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#both hands and says: mh.. actually i think the jaw clench was more of a 'go fuck yourself' than a 'go to hell'
lineffability · 8 months
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Crowley sat down on the bed, crossing his legs as he watched the angel unpack two scones. Almost like old times, except he was looking at them sort of unsatisfied.
Indeed, Aziraphale exhaled and muttered, “No butter. No marmalade… Should’ve…” He looked up, glanced at Crowley. Expectant. Oh, no way.
“You’ve got enough miracle power to cover the whole world in marmalade, Aziraphale.”
“Not using any. Just to be safe,” he responded, voice dropping on the last word. Safe. Nothing about this was safe. The irony of it covered them like melting butter on a scone, sticking uncomfortably to their skin. 
“Sucks.” Crowley did not lift a finger. Aziraphale put the scone back on the paper bag. Pushed it away. 
“Crowley. I need to ask you something.” His tone had changed, abruptly. 
“Mh?” Crowley’s heart slipped somewhere to the proximity of his appendix. 
“Why did you not tell me?”
“You’ll need to be a little more specific. I think I’ve told you more than I should have, actually.”
“Not– not that. Why didn’t you tell me you knew? About Armageddon? This one, I mean. The Second Coming.”
“More like Second Going.” Crowley grunted in an unsuccessful effort to both deflect and defuse the question. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, and it was not in amusement. “Uh. I guess I… you didn’t need to know about it, really.”
“Of course I did! Crowley, you should have told me about it. We could’ve–”
“Oh, come on. It wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do.”
“Oh, right, you always know, don’t you. You always know what’s best and what to say and how to save the day and how to swoop in to– how to save me. Have you considered I don’t need saving?!”
“Right. Sorry for being concerned for your safety, I didn’t know it was such a bother.”
Aziraphale deflated, his anger draining out of him like out of a sad little balloon that had been pricked. By a demonic needle. The tears resurfaced in his eyes, and Crowley looked at his hands, jaw clenched. 
“It’s not. It’s not a bother. Crowley, I love being saved b– I  mean– you’ve saved me– in so many ways. And I… always wanted… Crowley, you’ve never let me protect you. And you don’t get to decide when I need protecting. If you told me there was danger I could protect us too. We could have protected each other.”
Crowley swallowed. He looked back up, making out Aziraphale’s silhouette. The world had become a little blurry, for some reason. Aziraphale was right. He was right, but Crowley really didn’t want him to be. He couldn’t say it. 
“Well, you shouldn’t have forgiven me,” he said instead, barely audible, returning the reproach with his own. “Don’t need that.”
“You’re right,” Aziraphale said. Of course the angel was able to say the words, to admit it. Damn angelic state of being and all. Enlightened. “I shouldn't have said it because I didn’t mean it.”
Crowley looked back at him, eyes wide. 
“I did not forgive you at all. I’m still not sure I have.” A shaft of light was illuminating Aziraphale’s light hair, and Crowley studied it intently, trying to keep his world from blurring further. He could not start crying. “I kept thinking about it. About why I said it– again. Twice. And I think it was to absolve myself. It was cruel, and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t forgive you,” Crowley tried to say, but it came out in a broken whisper.
“Good. I don’t want to be forgiven.” 
“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”
“No,” Aziraphale agreed. 
“Know what else doesn’t feel good?” Crowley asked before he could think better of it, and Aziraphale blanched, knowing exactly. 
“Crowley,” he said, but it sounded like don’t. 
[read the whole chapter on ao3]
[read from the beginning]
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evakant · 3 years
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personally I love all the lan sizhui & lan jingyi acting as translators for lan wangji moments/headcanons/fics but also the idea of either of them going “what hanguang-jun is trying to say—” and jiang cheng interrupting with “kids, I have been translating lan wangji’s face since before you first picked up your swords. thank you for trying to make this conversation family friendly but we both know hanguang-jun’s eyebrow twitch just called me a cunt and his jaw clench told me to go to hell”
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folklorelise · 3 years
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Civilian girlfriend
MASTERLIST
Jean Kirstein – you visit him during his training days and after
—————
You grew up next to Jean’s house in Trost District. Since your mother was a baker, you would always eat leftovers and sometimes, your mother would call Jean’s family to join you for dinner. Jean was a shy and nice kid – you instantly connected with each other.
One stormy night, Jean took his pillow and run to your house. He opened your door and whisper your name multiple times before you woke up.
“What’s wrong?” you asked Jean worried. “What are you doing here so late?”
“I– I thought you would be scared… of the thunder so I came to protect you!”
“Oh.” you paused. “But I’m not.”
“Oh.” Jean trembled.
“Are you scared?” you asked cautiously.
“No! I’ll go, sorry.” Jean turned around but you caught his hand before he could move.
“You can stay with me if you’re scared, it’s ok.” You reassured him with a shy smile.
You both went to bed – it was a small bed, but you were both kids, so it was not a problem. In the morning, Jean’s mother was worried sick, but your mother quickly reassured her that her son was with you, both sleeping. From then on Jean would always come to you during thunderstorm. As he grew older, he stopped being afraid of it, but still came to you. Jean started to like you more than just as a friend very early on, but he was too shy to do anything about it.
When he told you that he was joining the training corps, you were devastated.
“We won’t be able to see other anymore…” you teared up.
“Y/N, of course we will. You’ll see, when I finally become a MP, I’ll bring you with me in Wall Sina and then we could–” Jean stopped abruptly.
“We could what?”
Jean stared at you hesitantly and then gave you a quick kiss on the lips. When he backed up, he looked terrified and he was all red. Your cheeks were hot too – it was your first kiss.
“Then we could get married maybe and live together.” Jean mumbled. “Because I like you… a lot.”
“You do?” you asked happily.
“Yes. What about you?”
“I like you too.”
“Good.”
Jean and you just smiled at each other, holding hands.
“In three years, we’ll be together again and from then on, it will be forever.”
Jean kissed you one last time before leaving. Jean and you sent each other letters from time to time, but he was busy. You were receiving fewer and fewer letters from him but then suddenly, in his letter, he told you about a visiting day and asked you to come. You took a day off – you were working with your mother – and your mother said yes. The morning before leaving, you baked a lot of pastries and breads for Jean. You dressed up nicely and went out. The training corps headquarters had their doors opened and lots of families were already there. You had your basket of food in your hand and walked in. You quickly found Jean at the entrance and walked up to him smiling.
“H-” but before you could greet him and his friends, Jean gave you a tight hug.
“I missed you so much.” Jean whispered.
“Is that food?” a girl asked excited.
“Stop Sasha! You don’t even know her!” Another boy said.
“This is Sasha and Connie.” Jean told you. “And this is Marco.”
“Hello.” you said awkwardly, no knowing what else to say.
“Are you horse face’s girlfriend?” asked a boy with two other people.
“What, you’re jealous?” Jean shouted back.
“No, just wondering who could veer be stupid enough to date you!” Eren, screamed back.
“You take that back you deep sh!t.” Jean shouted at him which surprised you. When Jean saw your expression, he quickly took you to another place, not wanting any other problems with Eren while you were here.
“What are these?” Jean pointed at the basket.
“Food I made for you.”
You ate together in his dorm – no one was there, everyone was with their families and friends anyway. You ate and caught up with what happened the last few months.
“How is it going? The training I mean.”
“It’s good – I’m good. I can definitely get in the top ten.”
“That’s great!” you cheered up.
“Yeah.” Jean said staring at you for a long minute before kissing you.
The kiss was awkward and cute. Neither of you knew where to put your hands but it was still a good kiss.
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A good kiss that was interrupted by Marco entering the room.
“Oh no! I’m sorry!” Marco shouted embarrassed.
Jean and you stoop up quickly and you were both embarrassed too. Your cheeks were hot, and you looked at everywhere except at Marco or Jean.
“I’m so sorry!” Marco apologised again. “I– I didn’t know!”
“It’s fine. We– let’s just join the others!” you said.
You took your basket full of food and ate with Jean, Marco, Connie, and Sasha. You all laughed together, and they told you embarrassing stories about Jean and you told them about baby Jean. A few hours later, Marco wanted to present Jean to his parents – he wanted to reassure them that their boy was not alone. When Jean left, two other boys arrived at your table – Reiner and Bertolt.
“You must be Jean’s girlfriend, right?” Reiner asked you.
“Mh… I guess I am yeah.” you answered joyfully.
“It’s weird.” Reiner continued.
“What is?”
“I always thought he was into Mikasa. Always complimenting her or something.”
“Wha – who?” you asked him confused.
“Reiner!” Bertolt yelled.
“Who’s Mikasa?” you asked but none of them answered. When Jean came back with Marco you asked him who she was.
“Why?” Jean asked.
“Just tell me.”
“It’s her.” Marco said pointing at the girl you saw earlier. “Why?” he asked you when he saw you were clenching your jaw. She is pretty.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Jean asked worried, resting his hand on your shoulder.
“Yeah… it’s late, I think it’s time for me to go home.” you stood up.
“Y/N what’s wrong?” Jean hesitated, “You don’t have to go until tonight and it’s not even–”
You were already walking away rapidly. Jean looked at his friends confused, waiting for someone to explain to him what just happened.
“Reiner told him you were into Mikasa.” Sasha explained.
“What!” Jean yelled at Reiner. “What is wrong with you, you sick son of a b–!” he screamed taking Reiner by the collar.
Marco and Bertolt had to restraint Jean – no one ever saw Jean that mad.
“Jean, stop!” Marco tried to calm his friend down. “Go after Y/N instead of wasting your time here.”
Jean run after you as quick as he could, and luckily for him, you were just at the entrance.
“Y/N!” Jean screamed catching up to you. “It’s not what you think! I do not like Mikasa. Plus, why would you believe a stranger?”
“Because it made sense to me.” you stammered. “You stopped writing to me as much as you used to and maybe that was because you didn’t want to talk to me anymore… because there was someone else.”
“Hey don’t cry.” Jean said holding your face in his hands. “There’s only you. You are the only one I want to talk to; you are the only one I want to see, and you are the only want I want to wake up to in the future. I know we’re still young, but I like you a lot.”
“I like you too.” you sobbed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you talk first.”
Jean hugged you close for a very long time. Once Jean graduated you were to celebrate with him, unfortunately it was not a happy one – Marco, Jean’s closest friend, died.
“I decided to join the survey corps.” Jean told you that night.
“Oh… okay. Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It is, but that’s what I want.”
“I just… I don’t want to lose you when you’re out there.” you said resting your head on his shoulder.
“You won’t. I promise.”
Once the cadets were settled in the survey corps, the commander organised a visiting day for them and the other members. You and Jean’s mother went together to visit him. Jean was with his group of friends. You went over where they were with Jean’s mother and she greeted them.
“Hey,” Reiner said to you, “I’m sorry about last time we saw each other, I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine, it’s all good now.” you affirmed looking at Jean. “Jeanie and I are good.”
“Jeanie huh.” Connie teased him, “I’m going to call him that from now on.” he laughed.
The whole day was spent talking to each other, getting to know all his friends. You also met Armin, Eren and Mikasa – they were all very nice. At night, Jean excused himself and took you with him.
“Where are we going?” you asked him.
“Trust me.”
Jean brought you outside and met with a Garrison soldier and exchange a few words with him before putting on his gear. He reached out his hand for you to take it, but you waited for an explanation.
“I trust you a lot Jean Kirstein but what did you plan?”
“Just come on, please.”
You took his hand and he just warned you to hold tight. He used his gear to take you on top of the wall. You were holding him so tight you could have strangled him.
“Oh, what are you doing! Don’t you dare drop me!”
“I won’t.” Jean reassured you. “You can let go now; we are here.”
“Oh, this is high. This is really high from the ground.” you rumbled. “Is it even legal to go there?”
“I asked permission, don’t worry. The commander is a nice person.”
“Why are we here?”
“I prepared dinner for us.” Jean showed you a basket full of food with a sheet on the ground. “We never actually had a proper date so I thought this would be the perfect occasion.”
“You did this for me?” you smiled.
“I’d do anything to see that beautiful smile of yours.” Jean said with a smirk that made your cheeks hot.
“You’re the best, have I ever told you that?”
“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Jean whispered.
“No.” you gasped. “I– but I love you too.” you said before he kissed you.
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solaneceae · 3 years
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for @inspiredrawaw because their ocs live in my brain rent-free
emo deer and shy dragon boi have a heccin snuggle. thats it, thats the tweet.
----------------------------------------
Waking up was a... difficult process. Slow, sluggish and almost sticky, like being pulled out of a particularly deep quagmire. Darkness was clinging to his body and mind, keeping his eyelids stubbornly closed, a sensation of numbness and weightlessness planting the seeds of doubts. Was this real? Was he dreaming?
Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue… except he couldn’t remember falling asleep. Nor could he remember… much of anything, really.
He was stuck in this state of hazy confusion for what felt like hours, with no sensory hint as to where he was, head and ears filled with cotton, too stiff and tired to move an inch or open his eyes. He wondered, however briefly, if this was what death was. Maybe he’d fallen off the boat and drowned. Maybe a monster got him, and he just couldn’t remember it.
Mh. If that was truly the After, then it was a tad underwhelming, wasn’t it.
“...’en? Drakken? Are you with me?”
Recognition sparked in his slowly waking mind, followed by fondness. That voice. Omen’s voice. That formal inflexion, that little scratchiness Drakken had come to love. He could now feel a pressure on his upper back and shoulders, his arms, his chest… like he was being held.
Was his partner taking him through the gates themselves? In a way, the prospect was reassuring. The young dragon wouldn’t have it any other way.
But then he thought of Amber, and how devastated she’d be. Oh Gods, what had he done? Curse the Morrígan! Them, and all of this starfallen, cussing pile of moonrocks!
“Wake up you sod, you’re not dead just yet.”
...Oh.
That made more sense in retrospect. It took effort, but opening his eyes confirmed that he was, indeed, very much alive, and not being carried off to the After following an untimely demise. Merely laying down on his cot inside the boat, his back supported by what seemed to be his favorite deer, swaddled in a thick fleece blanket with a wool beanie on his head. And something was breathing against his neck.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his jaw felt so stiff, his tongue swollen and hard to move… “Mmm’n?”
“Shh. Don’t move yet. You fell asleep outside.”
He had? Oh, cuss. Drakken knew he didn’t do well in the cold at all, but it had been pleasantly warm today and he hadn’t expected the temperature to drop so much once night fell. He’d just been so fascinated with the blinking stars, trying to find his favorite constellations… he hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten until it was too late, it seemed.
Omen shifted, reaching for one of his frigid hands. “Can you move your fingers? Here, try to squeeze my hand.”
The dragon complied, wincing as his digits twitched and flared up with a dull, but pulsing pain. “H’rrts,” he managed to slur out, loosely grasping Omen’s warm, furry paw for a short moment before letting go. Something was changing- he actually felt the cold now, his body breaking into little shudders and spasms, his teeth starting to chatter. Wasn’t he supposed to be warming up? There was something radiating warmth against his chest… a hot water bottle?
“C-Cold,” the dragon slurred, now full-on trembling. He heard Omen hum, felt their hands rub up and down his arms through the blanket, their nose press against his jugular. “It’s alright, sunflower. Your body’s just starting to work properly again,” they assured him. “It’s a good sign.”
Was it? Drakken didn’t know, as mustering complex thoughts was a little difficult at the moment. He tried to move his arms to lay his hands on the hot bottle, but Omen quickly stopped him. “No, Drace, love- don’t, please. Your hands will just hurt more if you do that, and it’ll send cold blood right to your heart. Let them warm up on their own.”
Drakken let out a quiet croak of complaint, but quickly gave up, too drained to fight it. Mrf.
Well, at least his chest and back felt warmer. Even Omen’s nose felt warm, and that was weird, because Omen’s nose always felt cool to him, and he knew this because the deer loved to sneakily press it in the crook of his neck to make him squeal and squirm, and he’d flush and mumble complains while the deer smirked at him, because they both knew he didn’t actually want them to stop.
Mmh. Omen was so mischievous. And their coat was always so soft, and warm like a baby chick, chick-chickadee. Drakken liked to press his nose to theirs, and laugh when they took an offended expression whenever he went in for a playful boop. They were so proud all the time. I come from a prestigious family of death omens! they’d say. Regal. So pretty.
Ah, he’d lost his train of thought. And Omen was looking at him weird. “You need to warm up more,” they said, gently maneuvering him to lay him down on his cot, adjusting the blanket and water bottle. Drakken complained with a quiet whine, which the deer stifled with a little hush. They’d make him tea, they said. They’d be back real soon, they promised.
Drakken watched his partner smile fondly at him, then walk out of the room, their hooves clicking on the wooden floor. Drakken sniffled, shivering in his blanket, numb tail twitching as it slowly wrapped itself around his waist in an attempt at self-soothing. Please don’t be long...
***
The fallow deer placed their hands against the table, taking a few deep breaths to calm down as the sound of boiling water filled the tiny kitchen.
They’d tried so hard to keep themselves from visibly panicking, when all they wanted to do was to scream and cry in the crook of his boyfriend’s scaly neck, and tell him how scared they’d been, how their blood had run cold when they’d found him, silent and still on the cold wood of the deck, his chest barely moving and lips so blue and no no nonono can’t lose him not him not him-
Hissssssssss
Their spiraling thoughts were drowned out by the distinct sound of the kettle whistling, snapping them out of it. They swore bitterly, rubbing their head and taking the kettle out of the fire- they couldn’t fall apart like this. They had to take care of Drakken first and foremost, make him feel safe. They weren’t the one being hurt here. Being outwardly worried would only make it worse.
They focused on stuffing Drakken’s preferred blend -black tea, ginger, clove, cinnamon- in a tea ball, pouring the hot water in a mug and leaving room for cold water. Infuse, get the honey, cool it down, too hot will hurt him, where’s the spoon, have to hurry...
***
“Here, I’m going to help you sit up, hang on. Up we go, c’mon… There, you’re doing great, good job love. Let me- no no, Drakken, keep your hands inside the blanket, alright? Let me give it to you. Your hands will hurt again if you try to hold it.”
Drakken gave Omen an affronted look -which made them smile a little bit- but complied. Now that the dragon was upright, Omen proceeded to hold his head up, gently pushing the mug to his lips and tilting it, letting him take a few tiny, cautious gulps.
He looked better- the frost had completely left his scales, and even though he was shivering still, he no longer seemed incoherent. He choked a little on the last gulp, and Omen gently rubbed his back until his coughing fit had subsided and he laid bonelessly against their side, but his breathing was steady, and so was his heart… “Feeling better?” they asked quietly, hand gliding up and down their boyfriend’s back. Drakken hummed tiredly, his cheek slightly smushed against Omen’s shoulder. “Y-Yeah… thank you…”
Silence reigned for a few minutes, punctuated by each other’s breathing and the occasional shaky whimper from the cold-blooded dragon. Before he spoke again. “ ‘m sorry…”
Omen tilted their head, antlers bumping against the wall. “What for?”
“Should’ve paid attention… been more careful. Made you worry.”
The child of Death frowned at that. “Do not concern yourself with that. It is fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“S’not though…”
The deer blinked when a cool hand grasped theirs- Drakken was shifting against them to look into their eyes, squeezing their fingers in a firmer grip than before. “You’re always- so careful, always thinking about protecting us. You always r-remind me to be careful when it’s cold, and I wasn’t careful enough, and I’m-made you worry and I’m sorry…”
Omen was stunned- Drakken had just experienced dangerous levels of hypothermia, yet he was concerned about how they felt?
Had they failed to conceal their fear so badly that even Drakken, out of it as he was, had been able to pick up on it?
They let out a shuddering breath, letting their head rest against the other’s, eyes clenched shut. Drakken knew them way too well. Their emotions, now bursting through the damn, making them feel like the lost, scared little kid they had been once. They said nothing, letting their boyfriend cup their face and brush over their fur knowingly. In this moment… there was no need for words.
His claws were sharp- dangerous. Yet he always touched them so gently, so carefully. Even now as his arms left his cocoon of blankets to wrap around Omen, pulling them down into a comforting hug.
“ ‘ey.”
“...Yes?”
“ ‘luv you, treasure.”
The deer felt a surge of affection swelling in their chest. “I love you too, sunflower,” they breathed out, voice a little bit shaky as they returned the dragon’s embrace.
And when Drakken squeaked when they pressed their nose in his neck, Omen knew he was going to be okay.
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yangrdn · 3 years
Text
My Girl
pairing: Mj x Fem!Reader
a/n: sooo finally part 2 is here! I'm so happy that you guys liked part 1 so much, really motivated and made me happy 💞💞 also, never thought about it, but if you want to be added to my taglist, send me an ask and i'll add you!
part 1
summary: you finally get to tell her how you feel
words: 2.6k
warnings: none
my masterlist
→ → → → → → → →
Two weeks after telling Peter, he has tried everything to make you do the first move. Starting conversations with Mj out of nowhere and trying to include you in, asking her about her favorite things- which he actually already knew about, but you'd do anything for your friend, right? You seem to get pretty comfortable with your feelings towards her, since Peter made you spend a lot of time with her and the others after he noticed you not speaking that much again.  
You didn’t want to admit it, but you had a whole crush on Mj. Even after talking to Peter, it was still difficult to admit yourself that you liked girls. You still haven’t told Steve, your dad, and don’t plan on doing so anytime soon. For now, your plan was to find out if Mj felt the same way towards you, or if she even liked girls in the first place. You had asked Peter if he ever talked with her about feelings, but apparently she tries to avoid that topic as much as possible and it doesn’t help your crisis either.  
You’re sitting on your lunch table with Ned, Peter, Mj and Betty. Betty is sitting next to you and Ned on the other side, whilst Mj sits across from you. You try your best to keep your head down and not accidentally look up and make eye contact with her, even though she’s probably too focused on reading her book and holding her sandwich with the other hand. 
Your mind wanders as you decide to risk it and look at her, until Ned wakes you up from your daydreaming.  
“Guys! Look!” He shoves his phone into your face and smiles brightly. There is a website opened for a new movie coming out in three days, it’s called “Call me by your name” and the cover is of Timothee Chalamet.  
“Wait- I’ve been waiting for that movie to come out for MONTHS,” Betty groans as she sits back after having to stand up, to see the screen better. You return your gaze to Mj and catch her staring at you. A shy smile is plastered on her face and she nods towards you. Your gaze instantly goes back to your meal and you mentally slap your face for being so awkward. At least she can’t see your blushing face, you think.  
Two hours later, after maths class, you’re sitting with Ned in physics. Usually you’d sit with Betty, but she decided to sit alone for today. You were copying notes from the board, when Ned suddenly nudges your arm with his elbow. You look up and turn your head to him.  
“Mh?” Continuing to write down what your teacher’s writing on the board, you wait for his answer. But he only smiles at you.
“A bird told me you liked our best friend,” he whispers and lowers his gaze again. You stop taking notes and slowly look up, turning your whole body around to come face to face with Peter, who’s sitting behind you.  
“Hey,” he smiles and waves before taking a pen and starting to write down the notes, too.
“Dumbass,” you mutter under your breath and turn around to Ned with a forced smile.  
“Who told you that? I don’t like anyone.” Your eyes are back on the board, trying to seem as unbothered as possible. Ned chuckled as he returned his gaze back to the paper, not before he let out a useless comment.  
"Y'know, I thought you and Mj would confess faster. Guess I was wrong," he shrugged. Your head instantly snaps up and your eyes widen.
“Bro, shut the fuck up! She could’ve heard you!” Turning around in your seat to look at her, you find her head buried in her physics book and your eyes soften at the sight. You feel your heartbeat against your chest rapidly and hope no one catches you staring. But before you could even realize, Mj looks up and waves at you with an unsure smile. Your hand shots up to wave back softly, smiling and letting out a sigh as you turn back.  
Finding out if she likes you or not will be harder than you thought.  
An hour later, you are sitting with Ned and Peter in your room, explaining to them your feelings.  
“Yeah, and when she waved at me I just...completely blocked everything out? I don’t know, man, she’s so freaking pretty,” you whine and throw yourself back on your bed. Both boys sitting in front of you give each other a look before turning back to you.  
“Look, I’ve never really been in lo-”  
“Peter, not only two days ago you were crying ov-”  
“As I said,” he gives Ned a pointed look and clenches his jaw,” I’ve never really been in love, but I’m entirely sure that you definitely are. I mean, just by the way you admire her from afar and when you two talk?” You sigh and smile at him, silently thanking him for being there for you when you need him.  
“I don’t know, ‘s just she’s a girl and I’ve never had a crush on a g-”  
“You have a crush on a girl?” You jump back from your place and stare at your open door, Natasha and Steve standing there. Steve looks at you with a shocked look and Nat looks rather unsurprised.  
“I- I’m no- Why did you two came in without knocking? I could’ve been changing or something?” You try and change the topic, silently praying that your dad will drop the topic. You were not going to explain to your dad how you found out you had a crush and on top of that- on a girl. He already seemed shocked…  
“The door was already open and we could hear you talk with Peter and Ne- No! You will not change the topic, young lady! I asked you a question.” he demands from you. You exhale and take a look at your two friends, who are already looking at you and nodding to your dad.  
“Uhm, you see...I,” you squint your eyes, “like girls...too” You let out a breath and let your eyes closed, not wanting to see your dad’s reaction. You would’ve told him when you were ready. And now, now was not really the time, because you were still trying to figure everything out. But since he walked in anyways, maybe now was a good timing.
A silence fills the room and you dare to open your eyes, but cast them on the wall behind your dad and hope he won’t be disappointed or mad. To your surprise, he’s neither of those things.  
“Really? How did you find out?” Nat takes a seat on your bean bag and smiles at you. You frown and smile when you realize she is trying to not make this situation uncomfortable.  
“Uhm, well...there’s this girl I thought I only found pretty, turns out she’s...more?” You explain and let out a squeak as she hugs you.  
“Is it Mj? I heard you talking to her the other day and went past your room, you were looking really...dreamy at her.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you feel your face getting warm. Deciding to ignore her comment, your gaze is cast back to your dad still standing in shock.  
You are about to say something, when he breaks the silence.  
“You’re…,” He looks at Nat for help and she just shrugs, not knowing what label you’re comfortable with.  
“Bi? I mean, I think that’s what I am.” You smile and shrug. Until now, he’s very chill. The bad gut feeling you had slowly disappearing as you see his face softening and he sighs. Peter and Ned slowly get up as they try not to ruin the moment, but instantly fail.  
“We- we just wanted to wait outside because this feels like an intimate moment between you two,” Ned shows to the door and nods. When you smile at him, he’s sure you’re thankful and mouths “good luck”.  
“So, girls?” Steve plants himself on your other side. You nod and lower your head. He didn’t say anything wrong and you’re sure he won’t do something, Steve isn’t like that. But it still feels weird to have to talk to him about this, you didn’t even prepare yourself and this was also so new to him.  
“Look, I know you love me and I know you care. But if this changes how you view me, then I’ll not take it as something good. I’m still trying to figure this all out and don’t even know what I want to label myself and if I even want to. But you're my dad, so I think you should have to know about this. So, now the question that’s been on my mind; you don’t hate me, right?”  
Finally taking a deep breath and feeling your eyes fill with tears, you dare to look up and take a look at your dad. He sits there, completely in shock and awe. By the shaking of your hands and shuddered breaths he knows this is taking a toll on you and you’re not 100% comfortable in the situation. You tried your best to stop yourself from shaking, but failed as Steve took your hands in his and smiled at you. 7
“Ok, that was a lot to unpack at once. And I’m really glad and proud of you for talking to me about this and telling me,” he says. Nat’s still sitting on your bean bag and nods at Steve, signaling he’s doing everything right.  
“And I’m also happy that you got friends that understand and respect you. Back to when I was a kid, it would’ve been completely different. I remember this guy who got caught kissing another guy and his dad freaked out and asked me where he was. II, of course, decided to lie but almost got an asthma attack when I saw the g-”
“Ok, ok. I don’t think I want to know about that, it’s not really helping me.” You quickly interrupted him as you thought about what he could’ve said next.  
“Right, right, sorry. So uh, what I actually wanted to say is that I’m happy you have friends and a family that respects and accepts you, and I’m happy you got the courage to tell me,” he pauses and nods to Nat, “us, about this.” You quietly thank him with a smile and hug.  
“Aww, that’s so cute. Now that you finally confirmed you like girls. Was I right? It 's Mj, right?” Nat encourages and starts a new conversation. You giggle and shrug.  
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Nat,” you trail off and look around the room. Both adults chuckle.  
A week later, you’re sitting with Mj, Peter and Ned on the rooftop of Peter’s apartment. He invited you three to come and hang out. Peter excuses himself before leaving to get food.  
Ned is silently looking up at the stars as you shift closer to the edge of the building, leaning your head down to look at the small cars and people.  
“Woah, don’t do that. You’ll fall.” Mj shifts closer to you, your knees touching. You smile at her.
“To be honest, it kinda does look peaceful to just lay back and fall,” you acknowledge. You’ve seen it a million times in movies, shows. It looks peaceful. If only death wasn’t the result of it.  
“Well, just...try not to. I don’t want you gone, forever,” the girl next to you whispers.  
Your cheeks heat up, your eyes avoiding hers and looking anywhere but left to you. You feel her gaze on you, which doesn’t make it any better and you silently pray for Peter to come back, so you could have an excuse to busy yourself with something.  
“Uhm...how was your maths test? The one we had last week.” Mj tries to sparkle a conversation between you two. A huff leaves your lips as you turn to her.  
“I still didn't look at my grade. Thought it’d be better if I did it when I’m not stressed, y’know?”  
She nods and averts her gaze from you. You can feel the awkward tension between you guys, but decide to not do anything. That is, until she speaks up again.  
“Are you- are you mad at me? You spent so little time with us every time I was the-”
“No! No, I’m not mad. I just...have a lot on my mind lately,” you explain and fiddle with your fingers. Never did you plan actually talking to her tonight. The boys told you it’d be a normal movie night and when you found out she’d be there too, you thought you could get away before she even came up to you.
“What is it?” Her brown eyes stare back at you and you have the feeling she could look into your soul, as if she already knew the answer.  
Thinking about how you would tell your best friend you like her made you even more nervous for tonight. And the worst part; you didn’t know if she liked girls in that way. This made your nerves go through the roof, but also in a good way. Knowing that maybe she had the same feelings towards you made your heart flutter and cheeks heat up.
“I...like this view” You change the subject and point to the busy city below you, tensing when you feel her move even closer to you and leaning back.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong? Because you don’t really look...relaxed.” By now you know you’ve made a mistake changing the subject so fast. You could’ve lied, told her you had a rough week. Told her it was exams, anything.  
“I actually wanted to tell you something today. I need you to promise you wo-”  
“I like girls. That 's it. I wanted to tell you for days now but never got to do it. And I know this is really rushed and I never planned it on saying it like this. I actually wanted to tell you later but now you noticed I’m nervous and-” Your rant gets cut off when you feel a pair of soft lips pressing on yours.  
The second it drawns down on you that Mj just kissed you, you pull away instantly. Looking at her through wide eyes, you ask. “Wait, you like girls, too?”  
“I- yes? You don’t?” A panic sets through her as she moves back and you try to understand what happened.  
“What? No! I mean, yes! I like girls, too.” You sit closer to her and take her face into your hands, one hand on either side of her face. She looks at you through shining eyes and a wide smile.  
“Can we kiss again? I swear I’ve never felt this euphoric-” This time, you’re the one who cuts her off by kissing her and letting your lips move against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. You pull back after seconds of kissing to get some air to breath.  
“Woah, that was-” “Perfect.” You smile at her and watch her smile grow wide, if that was even possible.  
Mj scoots closer to you and lets out a sigh.  
“I was really scared to tell you. Saw you spent a lot of time with Peter and thought you liked him,” she explains, her smiles falling.  
“I could never. I mean, he’s a great friend. But now I’m just happy I kissed you. But there’s one thing left.”  
“And that is?”  
“Will you be my girl?” You ask, intervening your fingers with hers and playing your hands on your lap. She just smirks as an answer and pulls you in for a kiss.
→   →   →   →   →   →  
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vickylamore · 3 years
Text
Enemy Of The Wolves [3]
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TW: Language, Violence, Fighting + Poor Written Fighting Scene, Gore (brief), Injuries
Pairing: [slight] Mark Lee x Female Reader, NCT OT23 [Mostly platonic] x Female Reader
Genre: Action, Military Style AU, Organized Crime AU, Mafia AU, Angst and Fluff
(3/?) Part 1 Part 2
Word Count: 5.8k
[Main Masterlist] [Enemy Of The Wolves - Mini Masterlist]
Summary: Not only were you one of the few females to be apart of Neo Culture Technology’s underground organized crime association, you were also the only and top ranked female captain in the entire industry. Even if you worked in a majority male industry, you earned respect from nearly every one of your male counterparts. All but one. That one not only exposed your name to one of NCT’s worst and most vicious rivals but signed NCT’s entire demise. Only one group will prevail, the other left in ruins with no chance of recovery.
Notes: Good morning, currently 1:17 am and sorry for this taking three weeks to write, enjoy LMAO
Disclaimer: Please remember that this is a work of fiction and solely fiction. Any of the idols written and mentioned in this series would never take part in these actions, let alone stand by/condone them. The idols mentioned are merely used as characters and in no way am I saying that this is how they act in real life.
It didn’t take you too long to reach the building, faster than you actually expected. You had crossed a few other teachers, most older than you but respected you none the less. 
You were tired and all you wanted to do was rest. You have gotten off a nineteen-hour flight, came straight home, learned what your delinquent soldiers did in your absence through the Dreamies, confronted a handful of students, reported back to 127 and had a mini-reunion with WayV. Some of the moments were more pleasant than others. 
You rounded the corner and continued your way down the hallway, fatigue noticeable in your features but you forced yourself to stay awake just until you get to the dorms. You are more mentally and emotionally exhausted than anything else. A lot of it was because of what happened on your mission but you didn't want to talk about it.
You arrived in front of your office and sighed; you were going to prepare yourself for another issue before the day ended. However, you pause in front of the door when you hear chatter on the other side.
This confused you; no one should have access to your office or any higher-ups' offices for the matter. It was out of respect and privacy. Plus, you made sure it was locked, especially since the offices are secured with passcodes. The code bar on the side of the door was broken, insisting that someone had just broken it. If this was before you had arrived, someone would’ve noticed. This happened recently.
"We shouldn't be doing this, you know it's wrong."
"Doesn't matter," one whispered harshly, "you heard what he said, Captain Song could be onto us and our entire plan could be ruined.” You heard rummaging through drawers as you heard more sounds from further inside the room. 
What was going on?
“Ezra, come on,” you heard another whisper from inside yet his voice was a lot quieter and was nearly inaudible. “Jihoon should be there any moment. Help Chris look through her stuff and tell us if you find anything useful.”
“I don’t understand why we didn’t do this when she first left,” you heard another groan, “we had two months and we’re doing this now? Not to mention Captain Song literally will arrive any minute-”
“Which is why you talk less and keep searching you idiot,” You recognized the voice as Hyunwoo’s, it was definitely next to Chan. “Look for anything that could look bad on her, take a picture then send it to Jihoon.” There was a pause. “Mh-hm.”
“Yeah, anything from weird documents, files, anything on Neo Culture that raise an eyebrow… just anything to frame her and make 127 think she’s the one that-”
You suddenly open the door, your eyes landing on four of five students you were supposed to talk to this afternoon. They all froze when they saw you, dropping whatever they had in their hands with their mouths agape.
“I’m the one that what?” You asked, your jaw clenched and your eyes are dark as ever, pure iciness emitting from them. “What the hell are you guys doing in my office?”
Your office was a mess when you looked around; paper and files sprawled across the floor, books and folders were thrown at every corner of the room. Your artifacts and nameplate were removed, the table in the middle right was turned over, the library where all your books of anatomy, fighting and strategic tactics were either on the floor, opened or misplaced on the shelves.
Some of them jumped at the sound of your booming voice, others fumbling on their words while looking at them. You were more shocked than anything. Your students, some of who you’ve been teaching for so long were the ones rummaging through all your stuff in search of something so important that they had to breach your privacy.
You were sick to your stomach, you weren’t even expecting this type of behaviour from them. That showed how much faith you had for them, hoping they’d change and finally mature into, one day, future and reliant soldiers. But now, Ezra was frozen in the middle of the room, his back faced to you while he was facing your office bureau, Chris was next to the library, a book now at his feet after dropping it while Chan was hunched behind your desk and Hyunwoo was crouched in front one of the drawers on your desk.
By their faces, you could tell that whatever plan they had backfired as soon as you stepped foot inside the room. 
“I said, ‘what the hell are you guys in my office’” Your voice was a lot more hostile than before as you placed your hand on your holster, staring at the students in hostility and suspicion. The only information you had right now was, one, they broke into your office and two, they were talking about their plan that included you for some reason. You saw Chan’s eyes widen, the brunette with deep brown eyes obviously panicking.
You watched as Hyunwoo got back up from his crouched position, his eyes fixated on your gun. You clenched your jaw, your other hand going for your communicator, the one that every NCT member has where you’re able to communicate over a 30-mile range. You didn’t want to take any chances, especially since you were alone with four students who could overpower you if they tried hard enough.
Not to mention that you hoped that Hyunwoo didn’t find the hidden gun in your desk’s drawer. Even if it’s locked, you didn’t know what else they broke into.
You moved your gaze to Ezra, who had turned around when you asked what they were doing for the second time. Out of all of them, he was the one that was the most agitated. The one was looked torn between helping his friends in whatever business they had in your office and answering your question.
So you, being the person you are, picked on him. You had to figure out what they were doing and you were sure the three others weren’t going to tell you. You stared at the black-haired student with hazel eyes while keeping an eye on everyone else, the only disadvantage was that Chris was near the bookshelf, which was completely behind you as you stepped foot into the room. “Ezra.”
The nineteen-year-old jumped, not expecting you to talk to him first, especially since he’s the youngest out of the friend group. He started at you while his fingers were trembling. You almost felt bad, maybe you would’ve if they didn’t break into your office. “Y-yes?”
“What are you doing?” From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunwoo reach his hand down and pull out something just as fast, making you pull out your gun and point it at the youngest male. You see everyone’s eyes widen as Hyunwoo now pulls the gun on you, cocking in back, loading a bullet. You don’t mind the twenty-one year old, turning your head towards Ezra again, you calmly question, “Ezra, what do you guys have planned?”
“Don’t you fucking answer her, Ezra.” The older male growled lowly, his deep, gravel voice making the growl almost animalistic.
“Ezra,” you call his name once more which makes him look at you, “what are you guys doing-?”
“Shut up before I blow your brains out!” You were about to point out that the door was open, that it would be stupid for him to shoot you right in the open. That was until Chris closed it. You cursed under your breath as you were now running out of options.
You, however, kept your cool and turned your attention to the student with the gun pointed at you. “No, you won’t.”
Hyunwoo was caught off guard by your boldness, certainly baffled by the fact that you weren't fazed by someone holding a gun towards you. He shook his head for a few moments before ceasing, “and why not?” His voice made himself sound a lot tougher than he was but his body language was a completely different story. He was scared and nervous; never a good combo when holding a gun.
You scoffed under your breath, analyzing the current situation you’re currently in. “One; you shoot me, one, you won’t have anyone to frame in your little scheme. Two, that gun doesn’t have a silencer, meaning that in a one-mile radius, everyone in this very building and in the other ones will hear it and three, the gunshot will make the academy go into lockdown which means you and everyone here won’t have enough time to run before one of the higher-ups find you.” You list off while deadpanning.
“That’s why you can’t shoot me.” 
You saw Hyunwoo think about what you said as you saw Chan move from the desk with his hands raised. He looked at you in plea, hoping you wouldn’t do anything to his younger friend. “Captain please, don’t shoot him.”
You rolled your eyes at this, “obviously should’ve thought of the consequences before breaking into my office.” You cocked the gun back, scaring both Ezra and Chan. “Now, what the hell are you guys doing in my office and what do you guys have planned?”
You weren’t stupid; you weren’t going to shoot the guy-- unless necessary-- you just needed the information about what the hell Jihoon was planning and what they were doing. You wouldn’t shoot Ezra to evoke fear out of his friends, it’ll give them more of a reason to attack you. 
At which, you were at a complete disadvantage. Two of the students here, Ezra and Hyunwoo were amazing at hand to hand combat even if Ezra still lacks a soldier exterior and Hyunwoo was hot-headed and added tech genius. Chan was better with weapons as you’ve heard from Haechan, from a wide range of handguns and heavy-duty arms. You were fine right now since he didn’t have access to a gun. As for Chris, he was an extreme strategist and like the first two, great in hand-to-hand combat; him having the top grades in your class. You needed to look out for him, he was the biggest threat to you currently. 
“Please, don’t shoot me.” You glanced at the youngest, seeing tears form in his eyes, “I’ll tell you--”
“Ezra!”
“I'll tell you,” he ignored Chris’s call and nodded his head, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, just please, put the gun down.”
You shook your head and clicked your tongue, “can’t do that, not with Chris being behind me and Hyunwoo with a gun pointed to my head; you’re my only leverage.” You weren’t lying, you knew that as soon as the gun was off of him, Chris was going to attack you and the other two would join in. 
At this point, you weren’t the ‘soft and nice’ version of yourself, you were the version of yourself that got you your position as Captain, the more ruthless and heartless version of yourself. Did you hate it? No. Do you wish that this situation never occurred? Of course.
“Okay, okay,” the youngest nodded his head while looking at you with teary eyes, “I’ll tell you but you need to promise you won’t hurt them.”
Chan sighed heavily, slowing going back to where he previously was next to Hyunwoo, “Ezra, stop talking--”
“Be quiet,” you hushed the other as you looked back at him, “if they don’t try anything, I won’t try anything. You have my word.”
They were students after all. They, in fact, are very that 127 or Dreamies found them rummaging through your things, hell, even WayV. They’re very much, actions first, ask questions later. Exactly the reason why all the Dreamies were in tier one (which is a story for another day) and why you’re sometimes so frustrated with half of 127, especially Taeyong (cue him telling Jisung it was okay to punch Jihoon). You were more of a gain more information now and see what you do with the person later.
Which was what you were currently doing.
“We’re trying to frame you,” he said as everyone around expressed sounds of disappointment and annoyance. He ignored them and continued, “we broke into your office to find any information about your mission or anything that could look bad on you.”
You lifted your eyebrows and waved your gun, urging him to continue as you know there's more to the story. “And who exactly were you going to give this information to? The higher-ups? Go as far as to give it Taeyong?”
Ezra glanced at his friends, who kept shaking their heads in disapproval. You saw him hesitate and now you were getting frustrated with the entire ordeal. To be honest, if it were any other day, you would’ve been fuming. However, you won't say you didn't see this coming; you weren’t surprised that they’re trying to frame you especially after Jihoon’s little speech.
“Ezra, do not waste my time.” You clenched your jaw and rasped out, “you and everyone here are already caught, there's no need to keep quiet unless you want me to call my backup right now,” you threatened. “You know, out of the Dreamies, Jisung is the most patient but even he punched Jihoon over stuff he said about me. How do you think everyone else will react when they find out that you broke into my office and were trying to frame me over whatever it is?”
You saw his face fall, even more than before, as he nodded his head but not convinced. You sighed again, your voice more straightforward than before, a mocking smirk on your face, “now if you think that’s bad, how do you think 127 will react… hell WayV is back and they have one of the top-ranked interrogators in China and South Korea.”
“Okay! Okay!”
You raised your eyebrow when he cracked further. You thought it was too easy, way too easy for a student in the second-tier. Then again, Xiaojun, Renjun and Jungwoo were pretty scary.
“Well then,” at this point, you were too focused on Ezra that you currently cared less about what the others were doing. Something you know will bite in your ass later. “Who were you going to sell or give the information to?”
“Ezra!” Chris yelled from behind you, making your head tilt towards the eldest in the room. His gaze was fixated on the youngest, his gaze sinking into his skull, “shut up.”
“No, he won't,” you snapped, fed up with their attempt to stopping him from telling you what you needed to know, “he agreed to confess to what you guys were doing, let him speak.”
“He didn’t agree to shit!” The messy blonde male yelled at you, his jaw visibly clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “the only reason he’s talking is because you have a fucking gun to his head.”
You scoffed, using your other hand to point to Hyunwoo who was still pointing a gun to your head, “a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“The Dragons!” Ezra finally exploded, his voice rising, “Jihoon made a deal with them when you first left; he offered to tell them all the things he learned as a student as well as information they didn't have on you- so then we started looking for files that could help them figure out who you are since you aren’t in their database and Hyunwoo came across a file about your mission which was locked away really far since it took us about an hour to find something on you and he sent it to Jihoon. Basically, The Dragons found out who you were using the info and Jihoon and Hyunwoo’s help as a hacker, they found out what happened about whatever happened in Canada and so they are planning an attack tonight at midnight for revenge.”
Your eyes widen, shock overtaking your body. You didn’t even have time to think about the information learnt Chris ushered, “son of a bitch!”
And started attacking you.
You moved out of the way in time to avoid his kick but his foot hit your hand, knocking the gun out of your grasp and landing in Ezra’s hand. You ignored it and started attacking the person in front of you, finally considering him as a traitor.
They broke into your office, sold your information to NCT’s worst enemies and basically set up a hit on the base for midnight tonight? And you being the only one knowing about it since you practically forced it out of à student at gunpoint?
This was bad, you understood the absolute severity of the situation. Although 127 had men from all over SK and many allies, it was already six o'clock, there’s no way the allies were going to get here in time and decipher a plan of defence. That is if you don’t tell them right away. You need to take care of them first and at the same time, contact the members to alert them of the situation.
You knocked Chris’s punch away from you, ducking under his arm and striking him in the stomach. You turned around when you heard someone approaching you and deflecting the blow to your face with your forearm, taking Chan by surprise. You dodged his headbutt and hit him on the side of his stomach at which he didn’t flinch, only returning a hit to your shoulder. Although it landed, you didn’t bother worrying about it and avoided his chokehold. You pushed him off of you and moved away just in time for both males to run into each other in an attempt to combo attack you. Turning around, you see Hyunwoo running straight at you and knocked you on your back.
You let out a sharp puff of air, dazed for only a few seconds in time to use your arms to block the punches to your face. Quickly grabbing his arms, your bucked your hips towards the air and shot them to the right, throwing Hyunwoo to the side falling off of you. 
You were suddenly being pulled from your foot, Chan pulling your away Hyunwoo. You pulled up while grabbing his arms and twisting them in hope that the pain would get him to let up. He only groans in pain but continues pulling you. Seeing as it wasn’t working, you tucked your other leg under the other one, in between his arms and pushing your foot on his stomach, creating enough force to knock him back and falling atop of the desk.
You hastily get back to your feet, only for someone to kick your back, making you tumble back on the floor. You moan at the pain in your lower back but roll away as soon as you see a foot above your face, nearly hitting you. You get back up but when a kick lands on your stomach, you're knocked straight into the bookshelf, a couple of books falling on top of you.
You stayed dizzy for a few seconds, your mind becoming fuzzy. You let out a quick sigh and through a punch to the nearest person approaching you. He falls to the floor as you move to your next target. You send a roundhouse kick to Chris, one that he ducks under but he isn’t fast enough to block upright kick, which was a blow to the shoulder.
Chan had quietly approached you from behind and put you in a chokehold, attempting to knock you out. You launch your head backwards and pry his fingers from your shoulders, pinning his arms behind his back, crouching behind him and use him as a shield from Hyunwoo who accidentally punches his gut.
You push him onto Hyunwoo, knocking them both on the floor. Just when you thought you were clear to use your communicator, you’re knocked to the side with someone sitting on top of you pining your arms over your head and starting punching you repeatedly on your face and chest. You struggle getting Chris off of you, his waist too far down to use your legs. You let out multiple groans of pain as you start seeing stars.
You snarl and rip your arms from his hand, pushing him off of you while throwing à punch to his jaw. You breathe heavily, your chest-thumping from both the already forming bruises and your racing heart.
You get on your knees, about to get back up when someone puts you in another chokehold. You’re not able to do anything when you’re suddenly hit on the head with what you presume to be the back of a gun.
Your entire vision starts to fuzz up, the dizziness and nauseous hitting you hard as the chokehold only gets tighter and tighter. You try prying his arm from your neck but eventually, you start slipping unconscious, the last words you hear resonate with you until you wake up.
"I'm sorry."
"No!"
The young girl slapped her hand across her mouth and tore her gaze away from the slightly opened door. You were in there, you were either hurt or even possibly... No, she wasn't going to think about that, not about your potential death. She knew you weren't, despite not able to see anything, she heard a loud thud, presumably your body. She knew what a stab sounded like as well as a gunshot, it couldn't have been either. Maybe it was your body hitting the ground, she couldn't tell.
Lia had heard everything, from the fighting to their plan; she knew that Jihoon was already on his way to The Dragons to give them whatever information they had on you, whether it was good or bad. Either way, she could accept that it’ll make the Dragons upset. She was so shocked that during the entire ordeal that she could just listen and gather as much information as possible before finding someone that could help.
And that time was now considering they heard her gasp.
She should've listened to her gut; she should have come sooner, everything could have been avoided or even interrupted if she had gone to get help. But her instincts told her to wait; she was now the only one who could warn the others about the plan now that you were unconscious. Her hand balled into a first as she leaned her back on the wall as quietly as she could. Her heart was racing and her mind thought of her training; she could do this, just had to be smart about it.
“You head that too right?” Chris whispered to Chan while panting heavily, “sounded it came from…” Lia’s eyes widened. 
"Check how it is, if they run, both of you ran after them... make sure they don't get away."
The only thing that separated them was the door and she was moments away from being killed. She looked to her left; the pathway over there led to a dead-end, the only thing there was the rest of the Dreamies offices and if they had heard the entire fight like she had, they would've been here by now. The only reason Lia was in front of your office was that she was, to her denial, eager to talk to you about your mission. She thanks her lucky stars for her curiosity. To her right was the hallway she walked from, leading to a gateway of stairs that led to the second-floor lounge and an exit at the bottom of the steps, followed by a fire alarm.
If she could get there by running fast enough, she would be able to trigger it and run outside to the student evacuation zone and alert the military personnel. One shot, she told herself, I have one shot at this.
She braced herself and bolted seconds before they opened the door, a string of swear words leaving Chris's mouth. “Fuck! Lia!” Chris ran after her, gun took from Ezra while Chan followed suit, gun was stolen from you. 
The brown-haired girl ran as fast as she could, her legs picking up the pace as the footsteps follow behind her. One shot, one shot, one shot, she kept repeating to herself. She heard the footsteps gain speed on her as she flew around the corner and pushed the door opened, jumping over the rail and onto the other set of stairs, glancing up to see both men already opening the door. Lia's heart sunk, were they that close to her? She shook her head and picked up the pace, scurrying down the stairs, almost jumping over sets of three before landing near the door.
"She's going outside!"
"Take the left to cut her off!"
“Come on,” her heart was racing as she glanced up again, this time seeing that their guns are drawn. Visibly panicking, Lia's hands fumbled on the fire alarm and finally pulled it, her hands now covered in dark blue ink and a loud, excruciating bell echoing through the halls and filling every room and pathway in all three buildings. Even if she wanted to go directly towards the teachers, that door was locked by a bio-passcode, she couldn't go through even if she wanted.
A hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around, a small yell ripping through the teen's throat, too quiet to be heard over the alarm. Chan groaned when she kicked his lower waist and inhaled sharply among the pain. Lia hastily opened the metal door and shut it as soon as Chris put his hand through to stop her, shutting on his fingers and amputating two, a string of anguished cries cutting through the thick and dense atmosphere surrounding the three. His fingers fell on the floor and bleed out, bone poking out of the severed organism.
Stumbling on her steps as a cold wind ran through her hair, Lia pushed her glasses up before taking off, the traitors collecting themselves before running after her a short while later. 
The sun was setting as the alarm ran through the rooms, offices and hallways. Every student, whether asleep, socializing or studying got up upon the loud blaring sound. Some jumped while others only sighed and complained about a fire drill this late in the evening but still went out, some grabbing their coats. Some teachers glanced at the flashing light before their eyebrows raised in confusion but still went out nonetheless. They filled out of their dorms, libraries and practice rooms, teachers ushering them out while communicating with others, making sure no student was left behind.
Soon, the entire facility was vacant, save you still tied to your chair and unconscious. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun, who had been walking back to their offices looked at the light and glanced at each other. They also wanted to stop by yours, figuring they haven't seen you since you came back but upon seeing the closed door, lack of noise and turned off light, they presumed you were already out.
“Did Taeyong or Mark even tell you guys we were running a drill?” asked Jeno while looking down the hall, "unless it was a last-minute thing, I didn't hear anything."
“No, it’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Renjun glanced at his com before asking, “hey, did any of you guys know?”
The rest of the Dreamies, including Mark, answered with a no. Jaemin glanced at the clock, “you don’t think one of the students pulled it, do you? A lot of them have tests tomorrow.”
“Don’t know,” Jeno shrugged while ruffling his hair, “we’ll have to search for anyone still inside, look for students with blue hands too.” 
Blue hands. Each time someone pulled the fire alarm if it wasn’t set off in the official’s offices, would have stained blue hands to catch the culprits. Even if the perpetrator wore gloves, the ink could be seen with a UV light, any speckle could be seen either way. 
“Hey guys,” Renjun spoke again in his comm, “Jeno, Jaemin and I will check the student quarters, can you guys check levels one and two?”
“Already cleared,” Mark’s voice came through with a sigh, “waiting outside right now. To our knowledge, only a handful of students are missing and 127 are coming out, WayV already here-- have you seen (Y/n)?”
The Dreamies looked at your office they had just passed, Renjun looking under the door to make sure the light was off. "No, we haven't. We just got on the third floor when the alarm started so I'm guessing she's already out if not going right now. Either way, she's not in her office."
Jaemin had a feeling, it wasn't remotely bad, it was just odd. Wouldn't he have heard you leave the room? Maybe you never came here in the first place... but you would've if that meeting with Jihoon and his friends still happened but considering the closed door and turned off lights, he presumed that it had already finished. Or so he hoped.
“Copy,” Mark answered before deactivating, "don't be too long." He lowered her wrist before looking at the soldiers behind him. The students were in the evacuation zone, instructed to stay whenever a fire or emergency were to occur. Quiet murmurs were among them but not too loud to be annoying. 
Six students were missing, five of them being the group of delinquent boys and one of them being Min Lia, the youngest student in Neo Culture. She should be here by now, Mark knew that she would’ve been the first to be out, considering she’s one of the most prominent students here despite being young. He had the chance to work with her before and after you left; Lia reminded him so much of you, especially when fighting. You both had the same style and technique despite hers before undeveloped, it was there. You both were also strategic. He only hoped to see him in a few moments. You as well.
Mark proceeded to look at Lucas and Yangyang, both WayV members with him at the time the alarm ran out. “Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno are checking the student quarters to see if anyone’s left.”
“Alright but I doubt they have any luck finding anyone,” Yangyang sighed, “no matter where you are in the building, those alarms are loud, everyone should be here.”
“Better to be safe than sorry I guess,” Lucas looked over the crowd, “I might not know every student here but the field is pretty filled.” Before he could explain further, Taeyong had walked out the west side doors. 
Once they had all arrived, sun still setting in the background with a brisk wind ruffling their hair, Taeyong looked around before voicing out, “there’s no fire.”
The members dawned in a state of wonder before Taeyong regained control, “checked the cams, no smoke, no blaze, nothing. Either it was a prank or it was deliberately set off.”
“Why would someone deliberately pull the alarm?” Sungchan asked with raised eyebrows, “unless you think it was an attack from the inside.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
"But who?" Questioned Jisung, "they wouldn't do that... I can't think of anyone who could..."
He stopped himself upon realizing that they were some students that could set the fire alarm, that he had been wrong. Before saying anything else, Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun all walked out and joined upon seeing all of them gathered together. Jeno was the first to speak, bringing everyone to pay attention, "no students are in their quarters, completely vacant."
"That means no one should be in the buildings," Doyoung whispered with an unsatisfied tone, "but that's not right."
"How so?"
"Six students are missing," Chenle answered, looking around him before his gaze landed on Mark. "Nearly all of them should've been with (Y/n) at the time of the alarm." A silence fell over the personnel, their eyes scanning the group.
"Then where is she?" Kun was the first to voice, eyebrows scrunched. "She should've been here by now."
"That's the thing," Jeno said with a  heavy air to his tone, "her office lights were killed, there's no way she could be there. IF she was, the other boys would be there too but the room was completely silent."
"Then where the hell is she?" No one could answer Ten's question, minds scattering to come up with an answer. They didn't know where you were and what's scarier is that they didn't know if the delinquents, who are now traitors unbeknownst to their knowledge, were with you or somehow connected. 
"Who else is missing?"
"Min Lia," Mark looked at Taeil, jaw clenched, irritation behind his eyes. "Her and (Y/n) are close, wouldn't be shocked if they were together."
"So you're telling me that not only if the captain of D.R.E.A.M.S is missing but six students are along with her? Five of them wreaking havoc during her absence?" Yuta ran a hand on his mouth, "did anyone try calling her?"
"Numerous times yeah," Haechan nodded with a click to his tongue, "hasn't responded since the last time I've called her."
“The passcode bar was broken,” Jaemin suddenly rushed out and shared with the group, eyes widening as he cursed under his breath, “wasn’t broken before she got here.”
"Call a code yellow," Taeyong ordered as soon as his suspicions were made clear, although he hoped he was wrong. His hand was already on his holster when he looked at the annoyed students pacing, waiting to go back inside. "Six students and a captain missing despite the alarm pulled and put a code white on the five boys, someone pulled that fire alarm intentionally and I don't think it was any of the second tiers."
As if nothing could get worse, two gunshots rang out from outside near the center of the academy, not too far from the evacuation zone. Everyone ducked in case of an oncoming bullet, screams and cries from students disturbed the once irritated atmosphere and it quickly induced fear and panic in the younger classmates. Taeyong was the first to react, drawing his gun and hooking his com in his ear, knowing that whatever's happening was much bigger than he thought.
The General yelled commands over the yells, “WayV go inside and look for any threats and search every room, including those who are barricade with passcodes. 127, secure the perimeter and Dreamies, escort the students to the bunker and then I want Jeno and Haechan helping WayV look for any threats while the rest of you are on cams. Report back immediately if anything happens, I want eyes and ears on everything, understood?”
"Understood."
"Go now!”
46 notes · View notes
bldreamer · 4 years
Text
LOOK | MorkSun
Dark Blue Kiss : MorkSun
Summary: Five times Sun is surprised by Mork’s appearance. One time they surprise each other.   Genre: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. 5+1.  Warnings: Tiny mention of power tools and stitches(?) 
A/N: I miss MorkSun. @kdramama thank you darling x
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1.
When Sun notices Mork sitting on the couch by the window of the cafe, he has to do a double take. He’s still in his uniform, brow creased in deep concentration, pen in his mouth as he chews on the cap. The coffee table is covered in textbooks and his calculator is resting on his thigh as he jams his index finger mercilessly into the buttons.
It’s not the first time Sun has watched him do his homework in the cafe. So that’s not the thing that surprises him.
Sun smiles, holding his pad and pencil for extra smugness.
“Can I get you anything, sir?” he asks in his perfect customer friendly tone.
Mork mumbles something Sun thinks sounds like a combination of ‘No’, and ‘Go away’. But he can’t help himself to tease a little more. He’s enjoying the view far too much to leave so soon.
“You can’t sit here if you don’t order anything, I’m afraid.” He taps his pencil, pressing it to the paper. “So, what can I get for you?”
Mork pulls the pen out of his mouth and looks up through his thick lashes. Sun can actually pinpoint the exact second where his glare falters and he realises Sun isn’t going anywhere unless he plays along for a moment or two.
“Iced tea, and a restraining order,” Mork grumbles.
“Restraining order?”
“Mh,” Mork hums, “There’s an annoying barista harassing me.”
Sun grins. “I bet he’s handsome though.”
“And he’s really humble about it.” Mork turns back to his papers, pushing his glasses back to his brow. “His personality needs work, if you ask me,” he mutters, jotting something down.  
Sun pouts. “You’re so cold,” he says.
“Was there something you wanted, P’?” Mork asks, distracted. “Or do you just enjoy bugging me even on my day off?”
Sun chews on his bottom lip, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Surprise.” Mork pushes them up his nose again, as if on instinct because Sun has brought them up.
Sun won’t say this aloud, he values his life. But the glasses are undeniably cute. Slim black frames, soft round lenses, and a silver bridge curved across Mork’s nose making him look equal parts adorable and sexy.
“Don’t get used to it,” Mork tells him plainly.
“Oh?”
“I get my new contacts in a week.”
That means Sun gets to see Mork wearing them for the next five or six days at least. He isn’t disappointed in the slightest. Specifically at the thought of tugging Mork into bed and taking them off for him before they kiss.
“What happened to the old ones?” Sun asks out of curiosity.
“They were making my eyes itch,” Mork comments, clicking his calculator and turning his nose up, apparently unhappy with the answer it gives him.
Now that Sun looks past his lenses and the blue glare they’re giving off, he can see Mork’s eyes are a little red and irritated. He wonders if the AC is making his eyes dry and he needs to turn it down or change the filter. He makes a note to do both before morning.
“I like the glasses,” Sun mentions discreetly. “They make you look distinguished.”
Mork looks up past the reflective lenses. “Distinguished?” he asks slowly, like he knows what Sun is getting at but he’s still curious.
“Like a sexy librarian,” Sun tells him.
Mork sniggers. “Pervert.” There’s a faint pink glow that blossoms from his cheeks and Sun can’t help but grin at the sight. “Hurry up with my order or I’m going to Boss Cafe to study.”
“Yes sir, coming right up sir.” Sun jots something down on his pad. “One iced tea, coming your way,” he assures with mock urgency, tearing off the paper and putting it down on the coffee table.
He walks away back to the kitchen to make Mork’s drink. He looks up from behind the counter to see the boy reading his note.
-Stay over tonight and I’ll show you how I feel about sexy librarians.
He doesn’t miss the smile that spreads across Mork’s face as he tucks the note into his top pocket, going back to his homework.
2.
Mork starts growing his hair out some time around monsoon season.
His fringe is the only thing that’s different at first. It gets too long to lay over his forehead and Mork flicks it out of his eyes about a thousand times an hour until it's long enough to tuck behind his ears.
There’s an awkward stage where Mork grumbles about cutting it until Sun finds a new niche in threading his fingers through the long strands and brushing his thumb over the hairs at the nape of Mork’s neck in the quiet moments when they’re alone.
When it almost touches Mork’s jawline and starts to curl at the ends, Sun jokes he’ll have to start wearing a hairnet when he’s working.
The next morning Sun comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to see Mork in front of the mirror, attempting to pull the front half of his hair into pineapple looking sprout at the top of his head.
It’s ridiculously fluffy and Sun hadn’t expected it to be so wavy when he started growing it out. It makes Mork look like a completely different person than the arrogant troublemaker he used to be. His rough and jagged edges softened into something warm and content.
Rain has taken to calling his best friend Mushroom Head and Sun often watches fondly as his boyfriend puts Rain into an unforgiving headlock and drags him around the cafe. It’s the only act of violence Sun permits under his roof.
“Need some help?” Sun dares to ask, despite being on the receiving end of a glare in the reflexion of the mirror.
“This is your fault.”
“My fault?” Sun echos, taking the hair tie from him without prompt.
“You told me I’d look good with long hair.”
Sun frowns. “I did?” he questions, racking his brain for that particular memory.
“You were drunk,” Mork says.
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
Sun manipulates him so he can reach the top of his head. Raking his fingers through Mork’s long hair and gathering the front section into his hand.
“You said I’d be as fluffy on the outside like I am on the inside.”
“That sounds like me,” Sun agrees. Drunk him anyway.
He twists the hair tie and makes a small if slightly messy looped knot on the top of Mork’s head. He steps back to admire his masterpiece, smiling at the cute hairstyle and Mork’s grumpy face below.
“You look adorable,” he beams, proud of himself.
“I look stupid,” Mork complains, not even looking in the mirror. “I’m going to the barbers on my lunch break.”
Sun wonders if the sounds of his shattering heart reach Mork’s ears. If they do, he doesn’t seem to care.
“Mork,” he cries, reaching for his hand.
“Shut your face, I owe Rain 500฿.”
“You guys had a bet going?”
Mork nods, disgruntled. “He bet me I couldn’t last six months looking like a mushroom.”
“Then wait until it’s been six months,” Sun tries to persuade but the expression on Mork’s face tells him he’s not backing down.
“It’s almost summer. I’m going to suffocate under all this mess.”
It’s probably true, Sun hadn’t realised Mork could have so much hair.
Sun pouts, Mork’s hand cupped in his own.
“Don’t cut your hair. Please,” he moans. “Please, pretty please, Mork.”
Mork shoves him away with his elbow, like Sun’s whining is the most annoying sound on planet Earth -it probably is- and says, “Give it a rest,” reaching for the doorknob.  
Mork keeps the topknot in even after Rain outwardly cackles in his face and Sun follows him around for the entire morning sulking. He switches between pleading aloud and throwing him sad puppy eyes whenever their eyes meet but to no avail.
Sun is thoroughly heartbroken when Mork unties his apron and grabs his wallet and bike keys from behind the counter just after one in the afternoon.
Almost an hour later he comes back with decidedly less hair and less curls than he’d had that morning. It's a shade or two darker without the sun lightened ends. Neat at the back and longer on the top, catching on his eyelashes and Sun carefully pushes the fringe from his eyes. 
It’s still just as fluffy.
“How does it look?” There’s a hesitance to Mork’s words, a nervousness about the way he holds himself.
Despite being in a state of mourning, Sun can’t help the smile that spreads across his entire face. He doesn’t deny Mork looks breathtaking. He twists his boyfriend around, hands on his hips so he can tie the apron around at his back.
“You have a tan line on the back of your neck,” Sun tells him with a small chuckle, brushing his fingers over the pale skin at his nape as he ties a knot in the neck of the apron “You look very handsome, boyfriend,” he whispers into his ear.
Mork smirks at him when they’re back facing each other, slipping something into Sun’s hand. “500฿ says you can’t pull off a top knot.”
Sun opens the hand as he walks away. It’s the hair tie Mork had had in earlier and he grins, eyes following his neatly trimmed boyfriend across the cafe.
“Oh, you’re on.”
3.
The sight of the bandage around Mork’s hand makes Sun’s stomach drop to the floor. Especially when Rain trails into the cafe behind him with a sullen expression and a split lip.
Sun forces air into his lungs, taking a slow and calculated breath before he does something stupid like start throwing accusations around before he knows the full story. He’s made that mistake one too many times. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like throwing up as his brain leads him to the most obvious places when the two boys shuffle towards him.
“We know what this looks like,” Rain starts and the sound of his voice alone makes Sun jump out of his skin.
“And what does it look like?” Sun asks, his voice more level than he would have thought.
He clenches his jaw, preparing himself for the worst but hoping for something better. A good excuse at least.  
“P’Sun, it’s not what you think,” Rain assures. “I promise.”
Mork glares at him, looming large while Rain shrinks under his gaze. A stiffness that falls over the cafe, like time gets stuck and Sun can hear his own blood pumping in his ears.
“It was an accident-”
Mork throws his unbandaged hand at the back of Rain’s head making him yelp.
“Dude, what was that for?” Rain rubs the back of his skull. “I said I was sorry.”
“For the tetanus shot.” Mork wacks him again, gaining another yelp. “And that’s for the stitches.”
Sun puts down the tray he’s holding -it’s starting to wobble- and places his hands on his hips as he waits for the full explanation. Eyebrows raised, looking between both boys.
“I was using a saw in the workshop and this idiot,” Mork growls, “Decided it would be hilarious to jump out behind me. You’re lucky I didn’t slice my whole hand off and make you eat it, asshole.”
Rain’s eyes widen and he shudders, knowing his friend isn’t kidding. Sun is still trying to digest the part about the saw.
“What happened to your face?” he asks instead, working himself up from the smallest injury.
Sun highly doubts Mork punched his best friend, but it’s nice to have confirmation. Even if it sounds like Rain deserved it.
“He jerked his elbow into my face when I jumped him,” Rain complains, poking the cut with his tongue like he’s the terribly injured party in the whole thing.
“Be grateful P’Sun made me promise not to use violence anymore.” Mork clenches his good fist. “Otherwise you’d be scraping yourself off that saw.”
“Mork, darling,” Rain pouts.
Mork raises his hand, looking like he’s about to give Rain another head wack when Rain’s phone starts ringing -they all know who it is- and he skulks off to the side to answer it.
“Manow,” he whines into the phone. “Mork’s scolding me.”
Mork’s nostrils flare, glaring holes in the back of Rain’s skull as he walks away towards the stairs, trailing his backpack along the floor as he goes.
“Come with me,” Sun says, grabbing Mork’s arm and tugging him towards the couch by the window of the cafe.
He makes Mork sit down and gingerly takes his hand in his lap, holding it with the lightest touch, unsure where the injury is specifically under the thick bandages that go from his wrist to the knuckles of his fingers. Stark and white, contrasting with Mork’s tanned skin.
“It’s fine, I went to the clinic on campus,” Mork says, answering the question Sun hasn’t even asked yet.
Sun winces, looking from Mork’s face to the bandages. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s okay. Just a scratch,” Mork shrugs, letting Sun hold his hand without complaint. “The nurse said to keep it dry and change the dressings tomorrow.”
Sun furrows his brow, studying Mork’s face for a moment. He reaches out to feel Mork’s forehead with the back of his hand.
“You look pale,” he says, despite not finding much -or anything- of a fever.
“There was a lot of blood,” Mork comments flippantly like it’s the most throw away thing in the world.
“You said it was fine!” Sun scolds.
“It is.” Mork taps him on the cheek. “You worry too much, P’.”
“You make me worry.” Sun tuts, pursing his lips and he brushes his thumb over the edges of Mork’s bandage. “Don’t do any lifting with this hand, and make Rain clear your tables.”  
“No arguments from me,” Mork shrugs.
“Sit down if you feel lightheaded.”
“Anything else?”
“Don’t scare me like this again.”
Mork’s face curls into an all too pleased smirk, “You thought I’d punched someone, huh?”
Sun weighs up his options of telling the truth verses how effective a bold face lie would be.
“You really have so little faith in me?” Mork questions, because apparently Sun took too long to decide his silence is answer enough.
“No,” Sun pouts. “But you can’t blame me.”
Mork huffs a short laugh. “Well, at least you didn’t yell at me before hearing me out.”
“It’s progress?” Sun offers with a weak grimace.
“Sure, P’. Whatever you say.” Mork pushes to stand, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going to go get changed before my shift.”
“Yell if you need help,” Sun says, and he’s not even being naughty.
“I cut my hand, not had my arm amputated. I think I’ll manage.”
“Tell Rain he’s on toilet duty for the rest of the month for his sheer stupidity.” And for giving him a mild heart attack.
“You’re the boss,” Mork mock salutes him.
Sun sighs, lying back against the couch. Those two idiots are going to be the death of him.
4.
“What’s this?”
Sun holds the pendant around Mork’s neck. It’s hard to see in the dim lamp light as Mork looks down from on top of him, the chain hanging in the air inches from Sun’s face. He knows instantly it’s different than the dog-tag Mork has always worn.
“It was cheap at the market,” Mork mumbles. He leans down, the metal pendant cold as it touches Sun’s skin and they share a chaste kiss.
“Is it what I think it is?” Sun breathes when they pull apart and Mork threads his fingers into Sun’s hair.
“Like I said, it was cheap.”
“It’s a sun,” Sun says.
“I thought it looked cool, don’t read too much into it.”
“You’re wearing my namesake around your neck?” Sun hums, not ready to let it go.
“It was a happy coincidence.”
“Some would call that fate,” Sun muses.
“You’re so cheesy.”
Sun grips the pendant and pulls Mork back down into him. He tastes of the hot chocolate Sun made for him downstairs before they clumsily stumbled up to the bedroom.
“Did you choose it for me?”
“If I say yes will you shut up, P’?”
Mork doesn’t wait for an answer before nuzzling into Sun’s neck, placing soft kisses from his ear down to his collarbone. He doesn’t like leaving bruises. He’s much more tender and gentle than Sun would have ever imagined but he loves it. Adores it. How careful Mork holds him despite the strength in his hands.
“Yes,” Mork admits between kisses. “It’s for you,” he murmurs. “Sap.”
“It suits you,” Sun tells him, bliss swelling from his chest as he trails his hands over Mork’s shoulder blades. “I love you,” he says, breathless and content.
Mork doesn’t return the sentiment in actual words, but the tenderness he gives Sun that night is more than enough.
5.
Sun almost falls over a chair when he sees Mork coming down the stairs.
It’s the cafe’s grand reopening after Sun decided it was a good idea to remodel the whole place after the new year. Luckily he has a boyfriend and a brother, both of whom are good with power tools and a paint roller between them.
Sun had attempted to make himself useful over the last several weeks, but he was quickly demoted from project leader to the mere drinks maker when the two delinquents in his care pointed out that there’s a reason why Sun is a barista and not a carpenter.
Rain whistles behind him, eyes on Mork as well as he approaches, grabbing himself a glass of champagne -the cheap stuff, Sun was poor before the remodel, now he’s bankrupt- on the way.
Sun has so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do to this boy.
“You own a suit?” he manages to squeak out and he’s worried if he grips his own champagne flute any tighter it will shatter.
“I didn’t before today,” Mork shrugs, sipping his alcohol.
“You look…”
Sun trails his eyes over Mork’s form from head to toe. Mouth salivating. Mork is dressed in a royal blue suit with a pointed black collar, a black shirt, and matching tailored pants. He’s even wearing patent dress shoes and they shouldn’t be sexy but for a boy who wears nothing but faded henleys and Vans sneakers, it’s everything Sun never knew he wanted until now. He wants to rip the jacket from his muscular frame and weave his way into his neatly buttoned shirt.
“P’? P’Sun?” Mork clicks his fingers in front of his face. “You okay?”
Sun blinks, looking at his glass and wondering how much he’s drunk this evening.
“Huh, what?”
“You’re drooling,” Mork says, and Sun reaches for his chin so fast he almost slaps himself in the face.
He is in fact drooling. The corner of his mouth a tiny bit damp from saliva. And he’s supposed to be the dignified one.
“Are you having a stroke?” Mork sniggers.
“Maybe,” Sun admits, fingers reaching out to smooth the slight kink in the shoulder of Mork’s jacket. “You look incredible.”
Mork smiles, “You don’t look so bad yourself, I guess.”
Sun looks down at his own attire. He’s also wearing a suit, but it's grey and boring and he feels a little underdressed as the host now he’s standing beside his boyfriend, adorned in blue that brings out the golden flecks in his eyes and matches with the new blue of the Blue Sky Cafe.
“Do me a favour?”
“Mh?” Mork hums.
Sun leans in closer, his warm breath next to Mork’s ear, the scent of his cologne warm and woody. “Keep the jacket on until I take it off you later,” he whispers.
Mork chuckles, draining the rest of his glass.
Sun suddenly wishes the party was over and he could have his way with his impossibly suave boyfriend.
+1.
It’s late. The moonlight casts a haze over the otherwise dark room, the curtains blowing in the cool breeze from the open window.
Sun is lying on his front facing the wall, arms tucked under the pillow and his cheek smushed into the fabric. He blinks, wondering what woke him from his slumber. It feels like hours have passed but given how black the sky is, it’s probably been less than one.
He feels a faint touch on his left shoulder blade. Warm fingers moving over his skin and the markings there. They swirl with the lightest trace along the intricacies of the lines, so gentle it makes the hairs on Sun’s neck stand on end. The once rigid hands moving with ease and grace, outlining the black markings with beautiful familiarity.
Sun keeps still and lets himself enjoy it for a while longer. Quiet moments like these are precious to him.  
“Are you having fun?” Sun asks against his pillow eventually.
“Mh,” Mork hums, unsurprised he’s awake. “I like it.”
Sun turns his head so he’s facing the room and more specifically, the boy beside him in his bed.
“Nong Mork,” he smirks. “Are you flirting?”
Mork tuts. “You wish.”
Sun takes a moment to study his face. 
“Everything okay?” he asks, “It’s late.”
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing to worry about, old man.”
Sun huffs a quiet laugh, fondness spreading throughout his chest. He turns his body over and rests his head on his hand as his eyes adjust to the dark room and the features of Mork’s face become clear.
“What’s so funny?” Sun asks when he notices the faint smirk across his pink lips.  
“Still hard to believe you have a tattoo.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re so vanilla.”  
Sun won’t deny he makes every effort to live his life with the safety bars firmly locked in place.
“I wasn’t always,” he says, finding Mork’s hand on the sheets and lacing their fingers together.
Mork snorts. “I can’t picture that either.”
“I was worse than you, trust me.” Sun studies Mork’s fingers. They’re softer than they used to be. “I put my father through hell.”
“So the tattoo was at the height of your teenage rebellion?”
Sun shakes his head, “No, that was just before I opened the cafe actually. I’d got my act together by then but I thought it could bring me good luck.”
“That sounds even harder to believe,” Mork says. “That you would waste money on a stupid superstitious tattoo when you were trying to open a coffee shop.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Sun counters. “I have a coffee shop and I even gained a boyfriend because of it.”
Mork pushes him on the shoulder. Sun knows if he turned the lamp on he’d see the boys cheeks flushed.
“Did it hurt?”
“I suppose.” He doesn’t remember actually. It wasn’t a pleasant time in his life and he regrets not getting it when he was in a better place. It’s worked out in the long run but it's taken a long time for him to look over his shoulder without his chest aching.
“Did you cry like a big baby?”
Sun chuckles. “It hurt a lot less than when you’re applying antiseptic to my face.”  
“Where did you get it done?”
“Some place my friend's brother owns,” Sun says, twisting the silver ring around Mork’s thumb. A gift for the News Years just gone. “Why are so curious all of a sudden?”
Mork shrugs. “Thinking about getting one.”
“Really?” Sun says, surprised.
“I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Just never had the spare cash to pay for it.”
“Where would you get it?”
“I wanted something on my arm for a long time.” Mork traces their entwined hands on the inside of his forearm, just below his elbow. “But I guess it would be better if I got it somewhere hidden.”
“I like that,” Sun tells him with a knowing look. Thinking about being the only one that would have the privilege of seeing it. “But it’s up to you. It’s your body.”
Mork blinks at him, looking like he’s taken aback slightly at Sun’s words.
“Did you expect me to talk you out of it?” Sun guesses with a smirk. “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite don’t you think?”
Mork huffs. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
He has a point.
“Do you have a design in mind?”
“Haven’t thought that far.”
“We could get one together?” Sun grins, waggling his eyebrows.
Mork’s eyes widen and he looks mindly horrified for a second before he narrows his brow and glares. “I’m not getting a couples tattoo with you.”
“It would be cute.”
“It would be over my dead body.”
“Fine,” Sun grumbles, pouting. “Will you tell me? If you decide what you want?” He doesn’t like the idea of Mork slipping off by himself and coming back with a fresh bandage and a sore patch of skin.
“Sure,” Mork says.
Sun looks over at the pile of clothes scattered across his bedroom floor starting at the door.
“Do you know where my t-shirt is? I’m cold,” he pouts, hoping the look is enough to get Mork to reach for it.
The boy just sighs, tilting his head and not falling for it as Sun would have liked. There’s a hint of something he can’t quite put his finger on in Mork’s eyes however. Disappointment, maybe?
Sun raises his eyebrows. “Unless you plan on admiring my stupid superscician a little longer?”
“Shut up.”
Sun bites his lower lip. “You like it that much?”
“So what if I do?” Mork says, rising to the challenge.
“Nong Mork,” Sun teases, squeezing his fingers to clasp the boy's hand a little tighter.
The boy glares, but there’s no heat behind his eyes. “I think I preferred it when you were sleeping.”
“Then let’s sleep,” Sun says, tugging his hand until he begrudgingly lies down. “I love you,” he murmurs when they’re facing each other.
“Mh,” Mork hums in return. “You’re going to wear that phrase out.”
“Maybe I’m saying it enough for the both of us.”
It’s not a dig. He knows how Mork feels, in fact he knows how the boy feels before he knows it himself. It’s just he’s more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy and Sun can’t help but admire him for it.
“Night, P’.”
Sun brushes the fallen hair from his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Mork.”
He feels Mork shuffle closer, not touching, because Mork isn’t a cuddler, at least not for longer than five seconds under extreme circumstances. But he’s close enough that Sun can feel the heat of his bare skin and the warm breath from his lips.
Sun wants to lean over and place a kiss on that pink mouth, but Mork looks tired and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment of quiet stillness that settles around them. And so Sun closes his eyes to the boy's soft face and lets himself drift off, knowing by the sounds of the slow breaths, Mork is already ahead of him.
~Fin.
189 notes · View notes
rolypolyeolie · 4 years
Text
know [optional bias]
optional bias (male) x female reader
genre: smut (pwp), some angst, a LOT of fluff in that precise order
established relationship? fwb au???? anyway, they’re already a thing
warnings: penetrative sex, some sweet sweet lovemaking, some pillowtalk (but not actually on pillows :///)
a/n: found this in my drafts from some time ago???? i remember that i didn’t finish ot because it was a little too cheesy or whatever but i actually like it a lot??? 
i really want to finish my vixx aus but i’m hella tired these days, and i guess most of you probably are as well. stay strong everyone, this cold and grey winter will be over soon. 
His fingers slide in between hers and she feels her stomach flip as he gently holds her hand. He leaves kisses along her collarbone, rolls his hips into hers, looks at her like she just hung the stars in the sky and when she moans his name so feebly he wonders if he really heard her or if he imagined it. 
She runs her fingers along his ribs, up his spine, through the hair at the back of his head ; he closes his eyes as she applies pressure there, urging him to let her hold him just a little closer. If that’s possible.
“I've missed you”, she whispers, and he grinds a little harder, hits a little deeper, feels his heart grow bigger and fonder and he thinks he's making this up in his head because it's too beautiful to be true. She's too beautiful to be true. 
“I love you,” he breathes out against the skin of her neck ; and in response she holds him closer, tighter. 
His hips move a little faster, still gentle, but way more intense. His mind get more and more clouded by the second and the only thing he can think of is her, her, her, and those three words he just said.
It consumes him whole when she locks her ankles behind his back and she says "say it again,” like she needs it to breathe. He kisses her skin fervently, feels his whole being tremble as he chokes on his words. He says it again, and again, and again. 
“I love you,” he whispers a thin thread of saliva linking his bottom lip to her reddened collarbone. “I love you,” he moans just below her ear when she whimpers his name following a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. “Fuck, I love you. I love you so much, it's killing me,” he says, voice cracking as he looks into her eyes. 
“Mine,” she whispers when he rests her forehead against hers, craddling his face with both hands. 
“Again,” he near growls, tightly shutting his eyes. His hips suddenly pick up the pace, moving in faster, sloppier circles. 
“Mine, all mine. My love. My sun. Mine, and mine only. I- Fuck, [B,N], I love you." 
His mind goes blank as he comes to the sound of her broken confession, jaw clenched and fingers white knuckling the pillow under her head with one hand, and her shoulder with the other. It's mind-blowing, feels neverending leaves him breathless. 
He rolls his hips into hers, slowly, deeply, riding out his orgasm and relishing into her whispered “I’ve got you, baby”s and sweet shushes.
His arms give up under him after a few drawn out seconds and he falls on top of her, face buried in her hair. He feels hers in the crook of his neck, breathing deep, gentle breaths. Her lips peck his skin, her hands stroke his back, gently. 
And then, suddenly, as he takes yet another breath in to try and come down from his height, he surprises himself when a sob escapes from deep within his chest. His heart is aching, his lungs feel like they can't hold any air in for more than half a second. He cries into her hair, silently, and this, too, feels neverending. And it doesn't help that she doesn't stop holding him. She keeps stroking his back, keeps kissing his neck and shoulder. 
He uses whatever strength he still has in himself to sit up on the side of the bed, discards his condom a little messily, unable to see past the veil of tears blurring his vision entirely.
He can't stop crying, doesn't know how much he's pent up up to this point to feel so broken. He's had good fucks ; exhausting fucks that have left him crying and unable to move a limb for a few hours ensuing. It's even happened with her, once. But never had he made love like that before. Not to her, not to anybody. 
Maybe that's why it all feels so heartbreaking. Because he realises that his heart is in her hands, that she holds it between those pretty fingers of hers and keeps it beating, and could oh so easily tear it apart. He knows she won't, because she's a gentle soul, and she loves him like he never allowed himself to feel loved, like he's never allowed himself to love. And now he wants to. 
“Baby,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he blows his nose with a tissue he grabbed from the box that was resting on her bedside table. Thank God she had forgotten to remove it from there after she recovered from her cold a few days ago, because his nose was starting to run and it was about to ruin the beauty of the moment. 
She examines his face for an instant before smiling a little sheepishly. 
“That good, huh?” 
He laughs, hiding his face in his hands. When he uncovers it, his cheeks are a cute shade of red, matching the tips of his ears. Maybe it’s from all the crying, maybe it’s because he’s actually really embarrassed about the fact that he just had a crying fit after sex.
“Yeah, that good,” he jokes back, still unable to bring himself to look at her.
She pulls at his shoulders and he slowly lets himself fall back against her, enjoying the warm feeling of her chest against his ribs.
A few more seconds pass by, and he gets that she isn’t saying anything so he doesn’t feel pressured to talk about it if he doesn’t want to. Instead, she peppers kisses into his hair, lets him play with her fingers distractedly.
He takes his time, listens to her soft breaths, closes his eyes everytime he hears the faint smack of her lips against his scalp. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Not because he’s afraid she’s going to get scared ; but because he’s afraid he will.
“I just...” he pauses, his eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers. “I meant it, you know?”
“That you love me?”
“Mh, that I love you.” he hums, his eyebrows furrowing. Now that he’s actually talking, that he knows she’s listening, it all feels less scary. “I used to feel like... You may have been too good for me. That... at some point you were gonna find someone funnier, more handsome or some shit like that. You’re just so lovable I couldn’t help but think someone would snatch you away and do it better than me, at some point.”
“And now?”
“Now... I just... I know.”
“You know...?” She frowns a little and he hums.
“I know I want to believe you love me as much as I love you. That you want me to hold on to you like I want you to hold on to me.”
There’s a long pause following that, but it doesn’t scare him. He didn’t feel her tense up, didn’t feel her fingers stop or even stutter on top of his hand. No, her hand is still caressing his, her breathing is calmer than it’s been in the past thirty minutes. The only thing that’s changed is the frantic beating of her heart against his back. He smiles a little, happy but also proud of the effect of his words on her.
Suddenly, he hears her sniffling and almost gives himself whiplash as he turns his head to look at her. She laughs before he can and slaps him in the shoulder. 
“Now I look dumb too. That’s all your fault.” She says, voice shaking a little, but still smiling.
“...Too?” He asks, a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “I though you’d find it... endearing.”
Laughing along with her as she wipes away her own tears, he twists his body and pushes her back against the mattress. Smiling, he kisses her nose, her cheekbones, her temple, her forehead (he takes his time there, rubs his nose up to her hairline then down again, sighs in content when her hands travel from his ass to his shoulders, squeezing the numb muscles there), her other temple, her lips. She smiling up at him, beaming almost. It takes him a few seconds to realise he probably is doing the same. 
Sighing, he lets himself fall to the side, completely spent. He reaches out to stroke his cheek, but she grabs his hand before he can touch her, and gently kisses his wrist.
They don’t talk again for a few long minutes, tired, fucked out, and in love. It doesn’t matter that they don’t voice their feelings, whether it is their thoughts or their love for one another. 
But it doesn’t matter. Because their eyes, the touches they share say it all. They don’t need to speak ; they know.
862 notes · View notes
imaginesmai · 4 years
Text
Peter Parker - See the light (7)
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Is it a bit shorter? Yes. Is it a bit more sentimental? Of course. Be prepared! If you know the film, this goes a little bit different, becuase Peter deserves some love!
Small sneak peek 
First part
Second part
Third part
Fourth part
Fifth part
Sixth part 
Plot: after all this years, you’re finally going to fulfill your dream. Having Peter by your side is surely the best way to do it.
You had some expectations for the kingdom, but that didn’t help your jaw form dropping when you finally caught sight of it. You were completely speechless. You didn’t bother to pick up your hair as you bounced as quickly as you could across the stone bridge and towards the kingdom. The sun beamed down, and distantly, you could hear the sounds of music drifting through the air.
Peter, who had been holding your hand the whole trip there, let his smile drop. He wasn’t fond of the city, where all of his dreams and hopes had been crushed. Still, he let himself be pulled along by you.
When you entered the kingdom limits, you were immediately surrounded by people. The city seemed to be throwing some magnificent festival. A child ran by you, and you watched as he knelt in front of a huge mural on a wall close by. A man and a woman were depicted in the painting – both standing tall and regal. Both also incredibly beautiful.
In the woman’s arms, was a tiny baby. She had long, curly hair, big bright eyes and looked happy; with a piece of jewellery on her head that looked far too big. The kid placed a small flower in front of the mural.
“For the lost princess” he mumbled.
You were about to go over and ask what he was doing, when a particularly hard tug on your scalp made you lose Peter’s grip and reel back, yelping. Looking back, you saw people stepping all over your hair, and soon you lost Peter trying to avoid all that tugging. The boy immediately lunged forward and started picking it all up, his arms quickly filling.
Peter looked around for a split of second before smiling. He moved your hair and you walked with him, rubbing the back of your head painfully.
“Hey kids!” Peter called out, catching the attention of a group of small girls. He didn’t say anything, just showed them his hands full of hair. He raised his brows, and the girls shouted in excitement.
Soon enough, you were sitting on the cobblestone while five girls ran around you, braiding your hair and lessening the weight. Peter sat besides you all the time, talking about everything and nothing. He told you about the memories he had there, facts about some places and explained some things you still didn’t understand.
When you were finished, you span around. Your hair was collected in one big braid, formed with smaller ones that had pretty flowers and ornaments in between. It almost reached the floor, but it wasn’t long enough for people to step on it. Peter babbled all the way while he payed the girls and tried to tell you how pretty you were. After some embarrassing tries, he gave up.
“I could show you what this festival is really about” Peter offered you his arm, blushing. “Y-you’re, well, you… you’re already the prettiest girl here. W-would be, uh, a shame if I d-didn’t show you o-off?”
That time, Pascal wasn’t close to stick his tongue on his ear, and Maximus was busy trying to watch out for crime. To Peter, you had always had some kind of special beauty; but there, morning sun just shinning for you and curious big eyes looking up to him, you looked ravishing.
Maybe, it was his chance to kiss you. He had never been too good with women, apart from the girl he had dated back then; MJ, threatening and self-sufficient. Peter had been the one guidable in that relationship; but now, he knew you knew nothing about them. Kissing you felt suddenly wrong, taking that from you, your first kiss.
So, swallowing down the urge of pressing his lips against yours, he took your hand back and starter walking towards the group of people who were dancing.
For the next hours, you danced. Peter taught you the main steps to the popular dance, and was by your side the whole time; holding you closer, spinning you around, laughing with you when you stepped on him. The sun slowly came down, as you learned more about the city. Peter bought you a small flag from a traditional post, and let you try every food you found on your way.
Maximus and Pascal appeared long into the day, when you were hanging from Peter’s arm. To end the night, the boy had decided to surprise you. You were laughing with him when suddenly you stopped. The sun was setting and you were in front of the water.
“What is this, Pete?” you asked.
“Best day of your life. Thought I might give you something to remember your birthday.”
Peter gestured to a rowboat tied close by. Maximus huffed behind you, and Pascal frowned. Together, you climbed inside the boat and watched as Peter showed you how it moved. The animals emitted some noises.
“Here, fetch” Peter said with a grin. He threw an apple onto the dock, landing at the horse’s feet. When it didn’t make a move to eat it, Peter continued. “If you’re worried  about if being stolen, don’t be!”
Maximus still glared at Peter, but ate it anyway.
“Besides” Peter said, leaning in so only you could hear him. “He already ate all the stolen ones”
You laughed, and Peter smiled. It was silent for a while, only interrupted by your occasional offer to take the paddles. He used that time to think that, if there was a thing that he could do until he died, it would be spending every minute and second by your side. The girl that had managed to steal his broken heart and fix it.
When Peter stopped the boat, it was dark. The moon and the starts were being reflected on the water, and the lights of the kingdom could be seen in the distance; besides that, you were barely able to see his face. You had your doubts about the final ‘surprise’, and were a bit nervous about not being able to see the flying lanterns because of it. Yet you trusted Peter, and if by any chance you lost the opportunity to see them, but got to watch him talk excitedly for another hour, it was okay. You weren’t going to ask for a better birthday present.
“I – uh, it’s a bit soon” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really measure the time. I thought –“
“It’s okay” you leaned forward and took his hand in yours. “We can wait”
“Mh” Peter didn’t say anything else, but stared at your hands.
In comparison, yours were much more soft, and perfect. His were full of scars – at least one of them – and bruises. You watched him fight with his mind for a while.
“I had fun today. A lot” you smiled, even if he wasn’t looking at you. “The dancing was – wow, I didn’t know something so wonderful existed. I want to repeat that again.”
Peter’s head rose up at your words, and he looked surprised. Against what you thought, Peter hadn’t forget about the deal; you watching the flying lanterns, and him getting his crown back. But, against what your mother thought, it wasn’t his only intention. Everytime he thought about you, he thought about the possibility of staying. Of actually staying with you for the long run.
He could see how much your mother had hurt you over the years, and secretly hated the idea of you going back to the tower. Peter wondered that, maybe, if he could keep you away with the money he got from the crown. Selling it would be difficult, but worthy if it gave him the chance of having a future with you.
His interests, his dreams, had changed; he no longer wanted the sunny island with loads of money. In his opinion, a crazy chameleon and a girl with magic hair was enough, wherever that was.
You took his silence as something negative, so you frowned and your shoulders slumped.
“Not that I could” you looked down. “Mother will be worried, and tonight are the flying lanterns. So tomorrow morning I –“
“You could stay with me” Peter blurted out. He worried not being enough for you, but a future with your mother could only be worse. He shifted towards you. “I know – I don’t have much, but it’s better than being locked in a tower”
You blinked surprised at his confession, and gaped. The world seemed more illuminated, or maybe it was just your eyes being used to the dark. But you could see every detail on Peter’s face; from his little, almost invisible, mole under his left eye, to the way his thin brows couldn’t stay neat. He had his jaw clenched hard, lips pressed in a thin line. And his brown eyes, burning with hope and determination, were boring into you.
Peter didn’t let you talk.
“Don’t answer me now” he rushed, and brought his hand to his lips. He was blushing, yet held a confidence that made you blush. “Just – think about it”
You were going to ask him how were you supposed to sit in an unmoving boat, with him and no other distraction, and say nothing about it. But soon, the first two lanterns appeared floating through the air, and your breath caught in your throat.
You knew what came next.
The air is suddenly flooded with hundreds upon hundreds of lights, all of them much bigger and brighter from the ones you saw from your window. The world glowed, and you felt content. Happy, because it was everything you had hoped for; just as you thought so, you turned to look at Peter.
He was already looking at you with a half-smile, and two lanterns of his own. The boy moved so that you could also fit on his side of the boat, and you sat beside him. Your shoulders brushed and his warmth evolved you.
“For you” Peter said softly, and gave you one. It had beautiful and elaborated purple draws, only matching the beauty of the moment and Peter turned his head and talked close to you. “Sometimes – you know, uh, sometimes you h-have to let go. Freedom is about letting go, Y/N”
Everything that had been built for years, locked on the tower and dreaming of the lanterns, broke up that night. Maybe it was because of his words, because of the encouragement and the possibility of taking your on decision of them. Your fingers un-curled around the bottom of the lantern when Peter leaned forward, tilting his head so that your noses didn’t touch, but your lips did.
The lantern wasn’t being held down anymore, as your fingers lost strength when Peter kissed you. And Peter’s one flew away, because he used his hands to cup your cheek and search for your own. Both of the lights became one of the flying mass that commemorated the missing princess. To them, might had been only another year of flying lanterns.
To you, was letting go of the weight that had chained you to the tower for years. The pain, the fear, it all melted away as Peter pulled you close, and crashed his lips with yours once more.
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124 notes · View notes
lamalefix · 4 years
Text
A whisper of smoke 2/5
[Buddie fic; Heavy Angst; Angst with a Happy Ending; Hurt/Comfort; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Established Relationship; Major Character Injury; Blood and Injury; Eddie’s POV; I don’t know how to English; I Don’t Even Know how to tag; I don’t even know why; Author.exe has stopped working]
read ch1
[read this work on ao3]
Eddie proceeds by the sheer force of inertia.
Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and it’s been months. In a blink of an eye and at the same time in what seems like an eternity, it’s been months. Something changed there’s a new life: Maddie and Chim’s baby girl, but something didn’t change.
He no longer sleeps. Or, at the very least, he’s exhausted when he wakes up every morning. Three hours a night is enough, three hours a night is enough to be able to work, the least that he can do at work. At night he reads scientific articles, inquires, studies, reviews, meta-analysis. And now he knows there was a woman in 2017 who recovered completely after a month-long coma after a severe cardiac arrest and hypoxia. And even if he knows Evan is out of time, but maybe he’s just as resilient. He read and re-read that article on communication in comatose patients, the one Evan read just before the fire, just before the accident, just before hell broke loose.
Everything changed in those months, and yet everything it’s still the same.
He goes to wake Christopher before turning in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and looks into the fridge and pantry, and decides that today is a good day to go shopping, he’ll go to the hospital in the evening before coming back home. Today needs to be a good day. Maybe he should also buy the pancakes mix, although Christopher has stopped asking for them by now, but maybe this is due to Eddie’s disastrous culinary ability rather than the fact that it was Buck who made him the best pancakes in the world. But Chirstopher will never say it aloud, rather his child who was once sunny preferred to stop asking. He stopped with pancakes, with movie nights, with ideas for school projects, all he does is play with his Lego and do homework in his room. He has stopped being the usual ray of sunshine, the usual cheerful and courageous child, he has lost that light in the eyes.
And Eddie’s heart became a little smaller and perhaps he just must find the courage to react, to take that step that is delaying and postponing and postponing, ignoring Maddie and what his conscience continue to suggest.
Days have passed. Weeks. Months.
Months, Dios.
He must find a way to get his shit together, to go on for him and for Christopher. For Christopher who does nothing but play with his Lego, do his homework and draw in his room, who has become quieter and has lost that sparkling light in his eyes. He no longer has nightmares, or at least they are not as intense as before, and not even so frequent, but he has lost that light in his eyes. And the only flash of joy is when he goes to visit Buck, in the hospital, in the hospital in a long-term intensive care unit that certainly isn’t a place for kids like him, and chooses his books and gets help to get on the bed as close as possible to Buck, and with a disconcerting delicacy he takes his place near his Bucky and begins to read, the book open for both to see. Even if Buck has his eyes closed.
But Eddie can’t let himself go, astray, he must stop feeling that way. He must go back to having control over his life, otherwise he will bring Christopher down too.
It was difficult to find the words, but Chris understood, because Christopher is so smart and resilient and is a fighter. And he said to Eddie with his big grey eyes, “Then let’s fight with him”.
“Mornin’ daddy” mumbles his child as he drags himself with the unmistakable ticking of his crutches in the kitchen. He is already fully dressed, and although he slept tonight, even his sleep doesn’t seem to have been restful, beneath the slightly fogged glasses there are dark circles under the eyes.
“Hey buddy! You are all ready for school!” he says ruffling his hair, deliberately upsetting something he has so painstakingly combed. He wants to see him laugh, he doesn’t want to think about his eyes that are so distant and empty and tired, he wants to get his son back.
“Oh, come on daddy...” Chris snorts, moving his hand, but squeezing his fingers in a comforting way. “I-I co-combed,” he mutters, chuckling, softly.
“Oh, I see it! That’s why I had to  you,” Eddie replies, smiling. "Come on, let’s have breakfast otherwise we arrive late to school and Miss Flores scolds me."
Christopher climbs the chair without too much effort, he’s grown a couple of centimetres in the last few months, and now these movements that were more tiring before, are way easier. He stretches to retrieve the cereal box and pours them into his cup.
“Here is the milk...” Eddie says, pouring a little over the cereals, and with his other hand she brings the sugar close to him. “Before going to work I’ll go shopping, do you have any special requests?” he asks.
And Christopher shakes his head. “C-Can we see a movie tonight?”.
Eddie smiles at him and reaches out to retrieve two tablespoons of cereal for himself. “Sure!”.
And Christopher’s eyes light up, shine like two little stars. “Really?”.
Eddie can only clench his jaw and pretend that the weird, painful thrill that gave him the unbelieving tone in Christopher’s voice is attributable instead to the coffee that returns hot and bitter in the throat. He heaves a small cough. “Sure,” he replies. “And we are together tomorrow too, I’m off… I received the newsletter from your school, there is an exhibition on the stars at the science museum, would you like to go?”.
Christopher smiles for a moment, but then his eyes turn sad, dull, empty.
“Hey, if you don’t feel like it, we’ll go again another time. We can have a quiet day only you and me. Maybe we can sleep late and play all day... maybe we can organize an exit to the park with Denny and Nia?” he mumbles.
Christopher shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, let’s go”.
“Great!” Eddie nods, jumping to his feet. “We have to hurry, you have to finish breakfast and brush your teeth. I’m going to prepare your backpack”.
“Everything is ready,” he replies.
“Oh really? But you’re all grown up then!” mutters Eddie bending over to kiss the top of his kid’s head. “Look here, you’ll grow taller than I am in no time!”.
Christopher snorts and continues to eat, without saying anything.
And Eddie maybe should go deeper, maybe he should ask him something, but for now he decides to let it go and let his son come to him. He never was a pressing father, he is apprehensive, but never pressing. “I’m going to finish getting ready, it will end up you’ll have to accompany me to work and do the shopping if you get so big all together!”.
Eddie slips into his room and finishes getting ready. He doesn’t look at the bed, at the absence in his bedroom, he decides to take a last look at the school newsletter. The science museum labs should give Christopher some light back, he likes the stars, or at least that’s what he thought a few nights ago, when he was in bed and couldn’t sleep. And all the videos on his phone, the videos of the three of them together, broke his heart again, the emptiness pressing in the bed, the silence so loud and oppressive in that room. He had found a good reason to avoid that particular activity, actually, that night, but right now he doesn’t remember what it even was. Perhaps because he has decided that today must be a good day, or perhaps because it was not a good reason, the one that he had found. It was just another way out, but for himself, not for his son, his marvellous and resilient son. In any case, he doesn’t remember now.
When he returns to the kitchen, he doesn’t expect to see Christopher staring at his cup still full of all moist cereals, the straw in his hands while his shoulders shake as he sniffs.
“Chris? Hey buddy?” Eddie calls him softly, and is a little afraid to identify how much his voice is trembling as he says his son’s name. “What’s going on, mijo?”
“I don’t want to go. At the museum… we… we had to go with Bucky” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, daddy but… but Bucky will enjoy it and… I like it when he explains everything and… and I want that, I want to wait for Bucky, can’t we wait for him?”.
And it is the first time he has seen him, his strong, beautiful kid, so broken, so shattered, so fragile. Small, so tiny, he sees behind that mask of strength and resilience that has been built around him or that perhaps is precisely his character. And then Eddie crouches next to him and embraces him, and his son breaks himself into a thousand pieces in his arms and cries louder and sobs and sniffles. Here was his good reason. They had to go with Buck. They even talked about it, about the exhibition about the stars with thematic workshops. One evening, while they were out in the backyard looking at the stars, Evan who, with his gentle low voice, had Christopher in his arms and pointed to the sky. And Eddie’s heart aches in his chest. He forgot. He forgot Evan, he forgot his soft smile when he said they could bring Christopher to the science museum.
“We won’t go there, it’s fine. Okay, let’s stay home tomorrow,” he replies, the air that scratches the back of his throat. “There is no hurry. We’ll go to the show when we’re ready, okay? When he comes back to us,” he says slowly. And he was so wrong to believe that they were ready for a good day, both of them. “Come on, finish eating, and let’s go. Or your teacher will be angry with me if we are late”.
“Can I go see him today?” Christopher asks quietly. “After school, it’s Friday so aunty Maddie doesn’t work today, can I go, dad?”. It’s like a plea, a prayer.
And Eddie nods. “Okay, after school you go read your book to him, huh?” he decides “Then I’ll come pick you up after work and we go eat a pizza, mh?”.
And Christopher lights up, as if he had told him something incredible, as if he had said that he would take him to a theme park, to Disneyworld or whatever it is. Instead, he only gave him permission to go to the hospital, to visit him.
 He drives silently, then, all the way from home to school, Christopher looks out the window and occasionally sniffs. He chose a book to read to Buck and put it in his backpack, before getting into the truck.
When they arrive at the school gates, his son takes the backpack and gets down without help.
Eddie bends down to hug him, as every time and Christopher strokes his cheek and looks him in the eye for a moment. “Be careful at work,” he says slowly, in a shaky voice.
This is a new thing that tells him since he has been in therapy or, better, since Buck is in the hospital. It’s all different, since Buck’s is there. And this little charm, his small words, murmured while he cups his cheek, are like a small blessing. Buck doesn’t have his back at work, but he can do it even without stretching out his hand to get Evan’s, he just needs to be careful.
Eddie mimics his gesture and strokes his cheek in return. “You pay attention at school,” he winks.
And Christopher snorts a small laugh and begins to stroll towards the entrance. “I am a good student!”.
Eddie doesn’t reply, while waits there see him enter and then he gets back in the car, but pulls straight in front of the supermarkets, he decides that he must see him today too, in the morning, before his shift. He too must go to Evan.
He sends a message to abuela, to ask her to do some shopping for him, which means that she will fill the fridge and the pantry with real things to clean, season, chop and cook like an adult, and a lot of homemade meals already ready to be put in the microwave. (He can already imagine Tìa Pepa groaning, but that’s okay).
And then he calls Maddie. He never calls her, they have a kind of silent non-aggression pact, they have divergent views on Evan’s condition and no, they don’t talk much.
Maddie’s speeches are yielding, they have the bitter taste of defeat. But she always likes to accompany Christopher to visit Evan.
“Eddie?” comes her voice.
“Hi Maddie, Christopher would like to come with you to the hospital this afternoon, if you’re available,” he murmurs, as monotonous as possible.
“Sure! Sure!” she says, her voice ringing. “Eddie, listen...”.
“I know, Maddie, I’m not ready” he mumbles softly. “I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want... I don’t want to, even think about it. I don’t” he adds more categorically.
“Eddie...” she sighs. “Let’s have coffee before you have to go to work, mh? You’re coming to the hospital, aren’t you?” and it’s rhetoric question, of course. When Maddie stays there at night, Eddie is the one who takes over in the morning.
 .
.
.
Eddie has never loved hospitals, and he is more than certain that anyone who has ever proclaimed said love has never found in a situation like his, like theirs.
It’s very hot in hospitals, and waiting rooms are always so oppressive, sick.
They all have that unmistakable smell of plastic and disinfectant, and scots pine to cover the stale smell. And no matter how accustomed he is to waiting, now, no matter how quickly his brain adjusts to the smells, and no matter how much he believed he would get used to spending hours in there, there is still that mixture of smells pinches his nose. And he decides not to focus on that stinging pain in his chest.
Hours have passed, days have passed, weeks have passed. And if Eddie really concentrates, he could even say how many minutes, how many seconds have passed since they brought Evan in there, in that hospital. Or at the very least since Eddie, after collapsing, woke up, half sedated in the triage area, a small concussion and some bruised ribs, the verdict of his condition. A week off. And he hoped he would bring Buck home with him at the end of the week.
Instead, that week went by followed by many, many others, and he sees people whirling and murmuring in that waiting room. His condition is a strange one, he knows and doesn’t know, altogether, how long he spends there in the waiting room. He could say he knows all those faces that move around him, all those voices, and at the same time he doesn’t know anyone. Or maybe he just recognizes nobody, other than the worried, devastated, tired expression that is perhaps the same one he wears.
Whichever time Eddie is there, every time they chase him out of the little room where Evan is sleeping, there is always a constant swirl of people. People who come and go, who are welcomed and accompanied by doctors and nurses, and every time Eddie sees a white coat, his heart jumps in his chest. In hope and fear, in fear and hope. He hopes that they tell him that he is awake, that he finally responds to treatment, that soon, soon they will finally see the end of this continuous limbo in which they find themselves. And he fears, with all that he has in his body, every inch of his skin, every little cell and its micro-organisms, he fears that they will tell him that there is nothing more to do, that their time together is over, no tomorrow.
And when someone speaks to him now, Eddie responds in monosyllables, he answers because he goes with the current, shipwrecked by that sea of unspoken things, of lost time, of decision made too late, of movements that he may had made wrong.
And if he closes his eyes he feels his presence, he feels strong and clear even when Eddie isn’t sitting in that oppressive little room in which they put him, in which he is all grey, including him who is usually colorful and flamboyant, who has that infectious smile and those warm hands, the cheerful eyes and the clear and strong voice, the chatter that fills the air are now just an old memory that digs inside him with such precision, with such diligence that it seems like a torture. And gradually his heart becomes smaller and smaller and his knees tremble, inciting him in his constant escape, even if he is motionless and stands there and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits.
For days, weeks, months, for so long it hurts.
 .
There is a moment, in the morning when he wakes up, those few times that he has the courage to go to bed, in their bed, that he forgets that absence. Because even if he isn’t there, even if Evan isn’t there at home with him, even if he is distant, and he sleeps and at the same time doesn’t sleep in a hospital bed, he is still so close. There is that moment, that wonderful and painful moment when Eddie doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember that he went to bed alone and that if he reached out, he would feel the mattress, the sheets, Evan’s place in the bed cold, so cold and empty. Perhaps it is because it’s their routine, his continual repetition of their routine, which anchors him to reality and also makes him live in a series of gestures, makes him retrace all those gestures that he hasn’t done for hours, days, weeks, months. And so he imagines, or maybe it is his brain that grants him this feeling of peace, he imagines that it is always one of those mornings in which they have more time, that they do not have to run to the truck and take Chris to school, and can afford a lazy morning in pyjamas, a pile of waffles, puffy and soft, in front of them on the coffee table, while more than looking at something they just browse the Disney + catalog and end up, like all the other times, looking at reruns of Avengers Assemble.
Then, then after that perfect moment of blissful ignorance, clouded by fatigue, he remembers that the bed is empty. And it’s been hours, days, weeks, months and the bed is always this cold. And hi breath hitches at the back of his throat.
Nobody can fix his heart, nobody can unbreak all those bits, nobody except Evan.
And that’s why he proceeds by the sheer force of inertia, the old routine that kicks to take back its rightful place. A few exercises in the morning, showering, breakfast, and in a hurry at school and then, if he has time, he can pay a quick visit to the hospital, before the shift at the station, like today.
And when his day is awful, and he can’t reach out and take Evan’s, because the shift is too long and he sleeps too little, and Buck is not there to make his day better, to tell absurd facts, talking continuously and filling his head with thoughts, stealing that little peck in front of the lockers, or chaining a series of kisses on his neck, as soon as they come back from a bad call, he goes over their morning routine again and again.
He retraces their morning routine, retraces every single step with his thoughts and does his best not to think, not to look at his hands, the blood that is encrusted in the beds of his fingernails, and at the same time too much time has passed for him to see it, but he feels like Lady Macbeth, and can swear he can still see those marks on his hands. And as much as he disinfected them, his hands, soapy and clean, in all those days, until they started to hurt, he can swear to still see the stains of his blood, crusted at the base of his palms.
And every time he thinks about their morning routine, then he comes to think about that push, Buck who kicked him out of that house just in time to prevent both of them from being crushed by debris. He goes through everything that happened afterwards, he thinks about the fact that maybe, with the right sling, with a rope, he could have thrown himself in there and pulled Evan out, intervening first.
And they needed to move quickly, because in these cases it is the timing that matters. A minute can change things. And they wasted time, they wasted a lot of fucking time. Dios.
And every time he hopes, that little, big selfish voice that murmurs under his skin, he hopes to have gotten Evan in the hospital in time, anyway. He hopes it for Evan and for his own heart, for Christopher and for Maddie, but above all because Eddie will never have the strength to overcome this thing. If he doesn’t come home, Eddie is done, finish, caput. And it’s not a figure of speech, because as long as Christopher isn’t big, and strong, and able to look after himself on his own, Eddie will have to continue to exist, his world will continue to turn as he did in that huge before, in that part of his life before Buck.
With Shannon it was already over when her life came to an end. But with Buck it was just started.
And Eddie could list them, the days they spent together. Nights, he could count them in his hair, he could remember them one by one. Every single moment since that evening, an evening like many others when Buck was at home, after a gruelling shift of thirty hours, and Eddie was at work instead. And Eddie had made a shitty, a very big shitty fucked up decision, which now he doesn’t even have the courage to remember. When he doesn’t think he usually makes fucked up moves, and this one he did to do his job, to be a hero, and maybe a jerk.
And it was like going back, like ending up in that fucking field hospital again, after the accident with the helicopter, it was like ending up on the ground with a series of burning wounds. He doesn’t remember it, and maybe this is other material for Frank, because he remembers everything else.
He remembers never having seen Evan so pissed, the halogen light of the hospital casting a golden glow behind him, he was quivering in anger while his eyes were shimmering with tears. And he remembers having thought, clearly that he looked like a kind of avenging angel, his giant-like physique broken by sobs while shouting at him, his hair curled in a corner, because clearly when they called him, he was sleeping.
That was when Eddie realized how beautiful Evan truly is. He had never thought anyone could seem so wonderful.
He remembers thinking he had wasted time, while his arms didn’t respond to him, while his body was unable to react, however much he wanted to hug him. And Eddie is certain that it was at that moment that he managed to give a name to what he felt, to what he feels even now. And maybe he asked himself or said it out loud, he doesn’t remember it, his heart on his lips, since when, Evan, how long have I fallen in love with you? And when Evan brought him home a few nights later, the two of them spoke. And their feelings found themselves halfway, in a gurgling of sounds never heard, in a rumbling of swearing and insecurities.
It was like finally getting home, his heart finally at peace.
And now…
.
.
The cafeteria at that time of morning is already full of people, doctors and nurses having breakfast, relatives who spent the night there, as Maddie did this time. She does it when she has the next day off, she gets off from work and goes directly there. Then in the morning someone usually takes over. Usually it’s Eddie who takes his place, sitting beside Evan and then when he has to go to the station leaves him with one out of Carla, abuela, Pepa, or Athena.
It doesn’t take long to find Maddie, she sits at the usual small table on the corner, in the corner of the two windows overlooking the prehensile garden of the hospital.
They talked several times there, every time Evan doesn’t respond to medications, every time there is a small improvement, every time he has a fever, every time he gets worse, every time he seems to get better. And they always end up talking about cutting off the life support, turning everything off and letting him go, letting him make one last heroic gesture. Let him donate his organs, because that’s reasonably what Evan wants.
“Hey,” she says, smiling, with that affable smile of hers, which must be a family trait, and gestures for him to take a seat in front of her. She has a takeaway cafe in her hands and another that is clearly waiting for Eddie.
“Maddie, thank you for bringing Chris here this afternoon.” murmurs. “I’ll take him back, when I get off work, today I have a short shift...”.
“Eddie,” she begins to say, holding out the other coffee to him. “I read the article you said, that one about brain activity and communication in comatose patients… and...” she sighs softly. “We can try, I thought we can try, we could ask the doctors to do that procedure, to let them perform an MRI, maybe tomorrow, so ... so we are present and...” she continues to say.
Eddie looks at her. And he knows it, that it hurts him as much as it hurts her to see Evan like this, so motionless, dull, empty, like a shell.
“But Eddie, you know that if they confirm that there is no more brain activity, we have to let him go, right?” she mutters, looking at him with her soft brown eyes. “He would like to donate his organs, saving lives in the process, his last heroic act. But I think he left us the choice” and before Eddie can object, argue, that he knows it, he knows that Buck would like to donate organs and save lives, and so on, Maddie continues “He wouldn’t want to live like that, attached to a ventilator, to leave us to dumbing down out of waiting... Eddie it’s been months, you know... the percentages... every single day he has very little chances, and yet I know, I know if one could survive this hell, this thing… that definitely is Buck.” she adds, looking down at her coffee.
“We have to fight,” Eddie declares, stoic. He doesn’t like resigned speeches like these.
“Eddie...” she calls him.
“We aren’t leaving him, not yet. The doctor said it, all the doctors who visited him... we are not sure... he... Evan is strong and...” he mumbles slowly, trying to keep calm, trying to keep calm because what she is saying, what she’s trying to say is… heinous, atrocious, excruciating. And Eddie doesn’t want to hear it. And anger mounts in his throat, a hallucinating, frightening anger. And in his heart he knows, what Maddie says, she says it because she loves him, as much as Eddie does, on a very different level but... but it’s throwing in the towel, it’s abandoning him, it’s letting him go. And it’s early, too early, and they had so little time together. And Eddie knows this isn’t going to last forever, but he just has to try. To do something about it. He never seems to do enough.
She purses her lips and heaves the air out in an almost irritated sigh. “Eddie ...”.
“We can’t abandon him, Maddie. We can’t stop fighting. Give him some time, give him some more time.” he says, and in his ears this rings like a prayer. “Please, Maddie. Let’s give it some more time”.
“Eddie you know, his condition... at the moment is...” Maddie stops and her voice trembles. “If we do this MRI thing and it confirm that there is no brain activity, we have to let him go,” she replies, a monotonous tone, such a resignation in her voice.
“But we don’t know yet, maybe they do this one more specific MRI and he reacts, so what do we do? The doctors said that we can’t know for certain, there was this case, this woman in 2017...” he begins to say but Maddie tries again to stop him.
“Eddie” she calls him again, moving her hands onto Eddie’s holding them for just a moment.
“No. No.” he replies, and maybe growls, maybe shouts. He doesn’t know it either, he only knows that his voice scratches his vocal cords, and it comes out strangled at the end. “You want to abandon him, you always leave him.” It gets away from his lips and he doesn’t have the courage, the strength, to look at her, after saying that bullshit.
Maddie moves back in her sit, and holds the cardboard cup in her hands, closing her eyes.
And Eddie has an immense need for air and really needs to start thinking before speaking.
“You’re right,” she murmurs in a whisper. Her eyes full of tears, before blinking and wiping the corners of her eyes with the fingertips. “You’re right I... I always leave him, I abandon him... I... I promised and yet… I’m giving up on him” she shakes her head. “We have to fight for him, with him. You’re right...” she nods. “But, we have to face reality, Eddie… if there is no brain activity, we have to follow what we know he would want, we have to...” she sniffles a bit and moves to retrieve a couple of napkins to wipe her tears off her face. “We love him so much Eddie, I know it. I know how much you and Christopher love him… how much the rest of the 118 love him… but we have to let him go, Eddie, to allow him to make one last heroic gesture. He... would be happy. Even if that means he’ll leave us, even if that means that at least half of our hearts will go with him”.
Eddie clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. He knows, he knows damn well that Evan would want that. “I just want more time, Maddie”.
“I also want that, you know. I want to see him happy with you, I want him to accompany me to my wedding. I want him to know my kids, when and if I’ll have them... I want a lot of things for him, I want him to be here when these things happen. I want... I want him to finally understand how important it is for all of us,” she adds and her eyes are all shiny, she wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes again, and sighs. “But, Eddie you know, you know he’s getting worse. He doesn’t react to somatosensory stimuli... he is no longer here” she finally says, her lips trembling and her voice breaking at the end.
“That woman too, in 2017, she also did not react yet...” he continues to say, this time in a whisper. In his head, his rationality murmurs that Maddie is right, but Eddie is selfish and he’s not ready. He never will be.
“Eddie,” she sighs, shaking her head.
“Give him some time, Maddie.” he murmurs. “We need time, Maddie”. And it sounds like I, I need time. And maybe as unspoken as it is, it’s true.
“Let’s do this test and that’s it, okay? It’s wearing us out, Eddie. It’s wearing him out. ” Maddie decides and swallows hard before standing up. “We have to start thinking about what he would like for us, as well as for himself... and while he’s slowly fading away, we are doing the same with him. It isn’t good for your son and it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t good for me. Knowing that he is, Eddie, he...” she shakes his head. “If there is no brain activity, we’ll let him go, and we’ll make him be the hero he is one last time”.
And Eddie would like to tell her that she can’t decide, for Evan and for himself, but in reality she has allowed Eddie to bask with his broken heart and in this abyss, in this dark and painful limbo, all this time. But he just nods. “It will be hard. But I’m good with bottling up everything”. He won’t need a heart anymore, if they’ll let Evan go.
“It will be hard,” she sighs. “You were the best thing that could happen to him, you know, right? But we can’t fight this battle for him”.
And Eddie purses his lips and gets up too, he has another place to go, perhaps for the last time. He bids her goodbye with a nod and tries not to feel how bad his heart hurts when it breaks, again and again.
.
.
.
It’s frightening how he knows that hospital by heart, now. And he could arrive in the waiting room without even thinking. He shouldn’t even stop by there and wait, he could just go in and go to him, but every time he stops there to collect thoughts and tries to pretend to be in control of this situation. As if Evan could see him, all broken like that or not.
And every time Eddie is there, that Eddie waits, no matter how much his legs tell him to run away, no matter how the voices of his insecurities, and all his unspoken words vibrate under his skin, it’s a continuous fluctuation of thoughts, memories and his head always goes to some fucking hideous place, then. After the calm there is always a storm.
Eddie has been present at countless deaths. First some of his closest relatives, who had left peacefully, the luckiest with so many happy years behind them, then civilians and soldiers, when the red sand burned his face and the air smelled like dust and flames, then of the victims, when it seemed that it could no longer hurt, and instead they still cloud some of his worst nightmares, the impotence of not being able to help them enough, to never be enough that still weighs on him.
Death first takes away the power to speak, people begin to rant, and perhaps he clearly remembers a young lieutenant on his first tour, when he was still not very familiar with the war zone, who had talked for hours without saying nothing, asking and asking and asking to bring it back to her. Whoever she was, until he lost his voice and the pain clouded his vision. His last words swallowed by the ventilator and the morphine. And then he stopped seeing, moving. The only thing that remains, until the end, and this he had discovered when he was still a child and his abuelo was dying in a hospital like this, is hearing. Even if the person has lost consciousness, it isn’t that unusual for familiar voices to elicit smiles or tears. Abuelo, a big persevering man, had listened until his last breath abuela’s sweet words, a 260 lbs and over 6 ft extremely severe man, had listened to abuela’s latest recommendations with a small smile on his lips, she had never said goodbye to him, only small recommendations as if he could be stubborn and uncooperative even in the afterlife.
And Eddie does not want to think about that terrible eventuality, which is more and more palpable, every day, the more hours pass and the more the abyss swallows him. In the continuous fluctuation of improvements, of high and inexplicable fevers, of positive responses to medicines, and rejections, of fingers that tremble when Eddie holds his hand, and sudden stillness, of those times that he seems about to wake up, and then nothing, his condition just worsens.
The only thing that matters is that he is still fighting, that the doctors still haven’t given up, they try and try to find a way to make him come back, but... but hope is scary, hope is scary and one shouldn’t never find himself in Eddie’s shoes, in Eddie’s very position, three steps back with someone, with Evan who would never want to go away who runs away from his hands, all that enormous love that slips between Eddie’s fingers.
Eddie has seen many, has seen more than he wants to admit, of wounds like Evan’s. And even if he wants to silence that voice, the field doctor in him knows perfectly well that if not treated quickly, sucking chest wounds can be lethal. Taking a quick first aid in the first few minutes and taking the injured person to the hospital can save lives and prevent long-term complications.
Evan came out on his shaking legs from that terrible hell, and now he is in danger of dying because they, because they didn’t move fast enough, they didn’t have the courage to run in there and get him out. Timing is important, and they’ve thrown everything, all of Evan’s efforts down the drain.
Eddie does everything to remain at the helm of his emotions and navigate calm waters, without having to go through them, those storms that cloud over the horizon, because if he were to give free rein to what he feels, the best thing that could happen to him is ending up in jail, after head-butting the centre of Bobby’s face. And this is the best-case scenario.
Because they wasted time and it’s Bobby’s fault. In every sense, that day, as before. They wasted time, a time that will never come back. And even if the doctors have been explicit, even if he knows those complications painfully by heart, those consequences, now more than he knew them before, with his work, with his previous life, he wants to ignore them.
Eddie definitely doesn’t want to think about the consequences, the complications, those horrible names they have, as they ring deep in his head. Because he is sure he has seen at least two or three symptoms of two or three different complications in an ambulance, and he doesn’t have the courage to remember. All that blood will cloud his nightmares for the rest of his life, that noise, that strangled noise of his breaking breath, his cough, will be forever in his mind, will accompany him for the rest of his life. And this is enough for him to have his sleep ruined forever, to no longer be able to work, to end up drifting, astray, he really doesn’t need to know anything else, to know more than he already knows, that the situation is a great fat mess and one has limited chance of surviving all that shit that is thrown at him. He must not think of whose fault it is, as far as he knows perfectly well that it’s theirs, that is all their fault. Them, who stalled, who waited too much, who could find a solution, but actually couldn’t.
But if one can get by, if one can survive all of this, that’s Buck. And if he struggles, if he struggles then they must fight too. But he almost immediately stopped reacting to stimuli, his electroencephalography, has only a couple of curled waves. And if Eddie would listen to his rationality, maybe he’ll just accept what Maddie has already accepted: the machines are what is keeping him alive.
But Eddie, Eddie who always runs away, is in for this fight.
And whatever happens tomorrow, whether there is brain activity or not, his life will return as before, as before Evan, or not. And as much as he wants to stay in control, he wants to stay at the helm, for himself and for Christopher, it’s so hard. Because if he loses Evan, he’ll lose himself a bit more.
 .
He already lost himself, a part of himself when the doctors came back that fateful day, when hell broke loose and Evan stopped breathing in the ambulance.
The doctors, an elderly sixty-something doctor with the solemn posture of someone who has seen these things a time too many, and a young surgeon instead, almost like a young girl just out of med school, with the flat and dim and tired expression of someone that puts everything she has in the job, they were very direct. They spoke with Maddie and with him the first time, and every subsequent time, with a certain kindness, they listened with kindness to the questions, which only Maddie asked, extremely punctual and technical, while grasping at Eddie’s hand firmly .
They talked about complications, all with high-sounding and frightening names. They spoke about pneumothorax, pleural effusion, a perforated and collapsed lung, they spoke of respiratory and cardiac arrest. They talked about further surgeries, which were necessary, but he was too fragile back then, he and his athletic six feet tall body was too fragile and might not survive. They spoke about saturation, about pressure, spills, transfusions, and cardiac activity. They talked about the need to defibrillate him, several times, because at least twice he flatlined but came back, Evan came back. They spoke about ataxia, hypotension, fluids that have accumulated in the chest cavity, and something that has a chilling and frightening name, something that concerns the brain and doesn’t give much hope, hypoxia. They talked about damage to vital organs, heart, and lungs. They spoke about the accumulation of smoke.
And they used, they still use, all those medical terms that are monotonous on paper only, but they are so fucking scary. They talked about coma, before he even went into a coma, about how his body could have reacted to all that stress, about how normal it is that, after a resuscitation, the body gives up and goes into reset. And later, sometime after that first surgery, after that chain of long operations, to bring him back without any success, they talked about solutions, to disconnect the machines, to donate the organs, to let him go.
And Eddie remembers, the sound of Maddie’s breath, her breath that broke between her teeth, as she collapsed on him and sobbed softly. When the possibility of never having him back with them has become increasingly palpable.
She who has been a nurse in a previous life and knows, knows what this means. Something Eddie doesn’t want to think about.
The young surgeon who then hastened to say more, her voice still heavy, of tiredness and shared pain, a pain that perhaps, with a little hope, she might not know as well as them.
They had stabilized him, she said.
And Eddie remembers having wrinkled his nose, and if he still thinks about it his eyes burn, because it’s clear that Evan still wants to fight today, that he is so strong and resilient, and… and…
But Eddie already knew then what they meant, even before entering there in that little room, even before hell broke loose and that... that he...
They had stabilized him to give him time.
They had stabilized him to give Evan time to recover before the next surgery.
They had stabilized him to give them time. That’s it, that’s how it sounded, and how it sounds in retrospect, as if that were the right time to bid their goodbyes, that maybe Evan would hear them say goodbye.
They said more, back then, but Eddie didn’t want to listen. Or maybe he heard, but he didn’t have the courage to process all that amount of information.
Thankfully, even now, when the doctors talk, they also talk to Maddie, and therefore he can’t listen, he can silence rationality and think only about Evan, abandoned in a bed in a long-term intensive care unit. And now even if he doesn’t want to listen, he knows the percentages and how they thin out every day that he is there on the bed, unconscious. Of how his response to medicines, to stimuli, to everything else, of how unique and different each patient is, and how young and strong Evan is.
But basically, the more time passes, the more it is difficult for him to return.
Eddie doesn’t have the courage to hope.
Indeed, he always tries to listen to that voice, his rationality, which mutters in his head. That he is intubated, and that can further aggravate his already precarious situation, as far as he knows, that he probably won’t wake up, they can talk, not him. But he can hear, like abuelo, he can hear. And Eddie hopes that Evan’s brain lights up like the night of the 4th of July, like in that article, every time he hears his voice, as well as all his loved ones’.
 .
  And every time it’s like the first time he got in there. Each time it’s like the first. Even today, of all the other days. 
The first time he stayed three steps behind, he followed the doctors and Maddie over the panic door of the surgical intensive care unit. Evan had just come out of an operating room, after hours of surgery, and therefore they got them disinfected, and that smell entered Eddie’s skin in that moment and never went away, and the surreal heat of that place crushed his chest, and still steals all the air from his lungs, every step was heavy, every step is heavier than the previous one, today as then.
In a medication room, a nurse helped them get prepared. Now this is no longer the practice, now that he is in another unit, but Eddie still disinfects his hands every time he goes to him. No longer follows the protocol of the SICU, he doesn’t have to wear gown, gloves and cover shoes, mask and cap, Evan’s situation is stable there, but they had to follow a much more strict protocol in the post-surgery to limit the germs that can be brought in there, in such a delicate space.
Eddie let her go in first, and Maddie, and walked behind her, with his head down because he didn’t have the courage to look, because he knew already know what he would see.
And every time it’s like this, and every time he doesn’t want to see him like that. He would never have wanted to find himself in this position, standing in a fucking hospital, waiting, hearing all those horrible words bubbling in his head in a chilling echo.
And every time before entering, he feels his knees fail, and he clearly remembers the strangled sound of Maddie’s hiccups when she first entered. He can feel his fingers tremble and tears in his eyes, every single fucking time. And every time he doesn’t focus on Evan, he doesn’t focus on what’s on the bed, he doesn’t even look at the bed, maybe he sees it, but he doesn’t perceive it.
Evan is perhaps the human embodiment of the concept of enthusiasm, vitality, joy. He manages to bring incredible light wherever he goes, he bonds with anyone, he is always so radiant. That’s it, Evan is the sun, he is the sun and all the stars, and it’s all this and much much more. Eddie doesn’t even have the words, the right property of language to describe him. He doesn’t even want to find them, the right words, in all honesty, he’s something transcendent. Transcendent is the right word. Evan is like a concept, a concept behind Eddie’s sanity.
 .
And maybe Eddie has a lot of that fear and devastation in his eyes, even today, after all those days, weeks, months, there is nothing but devastation and dread, anxiety, his breath burns in the back of his throat, which tightens, and the voice that gets caught in the vocal cords every time, in that exact moment before crossing the threshold.
And then he enters, slowly.
A step.
A step.
A step.
He focuses on the noise of his shoes, which almost creak on the linoleum. He doesn’t hear anything else, he doesn’t even hear the noise of the machines, the heart monitor, the ventilator, he doesn’t hear anything else because he has his heart that hammers in his ears, that fills his head. He feels his own breath, he feels himself living, he feels his life running through his veins, and Evan’s running away with every step, in that painful limbo.
A step.
A step.
A step.
Evan is no longer colourful, no longer flamboyant, no longer cheerful, no longer noisy, no longer enthusiastic. He is no longer him. That’s not Evan, on the bad, it is some kind of ghost.
Eddie focuses on hearing the sound of his own heart, he feels his jugular throbbing against the collar of the shirt he wears. He feels himself living, and he feels like dying at the same time, his breath that becomes shorter screeching at the beck of the throat.
If he was alone, back then, when he entered there, in that other little room in the SICU the first time, he would never have been able to stay there, to enter, if Maddie hadn’t been there, Eddie would never have entered alone. Because Eddie is someone who runs away, someone who runs and lets his fears get the upper hand. And this is perhaps one of his biggest fears. Yet perhaps, in his heart, he would never have found the courage to leave. Perhaps he would simply be annihilated in his own dread.
And there is no sound in that room, besides Eddie’s heart beating fast, rumbling in his head, in his ears, murmuring on his neck. There is no noise, or perhaps there is, in that almost sacred and silent environment that looks like a chapel.
The room is very small, and it smells like disinfectants. In front of the door there is a long and thin window, that takes horizontally almost the entire wall, and in the morning it lets in a soft natural light.
The air is thick and smells of medicines and something ferrous and sweetish.
 He moves his gaze from one wall to the other, against which is placed the white bed. It’s only with extreme slowness, that Eddie drinks in, every time, all the details of the room. The canary yellow dye that breaks into a thick white strip, to then turn straw yellow to the ceiling. The metal arm to which the various bags full of transparent solutions are attached full, each bag releases droplets at different times, at a very precise and distinct rhythm. The cardiac monitor tracks time in a very particular way. The ventilator that roars, the sound of the pump rising and falling and pushing air into his lungs.
It is strange how Eddie perceives things, he doesn’t identify immediately Evan, lying in that bed. He knows and doesn’t know at the same time what he will see. Like the first time he went into that other room, and looked at him, but he didn’t really see him, not immediately.
Now the room is more colourful. On the walls there’s a patchwork of Christopher’s drawings, on a thin shelf there are books for children and something that Chim and Hen are certainly reading to him, scientific publications, magazines of all sorts, and a vase with flowers, always fresh and colorful which abuela brings every Tuesday and Pepa changes every Friday. There is an unspecified number of stuffed animals, which Christopher brings him when he knows he won’t be able to stay long, and will have to leave him alone, and he doesn’t like to leave his Bucky alone. There’s that multicoloured patchwork duvet that Athena brought him to make his bed more welcoming. There are pictures, of May in college with a large group of friends, of Nia who is now older and chasing Hen and Karen’s dog with Denny, of Harry with Michael grilling ribs on the Grant house patio, of Christopher’s latest science fair, complete with a blue first prize cockade attached nearby. There are all the moments that he’s lost. Maddie keeps a journal and leaves it there, open for everyone’s update.
And after appreciating each time a small, new addition, without wanting to, because he is one who runs away, for the hills, approaches the bed, one step after another, and the sound that reaches his head is now the cardiac monitor’s that keeps telling him, that keeps reminding him that Evan is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive. Is alive…
It doesn’t look like him, that thing on the bed, doesn’t look like him. Because the hospital changes you, it changes you as soon as you enter, but at the same time it’s him. And he’s been there for so long, that his hair is long and all curly, and opaque, a thin veil of beard caresses his now sharper profile.
He is there.
He is simply there in a bed that looks just barely longer than he is, that looks like a cage for a bird, unable to fly away.
Evan is intubated. And when a patient is unable to breathe for himself intubation may provide lifesaving airflow, oxygen. However, the process itself is painful and carries its own risks, and ventilator adjustments are important for reducing lung injuries. There’s always the same nurse, a old caring woman, who takes care of him, that provides clinical management for him, that monitors his vital signs frequently, and adjusts the levels of oxygen, and uses a moistened gauze over his eyes. She is so patient and caring with him, that Eddie’s heart aches every time he sees her. And with her wrinkled face she shots Eddie a bright soft smile and murmurs something along the line of a blessing, because he is still fighting, he is still struggling all the way back home. And Eddie hopes that she’s right, that Evan is coming back home with him.
But when the old nurse leaves, he focuses on something else, he tries to remember that he can’t hope, that he must not hope because hope is scary, hope hurts. And he doesn’t have this luxury, they don’t have this luxury. Yet he is selfish and hopes, he hopes he won’t have to grow old without him, he doesn’t have to spend another night alone, he hopes he won’t have to tell his son, that maybe loves his Bucky more than Eddie, that his Bucky won’t come back, he hopes he won’t have to put the pieces of his broken heart in a bottle, he hopes to have more time. Time to live with him.
He moves his gaze and every time the first thing you can record is that big needle that keeps him connected to those bags hanging nearby, and every now and then moves gradually on the length of his arm, leaving a constellation of bluish bruises on his skin.
Evan’s hands, his wrists, his arms, Evan himself seems so slender, so thin, so tiny in that bed he hardly fits in. The skin is paper-thin, especially the skin on his hands is so fucking thin like tissue paper, almost transparent and the veins are swollen and bluish on the backs. The tattoos look like marbling streaks in alabaster, his birthmark seems extremely darker, on that skin so pale, almost whitish, and the always dark circles, always swollen, under his eyes are like bruises.
Eddie sits nearby, usually in that shoddy metal and plastic chair, but sometimes he has the courage to sit on the bed, near his bad leg, he touches his hand with his fingertips and barely intertwines their fingers, with a delicacy that perhaps he only used with Christopher when he was just born.
Eddie never has the perception of how long he stays there, sitting, with shortness of breath, the air that burns at the bottom of his throat, the silence that is pure noise in there, that absence that rains down on him every time, even if Evan is there, within his reach but at the same time miles away. But then he starts talking to him slowly, because maybe if he can hear Eddie, Evan finds his way home, he speaks to him slowly, sweet nothings or something more deep. He doesn’t know what he tells him, really, but at least he must have changed a bit what he said at the beginning. That constant apology, that constant murmur of not having been enough, of not having done enough. In all senses, but perhaps Evan doesn’t even think it, that Eddie didn’t do enough in all senses: that he didn’t love him enough, that he didn’t support him enough and not only that day, but all the others times.
And he talks and talks and talks. His voice an indistinct murmur for his ears, his lips against the almost transparent skin of his hand, and he looks at him, Evan sleeping and not sleeping at the same time. Once upon a time seeing him sleep was a source of unspeakable joy, being able to see him at a time when his defences were all lowered, where he was abandoned in a peaceful sleep, his neck relaxed, his jaw soft, the small expression that occasionally ruffled his forehead only a memory.
 And Eddie hopes, every single time he sits there, that it will happen again. That what happened the first time he entered that small room in the SICU, he hopes it will happen again and permanently this time, that Evan will open his eyes and look at him and never go away.
“Come back to me,” he murmurs on his knuckles, against his swollen bluish veins, under that transparent veil of paper-thin skin. “I need you”.
The other time Evan had grasped his hand, as if to stop those words that gushed like a waterfall from his mouth, apologies, remorse, fears. Eddie remembers losing all his words, forgetting the thread of the speech, a hope that sprouted in his heart. For that moment, at that moment, it didn’t matter, everything Eddie didn’t do to help him, to make him feel loved, to make him happy, it only mattered that he was stirring slowly, that he was waking up slowly. He remembers his voice as he tried to get him back to him, broken, all trembling, loving and kind, and something different, something more. And those small movements, very weak, under the eyelids, were their little miracle. And he remembers Maddie gasping softly, all tearing up.
That time, months, weeks, days ago, Evan opened his eyes. And it was the last time Eddie saw those eyes. His kind eyes, yet so different from the usual. Evan opened them slowly, with a disarming, painful effort. The inside of the eyelids was marked with an unnatural and bruised red, the irises were pale blue, almost greyish. But when Evan saw the two them in the periphery of his visual field, he seemed to smile: he who smiles with his whole body, his face that lights up, even if in that moment he could move only his eyes, he was smiling. Eddie and Maddie could have said that he was smiling.
He remembers the total absence of any noise coming from him, not even a slight groan, suffocated, and Eddie could remember thinking that he was awake, yeah, yet miles away. A concern rose in Eddie’s throat, in the back of his head, swelled in his chest and to which he hadn’t wanted to give name, to listen. Evan was clinging to him, yet his grip was so weak, it was like he was about to let go. And an impossible fear mounted deep in his whole body, something similar to what he had felt back in the ambulance. It was as if, as if... but he had decided not to think about it, to talk to him constantly, to tell him everything he could to convince him, to make him stay there, stay there with him, with them.
But it had been only a handful of minutes, his and Maddie’s voices a constant fond murmur, because he was awake, he had managed to come back, which got lost in an echo of beeps and screeching sounds, the same sounds that did the cardiac monitor in the ambulance.
And he will never forget the way Evan stiffened a second later, collapsing. And the world collapsed on Eddie. And, before they could do anything else, he and Maddie had been tossed out.
All those complications, all those ominous words, all those horrible eventualities. And trivially the voice of his rationality murmured in the back of his head, that he could only get worse.
The swirling of voices, the confusion still fills his ears, the high-pitched whistle of the cardiac monitor that goes further and further, but still pungent, while a nurse accompanies them outside those panic doors, will always remain with him, he will darken his dreams until his last breath.
And days, weeks have passed and Eddie is so tired, so tired of sleeping alone, so tired of not being able to hear his voice, and he’s so afraid of not remembering everything, of not being able to remember every single thing that Evan did for him, every single moment they shared, every tiny bit of their short love. And he is afraid that if he stops watching videos, hearing voicemails, he will forget his voice, the way his words roll up on his tongue, the feeling of his lips on him. He forgot about the science museum, already, he already forgot him.
And so, this time, slowly, as if it’s their last long goodbye Eddie speaks to him what he doesn’t really want to give voice.
And when he looks up and sees him, so pale and thin, so dull, Eddie feels like an empty shell too. A piece of himself will go away even with this infinite farewell, in a whisper of smoke. And Eddie hates himself because nothing is sure, maybe tomorrow they’ll know that Evan is still experiencing something, that his brain reacts on a different substrate, he just needs more time, he always sleeps like a rock so, maybe… maybe he can still hope.
And there’s so much left to say, there’s so much more he would say, but…
“I love you” he murmurs softly his lips on his forehead “I always will”. And in Eddie’s ears it sounds like grief. I’ll never love like this again. But he doesn’t want to tell him this, he wants to be like his abuela, comforting him, and not actually bid him farewell.
He kisses his forehead slowly, before leaving. Christopher told him that if Bucky is like Sleeping Beauty, then a kiss is enough to wake him up and every time he hopes it is enough, that suddenly he wakes up in a somewhat theatrical and dramatic way, a little cliché, like the romantic movies, like Hallmark movies, like Disney fairy-tales.
And when he leaves, he leaves him there, in that bed and today breathing is harder than usual.
A/N:
If you reached the end of this chapter, you are now (and again, I hope?) my favourite person! Before the usual closing rituals, can I be brutally honest with you? I imagined this chapter way differently in its first draft. I have it written in two (three, lets be honest, there are 3 different drafts of this chapter here) and none of them were of my taste. I don't think this version is better than the others, but I had to chose if I should have posted a middle, passageway chapter, right after the "incident", or something like a time jump chapter. It occurred to me that while I was writing the second draft I didn't have a line of dialogue in its whole 10k words, you can imagine how I panicked *ahahah*. In the end I opted for this solution that's somewhere in between the other two(?). I'm not a fan of telling and not showing things, but I guess I'll have to set my heart on this half show & half tell (???) thing XD So, please let me know if this is as shitty as I think it is (it probably is). I don't think it is clear enough in some points, and maybe a little heavy in the narrative (and that's more likely the case XD).
As always, stay safe and take care of you!
tagging @buckleystrand; @sparksfly-buddie; @chrrlees; @lieselfh and whoever wants to be tagged!
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kbstories · 4 years
Text
Synthesis
syn·the·sis (n.) A higher truth gained from two contradicting ideas.
Every man has a breaking point - even Luffy. Good thing Usopp knows a thing or two about overcoming boundaries.
(Or: Sabo is in danger and Luffy is stressed)
Tags: Post-Wano, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Canon Compliant (up until Chapter 977), Recovery, Usopp is MVP as always, Mentions of Ace
Spoiler warning up to Chapter 977. Anything beyond that is pure speculation.
***
There’s a poetic sort of justice to the fact that everyone knows and Luffy doesn’t, this time.
It’s fucked up, sure, a twist of fate so morbid only Robin would find joy in it, and even she looks vaguely sick. You see, repetition is a fantastic rhetorical device: There’s nothing more satisfying than a story coming full circle, when the intricate mosaic of setup and payoff results in much-needed catharsis. Simple and effective, any storyteller will tell you – and Usopp is damn good at telling stories. It’s the one thing he can be proud of, when everything else fails.
Usopp doesn’t feel particularly good about that – or anything really – right at this moment. Perhaps in future he will, by all the seas, he hopes he will because that means this too will pass, and they will emerge from it victorious, just another miracle by the miracle-working crew from the East Blue.
But right now, surrounded by the shaken faces of his crew mates, all he feels like doing is crawling back to bed and passing out until it’s all over. To run for the hills and never return.
Usopp can’t and Usopp won’t, however. Because it’s Luffy, and because he made that mistake once before and swore: never again, never, never–
The newspaper lies innocently between them, a few days old by the time it made it past Wano’s crumbling borders via a confused News Coo, a clearly-alarmed Bepo (he hadn’t even apologized for almost running over Brook in his haste to get to his captain, and looking back that should’ve been the first red flag) and Law bursting into the room the Strawhats have claimed for their recovery, covered head-to-toe in gauze and all warmth drained from his expression.
Usopp did not miss witnessing their ally that close to despair. It makes the bright smile Law shared with Luffy in their moment of victory seem like a distant dream, perhaps part of one of Usopp’s more ludicrous tales.
“They got him. They got Sabo.”
It’s like he dropped a live grenade in their hands, if grenades were made of words torn kicking and screaming from a nightmare they all share. Usopp wants to ask – They, who is they?! – and there’s always a ‘they’, the Marine or the World Government or CP0 or some other shadowy organization pulling the strings of corruption and misery. But it hardly matters because this… this is real, a realization that passes from Strawhat to Strawhat along with the black-and-white print staring at them from pages increasingly crumpled by nine sets of shaking hands:
Revolutionaries Defeated at Mariejois: No. 2 of the Revolutionary Army Successfully Captured!
And in their midst slumbers their captain, huddled in the softest blankets they could find and snoring away his injuries, and he doesn’t know.
The irony – horrible, grotesque, unfair, unfair – isn’t lost on Usopp. Two years ago, he would’ve killed to have this, to be there, to catch Luffy as he bled and screamed and burned at the pyres of his brother’s death. To save Luffy just as he saved every single soul in this room, Law included.
Please, is all Usopp can think of, begging to every deity he’s heard of and those he hasn’t, to anyone who will listen, let him rest. Luffy doesn’t deserve this, not again. Please, have mercy–
Zoro is the first to move and something in Usopp moves with him, a fledgeling sense of optimism fluttering pathetically in his chest. Because it’s Zoro and Zoro always leads them right when their captain is off saving the world or a country (or two). Yet all Zoro does is sit at Luffy’s bedside like a mountain shaken into rubble, a measured kind of collapse that hits Usopp square in the gut. He doesn’t know what the others are doing, doesn’t dare look away from their first mate, but someone is crying and someone else is murmuring comforting words, and that at least sounds like Sanji so the first must be Nami.
There’s only a handful of times Roronoa Zoro has yielded without mounting a counterattack right afterwards and none of them are memories Usopp wants to revisit. Not now, not ever.
“Who else knows?”, Zoro asks, the steel in his voice worn down to a dull edge at best, and Zoro’s hand settles on Luffy’s head so gently it brings tears to Usopp’s eyes, too. Luffy mumbles in his sleep and smiles, nuzzling further into the covers with the clumsy comfort of a napping dog.
Law, too, is staring blankly at that gesture before blinking, focusing anew. He’s so tense a muscle visibly twitches in his jaw with the heavy swallow working its way down his throat.
“Bepo, me. Now you. Kidd is suspicious but he won’t leave Killer’s side, not yet anyways.”
The mere mention of Killer serves as an additional sucker punch on top of the veritable tsunami crashing over them, on the mend as he may be. That could have easily been Zoro, or Bepo, and the haunted glint in Law’s eyes says he’s thinking of it, too.
Zoro nods, absently. “And how long till we can set sail?”
For the briefest of moments, Law looks like he’s going to protest. The Trafalgar Law they met a few months ago would have, grim and annoyed, and the one from just last week would too, exasperated and loud–
Since then, they have beaten one of the Four Emperors and sent another one packing with her tail between her legs, and that feeling of having your dreams within reach if you only try hard enough, if you truly believe in it and your friends and yourself, it forges a bond like little else does. Hope is a dangerous thing – it can heal as much as it can wound, and Luffy has taught them all, one by one, how to endure both sides of that coin.
This pirate alliance of theirs has long stopped meaning what Law had wanted it to, and instead turned into what Luffy promised all along: Something permanent, something unbreakable, that all-or-nothing sensation of trust that is as much a freefall as it is flying.
So Law just… sighs. He rubs at eyes deeply smudged with missed hours of sleep and close calls all around, and Usopp can see his shoulders bend under the weight of being a captain.
“I… I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I don’t need to remind you all that this– It’s not like Kaido. Our chances against Kaido were slim to none but they were there. That report, it’s already outdated. The world has been shifting with us being none the wiser, and it could be that Luffy’s brother is already…”
It’s like Law can’t bring himself to say it, as if even speaking the possibility into existence will make them lose something they can’t get back. His gaze flickers to Jinbei, briefly, then to Luffy, and sympathy deepens the lines on his face.
“I’ll find out”, Law repeats, firmly. “Just… be there when Luffy wakes up. Then we’ll decide.”
And though many things may have changed, two years and countless battles later, this remains the same, always, always. Being at Luffy’s side is a privilege and a duty no Strawhat will ever turn their back on.
Blinking the blurriness from his vision, Usopp looks at the bandages wrapped around Luffy’s chest with loving care and the deep purple of bruises peeking out underneath, and he clenches his trembling hands to fists and hopes. As long as there is a sliver of sky above them and the wisp of a current below, they will follow their captain to the end of the world and beyond.
Come whatever may. Because this time, they are here and they're not letting go.
*
Luffy starts craving food the next morning.
It startles Usopp, the hand that knocks against his head and snaps him out of his doze by his captain’s side. He stares at the questing fingers for a few uncomprehending seconds. Usually he’d laugh, spirits lifted by the prospect of Luffy waking up sooner rather than later so they can celebrate properly.
There is nothing usual about this. Usopp reaches behind himself to the solid weight slumped against his back, shifting fitfully.
Sanji comes to with a tense breath. “It’s just me”, Usopp mumbles and doesn’t ask if his friend is alright. None of them are. Instead he says, “He’s looking for you”, and watches Sanji’s eyes soften somewhere between relief and heartbreak behind the strands of his fringe, weirdly unkempt.
“Mh, thanks”, Sanji replies in a raspy whisper; he gets up and leaves, side-stepping the jumbled puzzle of limbs that are the Strawhat Pirates. Only once he’s out the door does he reach for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
Sighing, Usopp rubs his eyes until they ache in an effort to wake up. Fuck, it’s like he hasn’t slept for a year and it’s been barely twenty-four hours. Beside him, Luffy’s hand inches its way towards Nami – sleeping close enough to brush knees with Usopp, head pillowed on crossed arms – and Usopp reaches out, takes it gently.
Luffy’s palm is warm against his, slightly damp from the fever he ran the first few days of recovery. His knuckles are a busted, swollen mess even now, and Usopp is careful. It wriggles impatiently, this hand that knocked a literal dragon out of the sky, and then it settles in Usopp’s grasp and Luffy sighs in his sleep.
Usopp can’t help but smile a little. “Food is coming, captain”, he tells him quietly. “Be patient with us, okay?”
Back to waiting it is. Not for the first time, Usopp plops his chin on the edge of the bed and just… looks. With his straw hat set aside (and safely tucked against Jinbei’s chest where he finally found a semblance of sleep, napping against the wall on the other side of Luffy’s bed), Luffy is sporting a truly impressive case of bedhead, the rest of him lost in a helpless tangle of blankets he tried to kick off during the night. He actually looks his age, Usopp’s age, like this – just some nineteen-year-old punk among many and not the one-of-a-kind captain of a crew famous the world over. It’s a rare chance to soak up this side of Luffy, the expression on his face relaxed and peaceful and lacking the chaotic energy that’s so infectious even eternally-grumpy Law had to give up fighting it off.
A selfish part of Usopp wants Luffy to remain that way, safe in the afterglow of a war well-won and unburdened by the cruelty of reality. It’s the same part of him that remembers the loving smile Sabo directed at Luffy, sleeping soundly in someone else’s bed just like this, and asks, why? Why didn’t you stay put? Why are you risking everything when your little brother is right here–
It’s selfish because stopping someone from doing what they truly want is the exact opposite of what Luffy is all about. Because the thing Sabo yearns for is freedom, and as long as the Celestial Dragons rule over their paradise built on the backs of countless slaves, no one is well and truly free.
If there’s a fight worth dying for, it’s that one. And yet–
“He’s going to be okay, you know?”
Usopp jumps a little, his neck protesting painfully as he whips his head around. Nami snickers at the wince on Usopp’s face before she sighs, the brown of her eyes bright with emotion.
“This sucks but… Luffy is strong. He’ll know what to do. Traffy is with us, we have a fleet to back us up, we’ll call in every favor we’re owed, and then we’ll show those fuckers hell for taking what’s ours. Sabo will be fine. I’ll kill him myself if he isn’t.”
She huffs, then, having talked herself into that righteous kind of fury that’s uniquely Nami even if she keeps her voice down for Luffy’s sake. Usopp finds himself chuckling.
“Say, what’s our going rate for personal rescue missions against impossible odds again?”
“A lot.” The grin on Nami’s grin is knife-sharp. “The Revolutionaries will be in a world of debt just for making Luffy worry.”
“Good”, Usopp says, and grins back just as fiercely.
*
They let Luffy eat his fill, for one because his healing factor is largely based on burning through incredible amounts of calories in no time at all, and also because Sanji looks like he needs to see it.
As much as their cook has his gripes about the bottomless pit that is Luffy’s stomach: Only when his captain is back on solid foods and on track to regain the weight he lost while unconscious does Sanji allow himself to relax. For Usopp, this means making sure his own plate is damn near licked clean by the time Sanji lets out a quiet breath and shuffles to the open window to smoke. The rest of the Strawhats eat, too, a low hum of conversation taking some of the tension out of the room they’ve barely left since Kaido.
The only exception is Zoro, and Usopp can’t help the glances he gives the door every few minutes, as if he’d magically reappear just like that.
The negotiations have been going on for ages now. As far as Usopp gathered, the Heart Pirates are heading intel and logistics, while Momonosuke assured them whatever resources Wano Country can spare – after taking care of their people, Zoro had added with a huff when he’d checked in on Luffy around dawn.
That’s not the problem, then. Eustass Kidd is, and after all that happened around the Kidd Pirates and pirate alliances, Usopp isn’t exactly surprised the guy refuses to compromise when it comes to his crew. Killer is awake now, though, and judging by the explosive arguments raging on outside, Kidd is not happy with his partner’s input on the matter.
The all-too-familiar sound of three swords being drawn is loud in the ensuing hush, and every scrap of metal in the room vibrates from the near-oppressive wave of magnetism sweeping through it.
“Oh? Who’s fighting?”
“Zoro and Kidd”, answers Usopp automatically, sighing. “Again.”
“Ah, okay. Not seriously though, right? We promised them a party after all. Like, a big one.”
“Kinda? It’s hard to tell honestl–”
Usopp blinks and turns to see Luffy awake and tilting his head at him. His hands are yet to stop shoving food in his face and Usopp stares with his mouth agape.
“Y-you’re awake!”
“Yeah!”, Luffy says with enthusiasm, and not a second later does he lift his plate away from the ball of fur charging at him with the force of a bull. Calmly, Sanji grabs the food and sets it aside for later. 
“Luffy!”
Chopper’s tearful wail is followed by a breathy oof from Luffy as the reindeer clings to his bandaged chest in a flurry of hooves. Luffy chuckles, “Hey Chopper”, sounding pleased as punch that the doctor is walking all over him. Then he meets the half-circle of relieved looks around him, his smile only getting wider and wider.
“Hey everyone! I slept in again, huh?”
“Hey yourself”, Sanji murmurs around a smoke-filled smile. He leans out the window and calls, “Mosshead! Crew meeting!”, and the clanging of swords on metal immediately stops.
The Strawhats coalesce from all corners of the room, crowding around their captain whilst leaving enough space for the impromptu check-up Chopper is conducting. This, at least, is familiar. Frazzled as they are, Usopp’s nerves are soothed by Luffy’s easy-going compliance with Chopper’s orders to make a fist, breathe deeply, cough, does this hurt? and if the doctor’s hooves are marginally less steady than usual, well, it’s only to be expected. There’s a line forming between Luffy’s eyebrows though, and Usopp knows none of them are ready to answer the questions forming behind that pensive look–
It’s in that moment that Jinbei steps up, eyes a little solemn even if the smile on his lips isn’t. “Glad to see you awake, captain”, he says, and offers Luffy his hand, palm-up. Cradled with infinite care between webbed fingers, Luffy’s beloved hat looks small and unassuming; met with immediate delight by its owner, it might as well be a crown made of gold and the finest jewels far and wide.
“My hat! Thank y– Jinbei!”
The name rings with joy the same way it did during battle, and while Jinbei regards Luffy with some measure of perplexity as he’s drawn into a rubbery hug along with the hat, Usopp exchanges fond looks with some of the crew. Dire news be damned, it’s still a little unreal to have their tenth crew member finally with them, like, permanently.
They couldn’t have found a better helmsman in any of the seas, that’s for sure.
“It’s so cool you’re back! We gotta celebrate! Oi Sanji–”
“Not so fast, Luffy. We gotta talk.”
Those gruff words cut through the smiles and laughter like they’re made of washi paper; finally Zoro is there, skin glistening with sweat and droplets of blood pooling around fresh scrapes, and the unhappy slope of his mouth is an important reminder that fate doesn’t care about reunions and banquets of epic proportions. 
The change in Luffy is instantaneous, eyes snapping to Zoro’s. His attention shifts like the wind, a physical force in this limited space. Almost absently, he places his hat where it belongs, a captain once more.
“Zoro? What’s wrong?”
No one answers, the silence lasting a mere heartbeat and an eternity all at once. This is it, Usopp thinks, the moment balancing on the precipice before a future as murky and uncertain as the ocean’s deepest trenches. He closes his eyes.
“What happened? Tell me.”
It’s said with authority, a weight similar to Haki but kinder, reassuring rather than suffocating – and resolve takes shape in Usopp’s chest, an urge to keep his head high and watch it all unfold with courage in his heart.
It has a similar effect on Zoro and it’s only then, with his shoulders squared and gaze steady, that Usopp realizes how miserable he had looked without Luffy by his side. Guilt creeps on Usopp, acidic in his veins. (Later. He can feel shitty about all of this later.)
“It’s Sabo. Things… are not looking good.”
Zoro produces the paper – a different one, newer, and Usopp feels his heart clench – from the sleeve of his yukata and hands it over, pre-folded to the relevant page. All Usopp can see from his angle is Sabo’s smile, determination apparent even upside-down. It’s a re-print of his wanted poster.
Next to him, Robin draws in a trembling breath and Usopp reaches out for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers to stop them from shaking.
“Sabo?”
It’s with clear surprise that Luffy utters his brother’s name, and Usopp watches helplessly as Luffy’s pupils flit left to right, reading, skipping over dense paragraphs and coming up to the picture at the top over and over–
Then he looks up, and Luffy’s eyes are wide with worry and confusion so earnest it hurts Usopp to the core. “I… What? But he was there, at Dressrosa. And he was fine…? I don’t understand. Is this a joke?”
Zoro’s eye narrows, something wounded there and gone like a shadow. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand”, Luffy repeats, insistent now, and he turns to Robin because that’s what Luffy does when something doesn’t make sense to him. “Robin?”
Robin’s hand squeezes Usopp’s, near-painful. All Usopp can do is squeeze back.
“The revolutionaries, they… There were plans to rebel against the World Nobles. The people in bubbles on Sabaody, remember?” Robin’s voice evens out and yet, her lashes are wet with unshed tears.
“It looks like they failed. We don’t know more than that – the Marine has kept the papers scrubbed clean, as always – but it seems your brother was in charge of the mission. They’re sending him to Impel Down, Luffy. That’s what it means.”
Impel Down.
Usopp can see the exact moment those two words sink in: all blood drains from sun-kissed skin, leaving Luffy’s face close to pallid in contrast to the mottled bruises underneath; Luffy’s mouth opens but no sound arises, no word of protest, no nothing, and Usopp would honestly prefer to see him scream to the heavens or burst into tears than this, this petrified sort of shock that doesn’t belong anywhere near Luffy. Then–
“We’re ready, captain.”
That’s Zoro again, and there’s a hard edge to his tone that Usopp recognizes as sorrow only because it mirrors his own. 
“Law has a plan, we’re fully stocked, the fleet is one snail call away. Killer wants to help so Kidd will come too. It’ll take a week to get there, tops. Just say the word and we’ll–”
“No.”
It’s nothing more than a whisper and yet, they all hear it. And even if they didn’t, Luffy repeats it once, twice, gaining in volume.
“No, no. We’re staying here. Sabo–”
Luffy’s voice cracks, and Usopp’s heart breaks clean in two, and Luffy pushes on, panting like he’s running a hundred miles in a hurricane.
“Sabo has his friends, and my dad. He’ll be fine, okay? He’ll come back. Sabo always comes back. So we don’t need to worry.”
That’s how it works: If Luffy believes in something, his crew does, too. It’s how they’ve always worked, how they’ve pulled off miracle after miracle and will continue to do so until they have sailed the entirety of the Grand Line and their captain is made King.
Something burns in Luffy’s eyes now and it’s not… that. It’s desperate, hunted, wrong. A lie said like a truth, and Usopp would know.
It occurs to him, in a distant part of his mind, that this is the first time he’s seen his captain truly afraid.
And it’s that what kicks Usopp’s brain into overdrive, because on this crew of reckless monsters he’s the one tasked with a healthy sense of fear, to manage the doubts everyone else doesn’t have because those are important, sometimes.
Because true bravery is a road made of boundaries and the means to overcome them, again and again and again – as many times as it takes to reach the end.
“Luffy”, Usopp says, and his voice doesn’t shake. He doesn’t let it. “We got this. We can save your brother. You have to trust us.”
In many ways, this is Usopp’s personal nightmare come true. He sees Luffy clench his trembling hands to fists, and his eyes narrow, and the vulnerability there bends into anger in an instant and it’s all so familiar.
“It’s not about that. It’s my decision to make, and I’ve decided. We’re not going.”
But this time, Usopp breathes. He forces himself to pause, just a moment, just so he can think and not lose himself to the panicked rush of blood to his head.
“We’re not gonna die, Luffy. We went through hell before and we came out alright, didn’t we? So we have to go. Please let us go.”
Suddenly Nami moves, kneeling next to the bed. She places a hand on Luffy’s wrist, gentle over the tense line of muscle there. “Luffy. Usopp’s right. Sabo’s your brother. He’s family.”
“I know that. I know–”
Luffy pulls away from her, from all of them, hides his face in his hands and pushes his fingers into his eyes hard enough that the bones in his hand show, thin and fragile-looking. One by one, tears start dripping down his palms and to the covers below.
“You guys don’t understand”, he says, his voice a hoarse, quivering mess. “You think you’ve seen hell but you haven’t, ‘cause Impel Down is hell and if we go there– There’s no way we’re getting out. Not a-all of us.”
It’s so quiet Usopp can’t even hear anyone else breathing but Luffy, every inhale hitched and barely realized before rushing back out. It’s like he can’t but speak, the horrors he’s seen and never talked about strangling him from the inside.
“Back then I wasn’t thinking ‘cause it was A-Ace, and he was trapped in there and not free, and just the thought of him dying like that made me sick. I only survived ‘cause I had a ton of help and ‘cause a bunch of people died instead of me.”
Luffy stops, and breathes, and rubs his arm across his face until the tears are gone. Usopp doesn’t mention he’s probably ruining the careful work Chopper put into binding that arm. Chopper himself is too busy crying his eyes out against Franky’s shoulder to really notice.
“I’m not risking it”, Luffy says then, eyes dull and red-rimmed. “Mariejois – that’s at Sabaody, right? Marineford and G-1 are around there, too. It’s gonna be a huge mess, again, and I…”
I can’t do it, not again.
It goes unsaid, in the end; perhaps, despite everything, Luffy isn’t actually capable of expressing something so devoid of hope, so close to giving up. That’s… more than nothing, it’s enough to hold on to, and that’s exactly what Usopp does.
“Then we won’t go to Impel Down. And we won’t go to Marineford, or G-1, or wherever those assholes are gonna make a show out of– That. Okay, Luffy? We won’t go to any of those places.”
“But… then how…?”
Usopp searches for Zoro, his gaze bridging the few feet between them that feel endless and Zoro blinks and gives him that devil-may-care smirk of his. To Zoro’s credit, it almost looks right.
“We’re pirates”, says Usopp with enough conviction for both Luffy and himself. For all of them, really, for one brilliant moment.
“We’re going to catch them at sea, because we have the best navigator and the fastest ship and the most skilled helmsman. We’re going to fuck them up because we have the strongest swordsman and a musician who can cut through souls and a freaking cyborg with laser beams and Nico Robin. And we’re going to be fine, because Sanji’s food raised you from the dead just this morning and Chopper can heal any wound and because our captain always leads us right. And even if they manage to account for all of that…”
Usopp grins with far too much teeth.
“We just have to get in range. I’ll shoot those bastards from so far away they won’t even see it coming, and if anyone even thinks of laying a hand on your brother I’ll shoot those off too.”
Luffy just stares at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, eyes swimming in tears. Then he laughs, an awkward, hiccupping kind of laughter that’s raw relief more than anything else. “That’s right”, he gasps, a hand rubbing at his chest where the starburst scar is currently hidden from sight.
“You’re right! We’ll save Sabo, and everyone will be okay, and then we’ll throw the biggest party ever. Right?”
“Right”, Usopp says, “and don’t you dare forget it”, voice wobbling all over the place now that his captain is smiling again, and he hears a fond sigh from Sanji to his left and a melodic chuckle from Robin to his right and Nami looks at him with so much pride Usopp doesn’t know what to do with himself.
It’s Jinbei he settles on, who gives his captain a soft look before he meets Usopp’s eyes half-way and nods, his smile full of admiration. For him. Usopp, son of Yasopp, from Syrup Village, East Blue.
None of his storybooks taught Usopp what to do after the heroic speech is over and the day is saved. And perhaps there is no trick to it, no how-to guide to achieve that dream of his – perhaps, for now, it’s enough to let himself be dragged into a rubber-limbed hug that threatens to crush his ribs, and share the laugh that found its home in his captain once more.
If that’s the case, then Usopp thinks he’s doing alright on the hero front after all.
28 notes · View notes
bittysvalentines · 5 years
Text
For: @aceinhyperspace
From:@17piesinseptember
♡ ♡ Happy Valentine’s! I hope you the most fantastic of days ♡ ♡
___
Kent laughs a belly laugh. “To be fair, you did hate me.”
“I did not,” Bitty refutes, cheeks turning red. Though that could be the wine.
Jack’s eyebrows lift but he doesn’t say anything.
“I didn’t!” Bitty repeats, then he gets a wicked glint in his eyes and says, “I just sometimes imagined you getting seriously injured and cut from your team.”
Kent launches himself at Bitty to faux-tackle him. Thankfully, Jack’s quick reflexes protect his laptop from crashing to the floor. He moves away from the couch they’re play-wrestling on and stands on the other side of the coffee table away from the flailing limbs.
“Yet even this rivalry had nothing on the years of ingrained tension between previous line mates, Parson and Zimmermann,” Jack continues reading the article.
Kent's face is pressed into Bitty's side but Jack catches the mumbled, “They probably wrote that because you never smiled at me during our face-offs.”
“You never smiled at me either, bud,” he tells Kent.
Kent digs his fingers into Bitty's side and is released. “Oh yeah?” He stands and straightens his t-shirt. “What do you call this.” Kent jumps over the coffee table to get up in Jack’s face and pull his face-off expression.
“It’s a smirk.” Jack tells him.
“Bitty?” Kent looks for support elsewhere.
“Sorry, hun.” Bitty fixes his hair on the couch. “I’m with Jack on this one.”
Kent pouts and spins the laptop around in Jack’s hand.
“The pair were first…Okay, blah, blah, blah, we know this part.” Kent scrolls down the article with a finger. “Blah, blah, blah—Oh. Here we go.”
Kent takes the laptop from Jack and clears his throat. “However, if the hockey fans of the world thought that theirs was the rivalry of this decade, they were in for a shock when the Falconers added Eric “Bitty” Bittle to their roster. Suddenly the apathetic dismissals of Zimmermann seemed genial. Put Bittle against Kent and the ice seemed warm.”
Jack laughs at that and Bitty groans. “Why is there always an ice related pun in these articles?” Bitty laments.
“I like them,” Jack says.
“That’s because your dad humour came in early,” Bitty tells him with perfect derision.
Kent laughs so hard that Jack takes the laptop back off him and sits down beside Bitty. Jack looks between the two of them, Bitty still despairing over the pun, and Kent wiping his eyes as he starts crying with laughter. It’s not the future Jack thought he’d have, not when he first met Kent, not when he first met Bitty, not four years ago when they were all finally in the league together. Reading the article reminds him how far they’ve come.
~FOUR YEARS AGO~
Jack pulls Bitty aside before the match. “You okay there, bud. You seem a little…wound-up.”
“I’m fine.” Jack watches Bitty’s hand clench tightly around his hockey stick.
“Okay.” Jack lets it go, even though he knows Bitty is lying. There isn’t time now to get into it. The Aces are waiting for them on the ice.
Jack takes an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, and in fact, he doesn’t even get there by himself.
Kent skates past him before second interval and hisses, “What’s the new guy got against me?”
Jack watches Bitty in the next play as he pulls a spinorama around Kent and whisks the puck away. It’s not skills, it’s showmanship. Like Bitty’s trying to embarrass Kent.
Jack spies Kent and swings past him, speaking quickly so it’s not obvious. “He knows about our history.”
Kent has to wait until the next pause in play to respond.
“I apologised for that,” Kent speaks angrily. “We both did.”
“I didn’t think I needed to let Bits know that.”
“Well, could ya?” Kent demands, starting to skate away. “He’s being a fucking menace to me.”
Jack doesn’t get a chance to say anything during the game. He makes sure Bitty doesn’t get picked for post-game interviews but by the time he himself has finished, Bitty’s gone from the locker-room. His stuff is still in his nook though, so Jack goes looking. He can’t be far, and Jack has a suspicion he knows which direction Bitty would have gone in.
The two blond heads are easy to spot, and their voices carry in the empty corridor.
“You tweeted me?” Jack can easily picture the ice in Bitty's eyes at that tone.
Kent shrugs and Jack can see Bitty’s hackles rise. “Knew you’d see it. I’ve got something to say to you.”
Jack starts to jog, heart pounding.
Bitty lifts his chin. “Why should I bother hearing it? I’ve got a win to celebrate.”
“You should bother because you played almost as dirty as me out there.”
Eric rolls his eyes. “Hypocritical remarks. Great. I’m leaving.”
Kent reaches out to grab Eric but Jack reaches them in time and puts his body in the middle of them.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Bitty smiles brittlely. “We’re leaving.”
Jack looks from Bitty to Kent.
“Kent, you should say what it is you wanted to.” He doesn’t want this getting into Bitty’s head again at their next game.
Bitty’s jaw slackens. “You’re on his side? That’s the guy who can push you into an anxiety spiral in three sentences! Whose ego is so big that—"
“Woah. Hey, Bits,” Jack interrupts, seeing the curling of Kent’s fists. “We’ve talked about that. It’s in the past. We’ve both apologised to each other.”
Jack keeps his eyes on Bitty, watching his expression thaw ever so slightly.
“Right. Fine. Okay.” Bitty relents for the moment, though Jack knows they’ll be talking about it later. Bitty presses his lips together in a firm line and looks Kent up and down, unimpressed. “I still think you’re a dick,” he tells Kent before stalking back to the locker rooms.
“Back atcha,” Kent shouts to Bitty’s back.
~PRESENT DAY~
“I'm going to the kitchen,” Bitty announces, picking up the empty bottle of wine. “Does anyone want anything?”
Jack shakes his head. “I'm good, bud.”
“Is there more of your hazelnut ice cream?” Kent asks.
“Think so,” Bitty tells Kent. “I'll bring the tub if there is.”
“Love you,” Kent replies, stopping Bitty en route to the kitchen to give him a kiss.
“Love watching him leave,” Kent says to Jack, stealing Bitty's old spot on the couch. Jack agrees wholeheartedly but flicks Kent's ear anyway.
“Ouch,” Kent complains.
Jack smiles at Kent so he knows it's in jest when he says, “Why are you always so crass.”
“You bring it out in me. You're both too hot for my own good.” Kent licks an exaggerated line up Jack's neck so Jack pulls his hair in retaliation.
Bitty re-enters and avoids the ensuing tussle by sitting on the opposite armrest of the couch. “Well, at least I know you didn't read ahead without me,” he interrupts after a few moments.
He takes a scoop from the tub of ice cream in his lap and passes it to Jack.
“Any bets on what the closing paragraph is going to be?” Jack asks. It's a running game for them to predict the path of these articles.
Bitty hums. “I'm thinking something about trade rumours—reuniting the Parson Zimmermann dream team.”
“Good one. How much are we betting?” Jack asks, passing the tub across to Kent, who grabs at it eagerly.
“Ten dollars?”
“Mh. Ten tubs of this ice cream,” Kent says with his mouth full.
“Declined,” Bitty says. “Even if I give you my recipe and watch you cook, it’ll somehow turn out wrong.”
Kent pokes out an ice cream-covered tongue and Jack uses the distraction to steal the tub back.
“Winner gets to choose the theme for our Halloween party this year?” Jack suggests.
“Ooh. I like that one even better actually. I'm in.” Kent holds his spoon aloft. “I'm gonna go with…” He twirls the spoon as he thinks before landing it on Jack's shoulder. “I bet they talk about the Stanley Cup in a way that implies if one of our teams wins it'll prove LGBT-plus players are proficient.”
“Kinda specific,” Jack comments, tipping the tub so Kent can access it. “You’re sure you wanna go with that?”
“No, no. Let him make the weird and specific bet,” Bitty argues. “It's funnier that way. Plus they're actually right half the time.”
~THREE YEARS AGO~
Bitty, stretched out on the couch with phone in hand, laughs. It's the groan that follows it that gets Jack's attention.
“You good?”
Bitty groans again. “I'm annoyed. I was going through Kent's Instagram for his cat and it's hilarious.”
“And that's annoying to you?”
“No. Yes. Probably.” Bitty drops the phone onto his chest and digs his hands into his eyes. “Should it be?”
Jack shuts his book properly and sits on the coffee table so he’s up near Bitty's head.
“You're always number one in my book.”
Bitty drops his hands and smiles at Jack.
“I'm gonna follow him,” he declares.
“Uh…” is all Jack gets out before Bitty hits the follow button.
“And fuck it, his personal one too.”
Jack manages a full, “Are you sure?” this time at least. Bitty still trash talks Kent when they face each other. He doesn't think this will go well.
Jack's worry turns out to be unfounded.
“I really wish you'd bond over something that isn't my clothes,” Jack pleads, watching Kent and Bitty in stitches on the couch.
“But Jack. Jack. Look.” Bitty holds his phone up for Jack to see. His laughter shakes it so much it's tricky to even pick what outfit they're laughing over this time. “Your shoes.”
“Your shoes,” Kent repeats. “Bright yellow.”
“Yellow,” Bitty echoes, nodding sagely in the way only tipsy people can get away with. “And your t-shirt is huge.”
“So huge,” Kent gasps, wiping tears from his eyes. “I bet you twenty bucks Bitty and I could fit in it. Like together. At the same time.”
Jack doesn't think his clothes are that big. He laughs. “Deal. Twenty it is.”
Bitty and Kent share a look and then Jack's racing them down the corridor, trying to stop Bitty from showing Kent their closet.
Kent and Bitty strongarm him into giving them both twenty.
~PRESENT DAY~
“How long is this article, anyway?” Kent asks when Jack pauses between paragraphs.  “They aren’t even up to us coming out yet.”
“I was out before getting drafted,” Bitty points out, licking his spoon clean of the last of the ice cream.
Kent leans over the back of the couch from where he's been pacing and stretches a hand over Jack’s shoulder to reach for the laptop
Jack holds the laptop out away from Kent’s reach.
“Come on. I just wanna see.”
“I’ll lose my place.”
“I’ll find it for you again.”
“And then you’ll—"
“It’s 3000 words,” Bitty interrupts their argument. He holds up his phone at their twin looks. “I googled it.”
Jack scrolls down a little anyway, to appease Kent, then hands the laptop over his shoulder to him. He gets a quick kiss on the cheek for his troubles.
“On National Coming Out Day 2020, Bittle, Parse and Zimmermann came out on social media—”
“Already out,” Bitty repeats.
“—their announcements prompting several other current and retired players to join them over the following months. Though they say they were not together at the time, several months later the trio was spotted apartment hunting by fans, leading to speculation—later confirmed by the players themselves—that they were in a relationship. One year on and—”
Kent stops reading and scoffs. “This is bullshit.” He points a finger at the laptop. Bitty and Jack have to turn on the couch to see. “They didn’t even talk about the parade!”
“Look on the bright side,” Jack says, “at least they're not using that ‘we fell in love over FaceTime’ quote.”
“I stand by that,” Kent claims. Jack believes him, he just likes bringing it up.
“I remember when you said it,” Bitty says, holding his arm out over the back of the sofa to grab Kent's free hand. “I thought it was very sweet.”
“See, Bitty likes it.” Jack knows Kent's teasing from the easy smile on his face but he plays along.
“I didn't say it wasn't sweet,” Jack points out. ‘I just meant, it certainly wasn't the full story.”
“Well that one wasn't appropriate for mass media,” Kent replies.
“No!” Bitty says with overdone shock, hand pressed to his chest. “Spending a long weekend with us and bottling up your supposedly unrequited feelings only to confess those feelings over FaceTime the second you flew into McCarran, then hop on another plane straight back to us? That's not appropriate?”
“I meant more the stuff that happened after.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Always so crass.”
“That wasn't crass, that was suggestive.”
“Pee-can, pe-cahn,” Jack replies.
Kent sticks his tongue out.
“We're glad you did it,” Bitty says, pulling on their still linked hands to kiss him.
Kent returns to the article, making his way slowly around the couch.
“They’ve put in that blurry phone pic again,” he sighs. “Why do people always use that one? We weren't even together yet.”
“Jack’s ass in those jeans,” Bitty says at the same time Jack says, “Bitty’s hand in your hair.”
Jack waits for the inevitable follow-up. He catches Bitty’s eyes and knows he’s doing the same.
Three, Bitty mouths.
Two, Jack mouths back, grinning.
One.
“But my eyes are shut!” Kent complains with his usual dramatic flair.
Jack and Bitty start laughing.
“What? Guys, what?” Kent asks sulkily.
Bitty gasps. “You say that every time.”
“Well my eyes are shut every time,” Kent replies, defensive.
“At least it’s not the picture from your birthday last year,” Jack points out.
Bitty shudders beside him. “Amen.”
~ONE YEAR AGO~
The flash from the camera is blinding.
“Take the flash off,” Jack shouts over the groans of people who’ve been half-blinded.
“Yeah, take it off.” The way Kent’s hands are snaking into the waistband of his pants makes it clear he’s not talking about the camera flash.
“Sorry!” Bitty says, adjusting the setting. “Okay, final one y’all.”
Bitty starts the self-timer then dashes to squeeze himself into the group. He jumps on Jack’s back and almost topples them both over by throwing an arm to wrap around Kent’s shoulders.
After the camera clicks, Bitty pulls them both by the hand over to the camera. He brings up the final photo and zooms in on the three of them.
“Dear lord.” Bitty flips the camera so they can see.
“Holy shit,” Jack exclaims.
Kent grabs the camera and zooms in even more, laughing. “I love this photo. This is the best birthday photo ever. I’m gonna print it and frame it and keep a copy in my wallet.”
“Isn’t it a litte, uh, N-S-F-W?” Jack can’t help but say.
Bitty groans. “Jack, please don’t tell me you just—”
He grins and confirms Bitty’s fears. “Not safe for wallet.”
Bitty headbuts Jack’s chest. The blond hairs tickle his skin and he’s pretty sure the body paint is going to rub off onto Bitty’s forehead. “No! That’s a fine. I’m calling it. Give me a kiss to make up for it. Right now.”
Jack happily obliges.
“You owe me one too,” Kent tells Jack, already leaning in for it. “Oh my god, that pun was bad.”
Kent laughs into Jack’s mouth as he kisses him, and Jack tries hard to shut him up with his tongue. It’s not that effective.
~PRESENT DAY~
“Oh. Is that it?” Kent sounds disappointed to have finished the article, for all his ribbing earlier. “No one guessed the ending then. Damn.”
Jack reaches over and closes the internet window before Kent hits the comments section. They’ve learnt to leave that be. It’s always the negative ones that stick with you.
Kent puts the laptop on the coffee table then twists on the couch so he can lean against the armrest and stretch his legs out over Jack’s lap.
“Not the best, not the worst,” Bitty remarks from Jack’s other side.
“There wasn’t anything new in it, at least,” Jack comments.
“Yeah, because we’re like the boring married people in the NHL now.” Kent manages to sound sad and relieved at once.
“Kenny, we’re neither of those things,” Jack says, rubbing a palm along Kent’s leg.
“Soon though,” Bitty says, smiling, stretching his left hand across to rest over Jack’s on Kent’s leg. The diamond flecks in the gold band catch the light. “I’m looking forward to a boring married life with you two.”
101 notes · View notes
imfreefallinall · 5 years
Note
Could you write an imagine about a super jealous and protective Shawn? Like he sees a guy staring at you and he gets all worked up and becomes jealous? I really love those kind of imagines . Thank you in advance :)
Hi hun! Sorry for the waiting but here it is! I got a bit carried away so it’s not all about jealousy.
Love,
B
----------------
You had always been a party girl - you loved dancing, singing in the clubs and having a few drinks with friends- but you still weren’t used to these wild after parties, full of hot-looking celebrities with their expensive clothing. However, being the sensational Shawn’s girlfriend, you often had to go with him. Most of the time it was actually nice: you stayed with Alessia, sometimes with Taylor or Troye, the kindest people you could meet in the industry, and, even if at the beginning it was kinda hard, being you in a room full of them, Shawn made sure to help you get over your insecurities and just have fun. After all, a little dancing never killed anybody.
The award ceremony was good: Shawn won two categories out of three, the dinner was quite delicious and your dress soft enough to let you breathe through the evening. Not sexy, but classy.
The road to the afterparty in the limo was actually fun and the afterparty itself was exciting at the beginning: that was, until something in Shawn shifted, jaw clenched most of the time and hands grabbing your hips and hands harder than normally. You figured that maybe the alcohol he consumed was turning him a bit on, his needy and dominant side coming up to the surface, but when you started to play along, moving boldly to the rhythm of the music and swaying your hips onto his, he pulled you away, almost forcing you to sit down with him on a soft couch in a corner. You tried to speak to him, to figure out what was clearly bothering him, but the boy wouldn’t speak a word, just hold you tight against his chest.
“Shawn, if you’re not in the mood, can we at least go home? These heels are killing me.” You tried to resonate with him, obtaining an angry look.
“Y/N don’t be whiny: we just got here and you know we have to stay for at least an hour more.” He claimed, his hand gripping your thigh, something you knew he made when he was uncomfortable.
“Well at least let me go and grab a drink!” You added, already starting to stand up.
“I think you had enough for tonight, haven’t you?” He questioned, pulling you back and making you fall on his lap.
“Sorry?” You asked surprised, your eyebrows lifting suddenly.
“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” He murmured, throwing the rest of the drink down his throat.
“Whoah, okay, Mr Dickhead. I’m not gonna let you force me to stay here and ruin my time at the same time. You’ll find me on the dance floor when you’ll get your shit together.” You said angrily, standing up with force and making your way to the dance floor, finally reaching Taylor and Dua, who invited you to dance with them.
You danced with your friends, momentarily forgetting about his angry stare on you, until he hugged you from behind, pulling you to his chest.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. Let’s go home.” He shouted in your hear, trying to drag you out of the club.
“If you really think that an I’m sorry can make up for your childish behaviour, you’re completely wrong. I’m having fun right now, don’t you see I’m busy? Go home if you want.”  You knew you shouldn’t be so hard on him when he wasn’t in the mood, and you knew you’ll both regret it later, but he couldn't treat you that way without reason. You made your way to the bar, ignoring again his flustered stare on you.
“What can I give you, miss?” The barman was a charming boy, indeed, but you were too busy being angry with your boyfriend to even notice his stare on your boobs.
“The strongest drink you can make in 30 seconds.” You shouted, him nodding to you and moving around to prepare your order.
“Y/N! I didn’t know you were here!” Someone shouted from your right, and it took you a few seconds to figure out who it was.
“Justin! Hi!  Congrats on your award, man.” You smiled hugging him tightly for a few seconds.
“Thank you! How have you been?” He asks, his lips lingering more than necessary close to your ear.
"Good, yeah. What about you? Your career really took off again." You smiled, lifting your newly made drink to your plump lips and taking a sip.
"Yeah, amazing really. I don't really wanna talk about work, not when you look like that." He smiled charmingly but his words were no compliment to you.
"Justin, you know I didn't come here alone." You replied, standing back on your heels, ready to go.
"Well, it seems like you did. Where's that funny boyfriend of yours?" He laughed, making you furrow your brows.
"You're such a dick, honestly." You said angrily, brushing his hands away from your body and finishing the drink. As you walked away, looking for Shawn, you felt someone grab you from behind and force you out of the door. You panicked at first, but as soon as you saw the swallow tattoo on the hand holding your hip you relaxed and let the boy walk you more calmly to the car who was waiting for you.The ride home was long, no words shared within you two. As soon as you entered Shawn's condo, you took off your heels, ready to go to bed. Clearly, the angry boy grumbling to your left had other plans, pouring himself a glass of tequila.
"Shawn, baby, you don't need that now. Come to bed with me." You said softly, too tired to fight.
"Baby? How can you call me baby when you've been in someone else's arms for the whole night?" He shouted, making you jump a little on your spot.
"What do you mean with that?" You said drinking a glass of cold water.
"Do you think I didn't see the barman stare on you? Or Justin's hands on your skin? I get it, you were acting childishly to contradict me and get another drink, but the way he was looking at you? No, I can't take it."  Shawn said, almost in a whisper this time.
"Are you jealous?" You tried to contain a little smile.
"I'm not! I just don't like the fact that my girlfriend lets other people look at her and touch her that way!"
"I didn't even notice it! You're exaggerating right now, I didn't let anybody get too close to me. Do you think I'd really disrespect you that way?"
"Oh, so you didn't let him fuck you just because you wanted to respect me? Amazing! Just what I wanted to hear!" He was shouting again, your hand flew too fast to his left cheek.
"Don't you ever say something like that again. What's the problem with you tonight? You looked angry the whole time at the club, you didn't want to dance and you wanted to keep me on your lap like I was a little girl who can't control herself. And you even have the courage to say I was looking for those, clearly unwanted, attentions from a guy I really can't stand." You replied angrily.
"Well if you didn't want them you should have stayed with me!"
"I tried to but I couldn't stand you either tonight! You made me feel bad for nothing, you made me feel so little, Shawn!"
"Well, you make me feel little every day!" He shouted again. Silence settled in the living room for a few moments.
"What do you mean?" You whispered again while he sat on the big, grey sofa. You got closer to him, embracing his crying frame.
"What's going on, Shawn?"
"It's not just about jealousy, okay! It also is. How could I not be jealous of all those other guys, more beautiful than me, richer, funnier, classier, more famous when you look like that! Those other boys who make you laugh every time, who could take you out to dinner last minute because they aren't on the other side of the world! Who don't have anxiety or panic attacks, who don't have to try in vain to protect you from awful comments on social media, who aren't clumsy or terrible cookers and who can surely treat you right every time, in every occasion!" He cried loudly,  hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you held him in your arms.
"Shawn, love, do you really think I care about money, fancy restaurants, sex experience or platonic beauty? I know our relationship is quite new, but if I made you think I cared about that stuff I'm so, sorry. I love this clumsy boy right here, who makes me laugh all the time, who makes the most significant, small gifts that I cherish, who can't cook to save his life but who tries so damn hard every time. I love you because you are extremely beautiful inside out, your body is a masterpiece, but your heart is what I really appreciate every single second we spend together. I can bare with the distance if that means being by your side, and I'd rather spend the night in, cuddling with you and ordering junk food than going to a fancy restaurant where we couldn't even chat properly. I'm not scared by your anxiety or your bad moods in general, we can work through it tonight and I'd rather be awake at 3 am to help you get through panic attacks than have sex with someone else. And, just to clarify, the sex with you is a bomb." You spoke slowly, passing your fingers through his curls.
"She said the same things, but then she left me for him. I couldn't bear losing you, you are the love of my life, Y/N." He said holding you tight.
"And you are mine! I'm not her, I'm not gonna leave you to get more recognition, I'm not gonna leave you for any reason in this world."
"I'm sorry I and my stupid jealousy and insecurities ruin your night. You looked beautiful." He whispered looking at you in the eyes.
"We looked beautiful baby. And the night isn't over yet. Let me see what that jealousy does when it takes over you in the bedroom, mh?" You giggle with him.
"You really are something else."
----
TAGLIST: @awkwardfangirl2014 @aria253264
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pandaskull101 · 5 years
Text
The Boy and The Demon chapter 9 the Pieces of the Puzzle
Hello everyone i am back again sorry for the long wait i have been having some medical issues and bad case of writer's block. Anyway enough about me here is chapter 9 of the story i hope u enjoy.
Kevin never liked cars, driving, fixing, or perhaps building one from scratch he liked. Being a passage in one, not being able to do anything but waiting for the driver to reach the destination, was his least favorite. However, the situation he was in right now was beating his underlined claustrophobia. He thought that getting a ride from Double dorks mom and dad wouldn't be so bad, free rides wins over walking, oh how wrong he was. ‘This is what I get for choosing to walk than drive my bike. Man this sucks, they can at least turn the radio on. Anything would be better than this fucking silence.’ After a few seconds go by Kevin nerves couldn't take it anymore. “So um thanks for the ride Mr. and Mrs. Vincent I really appreciate it.”
“Hm oh it is no trouble Melvin now where do u live again.” Mrs. Vincent turned her head to the back seat to look at kevin who was behind the driver seat.
Fingers twitching he smiled at Edd’s mother “It's kevin and I live right across from you guys in the cul de sac,”
“Oh you are the Barr’s child then. I did not know you were friends with Eddward, how marvellous.” Even Though she sounded happy if you looked close you can tell what she said left a bad taste in here mouth that may ruin her taste buds forever.
“Actually mother,” Edd intervened seeing Kevin eyes become a dark swamp green color and his clenched jaw. “ Kevin and I have been friends for quite a while now actually. He was the one who escorted me to the nurse after someone had thrown a ball at my head.” Hearing Edd speak made Kevin relax a bit but not much.
“He seems somewhat well mannered than those two children you call friends. Honestly i do not know why you still associate with them, they will only bring you done in the long run.” cold, distant and harsh but smooth and strict. Mr.Vincent voice cut the air in the car like one of Nazz's katanas, sharp.
Licking his lip Edd responded “Father they are my friends my best friends in fact.”
Eddwards father didn't look at him he just faced forward eyes on the road oblivious of his son’s nervous fidgeting.
“Oh that reminds me, Your extra curriculum teacher emailed me a few days ago about your grades. In the email it stated that you have been lacking in your studies and your grades have been slipping do you know why?” Mrs. Vincent asked her sweet welcoming voice turning slightly cold and annoyed.
Eddward and kevin tensed both looking at each other knowing why his studies have been affected. Taking a calming breathe Edd answered. “ No I,”
“I think it is,” her voice cut him off the sweet tone gone replaced with a neutral tone of someone who know they are superior, “Because you are spend too much time with those two children, if not that than it is those useless contraptions you seem make for them.”
“But-but mother,”
“Eddward i have told you if you want to stay here you must keep up your grades both in school and your college courses, honestly you need to start making a effort all i have been seeing is work a toddler could complete with no studying to prepare it.”
“Yes mother i will work harder,” Edd spoke softly and sadly as he looked down into his lap.
Kevin having just seen his somewhat friend's parents put him down made him uncomfortable and anger, but what pushed him was the sadden look in his eyes. He wanted to say something anything to let them know that they are hurting him, but he never got to. In his anger he never noticed they had arrived in the cul du sac or that Double d was talking to his parents only when Edd opened the car door for him did he snap out of it. Getting out and stretching he looked around and noticed the retreating backs of Double d’s parents.
“Kevin are you okay,” his head snapped to the shorter man his face blank, “ I asked Mother and Father if I could walk with you to your house if that is okay with you of course.”
Shrugging his shoulders he slid his backpack on and started the walk to his house with Edd beside him. “So your parents don’t know you off people for a living,”
“No they do not know and i do not intend to tell them that i am an assassin i mean what would they think of me kevin.”
“Well to be honest they don't seem to think all that good of you dork. If you wanted my honest opinion i think they don't really much care for you, like to them you're more of a um pet.”
“Are you comparing me to an animal kevin.”
“What no i’m saying from what i saw and heard they don’t care for you like like,”
“Like how your parents treat and care you, no one parenting styles are the same kevin anyone with a child can tell you that. Furthermore my parents love me maybe not in the way your parents love you but they love me. See you tomorrow at school Barr.” with that Edd turned and walk back to his home leaving kevin in the middle of the street bewildered.
“Wait what”
Back to the Celtic Island
“Ian and Savannah vincent huh?”
“Yes,”
Rave narrowed his eyes at the duo next to him, “That's strange when you two walked in here you called her grace not savannah.”
Smiling kindly and gently she replied “Grace is my middle name,you must have a fantastic ear and memory to remember that.”
“Well it is nice to meet you as well. Kevin never said he knew another pair of Vincent's other than Eddward and his parents.” Rave almost missed the clenched jaws and twitch of fingers from the raven haired duo.
“Oh yes we haven't seen them in so long i wouldn’t be surprised that Kevin wouldn't remember them.” The red haired male said somewhat nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mh hm so,” picking up some of his sea salt fries and dipping them in ketchup, “how do you 4 know each other if you don't mind me asking.”
“Charlie and i met during work and the wives met through us.” Ian not missing a beat to answer nicely and cleanly.
“Speaking of meeting people we have to go meet those people about the house so.” Charlie intervening in the unlining and sly interrogation.
“Oh right come on honey finish your drink and lets go.”
Downing her drink in one breathe, she stood and turned to face rave and nat,“Well it was nice to meet you Rave and Nathan i can’t wait to see you both again.”
With that the four took their leave, as the the two teens sat at the bar watching them. “Well that was strange right? Goldberg? Goldberg? NATHAN!”
“Huh what did you say sweet cheeks?”
Rolling his eyes Rave picked his shake up and sip through the straw“you okay you seemed out of it, like you were plotting and that is never a good sign.”
“No i'm okay just thinking is all.” Smiling, Nat slipped his hand into raves empty one and brought it to his lips and kissed it.
“Care to share those thoughts,” rave pulled his hand free from from the golden eyed teens loose grip.
“I can show you better than i can tell you beautiful,”
Rave never blushed so much in his life and nat never had so much food thrown in his face before.
Nazz's house
“And then he just walked away and left me in the middle of the street nazz. I mean what the hell is his problem i just said what i thought and from what i saw, they treat him like shit. Who treats their own child like a pet or a person who is not good enough to breathe next to them. Edd is hella worthy, he bust his ass in school and work as an assassin, doctor, and cleaner. Plus he is also taking college courses nazz college. We just started freshman year and he is already a step ahead of everyone in school.”
Nazz sipped her tea watching her best friend pace in her room ranting yelling and sometimes cussing about what happened with the beanie wearing Ed. “so what happened is that you were being a insensitive jerk to Edd and plus you found out that he has a lot on his shoulders and now you feel bad but still pissed off that he just shut you out right.”
Kevin stopped pacing he look at nazz, after a moment he collapsed on her bed and pick up her pink fluffy pillow and screamed his anger and frustration out. After a few minutes of muffled screams he lifted the pillow from his face. “yeah that's basically it i guess, i feel like i should apologise but i also feel like i shouldn't.”
Arching a blonde eyebrow she stood and sat on her bed next to him“And why is that don't you feel bad about what you said?”
“Of course i do but i know that by now he probably told his parents what i said.” He took a deep breath at this know full well that Edd very very likely told them, “I don't mind apologizing to Edd but i meant what i said about his parents and i will say it to their face too.”
“Well at least you want to make amends to double d,” smiling Nazz place her hand on his knee in support, “lucky for you he never misses a day of school and if you need any help to get him to listen i will gladly help.”
Placing his hand over hers he gave a small smile.“Thanks nazz,”
“So,” her sweet smile turning into a mischievous cat like grin, “it's Edd now i thought you called him double dork or dweeb or was it double dweeb?”
Kevin faced palmed and groaned out over Nazz's laughter.“Oh god not you too,”
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rike-with-love · 6 years
Text
A dead rival is no fun
Summary: Okikagu week 2018 day 6: Role Reversal
Pairings: Okikagu
Rating: T for bad language
Disclaimer: I don't own Gintama or it's characters, Sorachi Hideaki does. I only own this story.
Author’s notes: I have a link to my fanfiction masterlist on my profile. Please check it out for more chapters and fics!
A dead rival is no fun
”YOU ARE SO ANNOYING!”
”Heh, heh.”
An umbrella and katana clashed. A pretty ordinary sight in Edo's park. Two rivals going at it with full force. Kagura of the Yorozuya and Okita Sougo of the Shinsengumi, the most infamous duo of Edo. Sometimes they were on the opposite sides, sometimes partnered-up, nevertheless people knew to stay far away from them.
Sougo had managed to piss Kagura off, though it didn't require much of an effort. She threw kicks at him, but he dodged them all. He tried to hit her, but she blocked him every time. Everything seemed to be a well choreographed dance routine. Kagura was always very vocal about killing him, never actually meaning it. Every attack aimed to hurt, but never lethally.
Kagura launched another attack, carried over by a loud battle scream. Sougo smirked and readied his katana. She jumped at him and he read her movement. To Kagura's surprise he dodged instead of blocking. Her sides were open and Sougo landed a kick on her. She dropped her umbrella from the impact and her body slammed on the ground.
Kagura grunted from the pain, cursing his name in her head. She heard him laughing. Her fists clenched and she jumped back on her feet. Sougo had that same sadistic look on his face as he always did. So annoying. Kagura's eyes studied him from a distance, noticing something purple on his hand. Her eyes widened slightly and she gritted her teeth.
”Hey bastard! That's mine, yes!” Kagura shouted.
Sougo swung Kagura's umbrella in his hand, toying with it to make her more angry. ”Oh, not anymore China,” he said casually. ”Finders keepers.”
Kagura felt furious, there was no way she would let him have her umbrella. Sougo made the mistake of turning his back to Kagura. He thought he had a second to mock her verbally before she would attack him again. He thought wrong. Kagura didn't make a sound, she just charged at him.
”I wonder what I'll do with this, maybe I sell it or-,” he managed to say before Kagura's surprise kick hit his back. He hissed and crashed down on his stomach. She grinned victoriously and stomped one foot on his back. She reached to pick her umbrella up and aimed it at his head.
”Hah! The great Gura-san has won again! Admit your defeat Sadist!” Kagura gloated. His answer was silence. ”Oh...did you finally drop dead bastard?”
Still no answer.
”Hey! Sadist?”
She jumped down from him. Kagura felt nervous for some reason. This wouldn't be the first time he had fooled her, but this time something felt wrong. Kagura kneeled next to his head. She poked his shoulder. ”Sadist?” Kagura asked, but no answer.
”Stop playing dead or I'll kill you,” Kagura said. She groaned and rolled Sougo on his back. Kagura gasped from the sight. There was a bleeding wound on his forehead. Then she saw a sharp rock on the ground, tip of it bloody. ”Oh no, not again.”
Kagura realized that she had pushed his head to the rock. Did I kill him? She thought to herself, brows furrowed and eyes filled with regret. This wasn't the first time Kagura had accidentally killed her pet...not that he was her pet, or hers to at all. Still he was sort of her play-mate. ”Dammit,” Kagura hissed and grabbed Sougo by his jacket. She shook him gently, calling his name (not his real name obviously). ”Sadist! Wake up!”
Someone ran next to Kagura. ”What happened here?” he asked. Kagura looked at the strange man.
”He, uh, I, umm...” she stuttered.
”I'm a doctor, let me help,” the man said and moved to examine Sougo. Kagura observed his actions; he checked his breathing, the wound, his pulse. She glanced at Sougo every now and then. His eyes were shut close, the bleeding wound smudging his forehead entirely. He still looked quite peaceful, like he was sleeping.
The doctor turned to Kagura. ”Well, your friend here has a wound, but the bleeding has already clotted quite nicely. There's only a little bit of blood coming out. He is unconscious and needs to rest. I would be more than happy to help you to take him somewhere peaceful.”
Here's what Kagura heard: ”Well...BLOOD...REST...PEACEFUL...”
Kagura glared at the doctor in utter horror. ”I KILLED HIM?” she yelled. The doctor went speechless for a second. Kagura couldn't believe herself, she didn't mean to hurt him.
The doctor came back to his senses and tried to calm the shaken girl. ”No, no. He's not dead, only unconscious.”
”That's even worse, yes?” Kagura asked and hastily pushed the doctor out of her way. ”I'll save him!”
”Bu-but,” the doctor mumbled on the ground. Kagura slipped one hand under Sougo's back and the other one under his knees. She used her monstrous strength to pick the passed out captain from the ground. The doctor's jaw dropped. Sougo was much taller and heavier than Kagura, but she still hoisted him up.
”Thank you mr. doctor!” she said, voice not affected by holding a grown man with her arms. Then she ran towards the Shinsengumi compound. The doctor got up and dusted his clothes a bit. He stared at the strange sight of a girl carrying a man.
”Hey! He's just unconscious, he's going to be fine!!!” the doctor shouted after them, but Kagura was already too far away to hear. The man thought is was best to follow them, just in case.
Kagura ran with full speed across the streets. She had Sougo in her arms, jiggling with her steps, remaining unconscious. Maybe it was better that way...being carried bridal style by a woman might be a blow to certain someone's ego.
Gintoki and Shinpachi were taking a walk as well. ”Gin-san, why did you buy so many JUMPs? They are the same copy after all,” Shinpachi said.
”Yare, yare Shinpachi...it's my new side business,” Gintoki said with a smug smile. ”I'm going to buy a lot of JUMPs in mint conditions, and then I'll sell them to collectors, mh.”
Shinpachi sighed. ”Gin-san...JUMPs aren't that rare...it could take years before-”
”Silence! You're just jealous Patsuan,” Gintoki said confidently. Shinpachi rolled his glasses, I mean eyes, I mean glasses rolled their Shinpachi and left the matter at that. Then they saw a red beast running with a cloud of dust after it. ”HUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAHHHHH-AARUUUUU!” the beast howled as it passed them.
Gintoki and Shinpachi stopped walking. ”Gin-san?”
”Shinpachi?”
”Was that...Kagura?”
”No.”
”Carrying...”
”No.”
”Okita-san?”
”No, absolutely not. Let's go home Pachi-boy.”
*
*
”Hang in there sadist!” Kagura shouted as they entered the Shinsengumi compound. All the officers that saw them froze on their spots, mouths gaped open, eyes even wider. Kagura carried Sougo inside the quarters and saw Kondo and Hijikata drinking some mayonnaise and banana flavoured tea. ”Mayora! Gorilla-stalker!”
Hijikata and Kondo turned to look at her and spat their drinks like fire-hydrates. Kagura leaped over to them, huffing and puffing from all the running. ”Help me! I accidentally killed the Sadist!”
Both men got up and hurried to Kagura's aid. Hijikata was the first to notice the blood on Sougo. ”What happened?” he asked with ever growing worry. ”What do you mean you killed him?”
”No, he's not dead!” a panting man said. Kondo and Hijikata glanced at the man who was walking to them. ”I tried to explain to her, he's only unconscious.”
”And who are you?” Hijikata asked.
”It's not important. I'm a doctor and I saw these two youngsters at the park,” the man said. ”I checked it, his wound isn't serious.”
Kondo and Hijikata felt great relief, but Kagura was confused. She turned around with Sougo. ”Wh-what? Why didn't you tell me-aru?”
”I did tell you, I think you went into shock, actually you still are,” the doctor said.
”You did good China-girl, you brought Sougo back home,” Kondo said and patted her head. Kagura's body trembled a little, sweat glistening on her forehead. ”Ma, you must be exhausted.”
”She's clearly in shock, paleness, shaking and her behaviour is confusing. All of those are symptoms of a shock.”
Hijikata felt her forehead with his hand. ”It's coldsweat,” he said. Kagura looked at all three men talking around her. Then her eyes dropped to Sougo. She felt really happy that she hadn't killed him, a dead rival wasn't as fun as a breathing one.
”So he just needs rest?”
”That's right. And so does her.”
”Okay, do you mind patching up his wound doc?” Hijikata asked.
”I'm happy to be of service.”
Hijikata turned to Kagura, he saw her gazing Sougo, there was something in her eyes, a feeling Hijikata recognized. He had to slap himself mentally to focus on Sougo. ”Alright, I'll take him off your hands, now.”
Kagura's eyes darted at him. ”NO!” she said and took a step back. ”No.”
The doctor and Hijikata shared a look. Kondo walked next to Kagura. Her hands digged into Sougo's clothing, it was like she was protecting him, not wanting to let go. ”Kagura-chan, how about you take Sougo here to his room, he needs to rest,” Kondo said calmly. Kagura looked at Kondo, then Sougo and back at Kondo. She nodded a couple of times. Kondo patted her back and guided her to the right direction.
An hour later at Sougo's room, he had been placed to rest on his futon. His forehead was patched up by the doctor and everything seemed to be fine. Kagura was sitting against a wall, curled up and shaking. Hijikata brought her a blanket. The doctor had advised them to keep her warm and make sure that she gets some sleep.
Hijikata lowered himself to Kagura's level. ”Are you okay?” he asked, she nodded slowly and forced a small smile on her face. Kondo placed a hand on Hijikata's shoulder.
”Let's go Toshi.” Hijikata got up and the two men left. Kagura snuggled better with blanket, feeling a little sleepy. So she gave in and closed her eyes.
*
*
A few hours later, Kagura woke up. It was already pretty late, the only source of light was a small lantern on the floor. It must be night already, she thought. It took a moment for Kagura to realize where she was and why she was there. It all came back to her as her eyes landed on Sougo. He was still sleeping.
Kagura left her blanket and quietly crawled closer to her sleeping rival. She kneeled next to him and watched his chest heaving peacefully. She felt glad that she didn't kill him, but she never wanted to injure him, not like this. It was an accident, but so were those other times I hurt something that was important to me. WAIT, did I just think that Sadist here is important to me? Kagura thought to herself.
Maybe he is, she admitted. The thought of saying it to him made her heart flutter for some reason. Kagura was sure that he would laugh her off if she would tell him anything.
Kagura decided to leave, to go home. Before that, she had something important to do. Kagura leaned closer to Sougo's ear. ”I'm sorry,” she whispered. Then she backed away to leave.
A hand grabbed her hand. Kagura gasped from surprise. ”China?”
Sougo's eyes were open, he was looking at her. Kagura pulled her hand away from his grip. He was quiet, he didn't resist her action. ”Oh, I didn't know you were awake...”
Sougo hummed. ”I woke up a moment ago, then your knees stomping against the floor took care of the rest.”
”I didn't stomp!”
Sougo hushed her by pressing his finger on his lips. ”Don't yell dummy, it's night-time,” he said. Kagura pressed her lips together and looked away from him. Everything he said felt like he hated her, for what she did to him.
Sougo sat up, gently pressing his forehead. Kagura observed him secretly. He hissed a bit when his hand found the wound. Kagura's head popped up. ”Are you okay?” she asked hastily. Sougo glanced at her, eyes a bit confused.
He reached his hand to touch her forehead. ”Are you sick?” he asked.
”No...”
Sougo pulled his hand back. ”Then why are you being so weird?”
”Huh? Don't you remember?”
Sougo scratched his head and shook his head. Kagura swallowed nervously, she wanted to tell him. ”I-I thought I killed you...”
”What?” Sougo asked, eyebrows rising.
”I mean...I pushed you and you hit your head,” she explained, avoiding his piercing sight. ”Then a doctor told me that you were dead, or so I heard...and then I carried you-”
”Carried me? You?” Kagura's made a quick eye-contact with him. Sougo was in between amused and embarrassed, it was hard to tell.
”Yeah, I carried you from the park to here and then the doctor followed and then you weren't dead, then Mayora tried to take you away and then you were all bloody and then-” heavy, almost hysterical panting drowned her words. Kagura had to stop talking as she couldn't breath properly. She dropped her head on her lap. Sougo reacted quickly and he shifted closer to her.
”Hey, hey. Calm down China,” Sougo said calmly. He raised his hand to pat her back, after a second of hesitation he touched her. Kagura didn't even notice at first when he comforted her. She tried to calm her breathing. It became very clear for her how afraid she really had been at that moment. ”Are you okay?”
Kagura exhaled deeply and raised her head up, only to see Sougo up close, very close. Their faces were inches apart, the sensation making her heart race. ”Uh, yeah...” she said quietly and sat back up, covering her warm cheeks with her hands.
Sougo was still looking at her. ”What was that China?” he was too curious to pretend nothing happened.
”I-uh...”
”You're still shaking. Were you that worried about me?”
Kagura took another deep breath, she couldn't talk her way out of this one. ”Yeah...I though I had accidentally killed you...” Sougo tilted his head a bit. Was this the same obnoxious girl he knew? She was almost...adorable, he thought.
”I didn't mean to-”
”Stop it.”
Kagura jumped a bit, he sounded angry. ”Stop it...don't be stupid.”
”Stupid?”
”Yeah. We have fought many times before. I know you wouldn't do anything...you know, too serious,” Sougo said, his voice quieting down a bit.
Kagura's eyes brightened up a little. ”You do? How-aru?”
Sougo turned his face to his side. He mumbled something, but she couldn't even get one word clear. ”Did you say something?” she asked.
Sougo sighed, looking very frustrated. ”I SAID that I wouldn't ever hurt you seriously. That's how I know you wouldn't either.”
Kagura's heart jumped. Why it made her feel so giddy when he said that, she wondered. Sougo rubbed his forehead a little. Kagura recognized his facial expression, it was pain. ”What's wrong?” she asked and leaned her whole body closer to him.
Their arms brushed a bit, making them both twitch a little. ”It's my head, just a little headache,” Sougo said.
”I know what to do,” Kagura said cheerfully. She backed away from him and crawled at the end of his futon. His eyes followed her every movement. Kagura removed his pillow and kneeled on the spot. ”Come here.”
Sougo frowned his brows. What was China girl thinking, he though. Kagura patted her lap twice. ”Get here dummy, I'll help you, yes,” Kagura said. Sougo moved closer to her and she patted her lap again. Sougo pointed at her lap with his finger and then himself. Kagura nodded and smiled.
Sougo dragged himself very close to her and softly and a little nervously laid his head on her lap. She felt softer than he had expected. As it was a reflex, his whole body relaxed. Last time he felt that blissfully calm was when his sister held him like this. Their position felt very intimate for him, he wouldn't lay his head to just anyone's lap.
Kagura looked down at Sougo, his eyes closed and face completely relaxed. She hummed quietly, this was very intimate for her as well. Kagura knew her mother had done this for Kamui and Umibouzu. For her it was a gentle affection of love...
Kagura stroked his head, feeling his soft flaxen hair tickle her nicely. She would have expected his hair to be rough and slimy, but no, smooth and clean all the way. Kagura sort of pulled his hair back. She traced her fingers gently from front to back, carefully avoiding his forehead.
Sougo let out a loud breath of satisfaction. His eyes popped open. Their eyes locked. Kagura was smiling at him, making him blush. It wasn't like him to show his emotions so openly. Sougo tried to escape, but she kept him in place.
”Don't move,” Kagura said to him, voice soft, eyes softer. Sougo pulled his blanket up to his chin. Feeling this vulnerable around someone felt scary...but at the same time, it felt good. Kagura ran her fingers on his cheeks, barely touching him. Sougo grabbed her hands immediately.
”China, you're freezing,” he said. Kagura shrugged and glanced at her blanket on the floor.
”It's a little chilly here...doesn't the Shinsengumi have enough funds to keep the place warm?” Kagura teased. Sougo snorted and let go of her hands. ”Hold on Sadist,” she said and prepared to fetch her thin blanket.
”Wait,” Sougo said firmly. Kagura halted her movement at his word. ”Uh...China.”
”Mmh?”
Sougo felt his face burning from the thought he had. He tried to talk himself out of it in his head, a futile effort. His brain wasn't the one giving orders at the moment, it was his heart. Sougo grabbed his blanket with one hand and pulled it partly off him. She looked at him intensely. Sougo almost pulled the covers back and planned to brush the whole thing off as a joke. But he didn't.
”Come here.”
Kagura's eyes widened, heart racing faster than before. ”W-what?”
”You're cold...and it's warm here. That's all,” he muttered, voice not even close to casual, almost sweet actually. Kagura smiled at his bold suggestion.
”O-okay.”
Sougo swallowed. Okay, get yourself together, this isn't like that, it's only practical, he convinced to himself. Kagura motioned him to lift his head. She replaced her lap with his pillow. Sougo didn't know where to direct his eyes. If he stared at her, it would be too weird. If he looked away, it would be too weird. He felt ridiculous.
Kagura wasn't cool as cucumber herself either. Heart beating out of her chest, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. I'll be there for just a couple of seconds, to warm myself up, uh-huh, she thought to herself. Sougo got up for a second and Kagura sat right next to him. To her surprise he began to strip. He took his jacket off, then his vest, and then his cravat.
”Oi! What are you up to?” Kagura asked, ready to jump off the futon.
Sougo side-eyed her. ”I don't want to sleep with my entire uniform on,” he said casually (mentally face-palming himself a thousand times for being so stupid. He wasn't undressing for her, but it seemed to her like he was). Kagura had her black pants, red cheongsam and a light pink top underneath. She turned her back to him and took off her cheongsam, it was a pain to sleep in it. That appeared to be the moment Kagura decided to sleep next to him.
Sougo left his pants on for obvious reasons, he also left his white shirt on, but opened up some of the buttons. Sougo turned to face her. ”You know China, I  didn't-” he almost choked on his spit as he saw Kagura. She had removed her hair ornaments, letting her shoulder-length hair run wild. She had black pants a teeny tiny top on her.
Kagura placed her hands awkwardly on her chest. Did she look so ridiculous in his eyes, she wondered. Sougo pulled himself together and tried to ignore her appearance. ”Alright then,” he said.
Sougo laid on the bed, giving her half of the space and half of the pillow. Kagura laid next to him, arms and legs almost touching with his. Both had a hard time breathing normally, weird right? Sougo turned to his side and pulled the blanket over them. Their eyes met briefly, making the situation somewhat tingling.
Kagura turned to her side, her back facing him. ”Don't try anything funny, yes,” Kagura said. Sougo's default answer would have been ”No worries China. I wouldn't touch you even with a foot long pole.” But no, he didn't say that. That would have been a lie, he had a growing desire to touch her. It wasn't a sexual desire, it was actually an emotional desire to feel her closer to him.
”I won't,” he said, voice as neutral as possible, but silently cursing himself for being a wuss.
”Yup, good night Sadist.”
”Night China.”
The little lantern's light was very dim. It gave the room an orange light. Kagura was used sleep in total darkness. It was a little harder to fall asleep with a light on. Also, it might have had some effect, that she had a man next to her, Okita freaking Sougo was sleeping next to her.
It was hard to tell, but maybe a half an hour later Kagura was still wide awake. She was still freezing and it kept her up. Kagura pulled the cover up to her neck and she shivered a little. ”Are you still freezing?” Sougo asked quietly.
Kagura turned to look at him, his eyes were as awake as hers. ”Yeah, sorry if I'm keeping you up,” she said. Kagura jumped as Sougo’s hand landed on her shoulder. She felt him pulling her, and she let him. Sougo pulled Kagura on her back and then to lay on her other side, now she was facing him.
Sougo moved his hand over to hers. Kagura's hands were curled up against her chest. His hands felt warm. ”I'll warm you up,” Sougo said and motioned her to come closer. Kagura felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest. He pressed both of her hands against his chest. Sougo covered her hands with both of his. He warmed up her hands, but more than that he warmed up her heart.
Kagura stared into his crimson eyes, unable to look anywhere else. His orbs were glued to hers as well. She smiled bashfully as Sougo stroked her hands. ”Getting any warmer?” he asked.
”Uh-huh, but...” she said.
”But what?”
”My legs are still a little cold.”
”Wrap them around mine,” he said without thinking about it.
”O-okay,” she said and tangled her legs with him.
The silence returned between them. Only glances were shared and small innocent touches.
”Do you feel weird?” Kagura asked. She was being the brave one to address the situation first.
”A little yeah,” he admitted.
”...Do you want to stop?”
”...no...”
”Me either-aru.”
Those were the last words exchanged that night. The warmness of the bed they shared did it's job. Both Sougo and Kagura began to drift asleep, with idiotic smiles plastered on their faces.
*
*
The next morning an angry resident barged into the Shinsengumi compound. Hijikata was the first one to see the silver-haired samurai, followed by walking glasses. ”WHERE THE HELL IS OUR KAGURA?”
”Good morning to you too,” Hijikata grunted.
Gintoki walked to the vice-commander and yanked his jacket. ”Don't you good morning me, where's Kagura?” he asked. ”I know that sadistic bastard has tricked her to come here.”
Hijikata pushed Gintoki away, face annoyed to the max. ”Oi! Would you calm down,” Hijikata hissed. ”She's here.”
Gintoki and Glasseschi were shocked, they were only almost certain that Kagura was there. ”She is?” Gintoki asked.
Hijikata lit up a cigarette and explained the whole thing from beginning to end. ”...after I turned on the lantern and checked the room for the last time, both were sound to sleep, SEPERATELY.”
Gintoki and Shinpachi sighed from relief. ”Come, I'll take you to her,” Hijikata said. Later he would regret doing so.
Hijikata slid Sougo's door open and slammed it close right away. Gintoki frowned his brows. ”What's wrong?” he asked.
Hijikata laughed nervously. ”O-oh, silly me. Wrong room!” he said. Gintoki and the person made of glass weren't buying Hijikata's act.
”Move!” Gintoki said and Hijikata stepped away. The angry samurai yanked the door open. Gintoki saw his life flashing by him. He was so dead. Umibouzu was personally going to take care of that.
Glassman pushed the stunned Gintoki out of his way. He walked into the room. ”What are you freaking about Gin-san, It's only Okita-san and OHMYGOD!”
The situation seemed far worse than it actually was. Sougo's shirt was partly open and Kagura's dress was thrown next to the bed. They were sleeping face to face. Her head was burrowed against his chest. His left hand was supporting and holding her head. The other hand was on her lower back, keeping her closer to him. Kagura had even thrown her other leg over his hip. They looked like two lovers snuggled up.
”God dammit Hijikata! How could you let this happen?” Gintoki roared and shook the officer by his shoulders. The glasses had already left the building, the sight was too much for a love-sick virgin. Kagura woke up to Gintoki's screaming.
”Shit...” she mumbled.
”Pretend you don't hear them,” Sougo whispered, apparently he had woken up too. To Gintoki's further horror Sougo pulled the blanket over his and Kagura's heads. The samurai heard a familiar girly giggle sound come under the blanket.
”You're so dead Souichiro-kun! Kagura! Stop torturing me!” Gintoki shout-cried, which earned him a sweet giggle and a malicious chuckle from under the covers.
*
*
Meanwhile in space. Umibouzu felt a strange feeling in his gut. A striking, ominous pain. ”What's wrong baldie?” A cheerful voice asked.
”Oh, Kamui. I think something terrible has happened to Kagura, I can feel it.”
Kamui laughed. ”Stop being crazy old man. It's not like Kagura got a boyfriend or anything, right?”
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ladywinchester1967 · 6 years
Text
Mr. and Mrs. Winchester
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Pairing: Dean x Female Character
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female (Dean’s Wife)
Warnings: Language, SMUT, quickie sex, robbery (for a good reason). 
A/N: Based on THIS POST it’s a continuation of my comment, but I changed a couple of things around so that it was cohesive and made sense. Unbeta’d, as usual, all mistakes are mine. Pictures and gifs are NOT, I found them on Pinterest and tumblr. 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This was one of those stakeouts I knew we were dreading, but in our line of work, it was a necessary evil.
The Winchester Brothers and I had been tracking a cursed necklace. Made of opals that had been soaked in the blood of virgins, it promised to grant the wearer immense wealth and power, but as with most things, no one ever reads the fine print. The wearer was cursed to die in horrific ways. The horrid history of the necklace was well documented, which of course meant it attracted a wealthy clientele to it. Jody Mills, a Sheriff in Sioux Falls that we were close with, had tipped us off to the necklace’s whereabouts so we decided to put on our best outfits and bid for the necklace so we could get rid of it or lock it away in one of our boxes.
Sam; dressed in a snappy navy blue suit with his chestnut brown hair perfectly combed, went ahead of Dean and I. Dean looked as dashing as ever; the grey suit with matching tie and crisp white shirt he wore perfectly brought out his green eyes and set well against his tanned skin.
His grip tightened on my hand as I took a misstep in the heels I was wearing.
“You okay there?” He chided me gently.
“I’m fine,” I insisted “these are a little higher than what I’m used to.”
I had on a pair of black stilettos, where I was normally more comfortable in wedge heels. The wine red dress with lace overlay perfectly accentuated my skin and matched the blood red lipstick I wore.
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I’d gone bold and wore black, winged eyeliner and styled my hair in curls.
“Gotta say,” Dean muttered in my ear as we flashed the fake invitations Sam had crafted for us and we strode into the party like we owned the place “I easily have the best looking date in this place.”
I looked around, most of the people attending were decades older than we were. I already looked young and had been mistaken for a teenager more times than I cared to count.
“We’re married,” I told him, a blush rising on my cheeks “you’re supposed to say that.”
“I only tell you the truth.” He said and planted a kiss on my cheek as we made our way to the bar. Sam made an appearance a minute later, after Dean secured a beer for himself and a glass of wine for me.
“No sign of the necklace yet.” Sam said
“Probably keeping it locked up until it’s time to bid.” I pointed out as a man handed each of us a booklet showing us the items up for auction that night.
“So we bid for the necklace, get it and that’s it?” Dean asked “Seems a little too easy when the bidding prices start at fifty thousand dollars.” He pointed to a tiara in the booklet that had once belonged to Mary Tudor.
“We don’t actually have to cough up fifty thousand dollars,” I reminded him “I’ll bid for it and when I win; one of you creates a diversion while the other grabs the necklace and then it’s a hop, skip and an Impala ride back to the bunker.”
“It’s solid, but we still have to plan for the unexpected.” Sam countered
“Which is why I distract with my womanly assets, if you catch my drift.”
My dress showed off JUST enough of my cleavage and legs, plus the boys always teased that I could flirt my way to world power if really wanted to. Dean chuckled as the three of us moved into the main room of the mansion, on display were some of the items up for auction. Next to the tiara, was a hat worn by Napoleon, a piece of music handwritten by Beethoven; the list seemed to read off like a “who’s who” of history all in one room.
“And these people will pay THROUGH THE NOSE for it.” I told Dean as we came up to a ruby and emerald encrusted bracelet. He hummed in agreement as I admired the bracelet, his hand lightly brushing my hip. I felt the corners of my mouth slide upward as his hand snaked around to my lower back and he leaned into my ear.
“All this money and fancy shit in this room,” he practically growled, his fingertips running over the small of my back “and all I can think about is getting you outta that dress and naked under me.”
I nearly spit out my wine, such brazen words in close proximity to people who probably hadn’t thought about sex since hoop skirts were in fashion! I gingerly wiped the corners of my mouth and looked up at him, he was grinning ear to ear, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
With a jaw line sharp enough to cut glass, JUST the right amount of scruff and those green eyes set, I struggled to maintain my composure.
“That look,” I thought “he could make me come just by staring at me like that.”
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His hand barely brushed my backside before a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine.
“May I help you?” I asked, my mouth going into a grin.
His fingers ran up my back, barely grazing my skin; the only barrier being the thin lace overlay that covered my shoulder.
“Oh, I think I can help myself JUST fine.” He said. His tone was gravely but there was no hesitation in it as he gave me the legendary Winchester smirk. The one that made a girl’s knees turn to jelly and turned them into a writhing mess.
“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you Mr. Winchester?” I asked, taking a sip of my wine. I reached forward with my free hand, catching his jacket in my hand. He leaned into my ear and said
“No, Mrs. Winchester, I can’t.”
Damn him, he had me eating out of the palm of his hand!
I flashed my eyes up at him and gave him a grin.
“You wanna get out of here?” I asked, nodding elsewhere into the house.
He tipped the last of his beer into his mouth, droplets of it lingering on his gorgeous mouth.
“Hell yeah.” He said
I knocked back the rest of my wine in a very unladylike fashion and said
“Let’s go then handsome.”
We gave our glass and bottle to a passing waiter who offered to take them for us as we walked back to the bar. It was mostly empty by this point and I spied a staircase. I squeezed Dean’s left wrist and nodded up the stairs. He looked and then his eyes met mine, giving me a subtle nod. My hand briefly brushed over the back of his, my fingers grazing the thin band on his fourth finger, making me grin like a fool. I sauntered up the stairs, putting an extra sway in my hips, knowing full well that his eyes were glued to my ass. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I went straight down a hallway and looked for an unlocked room. It took some doing, but by my fifth attempt, a door popped open and I stepped inside. I felt around for a light switch and found one; this room looked like it was used for storage, as there were shelves full of banker’s boxes on them. I quickly texted Dean my location and I waited. I was practically bouncing with anticipation when the door easily and quietly opened and he slid inside, quickly shoving a chair under the handle and shutting the light off.
“What happened?!” I hissed as I felt around for him in the dark.
I felt his hands grab mine and he said
“Got caught looking for you,” in my ear “had to make a security guard go night night.”
“I can’t take you anywhere.” I teased as my lips found his, warm and soft; always eagerly waiting to kiss mine.
“Shoulda known that from the start.” He said breathlessly as we wrapped our arms around each other, wrapping into another heated kiss. My tongue pressed and swirled with his, making a connection that was both familiar and exciting at the same time as his fingers dug into my ass.
“I wanna take my time,” he moaned “but we’re on the clock.”
“A quickie this round,” I told him as I pulled back and then unbuckled his belt “then you can ravage me later.”
I heard him chuckle as he hiked my dress up over my hips.
“Oh, I plan on it.” He told me as we furiously kissed, our hands and mouths seeming to cover every inch of skin we could get to. He backed me into a shelf, his mouth attacking my neck as I pushed his jacket down off of his broad shoulders. He hiked my dress up, the fabric bunching up around my chest, I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then turned around, grinding my ass into his hardened length.
“Mh,” he said and gripped the meat of my backside “just like that.”
I yanked my dress up a little higher as he pulled my panties down and I heard the familiar drop of his pants hitting the ground. I spread my legs a little wider and his substantial length slid inside me, both of us sighing. He gripped my hips and fully sheathed himself, hitting my sweet spot. I cried out and snapped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out too loudly.
“Fuck,” he said quietly “so fucking wet sweetheart.”
He started to pound into me, the sound of his skin cracking against mine and the rustling of fabric coursing through the small room.
“Oh fuck!” I moaned as I gripped the shelf hard, it felt like being consumed by fire, the heat from between my legs filled the rest of my body while his grunts in my ear and breathless promises of what he was going to do to me later only added fuel to the fire.
“Dean, oh god Dean!” I cried out
He pulled out and spun me around. In one fluid motion, he picked me up and slammed back inside me, my back against the shelf. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he kissed me, nailing my sweet spot with such accuracy, it nearly brought tears to my eyes.
“That’s it,” he moaned against my chest as my thighs clenched around him and my nails dug into his shoulders “fuck sweetheart, you’re so fucking sexy.” His hands held my face as I snapped my hips into him and I could feel him smiling as he kissed me “so eager, you wanna come sweetheart?”
“Please,” I begged as I kissed him “please Dean, make me come.”
“Mh,” he said between another blistering kiss “you know how much I love it when you beg for me.”
“Please Mr. Winchester?” I asked, pulling out the last stop I could think of. That was one of the sentences I KNEW would get him good and fired up. It was like a switch flipped and he pounded into me hard as he moaned into my mouth. I was right there at the edge, squirming and moving my hips with his as best as I could. I slipped my hand between our bodies and furiously rubbed my clit as I felt his movements falter and he cried out against my mouth, spilling into me as he gripped me hard. I let go, biting his lip as I exploded around him. Our labored breathing filled the room as we heard what sounded like a troop of people walk past the door.
“Did you see which way he went?” One voice asked
“No, but I know exactly what he looks like!” The second voice shouted.
“Can’t have gone far, search every room in the house if you have to!” The first voice instructed.
We waited until it sounded like they were gone before either of us spoke.
“I think that’s our cue to get the hell out of here.” Dean said as he pulled out of me.
“This is exactly why I can’t take you anywhere.” I told him as we put ourselves back together. For the first time, I noticed a blueish glow in the darkened room and I asked “Is your phone ringing or something?”
I heard him reach in his pocket and grab his phone. He switched on the flashlight and said “No, why?”
His face had a thin sheen of sweat on it and red smudges of my lipstick all over his mouth and cheeks.
“Cut that light off.” I told him and he did. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness again, I followed the blue light to the back of the room and saw it was coming from a very small crack in the floor. “Dean, look at this.” I said and pointed it out. I crouched down and felt around until I found a tab with my fingers and pulled up. Inside was a glass case that held the necklace. Encrusted with black diamonds and nine dark opals ranging in size; I could practically feel the dark energy rolling off of it. I reached for the handle to the case when we heard the door to the room rattle.
“Fuck.” Dean swore as someone furiously jiggled the handle.
I quickly opened the case and shoved the necklace into my purse.
“Got it?” Dean asked and I nodded. “Window.” He told me and we rushed further back into the room toward a window as the door got kicked in. Dean quickly shattered the window, glass raining down on the floor, making an alarm sound. He jumped down a few feet before opening his arms to me. I glanced back as two guys twice my size ran toward me. I secured my purse and jumped out of the window and safely into his arms. Once I hit the ground, I took my shoes off and we ran for the back of the property. We tore through a grove of trees, roots and brambles scraped and cut my feet, before hanging a sharp right and jumping a low, stone wall into the next yard. Dean grabbed my shoulder and motioned toward the road where his Impala was parked.
“They’re not gonna let up,” he told me “we have to move.”
“What about Sam?!” I hissed as we heard thunderous footsteps approach.
Dean quickly scooped me up and we hid in the shadow of a large oak tree.
We heard a low whistle that sounded like a bird and we waited as the footsteps came to a stop. I knew that whistle and looked up at Dean, who answered with a whistle of his own.
Another pause, and the same whistle answered and I peeked around the trunk of the tree to see a familiar outline in the shadows. I sharply tapped the back of Dean’s hand with my fingernail and signaled for him to look. He did and hissed
“Sam?!”
The tell tale crunch of leaves followed Sam’s face showing in the moonlight.
“That alarm went off so I’m assuming you got the necklace.” Sam said in his sassiest tone.
“Correction, I got the necklace.” I said and held up my purse “let’s get the hell out of here before someone finds us.”
As soon as the sentence left my mouth. We heard more people walking and shouting things at each other.
“Hop on Thumbelina!” Dean said and turned his back to me.
I jumped on him, piggy back style, and held on as he as Sam navigated down the hill and back to the Impala. Once we were inside and down the road, I threw the necklace into a warded box and locked it tightly.
“There!” I said triumphantly “We lock this away in the bunker or one of our lock ups and we’re solid.”
“Great work back there everyone.” Dean said as he pulled on to the highway.
“Dean, what’s all over your face?” Sam asked, finally getting a good look at Dean. Sam swiped a finger across a red smudge in’s Dean’s face and Dean grinned when Sam showed him his finger.
“My wife’s lipstick.” He said proudly.
From the back seat, she laughed and Sam groaned loudly.
“I’m never going on a stakeout with you two again!” He exclaimed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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