shirt. Two men were flanking you on the couch. The one to your left you didn't recognize. He was ridiculously tall, as well as skinny. Blond hair a mess as two long bangs hid his eyes from view. To your right was a pro you did recognize. His emerald green eyes sparkled in delight behind his civilian glasses as he grinned down at you. So it was their hands on your body currently. They’d die first then.

“So, what does that make you?” the dark haired pro murmured, leaning forwards and somewhat regaining your attention.

You ignored his question, opting to look about some more. There wasn't a one-way mirror or any recording device in sight. Were they interrogating you off the books? This whole situation seemed off, these were heroes right? They’d convict you and leave you to rot in a dingy jail cell somewhere.. but this didn't look like a normal interrogation room.

“I know this is my first time getting caught and all but this doesn’t really seem up to protocol. Gonna haul me away after having fun or something?” You shifted your gaze to the obsidian eyes in front of you, leaning forwards to mimic his posture.

Present Mic barked out a laugh, hand squeezing harder on you thigh much to your annoyance. “Sorry babe but prison won’t be your final destination! I mean after all y’aint evil, just a lil misguided is all, nothin’ three pros can’t fix.” He ended his sentence with a pinch to your leg.

“If you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll kill you!” You snarled, turning and getting up in Present Mic’s face. The tall blond to your left pulled his hands back, scooting away as Present Mic continued to leer down at you.

“HAH little girls got some bite, but we already knew that. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to use that quirk. I’m hurt now! You really would try to kill me huh?” he mocked with a fake pout, but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

“I’m sure you’ve already realized by now you can’t use your quirk. It wasn’t easy making a device to cancel it out, but thanks to our newest colleague here the hardest part was collecting your DNA and picking what color collar we wanted.” Eraserhead leaned forward, fingers tugging on the collar you only now just realized was around your neck.

You tried to bite him, but he pulled back. If only you could wipe that stupid smirk off his face with a heart attack. Your quirk was the ability to clot blood after all. A handy trick if you found yourself injured, but even more so for killing once you learned how to properly control it. No one really batted an eye at an ischemic stroke due to the clotting of an artery to the brain. Well.. almost nobody..

“You have a very impressive ability,” the tall blond stated, “in all honesty we probably wouldn’t have caught on if we hadn’t watched you kill. You’ve induced countless of natural looking deaths, but upon closer inspection you target people whose crimes would have landed them in jail. Noble, but very misguided. You’re pretty reckless though, what if you had gotten hurt?”

“So fucking what if I did.” You kept your eyes glued to Present Mic as you responded, trusting him a lot less than the man behind you. His eyes narrowed dangerously at your snarky rebuttal.

“Language young lady, and that’s no way to talk! What would compel you to risk your life, why don’t you trust your hero’s more?”

You clenched your teeth in frustration but didn’t respond. You were done cooperating, not like you were doing much to begin with though.

The scrapping of a metal chair on concrete drew your gaze as Eraserhead stood up.

“Back up Zashi, I’ll take over from here. Toshinori you’re fine where you are.”

You couldn’t help but struggle a bit at his words. “What do you mean, what the hell are you going to do!? You insane or something? Just turn me in to the police!”

“You really don't pay attention do you. Hizashi already said you’re not going to the police. I don’t know what skeletons you have in your closet, or why you started killing people, but that will come out in due time. For now you don’t have to kill anymore. The three of us will take care of you, without the law sentencing you to life. We’ve been hunting you down for so long. We’ve been very patient, but right now you need us to help show you what you’ve been missing. Running around all by yourself, you must have been so lonely.” Eraserhead finished up his little spiel as he stalked forwards, looming over your sitting frame.

“Don’t fucking TOUC-gah!” You had been so focused on Eraserhead’s approach you hadn’t noticed Present Mic coming at you with a gag until it was too late.

“Yagi already asked you to watch that dirty mouth of yours, don’t worry though babe once you simmer down a bit we’ll take it out.”

“Ple-please Hizashi call me Toshinori we’ve been over this.”

You gave Eraserhead your best glare as he stopped in front of you. He smiled softly at your defiance before wedging his knee in between your legs and slamming his hands onto the couch, caging you in. Wait by show you what you were missing.. these hero's were going to..?

You tried to talk reason, but all that came out were muffled pleas. None of it coherent.

“We’ve been watching over you for 5 months now kitten. Trying to find the best way to approach you but in the end taking you somewhere safe seemed to be the only logical solution. While getting this house ready for your arrival we all started to feel as if you belonged here all along. I know it’s not fair, we’ve had so much longer to get to know you, but you’ll know us just as well soon enough.”

It was official. These pros had lost their damn minds. They actually figured out how to justify what they were about to do to you. Your promise to only kill criminals was really coming back to bite you on the ass.

You brought your legs up and tried to kick him off, but were quickly thwarted by two pairs of hands grabbing them and pinning you down.

“Now now sweetheart none of that, Shouta here is just going to show you our conviction. No one will ever hurt you again now that we are here. Now that I am here” The last part was mumbled more to himself than the group.

Something must have happened to these men to cause their hero complex to grow into something so twisted. But that was no fucking excuse for their actions. They needed therapy, not someone to play damsel in distress with.

Shouta lowered himself between your legs until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you. You tried to plead with your eyes, beg him to stop, but he met your gaze with something bordering love. That wasn’t good. Breaking eye contact he looked down at your underwear, bringing a hand up you held your breath as he gently brushed against your core.

“You can’t even begin to imagine how much I’ve dreamed of this moment. You truly are something special, and yet you treat your life with such little regard it’s maddening.” He trailed his knuckles against the thin fabric as he spoke, your traitorous body sparking heat in your lower abdomen in anticipation.

Pulling your underwear to the side he slowly began to slide his fingers up and down your progressively wetting folds.

“Well now, someone secretly enjoyin’ themselves baby,” Hizashi all but purred, his hand squeezing your flesh while his gaze was transfixed on where his partner was violating you. You couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whine. It was absolutely humiliating being spread out before these three men.

The noises your wet cunt were making were no help to your embarrassment, and they only got worse once the dark haired pro rid you of your last line of defense and began to insert two of his fingers.

“H-how does she feel?” Toshinori couldn’t help but ask. His face was flushed red, along with the tips of his ears as his vibrant blue eyes watched Shouta’s fingers slowly sink inside you.

“Tight, shit she’s tight. She’s perfect, so fucking wet for her hero's. I’ll work you open kitten don’t worry.” You couldn’t help but clamp down on his fingers at his words, earning a deep chuckle in response.

“See now, such a good girl aren’t you. Prison is no place for you kitten, though if you want we can always role-play your wardens.”

Role-play my ass we’re already living it, was all you could think bitterly.

As if he read your mind Shouta couldn’t help but continue to antagonize you, thumb beginning to make light circles against your clit as he pumped his fingers, adding a third and quickly burying them knuckle deep. Soft whimpers slipped from your mouth as you tried in vain to wiggle away from Eraserhead’s deft fingers.

Hizashi was getting impatient, removing one of his hands to grasp your breast through the t-shirt you had on. His slim fingers began to pinch and rub your nipple, though his eyes never left your cunt.

Toshinori was struggling in his own way. Raspy breaths with slight coughs as he grew more and more aroused. He too removed a hand from your leg, but instead made quick work of the zipper on his pants. Taking his semi hard cock in his hand he began gently stroke himself while watching your display.

You truly were everything they had ever wanted. But you didn’t want this, despite your bodies responses to their ministrations. You could feel it, Shouta seemed to know exactly where to stroke as he worked you up tighter and tighter, velvety walls clamping down at your approaching climax.

You found each man murmuring their own words of praise, anywhere from “That’s it baby girl, take all of Sho now,” to “Such a perfect princess, do you want to finish?” The man between your legs even adding to the mantra of soft words spoken to you. “So close kitten, see what good girls get. You’re going to cum for me okay?”

He posed it like a question but you knew it was far from it. It was a statement, a matter of fact statement that you couldn’t deny even if you had tried. Your back arched, moans and mewls intercepted but not completely blocked out by your gag as you rocked against his hand. He gladly continued to finger you, watching as you came down from your high and only then removed his hand.

You were panting hard, shame quickly washing away the pleasure from your orgasm. Sensing the shift in your demeanor Hizashi was quick to pounce, peppering your face in kisses despite your shifty protests and groans of despair. “None of that now babe, after all we’re just gettin’ this show started!”

Shouta stood and moved out from between your legs, licking some of your slick off his hand before he wiped the rest on his black pants leg. “You got lube Zashi?” Hizashi paused his attack and shot the dark haired pro a million dollar smile. “You bet our babes cute ass I got it! Lemme find it, hold her Toshi.”

Toshinori floundered a bit, cock in hand as Hizashi shoved you closer to him, before jumping up from the couch. Eyes trailing down to his hand you couldn’t help but freeze in shock. Not only was this man stupid tall, his dick was frighteningly large. The older hero noticed your stare and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at your expression. “Don’t worry princess, Shouta and Hizashi are going to help you today. My sides acting up so I’ll only be watching.”

As if on cue the man was hit by a coughing fit, and much to your surprise he even coughed up some blood. Eraserhead was still looming over you, leaning over he gently rubbed the older blonds back as he tried to ease him through the pain. You didn’t dare move as all this transpired around you. What good would it have done you anyways? You were effectively quirkiness, and your fighting skills would be severely lacking against the two heroes you knew. You had no idea who this Toshinori guy was, but if he was close to Eraserhead and Present Mic you doubted he was weak.

You heard Hizashi rummaging behind you through a dresser you hadn’t noticed earlier. Craning your neck, you peered over and cried out in frustration.

“Tada!” He sung triumphantly, a small bottle of lube in his hand. “Act two can now officially begin!” You could only yell and wiggle about in protest, your arms still tied behind your back. Toshinori’s hand on your thigh moved to gently pat you on the head.

“Behave now for them okay? If you’re good we can show you the rest of our home after this.”

You jerked your head out from under his hand and yelled more incoherent nonsense out of frustration. You had expected anger to replace the adoring look in his eyes but you were only met with fond amusement.

He stood up with a hearty laugh, erection still in hand as he grabbed Shouta’s discarded chair, sitting down facing the couch. Shouta was quick to take Toshinori’s place on the couch while Hizashi took up residence behind you.

“I have a feelin’ this star ain’t a fan of the spotlight, no need to be camera shy babe.” You watched Shouta roll his eyes at his partner in crime before he began to manhandle you. Hands under your armpits he pulled you up and wrangled you onto your knees facing him on the couch.

Hizashi slid one knee between your legs so you couldn't close them. Your tied hands couldn’t help but brush up against his clothed hard on, causing him to rut against you a bit in anticipation.

Without warning he took a solid grip of your t-shirt and ripped it off. You squeaked in surprise, your face heating up as you realized you were the only person fully naked in the room.

“Was it really necessary to rip my shirt?”

“Sorry about that Toshi! Didn’t want to delay the show with takin’ off her bindings yah dig? You rip them a bunch anyways so what’s another to the pile? But ain’t this just so much better, our baby girl on full display it makes my heart swoon!”

“Just get her ready Hizashi, and no rushing it, you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Aight aight sorry I’ll get to work, you keep her happy.”

Both men moved closer, pressing your body between them. They had propped themselves up on their knees and had you effectively stuck. Shouta gently placed one hand around your neck, giving your collar a tug, while the other trailed down and began to gently work your still wet pussy.

You stared into his chest, trying your best to space out but jerked back to reality when you heard the pop of a lid behind you.

“Don’t worry babe I’ll get you ready, I’m somewhat of a pro yah know?”

That was when you felt his lubed finger gently prodding your other hole. You jolted forwards into Shouta who didn’t even budge in response to your full body weight. Hizashi simply shuffled closer, continuing to push until finally he breached you. You whimpered at the uncomfortable intrusion.

Shouta's fingers lazily worked your cunt as he rocked his erection against your lower abdomen. Despite the fact that you hated the feeling of his growing arousal you couldn’t help but lean into him to try and get away from Hizashi as he slipped another finger inside. Tears slowly rolled down your face in frustration as the two heroes prepared your body.

“There we go kitten, you’re doing so well. Just be patient alright and it won’t hurt so bad.” Shouta removed his hand from around your neck and placed it on your head, angling your gaze to the third member of the group you had almost forgotten while pulling you flush to his clothed chest so you couldn’t freely change your field of view.

Toshinori was leaned back in the metal folding chair, which looked comically small with him sitting on it. His eyes were clouded with lust as he stroked his thick cock. His own pre-cum and spit adding obscene noises to his ministrations. He gave you a lopsided smile as you made eye contact, causing you to quirky avert your gaze.

By this point Hizashi had worked three fingers knuckle deep into your tight hole, but coupled with Shouta’s work the line between uncomfortable and pleasurable began to mix together. A breathless moan escaped you as the two pros finally got their desired reaction.

“She’s as good as she’s gonna get Sho, let’s say you and me start the finale I can’t take feelin’ her tight lil hole clamping down on my fingers any longer. Not when I got somethin’ much better for her.”

Your tears flowed a bit faster at your impending fate. This was fucking insane! You might have been a murderer, but you weren't expected to be a good person unlike these men. These heroes who were now violating you.

Since Shouta was in black sweatpants he merely leaned back a bit and pulled them down, cock springing free. He had a solid girth to him, red tip dripping pre down his shaft to his unruly black pubic hair. You heard a zipper behind you as the blond freed himself, though due to being squashed between the two you had no idea what to prepare for.

Hizashi hummed in contemplation at your tied hands, currently in the way of his objective. “Bonds might have to go Sho, you get her hands?” The sleepy hero merely nodded grasping your wrists as Hizashi swiftly untied them.

“Ready now primadonna?”

“Ha ha you’re soo funny Sho... but yes, shit, I’m fucking ready.”

You kept quiet this time, head pressed against Shouta’s chest as you listened to his rapidly beating heart. You gave one last pleading look to the lean blond watching intently from the sideline, but all he did was shrug his shoulders with a small smile on his face.

“You’re going to do great princess don’t worry.”

You felt the tips of each man at their respective entrance, Shouta's teasing your soaking cunt while Hizashi lightly probed your lubed ass. You closed your eyes and accepted defeat. They gently began to rut their hips, cocks sinking deeper with each thrust. You felt uncomfortably full as they breached you.

“Oh fuck oh fuck I can feel you through her.” The blond quickly grabbed your breasts, tweaking your nipples like he had earlier.

“Easy does it kitten, we got you,” Shouta groaned out.

You weren’t a fan of Hizashi behind you, rocking forward into Shouta as they continued to fuck into you. He squeezed down on your wrists in warning, hot breath fanning the top of your head. It didn’t take much longer before they both had finally bottomed out. You groaned in distress while they groaned in bliss.

“I’ve got her wrists you help her out alright, and take it easy.”

“Sheesh I heard yah the first time, I’ll help our lil girl out.”

Hizashi snaked a hand in between you and Shouta, finding your clit.

They both continued fucking into you, Hizashi matching Shouta’s pace as they stimulated your body. You were angry, humiliated, and yet somehow you were so turned on it was embarrassing. You should be thrashing about, snarling into your gag, but instead all you could do was rock your body to their salacious tempo.

Peeking your eyes open at a particularly hard thrust from Hizashi you saw Toshinori on the edge of the chair. You could just barely make out his raspy breaths and small moans over Shouta and Hizashi’s groaning. His brilliant blue eyes bore into your own. One of his hands worked his long shaft while the other was death gripping his clothed thigh. It almost looked as if steam was pouring off of him. Was he always that muscular?

You didn’t have long to contemplate Toshinori though, with a pinch to your clit Hizashi made sure to regain your attention. He had picked up his pace, throwing Shouta a bit off balance. He leaned down sucking and biting at your neck while rolling your perky nipple. Shouta felt your velvety walls clamp down around his cock, picking up his tempo to match Hizashi’s.

By now you were a mess. Traitorous moans fumbling from your mouth as the two heroes played your body. They had picked up an alternating tempo, never leaving you without a cock inside your body. The pleasure had you throwing your head back, leaving your neck exposed and making room for Shouta to join Hizashi in leaving little claiming bites all along your delicate skin.

“She’s getting close Hizashi, we’re gonna fuck her through it alright?”

The blond pro behind you only moaned out something that sounded vaguely affirmative, eager to feel your tight walls clamp down on him.

You were beyond fighting them, on the brink of orgasm all it took was one pointed thrust from Shouta to have you crumbling apart. You pushed back into Hizashi’s chest, his t-shirt sticking to your sweat soaked skin as you clamped down on both of them. Hizashi moaned into your neck, his quirk picking up a bit as he lost his composure. Shouta had released your hands, ripping off your gag so he could grab your face and crash his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as your newly freed hands grabbed fist fulls of his shirt to stabilize yourself.

As stated they continued fucking into you, dragging out your orgasm as your walls spasmed around them. Shouta’s tongue delved into your mouth, his own deep moans rumbling into you.

“Go-gonna fuckin’ cum Sho, n- not much longer.”

In response Eraserhead reached behind you, grabbing a fist full of the blonds hair and giving it a firm tug which was enough to push him over the edge.

“Sh-shit,” he wheezed, hips stilling as his cum filled your sore ass. “You fu- you fucking dirty cheater makin’ me finish first like that.” In kind Hizashi grabbed some of Shouta’s hair, pulling his mouth away from yours and up to his own.

“Go ahead and cum in her Sho you know you want to,” Hizashi taunted between kisses. The familiar sound of metal against concrete drew your gaze as the all too familiar symbol of peace stood at his full height. Holy fucking shit it was All Might.

The two pros ignored his approach, Shouta’s hips becoming a bit more deranged as he fucked into you. All Might reached in between the two and gripped your lower jaw, dazzling smile almost blinding you.

“Be a good girl now and open for me, you don’t have to swallow it all but I’d appreciate the effort.” He didn’t leave you with much of a choice finding it impossible to close your mouth with his grip, which at this point was very sore from the gag. The tip of his large member gently brushed against your lips as he shuttered at the feeling of your soft flesh.

By this point Shouta was thrusting aggressively against your battered cervix, mouth locked with Hizahi’s as he finally reached his own release. His hips stuttered as warmth filled your cunt.

Now all that was left was All Might. Your jaw strained to accommodate him, but he seemed to be more than aware of your limitations. He simply pushed the tip in, one hand stroking his shaft while the other gently pet your head.

“So pretty,” he cooed down at you. “Just like that princess, I’m gonna cum now okay?”

You simply kept your mouth open, tongue flat against the underside of his still cock as his cum filled your mouth. The bitter taste made you sputter, cum running down your chin as more took its place. After a couple more spurts he gently pulled away, some of the bitter substance sliding down your throat while the majority ended up down your chin and onto the couch below.

All four of you were panting, frozen in time until finally All Might disappeared in a large cloud of smoke. The man you had originally believed to be some unknown hero named Toshinori now stood in his place, shyly looking down at you.

“I guess that’s one way to show her huh big guy.” Hizashi jested.

“I-I know probably not the most ideal but I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured a bit embarrassed.

Hizashi and Shouta pulled out, their cum immediately running down your legs causing you to cringe a bit at the sensation.

“You guys.. fucking suck.” was all you could think of at the moment. You waited for the rage, for them to berate or attack you, but instead all that met you was a chorus of soft chuckles.

“Figured you wouldn’t be easy to convince kitten, but don’t worry. Between the three of us you’ll come around.”

These three men must have some thick fucking skulls to dismiss you so casually, that or their obsession was a lot deeper than you could even begin to comprehend.

“Some fucking heroes you are,” you grumbled lowly.

“Some fuckin’ heroes we are indeed cutie! HAH get it? Cause we just fucked yah?” Hizashi laughed at his own joke while Toshinori and Shouta groaned.

“Alright don’t make me gag you next, let’s just get everybody upstairs and clean up. We’ll do the house tour later kitten, for now we’ll just show you to your room.”

#tw: noncon #yandere toshinori yagi #yandere aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere all might #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #toshinori x reader

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

my patient’s neighbour [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: taking Wanda to meet your parents wasn't the best decision in hindsight...

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: i’m not sure what to say other than sorry in advance oops

The restaurant my parents chose wasn't too flashy but rather comforting and homely, with an Italian theme and matching cuisine. It was bustling with people, but it didn't take long for Wanda and I to find my parents sat at the back waiting for us.

"You gonna be okay?" I asked, glancing at her with a comforting squeeze of the hand.

"I've got you, haven't I?" she asked playfully, her accent thicker than usual as she spoke. And though she was joking, I knew there was truth to her words which sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy.

"You're cute," I said with adoration, appreciating how lovely her eyes looked in the dimly-lit restaurant. "Come on."

Hand in hand, we approached my parents' table and I had hopes that tonight would go well. My parents weren't exactly intimidating – at least anyone I'd ever known hadn't got that impression – but I still worried for Wanda. Unlike her, I couldn't read minds, so I couldn't tell if she was actually looking forward to tonight or if she was just doing it for me.

"Y/N, you're here!" my mum exclaimed with a grin when she spotted me.

"I am," I said with a nervous smile, before motioning to Wanda. "And so is Wanda, my girlfriend."

"Yes, Y/N mentioned you would be coming," my mum said with a friendly smile, looking to Wanda, before motioning to the table. "Please, sit, sit."

I squeezed Wanda's hand gently before pulling out a chair for her. She smiled at me appreciatively before I took a seat beside her, facing my parents.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Wanda," my dad said with a nod. "Y/N mentioned you plenty of times when we'd call to catch up with her."

"You, too," Wanda spoke politely. "Both of you. Y/N told me that you're travelling the world, is that right?"

I leaned on my hand and glanced at Wanda, who shot me a mischievous smile. Quirking a brow, I mentally applauded her. Getting my parents to talk about their travels was an easy way of bonding with them – they would tell every server and customer in this restaurant about their travelling if they could. She'd cracked them instantly.

I'm just that good, milashka (cutie).

Trying not to laugh as her words echoed in my mind because of her powers, I leaned back into my seat and listened in as my parents went into a ramble about their ongoing adventures. This was pretty much how the rest of the evening went, as the four of us dined on expensive wine and delicious pizza. They seemed to be getting along well, with Wanda asking all the right questions and giving them her picture-perfect smile that impressed all the elders. Heck, she was even impressing me.

Naively, I appreciated how well the evening was going until my parents decided to talk to Wanda about her career.

"So, Y/N mentioned you're one of those Revengers," my mum remembered as we ate.

"Avengers," I corrected her, mildly embarrassed.

Wanda chuckled, glancing at me, before nodding. "Yes, I am. For over a year now, I've been working with them."

"Them being Iron Man, Captain America, the Black Widow...?" my dad asked, looking up as if trying to remember the rest, further embarrassing me.

"Those are the ones," Wanda quipped with a nod.

My mum hummed in response as my dad nodded before leaning back in his seat and eyeing Wanda curiously.

"I can't imagine your job is the safest," he began. "You protect people from threats, right? Keep them safe."

Wanda seemed caught off guard, but recovered quickly. "It's got it's... dangers, yes. But I can handle myself. I've got powers and I know how to use them."

"You do," my dad agreed, before his eyes flickered to me briefly. "But Y/N doesn't. She's just a regular human."

I set my fork down on my plate and looked to him calmly. "Dad, what are you saying?"

"No, it's fine," Wanda said reassuringly, resting her hand on my leg under the table. I grabbed it and held it as she continued to speak to my father. "Y/N doesn't have powers, you are correct."

"And dating an Avenger, I can imagine, must put a huge target on her back," he said with concern, and my mum nodded in agreement. "How can we be certain that she is safe?"

"Dad!"

"Your father is right, Y/N," my mum said, giving me a look, before her expression softened as she looked to a startled Wanda. "We're not implying that you're incapable, Wanda. We can clearly see that you care about our daughter. And you're a lovely person. You're pretty much perfect."

Wanda swallowed hard. "But?"

My mother frowned. "But dating you is bound to put our Y/N in danger. She could get hurt just for being involved with you, with your friends. She doesn't have powers to protect herself. And I can't imagine you're around her all the time to keep her safe."

As angry as I was at my parents for saying this stuff – even if they were saying it out of love – memories of the incident flashed to mind. They were right, but it was a risk I'd accepted when dating Wanda. What good was it doing by bringing this up now?

Noticing Wanda's silence, I spoke up instead. "I appreciate your concern, guys, but I'm an adult. I understand the danger I may be put in by being with Wanda. But I love her and I know that she is here for me if anything were to ever happen."

"We know," my father said, giving me a small nod. "We just thought we'd share our opinion anyway. It's been weighing on us for a while is all."

I sighed quietly. I couldn't exactly fault them for that.

"Anyway, never mind that," my mum said, setting down her fork. "Now that we've got that out the way, let's order some dessert, yeah? Our treat."

Nodding, I let my parents get excited as they perused the dessert menus before them. Instead, I looked to the quiet brunette beside me and saw how lost in thought she was, eyes focused on the table and stuck in a daydream.

With the hand that was holding hers, I patted her hand with my thumb to earn her attention. She looked up suddenly, questioning gaze falling to me. I frowned and quirked a brow, wondering if she was okay. She forced a smile my way, squeezing my hand reassuringly, but I didn't believe her. I also couldn't question it right in front of my parents, so I decided to speak with her later.

Dessert went by quickly as Wanda, suddenly, wasn't very talkative. I didn't know if my parents noticed, but I sure did and I felt extremely guilty. If I had known of my parents' concerns, I never would have brought Wanda to meet them tonight.

After the evening came to a close and we all stepped out of the restaurant, I expected to be going home with my parents since we lived together, but they claimed they had more plans together tonight.

"Wow, you guys have more of a social life than we do," I joked when they told me to make my own way home.

Wanda barely smiled and I felt bad.

"We'll be back in a few hours," my mum promised, before pulling me in for a hug. "Tonight was fun. A great final night before we leave tomorrow."

I returned the hug and as I gave my dad one, I heard Wanda thanking my mum for the lovely evening halfheartedly. After saying our final goodbyes, Wanda led me to her car in silence, giving me time to try and put some jumbled thoughts together coherently.

As she had been for the past hour, Wanda was quiet on the drive back to my place. Whenever I would glance in her direction, she'd be chewing on her lip and focusing on driving, though the blank expression on her face made me think that maybe she was distracted. It didn't take a genius to know she was thinking about my parents' words and I suddenly felt guilty for putting that all on her.

"I'm sorry," I blurted halfway through the journey. "I'm sorry for what they said. It wasn't fair of them, I know that. They just... they meant well, Wanda, they really did." I tucked my hands under my thighs, wincing as their words echoed in my mind. "It doesn't change anything though, y'know? We're still us. We're still okay. I don't want you to feel like anything's changed because it hasn't."

I paused, swallowing hard, and glanced her way. She didn't even look my way, still in the same position as she was before I started to speak. Looking back to the road ahead, I let out a disappointed sigh, figuring she wasn't in a talking mood. I didn't blame her, but I hoped she would have understood what I meant.

The remainder of the drive was like this, Wanda deep in thought and me huddled under an imaginary blanket of guilt. When we finally reached my house, she turned the engine off and I waited for her to say something, literally anything. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel mindlessly and I figured she was out of words for tonight.

"I'll ring you in the morning," I mumbled quietly, opening the car door. "If you want to speak, that is."

Leaving her there, I grabbed my bag and headed to the front door, but stopped when I heard her get out the car, too. Waiting, I turned around and watched as she approached me, eyebrows knitted in thought.

"Please say something," I said with pleading eyes.

She licked her lips, biting her lower lip so hard I'm surprised she didn't draw blood. Finally, she released it and looked to me with apologetic eyes.

"Your parents were right," she said.

I blinked with confusion. "What?"

She nodded, looking down at her shoes momentarily. "They were right, what they said. My life puts you in danger."

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, crossing my arms. "I knew that when I got with you, but that doesn't change anything."

She gave a disbelieving smile. "Seriously? Y/N, that changes everything."

"No, it doesn't," I told her sternly, growing frustrated. "This is the stuff you sacrifice when you love someone."

She sighed, shaking her head and looking away. "You shouldn't have to."

"But I chose to," I said, clenching my jaw.

"Don't you remember what happened last time?" she asked, stepping forward and holding my hand. "The incident?"

"We said we wouldn't talk about that," I reminded her with a low voice.

"But you remember, right? When they took you and I wasn't there? They could've hurt you!"

"Shut up!" I told her, raising my voice. Pulling my hand away from hers and taking a step back, I continued, "Why are you saying that? You came! You helped me!"

"But what if they did something to you before I got there?" she snapped. "What if I hadn't got to you on time?"

The memories came spilling into my mind, escaping the locked box I kept them in. Tears burned the corner of my eyes as I tried to think about anything else.

"You remember how scared you were?" Wanda asked, frowning at me with exasperated eyes. "You couldn't be by yourself for weeks!"

"Why are you doing this?!" I yelled, clenching my fists. "Why are you trying to frighten me?!"

"Because you should be frightened!" she retorted, stepping closer to me. Her dark green eyes were swirling storms of rage as she added, "It could happen again!"

I shoved her away from me, pinching the bridge of my nose with annoyance. Tears slipped from my eyes at the terrifying memory of what happened, what could have gone wrong, but I ignored them as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Why the hell was she acting like this? Making me so angry at her for no reason?

"It's not even just that," she continued, jaw tensed. "How many times do I get hurt because of work and you get worried?"

"That's because I care about you," I muttered through stinging eyes.

"This will always be my life," she said, a hint of regret in her words as she looked to me. "I can't change it."

"I'm not asking you to!"

"Exactly! You're not! Which means you'll suck it up and stay with me and will live your life in constant concern for my well-being. It's not right."

I opened my mouth to respond because what she was saying was entirely stupid. But my emotions got the better of me and no words came out. Instead, my bottom lip quivered as I sucked up a breath.

"I need time to think," she suddenly said, anger disappearing from her voice and being replaced with an astute calmness.

My gaze snapped her way and through blurry vision, I watched her step back with her hands on her hips.

"So you can what – think about breaking up with me?" I said bitterly, and despite my anger, I didn't expect her to look at me with a softened expression, meaning my words were correct.

"Maybe it's better that way, Y/N," she said gently, eyes meeting mine.

I squeezed my hands together and tried to breathe through the pent-up anger that she'd caused, but the longer she stared at me, waiting for a response, the more I wanted to explode.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered, scrunching my eyebrows together.

She pressed her lips together, looking away, and it only pissed me off more.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Wanda?!" I yelled. "You're quitting on our relationship because, what, you think I'm in danger? Well, news flash, honey, the worst already happened and I'm still here!"

She barely flinched as she avoided my eyes.

"You're a fucking coward!" I said, pointing at her. "If you needed an excuse to end things, you could have just said so!"

Breathing out, I wiped my tears away shakily. I expected her to argue back, to realise she'd made a mistake and regretted her words, but as I waited, I knew she was certain of her decision.

"Fine," I settled, brimming with rage. "Fuck off, Wanda."

Still, nothing.

Turning on my heel, I stormed to my front door and went through my keys with difficulty, hands shaking with anger. I heard Wanda's car door shut from behind me but didn't bother turning around. I clearly didn't need to as I heard the tyres screech against the road and knew she was gone.

Kicking my door with frustration, I found the key and opened up before heading inside and slamming the door behind me. How dare she break up with me because of something that I chose off my own back! She just gave up like we meant nothing to her, not even bothering to talk things out with me! And selfishly, she left me feeling pissed and resenting her more than I ever thought I would.

"What a bitch!" I shouted into the empty house, throwing my keys to the side harshly.

When they clinked against glass, I looked up and saw the vase of flowers Wanda had given me before dinner.

"The first and fucking last," I said dryly, before grabbing ahold of it and throwing it against the wall without thinking.

The glass shattered on impact, leaving a mess of water, flowers and small shards on the wooden floor. I looked at it, the brokenness resembling how my heart felt. As the adrenaline of my actions and previous angry words wore off, all that was left was hurt and pain and oh God, Wanda was gone. She'd left me. She'd given up.

I sank to the floor, pulling my legs up to my chest, and hugged them tightly. Stifling my cries, I dug myself into my knees and felt a pain in my heart. Why didn't she fight for us? Did she not love me enough? Was I not enough?

—

"You ignored the memes I sent you, I thought you died."

As Natasha pushed right past me and into my house, I blinked with disbelief.

"Sure, come right in," I mumbled sarcastically, closing the front door.

Following after Natasha, I found her making herself at home in the living room, plonking herself on the couch and pulling her feet up comfortably.

"You could have sent an emoji or something," she continued, giving me a knowing look. "They were some good memes."

"Well, forgive me if I wasn't in the mood," I said sourly, joining her on the couch.

Her playful smile faded as she picked up on my words. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned my elbow on the back of the couch, getting comfortable. It had been two weeks since Wanda broke up with me and in those two weeks, I hadn't been doing particularly well. I guess you could say I was still in a slump. A horrible, tiresome, angry, sadness-filled slump.

"I'm fine."

She pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to argue, but thankfully, she didn't. I was glad – the last thing I wanted was to prove that I was okay when, really, all I wanted to do was curl in a ball and suffocate under my duvet.

"I'm sorry," she said, resting her hand on mine. "If it's any consolation, I think Wanda made a huge mistake."

"Ah, so she told you," I said with a nod of realisation. I hadn't told Natasha the specifics of why we broke up, but clearly Wanda did. I guess it made sense – they were teammates. If anything, I was surprised Natasha still wanted to speak to me, instead expecting her to side with her friend.

"She did," Natasha answered. "And I think she's an idiot, but that's not my business. I just came here to make sure you were okay."

"Really? I thought you wanted to show me the memes," I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood with a small smile.

She chuckled, slapping my hand gently. "That, too... but seriously."

My smile faded as I looked down, my finger playing with my trousers distractedly. "I'm not okay, but I'll get there." I began to glare at my trousers, my anger for the witch returning. "I have to be. Because she doesn't want me anymore... fuck her."

"I'd rather not," Natasha mumbled.

Though my anger was present, making me tense like it had been the last few weeks, I couldn't help but smile at Natasha's words. Then laughter bubbled from my lips and for the first time since Wanda left, I felt momentarily happy.

"I'm glad we can still be friends," Natasha said, making me look to her with a smile. "I know that you and Wanda are over now... but I still like hanging out with you."

"Me, too," I said in agreement. "Thanks for coming to check in. You didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did." She nodded before offering me a small, encouraging smile. "You're gonna be okay, y'know."

I wanted to believe her, but despite how pissed I was at Wanda, I still loved her. And I couldn't imagine stopping, though I knew I'd have to if I was to make it through this.

—

Getting over Wanda was a difficult process. Everything I felt was a mixture of resentment, exhaustion and misery because I missed her. I missed being able to call her when I saw somebody do something stupid in public; I missed kissing her when I hadn't seen her in a long time; I missed hearing her adorable accent first thing when I woke up after she spent the night; I missed her.

Two months followed the breakup and the only time I'd see her was when she'd dodge Anna's apartment upon knowing I was going to take care of her. I guess I was glad in that sense, as it meant I wouldn't have to deal with her awkwardly. But it also made me feel like shit because it meant she didn't care about me at all. Clearly our breakup wasn't affecting her like it did with me.

And it was definitely affecting me.

I was scrolling through Instagram one day when I saw a particular post on my feed from Natasha's account. Yeah, one of the Avengers had a private Instagram account. She gave me her username when she saw me on it one day and I remember being so confused to how she had it.

"I'm an Avenger, not a hermit," was her response, and from that day onwards, we followed each other.

So, I saw a post on her Instagram and it was some goofy photo of her, Tony, Bruce and Wanda. They were posing with exaggerated smiles as Natasha grinned up front; the caption said something about working long days, but I wasn't paying much attention as, naturally, my gaze fell to Wanda.

Just like everyone else, she had a playful, exaggerated smile on her lips like nothing kept her down, but what stood out was the sling around her arm and the cast underneath. It must have happened in a mission or something and it wasn't my business, but I couldn't help but worry. Was she okay? Was she looking after herself? I wanted to text Natasha and ask, but I stopped myself.

She'd broken up with me for this very reason. I wasn't agreeing with it, but for a second, I did see why she'd made her point. It still wasn't fair though. She didn't get to make that choice for me.

We weren't together anymore, I reminded myself. She broke up with me. It had been two months and I needed to let go. If she didn't care about me, why should I waste my time and energy caring about her?

Not letting it get to me anymore, I simply liked the post before continuing my scrolling. Though I knew that deep down, her face was imprinted in my mind and I still worried for her well-being.

—

The fourth month following our breakup was when I properly saw Wanda again, excluding the times she would duck out of Anna's apartment upon my arrival to care for her. It was also the first time since the breakup that Wanda made the effort to speak to me.

I was sat eating dinner on my day off when I got a call from the hospital nearby, interrupting my meal. The nurse was explaining how Anna had fallen over and hurt her back and was now in a hospital room. She was calling me because she thought I'd like to know since I was her registered nurse and carer. I was glad to get the call, immediately pulling my shoes and coat on and rushing over there to make sure she was okay. She didn't have anyone else apart from Wanda and I – it was no question I had to go.

Though, of course, I didn't really think about the fact that Wanda may be there until I saw her there. I also didn't consider the fact that I was wearing my pyjamas when I stepped in the lift and headed to Anna's floor. Too late now.

After asking the receptionist where Anna's room was, I found Wanda hanging around it outside the door. With only Anna on my mind, I approached her and tried to hide my panic. She spotted me instantly, stopping her pacing and looking to me with tired eyes and a frown on her face.

I didn't care that she looked worried, nor that she was holding up well since we last spoke in anger. I didn't care that she'd dyed her hair a reddish-brown colour, nor that she managed to pull off both that and the whole 'loungewear' look in a place surrounded by blinding white and blue. I didn't care that my heart ached when her green eyes found mine, nor that I missed seeing her so close and not in my dreams for once. I didn't care about any of it. Or, at least, I tried to tell myself that.

"What happened?" I cut straight to the point, stopping in front of her. "Is Anna okay?"

Wanda nodded instantly. "She's fine. She tripped over her dining room chair and hurt her back. The doctors just checked her out and said it's nothing too serious, but she won't be able to walk for a while."

I pressed my lips together, feeling the panic wear off at the sound of good news. Anna had always been more than just a patient to me and the last thing I wanted was to hear she'd hurt herself badly.

"Can I see her?" I asked Wanda, quirking a brow.

"Yeah, of course," Wanda said, before looking away awkwardly. "I was just waiting out here for you. The nurse said you were coming."

I chose to say nothing as I walked past her and into Anna's room, seeing the older woman laying on a hospital bed and staring at the ceiling. When she noticed my presence, she smiled at me and motioned for me to join her side.

"It's so good to see you, milaya (sweetie)," she said happily, as I stopped by her side, "but you didn't have to come! I'm not dying."

I heard Wanda enter the room behind me, but she took a seat on the chairs opposite the bed. Ignoring her, I smiled down at Anna and grabbed her hand.

"Don't say that," I told her gently. "Of course I'm here. You're my number one priority. I had to make sure you were okay!"

Anna waved her hand in typical Anna fashion. "I've suffered worse. I'm absolutely fine."

I knew it was best not to question her, so I didn't.

"I'm glad you're both here," she said, looking between Wanda and I, making me swallow awkwardly.

Since breaking up, I hadn't mentioned it to Anna, but she wasn't stupid and she'd clearly noticed that we weren't spending time together anymore. I didn't know if Wanda had told her, but if she had, Anna never mentioned anything. Like now, she simply looked between us both with a grateful smile, unaware of how awkward we felt.

Thankfully, the awkward silence was interrupted when a doctor walked in the room. After introducing herself, I asked if I could speak to her outside about Anna and she happily obliged. She told me about Anna's condition and how it would affect the way I cared for her, especially regarding her new medication, and I asked anything and everything to make sure she was truly okay. After being reassured that she was, I thanked the doctor and returned to Anna's room, only to find Wanda and Anna in a heated a argument.

I couldn't tell what had got them so fussy as they were bickering in Russian, sentences too fast for me to comprehend with my limited knowledge of the language. It got to a point where Anna began slapping Wanda on the arm, looking angrier than ever, so I stepped between them and pulled Wanda away.

"What the hell is going on here?" I interrupted, holding Anna's slapping hand down to the bed and raising a hand to keep Wanda at bay. I looked between them, seeing the frustration in both their expressions, and asked questioningly, "Well?"

Wanda said nothing, eyes avoiding mine as usual, so I looked down to Anna who was glancing between us before spouting off into another ramble in Russian, trying to grab Wanda so she could yell at her directly. To my annoyance, Wanda tried to push past me, yelling back, and I was unfortunately caught in the middle as I attempted to keep them from ripping each other's throats out.

Thankfully, their bickering came to a halt when an unknown voice called into the room: "What is going on in here?"

I looked to the door, following the mystery voice, and saw a young woman, maybe in her thirties, standing in the doorway and looking between the three of us with confusion. I had no idea who she was, though she seemed familiar. Judging from the confusion Wanda had, she didn't seem to know either.

"Sasha," Anna breathed out with surprise, and then I realised. That was Anna's granddaughter. "What are you doing here?"

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #elizabeth olsen #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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realcube · 3 years

Text

CRYBABY (1 / 2) | tsukishima k

♡ alt fluff ending (1 / 2) of jealous — alt angst ending ( 2 / 2 )

♡ tw crying, unspecified injury, reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of violence, swearing, rude nicknames & set in a hospital

“Kei, hello? I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now but Yamaguchi told me that you were here and..I just wanted you to know that I, uh, am really sorry and I hope you get well soon.”

tsukishima felt like shit. he woke up with a splitting headache, which was only worsened by the bright beam of the LEDs which hung right above his hospital bed. it took him a few moments to become fully conscious but when he heard the irritating beeping of the ECG, his first coherent thought was, ‘wow, i can’t believe a fist fight with the king still has me hospitalised. how embarrassing.’

little did he know, kageyama was in the infirmary room right next to his own, being treated for his broken ankle and nose.

tsukishima wasn’t spared another second to pity himself as his sore head snapped around to meet the gaze of whoever was lingering at the door, “hello?” he called out, squinting to try make out the looming figure before feeling around the side table for his glasses, “come in.”

That voice was unmistakable.

his blood ran cold, suddenly feeling extremely dizzy and sick. “(y/n).” he muttered under his breath in disbelief, as he was finally able to get a clutch on his glasses and push them up the bridge of his nose, easing his headache slightly.

“oh, thanks.” he croaked, his throat dry from both waking up and your presence. if he being completely honest, he hardly processed a word you said; as soon as he realised it was you talking, his mind was just flooded with emotions, feelings and memories alike. hardly any of them were bad — except for the more recent ones — yet he still felt an overwhelming wave of sadness which he had no choice but to hide.

“so are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?” he inquired, concealing his regret with sass, which was all to convincing since it was a usual practise for tsukishima by now. in fact, that’s exactly what had gotten him into this situation.

you inhaled sharply, shocked by the fact that he actually wanted you to stay as you’ve been under the impression that he hates you, which is understandable considering his recent actions. hesitantly, you emerged from behind the curtain that separated the bed he lay in from the door, your heart sinking upon seeing the state he lay in; out of the many years you had been friend with him, this is the worst you’ve ever seen him. pasty, chapped lips, bloodshot eyes, messy hair and extremely scrawny, yet you couldn’t help but admire him for pushing through none the less. in your eyes, he’s still beautiful — but he’d never believe you if you told him — and he thought the exact same about you.

“how, um, how are you?” you stuttered, shuffling awkwardly as you took a seat in the chair that was already placed beside the bed. the same chair that his brother had sat in yesterday and him mother the day before that.

“what do you think?” he scoffed, gesturing to his current state and injury that was highlighted by the thick, white cast.

your eyes widened, being hit once again by the harsh reality that he was no longer your friend. “i- i don’t even know why i asked.” you murmured, voice meek and shaky enough to catch the attention of tsukishima, who also forgot that he was supposed to dislike you.

his comment wasn’t intended to be rude but in context, he could completely understand why you thought that — however, that’s just the type of guy he is. looking at your disheartened expression, he felt his own fall to resemble it. maybe kageyama did knock some sense into the blonde as he was now able to thinking clearly, recollect on how poorly he treated you and wonder why he did those things.

truly, he wanted nothing more to apologise. to tell you how awful he was and that he doesn’t hate you, quite the opposite actually! he needed to let you know that you did nothing wrong and everything bad that happened was his fault and he was willing to take full responsibility. but of course, his pride didn’t let him. all he was able to utter was, “did you check up on kageyama?”

it was a harmless question, or so he thought. just innocently inquiring about the wellbeing of his teammate and your ex, so why were tears rolling down your cheeks? and why did he feel the urge to cry too?

“yeah, but it was really awkward.”

tsukishima cheek heated up with both annoyance and at the fact your hand was now resting upon his, “why are you crying then?!” he snapped, angrily intertwining his fingers with yours, not thinking much of it, “you made it seem like he died or something!”

“why are you crying?!”

“i’m not fucking crying!” he was crying. crystalline tears running down his cheek tickling his pale skin.

outstretching your arm, you brushed your finger against his face to wipe away his tear then proceed to show him how the pad of your index finger glistened under the intense room light. “yes, you are, crybabyshima!” you half-cried, half-laughed, resulting in tsukishima hunching over to cackle at the nickname.

“i’m crying at how stupid you are!” he tired to hiss but he really couldn’t take himself seriously, involuntarily punctuating each word with a chuckle or wheeze.

“watch it, kei. the stupid one of us is in a hospital bed.”

he quirked a brow, breathing frantically from having just laughed his lungs out, “uh, yeah. because of stupidest one’s boyfriend.” he didn’t even know if what he was saying made sense or not, as his main priority was trying to catch his breath.

“ex boyfriend.” you corrected, both of you becoming uncomfortably aware that you were still holding hands at the same time, yet neither of you dared to move an inch. you sniffled while wiping your cheek with the sleeve of your jacket, “kageyama told me what happened. it was vague but he said that you attacked him because he cheated on me, is that what really happened?”

his memory of the event was as hazy as that description. although, that sounded about right but now that he heard it aloud, he realised how pathetic it sounded so obviously he didn’t want to admit to that sort of behaviour. “i don’t remember.”

“it doesn’t sound like you.” your voice was hushed, as if he was going to scold you if you spoke up. “so what do you remember?”

the headache that was previously preventing him from doing any deep thinking had now somewhat dissipated, allowing his to avert his gaze onto the hospital floor as he hummed in thought, “the last thing i remember clearly was walking to school the night after you-” he gulped, the horrible memories suddenly flooding into his mind, making his lips twitch into a frown as he recalled all the nasty things he said to you, “the night after you called me.”

you nodded, the memories not treating you kindly either as all you were able to do was mouth an ‘oh’.

“listen, (y/n).” tsukishima started, the sight of your dejected aura prompting him to finally, partially, speak his mind. “i’m sorry about what i said. i don’t even know why i said it so i don’t have an explanation..i’m just sorry.” he didn’t expect forgiveness, in all honesty. if the roles were reverse, he was unsure as to whether he’d forgive you or not. well, he probably would but still, that’s just because he’s fallen so he doesn’t expect the same leeway from you.

but to his surprise, your expression softened as you cooed, “it’s fine, kei.” with a shrug, absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. “i somewhat forgive you.”

his eyes basically popped out of their sockets, “what?” he almost instantly blurted out, looking at you as if you had gone mad. “why?” there was slight disgust laced in his voice, but that was as expected of him so you didn’t read to much into it.

“because you’re hot.” you joked with an eyeroll, taken back by the audacity he had to question your decision, “why do you care? just be thankful that we can be friends again!” you chirped but his grimace wiped the smile clean off you face.

he genuinely would’ve been more content if you had just stopped after your first statement. i mean, you looked at him like he was your world, even when he was laying beaten on a hospital bed, and the way your thumb gently stoked the back of his frail, calloused hand like it was treasure resulted in butterflies erupting in his stomach. was that just you being friendly?

“you really are stupid.” he tutted, averting his gaze from your watery eyes as it would do nothing more than evoke unneeded and unappreciated emotions within him. “i think i’ve made it exceeding clear that i don’t want to be your friend.” despite his efforts, his words still sounded unsure and a light blush kept creeping onto his features.

a gasp escaped your lips, your eyebrows furrowing as you immediately felt a surge of impenetrable rage shoot through your body, “why not?! i thought we were getting on like old times.” after the initial rush of adrenaline subsided, you found yourself sulking, slumping back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest like a child. you just wanted things to go back to the way they were before, was that too much to ask? or did he truthfully detest you? and if that’s the case, why was he holding your hand so tightly, refusing to let go?

“idiot, i mean i want to be your boyfriend.” the last word was spoken meekly, as if it was a curse. “i didn’t think i’d have to spell it out for you but i guess i shouldn’t have overestimated your intelligence.” ironic, considering that you didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that he was joking. you had known him for long enough to be aware that he was physically incapable of giving a compliment without following it up with sarcasm or an insult.

it was as if someone had lit a blast furnace underneath your chair as you felt your whole body heat up to an uncomfortable extend, instantly aware of your hand in his you felt your palm become clammy — or perhaps that was his — either way, you were quick to yank away, leaving tsukishima extremely confused and oddly offended.

“kei..” you breathed, mind completely blank, “why?”

“what do you mean? i don’t know why.” this whole week has been a roller-coaster of emotions for him and now he was trying to finally bail himself out but you weren’t making it any easier, but at the end of the day, he only had himself to blame as you’d probably be a lot more forthcoming if it wasn’t for his past attitude.

there was a part of him that was ready to gush on to you about how warm you make him, how your touch sends butterflies through his body, how your general demeanour makes him feel as though he could entrust his whole life to you but his pride wouldn’t allow him to express said thoughts.

but fortunately, he didn’t need to elaborate as your finger found his jaw, tilting it upwards so he’d meet your reassuring gaze, “i’d love to. we could go to that dessert place near your house and get that couple’s discount! well, when you recover, of course.”

poor, simp tsukki didn’t even try to resist the smile his lips curled into as your minty breath tickled his skin. “i ask you out and the first thing you think about is dessert? typical.”

smirking, you leaned in to pinch his cheek but immediately jerked backwards when he winced, “ah, i’m sorry! old habits die hard.” you chuckled awkwardly, feeling a resurgence of the previous heat when he kissed the back of your hand to show no hard feelings.

“it’s fine. but as an apology, stay with me for a while.” he said, his eyes fixated on the window by his bed. his hand subconsciously finding it’s way into yours once again.

#haikyuu x gender neutral reader #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima oneshot #haikyuu x gn!reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#👾fluff

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yamag00ps · 3 years

Text

safekeeping

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: friends to lovers, love triangle

contains: fluff

word count: 1.1k

summary: bokuto and akaashi talk about you on the car ride home.

note: here is part 2 of first names! I decided to continue. enjoy :-)

part 1, part 3, part 4

The rest of the car ride consisted of you speaking a majority of the time while the other two listened, though you just assumed it was due to the long day of shopping. As the car stopped in front of your apartment, you reached over your seat to hug Bokuto goodbye and ruffled a hand in his hair. You and Akaashi stepped out of the car as you gathered your shopping bags.

“Do you need any help?” Akaashi asked.

“Nah they’re actually really light, but thank you!” You hugged him too. Akaashi took his seat and shut the door as Bokuto rolled down Akaashi’s window.

“Bye Bo!” Bokuto smiled at the nickname you gave him.

“Bye Keiji,” your gaze lingered a second longer on Akaashi as you put a knuckle out, waiting for him to return the punch. It was your subtle, yet innocent way of acknowledging the newfound closeness between the two of you.

Akaashi slightly winced at his first name, choosing not to look at Bokuto’s expression this time. The two of them waved as they waited for you to get into the building before driving off.

Thankfully, Bokuto spoke up before an awkward silence could take over. Bokuto has always been very open about his emotions, which Akaashi was particularly thankful for at this moment.

“So… Keiji, huh?”

“Yeah, about that.” Akaashi was ready to tell his best friend everything until Bokuto continued talking.

“I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a slap in the face,” he nervously laughed, “It came out of nowhere! I don’t even call you that!” Bokuto’s seemingly lighthearted demeanor put Akaashi on edge because for once, he couldn’t tell if it was a front or not. But Akaashi genuinely chuckled anyway, remembering how it began in the first place. All he had to do was be honest.

“It started out as a joke. We were arguing —well, she was arguing— about whether or not the chicken or the egg came fir—“

“The chicken.” Bokuto stated matter-of-factly. Akaashi laughed at this.

“..Yup. She made that very clear.”

“The theory of evolution, right?” Bokuto grinned at this memory while Akaashi’s smile faltered.

Oh.

“Uh, yeah,” a nervous chuckle escaped Akaashi’s lips. It was his turn to feel a slap in the face.

Bokuto didn’t mean to hurt Akaashi by revealing that he already had a similar conversation with you. And it shouldn’t be that surprising, Bokuto knew you first.

So, why did Akaashi feel a bit hollow all of a sudden? It was a feeling similar to growing attached to a stray puppy, only to find out that its owners were looking for it. Or also kind of like when someone sends you a Spotify playlist titled, “for you” only to find that it already has 7 followers. Whatever it was, it was unpleasant.

He also couldn’t settle on an emotion. Was he sad? Jealous? Did he somehow feel played, even though he’s sure that wasn’t your intention? If Bokuto noticed the change in his expression, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“We learned about that in our bio class last year. The chicken or egg debate got her pretty heated and for some reason, I found that so attractive,” Bokuto shook his head and laughed. “I then learned that she wasn’t even a science major! That was probably the best part.”

This memory was enough to convert Bokuto back to his normal self, temporarily forgetting about the use of first names. Akaashi, on the other hand, felt the tension thicken internally.

He stayed silent, only politely chuckling here and there, wanting nothing more than for Bokuto to stop elaborating on his feelings for you.

“I don’t think I ever told you, but she used to scare me! She was so smart— is so smart. And, don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful, but after hearing the way she spoke? That’s what really got me, dude.” He shook his head in disbelief at how smitten he was. “I was actually annoyed that the professor made us change the subject because I could’ve listened to her all day.”

At this point, Bokuto was too caught up in the memory of you to notice Akaashi’s discomfort. This was the most he has heard of his best friend’s feelings. Before today, all he knew was that Bokuto had taken an interest in you and enjoyed your company. Yes, Bokuto talked about you occasionally, but Bokuto also had a lot of crushes, so Akaashi rarely took his friend’s pining seriously.

He continued, “You know, I think I’d pay to listen to her talk about the different species of.. I don’t know.. Grass.” Akaashi snickered at this. “I don’t know, I’ve never met anyone like her man.”

This time Akaashi sighed and responded honestly, “I can say the same. She’s funny.” Bokuto laughed and agreed.

Hearing Bokuto confess that all he wanted to do was listen to someone speak was new, seeing as he was usually the most talkative one in any room.

“Why haven’t you confessed to her?” Akaashi finally asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. Bokuto thought about this for a bit. His best friend had a point, he normally had no issue going after whoever he took interest in.

Bokuto thought back to the memory of hearing you speak in class -- the way your voice refused to waver and the way you stood your ground over something so silly. He remembered you glancing at him, waiting for him to chime in like he normally would. Any other day, he would’ve joined the conversation, but for the first time, he found himself incapable of forming a coherent sentence.

“Because for the first time I’m actually scared to be rejected,” Bokuto admitted.

This sheer honesty only made Akaashi feel worse -- the two of them growing more fond of you by the minute. Relief washed through him as Bokuto answered a phone call, not giving Akaashi the chance to respond.

Well.. shit.

What was Akaashi supposed to tell him now? He didn’t even know if he, himself, genuinely liked you yet, did he? Though it wouldn't be that shocking if it turned out that he did, he decided he needed more time to sort through his own feelings. Maybe he simply felt comfortable with you and it was nothing more. Maybe.

He closed his eyes and ignored the sweet aftertaste of your first name lingering in his mouth, and the way that nothing has felt more natural than your hand in his. He shook the memory of his fingers tracing his name onto your back and the way you tried not to melt into his touch. He attempted to shut down the desire to hold you in any way you would let him and mentally discarded the image of you glowing in the sun the first time you used his given name. He especially tried to forget how he was so sure that whatever higher power designed the sun probably used you for reference.

Akaashi shoved all of this information far away into an imaginary filing cabinet in his head.

You know, just for safekeeping.

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

a/n: I decided to continue this! yay! I am planning on adding more, but I can't promise how soon I'll get to writing it. please be patient with me <3 (find me on ao3!)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu fluff #love triangle #friends to lovers #haikyuu imagines #haikyū!!

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Guilt

Sam Winchester x Reader (x Dean Winchester, sort of?)

Word Count: 1660 what is wrong with me why can’t I drabble

Warnings: Oh boy this one is naughty. Lust curse and the consent issues that come with the territory. Soulless Sam being kind of a dick, because that’s what he does. Filthy smut, twisty emotions, and some degradation-flavored dirty talk.

A/N: @littlegreenplasticsoldier: “With my remaining 5% battery, may I pls request a Dean/Sam/reader threesome but one of them is remote in some way (left a note/on the phone/gave instructions). Xo”

This is... something like that, anyway. Kinda obsessed with the prompt, kinda want to expand on this, definitely could’ve written another couple thousand words here.

ANYWAY. Enjoy.

“Yeah, Dean, it’s bad,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Like, she’s about to go sit on a fencepost bad.”

I squirmed and fisted my hands in the cheap motel duvet. Sam looked me up and down, smirking. It was the feral, sharp smile that I’d gotten a little too used to since his soul went M.I.A; he looked like he was mentally undressing me, and it usually pissed me off, but in that moment I couldn’t deny how much I liked it.

“Look, dude, I know this is the sort of thing I shouldn’t be comfortable saying, but… there’s only one option here.” He paused again, wrinkling his nose expressively. “Quit the prim and proper shit, Dean, just let me get her off.”

He listened for a minute while I waited, rubbing my thighs together, fighting the animalistic urge to spread my legs and beg. It was only getting worse; I could feel the curse clawing at my insides, winding me up with every labored breath.

“Don’t worry, Dean, I got this,” Sam said into the phone. “You can clutch your pearls later. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

He strode over and passed me the phone before matter-of-factly popping the button of his jeans, and if it was physically possible for me to blush hotter, I would’ve. As it was, my entire body felt like a goddamn wildfire.

“Hey, princess,” Dean said gruffly. I closed my eyes, basking in the warm familiar sound of his voice. “You okay with this? It’s just… I think it’ll be a good six hours, no matter how many fuckin’ traffic laws I break.”

I still had my eyes squeezed shut, but I could feel the mattress dip as Sam sat down on the bed.

“Can’t wait that long,” I whispered. “Can’t… fuck, Dean, I miss you so much.”

“Yeah, you have no idea. This is so fuckin’...” He huffed out a breath.

“Can you just… can you just talk to me for a minute?” I asked.

I tried to wedge the cell phone between my shoulder and my ear as I fumbled with the button of my jeans. I heard a low chuckle and when I opened my eyes Sam was staring down at me, amused and unapologetic and totally naked. He batted my hands away and got my zipper down, and I closed my eyes again, listening to the staticky rush of Dean’s sigh, trying not to think about who was pulling my jeans off and settling between my legs. I still had my t-shirt on, and it felt like thick itchy wool on my oversensitized skin, but I couldn’t stand the idea of being stripped bare.

“You gonna imagine it’s me?” Dean asked, low and growly and possessive.

“Y — yeah.” I made a squeaky, strangled noise as Sam slid two fingers up into me without warning, but then I groaned at the tingling full-body shiver of relief, my voice loud and obscene before I bit down on the fleshy part of my palm in an effort to hold back.

Sam started fucking me lazily with his fingers, thumb rubbing my clit every time he buried them in me, and I was trembling already, rocking my hips, trying to hold back a slutty moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Dean said roughly.

“Yeah,” I whined, arching my back and seeing sparks behind my eyelids. “I — nnnnnnhhhh, fuck, Dean, I — I’m so close, this is crazy, I want — I wish it was you. I’m sorry, I can’t — can’t help it.”

“Not your fault. Do whatever you gotta do, okay?”

“‘Kay,” I breathed.

“‘You gonna come for me? Let me hear you.”

For a second I hovered on the brink, trembling and straining.

Then I felt Sam shift, his tongue a soft smooth flicker as it curled between his fingers to taste me. I bit my lip so hard that tears stung my eyes.

“You’re dripping all over the sheets,” Sam said, so quiet that I was sure Dean wouldn’t be able to hear it over my harsh breathing. “Making such a mess… you’ll be a mess, too, by the time I’m done with you.”

I groaned and arched up, coming with the sort of blackout intensity that felt like a free-fall, squeezing around Sam’s fingers over and over.

There was a moment of breathtaking relief, as it started to fade. For a split-second I thought that was it; maybe that was enough. Then Sam’s calloused fingers dragged against something hot-sweet-sharp inside me, and that feverish desire was sparking up again, rising fast. I collected myself just enough to bring the phone to my ear.

“I’m gonna hit the road,” Dean was saying, and I knew he was trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice was grim and unhappy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, Dean,” I breathed.

“Do what you need to do,” he echoed.

I hung up, tossing the phone away like it had burned me, and let out a frustrated groan. Sam pulled away so that I could sit up and wrestle with my shirt. I felt so fucking empty, and the need to be touched was immediate and overwhelming.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “This is gonna be a thing for the two of you, huh?”

I let out a strangled laugh, struggling with my bra. “You’re his brother. You don’t think this is a little fucked-up?”

“Not really,” he said casually. As soon as I was naked he was crawling up my body, slinking gracefully, caging me in with all that lithe rippling muscle and smooth skin, and for a moment I just stared up at him, incapable of logic or guilt or anything other than want. He hovered over me, smirking.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I accused, clenching around nothing and trying not to look down his body.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you,” he said bluntly. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t imagined it?”

I shook my head stubbornly. “I’m in love with Dean.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he retorted.

My heart was racing. Holding eye contact felt like having my finger in an electrical socket. “God, you can’t be — you’re not Sam. You’re not.”

He rolled his eyes. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.”

“Sam wouldn’t —” I choked out, but I couldn’t take it and I couldn’t lie any more. I couldn’t hold on to coherent thought with the desperate roaring heat under my skin, like some fierce primal scream was drowning out everything else in my head.

I grabbed at his shoulders, dragging him down against me and hooking my legs around his waist, trying to rub myself against him. He chuckled and rolled his hips, letting me feel the thick length of his cock where it was trapped against my lower belly, and I whined shamelessly, feeling like I could come if he so much as brushed against my clit the right way.

“If you’re so sure I’m not Sam, then what’s the problem?” he pointed out calmly. “One less thing to get hung up on, if I’m not his brother.”

And I was pretty sure there was a problem with that logic, because I shouldn’t be this wet and eager for anyone else, but I was done arguing.

“Fuck me,” I snapped. “C’mon, just — I can’t, feel like I’m losing my fucking mind, just —” I reached down between us, shaky and uncoordinated, trying to get him inside me without putting any space between our bodies.

He didn’t bother teasing anymore, just lined up, rubbing the head of his cock against my slick cunt, pressing in and sinking down. The sharp painful stretch of it registered along with the too-full toe-curling pleasure, splitting me open inch by inch until I wasn’t sure I could take any more. Then he snapped his hips forward the last inch, burying himself in me completely with this grinding, twisting thrust, too fucking much.

“This isn’t how Dean fucks you, is it?” he asked, right up against my ear, hips circling, and for a moment the words didn’t make sense.

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop talking, dimly aware that the mention of his brother should’ve made me uncomfortable, but instead what came out was a needy, blissed-out moan.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” I gasped.

“So stop wasting time thinking about Dean,” Sam snarled.

“Don’t.”

“Best thing about not having a soul? Not wasting time feeling guilty for taking what I want.” He punctuated the last word with a vicious twist of his hips, and electricity lanced up my spine. “Right now you just want someone to hold you down and fuck you until you can’t take it any more. You want it rough and hard and fucking filthy, and you’re glad Dean isn’t here to see you begging like a whore… aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re glad it’s me.”

I knew it was fucked up and twisted and humiliating. I should’ve denied it.

“Am I wrong?” he growled. “Look at me.”

I tried to focus through the sting of sweat and the blurry haze of endorphins. His lip curled, contemptuous, and there was a hard flinty glitter in his eyes, but he still looked so much like Sam that I forgot how to breathe. Sizzling pressure was rising in my core, building rapidly. I couldn’t think straight.

“You’re… you’re not wrong,” I stammered. “Please. Please don’t stop. Feels so good, just — Sam.” I caught a glimpse of his fierce, satisfied smile.

“Are you going to waste time feeling guilty?” he murmured, voice cracking. “Or are you going to take what you want?”

Enough.

I let out a low, desperate groan before surging up to kiss him, and he bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“You know what I want,” I whispered. “Shut the fuck up and give it to me.”

I might not ever get the chance to do this again, after all. Might as well enjoy it while I could.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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masterwords · 3 years

Text

Be My Breath

Notes: Inspired by @unionjackpillow's brilliant plot bunny. I changed it up some because I am weak but I think the feeling is still in tact. There is a bomb threat at a school that puts Jack at risk while Hotch and the team are away. It's a heavy storyline but it's ultimately just sweet sweet Hotchgan with a happy ending, I promise. It's chaotic and hopefully coherent.

Warnings: bomb threat at a school, kids in danger, explosion(s)

Words: ~2500

“You stay here,” Aaron says, eyes downcast. He simply can't look at any of them while they're watching him, waiting for him to crumble. Normally they wouldn't expect it but after the couple of weeks he's had, none of them could blame him. He'd just come back from a week off, bleeding out the last of whatever it was that Peter Lewis did to him. Things he wouldn't tell any of them, things he never included in any of the reports. “The team needs you.” It's all he can do to push the words out, to produce logic over emotion. A true test of his will. Derek advances on him, looms over him in a way he doesn't often have occasion to and he shakes his head. He's adamant, subordinate, there is no changing his mind. The world has stopped spinning on its axis, people have ceased to exist outside of this room, they're in a vacuum. Sealed in with the overwhelming scent of fear. 150 miles lie between them and Aaron's undoing.

“That's my kid, too,” Derek says through gritted teeth, aggressive body language but soft almost pleading voice. Gravelly, emotional. Muscles in his jaw flex and release awaiting Aaron's next move, expectant. Prepared for a fight that doesn't come. Aaron never looks up but he sighs and nods almost imperceptibly, overcome by the hugeness of what Derek has just said. He loves Jack, everyone knows that, but he's never said anything like that before. He can't deal with that right now, he can't unpack what it means when Derek calls Jack his kid, he just knows it's inexplicably good and he doesn't deserve it but Jack does so he agrees. “You left me behind when Adrian Bale threatened our family,” Derek continues, strong, steady fingers lacing with Aaron's. His trembling steadied by Derek's might. “I'm not about to let that happen again.”

“You guys take the jet. We'll finish up here and drive back to Quantico.” Aaron recognizes Dave's voice, a balm on his soul, but it feels far away, he tries to swallow and nod but he's losing himself and his ability to lead his team. Losing, or lost, he's not sure. His veins run with ice and he's incapable of doing the things that have always come naturally to him. Derek steps forward and thanks the team for understanding, pulls Aaron toward the door and it's all Aaron can do to keep himself upright.

“Aaron? It's Will,” the voice was too calm, too collected for the sounds of chaos behind him. Sirens, people shouting, engines roaring. “Jessica's been tryin' to reach you for an hour but I guess you've been in a prison so I thought I'd call JJ – there was a bomb threat at the junior high, Jack's band class was over there practicing for their concert – as far as I know, they're all still inside. There's no word on injuries and there haven't been any explosions yet. I'm here working, SWAT and the Bomb Squad are here –”

Aaron squints to try and reconcile the words coming out of Will's mouth, they don't seem to make sense. Bombs and Jack and the junior high? Jack is in fifth grade, it doesn't...his brain can't seem to form the connections. He hands the phone to Derek, pleads softly and silently and watches as Derek talks to Will, absorbs the information Will so graciously hands out for a second time. As he watches Derek, things are clicking and he's suddenly aware of every muscle, every pore, every inch of him lit up, coiling. They storm out of the prison quickly, leaving their inmate and the guards wondering what the hurry is. By the time they find the team at the precinct they all know, JJ's on the phone with Will making plans, everyone is doing something important and Aaron...he's frozen, he can't move.

It never takes long to get the jet ready to go, they still can't believe they're not driving. 150 miles separates them from Jack, from a school full of terrified children. 150 miles doesn't seem like much to men who travel so often, until they have to cross those miles to get to someone they love in danger. They might as well need to get to the moon now as they settle into their seats awaiting take off. Aaron fumbles with his phone, calls Garcia to see if she's been able to remote into the school's security cameras, calls his contacts with SWAT to get details they aren't able to give. No one seems to know anything and his anxiety is growing like a tumor in his belly, snaking its tendrils into intercostal spaces, twisting around his sternum until he feels like he's about to explode.

“I'm gonna make us some tea,” Derek says, trying to maintain some semblance of peace or tranquility. He's usually the last one to remain calm, the roles have reversed and he's fumbling around trying to think of what Aaron would do if it were him. “Stop looking at your phone, please. It isn't helping. There's nothing we can do until we land.” He gets up and walks to the back, letting his hand stop momentarily on Aaron's shoulder, squeeze softly before he drags it away. Instead of putting his phone down, Aaron searches out news, finds a live feed and stares. If he was working this he'd be furious at the irresponsible coverage, the way they're talking and rolling cameras while distraught parents are watching but being so helpless, so high above and far away, it connects him to his son.

When the first explosion rocks the gymnasium, he sees it in real time. Listens to the boom, the smoke, hears bits of shrapnel rain down on the news vans. The journalists are wild, in a frenzy, shouting DID YOU SEE THAT? WHAT WAS THAT? The feed never goes black but no one is talking, the scene goes quiet as law enforcement tries to get a handle on the damage. A heavy feeling settles over everyone as things become too real - a bomb threat just became an attack on a school. Aaron doesn't blink, doesn't swallow, feels electricity crackle over his skin and with a fist he didn't remember balling up he lashes out, punches the hull, smashes his fist into the jet's belly hard enough to feel his bones crack and the thin skin over his knuckles break wide open. He leaves behind a smear of blood and a startled grunt, a shock of pain washes over him. He's not breathing, not registering anything when Derek comes flying out of the kitchenette to find Aaron crouched on the floor, curled around his hand, eyes wild and feral.

“What happened?” Derek shouts, kneeling beside Aaron. “What did you do?”

“There was an explosion,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He's barely human, just a ball of rage bound by an elaborate textile prison. Derek steadies the tremble in his muscles in order to pull Aaron to him, one hand splayed over the back of his neck, warm skin, downy hairs against his fingers. He pulls Aaron in, forehead to forehead until the tips of their noses touch and he closes his eyes.

“We land in ten minutes,” he whispers, tightening the grip on Aaron's neck. “I'm going in with the bomb squad when we get there, you go find Jess.” This snaps Aaron out of his trance, panic flashes bright behind warm amber eyes.

“No,” he says with a finality Derek refuses to accept. “You're not going in there.”

Without gracing Aaron with a reply, Derek pulls his hand toward him, kisses his bloody broken knuckles and Aaron breaks down and cries. Ugly, messy tears. Derek is careful with his hand and pulls him close, wraps his arms around Aaron's shoulders, presses his cheek to his chest. He's going into that building, he's got to see for himself. “My son is in that building,” Derek whispers, lips soft against the top of Aaron's head, rustling soft black hair. “And so are a lot of other people's kids. I have to do something.”

Aaron wants to plead that he can't lose both of them, but Derek already knows. He doesn't need to say it. Derek is holding his hand so gently, cradling broken fingers against his heartbeat covered in ice because even if Aaron can do that himself, he's perfectly capable of icing his own broken hand, Derek needs to be touching him. Aaron is beside himself, tangled inside of dangerous thoughts. Wondering why the hell he does the job he does, they're out trying to catch one maniac and another is right on his heels. Like weeds, capture one and three more pop up – they can't catch them all, no matter how they try and they'll never be safe. By the time the jet lands, his phone is ringing off the hook.

“The bomb squad just sent in a first group,” she says, barely hiding the panic in her voice. “You're almost here aren't you?”

Derek is already on the phone with Will, making plans while Aaron sinks into the passenger seat and just listens to Jessica's voice. It soothes his nerves somehow knowing she's there, she dropped everything to go to his son, to try and protect him and be there. Jack may have lost his mother but he had no shortage of people who loved him, who tried to fill in the spaces. Derek turns on the sirens in spite of Aaron's resistance, as much as he wants to get there faster he's already broken enough rules to get himself and his entire team fired. It's all he can do to sit and listen, knowing that the sirens and the flashing lights were for him. Again.

Jessica reaches out for Aaron instinctively, wrapping her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to get herself as close to him as she can. He holds onto her for dear life, breathes her in, unruly blonde curls tickling his nose. She'll ask him about his hand later, he doesn't seem worried about how gruesome it looks.

“Derek's going in, isn't he?” she asks, already knowing the answer. He just nods and buries his face in her mop of hair, trying to gather his bearings. Trying to remember that he runs scenes like this in his sleep, he needs to pull himself together. “They don't think anyone was in the gym when the bomb went off,” she offers, pulling away to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “Just a show.”

They watch as Derek suits up and runs in with the second wave of SWAT, watch as Will stands and directs from behind the barricade. Like a wave crashing against the shore they storm the building, flood the entry ways in a sea of black, shields high heads down. Another explosion rocks the east end, far away from the entry points and brick crumbles to the ground, sprays onlookers with shrapnel. Aaron drapes himself over Jessica protectively, holds her close to him, turns his back to shards of glass and pebbles flying through the air. People are screaming and then it goes silent as the dust settles but Aaron can't look – too much of his life is wrapped up inside of that building, he can't watch it come crashing down.

“Aaron!” Will hollers and Aaron pulls Jessica with him, ducks under the tape and past the line of officers holding parents in place. He flashes his credentials in his broken hand, makes his way to where Will is calling out instructions to his team. “Aaron,” he says quieter. “It was the maintenance building in back, no one was inside but we have to get those kids out of there before they stop playin' around and start hurtin' people. Me'n my team are going in when Derek gives us the go ahead, you think you can handle this mess out here?”

There were very few times in Aaron's life that he didn't think he could handle something but this was up there. His head was foggy, spinning wildly and he clutched his credentials with broken fingers because there wasn't anything else he could do. “Be safe,” he says sternly, putting on his best imitation of the SSA Hotchner mask – it's cracked and fragile but still functional. Still useful enough, it gets the job done. He's not very helpful, he's holding parents back and saying words that he'd never want to hear if it were him.

When lines of children begin flowing through the doors, directed by big men in black, hurried terrified faces rushing into the shrieking crush of parents waiting expectantly, he lets out a shaky breath. Aaron did his best to remain detached, he couldn't watch the flood of children and teachers, he couldn't let his eyes wander over those scared faces searching for his own. Above them the sky opens up, dumps a torrent of angry rain on the burning embers of the buildings. Beside him Jessica gasps and he lets his eyes close, expecting the worst somehow – he's not in the head space for this, he's barely overcome the trauma inflicted by Peter Lewis, unable to trust his own judgment, his own eyes. Reality is still off kilter and he wonders how much longer it can go on, how much longer he can sustain the feeling that everything is wrong, or he is wrong.

“Aaron,” she says, nudging him and he starts to turn when he hears Jack's voice.

“DAD!” Jack cries, flying toward his father with arms outstretched and then his arms are wrapped tight around Aaron's waist, face buried in a now tear soaked shirt. “Dad...” he whispers again, holding tight enough that Aaron thinks he might pass out, knees like jelly beneath him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse and Jack nods, cheek against his father's stomach.

“I knew what to do dad,” he says softly, pulling away from his father to wrap Derek in a hug. Derek who hadn't been there a moment ago, Derek who was covered in soot and was coughing into his elbow, Derek who was a little worse for wear but alive. Before Aaron can process the scene, he sees Will and a teacher approaching them and he holds himself firm against everything that tells him to wrap his family in his arms and never let them go. The family he never deserved, never thought he'd have, almost lost.

“Jack is a hero,” the teacher says, ruffling Jack's hair. “He saved his friends by thinking on his feet, they were in the gymnasium minutes before the blast.” Aaron smiles, nods, doesn't know how to respond. His son was nearly dead and he was still in the air, his hand throbs suddenly, becomes almost unbearable. Derek can sense it, the desperation, the way Aaron somehow knew without knowing and he puts his hand on Aaron's shoulder, squeezing.

“Guess I'm not the only hero in the family anymore, huh?” Aaron croaks, smiling at Jack with tears in his eyes, and Derek coughs, rolls his eyes.

“Hey, what about me?”

Aaron smirks and leans into Derek while Jack's teacher continues to tell Jessica what he'd done, how he saved his band class. “You're my hero. You did that,” he says softly, slipping his arm around Derek's waist, thick padding against his throbbing hand. “You taught him how to handle these situations.”

Derek nods, beaming proudly. He'll take the credit here and he'll clutch it close. He can hardly believe the words he's about to say, the words he's privileged to say. “That's my boy.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #will lamontagne #mortch #jack hotchner #bomb #explosion #school threat #hotchgan

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destiniesfic · 3 years

Photo

132 Hours, Chapter 12

No, Cardan doesn’t hate the smell of cinnamon. And maybe somehow, inexplicably, he doesn’t hate me.

Note: This chapter contains explicit content. Proceed with caution!

Read chapter 12 on AO3, or read below:

I don’t know when I decide it.

Maybe it’s in that moment, curled up on that mattress, clutching at his shirt and wishing it wasn’t empty. That a boy was there to fill it with warmth and body, the shape of his kiss lingering on my forehead, the ghosts of his fingers in my hair. I stay like that for a long time, marveling at his gentleness. Then I peel off my dress and pull on his shirt. It’s big. It makes me wonder about the way he’d fit on me, against me.

Maybe it’s later, when the Bomb comes to check on me and sits down with me for a while, talking to me as I swallow my pride and blink back tears. “You’re doing so well,” she says, with her knees pulled into her chest, rocking back and forth on her heels. “You’re great. Not too much longer now.” And when she puts her hand on my shoulder, I wish she was Cardan, that her small hand was his larger one.

Maybe it’s after that, when the Ghost hangs out with me for a little while, standing, not sitting, propping himself up against the wall. “You want to watch anything?” he asks, as I blink at the glare in his palm and realize this is the first phone I’ve seen in almost five days. “News? Bachelorette season recaps?” I ask him to play an old episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved if we have the bars for it, and he does, tilting the screen in my direction. I appreciate his aloofness—it makes me feel like my situation is less dire—but I wish I were watching it with Cardan.

Maybe I never decide it. Maybe it was always decided for me, all the way back when I hit puberty, when I came back to school and suddenly he was the only thing I ever wanted to smell again. I don’t know. I don’t want to believe that biological determinism runs my life, that all our choices are coded into our genes. I want to have free will. Yet maybe it does all come down to that moment, when I scented him, and then a breeze picked up my hair and drove him absolutely bananas.

Because that must have been what happened. Because Cardan doesn’t hate cinnamon at all. Because he was just in here to help me drink down my water and tell me I was good. Because he tucked my hair behind my ear and seemed so sad when I asked him not to hurt me on purpose. Because he sat in the chair outside and rattled off a list of supposed achievements of mine, things he admired me for.

No, Cardan doesn’t hate the smell of cinnamon. And maybe somehow, inexplicably, he doesn’t hate me.

I don’t know when he decided that any more than I know when I decide this. Maybe it’s the spur of the moment. By the time Cardan returns that night, I am once again drenched in my own sweat and various other fluids, I am just about on the verge of screwing anything or anyone, and it feels like fire ants are crawling all over me. Still, I think I can push through it. My symptoms have been steadily escalating, so it’s not like any of this is new, just worse.

“Hi,” Cardan says, folding himself up in his usual corner. Lavender lingers in the air, riding the coattails of his scent. “How goes it?”

“Bad,” I manage. Single syllables are about my limit, even though the worst of my cramps have subsided for the moment.

“Yeah. I could’ve guessed.” He pauses, wrestling with himself over something. “Um, this is going to suck, undeniably, but I’m kind of glad to be back in here.”

“What?” I pick up my head. “You’re crazy.”

“For sure. You knew that already, right?” He laughs at himself, tilting his head back, exposing his throat to me. I think my mouth starts watering. God, I need this to be over. “But out there I kept wondering how you were doing. I was really distracted. I wanted to keep checking on you, make sure you were okay.” He shrugs. “It’s just… like, alpha stuff. Hardwired, instinct stuff.”

“Yeah,” I say mildly. I put my head back down.

“I can’t wait for this to be over.”

It’s weird how his words echo my thoughts. Feeling defensive, I say, “So you can go back to just caring about yourself?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Jude, if you think I care much about myself, your brain really is scrambled eggs.”

“I think you’re vain.”

“You would be too, if you were me. I like to look hot and wear nice clothes, so what?”

I roll my eyes.

“Vanity’s not what I’m talking about,” he continues. “Self-preservation, either.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his curls, distracted, restless. “I don’t know. But I don’t think either of us are very good at it.”

I turn over then. I don’t want to talk to him anymore. There’s a feeling in me, like smoldering embers, that has very little to do with my heat, with fever or desire. It takes a little prodding to realize that it’s annoyance, or even anger. I’m angry with him. Why am I angry with him?

Because I remember Cardan saying he wanted to take care of me. And the part of me that I tamp down on, the omega part, the vulnerable part, the part that is now exposed and very naked, very raw, wants that so much. If he doesn’t hate me, what is he waiting for? He’s the alpha. Everything points to him making the first move, and he is not moving.

Is he going to make me do it? He’s going to make me do it. Well, I hate him for it. I refuse.

Except when the next cramp rolls through me, it decimates my self-control.

“Cardan,” I whine.

Cardan has not said anything in a few minutes, so I think he might be sleeping, but he picks up his head immediately. “What, what is it?”

“Come here.”

I hear him inhale sharply. “Oh, fuck. Jude, no.”

“Why?” On the verge of tears, I try to twist toward him and end up with my shirt—his shirt—hiked up, my body tangled in the blankets. They scrape at my skin, but if I throw them off I’ll be too cold. Everything is discomfort, everything hurts. “Why not?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You think I’m disgusting,” I say for him. Some part of me is aware that I am babbling. Some part of me is aware that none of this is true. But it’s what I know. It’s what I revert to. And it’s easy to believe. I certainly feel disgusting. “You hate me.”

“No,” he says again, more quietly now.

“I know you hate me. You don’t want to want me. It’s okay. You don’t—have to like me.” My body spasms again. I thrash in the blankets. “Just touch me.”

“Jude.”

“It hurts so much.” My face is wet. Have I started crying? I rarely cry at pain. It must be sweat.

“You’ll hate me.” He’s trying to hold firm, but his voice shakes.

“I hate you a-already.” I duck my head into the pillow. I am not sure that’s entirely true anymore.

There is a long silence. In between my shivering and snuffling, I can hear the sound of Cardan’s breathing, ragged and heavy. “Are you sure?”

I nod, then remember he can’t see me very well. “Yes, yes. Just—”

I don’t know how he crosses the room so quickly, but one minute he is there, and the next he’s climbing on top of me, pulling down the blankets I’ve swathed myself in. I’m lying on my stomach, so I can’t see him, see what his face is doing, but I feel him. His hands are warm when they brush my skin. They do say alpha blood runs hot, don’t they? I feel a spark with every touch and can’t help writhing, trying to pull closer to him. My legs are still caught in a sheet.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Okay. Just—hold still, okay?”

That’s easy for him to say. I growl, but still as best I can. With him so near, I am shaking.

Cardan pulls the borrowed shirt up over my head, the skims a hand down my bare spine. “God,” he says, and it’s kind of a sigh and kind of a growl in return. “You, I mean… Jude…”

“Hurry up,” I snap.

He takes his hand away, and I nearly sob. But then I hear fabric rustling behind me and realize he’s just pulling off his own shirt. He practically falls on top of me after, and when he slides a hand around me to rest against my lower abdomen, I can feel him trembling too.

“Oh, fuck,” Cardan breathes, when that hand trails into my shorts, between my legs, and he feels how absolutely soaked everything is —which would make me want to die of embarrassment if I wasn’t aching to be touched. I press into his hand, rub into it, and bite into the pillow under my face to keep from being too loud.

I kind of expect Cardan to pull out some of the cheesy lines alphas are supposed to say, like to tell me how wet I am or chuckle and say that I want it so bad, don’t I? But he’s as quiet as I am and just as desperate. His breath is hot and ragged on my neck. He makes a cursory effort to finger me and then abandons it, pulling my shorts down instead and positioning himself behind me. Maybe I should care that the foreplay’s cut short, but I don’t. Fingering’s not going to help me feel any better, I just need him to—

And then he does.

Oh.

I bite down hard again and accidentally catch my tongue in my mouth, tasting blood. That hurts.

“Jude?” Cardan asks, breathless. I must have made a sound.

I shake my head; isn’t he supposed to be so flooded with hormones that he’s incapable of coherent thought? I certainly am. “Go, go,” I urge him. It’s the only thing I can seem to say.

He starts moving his hips against mine. At first I think he’s trying to take it slow, but he quickly loses the plot. Both of his hands grip my waist, pulling me into him, pulling us together and apart, and I hold onto the pillow for dear life to muffle the sounds I know I’m making.

It doesn’t hurt, not after the first couple of thrusts. Does it feel good? It’s hard to say. It feels necessary. It feels like so much. And just when I think that maybe being filled up by him isn’t so bad, that maybe it’s actually kind of good, I am caught unawares by an orgasm that’s more like a full-body convulsion. There’s not a lot of pleasure in it, but at least there’s something like catharsis.

Cardan moans and surges forward, his chest pressing against my back. He isn’t done yet, but his rhythm is breaking, his hips rolling into mine at desperate, uneven intervals. I can’t think about what any of that means as I let my own climax work through me. All I know is that he’s suddenly gripping me tighter, and he presses in—all the way, all of him—and his teeth sink into my neck, just above the juncture with my shoulder.

“Ow!” I yelp, jamming my elbow back into his side. “What the hell?”

He comes back to himself and releases me. “Sorry, I’m—sorry,” he says, and I’m surprised how easily the words fall from his lips. He nuzzles the place where he bit me, then lets out a nervous chuckle. “That, oh, that wasn’t on purpose.”

I am confused for a moment before I remember what I had asked of him, just before all of this started. It is hard to think. “Are you trying to end up with a mate at nineteen?”

“Twenty.”

“Whatever. Get off of me.”

Now he pauses. “I… can’t.”

I kick myself. Of course he can’t. We had discussed this, and both of us know the logistics of it. We’re stuck like this for a while. I am uncomfortable and relieved at the same time; a choice has been taken away from me, but maybe it’s okay. The heat rolling off of him is keeping me comfortable, and he is trembling, oddly vulnerable. I’m not alone in that. Even better, my brain is no longer clouded by fever. It must have broken while we were distracted.

“Here,” he says, and he rolls us onto our sides, which is a little better. His arm is draped over my waist, and his skin is still warm—warmer now that I don’t feel so feverish. I can feel his face pressed to my hair, hear his breathing, so when he inhales deeply, there’s no hiding it.

“Are you smelling me?” I mean for it to come out hard, annoyed, but instead I feel like it sounds curious and calm. I am so tired, and a little achy, but water has been thrown over the frantic fire in my chest.

“What?” Cardan’s voice is soft and sleepy.

“Never mind.” I shift, settling against him. “You were definitely smelling me.”

“Mmm.” He noses at the nape of my neck. “You smell good.”

“The pheromones must be going to your brain, Greenbriar. I could have sworn I reeked.”

Now Cardan outright laughs. “You’re the worst omega I’ve ever met, you know.”

“You’re not such a great alpha either.” I turn my head to try to look back at him. “You don’t hate me?”

It comes out as more of a question than I mean for it to be. Cardan shifts uneasily behind me. “You should try to get some sleep. It’s probably going to start again soon.”

“Can you sleep like this?” I ask, incredulous. He is very hard and still very inside of me. But I think I had expected that to feel worse than it does, awkward and invasive. Instead, I am strangely comfortable. I got used to him quickly, and now he fits.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out—ah.” He presses his forehead to my shoulder and I feel his cock twitch inside me which is, frankly, weird. His hand grips my bicep, hard, and he shakes all over again. “Oh.”

“So that seems like a ‘no,’” I manage, feeling flushed all over. I had almost forgotten the purpose of knotting us together like this was to lock in semen and ensure a better chance of pregnancy. Ugh. I should be getting some of those spontaneous, rolling orgasms, too, but I don’t know if I want them. I mean, yes, in theory, orgasms are good, but not being able to control when they hit…

“I’ll get used to it.” His voice is strained.

“All I’ve done is sleep for two days,” I say, but I have to stifle a yawn as I say it. I also sweated, and shivered, and maybe cried. Plus, it’s not like any of the sleep I got was particularly restful. But I won’t admit he has a point about trying to sleep. “So you… do you like me?”

Cardan smooths his hand over my side. His trembling has subsided, and he turns his head to rest his cheek against my shoulder. “That’s what I was going to tell you,” he says, “when I followed you to the beach. Before we got taken.”

Nothing, not even the fact that I just had sex with Cardan Greenbriar—something that hasn’t really sunk in yet—could have shocked me more than that admission. “What?”

“Yeah, I was going to say, uh, sorry, and that I thought you were cool, and that maybe we could start over. Locke said Taryn said you’d be there, and I figured I wouldn’t have a chance once you got busy with college, so—”

I cut him off, because it seems like he might go on forever if I don’t. “So you were going to be like, ‘Sorry for the years of psychological damage, I actually like you, can I make out with your face?’”

“Yes?”

I laugh wildly. It’s like someone’s stuck a key in my chest and unlocked it. “Wow, you are really bad at this.”

He groans. “I know.”

“I would probably have punched you.”

“You’d be well within your rights.”

I pause. “Are you into that?”

“Huh.” Cardan considers this. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t actually know. I’m going to go with ‘No, I’m probably not into erotic face-punching.’ Except maybe if you did it.”

“Oh my god.” I hide my face in the pillow even though he can’t see me. “Terrible alpha.”

“The worst.”

“You like me.”

He drapes his arm over my waist. “You’re okay.”

“You do,” I insist, more to contradict him than anything else. Do I believe it? It is so hard to believe. And yet… “It’s the most… it’s the most stereotypical thing in the world. It’s a cliché. Alpha likes omega, alpha makes omega miserable over it.”

“Alpha and omega get locked in a basement together for a few days.” He nuzzles my shoulder. “That’s how that normally ends up, right?”

I shake my head. I don’t understand how I feel so different. Our circumstances haven’t really changed. Sure, I’m not in excruciating agony anymore, but we’re still kidnapped, waiting for ransom or rescue. And yet it’s like every part of me that was coiled up has come loose in his arms. I blink. “We had sex.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” I can picture his brow furrowing as he asks, “Wait, did you somehow not notice?”

“I should be freaking out,” I inform him. “I mean, this is—you’re—”

“Your body’s flooded with happy chemicals right now,” he reminds me. “Dopamine or whatever. If you’re going to freak out, it’ll happen when your heat’s over. All the way over.”

“Yeah, right.” I shiver, but pleasantly. I’m not sure if it’s an aftershock or something else. The mattress is still grody, the blankets are still scratchy, but I am somehow more cozy, more at ease, than I can remember being in a long time. I yawn again. “Cardan?”

“Mm-hm?”

“I think I could sleep like this.”

His hand brushes my hair away from the nape of my neck, and I feel his lips come to press against it. “You should,” he says. “I’ll make sure to wake you up before it starts again.”

Again. There’s going to be more, at least a few hours more. I don’t know what to do with that information, so I don’t do anything with it. That’s a problem for the Jude who’s had a little bit more rest. With Cardan’s face against my hair, and with his body fitted against mine, I steal a precious few minutes of real sleep for the first time in days.

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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orionlakehastodie · 3 years

Text

Old Man

An NSFW Bensie Fanfic

Jessie made the mistake of calling him an old man. Ben, in his usual state would simply grin at her, roll his eyes and call her Jessica before focusing on a book, or something or the other.

Today, however, Ben was feeling a little more raunchier than usual. She wasn't sure if it was the sea breeze, the fact that they have done countless Zoom meetings and no one seems to have noticed that they're basically living on top of each other in their flat, or the fact that she had, without thought, told him in no uncertain terms that their children will definitely not go to boarding school as she got immersed in that Youtube documentary of Paris Hilton.

Whatever it is, when she called him old man earlier today, in a laughing joke about something or the other that he said - she cannot even completely remember now - most likely because she was being pounded within an inch of her life by his giant cock that really had no business being that big, or thick and just... beautiful.

Whatever it is - it made Ben want to prove to her that he was not, by any means, an old man.

And for a man almost forty, he really had no business fucking her like this, fast and hard and deep, so, so very deep and relentless for the past half an hour and he hasn't even broken in sweat.

And he's not even breathless. He's just murmuring dirty dirty words in his ears, his tongue licking at her cheek or her neck or lapping at her nipple as she goes crazy, legs twisting and turning around his hips, her back arching, her own hips bucking against his, as she orgasms again and again under his relentless fucking.

She stopped counting after the fourth orgasm. And is now a begging mess, asking him to please, kindly, stop because she doesn't think her pussy can come anymore. Her orgasms just crash one, after the other and she has been in this oversensitized state and it was driving her wild.

"How beautiful you are Jessica, how truly magnificent."

She's incapable of coherent thought now as her pussy clenches on him again and she screams in his ear.

"Ben, please, I can't anymore, it's too much..."

"I'm just showing you how young I am, my Jessie. So young, I can fuck you seven ways to Sunday, so young I'm going to make sure you feel an imprint of my cock inside of you tomorrow."

He drives his thick length a little bit deeper inside of her and he feels impossibly bigger inside her.

He won't stop, not when he's in a mood like this, and so she squeezes as hard as she can around his length. He hisses in her ear, hand gripping her breast hard.

"Then fill me, Ben." Her mouth seeks his, wanting to taste him, as she bucks her hips against his.

"Come, come inside me, until I'm full of you."

The first hot spurt of his come triggers her last orgasm and she melts under him as he thrusts erratically, shoving all that cum inside of her, there was so much she can feel it trickle as he pulls out, sliding from her pussy to her ass, squelching noises filling the room as he thrusts once, twice, before his weight collapses on top of her. His cock still sheathed inside her, keeping all his cum in.

"Fuck." She breathes on a giggle, as her pussy spasms around his cock, fluttering still after the assault she had taken.

She will walk funny tomorrow, and sitting will be a sad business. She will, as he wanted, feel an imprint of his cock inside of her.

How naughty and dirty she thinks.

How deliciously exciting.

"So, Jessica, am I an old man?" His voice held it's usual teasing lilt but he was slurring, soon her beautiful, sweet, loving, big cocked boyfriend will fall asleep on top of her. So she strokes his hair and kisses his brow.

"Not bad for an almost forty year old. I think I almost came-"

She laughs when he pinches her nipple and mumbles "minx" before turning over, his softening cock slipping out of her and tugging her to him, his opposite hand reaching below to her swollen folds to push his leaking cum back inside her.

She snuggles against his neck smiling warmly when he sleepily presses a kiss to her forehead.

"Love you, Jessie."

"I love you. Old Man."

He grumbles under his breath and only pulls her closer. Not bad at all, she thinks. Not bad at all for an old man.

===

She walks to set like a penguin the next day and she tries to pretend people aren't smirking at her behind their hands.

Let them, she thinks. She's got the hot, sweet, big cocked boyfriend at home who iced her vagina this morning and gave her a massage.

"Here."

She looks up to see her new co-star, Daisy Ridley handing her a small gel pack.

"Uhh..."

"It's an eye gel pack, but... you know. It fits well if you stick it in your knickers."

"Uhhh..." Oh she wanted the Earth to swallow her whole right about now.

"My uh... husband. He's... well, he's a tree of a man. I've had many days like that. I suspect you will too."

She gives Jessie a salute and turns to get her make up done. Her phone lights up where she left it abandoned on her chair and Jessie was about to call her to take it when she catches sight of her wallpaper. Daisy, in a dress, with a big dog in her lap and Adam Driver smiling in the background. She catches Daisy's eyes, and smiles.

#ben barnes #jessie mei li #bensie #ben barnes x jessie mei li #ben x jessie #forgive me i really ship them #daiver

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touchmycoat · 3 years

Text

qijiu bingqiu (bingliushen??) fix-it fic planning blabber

so i think i gotta keep it tight on SJ’s POV. Right before his death, he makes a deal with Xin Mo (who’s kind of a lone operator bc LBH too has to fight its power) to create this alternate timeline in exchange for his cultivation. Xin Mo can open up new dimensions no problem, and with SJ’s cultivation, it even manages to rewind the timeline. That’s not enough though—Xin Mo’s goal is only consumption, so it takes the deal but reveals there’s nothing that will actually change. The price SJ paid only opened the door.

But that’s fine, ‘cause SJ saw it coming. He also strikes another deal, this time with Death itself? Some sort of large cosmic force. The only thing he wants changed is Qi-ge’s death, and in exchange...the universe takes him. SJ will not get to exist in that second universe. SJ takes the deal.

And that’s the start of canon. SJ-as-SQQ can no longer exist. Instead, SY-as-SQQ is brought in. In order to stay cohered though, YQY’s memories and personality get a little glitched—he is physically incapable of recognizing all the ways SQQ is now not SJ. That’s why, despite SY-as-SQQ clearly being OOC, YQY never seems to see it.

Canon happens, now we’re in the post-canon world where bingqiu are married and settling down, but SQQ still kicks it with his buddies LQG and YQY every now and then. YQY still firmly believes SQQ is SJ, to SY’s increasing consternation. Is it just delusions and wishful thinking? The more YQY treats him as SJ though, the worse SY feels—he shouldn’t be stealing all this affection that doesn’t belong to him.

It all comes to head when SQQ overhears public opinion on YQY, how he’s perfect in everything but his crazy devotion to SQQ. SY thinks enough is enough. He can’t bring SJ back but he sure can tell YQY that his Xiao Jiu is dead, right? The System warns him he’ll be punished but that’s fine, it’s just not fair, SQQ can take another little mental horror trip down to BinggeLand if it means YQY can have some closure.

Except that’s not what happens. He gets YQY in private and says, “no, you don’t understand, Shen Jiu is dead.” He sees the recognition in YQY’s eyes, but he also sees the moment that recognition gets wiped. The sad smile that had fallen off of YQY’s face returns, eerily happy, as YQY says, “my apologies, Qingqiu-shidi, I must have spaced out just now, what did you say?”

Right before the System kicks him into another punishment phase, SY tries again: “Shen Jiu is dead!” He sees the recognition disappear once again from YQY’s eyes.

Inside the punishment world, Bingge has him again. “I’ve been searching for an answer to why the sniveling pathetic version of me gets you as his Shizun, and I think I figured it out.” For a moment, SY’s horrified by the possibility that Bingge has figured out his transmigrator status—if his punishment figures it out, would he be trapped inside the punishment forever? But instead, Bingge says, “Liu Qingge is still alive, meaning Shizun didn’t kill him in the spirit caves. Did his survival render such a dramatic change?” SQQ”s like “yup, yup that’s definitely it. We’re such good friends, he really changed my outlook on life, so I treated you better, mhm.”

“Shizun’s very clever then to save his own life this way. Xin Mo’s already told me about your little bargain.”

That’s how SY learns that SJ had made a deal. Holy shit, he’d thought it was just random phenomenon this whole time, but the original goods had made it all possible? He didn’t know whether to thank SJ or curse him.

But that can’t be the whole story—Xin Mo opened up a timeline, that doesn’t explain why SY is here. Bingge doesn’t know this part, but it sure feels like SJ made a second deal, paying with his life.

What would motivate the original goods to do all this? Sacrifice his hard-won cultivation and his entire existence in this last-ditch effort?

The memory of YQY’s glitching came to mind.

Holy shit. SY owns the two of them more than he’d ever thought.

After the punishment, SY goes back home. He’s with Binghe, and LBH can tell there’s something troubling him.

“Binghe, there’s something this husband wants to do, and I need your help to do it.”

“Shizun, anything.”

“...But there’s a risk it might hurt you. There’s a risk it might ruin everything. It might be straight-forward, but it also might not be. It’s safer for all of us—but especially you, Binghe—if I just let things be.”

“But it’s not something that Shizun can just let be, is it? Otherwise Shizun wouldn’t have said anything. Binghe is honored to help. Anything to ease Shizun’s mind.”

“...I promised I wouldn’t let you come to harm again, and I meant that. Whatever happens, remember that I am your husband, this is my call, and you must do whatever you need to do to protect yourself, okay? Swear to me, Binghe.”

SQQ begins figuring out how to use Xin Mo to go fetch SJ from the other timeline. He figures that if Bingge could exist in this dimension without destroying the space-time continuum, the same ought to be true for SJ. Only trouble is, he can only go get SJ after SJ’s made the deals, because otherwise it’s a paradox, and he wouldn’t exist.

So SQQ brings home limbless, post-torture!SJ. That’s where the fic starts.

By all accounts, the deals are squared: SJ no longer has cultivation and SJ died in SY’s dimension, so SY successfully exists. SJ and SY can exist in the same space totally fine, and SJ begins healing.

(Currently, the fic is completely from SJ’s POV, and very much about coming to terms with being saved and what the hell is going on in this better world.)

The trouble is, SY doesn’t know what’s going to happen when SJ meets YQY again. SJ very thoroughly declines the offer to go see YQY because part of SJ still believes this whole thing is a trick, and if he goes to see YQY he’ll ruin his end of the bargain and YQY will die again. For SY’s part, he’s afraid of SJ going to see YQY too for similar but opposite reasons—if SJ going to see YQY ruins SJ’s end of the bargain, then wouldn’t that mean SY can no longer exist? Would SY just disappear from this universe?

So we get ragtag group therapy fun times. SJ thinks this is probably all an illusion Xin Mo is tricking him with, so treats everything with scorn but also existential apathy. This actually works to his benefit because he’s not clinging to things as hard, and it’s easier for him to admit, for example, that he was definitely in the wrong for abusing LBH, and yeah he was being a spiteful bitch when he did not need to be.

SY tries to keep LBH away from SJ mostly, because c’mon, he’s not about to make his darling husband face his childhood abuser. He does explain the situation to LBH though, in the same terms that Bingge had (mis)understood it lmfao—that the act of saving LQG’s life had prompted an entire 180 on his personality so he came out of the spirit caves a better man. LBH’s jealous as fuck of course, but damn if that doesn’t explain some things. Given the opportunity to see his old and new Shizun side-by-side, LBH takes it, and really gets a moment to see how horribly he’s been treated by SQQ.

So it actually prompts some therapy between SY and LBH too. LBH used to figure that getting pushed into the Abyss was squared by SQQ sacrificing himself to save him. But ofc it turned out SQQ came back and kept on, in his perspective, trying to get away from him. Trying to leave him behind. SQQ’s tried to treat his abandonment issues by going “okay sorry about that I’ll never leave you behind again” but he’s never really explained it.

SJ’s presence gives Binghe the ability to ask the question again and gives SY an answer: shame and cowardice. They’re able to put SJ’s mistreatment of Binghe right in front of them and SY-as-SQQ gets to explain how much it hurt to look back on that bit of their past, but also how much he feared LBH's retaliation. LBH is a little hurt, but also he remembers how he’d raped SQQ under Xin Mo’s control and, looking at what’s left of SJ now, he sees his own darkest possibilities. He really did destroy the man he loves now in another timeline. That helps him contextualize SY’s fears and why SY chose to push him off the cliff.

LQG crashlands into the middle of this whole party as is his wont. He gets a little fix-it too maybe. SY very staunchly repeats the reason for his personality swap—saving LQG in that cave made him a Better Person™. Meeting the original goods again, LQG is forced to believe it. Or like, it doesn’t really matter to him either way, but now he really does see pre-cave SQQ and post-cave SQQ as two completely different people.

SJ though, has to swallow this really weird pill. He remembers trying to save LQG inside the cave but failing, and then getting blamed for LQG’s death. If he’d succeeded, he and LQG would’ve become...this close?? A life debt between them would’ve changed his outlook on life so much???

Well whatever. Now that he’s put down all his old posturing, he more readily gives his reasons for why LQG gets on his nerves so much: the insufferable confidence (arrogant prick), the skills to back it up (privileged bastard), and a flawless cultivator family with all the money and the training and the pedigree. (Meanwhile SY’s like “oh shit that’s me too hahahahah awkward, good thing he still thinks i’m him so he doesn’t just murder me immediately.)

LQG’s a little weirded out too. SY-as-SQQ is his favorite person in the world, so it’s hard to get angry at SJ-as-SQQ since they’re “the same person.” He’s more willing to talk all this out with SJ and brings up all their old beef on his side too: high-handed snootiness coupled with underhanded dick moves, also the whole sleeping-with-prostitutes thing hurting Cang Qiong’s reputation. Ofc they’re snapping at each other this whole time. “There’s no reason for you to do all that!”

SY intervenes if needed. “Actually there is.” Considering the fact that SJ gets indicted for so many things that actually turn out to be not his fault, SY figures he’ll just get it out there. “Remember Qiu Haitang’s accusations against me? I grew up a slave in that household. I grew up believing it was kill or be killed—it doesn’t make sabotaging others right, but...that’s why the Spirit Caves made such an impression on me. I learned it wasn’t just kill or be killed, I can also save people. It opened my eyes to everything I already had, and everything I should be grateful for.”

This is for both LQG and SJ. And it works, to some degree. SJ knows he managed to claw to the top of privilege, but he still felt horribly insecure there. That’s because, he realizes, he never got the thing that would actually grant him security. It's not power or money or reputation—it’s Qi-ge. Holy hell he misses Qi-ge. In anger and betrayal, he’d pushed YQY continuously out of his life, but when faced with certain death the only regret he actually had was bringing Qi-ge down with him. YQY was meant to have survived, and in this world, he did.

So now, after all that, SJ really, really wants to go see his Qi-ge. It’s nice to have survived (and gotten part of his power back—at the very beginning, SY gives one of SQQ’s eyes to SJ as a bit of his golden core in order to save SJ’s life), but it’s so damn hard to live on in this world knowing YQY is only so far away, still very deeply attached to Xiao Jiu.

They try to Cyrano it at first. SY-as-SQQ goes to YQY with SJ’s voice in his ear, telling SY how to treat YQY as him. YQY is so fucking touched and hopeful, and SY is damn uncomfortable. He goes running back to SJ and says it’s not going to work—it’s not going to work because he’s no longer Qi-ge’s Xiao Jiu. He’s Luo Binghe’s husband, okay? He can’t go back to YQY as SJ.

SJ’s fucking furious at first (what kind of shitty variation of himself saves LQG’s life and then falls out of love with Qi-ge???? bitch?????) but what can he do? LQG tells them YQY’s on his way here and SJ hides for now. They still don’t know what will happen if SJ meets YQY, so SY continues to front as SJ for now.

But during this conversation, something changes. Maybe YQY says something, but SJ realizes he’s actually a little willing to take this chance. If Qi-ge does disappear—easy, he’d just kill himself right after. He’d already experienced Qi-ge’s death twice before, and at least this time, he can follow, knowing he’s at least reconciled with Qi-ge through SY.

And if he disappears on his own, then at least he knows there’s a world in which Qi-ge does not die horribly. That’s enough for him.

That, however, leaves the very last possibility—that SY will disappear. At this point both LQG and LBH have figured this out, and are very, very reluctant to let this be the scenario. They don’t see it as two people, they see it as their version of SQQ vs. YQY’s version of SQQ.

So there’s a little tension, but in the end, SY gets the final choice. As soon as he learns SJ is willing to go see YQY, he chooses that path. He simply owes qijiu too much to deny them the possibility of reconciliation. So despite knowing he might disappear from Binghe and LQG’s life, he makes it happen.

(They should get a very painful goodbye scene.)

SY goes out to explain things. “Zhangmen-shixiong may have noticed my change since my qi deviation and the spirit caves.” “I’m happy Xiao Jiu has a brighter outlook on life.” “Yes, but I think Qi-ge, of all people, might actually prefer how I was before, right?” “If Xiao Jiu’s happy, I’m happy.” “Yes, but Shen Jiu wants you. Is that alright?” “—of course. I want Xiao Jiu too—”

SJ comes out. Everyone holds their breath.

Scene cut.

It’s said that Cang Qiong’s Sect Leader Yue Qingyuan disappeared suddenly one afternoon...

But jk, YQY just ran away with SJ, they’re recuperating in the mountains and everybody’s fine and it’s a happy ending.

#...nice #that's the whole fic planned then #sv fix-it

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missfangirll · 3 years

Text

Driving me crazy

Fandom: Guardian Rating: General Relationship: Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei, Da Qing/Ye Zun, Shen Wei & Ye Zun Tags: Fluff, Crack, Prompt: Learning to drive Words: 2585 Summary: Shen Wei learns to drive.

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@tehfanglyfish requested this ages ago, and I am truly sorry it took so long... It somehow refused to take the shape I wanted it to, and even now it is 70% crack. 😅 Ye Zun almost hijacked the whole thing and made it about him, so there is a lot of brotherly interaction 😅 Anyway, have some fluff/crack 😁😁

- - - - -

Of all the things that would bring down Shen Wei’s carefully crafted persona, it had to be alcohol, of course. Not even his own intake, but rather the fact that his boyfriend, his brother, and his boyfriend had had too much of it the night before and were now truly incapable of doing anything besides being whiny and mopey, slouching at their large breakfast table in shared misery.

Still, none of this would have been a problem, if not for Ye Zun’s new-found, somewhat misguided sense of responsibility. His brother had used the beginning of the new term to throw himself into some university courses – drama, of all things –, and had morphed into, rather late for Shen Wei’s taste, but who was he to complain, a model student with perfect attendance and spotless grades.

So now, on a late Friday morning, Zhao Yunlan had - in a bout of altruism and concern for his team which had absolutely nothing to do with his pounding headache - given the whole SID the day off, and abandoned him and Ye Zun at the table, leaving Shen Wei with the feeling of being the only adult in the house. Zhao Yunlan had gone back to bed without any coherent input, while Da Qing had refused to change into human form in the first place, stating that hangovers were best dealt with while having a smaller head.

Consequently, it had been only him and his slightly dishevelled brother left at the table, Ye Zun with his face in his hands, his hair in a messy ponytail, wrinkly shirt, ripped jeans, and with two different socks. Shen Wei found this a tiny bit endearing, but would rather bite off his own tongue than say it out loud.

Ye Zun groaned softly and squinted at him through his fingers. “We need to get going,” he mumbled, “I have classes in an hour and your office hours start soon, too.”

Shen Wei raised an eyebrow. With a portal, it would take them less than five minutes to get to their respective buildings, and he opened his mouth to remind his brother of that, when the other raised his head. “Did you forget that today is that ominous Spring Cleaning Day they have been talking about? ‘Open doors and open minds’ or some bullshit they called it. There won’t be an unoccupied room in the whole university, so as long as you and your--,” he visibly went through a whole lot of probably rather insulting terms, before he settled on “--lover don’t have any intimate knowledge about a deserted broom closet, we’ll have to drive.”

Shen Wei felt his ears turn red and stubbornly avoided the other’s smirk. He had indeed forgotten, and now it was way too late to take the bus and arrive in time.

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. “We could portal somewhere close,” he tried, but Ye Zun shook his head. “It’s not a big deal, really,” he said. “My car is here, we don’t even have to take that ridiculous jeep. Just watch out for the gearshift, it tends to jam when it’s cold.”

Shen Wei stared at him, eyes wide in shock. “What do you mean, I need to watch out? Aren’t you driving?”

Ye Zun massaged the bridge of his nose, then pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I don’t think I can see clearly enough to get through traffic,” he said, “but you’ll be fine. I'll just sit there and tell you where to go.”

Shen Wei felt his breath quicken, not able to meet his brother’s gaze. Panicked, he went through a few hopefully believable excuses why he under no circumstances could drive right now, when he felt Ye Zun’s eyes on him. His brother had always been very perceptive, and even with a spectacular hangover noticed Shen Wei’s strange behaviour. Raising an eyebrow he stated, “You are stalling.” Shen Wei winced while his brother continued matter-of-factly, but with a very audible smirk in his voice, “You don’t want to drive my car and are trying to find excuses, and now I am very curious as to why that is.”

Shen Wei winced and tried to deflect. “I don’t--,” he started, but his brother was not deterred. Sitting up straighter, he fixed Shen Wei with a scrutinizing stare that made him want to fidget. Avoiding his eyes was apparently the wrong thing to do, since his brother cackled and reached over to flick his forehead. Before Shen Wei could bristle indignantly, Ye Zun pointed out, “Gege, I know you better than anyone, and that face you’re making right now tells me that you can’t or won’t do something, but are too stubborn to say it and try to find polite excuses.” Grinning widely, he continued, “And I know for a fact that you like my car more than that absurd red monster, so there are not many reasons why you would refuse to drive me, since I know you have a driver’s license. I, umm, might have...” He broke off, clearing his throat, his stare intensifying. “Anyway, that leaves only one explanation. You can’t drive, for whatever reason.”

Shen Wei, who had been sinking down further into his chair during this reasoning, didn’t look up as he said weakly, “You should work for the SID, you’re a capable investigator.”

“But,” his brother now sounded confused, “why do you have a driver’s license when you can’t drive?”

Shen Wei shifted uncomfortably. “When I first began teaching here, Dixing assumed it was a cover for being the Envoy and issued me some documents… I don’t think that was very legal to begin with.” He gave his brother a pained grimace. ”They probably didn’t even know what most of them were for, and I didn’t tell them.” Inhaling deeply, he finished his explanation. “That is why I do have a license, but I have never driven a car in my life. I’m afraid you will need to take care of that if we want to get to work in time.”

- - - - -

After Ye Zun had overcome his laughing fit, he agreed to drive them himself, despite the state he was in. It took them a while to get to the university, Ye Zun cursing and muttering under his breath, but they managed in time. When they parted in the parking lot, Shen Wei noticed a dangerous sparkle in his brother’s eyes as he regarded him for a second. It made him shiver slightly, but he didn’t comment, resolutely turning towards his office building.

He didn’t wait for Ye Zun in the late afternoon, quite familiar with the other’s schedule he knew that he had a rehearsal to attend and wouldn’t be home until dinner. Thus, he quietly locked his office door and portalled home, after making sure nobody saw him.

At home, he didn’t have time to think about the day’s unfortunate events, since Da Qing loudly requested tuna for dinner, while Zhao Yunlan equally loudly demanded attention. Sighing inwardly, he patted both of them on the head on his way to the kitchen, once more feeling like a babysitter for a group of unruly toddlers. The missing toddler turned up an hour later, just when the rice cooker made a final noise. Shen Wei purposefully filled all four bowls with vegetables, ignoring the various protests, and ushered his flock to the table. When all of them were seated, immersed in their dinner, he allowed himself to relax a little. Having all of them here, feeding them, taking care of them, still came as a surprise on some days, and he was infinitely grateful for it every day.

He felt slightly less grateful, though, when Ye Zun pushed his bowl aside and fixed him with a pointed look, a wide smirk on his face.

“Gege,” he began and, sensing that the situation would soon turn interesting, the other two slowly lowered their bowls as well, looking expectantly between Shen Wei and his brother.

“Yes,” the former replied, feeling uneasy under the other’s gaze.

“Gege,” Ye Zun repeated, drawing out the syllables, “I thought about your problem.”

Shen Wei winced, but stayed silent. Zhao Yunlan perked up. “Problem?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Biting his lip, Shen Wei tried to deny everything, when Da Qing piped up, “The fact that he can’t drive a car, despite having a license, I suppose.”

Shen Wei’s head whipped around. “How….?” he began, but Da Qing just shrugged. Of course Ye Zun had told him.

Zhao Yunlan cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know, that driver’s license is fake, I assume they gave it to you as a cover. And you’re so lost when it comes to any kind of technology, cars are surely not the one thing you managed.”

Shen Wei kept staring, not able to reply. His insensitive boyfriend chuckled. “I’m a police officer, you moron, what did you think? That thing is such a bad fake, I’m surprised Ye Zun could use it all this time without getting busted.” Ye Zun choked on his tea. Now both brothers stared incredulously at Zhao Yunlan, who just snorted and took a sip of his own tea. “I figured you’d tell me one day, or maybe ask to drive the jeep so I could show you, but you never did, and I never…” He trailed off, then inhaled deeply. “Well, anyway, would you want to learn?”

Shen Wei was still staring at him, unseeing.

“Would you want to learn?” Kunlun smiles at him, all teeth and sunshine. “You would want to teach me how to ride a horse?”, he asks, mirth in his voice. “That poor beast.” He can’t look away from that smile. “I think..,” he starts and has to clear his throat, “I think you’d be good at it.”

- - - - -

Shen Wei managed to enforce two conditions before he agreed to Zhao Yunlan’s offer: Only one person would teach him, and he wouldn’t drive the jeep. Which only left Ye Zun’s car, since he also vehemently refused to learn how to drive Zhao Yunlan’s beloved bike.

I haven’t thought this through, he thought, as he adjusted the driver’s seat and fiddled with the mirror. Ye Zun had adapted to his new surroundings the same way he did everything: by inhaling it, just not as literal as he used to. He always bought the newest gadgets, had the trendiest clothes and used all the apps Shen Wei couldn’t even guess the use of. The only exception to that lifestyle was his car. Shen Wei wasn’t sure how he had gotten it or why, but that he was very fond of it, and endured Zhao Yunlan’s regular teasing with the grandeur of a wounded martyr. The car was tiny, even Shen Wei understood that, didn’t have a lot of extras, and most curiously, had a foreign flag painted on the roof. Da Qing didn’t have any opinions about cars, he was only interested in the compartments that could potentially hold snacks, and Shen Wei didn’t care as long as it got him to work and back safely.

But now that he sat behind the steering wheel, he couldn’t help but think that using the jeep might have been a better idea. It was higher off the ground, he mused, and also provided a lot of help to the driver, as Zhao Yunlan had shown him more than once. In Ye Zun’s tiny vehicle he suddenly felt very vulnerable.

Taking a deep breath, he shook himself out of his spiraling thoughts. This was, after all, something that could be learned, and he had yet to find something he wasn’t able to master. Determined, he reached for the key, when Zhao Yunlan next to him blurted, “Stop!” Startled, he let his hand sink, looking warily at the other. Zhao Yunlan fixated him. “Where are your feet?”

“Err,” Shen Wei replied wisely, resisting the impulse to look down. “At the end of my legs, I suppose?”

Zhao Yunlan gave him an unimpressed glare. “Very funny. When driving a car with gearshift, you have to put your left foot on the clutch.” Seeing the other’s forlorn look, he amended. “The pedal on the left. Left is clutch, middle is brake, right is gas.” Shen Wei felt even more confused. “How am I supposed to step on three pedals with two feet?” His boyfriend laughed at him. “You’re not. Don’t think of using brake and gas at the same time, that’ll kill the engine. You need to keep your left foot on the left pedal, then alternate the right between the two. Try it,” he nodded encouragingly. With a deep breath, Shen Wei stepped firmly on the left pedal while turning the key. The engine started and he smiled somewhat relieved. “Alright,” Zhao Yunlan commanded, “now slowly let the clutch go and step on the gas.” Shen Wei did, and with an offended howl, the engine died. He looked uncertainly at the other. “Yeah, that can happen,” Zhao Yunlan sounded unperturbed. “Try again.”

It took a few tries, but in the end Shen Wei managed to move the car forward a bit. (Only to get excited and accelerate too much, forcing Zhao Yunlan to pull the handbrake, but that didn’t dampen his spirits much.) With a slight grin, he turned. “Alright, what is next?”

Zhao Yunlan gave him a look. “Well, we could keep practising here in the parking lot,” he said slowly, “or we could try the road. There's not that much traffic at this hour,” he added, “you should be fine.”

“It’s a calm horse, you should be fine.” “When I fall off, will you take care of me, Hei Pao Shi?” That grin again, Shen Wei thinks. He has no defenses against that grin. He just nods.

In the end, the road really wasn’t that crowded. Which made it easier for the police unit to notice a tiny foreign car whose driver was obviously drunk, oscillating in the lane, speeding up at random intervals. It took all of Zhao Yunlan’s silken persuasion skill, his SID badge and Shen Wei looking utterly helpless behind his glasses to convince the two officers to let them go, but when they had unsteadily turned a corner and Shen Wei had once more throttled the poor engine, Zhao Yunlan couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, clutching his middle as he dissolved in giggles. Shen Wei pouted for a bit, but then joined in.

After he had found his breathing again, Zhao Yunlan wheezed, “I should have told them what happens when you drink.” Wiping his eyes he added, a fond note to the teasing tone, “You are such a lightweight.”

Shen Wei smiled back. “I should have told them that all this started because you drank too much. That would have confused them even more, I think.”

Zhao Yunlan snorted, then added, reaching over to put his hand over Shen Wei’s, “Do you remember how you tried to teach me how to ride a horse?” Shen Wei made a soft noise, he was very fond of that particular memory. “I fell off, and really hoped that I would fall into a hole in the ground, but then you picked me up and said you’d take care of me…” He trailed off and regarded the other with a warm smile, which Shen Wei returned. “I promised, did I not?” “You did, and you have,” Zhao Yunlan agreed, leaning in for a kiss.

#镇魂 guardian #guardian #zhen hun #zhao yunlan #shen wei #weilan #otp: we have always been friends #da qing #ye zun #dazun #my writing #fanfic #guardian fanfic

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reyescarlos · 3 years

Note

94. “I could think of worse ways to die.” Or 97.“How do you always manage to look so perfect?” For tarlos if that works for you my love 🥰

it’s definitely 3 in the morning for you so lmao i hope you enjoy this when you wake up!

#94 “I could think of worse ways to die.”

Two and a half months of uncertainty, of TK debating whether or not his banter with Carlos is merely cordial or flirtatious. Having a crush—especially at this magnitude— is the last thing TK had been expecting but he failed to imagine how anyone could be immune to Carlos Reyes.

More than just his looks, of which that man certainly wasn’t lacking, TK had been instantly drawn to Carlos’ personality, his dry sense of humor that never failed to bring out a laugh from TK any time they were together. Out on calls Carlos’ assuredness was captivating. Having a front row seat to the man in action, confident and brilliant, has made TK fall that much harder.

He’s spent weeks taking notice of all these little facets about Carlos, storing it all away. It’s been a privilege getting to know him, to extend their working relationship to a personal one. But TK wishes to take it one step further and make it romantic.

Carlos seems to be in his thoughts constantly, to the point that TK feels as if he’s always mere moments away from losing his mind with the weight of his thoughts continuously pressing on him. What he wants is to know where Carlos stands definitively, to not have to guess and go in circles wondering if his wishful thinking is making him more optimistic than he should be that this could work.

At a local coffee shop together now, Carlos sits across from him, head angled toward the window as he watches people pass by. It’s such a mundane thing but with Carlos, it feels more like entertainment for TK. There’s so much to take in from the tendons in Carlos’ neck to the small smile that comes across his face when two little kids skip by excitedly.

As Carlos watches the world, TK watches him and he can admit, as he always does to himself, that he likes all that he sees. There’s such kindness and warmth in Carlos’ slightly distracted gaze. TK wants, desperately so, for Carlos to look at him like that.

Sometimes he can convince himself that Carlos senses a spark between them too, that he isn’t the only one between the pair of them that feels this pull.

“You’re staring,” Carlos says suddenly, turning to look at TK. “You do that from time to time and I always wonder what you’re thinking.”

TK’s brows bunch together, his heartbeat picking up.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Carlos sighs softly and sits with his back firmly against the chair. His gaze is searching as if he’s trying to find something, maybe the right words or something in his expression, TK’s not entirely sure. Either way, his stomach is already churning with this surprising turn in conversation.

“Do you like me?” Carlos asks outright.

Everything inside TK seizes. Carlos’ eyes betray nothing of what he’s thinking, of what TK’s response one way or another would mean to him personally.

TK laughs awkwardly, so caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. This is the last thing he’d been expecting Carlos to say and coming up with a coherent thought, let alone a coherent reply is impossible.

“I...I mean, I,” he stammers, face burning.

Carlos remains unmoving and somehow it makes this whole ordeal all the more mortifying.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“What is happening right now? Oh God.”

“It’s okay, TK,” Carlos says but TK has a very hard time believing that. There is nothing okay or normal about his crush finding him out and looking for answers.

He fiddles with his neglected mug, the remnants of his coffee long since cold thanks to his recreational viewing. He taps a finger against the rim of the cup, shaking his head.

His heart won’t stop racing. Even without saying the words, the truth is out there and it’s enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

“Cause of death: complete and total embarrassment,” TK groans, burying his face on his hand.

Across from him, Carlos laughs. “I could think of worse ways to die so I’m pretty sure you’ll survive this. And besides, you may be embarrassed but I’m flattered.”

TK spreads his fingers, peeking out between them to look at the man before dropping his hand.

“Okay, I can work with that. Flattered is promising.”

“Flattered is also another way of saying that I’m definitely interested. While you’ve been attempting to stealthily check me out these last few weeks,” the man teases, “I’ve been doing the same with you.”

TK’s eyes widen as he finds himself incapable of hiding his shock. Carlos eyes him quizzically.

“That surprises you? I thought it’s been obvious this whole time.”

“It only would’ve been clear if you hung a neon sign above your head. You’re a little too good at disguising your feelings.”

Carlos shifts in his seat, his hands clasping on the tabletop before him as he stares directly into TK’s eyes. The look is intense and piercing, leaving no other alternative than for TK to hold his breath and stare back.

“Allow me to state it plainly then: TK, I’ve liked you since the day I met you. The only reason I didn’t say anything is because I wanted to be sure you were serious about this, that this isn’t a fleeting crush. I don’t want something casual with you, TK. That’s not really my speed and I like you too much to pretend otherwise.”

TK blinks twice slowly as if coming out of a haze. Across from him, Carlos’ face is pensive, a tinge of uncertainty in his eyes.

“And...I’m coming on too strong?” the man wonders aloud.

TK is quick to shake his head.

“No. God, no. I’m just having a hard time believing we’re actually having a conversation and you’re saying all the words I’ve been dying to hear.”

TK can feel his face flush but his candidness is rewarded with a relieved smile from Carlos. It’s all the encouragement he needs to keep talking, to drive the point home even further.

“I don’t want to be casual with you either. All I want is you.”

It’s such a heavy statement to make on a Saturday morning in a public space but TK couldn’t care less about the people around them and what they may be listening in on. His sole focus is the man across from him and the smile that breaks across his face like a sunrise.

Carlos unfurls his hand, stretching one across the table and latching on to TK’s. It’s a gentle touch but it sets every nerve ending in his body aflame.

TK takes it a step further, turning his hand palm up and lacing their fingers. He stares down at their hands for a moment, admiring the way they fit perfectly with one another. Carlos’ thumb brushes against his skin gently, pulling TK’s gaze upward and to the man’s face once more. The sunlight pouring through the shop’s window makes Carlos glow, making this already warm man all the more welcoming.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Carlos asks.

TK’s breath catches in his throat, surprised yet delighted that Carlos is keen on making plans so soon.

“Yeah, I am. What did you have in mind?”

Carlos chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s a surprise. Do you trust me to make it a good one?”

“I’d trust you with my life, Carlos. I’m sure you can handle planning a date just fine.”

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #captainstennerstar #kimmy writes #yay back to my remaining prompts

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