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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

can you write about harry helping reader cope with really bad anxiety ?

this is going to be based off the anxiety that i’m more aware of, but i appreciate that it’s different for everyone and i apologise if it isn’t accurate to you <33

The world felt like it was about to end.

It was as if the sky was pushing in to the ground and decompressing you and your lungs. It was like the ground was about to swallow you whole and your legs were too glued to save yourself. There was this heaviness on your shoulders that weighed as much as a car, sinking you until you drowned. You were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to overcome this feeling.

You stood to the side of the stage with shaky hands, holding your script tight. People moved all around you, rushing to make sure everything was in place backstage for the on stage, completely ignoring you. It was as if you were invisible, so much so that someone actually bumped into you and didn’t even apologise. It made you feel quite insignificant and only boosted your mentality for not being able to do this.

You were at a competition, see. A poetry competition.

Harry had encouraged you, about a month ago now to be brave and enter yourself in for this competition. It was called ‘Prized Poetry’ and it was a huge thing in London, where poetry laureates such as Carol Ann Duffy and Simon Armitage have performed before - and now he was a judge too. You’d had to submit an entry form at first, explaining why you should be given the chance to enter the competition. Harry had spent hours going over it with you, perfecting to the every syllable. You’d gotten through, obviously with your talent, and made it to the first stage. Then the second stage, third, fourth and now fifth. The fifth and final stage.

Your previous poems were a mixture of long sad poems, haiku poems and even a short story just to see how well your talent for writing really was. You’d passed with flying colours every single time and you couldn’t have done it without Harry. He was there for every late night, with a cup of tea or a second opinion, you spent changing and tweaking your work. He was there with flowers after every single performance, after he’d spent the entire show watching you with awe. Every single time he’d cried. Every single time he’d kissed you with pride. Every single time he came. Not today, though.

Unfortunately, for you and for Harry, he was in New York doing some press for a jewellery brand that he was the new face of. He had called you last night, explaining that he didn’t know whether he’d be able to make it or not. He couldn’t face-time you though, because seeing the disappointment on your face would have killed him inside and he was selfish for that.

“Hello!” You excitedly shouted to him down the phone.

“Hi, baby.” Harry replied, his tone of voice sounding quite flat in comparison to yours.

“Uh oh. Someone’s sounding sad.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, before breathing a deep sigh. You just knew he was stroking a stressed hand through his fluffy hair, with his eyebrows furrowed too and all you wanted to do was kiss them away.

“What’s up, sunshine?” You asked, hoping the little nickname would help him feel a bit more yellow.

“Y/N…” Well that wasn’t a good sign if he was calling you by your proper name, “I.. God I don’t know how to tell you this the right way…”

You knew. You had a feeling and you just knew. It had been a worry you’d had at the back of your mind ever since he got on the plane to leave for New York, but hoped that it wouldn’t ever become real. Unfortunately, that’s what it had come to.

“You can’t come tomorrow night, can you?” You asked quietly, your mood quite grey now. There was a little dark thunderstorm rolling in over your head and it would stay there until you could find some sunshine again - find some yellow.

“N-no. No I can’t.” Harry sighed heavily and it weighed upon your shoulders than probably his.

“O-okay.” You tried your best to not make him feel bad, because he was 4,000 miles away and you weren’t there to hug his cries away.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Truly. So sorry.”

“No it’s okay. It can’t be helped, you know?” You let out the slightest of chuckles to try and lighten the situation, but you felt so heavy and grey.

“But you’re going to be amazing. I just know it. We’ve practiced it so many times and your poem is just stunning, there’s no way they can’t like it.” Harry tried his attempt at cheering you up, knowing all the doubts that were creeping into your mind in that moment. He wished he could hug you, because then at least that would mean he was there with you and ready to take a seat in an audience that he was sure you were going to win the competition of.

“Thank you.” You smiled, only slightly.

“I love you, Y/N.” Harry reminded you, almost terrified that this would somehow make you un-love him and leave him. You could never. Would never.

“And I love you, H.” You meant it.

“Get some rest now, okay? I’ll call you before your performance tomorrow, alright?”

He hadn’t called.

Your eyes started to tear up at the thought of him not being here. You couldn’t do this without him. You didn’t know how to.

Anxiety is something that you’ve suffered with for a very long time, but managed to overcome facing different situation. It always felt like the world was about to end, for you. It was an unstoppable feeling, unless Harry was there. Harry had this aura around him that brought you peace and calm. He made you feel easy and powerful. He was the reason that you’d gotten this far in the competition, because you would always know he was in the crowd watching you - feeding you his power and making you brave.

Your lungs ached at the thought of you being powerless today. There was no being brave today. No Harry, that was the worst factor of all. Not only did you need him here to remind you that you were alright, but you wanted him to be here. This was such a big thing for you to be doing and you’d love for someone to watch and be proud of you. Your parents were never going to be those people and you were lucky that you had Harry instead. Only, now it felt like you didn’t.

“Y/N, you’re on next.” A man with a clipboard and a headset spoke to you and brought you away from your shaking thoughts.

“O-oh okay.” Your eyes were wide with terror and your hands shook a little more. You had taken some pills to calm you down, before, but your anxiety was that bad that you felt at any moment your knees would crumble underneath you and be victorious on showing how powerless you were without Harry - without someone to support you and be proud of you.

“Our next talent is a woman who has inspired us all with her writing. Her scores have been the best in the competition so far, but will she able to actually hold up that trophy by the end of the night?” No, you thought, as the man on stage introduced you to the audience of 500 and the judges.

He walked off and gave you the thumbs up to walk on. Your legs needed a bit of persuading to actually move, but once you were anyone could tell that they were shaking nerves. Your body language gave away that you were completely out of your element and that this wasn’t easy for you. The spotlight on the stage blinded you and you found it hard to actually see anyone in the audience, let alone the judging panel.

There was a podium where you would stand and perform your piece, so you walked over to it, tripping slightly on the step up. Bloody heels. You felt like everyone was laughing at you then, your head swarming with all kinds of whispers they would be chattering;

‘What is she doing up there when she can’t even walk without shaking?’ ‘Is she really worthy of all these high scores?’ ‘She looks nervous.’ ‘Why is she even here if she can’t stop her hands from shaking?’

One of the judges cleared their throat in the microphone before talking. “Miss L/N, you know the rules. No prompts or paper with poetry.”

His tone made you blush and tears creeped into your eyes. You were so stupid to have brought your poem with you. Your hands shook as you didn’t know what to do with it. You felt so exposed up here, as if people in the back row could hear your heart about to beat, beat, beat out of your chest. Your throat felt dry and you just didn’t know what to do.

You wanted Harry.

“S-sorry.” You stuttered out, sounding so unsure of yourself which probably didn’t look good in a speaking competition for your poetry.

“Someone please come take Miss L/Ns paper please?” The same judge asked and then you saw someone run over to your side to collect the paper.

“Be brave.”

You turned as the touch of the persons hand kissed against your skin, electrifying your body like a tree on Christmas day.

He was here. Harry was here.

The tears in your eyes grew, but Harry quickly shook his head as if to tell you ‘not now’. So you breathed a deep breathe and smiled so brightly at him. He was here. He was in front of you, or more accurately to the side of the stage. God knows what stunt he pulled to get to be there, but you didn’t care. You swore you’d never loved someone more than in this moment. He ran off quickly, taking your paper with you and sticking his thumbs up at you as he fled.

You got to admire him for a brief moment. He was in a black non-fitted suit, with a white wife-beater shirt on underneath and then his old-school vans. He was in his travelling outfit. He loved being comfortable, but keeping a decent sense of fashion, when he was travelling cross countries. Your favourite pair of shoes were vans too so he often said that he wore them because they reminded him of you.

“Are we ready now, Miss L/N?” A judge asked, bringing your attention back to the audience when Harry nodded your head determinedly at you. You faced the audience, rolling back your shoulders and clenching then unclenching your fists. You felt lighter. Freer. You could, well… you could do this.

“Yes, I am.” You spoke much more confidently than before. You had to squint a little, but you could tell that the judges were smiling at you. Your heart felt a little more full at that. There was a sense of pride for you, even before you began.

“Okay, when you’re ready. Introduce yourself and your poem, but please wait before reciting the actual piece.” A woman judge explained. You could tell the audience has settled into their seats more, watching you with beady eyes.

Be brave.

“Thank you.” You nodded to the judges, before beginning. “Good evening all! My name is Y/N L/N and the piece of writing I have chosen to share with you tonight is called ‘Anxiety’. I wanted to choose this piece because it means something of significance to me. I have suffered with anxiety for some time and yet it feels new and stronger every time that I experience it. It’s that shadow that follows your everywhere, even when there’s light. The topic that our short written poetry had to be based on, for those of you whom had forgotten or had just woken up from a nap through the other acts,” that earned you a laugh you weren’t expecting and it made you a little less nervous, so you started to be more expressive in yourself, “was called ‘you’. For such a short word, there’s so much to unpack, especially about myself. So I decided to unpack how I feel about my anxiety, because although it may look a very small part of me from the outside it’s such a huge part of me on the inside and I would like to share that with you tonight. I would like for you to see my shadows.”

The audience clapped, even though they weren’t really supposed to. You briefly looked to the side and saw that Harry was shaking his head in awe of you. Probably because you hadn’t told him that you had changed what poem you were going to perform. The ones you’d worked on with him had been about courage and strength, but you didn’t seem to click with it even after weeks of practice. This, however, you’d written from heart, last night only, whilst having an panic attack when reality hit you that Harry wouldn’t be with you.

“Thank you Miss L/N. Give us a moment please.” They went quiet and you stopped to breathe for a moment, taking in the air of the theatre. It smelt like old wooden staircases and freshly painted walls. It felt snug and comforting. “And when you’re ready, the stage is all yours.”

Be brave.

You gave one glance at Harry and a simple smile was all you needed.

“The world is ending, I can feel it. The crushing weight of the world is burying me deeper, caging me until I can no longer breathe. The walls are closing in, faster and faster. With everyday i’m away from you, they close faster. I’m suffocating, but you still hear me breathing. I’m terrified, but you calm me. I’m alone, but you still hold my hand. Trapped, oh what an isolated feeling but you, i’ll always have you and suddenly the world keeps on spinning.”

It took a moment, but when the roars of the audience applauded you couldn’t help but freeze. You cried. Your heart sung happy songs. You nodded your head too thank them all silently, because you couldn’t quite get the words out anymore. You’d shown your shadows and people stood to remind you that you weren’t alone in having them.

You turned to see Harry and he was clapping just like everyone else, whistling through the use of his fingers - which, you’d be lying if it didn’t turn you on slightly. He mouthed ‘I love you’ and you nodded your head whilst the tears dripped from your eyes, letting him know that you knew and you very much felt the same way.

The other poets came and joined you on stage, seeing as you were the last act. There were only 3 of you and you’d watched the other two perform. They had been wonderful. One of them had performed a piece about love and the other about their children; both so sweet and loving, so passionate and comforting. So different to yours. Yours had been heavy and moving, exposing and sad, but it was you and that’s what you’d been asked to be.

“What a brilliant show, aye?” The presented walked on stage and let the audience clap together momentarily.

You stood the far right of the stage, further away from Harry who was in the left-wing. The other two poets, Henry and Silvia, were standing in line with you - Henry in the middle. He had spoken about his children and Silvia about love. They both congratulated you as they walked onstage and you smiled and thanked both of them. You couldn’t stop thinking about how desperate you were to see Harry again though. That one simple touch had left you burning for more ever since and you’d be dammed if you didn’t have him near you again within the next 10 minutes.

“Let’s hear from what the judges thought. Tracey?”

“Absolutely beautiful, all of you. Your introductions were great and your poems even better. I think for me, Henry, your poem stood our the most to me just because I have children also so I can relate to a lot of the moments and feelings you touched upon. Very well done.” Tracey spoke and you smiled because she was right, Henry’s piece had been so moving and simple. It was spectacular and you’re sure his kids would be proud of him.

“Yvonne?” The presenter turned to the next judge.

“Well the competition has seriously shown us some talent like no other this year. I don’t think we’ve ever had this higher standard before, so pat on the back to all of you. Um, Henry, wonderful poem and really heart-warming. Silvia, your poem was awe-inspiring and i’m so glad you had the chance to share that with us. And Y/N, thank you for what you did tonight.” You smiled and nodded a thanks back to Yvonne, her words meaning a lot more than a few adjectives of praise.

“Finally, Simon?”

“Couldn’t agree with the other two more. I think that you’re all credits to yourselves and you should be proud of yourselves. One person touched my heart a little more than the others this evening and I silently thank them for that. Some seriously stunning performances and yeah, i’m excited to see what the future holds for them.” Simon answered, looking at Silvia as he spoke, so it was clear that it was her work that had touched his heart.

It made you grow very nervous, however.

Each other the judges had said their praise, but had praised the other two poets slightly more so than you. It gave you a unnerving pit-belly feeling that you hadn’t done enough - that maybe you should’ve stuck to your other poem with Harry. Why had you changed it last minute? You gulped back the lump in your throat and looked down at your feet, not feeling brave enough to look up at the audience or judges anymore. You’d done your part and it didn’t feel like it was enough. You just hoped that you hadn’t let Harry down too badly.

“And now I think we should announce our winner.” The presenter announced, making the audience ooh and aah. You started to fiddle with your fingers, picking the skin around your nails to keep you grounded. You closed your eyes and kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your disappointment when your name comes last in the ranks when you should really be happy for the other two. You’d put your heart on the line tonight, but maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe you had to be something more - something special.

Someone walked on with the award trophies and envelopes. The third place holder got a gift voucher to Waterstones of £50 and a small bronze trophy. The second place holder got a gift voucher to Waterstones of £100, a stationary items to help continue to write and a silver trophy. The third place holder got a gold trophy, obviously, but the other prize was far more worthy; a definite publication of your own poetry book via Simon Armitage’s publication company - something you’d dreamt of forever.

“In third place…” You closed your eyes a little tighter and whispered internally to yourself ‘be brave’ until you would actually believe yourself. You couldn’t get that far though because, “Silvia Fallon.”

What? You hadn’t come last? What? Your eyes opened and you turned to watch Silvia accept her award and applaud her with the congratulations she deserved. Wow, you couldn’t believe that you weren’t holding a bronze trophy and a waterstones gift card right now. Silver it was then!

“In second place…” You rubbed your hands on your dress, de-clamming them before you’d have to walk over to the presenter to shake his hand and double kiss his cheeks. As you smiled out the audience, “Henry Lucas.”

What.

Your heart had stopped beating. You weren’t walking over to collect silver. No. You were cupping your hand over your mouth, shaking like a leaf in the wind and knees about to crumble beneath you as you realised what this all meant. What you’d achieved.

“So that means our winner of Prized Poetry 2021 is Y/N L/N!” You sank down to the floor, crouching over yourself as you started to cry and cry.

Was this really happening?

Warm hands brought you out of your shell, cupping the side of your head to bring your attention to them. To him.

“You won, baby. You fucking won!” He smiled so brightly at you that you could’ve sworn he was just a visual dream. You were shaking in his hold and still crying, his eyes red too over your deserved success.

“I-I won…” You spoke in shakily disbelief.

“I’m not kissing you until you go collect your prize, petal, so please go and chuffing collect your prize!” He laughed, and helped you onto your feet. You were a little shaky, because all eyes were on you once again, but you deserved this. You hadn’t expected this at all so you were also just a bit taken aback by this whole experience. The journey had been far greater than anything before it.

Harry’s hand left yours and you walked across the stage to shake hands with the presenter and the judges, who had now come up on stage to congratulate you all. You thanked each one of them, twice, and held up your trophy in the air as you walked back across stage.

As soon as you met Harry he didn’t hesitate to bring you in for that promised kiss. You didn’t care about the call last night anymore. You didn’t care about him not being here today. He was here now and that was more than enough to seal your heart with forgiveness. It was moments like this, his lips enveloping yours, when you were brought to the realisation of how yellow your world was. There was no grey with him. He, just like you were to him, was your yellow and that was a privilege to be. Your Harry made you feel so much more than a shadow. He made you feel brave. Protected. Calm.

Loved.

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saturnsstufff · 3 years

Text

The Empress (pt. III)

Hello lovelys! Incase no one told you today, I think your spectacular!

Also, lets be real. This part really shows how much I love Buff Techno

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, blood

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The Emperor was asking you to sit and eat with him. With his family. You didn't want to come off rude or impolite, so you simply nodded and walked over to the remaining open seat. Phil pulled the chair out for you a bit, you lowered yourself onto it and pushed yourself in.

To say the room was beautiful was a understatement. The table was made of elegant dark oak, the edges lined with detailed gold. The chairs matched the table with wood. But the seats had a plush Black velvet cover over the cushions. The backs of the chairs stood taller than you, Techno's chair was the most detailed and the tallest out of them all. When you glanced up at Techno you were only met with the skull staring forward.

You honestly became nervous now. Your hands grew clammy as you held a bit of your cloak. Yesterday you had no problem being in front of this family and now you were terrified of offending them. The Family was known for being nothing short of dangerous, and blood thirsty. Yet when you look to Philza, or Wilbur who sat in front of you. You couldn't see how, they were perceived as dangerous. Don't get yourself wrong, you saw how Techno could be seen as terrifying, the man stood at well over 6ft, maybe approaching 7ft?

Wil watched you a bit, taking note of the complex look you had. "So where are you from?" He asked simply, taking a drink of his milk. "Dadza said you were wearing really light clothes when he met you." The boys tone was casual. Trying to set your wild nerves at ease.

"O-oh, I'm from a little village in Madagascar" techno's mask faced you as you spoke. Showing you had his full attention. "It's pretty... small..." You tried of how to explain it but, every way you turned it in your head, it was still bland.

"What's your village like? For the small size is it well off or strugglin'?" Phil inquired. At this a few butlers came out with platters of food. They placed a plate full of eggs, toast, sausage and oatmeal in front of Techno, Phil and you. Talk about a meal fit for a king- no pun intended. Techno only nudged his mask up a tad more. His mouth now visible more. Your eyes lingered on him. A slight scar could be seen on his lip, it looked a bit fresh if your being honest. You averted your gaze before he noticed your lingering eyes.

"It's... struggling. We were slightly larger, but years ago there was a raid by some Pilliagers" you couldn't help your face twist into a bit of disgust. After how they humiliated your village, and father, you couldn't help hold a high distaste for them. "They ransacked what we had. The men of our village defended what they could, but too many lives were taken if you ask me." You took your fork into your hand, starting to cut up the egg.

"Did you loose anyone close to you?" Phil spoke between bites. Only speaking when his mouth was empty. You hummed and nodded as you chewed your food. Waiting to respond out of courtesy.

"I lost my uncle, but that luckily was all. My father was injured too, but he survived.” your eyes scanned your food, slightly pushing the food apart so it wasn't touching. “I was too young to understand when it happened, but I guess one pillager took a swing at his leg. It never healed properly since during the attack, the Pilliagers targeted the women and children mostly. Who for the most part were in charge of medicine and occasional potion brewing" You could feel Techno's lingering eyes on you. He ate in silence only listening.

"I'm sorry to hear of your uncles demise. however, we are glad that you are ok." Phil said, resting a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. You smiled gently and nodded. the action was similar to that of what your father did. Even if Phil didn't recognize it, the little actions he did put you at ease.

Everyone ate for a bit longer. the sounds of silverware and plates clinking were the only sound that filled the room. Techno finished his plate first. Neatly setting his dishes together. Phil and I worked at our plates still. Mostly because we were the ones talking. "What made you get into Smithing?" Phil asked. Having previously recalled you mentioning the blade was your creation.

You took a sip of Orange juice to clear your throat of food. "When my father was injured our family suffered. Smithing was how we made money. My father couldn't stand long- he still cant. even if he could, I'm pretty sure the hammer would be too heavy for him." You paused thinking a moment. " I think I was eleven or twelve when he started showing me the tools and the trade. After a few months I could put a tool out. By no means was it good though.” You could still remember the first tool you put out. It was a twisted, warped mess. At the time you were proud, but now you rather not admit it was yours. “By the end of the year I at least could put something worth a show out. Ever since then I just continued. I didn't know how to sew or weave like my mother so I never strayed from the forge."

"It was somthin' in your blood" Phil commented. You tilted your head slightly as you ate a bit more. Starting to feel utterly stuffed. "A lot of trade's or artistry’s get passed down so long that it just becomes part of their heritage, they seem to have a natural born talent for those knacks." He fallowed up with. "Techno is like that with sword combat" you herd a sound of disagreement from under the boar mask.

Wil decided to chime in now. "If your blade pasts the test, what will you do with the money?" You thought a moment. In your heart you knew you had no use for it really. Your father and village however did need it.

"I'll probably give it to my village and my father." It was a simple and cliché answer but you meant it. "I have a roof over my head at home, parents who love me, support me. For once I wanna support them." You set your spoon down. Only having ate half your oatmeal, feeling too full to finish. "My village also needs the help. The baker. The farmer. They all could use a bit of spare change." You looked up from your plate to face Phil. His eyes were kind. They glittered like your fathers, when he was proud.

"Your very kind to offer your riches to others." you didn't expect Techno to voice his opinion. But you graciously took his complement. Your cheeks a faint pink. As you nodded. He moved his mask back to where it fit comfortably. He stood up from the table. the action commanding attention, The mask faced you. "Fetch your blade. I wish to test it."

Ok now the nerves really set in. You stood outside on a snow covered training ground. Your head was covered by a cozy fur lined cloak. Beside you stood Wilbur, and Philza. You had the cloth wrapped sheath in your hands firmly. The sword secure in it's place. Waiting for someone to release it and show the strength it held.

You were unsure where techno was, he was supposed to give the test but as it stood, he was nowhere to be seen. That is until he turned the corner with a thick wooden log over his shoulder. You couldn't help how your jaw dropped. You knew he had to have some strength but you didn't expect him to turn the corner with a good size Hickory log. He dropped the log in front of Phil, Wil and I. Next to it was a rather large block of ice, and a Anvil. Once Techno situated the log securely in the snow he unchained his cloak. Handing it off to Phil.

There he stood. This monster of a man. broad shoulders drawn back, his posture perfect. Where he looked as strong as twelve oxen, he also had a elegant, ethereal beauty. His jaw was sharp, lips drawn into a thin line. His hands, although gloved, moved with precise elegance. When he breathed a puff of cloud would push itself out of the Boar's empty nasal cavity. He looked terrifyingly beautiful.

He turned to you and outstretched his hand. A wordless request for your blade. You bit your lip. The moment had come for you to truly test it. Carefully you unwrapped the cloth, the simple sheath was the underwhelming part of the blade. however when you moved the Sheath towards Techno he made no comment on the simplicity.

His hand easily took the handle. Skillfully he pulled the blade out. The black blade shimmered brilliantly. The purple-blue pearlescent really popped against the snow. When he saw the color of the blade you could have sworn you saw his hand falter slightly. “tis’ a beautiful blade...” was the first comment. “what is made of?” he inquired.

You swallowed the slight lump in your throat. “It’s Netherite and Diamond” You didn't expect them to know what Netherite was, but the look Phil gave you shown that he very well knew what it was. Even Techno turned his head to face you. This is the part where you wondered if you shouldn't have said the true material.

“Netherite eh?...” the angle was just right, you could see into the empty eye sockets and pinpoint techno’s eyes. they lingered over your blade fondly. he seemed very familiar with that type of material.

You watched as he took notice of how the blade was well balanced. The handle was comfortable and surprisingly it fit his hands. He tossed the blade between his right and left hand. Seeing how it felt. Mentally he assumed the blade's handle would have been made small to accommodate your own hand. But he was pleasantly surprised to see you took account that maybe you would not be the one handling it. He moved the blade back to his dominant hand. Looking to the mound of ice. You felt a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you away from Techno. You looked up to see who the hand belonged to, only realizing it was Phil. well you stood in front of Phil pressed up to him, you didn't have to look to know how much he towered over you. His wings only adding to the height. you thought it was a tad weird that he pulled you so close, until you realized he did it to Wil was well. The action was out of protection. your gaze shifted back to Techno. He rotated the sword in his hand once. From Phil, Wil, and your stance, all you saw was a quick movement of purple, the light bouncing of the blade beautifully as it swung. He did not delay on his swing back, it was fast and powerful. Techno simply stepped, and swung back down, hard. The idea of being on the other side of the blade seemed impossible to survive. Well he beat the sword edge against the ice, his body moved as if he was reciting a simple dance. He was testing the durability. Seeing exactly how much your blade could take. The sheer force of his hits only needed two, to break the ice chunk in half. Sliding both halves away from each other upon the swords impact. You could only watch in shock. His strength was raw and powerful. You were genuinely terrified for your little sword.

Techno didn't let up his assault. Moving from the ice to the wood in one swift movement. Continuing to strike the hard wood. The woodchips flew in the air, you averted your eyes a bit, worried the wood might hit you. After beating a decent size gash into the wood, you spared a glance back up. He shoved the sword into the snow bank next to him. Lifting the abused log up. Placing his hands on both sides of the gash, he with little struggle, tore the log in half with his hands.

To say that it wasn't a little bit attractive, would have been a lie. Your cheeks were pink again. but luckily you could blame it on the cold nipping at your face. You watched as techno looked at the log, now in two parts at his feet. He made no sound of disproval, or really said anything. He simply took the sword from the bank and looked over at the Anvil. ‘surely he wouldn't hit the blade on the metal’ you thought. Oh, don't worry he would. He looked down to the blade, judging it breifly before glancing the anvil. You looked away, you couldn't watch. the blade was going to break as soon as it hit the anvil. It was evident on why no one was able to past the test. The test was a fucking nightmare.

The only sound you could hear was a harsh ring. He did it, oh shit he really did it. Phil from above you just whistled. “tha’s a mighty blade (y/n).” you spared a glance. in Techno’s hand was your sword. structurally intact. you let out a rather large, breathy laugh of relief.

Techno didn't congratulate you, or make a remark on your blade. instead he removed a glove and pressed his thumb to the blade. He wanted to see if it was still sharp after the pure beating it just took. You watched, now unsure if this was all positive or negative. He hummed, he wanted to say he was surprised. but he wasn't. what you didn't understand, was that he was used to Netherite. He knew it took something almost godlike to break anything with that material.

Although the sword was beat to hell, when he pressed his thumb against the blade and applied pressure, it was still sharp enough to draw blood. He put his thumb to his lips. The hard metallic taste of blood filled his mouth from the cut he received. his lips only twisting into a bemused smirk.

"Your blade passes" he turned to face you. Wiping his bloody thumb on his black pants before offering his hand to you in a handshake. "You are the only one that somehow designed, dare I say it. The perfect blade."

After the event that occurred out on the field you were a giddy mess. You did it. You fallowed techno down the hall. He explained that since you did impress him, he was now wanting to open the table for a discussion and a possible contract. But first, he wanted to know how much knowledge you possess.

He opened a large door that was detailed in gold. when you stepped in he fallowed. walking past you in a easy, lazy stride. You were in his office. the shelves were lined with books, many having titles about Mythology, histories of wars, war tactics, potion brewing, etc. The titles were endless. From the books alone you could assume he probably had knowledge on a plethora of subjects. The walls were high, the detailing never faltered however. Two Antarctica Empire flag's hung on the walls, framing the main desk. There were paintings, but unlike the one of the whole family you saw on your arrival. There was one of Phil and Techno, the mask painted on his face. The second painting was Tech and Wil. But similarly. The mask was present. Looking about a little more, there were also swords of all types on the walls. In the center of the celling there was a massive candle lit chandelier. A fireplace stood tall behind techno's desk. You only assumed the desk was placed there solely for the point of warmth.

Technoblade took his seat at the rather large desk. His posture, was still perfect even when sitting. His hands were folded together. The rings still adorning his fingers. Everything he did, and wore just screamed elegance. "I will give you 3k for the blade. An additional 2k will be added for your trip" he said, his voice still straight.

'Holy shit, 5k? That's far more than I thought' you were speechless. You could already imagine how the money would help. ‘Father could get the help he needed.’ ‘The farmer could build a new barn possibly’ The upgrades flowed through your mind. Hope and joy surged through your veins. "Thank you your Imperial Majesty..."

"You said you used Netherite, correct?" You nodded to him. The mask was facing you, he was quiet. But you assumed he was thinking. "Were did you find the Neitherite?" He leaned onto his desk, moving his folded hands to the desk top. Resting his head on his hands.

"A man in my village had it. It was pretty cheap to buy it off him" you thought back to the man. Trying to recall the conversation. "He uh.." you paused trying to remember it properly. "Oh- he said it was a great material when used properly. But he couldn't understand what he needed to achieve it." Techno stayed quiet a moment.

"So how did you come by the proper techniques?" He questioned. You thought back again. It was a off day when you discovered it really. You weren't trying to use it. It just fell into your pan.

"Well, I was trying to make a diamond sword for a sister village originally. But when my pan was over the fire heating, I had left the room. Not realizing the small chunk of Netherite I had on top of the mantle had somehow fallen in. When I came back I saw the discoloration of the metal, that wasn't normal so I pulled it from the fire. When it cooled I noticed it made a unusual harder substance, so from there I just started experimenting with it" he nodded and pondered what you said. He didn't linger on the subject for long however, Instead he changed it.

"I have a proposition for you. That is... if your interested of course" You looked to him. Showing he had your attention. He had mentioned something along the lines of a deal well you walked down the hall with him. "With your permission, I would like to hire you as the royal blacksmith." The skull never faced away from you. You swallowed thickly.

"You mean... I would work here?" Your brows furrowed. "I don't live anywhere close to here..." he nodded his head, shrugging a bit.

"I'm aware" he paused. "We would give you a room, Pay you weekly, you would have benefits. Access to the best quality material" he didn't rush all the information out. He simply just read the list from his mind. "The only thing in exchange, is for you to make my armor, weapons, and anyone else I deem fit for them." It was a basic comply. He wanted you to work for him. Have your craft explicitly his only.

You shifted your weight as you stood. "Do I have to make a choice now?" You were hoping you didn't have to hurry this. you were already hesitant on bringing the sword down here, but now the idea of staying in this frozen tundra had you uncertain. Yes you would live in wealth, and possible glory. But, at the cost of being over a thousand miles away from your family. You also were still uncertain of the land itself.

Techno shrugged a bit. "I mean, I'm in no particular hurry" he explained. Tilting his head to the side a tad. If you accept, you knew what it meant. Your devotion to a nation, to the royal family, to the Emperor. You really would be making a shot in the dark.

"If I work here. Could I send the money elsewhere?" He watched you. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could feel them eating away at you.

"We can arrange that." You watched him in turn. Trying to see if he had a underlying plan, or possible catch to add. "I mean, I am a lenient man" his hands unclasped. Opening his arms slightly to motion to himself.

"R-right... of course" you nodded. Agreeing with him, not wishing to anger him. He pondered a moment before he stood from his chair. The chains, and pendants around his neck jingling slightly from his movement.

"I look forward to hearing your answer"

About a week had gone by before you had your answer. During the said week you started to notice the family had a slight routine. Phil would come for you in the morning to walk you to the dining hall for breakfast. after that Wilbur would either roam to the music room, or to the library to do some of his studies. Techno was harder to pinpoint, sometimes he would leave to his office, be in the library, or other times he would walk towards the room with the planes. No matter what, Phil kept you in good company and made you fell welcomed.

You choose to tell techno of your answer over dinner. Assuming it would be a decent time since that was when everyone was together. The dinner was casual. Since your stay was expanded, the boys would roam the hall’s in there casual wear instead of there more formal, business attire.

“So I've thought on it..” Your voice broke through the peaceful silence. Techno and Phil lifted there heads to address you. Wil looked up at you as well, the noodles from the dinner slipping from his lips back into the soup bowl. “I’ll work for you... if you would still have me.”.

“of course we’ll have ya’” Phil said, his smile wide. “It’s been nice havin’ someone new and different around these halls” you smiled a little and nodded to him, looking over to Techno.

“I do have two questions though...” techno gave a slight nod to you, motioning for you to continue. "If I choose to quit at any point. Could I?" Techno, hummed and nodded.

"Of course, that would only be right." a bit of weight was lifted from your shoulders knowing this wasn't a endless contract type of deal.

”My other question is a bit personal, but could I go back to my village to explain my new job to my parents? I don't feel right sending it through a letter.” You chewed your lip, hoping you weren't over stepping your bounds of what you could request.

Phil answered for Techno. “I don't see why not, me and Tech were discussing going on a trip anyway.” your eyes lit up, you would see your parents again. “You could tag along with us. of course we’ll be making trips other than Madagascar. techno was talking about visiting Russia, and France” you tilted your head a bit.

“why Russia? you already live on a ice cube” you said, humoring Phil, earning a chuckle.

“They have a few things Techno and I have been looking for” he said, continuing back on his dinner. You thought on it a moment and shrugged. nodding your head, you turned your attention back to your food.

“when would you like to leave?” you asked, curious of when you should pack your bag again. Techno hummed a bit.

“We were thinking of leaving in two days time.” He set his fork down before looking up at you. “I wouldn't worry about packing, we will not be traveling in our typical attire. We plan to dress down” Techno said as he wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I'll have some simpler clothes sent to your room”

You were a little surprised. They planned to travel, but not in there imperial attire? That's what you assumed he meant at least. Either way you were excited. Not only would you be seeing your parents, but you also would be taken to Russia and France. Man if this was your new job, you could get used to this.

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #TE

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Old Age

Word Count: 1772

Characters: Canada, England, and France

---

There were some days where Canada truly felt his age.

Most of the time how old he was didn’t really hit him. He happily pottered around work or home as easily as he imagined most humans his physical age did: running for a train he was almost certainly going to miss, tripping down the last few steps on a flight of stairs because he was staring at his phone and wasn’t watching his feet, or spilling coffee on himself when he missed his mouth taking a sip.

His colleagues, despite knowing who he was, spoke to him as an equal and Canada could happily pass weeks, or sometimes even months, without consciously being aware of how old he was- or even really what he was.

It was easy to forget, surrounded by humans every day, that he was not one. His ministers and co-workers spoke to him without questioning his position that high in government- that was admittedly unusual for a face as young as his. Occasionally, he’d bump into a young intern or graduate who didn’t know him and he’d have a nice, genuine interaction before a look of shock crossed their face when someone high up greeted him respectfully. It was a helpful, yet stark, reminder.

But overall, when you were surrounded by people who did know it never really hit him that his presence or job was something he took for granted and the passing of time was something he didn’t really take notice of. It was normal. He was there, he was called Matthew, sometimes, or Canada, but both were his name and the potency of what he was, was surprisingly quite forgettable.

Of course, what he was was never something he could completely avoid. Someone would mention a time, or a date, or a thing that had happened and Canada would immediately feel the distance widen between them all as it was made obvious that, to everyone else, what they were discussing was history. It was something passed, something that had happened to other people too long ago to properly connect with on an emotional level. An old battle, an old political bill; something that someone long long dead had said or written that now remained only as faint ink on curling, dusty paper.

But to Canada it was there in his head, the words clear and as easy to recall as if they were spoken to him yesterday. A benefit of nationhood, he supposed, to be fully aware of things that had political consequence, to be able to trace the makings of himself back through time and see how they spiralled and grew.

History wasn’t just words, to him, or mere events. Such things made up the foundations of himself, the building blocks of his life and he felt them thrum through him like a song, twisting and moulding him into being.

Becoming aware of his age and the difference between himself and humans were when Canada really felt the weight of the years he carried. Over three hundred of them made themselves known, hanging off his shoulders and settling down to his legs to hold him up. It was easy to briefly forget how old he was, but that knowledge was impossible to rid himself of entirely- Canada was made up of history, of the bones of time and they cracked together as he moved through his life to remind him of who he was with every step.

He had burned, he had bled, he had died. He had seen.

That was the point of him. To watch to passage of time and remember it, to hold the memory of his people within him and use their voices and experiences to push for the continuation of the future. Their future.

Canada was his people, was made by his people for his people and as he sat amongst them, discussing old old moments long gone with humans who could only read and dream of them, the distinction of what he was would hit him like a thunderbolt.

It was heavy, to be so old. To have seen so many things, to have lived through so much. To be what he was.

He had just had one of those instances. He and his cabinet had spent the entire morning discussing the founding of their nation and its independence in order to plan for the yearly celebrations and Canada had suffered through the whole time feeling every second of his age press against him.

When talks finally drew to a close and he could escape, Canada dragged his ancient body towards the centre of town. England and France were visiting, along with the rest of the UN, and he’d promised to meet them both for lunch before they too were pulled into an afternoon of far more internationally inclined meetings.

If he were honest with himself, what Canada really wanted to do was go home and watch TV; switch his brain off so that he could numb himself with bad reality shows. It was a good pastime that he enjoyed with guilty abandon and one that he would much rather have preferred doing. However, he’d made a promise and Canada was nothing if not a nation of his word.

Sadly.

England and France were already there when he arrived, tucked away in a corner table. France glanced up as the door jingled with his entrance, waving him over with a smile. Canada nodded at the waiter who motioned him through and settled himself down in a chair at their table between them.

‘Good afternoon,’ France greeted him with his usual cheek kisses, hair tickling Canada’s nose as he leant in close, ‘you arrived just on time, I was about to throw Arthur out of the window.’

‘You wish,’ England looked up from his phone and shot him a quick, but warm smile, ‘Hello Matthew.’

Canada’s heart sank. He really wasn’t in the mood to play mediator today, ‘Dare I ask why?’ he said, turning to France.

France gave an effortless shrug and settled back in his seat, ‘Do I really need a reason?’

‘Yes.’

Both England and Canada spoke at once and France gave a sly grin, ‘I won’t darling, you don’t deserve the trouble,’ he patted Canada’s knee soothingly and politely ignored England’s muttered “as if you could” from across the table, ‘but the idiot seems to think he’s correct about something which he very much is not.’

‘Oh, of course,’ England retorted immediately, ‘you can’t remember properly but I’m the one who’s wrong.’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘What is it?’ Canada interjected quickly. The waiter who had greeted him at the door was shooting their table looks of alarm out of the corner of his eye and Canada smiled at him apologetically, ‘Maybe I could help.’

To his surprise, England and France shared a look, something unspoken passing between them, ‘You weren’t about yet,’ offered France, sounding apologetic.

‘When was it?’

‘Oh, not too long ago,’ England waved a hand airily, ‘only six hundred years or so.’

Canada blinked, ‘Six hundred?’

‘Or there abouts,’ England frowned again, ‘I’m not sure when exactly, but I know France is wrong.’

France scoffed, ‘You can’t remember when it is, but you know I’m wrong?’

‘Obviously. I know it was about fifty years after Agincourt, I’m not sure of exactly when but-‘

‘Well, there you go! You’ve muddled it up with something else.’

‘I haven’t! You held that ball, the one with the fucking shit tonne of flowers everywhere, and were displaying those golden goblet things you were so damn proud of and I gave you that stupid painting-‘

‘No!’ France interjected angrily, ‘You took that painting and then were made to give it back.’

‘I didn’t! It was my bloody painting- Jesus fucking Christ,’ England held his head in his hands, ‘that’s not the point, I’m using that as a reference-‘

‘Yes well, pick a reference that has a grain of reality in it, would you?’

England opened his mouth to argue back again but Canada didn’t hear him, by now long tuned out of the conversation.

Only. Only six hundred years ago. Canada couldn’t even imagine that amount of time, couldn’t imagine having lived so long that six hundred years was considered to be a mere drop in the ocean.

But to these two, it was. England and France had both been alive for millennia, had known each other for that long and had been alive without each other for even longer before that.

Sitting next to them, his own existence suddenly felt like nothing, felt insignificant in the history of mankind. What had Canada seen, that these two had not? He couldn’t even begin to imagine. Three hundred years felt more than enough.

It hit him, then, how long most of their kind had lived. He’d realised this before, of course, but still the comprehension about the difference in age between him and most of the world left him dumbstruck anew. Fuck, what about China; Lord only knew how old he really was. There wasn’t a point in history that it didn’t seem as though China hadn’t been around to experience, even from across the world. Whole empires and civilisations had risen and fallen and most of the nations Canada knew had personally been involved in them somehow. It was astounding to consider all the people who had lived throughout the centuries that, to Canada, felt like nothing more than characters in a story.

What on earth was three hundred years to age like that? To history that felt so ancient to him, so disconnected that it didn’t really even feel real, but that was as normal to most nations as his own history was.

How many years would Canada have to live until three hundred was something he would describe as ‘only’?

‘Are you alright, lad?’ Canada was jolted out of his spiral to find England looking at him with concern, a hand on his arm.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ he shook his head, ‘it’s just- you’re both so old.’

England coloured and France laughed, ‘We’re not old,’ England jabbed a thumb in France’s direction, ‘Well, he is.’

‘It is more about how you feel and act, dear, that’s more important and in that regard, you are far older than I.’ France yelped suddenly as England kicked him under the table, ‘Does the truth sting, Arthur? Is that why you felt the need to vent your frustrations on me?’

‘As if I need more of a reason-‘

They began again, in earnest, but Canada let them continue uninterrupted, silently and guiltily enjoying the feeling of being a child once more.

---

AN:

I must admit that not much thought or plot went into this. I wanted to write something short and somewhat silly as a treat for spending most of yesterday editing. Ideally, one day I want to take this concept and explore it more with greater care and detail because I think it’s something a newer nation like Canada would really struggle with.

300 years is a long time, and I’m sure it must be hard for him to feel that age and then go and speak to anyone from the Old World and be met with the reality of how truly old their kind can be. Canada is a baby, despite the centuries he has collected for himself, and I feel like there would always be that conflict within him about how old he feels around humans comapred to how old he is next to other nations. Maybe this idea is best explored as a headcannon rather than a fic, but I had a fun time writing it.

Anyway, that is my tuppence worth- thank you for reading!

#aph canada #hws canada #aph england #hws england #aph france #hws france #hetalia fanfic #hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia fanfiction #matthew williams #francis bonnefoy #arthur kirkland #my writing #i will put fruk into literally anything i swear #i cannot be stopped

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Take That!

Corpse Husband & Reader (Female) ft. Streamer Gang

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Suppressed Sadness, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What is a friend? Your smile through the tears. The umbrella over your head when it starts raining. The ointment to your wound. But if you wanna put it in a more literal manner, a friend is something that doesn’t have a concrete definition. It can be the person you sit next to in class or the person who’s hundreds of miles away from you and you’re connected to through a Discord call.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your request, sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read if you happen to come across the fic. Love, Vy ❤

There are those days when I wake up excited for a new day. There are also those days when the thought of playing Among Us with my friends is all that gets me out of bed. And then there are those days when not even that can get me to budge. Today is one of those days.

I’d still be in bed right now had I not needed to use the bathroom. On my way back to hide under my covers, I heard my cat’s meow from the kitchen, reminding me she needed to be fed. After tending to that task I just sort of lost will to return to bed either. Speaking truthfully, today is a will-less day. The type of day where I have no idea what to do with myself because I feel so odd and uncomfortable: heavy and bustling head, motivation below zero no matter whether I have zero tasks to tend to or a mountain high pile of work. It’s a laying on the floor and letting my mind eat away at me type of day and I can’t say I appreciate it.

The only thing I have to look forward to is the game of Among Us Corpse invited me to yesterday. Had I known I’d wake up feeling like absolute shit, I wouldn’t have accepted. I just know I’ll be a downer the whole time because I suck at covering up how I feel - my smiling masks and faux happiness don’t cut it but staying quiet is even worse because I’m typically and energetic and bubbly person, always having something to say or a comment to add to the conversation. Always looking to make people laugh.

Well, it’s hard to make people laugh when you feel like a deflated balloon.

I can’t describe the feeling any better than that - I feel empty, maybe a little sad somewhere in the mix, unmotivated. I keep these feelings to myself cause whenever I bring them up people just blow me off, saying I’m describing laziness but more dramatically. Either that or burnout which is sometimes the case, but I’m more than sure that it’s not the culprit for today. You can only blame burnout so many times.

Anyway, I make a mental note, promising myself I’m not gonna bail on my friends regardless of whether my mood gets better or worse. Who knows, maybe a gaming session with them is exactly what I need.

* * *

Not much has changed with my emotional state - I’ve spent a good chunk of the day surfing through TV channels and my socials with nothing else to occupy my mind but the overwhelming knowledge that I’m not feeling ok and that hyperawareness of a void that I feel but cannot describe. At one point, Corpse sent me a text to confirm I’d be participating in the gaming session and I was this close to saying no. This close to coming up with some bullshit excuse and bailing but I didn’t, thankfully.

Here’s the thing about this drop in mood of mine - I know it’s gonna be gone by morning. It bullies me, beats and batters me for only twenty four hours - never more, never less. Like clockwork and as precise as a Swiss watch. And so fucking annoying. No matter what I do, I can’t end it prematurely and I can never wake up feeling down and unmotivated the next morning - there’s always a surge of motivation coursing through me and it drives me to be super productive as if making up for what I didn’t do the previous day when I was in the dumps.

It’s a twisted way of it showing me I’m powerless and at the mercy of a force that, despite being mine and existing within me, I’m completely unfamiliar with. It’s so fucking unfair, it’s disheartening.

“Hi everyone! Sorry I’m late.“ I greet the five people who have already gathered in the Discord call and the Among Us lobby.

Yeah, sorry I’m late, I was contemplating not showing up at all last minute

“Don’t worry about it, many people are running late as you can see.“ Rae replies reassuringly, “How’s your day? Anything spectacular happen?“

I can’t help but scoff, “Yeah sure, a TON of spectacularism in my life on the daily. From the large stack of papers I couldn’t bring myself to touch, to the dusty surfaces all over my apartment I didn’t convince myself to clean - it’s all fabulous over here.”

Fuck, that was too real

“Whoa, where’d all this sarcasm come from?“ Rae asks, sounding genuinely baffled rather than teasing, “It’s never been your strong suit.“

“Neither has unproductivity.“ Corpse, my best friend, chimes in, “Everything ok?“

Well, I admit, I should’ve known better than to have an outburst like that in front of people who have known me for a while now and can probably gauge my emotions even without me admitting to them. I truly don’t know where it came from. Hell, I didn’t even see it coming.

“Nah, it’s ok. I’m just being lazy, I guess.” I’m quick to withdraw and brush off any suspicion. The last thing I want is to worry my friends or, even worse, receive the same response from them: that I’m being dramatic, that I’m attention-seeking, that I’m just lazy and unmotivated as are most people of my generation.

“You know, what people often self-diagnose as ‘laziness’ often turns out to be something more serious. I don’t mean to scare you, but it could be depression.“ Corpse says after a brief moment of silence in the call, his voice soft and cautious as if explaining a complex problem to a kid who’s bound to be hurt by what it’s told.

I can’t help but chuckle. He has no idea how much he’s relieved me by saying that. I always ‘don’t want to talk about it’ and ‘want to change the subject’ while what I truly need happens to be the complete opposite. I need someone to hear me out, I need someone who will not brush me and my concerns off like we don’t matter. I need someone who’ll understand. And if these people who have openly struggled with anxiety or depression don’t get me, who will?

“Yeah, I genuinely thought I thought of myself as a lowlife while I was in college cause I started losing motivation for everything and started fearing what was to come. I began avoiding going out and talking to people cause I felt like I was the sore thumb in the friend group I had - the only one without any specific goal or a dream.“ Leslie says out of the blue, “Turns out I suffered through a burnout so bad it turned into an anxiety/depression combo that I just blamed on being a lazy college student.“

“Same here!“ Toast pipes in, “I was bedridden for a while during the first days of my streaming career, for a very ridiculous reason - I believed I didn’t deserve the attention I was getting and I wasn’t doing as well as people gave me credit for. So that had me crippled with self-doubt for a long while.“

“I still don’t believe I’m doing as well as I get credit for, but oh well.“ Leslie laughs, “I already told you all about my dumpster-fire of a brain, so I’m instead gonna say: what you need is an appointment with a therapist. Also - you need to stop underestimating your struggles. Invalidating yourself and what you’re going through is gonna make things only worse for you. You need to love yourself.“

“And you need us!“ Rae exclaims, “You need the best support you can get and, lucky for you, we’re the best in the business. Count on us always being there for you, Y/N. Cause we always will be.“

“You’re never alone. We’re all just a call or a text away. Especially me.“ Corpse adds, “I’m basically at your service 24/7, just like you’ve always been for me. What are best friends for if not sharing mental struggles and lifting each other up afterwards?“

I don’t know when this smile made its home on my face but it seems to be rather happy with where it is and wants to stay. Something tells me that thanks to these guys, it will indeed stay there for quite some time. And every time it tries to slip away, they’ll be there to bring it back.

“Then let’s lift each other up, shall we? I mean, what better way to do it other than killing each other and getting away with it?“ I attempt a giggle, hiding my emotions behind it like my life depends on it. Chances are they heard all I’m feeling in my voice, but I can only hope they’re not gonna mention it.

“Y/N, hun, I’m sorry to burst your bubble but....you never get away with it.“ Corpse wheezes, causing me to narrow my eyes and frown.

“Oh, you’re so gonna get it now!“ I exclaim, cracking my knuckles before getting my hands on my keyboard, “Start the game! I have a point to prove!“

And just like that, in what felt like the blink of an eye, the clouds have shuffled aside to make path for the sunshine to grace my brain with positivity I was not expecting to feel until tomorrow morning. I can’t give myself the credit for that though - it all goes to these amazing people I have the honor of calling friends.

I may have no power over it on my own, but with the gang’s help, I can take full control of it. And as a middle finger to the melancholy, I’ll do it all with a bright smile on my face.

Take that, brain!

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi hello I would love to know more about this tidbit from your oher fic? “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.” “I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.” pretty please with puppy dog eyes?

Anything for you, Beyonce! Hope you enjoy your trip on the angst train >:)

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for couples arguments, self-isolation, mild anxiety

Day 1

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Remus shoved his toothbrush back in the holder more aggressively than he probably needed to. His hands were shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“Really? Again?”

“What?” Sirius asked again. He had the nerve to sound truly bewildered and the bed creaked as he stood up. “What did I do?”

“You left the toothpaste uncapped and it’s all over the sink,” Remus sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late to fight about this.

Sirius gave him a look. “Re, there’s literally one smudge.” He swiped it away with his thumb. “There. Better?”

“No, it’s not better. I told you I hate it when you do that.”

“Are you okay? You seem…upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped. Sirius recoiled at his tone and he bit back a second retort. “Look, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“What—sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, okay?” Remus grabbed a fresh set of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt out of the dresser. He couldn’t handle being surrounded by Sirius’ smell right now. “Just…not tonight.”

Day Two

They ate breakfast silently. Every ping of Sirius’ spoon against his cereal bowl was like nails on a chalkboard as he choked down a slice of toast and all but chugged his coffee. “So…” Sirius started, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Not really,” Remus muttered. “I’m going to run to Target and get some groceries.”

“In your pajamas?”

Remus went upstairs without a word. He slept on the living room couch again that night and tried desperately not to miss Sirius’ solid warmth next to him. This is good for you both, he repeated again and again and again. Space is good. Space is healthy.

Day Three

Sirius didn’t bring it up again, but he stole quick, worried glances that Remus caught in his periphery whenever they were in the same room together. There was a gentle knock on the living room doorframe and he poked his head in, offering Remus a grilled cheese sandwich that basically broke his heart. “I’m really sorry about the toothpaste,” he said softly when Remus didn’t respond. “Um, I made dinner, but you seemed busy. So. Here.”

“Thanks,” Remus managed. As soon as he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, silent tears began streaking down his face. The sandwich tasted like sawdust. “You need to breathe,” he reminded himself. “If you move too fast it’s going to fall apart. If you can’t exist apart then you won’t be healthy together.”

And yet somehow he was unhappier than he had been in more than three months, even when they were still living in the same house.

Day Four

Remus ran errands. Hung out with Lily in the park. Made lunch and left a brief note next to the crock pot for Sirius to find when he was done working out. Love you, it read. Simple. Normal. Healthy.

His back was beginning to cramp from the too-small couch. His feet were cold every night. Lily’s silent concern played over and over again in his head as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Day Five

It was getting easier to create distance with Sirius despite the fact that they shared most spaces. He offered quick smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, chaste kisses whenever he left the house, and even scooted over to make room for him on the couch when the Avatar reruns started on Nickelodeon.

“Remus, are you mad at me?” Sirius asked after a period of suffocating silence. Hearing him say his name was strange—his accent curled around it in an unfamiliar way, like he was making a conscious effort not to slip up. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. It was agonizing to be so close to him and yet so far away. They always cuddled on the couch.

“No,” Remus said in a small voice. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Is this…are you breaking up with me?” From the soft huff of air that came after it, Remus knew he had been sitting on this for a long time.

“What? No!” He turned, making eye contact for the first time in days. It was brutal and made him feel raw. “No, I love you.”

Sirius’ shoulders folded in slightly and he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“I—I don’t know,” Remus forced himself to say. I love you! He wanted to scream. I love you so much it’s scaring me. I miss everything about you, even the toothpaste smudges on the sink and the way you look at me when you find more of my socks scattered around. I miss holding you and racing shopping carts in Target with you. I miss your laugh and your smile and just being near you. “Probably. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” The words sounded like they pained him. “Take all the time you need.”

“This isn’t payback,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is not payback for the time we spent hiding, okay?”

Sirius gave him an astonished look. “How did you…?”

“Because I know you.” He was miserable. So fucking miserable. “I know you, Sirius, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

One question hung unspoken between them. Then why are you staying away?

Day Six

Sirius was gone when he woke up, but a sticky note in his careful handwriting rested on the end table near Remus’ face. He frowned as he sat up—he been too drained to deal with tangled blankets when he went to sleep, but sometime in the night they had been smoothed all the way up to his shoulder and a second one had been added to cover his feet. Remus shoved down the urge to burst into tears and grabbed the note to distract himself.

Remus, it began. Ouch.

Pots and I are taking Harry to the park today, I’ll be back around six. Lily said she wanted to talk with you at some point so keep an eye out for her calls. Thanks for picking up extra pasta at the store.

Love you,

Sirius

He smoothed his thumb over the note, feeling each bump and curl of Sirius’ pencil because his vision was too blurry to make out the words a second, third, fourth time. “This is bullshit,” he said to himself. “This is bullshit!”

When the slight echo of his shout faded out, he set it back on the table and curled up, drawing both blankets tight around himself. “Why am I doing this?”

1. You had sex before you went on a real date

2. You went through a traumatic event and are still working through it

3. You’re so fucking scared of how much you love him

4. You want to spend forever with him because he’s your best friend, too

5. Normal couples date for at least a year before moving in together

6. Normal couples—

“Fuck it.” He shook his head to clear the anxiety list from his brain. He had been reciting it to himself for days as some sort of convoluted justification. “Fuck it. I love him and this is bad for both of us. So what if we’re not a normal couple? What the hell is a normal couple? We’re never going to be normal and I love him, I love him, I…”

The low sobs that resonated in his chest burned in the best way. His breathing was even, but he just couldn’t repress this anymore. “I’m a coward,” he sniffled, sliding further under the heavy blankets. His pajamas only smelled like laundry detergent and regret. “And an idiot.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Lils.”

“Well, you sound like a wreck.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Re?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

“And I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“I’m done self-flagellating to try and fit the societal standards of a healthy relationship based on heterosexuality.”

“There’s my Remus,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”

“Better now. I’ll fix this when Sirius gets home.”

“Good. You’re both suffering from this.”

Day Seven

When Remus woke up, it was pitch-black outside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to the ceiling, scrubbing at his itchy eyes. The wall clock read 12:06. After another thirty minutes of crying, he had cleaned the whole house top to bottom, went for a run, and then apparently passed out on the couch for five hours.

Fix this. In any other circumstance, Remus would have spent at least an hour fretting over every tiny detail. But this was Sirius. This was about owning the fact that he was happiest with Sirius and that he had unintentionally hurt him by trying to create distance that they didn’t actually need.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was a moment of silence, then a sleepy voice. “Re?”

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was dark as he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Sudden nervousness washed through him. “I’m sorry.”

There was a rustle as Sirius sat up. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought—” His mouth was so dry. “It’s so stupid.”

“Please tell me.”

“I thought we needed space. I didn’t want space, you didn’t want space, but I was afraid we were moving too fast and that we’d suddenly wake up one morning and hate each other. That everything would crumble because we rushed into everything.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“After day three, yeah. And then I was just worried. You seemed really unhappy and I didn’t know why.” Sirius paused. “Um, I called your mom.”

“What? When?”

“Friday morning. That was what, day…four? I heard you crying downstairs and I was afraid someone had died or something.” His voice wobbled. “She was worried, too, but she said you might just need to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Can I…?”

“C’mere.” Sirius reached over and lifted the edge of the covers up on Remus’ side—as far as he could tell, they had been left tucked in the whole time. “I love you,” he murmured as Remus curled up.

“I love you so much.” He carefully reached out and brushed their hands together, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. “So much, you have no idea. That was the worst week.”

Sirius’ heartbeat was steady as Remus kissed the top of his head and melted into his warmth. “I capped the toothpaste in the bathroom.”

When Remus laughed, it was a little teary. “I say this with all the love in the world, Sirius, but I couldn’t care less about the goddamn toothpaste. I care about you.”

His hold tightened and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. I know, it said. I’ve got you. I love you. You can stay.

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Just a Dream Away

Chapter 2/13 read here on ao3!

for the @harringrovebigbang!

~~~~

The news isn’t any easier to stomach after a whole night to think.

It was hard enough for Steve to cope with this decision on his own, but calling Susan on the phone and asking what she thought about pulling the plug on her stepson was next to impossible. Maybe it was just actually saying it out loud for the first time that made it so hard for him, but he was barely able to get the words out.

“Hello?” Susan sounds confused about getting a call so early on a Sunday morning.

“I need to ask you something.” Steve says quickly. Susan waits on the other end, but the words just won’t come out of his mouth. Steve is thankful she's at least more patient than her husband. “The doctors all think- and I wanted to ask you first even though I’m his representative- they think Billys not doing too good and that we should do some thinking about this but, you know he’s just been in there so long and-“

“I understand, Steve.” She isn’t going to make him say it, the words that had been tumbling around somewhere in his head since the very beginning, and he is thankful for it. “I think, if it’s time to let him go, I support that decision.”

“What about Neil?”

“This is not his choice to make.” Susan sighs, and says simply. She had seen the worst of Neils abuse and knew that, even though things weren’t always so bad, Billy wouldn’t want his dad to have any say in a decision this important had he been able to express his wishes. “You do what’s best for Billy.”

Steve thanks her and hangs up before he could break, her words threatening to ruin the promise he’d made to himself to stay strong. He repeated it over and over in his head that he was doing the right thing and there was no reason to cry or be sad.

He hadn’t caught a wink of sleep, something he was more than used to by now, but last night was especially hard on him. It had set in that he was going to do something impossible, the guilt and the heartbreak washing over him until he just had to give up on sleeping entirely. It felt like he was rushing Billy's death, no matter how much thought had actually gone into this choice of how much time into trying to save him, it would always feel like a spur of the moment decision.

But six long months don’t count as sudden. The countless nights and days dragging on as Billy only got sicker and sicker don’t count as out of nowhere. He’d been suffering and Steve knew that the whole time, he was just too scared to make the call that was sitting heavy in the back of his thoughts the entire time.

Billy was a healthy eighteen year old boy. If he wasn’t already gone, he would have woken up by now, or at least improved in the slightest. All signs pointed to him having given up the fight, or encountered some unseen obstacle keeping him unconscious. Either way, Steve has come to rationalize that it's not right to keep him around, suffering just so he could die later.

Because if he was really being honest with himself, there was zero chance of him recovering anymore, not a small chance or an unlikely one, but none at all, at least not fully enough that he’d ever be healthy or truly conscious or himself ever again, so this was for the best. Goddamn was that so much easier to say than to actually go through with though.

Steve could spend the rest of his life telling himself it was right, but he was going to meet Max and Susan at the hospital, and Billy was going to die. The boy he had fallen more in love with than he had ever been before, the boy he’d even promised himself to each with a ring they’d stolen from their mothers, was going to die.

Driving to the hospital the day before had felt bad enough, but today is worse.

Maybe one day he’d be able to see these last six months Billy spent in the hospital as a blessing, his second chance to get the closure he needed, to let Billy go peacefully instead of on the dirty floor of the ruined mall, but for now, he just felt miserable. Like all he’d done was extend his pain just to kill him anyways.

Pulling into the parking lot, he sees Neil’s truck and Nancy’s car. They were already out of their cars and waiting for Steve, Max hiding her tear stained face in her mother’s coat, and Nancy politely listening to something Susan was saying. She was only here to drop off Eleven, who had been back in Hawkins to visit Dustin on his birthday and wanted to come, and Lucas, who promised Max he’d be there to support her, no matter what he thought of her brother. What surprised them all though, was that Neil had showed up too.

He’s stood away from everyone else, arms crossed tight over his chest and a stone cold look on his face. Steve locks eyes with him through the windshield, and he can see something regret clear in Neils eyes. Maybe it was denial that things would ever get this bad that made him so insistent to not have anything to do with his son while he was sick, the idea that he’d come home someday and he could antagonize him then, but that wasn’t the reality of the situation, and perhaps that is exactly what brought him out today. Steve doesn’t feel bad for him either way.

As he kills his engine and gets out, Susan and Nancy shoot him an identical sympathetic look before the latter scampers back to her own car, wanting nothing to do with this situation. Nobody trusted Steve to drive their kids around anymore, and everybody else was busy but Nancy, so she had to drive the kids. Steve’s not sure if it’s the guilt from aiming a gun at Billy and pulling the trigger without remorse or if she still hated his guts as much as she did in high school, but again, Steve doesn’t care.

Nobody matters to him but Billy today.

The opposite wasn’t true, they were in return worried about Steve. Only a few nurses under a vow of silence and Heather who’d died with the secret ever knew about what he and Billy had, but everyone still understood how close they were, and knew that, other than Max of course, he’d be taking this the hardest.

They let him lead the way, but before they could go into room B-216, Susan stopped him with a delicate hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think I should be in there.”

“I think it’s better if you are.” Steve says, taking in a shaky deep breath, feeling strange comforting Susan of all people. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

A sob from Max echoes through the empty hallway, and that’s what does it for Susan, seeing that her daughter needed her support in there. She nods with a ghastly look on her face, and steps aside to let Steve enter the room first.

Instead of the chair where he usually sat, he sat on the side of Billy’s bed, and Max followed his lead to sit on the other. Eleven took the chair, Lucas sidled up behind Max, and Susan drifted to the corner by the window. Neil stood at the door with his arms still crossed, ever imposing. Steve just ignored his presence entirely.

A nurse had followed them into the room as well, stopping at the door with her little clipboard to say, “Whenever y’all are ready.”

They wouldn’t be ready for six more hours.

To Steve, that time feels almost more torturous than even Starcourt, than helplessly watching from across the room as Billy collapsed to the floor, because this time, he knew what was going to happen. That little gleam of hope he’d gotten when Max screamed that Billy was still breathing was not there this time. He still wasn't ready for what was going to happen now, but he supposes in a way, he should be grateful that it wasn’t the same, and he’ll have the chance to say goodbye.

Steve couldn’t speak for everyone, but he also used the time to think. About Billy, and who he had been, how much he had meant to Steve and the things he wanted in life. About all the things that led them to this moment, and everything that would come after.

It was mostly silent in the room, everyone just a little bit in shock, most of them crying at least once. But Steve swore up and down he was going to keep his composure, he would not let those kids, or his Billy, see him crack.

They make it especially hard to keep that promise though, knowing that Max was mad at him and that Lucas, who he’d never seen be anything other than headstrong and brave, even has a tear on his cheek, and when El is shaking and holding back sobs and Billy is going to die. It feels like he is underwater, with each beep of the heart monitor sinking further and further from the surface, away from his friends and from Billy.

He is in shock too, he guesses. All he can do is focus on Billy. The barely there freckles scattered across his nose, the arch of his lips, the tattoo on his shoulder, his golden curls and his long eyelashes. He wishes he could see the pretty blue eyes underneath.

Somebody says his name, he isn’t quite sure which of them it was. He feels himself turn his head in their direction, but his eyes are glued to Billy, taking in every little detail of his lover before it was too late. Before he’d never see his face again.

At one point, Susan checks the time and suggests they all go down to the cafeteria for a little break, but nobody, including her, moves at all. They all knew the longer they waited to pull the plug, the closer they got to not doing it at all. Steve kind of hopes that will be the case, that they will just keep putting it off and putting it off until visitation hours end, and they’ll have to come back the next day, and the next, and this won’t ever have to happen.

That wouldn’t work though, and in truth, he doesn’t really want it to. They are ready, and so is Billy.

At 5:30, Steve gives Max a look, and she nods sharply, a tear dripping off the end of her nose. He leans forward, and presses the orange call nurse button.

A solemn lady he doesn’t recognize, Billy's doctor probably, knocks on the door and comes in. She asked if they were sure, bringing along even more papers for him and Susan to sign about what would happen to Billy afterwards and to give written consent to pull the plug so they wouldn’t be able to open a case against the hospital for Billy's death.

She explains to them it might not be immediate, that he could live for hours, or even days without the support before he dehydrated or suffocated, but they didn’t think it would come to that. Although his heart had only really been grazed by the initial injury, it was getting weaker with every day that passed, the medicine they pumped into his body slowing its rate, ruining the muscle, and it was estimated that he probably wouldn’t make it through the night, if even for that long.

She worked around Steve and Max, removing IVs, tubes, anything that was artificial, and then it was time to wait. Immediately his heart rate slowed, and Steve felt himself starting to panic, thinking that this was already going to be it, but it plateaued and kept going steady.

Susan’s quiet voice comes from the corner, “Do you think we should talk to him?”

The doctor smiles artificially. “I think that would be the best thing you could do.” She takes the papers back and leaves.

Nobody wants to be the first to break the quiet.

El still struggled too much with her words to say anything, especially since she hadn’t had much practice with something like this. Her dad had been ripped away from her too, without so much as a goodbye. Loss wasn’t something she could articulate, so in the place of words, she holds Billy's hand in her right, and Max’s in her left.

Lucas had his hand on her back, rubbing circles there to calm her down. There were tears streaks on his cheeks, probably from seeing the girls so torn up, but he really didn’t know Billy, and he was uncomfortable enough with Neil looming. He didn’t have anything to say to him, and they all understood that.

It was hard for Max to think of anything to say, every emotion too strong within her to pick one thing to say. She was devastated, that her brother was going to die and she hadn’t been there with him every moment, and angry, that Steve got to make the choice whether he got to live and that her step father was in the room, and somewhere under the surface, relieved that Billy wouldn’t be suffering anymore. It was her best friends’ silent support that gave her the courage to speak up.

“I was supposed to say goodbye to you when you left for work that day, but I didn’t because I was being jerk and I was mad at you for something dumb. I guess this is my chance though so.. bye Billy. M’gonna miss you, or really I already do ‘cause, you know... I'm sorry for not being a good sister, but I don’t think you would’ve liked me if I was.” She chuckles wetly, a sob disguised as much at least, “I love you, bubba. I'm sorry.”

Silence blankets the room except for her sniffling, and Steve knows it’s his turn. Before he’d got there, he was planning out things he could say that would sound as platonic as possible, anything to try to save his image in front of the kids and Billy's parents apparently, but he scraps it all in the moment. These were the last moments he’d ever spend with his Billy, he couldn’t care less anymore who knew about them or not. He just needed him to know how much he loved him.

He wishes he had just a little more time to think, but Neil and Susan have nothing to say to Billy. Figures. Quite frankly, Steve is glad they hadn’t said a word either.

Billy and Susan never got along. He admitted he didn’t blame her for being complacent in his father’s abuse, but he still found it hard to move past her standing idly by while he was getting hurt. He had once swore when he’d turned up at Steve’s front door with a broken wrist that he would never forgive her for just standing by. It was for the best, Steve thinks, that she didn’t speak now.

Then there was Neil, never a man of many words, but Steve thinks he might’ve needed a second hospital bed if he’d opened his mouth. He was in some part okay with the fact that he was here, Billy would’ve wanted him to be present, but he drew the line at him opening his mouth. That man had tortured Billy, had put all kinds of terrible motions in his head about love and his worth and a thousand other things that left Billy confused and hurt, so Steve wholeheartedly blames him for his son's fate. Believes it was Neil and what he’d done to him that made Billy give up the fight.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve moves up the bed closer to Billy, and takes his hand in his. He bites his chapped lips and thinks long and hard about what he wants to say, leaving out all the bad, depressing things he could say. He got to choose what his last words would be to Billy, and he would be damned if they weren’t going to be positive.

“Bill, where do I even start? You’ve been so brave. I promised you you would become something great, and you did. You were our hero, but I’m so, so glad I know you as more than that. Because you were, you were an amazing older brother, a determined kid who could have had anything he wanted in life, and you were my partner.” There's a collective intake of breath, a sniffle from Max, and Neil leaves the room entirely, but Steve keeps going, “I’ll have the memories we made forever, and I will hold onto them as dearly as I have you all this time. I love you. I will always love you, Billy.”

The whole time he’d been speaking, his eyes had been flickering back and forth between the heart monitor and Billy’s face, checking for any sign that he could hear him and that they were doing the wrong thing, but there was nothing. Nothing but his too-slow heart beat droning on and on, maybe faltering more often than it should.

Steve knows that means it’s time to let go, so he finishes, his throat tight and his hands shaking, saying what he’d been fearing he’d have to since the very beginning, “You’ve fought hard enough, baby. You can let go.”

Twenty minutes later, at 6:19 on Sunday, January 25th, William Reuben Hargrove took his last breath.

Steve felt Max sob so hard that the bed shook, then stand up and throw herself into Lucas’ arms, and he heard Susan gasp and saw her cover her mouth with her hand and put her shaking hand on El’s shoulder. He heard a nurse open the door so far and so fast it hit the wall, but he didn’t really comprehend any of it. Deeper and deeper he continued under the water, sinking away from this reality he wanted nothing to do with.

He’s still clutching Billy's hand like his life depends on it when Susan says from behind him. “It’s time to go, Steve.”

But he can’t move. Some force is keeping him sitting in that bed next to Billy. His legs won’t work and his hand wouldn’t let go and he regrets this, just knows he can't leave him there alone. The kids are already herded out of the room, all in a huddle out in the hallway as they try to dry their tears.

The nurses wait patiently, heads down and hands crossed politely, for Susan to get Steve out of there, so they could then get Billy out too.

Steve is in shock though, and if it weren’t for the staff and his friends, he probably could, or rather would, stay there indefinitely. He was so distant from what was actually happening, that he hadn’t quite taken note of how quickly Billy had started to go.

Already the color is gone from his lips, and his hand, still held tightly in Steve’s, grows colder by the second. He’d been so weak already, it didn’t take very long at all, and they really don't think Steve should see him like this, lest the images of Billy in life be corrupted.

Susan puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes, and it was as though he was brought back to reality. Looking up at her with his brown eyes wide and teary, he stands up. He looks back to Billy and gasps softly, stepping forward to press one final kiss just to the side of Billy’s lips, and turns to leave.

Where Susans hand is pressed into the small of his back, she can feel him shaking. As soon as he is out of the door, Max pulls him into a hug tight enough he feels like he could break.

“I had no idea.” She sobs into his shirt, “I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault.” Steve answers numbly, a lump in his throat.

Max clings to his side, sniffling as they take the stairs down to the first floor. Steve keeps his head down, hating the sympathetic looks they were getting from the staff and from the people in plastic waiting chairs watching them as they left the hospital.

He’s halfway back to his car when Nancy, who’s been waiting to drive Max's friends back home, stops him, offering, “Let me take you home, Steve.”

He looks, and the kids are already loading up into Susan’s truck, and Steve wonders vaguely when they’d discussed this arrangement. “What about my car?”

She had already walked him to her brand new Honda CRX, a gift from her mother in case of an emergency, and opened the door, not taking no for an answer, “You can come back for it tomorrow.”

So he just lets her drive him, too numb to argue or really to drive himself. They pull into his driveway, and he mumbles out a thanks and tries to leave, but she puts her hand on his. “Listen, I don’t think you should be alone right now Steve. I can stay or I could call Robin for you if you’d like.”

“I’ll be alright, Nance.” Steve assures. Neither of them believe it.

“Are you sure, I-“ Nancy starts, but he gets out of the car and closes the door in her face, leaving her to debate with herself whether she should try to stay and force him out of isolation, or if she should leave him to grieve in privacy. Hesitantly, she chooses the latter.

Steve and her are not as close as they used to be, for reasons she does regret dearly, and she knows her company isn’t going to be what he needs right now. Staying in her car, she waits until his front doors shut behind him, and leaves, all the way home wondering if she’d done what was best for him. Ironic, that already people were worrying for Steve in the same way he alone had for the dead boy.

Back at Max’s house, Max goes straight to Billy’s room, taking initiative to claim everything in his space before Neil could come in and throw it out. She had heard about how when Billy’s mother left, Neil had gotten rid of every last one of her belongings, leaving nothing behind for his son but the picture of his mom he kept in a locket around his neck, the one he was still wearing even now, and her ring, which was already safe with Steve. She was going to make sure Neil wouldn’t touch a thing in that room, not even to dust it if she had her way.

Susan is occupied with trying to talk through what had happened at the hospital to her husband, excuse the part where Steve had outed them, watching in frustration as he remained entirely indifferent. It was only on the surface, just as it would be for any father, but still, he’d been so terrible to his son for so many years, he knew he didn’t have the right to be upset. He’d almost been the cause of Billy’s death enough times that, now that it had actually happened, it didn’t leave him devastated in the way it should’ve.

Steve on the other hand, he didn’t get that luxury of only caring with half of his heart. His whole world had been turned on its head, and he’d just lost the only thing that was keeping him going trying to get it back upright. All he had to look forward to was visiting Billy and the prospect of him waking up one day. Now that would never happen. Billy was dead.

That still hadn’t really sunk in, and some small part of Steve wonders if it ever would. Because he knows in his head he’ll never step foot in that hospital again, and that he’ll never have a reason to get ready at five o'clock on the dot every morning and drive to the hospital to stay until ten at night, but it didn’t feel real.

He throws himself down in a random armchair, a half empty bottle of whiskey already on the coffee table in front of him from the night before. He has to remind himself this isn’t that same old routine, that he’s drowning his sorrow and mourning in alcohol instead of getting the liquid courage to do this again in the morning.

The phone rings twice, but he doesn’t answer it either time. He listens to it ring and ring and ring in a tone that's so disgustingly familiar to his ears after waiting up every night and day to calls from the hospital, but he stays where he was. It was just Robin calling to check on him, but he doesn’t want to talk to her, or anybody for that matter.

Billy is dead. And Steve is ruined.

~~~~

At 6:20 on Sunday, January 25th, Billy Hargrove wakes up.

The last thing he remembers is the Camaro swerving off the road. His head was bleeding and he thinks he called the cops, but everything after that is a blank.

He realizes after he blinks away the blur times in his eyes, that he’s in the hospital, which isn’t much of a surprise, he had hit his head pretty hard and now there's a huge gap in his memory. In his time he’d had enough concussions from playing sports and being roughed up by his old man to know he was at risk for something like this, but it still makes him wonder, how long had he been out for?

The room is freezing, and it looks like it’s snowing outside. He’d crashed his car in June, or was it July? The fourth maybe? He remembered fireworks, but not much else. His dad was supposed to take them all to the festival. Why hadn’t they gone?

He decides, ignoring the sinking feeling that soemthing was wrong, that he’d probably walked away from the car crash, but then one of his stupid hick friends probably blew him up with a fire work or something idiotic like that. The dull pain in his chest would certainly attest to that.

But one thing that can’t be explained is why, despite potentially being out for months now, he isn’t hooked up to anything. As a matter of fact, there is nothing even on for him to be hooked up to. The monitors are completely silent and the ventilator is cracked. Hell, even the lights are off.

Nobody’s here to visit either, not even a nurse to attend to him. Billy knows the trust between Max and him is still shaky, and his parents don’t give a shit, but the fact that even Steve isn’t here confuses him. Makes him wonder for a moment if he’s dead, and this is some strange afterlife he's bound to because he went out with some unfinished business.

He quickly rules that out though, because he can feel the overwhelming cold, the stiff sheets beneath him, and he can hear the wind through the open window, the distant chirps of whatever creatures lurked in the woods that seemed to surround everything in this damn backwoods town. Maybe that’s only because he’s in denial.

He stands from the hospital bed, walking slow on his feet, every muscle in his body aching like he hadn’t done this in a long time, over to the window to see if maybe he could see the parking lot and check for his dad's truck or Steve’s bimmer. It’s then that’s when he realizes this is not just a normal hospital room, albeit somewhat poorly lit, because the window isn’t just open, it’s totally shattered, jagged shards of glass in its frame and scattered on the once pristine floor tiles. Through the hole there are thick black vines that twist around every corner of the room, spreading out over the far wall and wrapping around the hospital equipment, the chair in the corner, all the way to the legs of the bed, like whatever these weird plants were had broken through the window and were slowly taking over the room.

With a shudder, Billy wonders if maybe they would have eventually overtaken him too.

He decides he’s not going to stick around and find that out for himself, so he ditches the hospital entirely. There’s no reason sticking around in a place that felt so, so full of death.

Making his way through the halls, this place is definitely abandoned. Not a single other patient or doctor around, just more flickering lights that reveal even more of the rot and death that he could see from his room, and what had looked like snow outside filling the corridors inside.

Walking out of the hospital is even worse, the entire town seeming like it had just up and emptied out. It’s so dark, no moon or stars above to light his way. Everything is plagued with rot, those same vines from the hospital window taking over absolutely anything they can. From houses, to cars, to the actual roads. There’s no way there is anyone still surviving out here, so what the hell is he doing here?

Of course, there’s nobody around to ask what’s going on, the streets totally empty save for the occasional sound of echoing footfalls in the distance, and more of that chittering he heard before. He assumes it’s just animals, but it's unsettling, to say the least, this feeling that as he wanders the empty town he’s being watched, but he doesn’t let it get to him and he pushes on, looking for answers.

First thing, he has to figure out wherever this hellish place he'd been shipped off to after his accident is, and how the hell he was supposed to get home from here.

The streets are vaguely familiar, which doesn’t mean much, he’d driven through and stayed in countless towns for three days to get to Hawkins from California, but the extent of damage to the town, and his head, makes it nearly impossible to really recognize where he is. At least that is, until he stumbles upon a convenience store he knows for sure he’s been to before, and recently.

He used to buy cigarettes here every Tuesday, Fridays too if he was having a bad week. When nobody could be bothered to go all the way to the next town for groceries, Neil would send him and Max down to that little convenience store with fifty bucks, so there was always a little extra left over he'd pocket for later, or to buy Max candy with.

Last summer he remembers breaking in after dark, broken glass and blood all over the floor tiles, looking for somebody. Somebody he was supposed to kill. Wait, what?

His head hurts just thinking about that last one, memories in his head he can’t begin to understand, so he moves on. Adds that to the checklist of the many things he didn’t understand right now for later. There were more pressing things to worry about right now.

As sure as he is that he’s alive, he begins to have his doubts when he finds the newspaper displayed out front of the store, kept behind cracked and foggy plastic. The only reason he initially thinks of it is to check the date, see if there were any front page stories about the world ending or a bomb dropping on their small town or something, but what he finds instead only makes it all even more confusing.

Because on page four of the paper, he reads his own obituary.

Beneath a small copy of his senior portrait, it reads the usual, that he died on the 25th of January, that was hurt in a fire on the Fourth of July and succumbed to his injuries, where he was born and who his surviving family members were. None of that makes any damn sense to him though, because again, he’s pretty fucking sure he’s not dead. Either way, his funeral is being held next Thursday in the church Susan dragged them to on Sunday’s where he’d been barred from attending after someone at the high school (Tommy, he’s 100% sure it’s was fucking Tommy) let slip that Billy Hargrove might have a taste for dick. He tears the obit out of the paper and pockets it for later. Maybe he’ll be able to find answers there.

There has to be some mistake. Something really bad happened here, so who was updating the papers in the middle of what looked to be the damned apocalypse? And who would lie about him being dead when he’s the only damn person left seemingly in the entire city?

The one, and probably only, good thing about this situation is that he knows his way home from here, so he decides that’s his next goal. He might have no idea what’s going on, but home is still home, and he definitely could use some comfort right about now.

It would normally only be about a ten minute walk, but this cold is starting to get to him, the stabbing pains in his chest and back made even worse by the temperature, making it more like a half hour of dragging himself through the impossible dark back to Cherry Lane, wheezing and wincing all the way. Only when he does finally get home, he finds that it’s a complete disaster.

All of the windows are shattered, the whole front door is missing, everything he can see inside the house from carpet to ceiling is damp and moldy. It’s totally unlivable, but he still tries to call out for somebody. The thought of making it home just to find it completely abandoned, no signs of Max, who he knew somehow would know what to do, or anyone else around, was crushing.

So he tries, “Max?” Nothing. “Dad..?” Still nothing.

Any ideas in his head of hope were gone then. He was clueless and alone and hurting and fucking terrified about this entire situation the more he thought about it.

Whatever had happened, he knew he wasn’t going to just lay down and take it. He’d find his way back to normalcy, to his family and his friends and to Steve. God he missed Steve.

This hellhole isn’t any place for such a pretty boy, but what Billy wouldn’t give to have him by his side right now. But since he isn’t here, he tries to think instead, what would Steve do?

Well, the answer is that he would panic, but after that, he’d devise a plan. Though, a plan usually means that you have at least some idea what is going on or what you need to do, and Billy has none of that. He’s in some backwards version of Hawkins, apparently all by himself, in freezing his ass off and in pain. He figures the best thing to do right now is start with the little things, trying to fix any of those problems he possibly can.

The first he's just going to have to deal with, and the second, he’d already gone looking for people and nobody was anywhere to be found, so that wasn’t getting solved either. He can do something about being cold though, and he does, going off to his room, or what was left of it, to grab a jacket.

The second he opens the door he can tell that isn't going to happen though, there’s nothing in there but more decay. Everything but the bed and the couch are gone, and even that has been stripped of the sheets. Best he’s going to find in here is an old rotten blanket off the floor, so he closes the door and moves on.

Max’s room is next in the hall, and he’s not kidding himself about squeezing into his kid sister's clothes, so he keeps walking, pushing open his parents door. With his clothes missing from their place, he has no choice but to hope his dads haven’t been cleared out too.

Instantly he can tell their room is thankfully less destroyed than his was, the closet at least far enough away from the window it hadn’t really been damaged at all yet. The entire house is still basically a cesspit though, and some of the clothes are unsalvageable. He grabs whatever he can out of there anyways, saving a wool coat, a lined flannel, some denim, and his dad's army jacket.

He has to swallow his pride, which isn’t all too hard when his teeth start chattering from the cold, and put on the bomber jacket Neil had favored last winter, between arguments the one thing he and his dad had agreed on being that Hawkins was way too cold and that Susan was crazy for picking there to move.

It’s familiar and it’s warm and it makes him want to throw up. Makes him wish that even if his dad would probably be kicking his ass right now for wandering around aimless and scared instead of winging it like a real man, that he was here by his side. Just to have someone he knew in all this mess to make things a little easier.

Next thing to worry about once he’s done being misty eyed about a stupid jacket, is the intense aching in his body, more than what he’s used to even after ten years of hair trigger beatings, so he finds the bathroom next in the shell of his house, opening the medicine cabinet to check for some kind of painkillers.

They’ve got plenty between all the injuries that happen in this house, and Susan’s Valium addiction, but that’s something only he knows about, but there’s too much moisture in the air though, and the pill bottles are all full of something sludgey that he’s not putting anywhere near his mouth. All he gets from the bathroom is a dull ache at the front of his skull, and more detached memories like the one at the store, this time of the girl he killed.

Her blood is still on the cabinet, just above the door knob too. The memory of her wide brown eyes and screaming, so much screaming sits heavy in Billy’s mind. Had he done that? Heather was his best friend, there’s no way he would have ever hurt her.

He shakes his head, chasing those thoughts from his mind. If he was unsettled before, now he’s officially freakies the fuck out. Already in a strange place, now his body is wracked with phantom pains he couldn’t explain and memories that didn’t belong to him, leaving Billy feeling like a stranger in his own skin.

What the hell had happened to him?

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #susan hargrove #neil hargrove #tw major character death #ej writer #story by ej!#the parts in italics are Billy’s pov #more tags on ao3

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

dish duty

freeform for @wayhavensummer as I really wanted to write a water fight

T Rating (for passionate kissing and general tomfoolery) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2000 words

“I wish you were a breakfast in bed kind of person,” Felix complains, though not very passionately, as he finishes what seems like his fourth stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

Esme considers herself a very controlled individual. She dresses neatly and conservatively, her home and office are impeccably organized, and she’s a vegetarian who eats, generally, a very healthy and balanced diet.

However. On the weekends, and especially with Felix’s recent influence, that goes somewhat out the window. Not all the way, but close enough to the edge. No, these are not organic whole wheat dark chocolate chip pancakes. They are the unhealthy kind chock full of additives and preservatives that children adore. But as Tina once said, everything we eat is bioengineered, right?

Felix doesn’t need to eat; well, he doesn’t need to eat a normal human’s diet, unhealthy or healthy, it doesn’t matter. But he likes to, and he has a keen sweet tooth. He claims his taste buds aren’t dulled compared to the rest of Unit Bravo because he was born as he is now, and so he has no memory or experience of eating food as a human to compare it with.

Nothing is lacking for him, because he never had it to begin with. And unlike Mason, ‘loud’ flavors or various textures don’t irk him, so Felix is pretty much willing to try anything, no matter how sweet, spicy, or sour. And especially if it involves chocolate.

“Breakfast in bed on a day like this is a terrible idea,” Esme points out as she gets up to clear her small kitchen table.

It’s not as hot out as it was yesterday, but it’s already very warm for ten o’clock in the morning- they slept in embarrassingly late- and she can tell that by midday it will be unbearable, which is why they have plans to go to an art exhibit in the city.

Esme enjoys long drives and would rather wait out today in air conditioning than suffer through it in her sweltering flat. And Felix is always willing to go to just about anything; it’s all new to him, so why not?

Worst case scenario, he doesn’t like it, and even when Felix isn’t enjoying something, Esme still enjoys him, because rather than sulk or brood he simply strikes up a running commentary on what he thinks they should be doing instead.

Yes, sometimes it’s irritating, but often she has to fight to hide the smiles he strives to coax out of her. She once took him to a lecture at a university and halfway through had to stop looking at him because he found a way to make her grin with just his eyes- the rest of his face was totally stoic.

He worked her up so much she had to excuse herself to get a drink of water, just so she didn’t burst out laughing in the middle of the professor’s droning slide-show. Felix, of course, followed her out into the hall and cornered her in an alcove, where they were sharply reprimanded by a passing janitor a few minutes later, who mistook them for two wild students who couldn’t wait to get back to their dormitory.

A year ago, the thought of this encounter, and of a morning like today, eating syrupy pancakes and lounging around in her pyjamas this late in the day, would have horrified and appalled Esme. But it is very hard to feel guilty or ashamed of anything that happens between her and Felix. Initially that frightened her, that being with him was so… easy. Nothing was ever supposed to be easy, or it wasn’t worth the effort. That had always been her motto.

But now…

“What are you doing?” she sighs, as she watches Felix stack far too many dishes on the palm of one hand, like a particularly adventurous waiter.

“Scoot,” he waves his free hand at her, showing off that he doesn’t even need both to hold them. “You’re in front of the sink.”

Esme shakes her head and steps aside as Felix deposits the rest of their dirty dishes inside the sudsy sink, which she’d just finished filling up with water.

This flat came with a small dishwater but it works terribly and Esme lived alone for so long and used so few dishes that it made more sense to just hand wash them immediately after eating. Felix thinks this is terribly boring but she refuses to have an insect infestation by leaving dirty dishes out for that long.

“I can wash them,” he says now, to her surprise. “You have to go get ready.”

“So do you,” she points out dryly. Yes, she feels oddly exposed in just a camisole and boy shorts, but he’s just in his boxers. She’s doing a very good job of not gawking at him like a schoolgirl.

Felix is not built the way Ava is, with powerful muscles and the stature of a workhorse or, as Mason would put it, a brick shithouse- but nor tall and willowy like Nat or lean and sinewed like Mason. Rather, he is toned and compact- she doesn’t know how else to describe it.

He’s a few inches taller than her, not much wider, and certainly isn’t bulging with muscles or in possession of washboard abs. But the sight of the smooth dark skin of his toned stomach and chest and the way he moves, almost like an acrobat, like he were ready to pitch forward into action at any moment, propelling himself with his arms or legs- gives her a strange combination of desire and envy. He would be an incredible gymnast and he is a beautiful dancer, moving gracefully to any rhythm without having ever heard it before.

In contrast, she feels thin and pallid and wretched- she’s petite and lacks much in the way of fat or muscle- she’s not athletic in the least, her belly forms a small pouch when she slouches, her skinny arms strain and tremble when she lugs heavy boxes of case files in and out of her office, she runs awkwardly and can’t dance to save her life, despite several years of ballet and a ballroom class in uni.

She’d like to be pragmatic and explain it’s just about feeling useful and capable of defending herself, but the truth is she’s vain and self conscious all at once. In her head, she is sleek and hard and beautiful, carved from crystal and not pasty flesh. Compared to Felix, she often feels like a melting snowman.

Felix is busy recounting her entire getting ready routine; Esme rolls her eyes and huffs but waits patiently until he’s done.

“Anyways, I just have to shower,” he shrugs.

“You’re my guest,” says Esme, “I’m not going to leave you to clean up while I powder my nose-,”

“I’m your guest?” he lays a hand on his chest in mock offense, and then his grin turns impish. “Your guest? That stings, Ez. Do all your guests come over late at night-,”

“Felix,” she warns, though her lips are twitching-

“And you sashay over the door and pull it open like, Hello, stranger-,”

“I didn’t say that!”

“No, it was cute!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be cute, you said you wanted me to surprise you, so-,”

“So I was very surprised,” he insists, and then catches her off guard by grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close.

Esme wriggles ineffectively- she’s not really trying to get away, which he knows- and then groans when he crushes her against his chest. He’s not a big man but he gives very big hugs, and she’d be lying if she said the weight and pressure wasn’t reassure, like a heavy quilt bundled around her. But… it’s hot. And he runs hot, too.

She says as much, into his chest, and then, to her alarm, hears him laugh, reach over, scoop up some soapy water with his hand, and drizzle it down her head.

Esme shrieks and rips away from him- Felix’s gold eyes are huge in his face, she can tell he’s torn between delight at his own daring and worry that he pushed her too far and she’s truly infuriated- but instead she touches at her damp hair in shock, then snatches up a wet rag from the counter and flings it at him. It hits him directly in the face; he yelps and bats it away, and she darts back, snickering.

“Oh, so you want a bath instead?” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“No, no, no,” Esme is saying, but the laughter leaking out between her protests says otherwise. “You started it-,”

“Yeah, so I’ll finish it. Come here, Ezza, let me wash you off- you have suds in your hair-,” he feints a lunge at her and she shrieks again, like a giddy teenager, then clamps her hand over her mouth, worrying the neighbors might hear.

Felix has no such concerns, and makes another grab for her- he secures her wrist and she slips on the tiled floor- he takes advantage of this to scoop her up, and flings her over his shoulder, which is barely broad enough for her thrashing torso to fit.

“Oh my God, what are you doing- Felix!” she shouts when he pins her there with one arm, grabs a cup with the other, and dumps water down her back. It’s barely cold but she yelps all the same- he sets her back down, triumphant that now her camisole is drenched and clinging to her, and she darts around him and hits him with a sponge, spraying more soap suds all over his bare chest.

“Wow,” he says. “Wow. That’s weak- that’s a really weak move, Detective, where is your tactical brilliance- okay, pretend I’m a Trapper, what do you do-,” he grabs at her arms to pin them but she successfully ducks out of his reach and hurls the sponge at him as he gives chase out of the kitchen.

“Don’t get water on the floors! I just mopped!”

“You’re the one who took it here!”

She leaps into the bathroom, breathless and trembling with adrenaline and laughter, and tries to slam the door shut in his face, but she never stood a chance of outrunning him- even if they were both human, she wouldn’t have. Still, she notes how careful he is, in the moment, not to crowd her in the confined space, worried about knocking her into the hard porcelain sink or toilet, and he waits until she steps back into the shower, cornered.

His hand hovers near the spout.

“Don’t you dare,” Esme warns.

He turns it on, and cold water cascades down full force onto her, soaking her to the skin. But before she can even flail or sputter, he’s stepped in beside her, wrapping himself around her, the contrast of his warm skin and the cold water making her cling to him all the more.

He kisses her lips, and she tastes soap for an instant, making her grimace, but then he’s moved onto her neck, lips tugging and pulling at the skin there, and she digs her fingers into his shoulder blades as she kisses his jaw in return, dragging her teeth across the corner of his lips.

When he heaves her up so he is half holding her, one hand under her thigh, the other leg stationary, she surges against him until his back is against the tiled wall and they are both directly under the flow of water. Then she gropes at the dial and shuts it off; it extinguishes to a trickle, causing beads to flow down their upturned faces.

She’s panting- he’s not as breathless, but jittery and shivering all over, and not from the cold water.

“Felix,” Esme whispers, and pecks him on the lips again as he reluctantly releases her.

“Yeah?” His pupils are languidly dilating, like a golden bloom.

“You did say you would do the dishes…”

He heaves with silent laughter, and then mouths something at the ceiling. “You’re killing me.”

“I know,” she smiles. “But you started it.”

Out of kindness, she takes a very quick cold shower, so she can help him dry off, too.

#felix hauville #esme kingston #wayhaven summer #the wayhaven chronicles #one shot

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aperrywilliams · 4 years

Text

The Right Moment (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Summary: Love confessions doesn't count in Spencer’s strengths. Don't you think?

Word Count: 5010.

Warnings: Curses… is so soft anyway. Fluff.

A/N: I’m so happy. This is my first fic with a beta, so y’all will not suffer with my all writing mistakes of before ones. All the love to the great @imagining-in-the-margins

——————–

The first time I saw (Y/N), I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing for a few seconds. I could have counted the exact time, but I was so focused on looking at her that I only realized it when I was almost choking on my own breathlessness.

We were all in the conference room waiting for Prentiss to review a new case. She had already notified us a new member would be joining the team, which was a relief considering the amount of cases was getting quite heavy. Even just one more member could be of great help. When the two of them entered the room and Emily began to speak, I lifted my head from the file in front of me.

"Guys, this is the SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is joining our team since today. (Y/N), meet the SSA Luke Alvez, SSA Tara Lewis, SSA Jennifer Jareau, SSA David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid".

Everyone gave their welcome words except me, of course, given my edginess. I just nodded my head in greeting without saying a word. She waved back and quickly sat down to begin reviewing the case.

I couldn't say exactly what was the first thing about (Y/N) that I fell in love with. Perhaps it was her appearance as a determined woman, confident, intelligent, friendly, and very nice. She looked like those kinds of people who are able to fill a room with their mere presence. It wasn't long before my hypotheses about her were confirmed. Indeed, the entire team loved her immediately. She was the first person to say hello to Penelope in the mornings. She teased Luke as she passed by his desk, and bonded quickly and closely with JJ, Tara, and Emily. Rossi loved her too, especially at dinners at his house, where (Y/N) was always the first to compliment the chef.

And me? Well, it wasn't long until we became best friends. She was one of the few people who didn't bother or interrupt my ramblings. There were many times we had to make geographical profiles and visit crime scenes together; clearly not very romantic things. But the time we spent together was growing both inside and outside work. In our rare free time, we would go for a walk or watch a series sitting on the couch at her place or mine.

Those were the moments where I felt I fell more and more in love with her. For a long time, I tried to push those thoughts away by telling myself that it was something platonic, that it was the attraction of someone with a very different personality than mine. I tried to convince myself that eventually, the infatuation would pass and our friendship would persist. But seeing how the months passed and the feeling didn’t subside, I began to sink into despair within myself. I tried not to feed myself any hope.

(Y/N) was leading her life very well and I fit perfectly as the best friend – just that. Someone to trust and a shoulder to cry on. I tried to convince myself having her around was more than enough for me, even if there was no romantic interest from her.

"Do you know what it’s called? The Friendzone." Emily said to me one day after I had to confess my feelings towards (Y/N) to someone. A somewhat forced confession, since the whole team knew it already without me saying a word. It sure was printed on all my face.

"Whatever your name it, I’ll never get out of there". I replied with a shrug.

"But why don't you tell her? You should be honest with her about this, Spencer. You’re friends. You trust each other, right?" Emily inquired, trying to awaken some courage in me to express my feelings to the woman herself.

"Tell her? No, of course not. Our relationship would become weird. I don't want that.” I replied with a shake my head.

"How do you know if isn’t mutual? You two spend a lot of time together, and I've seen how you seeing each other. Maybe she also likes you." Emily was a very good FBI agent, but not the best cupid. There was no point in what she was saying to me. Friends can also spend a lot of time together. That doesn't mean anything.

"Of course it is not reciprocal! Two days ago, she told me she had a date with Tim Robertson from Organized Crime and she was 'excited.'” I emphasized the word ‘excited’ by making the quotes marks with my fingers.

"Uh-oh" she replied with that 'oh poor boy' look. “Spencer, eventually you’ll have to do something. Love is not going to disappear spontaneously.”

I only took a deep breath and drop the subject, but I kept thinking about Prentiss’ words. Was I meant to be the eternal friend? Statistics were not on my side: Studies show that if a man over 30 invites his female friend to dinner on a weekend, only 40% of women will likely consider it a date. But if the invitation is made by a non-friend male, the odds increase to 85%. If a woman is the one inviting her male friend, she is more likely he considered it as romantic date, because men are more frequently to consider everything as a date. Conclusion: I have no chance.

I felt more defeated when (Y/N) told me one day that she was now regularly dating Robertson. The boldest thing I asked her was if she liked him. She confessed to me it was ‘very likely.’

As the weeks passed, the cases came and were resolved. (Y/N) didn't spend as much time with me outside of work anymore. She had a formal relationship with the... guy... from Organized Crime. At this point not even the 'friendzone' comforted me, because I also felt I was losing my friend. What did that lead me to? Frustration. Anger. Introversion. Everything very Spencer Reid style.

One day flying back from a case, (Y/N) sat at the front of me and looked at me with concern, as I plunged into a book.

"Spencer, is something wrong?" she asked, leaning down and resting her hands on the table between us.

"Uhm? No. I'm fine." I replied, barely looking at her.

"Spencer, I know you..."

Oh, how I hate people think I’m an open book and everyone feel free to say they know me!... Even if they are right! For God’s sake!

"Are you upset with me?... You have barely spoken to me these days and we haven't sat down to talk for a long time..." She said, taking the book I had in my hands and laying it on the table. Thus, I was forced to look at her.

"No. I'm fine. Totally fine. And if we haven't talked for a long time, it's because you're apparently very busy…” My last comment wasn't very nice, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, I see." I took my book again and opened it to resume my reading. "You’re jealous of my relationship with Robertson." She stated seriously.

What? Did she know it too? Had the pilot been told, too?

"No. Of course not. Where do you get that from? You can do whatever you please with your life…” I said with the greatest calm that my boiling blood running in my body allowed me.

“You're jealous because I don't spend time with you outside of work anymore. Spencer, honey, you’ll always be a priority for me. It's just I have less time now, you know? We're just starting something, Tim and I. But I promise not to be one of those women glued to my partner all the time and neglecting my friends". (Y/N) ended her statement by gently stroking my hand over the book I was still holding. I felt relief and defeat at the same time. Clearly, it didn't feel better.

But (Y/N) was genuine to her word. Indeed, she looked for a way to adjust her time with him so we could return to some movie nights on the couch and occasional walks in the park. It felt good to at least fit into her life again. Of course, this had a flip side: knowing how her relationship with Tim Robertson worked, or not. The guy showed clear narcissistic features and although (Y/N) seemed to be aware of that - as the good profiler she was - her infatuation clouded her judgment. I couldn't blame her, either. I just tried to be gentle in my criticisms, but I saw how easily she dismissed them by always excusing him.

One night I was lying on the couch reading. It was close to 2 am when I heard two knocks on the door and a loud sob. I quickly got up to open the door and saw (Y/N) standing in front of me, crying. When she saw me, she threw herself into my arms and cried harder.

"I knew you would be awake..." She murmured with her head buried in my chest. I helped her into the apartment and sat her on the couch.

"Hey, what happened?". I asked in a soft voice so as not to disturb her more than she already was.

"I broke up with Tim..."

And here I was, with my shoulder ready to contain her tears. (Y/N) clung to my neck sobbing and cursing at the same time. It wasn’t the first time I had to witness a love breakup from (Y/N). As I said before, I was her best friend, and that forced me to know things that I often didn't want to hear, but it was only fair. She also was there for me many times. I had also cried on her shoulder and cursed - a bit - at situations that overwhelmed me.

I tried to comfort her by hugging and stroking her back. The sobs subsided over time, and eventually she fell asleep. I tucked some pillows under her head and covered with a blanket. I sat for a moment to watch her while she slept. I would have done anything not to see her this sad. She didn't deserve to be hurt by an idiot like Robertson. She deserved someone who truly loved her, unconditionally. Someone she could trust, who could be always there for her, who made her laugh and comforted her when she was sad.

She needed someone... like me?

I know, it sounds not so humble. But I would be all that for her and more if necessary. Maybe Prentiss was right. Maybe I should be honest and tell her about my feelings. At least I could know if I'd ever have a chance. Well, I would have to try. Here the results.

First Attempt

The next morning I woke up smelling a pleasant scent from the kitchen: freshly brewed coffee. I got up, rubbing my eyes before I saw (Y/N) making breakfast.

"Good Morning. Breakfast is ready!” She gave me a warm smile.

"Hey... you didn't have to bother with breakfast." I replied in a raspy voice due to the disuse as I slept. "How do you feel?" I hastened to ask.

"Like I broke up with my boyfriend. But it's okay. It'll okay.” (Y/N) said, giving a deep sigh. I approached the counter where she was while she passed me two plates ready with pancakes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, placing the plates on the table and sitting in one of the chairs. She got two mugs with coffee and sat across from me.

"The usual; men who end up being assholes. The initial spark’s gone. The end.” She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "You know my taste in men follows an evident pattern, right?" (Y/N) stated with a sad smile.

"Maybe you need to double check your parameters and change it..." I said, testing the waters before I dove in. I didn't know what kind of reaction to expect, but she burst out laughing.

"I've thought about it – don't think I don’t. But bad habits are persistent.” She answered me as she cut her pancakes before popping a piece in her mouth.

"You could try at least..." Bringing out a confidence I thought I didn't have, I dared to take her hand over the table. She looked at me curiously.

"Do you think so? I honestly think I’m meant to be a total failure in love, always.” She told me with a grimace.

“I think you need a guy who understands you. A guy that’s there for you when you need him. Someone you can trust…” I didn’t know whether to persist with the description so as not to sound... too self-referential?

“But that's what I have you for, Spence. You are all that to me. That's why you are my best friend.” She said, squeezing my hand and smiling at me. I held my breath for a second and tried to continue.

"Perhaps... I could be more than that, more than a just..." I couldn't finish my idea because our phones started ringing. We had a case. End of conversation.

Fate: 1, Reid: 0.

Second Attempt

After a hard case that had us seconds from emotional overflow, Penelope had the wonderful idea we should go to a bar to 'drown' our frustrations. Hanging out with the team is always a good thing, although the idea of a bar never seemed entirely appealing to me.

Of course, I usually ended up being the designated driver since my alcohol consumption was minimal or nil. That night was no exception. Sitting with Rossi and Luke, I heard them talk about their love experiences as I watched the dance floor where Emily, Penelope, Tara and (Y/N), with high levels of alcohol in their blood, danced as if the world were to end in that moment. Rossi and Luke’s voices sounded distant to me. I could only focus on how (Y/N) moved on the dance floor and how I wished I could touch her... and kiss her... and...

"Reid? Reid!" Luke's voice brought me out of my fantasy. Not even in my own mind could I have in peace! Not even a single damn fantasy with (Y/N).

"Uhm?" I replied by inertia.

"I was asking you if you agreed with what Rossi said..." He asked. I wasn't even listening.

"Eh. Yeah. Sure. He has more experience… in everything.” I guess that answer was enough for the moment. "I'm going to get something else to drink". I said, getting up and walking to the bar. On my way I looked again to (Y/N), who kept dancing sensually with the others.

My emotional and sexual frustration by now was killing me. I gestured to the bartender for another soda. Focused on my own misery I didn't realize when (Y/N) gave me a gentle knock in the ribs with an elbow.

“Hey Reid! Don't tell me you're going to drink alcohol…”. (Y/N) joked.

"No, just a soda. You know I'm the designated driver today…” I replied as I nervously tapped the surface of the bar with my fingers. (Y/N) in her obviously drunken state suddenly hung her arms around my neck.

“Sorry Reid, always… always… you end up being our watchman. You can't even have some funnnnn…” She sighed, resting her head on my chest.

"It's okay. Seeing you all drunk to the bone can also be some fun.”. I replied, daring to take her waist to prevent her from slipping to the floor. She sighed again.

"I think... I don't feel okay... oh my… I'm feeling drowned… Spencer, I feel sick… I’m very dizzy … I feel like… ”

"Come, let's go out for some air. That’ll make you feel better."

We left through one of the back doors of the bar. Once outside, the fresh air made (Y/N) feel somewhat more restored. "Better?" I asked her.

"Yeah… I guess. But despite how drunk I’m… because I know… I’m soooo drunk… It isn’t pleasant to see that couple fucking on that wall...".I looked in the direction of her finger pointing a wall and the couple there didn't even bother acknowledging our presence. I must say some envy awoke in me. I took (Y/N)'s hand and led her further away from the alley before I pointed to the sidewalk and we sat down.

"Now we don't have to look at them." I told her. (Y/N) nodded. Breathing more coolly, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks Spencer. I don't know why you have such patience with me…” Oh boy. The emotional moment of (Y/N). Despite that, my love didn’t give up even a single millimeter.

"You don’t have to thank me. That's why we’re… friends, right?” I replied, barely outlining a smile.

"Yes. But… I don't know… you are always beyond that… I feel like I don't deserve you Spencer…” Her sobs began to mix with hiccups.

“For you (Y/N), I’ll do everything I can. Always”. I said it in a sincere tone. I never expected after having said that, that she would throw herself towards me and start kissing me. After the initial stun, my head began to wonder if that was okay.

Her drunken state told me that it was wrong, but it felt so good to have her lips on mine - ignoring the smell of alcohol, of course. It only lasted a few seconds. She pulled away quickly, as if a wave of sobriety hit her abruptly.

"Sorry! ... Spencer, I’m sorry!... I didn't want..." She started to stutter and cry at the same time.

"Hey, no... don't apologize. It’s okay…” I tried to calm her down.

"I don’t know what happened... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable..." She kept stammering, hiccupping and waving her hands in the air.

"It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t feel uncomfortable... Matter of fact, it’s the opposite." I was going to tell her; I couldn't take it anymore.

"No?..." Her confused face in another context would have made me laugh, but in that moment I was too busy being nervousing about confessing my love to a drunk woman.

"Well…". I took her hands and started stroking them gently. "For a long time I wanted to tell you... and I know we are friends, but I would like..." I had to clear my throat again. "What I mean (Y/N), is I love..."

Unable to finish the sentence, (Y/N) suddenly leaned into my lap, letting out an explosive puke on me. A second followed... and then a third.

The next day all she remembered was the dance floor, and the fact she emptied her stomach on me.

Third Attempt

I hate cases where unsubs try to escape. That always means a chase, and dramatically increases the probability of someone getting hurt. It was in Alabama, and the unsub had hidden himself in a barn. (Y/N) and I stepped in with our flashlights and weapons in search of him. J.J. and Luke were in the backup group.

What we didn’t expect was the bastard climbing onto an attic with his gun pointed at us. When I lit up his face with my flashlight and pointed at him with my gun, I only managed to shout "Stop! FBI!” before I heard a shot in my direction.

I felt a burning and intense pain near my face before falling to the floor. With another shot, (Y/N) struck him in the chest and the unsub fell to the floor.

Oh God, my body hurt a lot. I felt the blood run down my shoulder. The bastard had shot me in the neck! I was going to die in a filthy barn and without having ever declared my love to (Y/N). She quickly knelt down and tried to locate the source of the blood, pressing her hand to my wound.

"We need medics here!" She yelled frantically. I felt dizzy, and (Y/N)’s voice was further and further away.

Was I really going to die there? At least if that was going to happen, I had to tell her. "(Y/N) ..." I said to get her attention.

“No, no… no… don't speak Spencer, keep your eyes open, but don't speak. The paramedics are coming. Come on, squeeze my hand!"

"I have to tell...".I tried to speak but between the dizziness and the pain, I had trouble articulating words.

"Spencer, please. Listen to me. You're going to be fine… everything will be okay.” She tried to reassure me.

"I... love you..." I managed to say, trying to look her in the eye. She looked at me tenderly.

I said it! I said it! I could die in peace now, couldn’t I?

"Spencer, honey..." She said while stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and the paramedics came to check me. One of them asked (Y/N) what happened and how I was doing. She summed up the incident and finished off by saying between sobs, “Please do something. He is dying. He even started to rave."

Fuck!

Then I fell passed out and I don't remember anything else.

The Summary

I could keep on listing the times when I tried to tell her. None of them seemed to be the right moment. And when it did seem to be, something happened. Destiny definitely didn’t want my confession to come to light. So okay, I thought, maybe I should just keep it to myself forever.

One morning, I stepped in the conference room with my usual coffee in hand. There were Luke, Emily, Penelope, Tara, JJ and (Y/N). The conversation was about the latest BAU girls' night. I sat down, taking one of the files settled on the table and starting to leaf through it.

"No! In defense of (Y/N), I must say she was as calm as we were at the table when the guy approached to her.” Tara said.

"Ah, so there was no flirting?" Luke asked.

"Hey! Who do you think I am, Luke? We were there for girls' night, not to catch lovers." (Y/N) replied laughing.

"Of course, they didn't stop looking at each other all night..." Stated JJ with a giggle.

"No JJ! I don't know who you were looking at, but it wasn't me." (Y/N) defended herself. The conversation was inherently awkward for me at that point. I silently didn’t take my eyes off the file in my hands.

"Well, even if she did it, (Y/N) is a free woman and could have run away with whoever she wanted, right?" Luke had a point and that made my blood boil. I'm sure Prentiss noticed.

"Okay, but nothing happened in the end. The guy left and we kept drinking. And here we are, safe and sound.” Prentiss summarized, trying to end the conversation. My hands were sweating, and I looked sideways at (Y/N) who was giggling nervously. Prentiss was probably lying just because I was there.

“Oh yeah, but just before leaving he slipped you a piece of paper with his phone number. I'm sure you saved it in your contacts and called him later!” Penelope said directly to (Y/N), who didn't say anything back. Okay. I was fed up. This conversation had to end at that very moment. I closed the file and dropped it on the table with all the force of my frustration. I got up from the chair, clenching my fists and saying "Enough!" with my jaw clenched. Everyone in the room froze and stared at me in astonishment. Prentiss was the first to react.

"Okay, Luke, Tara, JJ Penelope... to my office. Now." Emily quickly left the room and the rest following her almost instantly. (Y/N) looked confused as the group left, then fixed her eyes on me.

"Spencer?... what's going on ?"

In silence, I closed the door of the room and leaned my back on it, crossing my arms over my chest looking at (Y/N). "You okay?"

"Not. I'm not okay. This is driving me insane.” I said, uncrossing my arms and scratching the back of my neck.

"Tell me, what's going on? Maybe I can help..." (Y/N) tried to get up from the chair to approach me.

"Just don't say anything, okay? I just need you to listen to me, and I need no one and nothing to interrupt me this time.” Just as a precaution I locked the door. (Y/N) opened her eyes with concern.

"Spencer, you're scaring me..." I just stared at her as she remembered I told her not to speak. "I’m sorry..."

“I'm going to start at the end, to make sure you hear it well. Okay?” I cleared my throat and continued speaking. “I love you (Y/N), I've loved you since practically the first day that you walked through this same door with Emily. And no, this goes beyond our friendship. Of course, I love being your friend. But that is no longer enough for me. Every time I see a man in your life, I feel something burning inside me. It hurts me deeply to see you suffer for some idiot who doesn't deserve you. I can’t take it anymore. I tried to tell you so many times, I think I’ve lost count. But if you never even considered the possibility, then I can't do anything else.

You don't even remember that you kissed me outside a bar! When I told you that I loved you while almost dying in a dirty barn, you thought I was delusional! Every time... every single time I thought I gave you signs, you either didn't see them or you didn't care. I don't know what hurts me the most, your blindness or your indifference. You’re a profiler like me! How is it possible that you never…? Damn it (Y/N)! The thing is, I can't live with this stuck inside me anymore. And I'm sorry if telling you all this ends up ruining our friendship, but not being honest with you seems so much worse now. And... and... since I told you this, I think you can go on with your day... Goodbye".

I pulled the lock and opened the door to leave the room. After my confession/outburst, I didn't even dare make eye contact with (Y/N). I was about to cross the threshold when one of (Y/N) 's hands slammed it shut again. I turned around and (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around my neck before she lifted on her feet and collapsed her lips against mine. My first reaction was to raise my hands and smash my back against the door. Stupid reaction, I don't even know why I did it.

That didn't stop (Y/N), who gripped my hair to keep our mouths together. Realizing what was happening, I took her by the waist and brought her as close as possible to me, emptying all my accumulated frustration into that kiss. I don't know how long we were like this.

Okay, yeah, I really do know. It was 2 minutes and 45 seconds. After that time, we both pulled away because we could hardly breathe.

"Wow... (Y/N)... what ...?" I tried to articulate some coherent phrase, but nothing else came out.

"Now you are going to listen to me." She said as she began to play with my tie between her fingers. “First of all: neither blindness nor indifference. Denial only. Spencer... I'm clear on all the times you tried to tell me. Really, even before I broke up with Robertson. Since the time we talked on the jet and I asked you if you were mad at me. I just wanted to deny it all this time. It’s stupid, I know, but I didn't want to hurt you. I was scared I would hurt you if I crossed that border of our friendship. And yes, I also remember the night at the bar. And when you got shot in the barn. I must insist, it was all to deny myself the possibility.

And here comes the second: I did it because I... I love you too. I have for a long time. Why didn't I do anything about it...? Well, it’s kind absurd now I think about it. I did nothing because I was afraid of ruining it. All my relationships end in disaster and I didn’t want that to happen to you. And if that meant locking myself out of the possibility of going further, I was willing to do that so I wouldn’t lose you…”

This time it was I who connected my lips with hers. It felt so good, so soft, and so warm. Not even my best dreams could compare to it. When we pulled back to catch our breath, we looked at each other and started talking at the same time.

"I’m so sorry Spencer... I never wanted you to feel like this..."

"I was waiting for the right moment..."

"If I knew how to compensate you for this..."

"(Y/N), if I had known..."

“What the hell Spencer, why we are so bad at our job…”

"We are the worst ... we should resign..." We both started laughing.

"Come here, Reid." She said, taking one of my hands and pulling me into a hug. "Could you forgive me for making you suffer all this time?"

She didn't need to ask me that. I would do anything for her.

"I let you puke on me... 3 times in one night. I think that exceeds all tolerance limits on my part, don't you think?"

She started to laugh, stifling the noise on my chest. It felt so good to have her this close, to be able to touch her.

"I love you (Y/N), so much." I said, stroking her cheeks and looking at her almost without blinking.

"I love you too Spencer. My friend, my partner… and now, my lover.” She replied, winking at me.

"Hey, that last one you still owe me... with interest due to all the time that’s already passed."

"Don’t worry, honey, you just have to hold on for a few more hours, and I assure you that we will catch up quickly".

———————

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid

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vesuvian-american-fics · 3 years

Text

better with time. Ch 13

annie leonhart.

You learn about Annie Leonhart, some questions are answered, while more form in their place. (AO3)

Words: 2,143 Two more days passed before Hange finally submitted to Levi’s pestering and protesting to put you back to work. You were thankful for it though, sitting alone with your thoughts and wracking your brain for your lost memories quickly grew boring. You were weary, and looking forward to getting out of bed and doing someone around other people, be it cleaning or eating. Something, some sort of human interaction. You were dressing for the day, just buttoning up your oversized blouse when the door was forcefully kicked open. It was later in the afternoon so; you suppose Levi assumed you’d be dressed and was uncomfortably surprised to find you only half way done. He quickly turned his back to you and you did the same gasping at his intrusion. If he was nervous you couldn’t tell, his demeanor didn’t change. His voice was steady as ever, his body language showed he was unfazed for the most part. “Sleeping in i guess. You got cleaning duty today, made sure the kitchen was nice and filthy for you.” He said as he quickly shut the door behind him. You could tell he hadn’t left just yet as you saw his shadow linger on the other side. He heaved a long-suffering sigh before you heard him bark at some other innocent victim and stalked off. Your shoulders finally relaxed as he left, a warm heat rushing to your cheeks momentarily. You groaned as you quickly finished dressing, wearing an oversized pair of slacks to match your shirt and some heavy-duty boots. You tied your hair back to keep it out of your face while you worked for the day. Awkwardly, you poked your head out into the hallway to check if the coast was clear of Levi. You’d hate to run back into him after that run in earlier. You knew he couldn’t care less, but still you weren’t looking to address that just yet. You looked left, right, and then left one last time. No one was around, you released a puff a breath before stepping into the hall.

“Who are you avoiding!” Hange shouted right behind you. They must have just materialized out of thin air, because truly you were sure no one was in the hallway just a moment ago. You felt as if you jumped about four feet into the air, your heart hammering hard in your chest. “N-no one Hange! Where did you come from?” You asked, stupefied at Hange’s apparent speed. “Never mind that, where you headed then?” Hange always had a talent for ignoring your questions, whether intentional or not. You sighed before responding, telling Hange that you’re headed to the kitchen to clean. “Ohh, sounds fun!” They playfully mused before telling you about what they had planned for the day. Training, research, more training, a meeting with Levi and Erwin, dinner, and then more research. “Commander Erwin? I thought he wasn’t coming for a few more weeks?” You inquired, cutting into your friend's dialogue. Hange explained that after Erwin heard about how your test went that he put all of his affairs on hold to come down and discuss next steps. “What do you think will happen...?” Instantly, Hange could sense your unease. Fear of the unknown, anxiety must be eating away at you. They wrapped an arm around your body before giving you’re a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry. This is all just to understand your situation better. The quicker we figure you out, the quicker things can settle for you.” Hange gave you a small smile, their eyes crinkling along with it. You could tell by the darkening bags under their eyes that they were sleepy, working through the night to meet deadlines. Writing up reports and filling out their notes... their notes about you. You couldn’t help but fear you were causing them trouble but, its not like it’s something Hange, Levi, and Erwin could ignore. And not just them, Moblit and Mike were picking up more slack to help the others. Taking more shifts to train the young scouts in their absence. All while still going out on expeditions and scouting the perimeters once a week. Your arrival changed a lot of things for these people. You smiled back to Hange, in hopes to take some of the edge off of them. Hange always had fun talking to you, and you were a great listener. Thus, it always cheers them up to see you happy and more comfortable with each passing day. That’s what friends are for. You were eternally grateful to Hange Zoe, your first friend since becoming human again. Understanding, patient, kind, funny, a great distraction from all of the noise in your mind. As the two of you reached the kitchen you both parted ways, waving good bye as you both went to handle your duties for the days. At the end of the hall, you caught a glimpse of Levi’s shiny black hair slipping into a room and following behind him was Hange, while Commander Erwin held the door for the both of them. He gave you a curt nod and professional smile before closing the door. He was out of sight now but still you felt compelled to nod back to the man, and so you did just that before turning on your hell and walking into the canteen to clean. Inside you were immediately introduced to two sets of large eyes boring into your own. One set an impressive golden hue, and the other a lovely mahogany brown. A third pair farther away looked you over once before they averted their gaze to the broom in their hand. Clumsily you stumbled off to the side to put some space between you and them. They were young, at least ten years your junior. A boy with a shaved head, large owlish eyes, one curious brow cocked hard as he studied you. A girl with her hair pulled back into a high pony tail, a loaf of bread stuck into her mouth and crumbs dusting her cheeks. “Um, hello...” You said sheepishly, you stuttered feeling awkward as they stared intently at you unblinkingly. “Are you really a titan?” The girl asked, her voice muffled as it was still filled with food. The boy next to her frowned before turning to her and snatching the loaf from her mouth. “Oi Sasha, you can’t just ask things like that!” She ignored his scolding in favor of fighting for her food back

while the third off into the corner scoffed at the comment. “Why not? She’s another one just like Jaeger... and Annie.’’ He said, he seemed to be sulking but you weren’t sure why. However, you were interested in what he had to say, and he seemed to pick up on that. “Jean...” The one with the golden eyes warned. “She clearly wants to know Connie. And I doubt there's any harm in telling her about Annie, it’s been months.” Connie, Sasha, and Jean. Weeks ago, you remember Levi telling you about these three, they seemed close, always eating together at every meal. Just as Connie opened his mouth to protest you interjected. “If you don’t mind! Please, I keep hearing about her but I don’t know anything about it. What happened?” You asked, eyes darting between Connie and Jean. During the momentary silence Sasha finally managed to get her bread back from Connie and she scurried off to a table to eat in peace and listen to the story. Connie shrugged his shoulders before going to plop down in his seat next to Sasha, he laid his head onto his folded arms while he listened to Jean retell the events that took places months ago, not too long before you were found and taken into custody. “Months ago, just before you got here there was an abnormal titan chasing us through the woods during an expedition trying to take Eren. Well, long story short that titan was actually a girl named Annie and she was a part of the Military Police in the capital.” You gawked at the news, trying to understand the implications. “But how?” “Exactly! No one knew, we found out on accident about Eren, he didn’t even know he was a titan but that was back at our first mission. Annie seemed to know what she was doing, she’s a spy for someone. Any who-––” Jean continued recalling the story, how so many people died including all but one of Levi’s old squad. How Annie escaped but at this moment, they still weren’t aware that she was the titan. Erwin had growing suspicions, but his quick thinking helped them to realize that titan was lurking about in scout gear. He told you about how Armin created a plan to capture Annie but that it ended up costing a lot of civilian lives, but they learned a lot in the end despite it all. Your expression fell, and heavy weight landing on your shoulders. “I’m... I’m sorry for the loss. That’s terrible.” The room fell silent for a moment, you had long abandoned your chores in favor of giving the story your full attention but it left you disturbed and with plenty of questions running amuck in your mind. “Where is she now?” You asked innocently, looking between the three kids. Sasha opened her mouth getting ready to answer but just before she spoke Levi was stepping through the door. Sasha, Connie, and Jean simultaneously snapped to their feet and stood straight with their lips pursed shut for their Captain. “I don’t know that you lot were ever given permission to talk about that with her.” He said, his voice icy. Your heart dropped; you hadn’t meant to get them in trouble. You didn’t know it was anything classified. “I’m sorry, it was my fault for asking–-” “ Quiet .” He snapped. You stepped to the side so he could address his scouts without you in the way. Your heart was stuttering in your chest. You felt like you really messed up now. Not only were they getting scolding by Captain Levi, but with Annie’s story being classified now you look extremely suspect to him. Of course, luck would have it that he walked in just as you were asking where she was. His hands planted themselves on his hips, he sighed before she addressed the three brats. “Don’t let me catch any of you talking about that again. Got it?” The three scouts quickly nodded their heads in unison before chanting a ‘sir yes sir’ and placing their fist over their heart. Without another word they picked up their mops and brooms and got back to work. Levi’s eyes scanned towards yours, he didn’t have to say a word. You understood exactly what he was saying. “Don’t ask the scouts any questions.” “I’m sorry.” You whispered. With the tense relationship you had

with Levi, you never imagined you’d apologize to him about anything, but this, this was in regards to his trust in you. You did not want to tarnish the progress you made for anything. You feared, if Levi couldn’t trust you, nothing in your life would progress the way you wanted. He didn’t respond, instead he just walked out the room and after hesitating a moment you rushed after the man. “Wait, Levi.” You called after him, he stopped in his tracks before looking back over his shoulder to you waiting on you to continue. “I’m sorry about your loss. Your last squad...” You chose your words wisely, afraid to overstep, but you didn’t want him to leave without you giving your condolences. His eyes softened a moment before he turned himself forward. He took a moment to respond, taking time to remember his fallen comrades. “It comes with the job. Get back in there and finish cleaning. Silently .” He spoke, his voice was softer than usual, almost hushed to a whisper. You stayed staring at the back of his head a moment before doing as told, you turned back towards the doors to the canteen and stepped inside. Hearing the doors shut quietly behind you, Levi let a puff of air slip passed his parted lips. He rolled his head back to glance at the ceiling, or rather, toward the sky obscured by the ceiling. He thought of many people he lost over the years, in all this time only people who were like him gave a damn about their deaths. Only the scout regimen cared and even then, not everyone would console him, not that he was needing consolation in that moment. But... it was a pleasant surprise. In that moment, Levi was thankful to you. You gave him a moment of peace to remember his long-lost friends, he made a mental note to go a little softer on you for a few days. Just a few days.

#better with time.#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #long post #because it won't let me add a cut today

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

To Be Found

Working until midnight at their bakery doesn't usually have a lot of perks but Eskel wouldn't trade Jaskier crashing into his life during one such evening shift for anything...

A/N: just a chaotic lil origin story for an au that’ll only exist in oneshots bc i’m not organised enough for another proper wip-

Morhen Cares Bakery wasn’t particularly well-known.

In fact, as bakeries went, it was just about average and it stayed comfortably just about average until Jaskier came into the picture. Well, crashed into the picture.

Their bakery is usually open until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays because Vesemir insists on giving people who don't want to drink a place to spend the evening, even though Lambert very pointedly grumbles about him caring more for strangers than the nights out of his own children whenever he happens to be on the evening shift. Nonetheless, the lights in their bakery only go out when it hits midnight on those days, just like clockwork.

Unlike clockwork, the little bell above the entrance chimes frantically as the door swings open just before twelve on one such Friday that just so happens to be the incredibly busy Valentine’s eve, where everyone had decided they wanted to buy their crushes and loved ones baked goods for some reason.

“We’re closing,” Eskel calls tiredly.

“I only need your last minute!” someone whisper-yells, and Eskel frowns, glancing over the counter.

The man who’s currently gesturing at the clock with desperate hope doesn’t wait for him to reply before literally launching himself over the counter, then scrambling backwards so he’s as close to the counter as possible, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

Eskel only has time to frown before someone else peering through the window and bursting in, once again sending the little bell above their door into a frenzy. At the same time, the stranger on the floor clamps his hands over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Is he here?” the second stranger demands, icy malice in his voice.

Praying that he’s not making the wrong assumptions about who he’s meant to be supporting here, Eskel just folds his arms. “We’ve closed now. Unless you’re looking for me, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Eskel watches as the man’s eyes travel to his scars before he visibly grimaces, his upper lip curling in disdain, and shakes his head. “No, I doubt you could,” he mutters before leaving just as obnoxiously as he’d arrived.

The stranger curled up at his feet lets out a shaky exhale, distracting him from his brief flare-up of self-consciousness, and looks up at him with a gratitude so heavy, Eskel literally has to take a step back. He has no idea how the other man interprets that but he’s springing up and smiling before Eskel can think to apologise.

“Thank you. Gods, thank you for that,” he whispers.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eskel replies, then frowns at the way the other man seems to be swaying on his feet. “Are you alright?”

There’s a moment of silence before the man lets out a strained chuckle. “I’m very sorry but I think I’m going to pass out now.”

He thinks right.

Cursing, Eskel lunges forwards to catch him as his eyes flutter shut, twisting to one side as they both fall and landing in an awkward heap but thankfully managing to avoid head wounds for either of them. He has no idea what the protocol is for unconscious strangers at midnight but he can’t just leave the man there so, with a sigh, Eskel lifts him up with one hand under his knees and the other supporting his neck, carrying him into the office at the back.

He only really panics after he finishes closing everything up to find the stranger still lying on the couch, showing no signs of waking up but mercifully still breathing. The only bright side of the situation is that, ironically, he no longer feels tired himself.

“What happened?” Vesemir asks through the phone as soon as he picks up, having reached that point in life where he’s wise enough to know when something’s wrong without anyone having to tell him.

Eskel rubs the back of his neck as he glances back over to the stranger. “Uh, what are you meant to do when someone passes out for no apparent reason?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, wishing he’d at least said hello first, “but someone came in just as I was closing and now he’s lying in the office and I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are they others?”

“They left a little earlier, I said I’d lock up for today,” Eskel replies, and as much their whole family is prone to lying for each other, that’s actually the truth this time.

Vesemir starts saying something but Eskel is distracted by a soft groan behind him. As soon as he sees the stranger stirring, he sighs in relief. “Wait, he’s waking up. I’ll call you back if it’s anything serious.”

“Make sure he’s not in danger before you let him go,” Vesemir tells him, “and give him something to eat so he doesn’t pass out again.”

Eskel smiles at how fiercely Vesemir continues to just generally care and hangs up even as he’s saying his goodbye, walking over to the stranger and offering him a smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Not even slightly concussed,” the man replies as if he’s well-acquainted with waking up to concussions, which does absolutely nothing to soothe Eskel’s worries. After a second, he adds, “Thank you for your minute, by the way.”

Eskel raises an eyebrow. “It’s been a little longer than that.”

He means for it to be a joke but the stranger sits up with a guilty frown. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I just really needed a place to hide and I remembered Schro- uh, my friend telling me about this cute bakery that stays open really late and man am I glad I found you but I didn’t mean to ruin your plans, I’m so sorry! You probably had somewhere else to be by now and I totally just interrupted, I swear I’ll make it up to you and- oh hell, you don’t look very impressed, I’m going to go now!”

Or at least he tries to, only to stumble and fall into Eskel when his legs wobble.

Eskel blinks. “Maybe you should take it easy,” he suggests, gently but firmly guiding the other man so he’s sat back on the couch, perching next to him just in case he topples over for a third time.

“Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea,” the stranger mumbles, melting into the cushions as he curls his arms around his stomach.

“Are you hurt?” Eskel asks.

“No, I’m Jaskier,” the man, apparently Jaskier, retorts with a grin.

Eskel snorts, then remembers how worried he still is. “I don’t think having a particular name makes you exempt from injuries.”

He’s strangely pleased with the way Jaskier’s lips curve into a smile and the guilt in his eyes morphs into a sparkling amusement, but he’s also confused as to why he’s paying attention to those details when there are more pressing matters on hand.

“But really, are you hurt?” Eskel repeats.

Jaskier shakes his head, still smiling. “I’ve had far worse, I promise. Just some bruises that are definitely worth the chance to meet you.”

And because the night seems to be against him, he feels himself blushing.

“You are truly the stuff of sonnets,” Jaskier breathes. At that, Eskel scoffs; he’s well aware that he’s the least attractive member of the Morhen family and he really doesn’t need two strangers attempting to mock him in the same night.

“No no no, don’t do that. I promise I’m being honest, I swear on my mother’s grave!” Jaskier blurts, then claps a hand over his mouth. “Ignore that last part, my mother doesn’t even have a grave yet.”

Eskel is trying really hard not to laugh when Jaskier continues, “Amendment, I swear on all things Shakespeare that I am very definitely not pointing out how handsome you are in jest. Is that better?”

“Why Shakespeare?” Eskel asks, but in truth he’s already convinced.

Jaskier shrugs. “I’ve written several dissertations on his work and I can’t think of many other people I’ve suffered through countless sleepless nights for.”

Well, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. Eskel’s not entirely sure he trusts him just yet but well, Vesemir had instructed him to offer the stranger something to eat so he might as well make good on that promise if nothing else.

“Would you like a cookie? We probably have some leftovers and you seem like you could use one.”

Jaskier blinks, then beams at him. For about a second before his face falls and he deflates. “I don’t have any money.”

“Something to do with that guy chasing you?” Eskel asks quietly.

Jaskier nods. “Yup! Excellent deduction, Sherlock.”

“Who?” Eskel asks, frowning.

Jaskier makes a strange, screech-like noise of disbelief. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding. Oh come on, surely you’ve heard of the most famous fictional detective to ever exist?”

He really hasn’t. And it must show on his face because Jaskier sighs loudly, then points at him accusingly. “I am going to make you watch every Sherlock-related piece of media with me as my way of thanking you for all this and that is a promise.”

“It’s half past twelve,” Eskel points out, “and I have work in the morning.”

“Yeah, and? So do I,” Jaskier retorts, then scowls. “Although I’m pretty sure I’m about to be fired permanently this time.”

“I’m sorry,” Eskel offers.

Jaskier waves a hand. “It wasn’t worth any tears. It barely paid the bills and everyone there was so stiff, it was like being the only human on a planet of robots. Androids. Cyborgs? Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Eskel doesn’t think he does, his family is absolute chaos and he loves them for it. He can’t really fathom what kind of job Jaskier is about to lose but to be honest, he’d rather stay ignorant than work in any place like that.

“Is that offer for cookies still on? I’ve just been struck with the inevitable melancholy of being cast aside by yet another establishment,” Jaskier tells him theatrically, as if he’s auditioning for something.

“Of course,” Eskel assures him, which is why they find themselves in the kitchen a few minutes later.

Jaskier hops up onto the breakfast bar Geralt had made them install for Ciri’s sake and swings his legs back and forth as if he’s her age until Eskel gets out the batch of leftover cookies, laughing when Jaskier immediately reaches for them with what can only be dubbed as grabby-hands.

“Woah, these are phenomenal! What do you put in them, essence of unicorn?” Jaskier asks, his words a little muffled by the cookie in his mouth.

“We stick to the more acquirable vanilla essence, actually,” Eskel corrects, taking a bite of one the cookies too, only because he feels awkward just standing around watching someone else eat.

“Huh, didn’t take you for a strictly vanilla kind of guy,” Jaskier says casually, and Eskel promptly chokes on a chocolate chip.

He can see Jaskier nervously biting his lip as he recovers so, as smoothly as he can manage with a slightly croaky voice, he asks, “What kind of guy do you take me for then?”

Jaskier grins wider than should be humanly possible, leaning forwards so his elbows are resting on his knees and his chin is balanced on his palms. “You tell me.”

“Maybe another time, when I’m not afraid you’re going to collapse again at any moment,” Eskel practically mumbles, not sure where this spark of confidence is coming from but not exactly complaining because it’s actually pretty nice.

“Well, perhaps if you weren’t so handsome, I wouldn’t keep falling for you.” Jaskier has the audacity to wink, at which point Eskel gives up on the cookie altogether in fear of death by being flirted at whilst chewing.

Jaskier gasps before he can form a reply, apparently having caught sight of something behind him. “Look at that, it’s technically Valentine’s day! Oh, please tell me your shift ends earlier tomorrow? Or uh, today?”

Eskel blinks.

“Yeah, I’m here from noon to six, we never have the same people working the late shift both days for general health and safety reasons,” he replies, internally thanking whatever lucky stars he has for that calendar coincidence.

Jaskier looks about as excited as Eskel feels. “Well then, unless it’s a matter of life and death, you’d better cancel any plans you have after six!”

“Oh?” Eskel raises an eyebrow.

Apparently understanding that Eskel didn’t have any plans anyway, Jaskier smiles. “I’ll take that as your version of a yes.”

He slides off the breakfast bar with another blink and you miss it hiss of pain but straightens up before Eskel can question it, grinning. “So it’s a date! Well, I suppose it’s actually a time, but that doesn’t sound even nearly as romantic.”

“Both sound alright to me,” Eskel laughs.

“So you’re happy for it to be a date date?” Jaskier asks incredulously, but Eskel blames his tone on the fact that it’s nearly one am rather than someone who looks so adorable genuinely being surprised at anyone wanting to go on a date with him.

Either way, Eskel nods tentatively. “If that’s what you want?”

With the exact opposite energy, Jaskier nods so quickly that Eskel fears he’s going to give himself whiplash or something and grins again. “There is legitimately nothing I could possibly want more.”

Eskel snorts, gesturing to the other cookies to try and take the attention away from how warm his face is suddenly becoming. “You seemed pretty excited about those not long ago.”

Jaskier waves a hand dismissively. “Why settle for the creations when you have the handsome creator himself?”

Well, there’s no way he’s hiding the heat on his face anymore. Especially not after he meets Jaskier’s gaze and finds nothing but sincerity in his ridiculously bright eyes, not even the slightest hint of taunting at all.

“I should probably go,” Jaskier whispers eventually and if Eskel didn’t know better, he’d say he almost sounds sad.

A little thrown off, Eskel just nods. “Yeah, yeah, of course, it’s pretty late. Here, I’ll walk you out.”

Jaskier waits patiently enough as Eskel locks the kitchen up behind him and grabs his coat from the office, leading them both to the rear entrance and locking that door behind them too. It’s only once they’re outside that he realises Jaskier is only wearing a shirt and jeans which, no matter how inexplicably good he makes them look, aren’t exactly suited to travelling anywhere so late at night.

“Do you need a ride home or…?” Eskel offers.

But Jaskier just shakes his head. “No, I was headed to a friend’s place anyway, she doesn’t live far from here. Don’t worry, I won’t take up any more of your time right now. Though the same can’t be said for this evening.”

“I can’t wait,” Eskel admits honestly.

“Until six, my dear valentine!” Jaskier blows him a kiss before starting to walk away, practically sauntering into the darkness like he owns the night and turning a corner so not even the streetlights can keep him visible before Eskel remembers that he’s meant to keep breathing even when he’s by himself.

Maybe he’s finally found a reason to forgo cursing Cupid in favour of thanking him this year.

i wrote this whilst procrastinating so if you see any plot holes, no you don’t-

also, here’s the ongoing masterlist for this au if anyone happens to be reading and is interested :)

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

#jaskel #jaskier x eskel #the witcher #fanfiction #bakery au #modern au #eskel #jaskier #meet cute #more like meet-weird but hey #hurt jaskier #insecure eskel #protective eskel #chaotic jaskier #idk why i try explaining stuff with tags but i do be trying #hurt comfort #my writing #morhen cares au #tbf

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years

Text

[ Tanjiro Headcanons To Fuel The Fluff/Angst Tank ]

He Is Baby™ thank you very much and i love him with my whole heart

- hi hello i would like to share my thoughts on this baby cause i love him v much

- he gives me the vibe that he would def love anything strawberry related. like strawberry milk, strawberry shortcake, strawberry yogurt- the list goes ON

- he would eat them more often if they weren't so godamn expensive, and most of the time you can only find those kinds of products when in the city and he mostly travels through the woods rather than through heavily populated areas. he does get them when he can though, and usually has some stocked up when he and nezuko leave rural areas

- thats not the only fruit he likes though! hes also a huge fan of cherries but he gets those even less since they're even MORE expensive. he also very much likes mint chocolate chip icecream! something about the clash of dark chocolate and refreshing mint is just so good to him, and usually he’ll try to look for that specific flavor if theres any icecream places nearby. my basis for that?

- thankfully though he doesnt really buy things from others since he just gets most of his food from the surrounding forest. you see, tanjiro literally lived in the woodlands for most of his early life before the whole 'incident', so hes accustomed to being more of a hunter-gatherer when it comes to those sorts of things

- he knows a whole bunch of stuff about forest plants and topography for that reason specifically, and can make food out of pretty much nothing due to having to go through some rough winter times that required scavenging

- overall though hes a pretty good cook! his father and mother both liked to cook and bake and all that before they died, and, being eager to help and learn, he usually watched them when they did or asked to help with preparing the food

- he actually probably has a lot of domestic skills, now that i think about it. things like sewing up ripped clothing or repairing damaged items are almost muscle memory to him since he was raised to value what he had and not aimlessly spend his money due to his humble beginnings

- he’s actually more comfortable with simple things rather than lavish ones since thats what he grew up with. being a demon slayer means that he does get commissioned to do things sometimes or paid for it, but he usually gives most of his money to poeple who need it after spending some of what he has on more efficient and useful things like better fabric for clothes and repairs for things that he doesn't have the skill set to fix himself

- due to this humble attitude he has for things, he barely ever really treats himself to things he enjoys. he usually puts others before himself and thus forgets about his own needs, leading him to often deny taking care of himself if he deems to 'not have enough time' or 'not being important enough”

- usually forcing him to sit down and eat or at least take a moment to drink some tea can calm his nerves a ton, even if its only just for a second

- i'm pretty sure that his favorite drink is green tea (or strawberry milk), actually. its just so naturally calming and relaxing that he usually uses it as a staple for calming himself down or taking a breather from the stressful life he's lead so far

- for someone that barely takes care of himself hes awfully adamant about others taking acare of themselves. oh, you haven't slept in three days because of work? guess what you're going to sleep right now. no, dont Mention how he keeps moving even though he should be in bed because of a broken rib, your needs come first now go to sleep

- deeefinitely the mom friend type in more ways then one. its p obvious that he already takes care of Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke as good friends of his, but hes kinda adamant on taking care of them almost like they're younger than him or something. this doesnt mean that they can’t take care of themselves of course, he just kinda feels the natural instinct to protect people he values if he can (mainly due to the fear that he’ll suddenly loose them without making it clear he cares about them first but we will unpack that suitcase LATER in the list)

-for that reason i can safely say that he's probably fantastic with kids because of his gentle nature. hes just so soft and pure that children naturally feel calm around him? its weird how like a baby will literally stop crying in a city full of people just because they saw tanjiro wave and smile at them and as SOON as hes out of eyesight they start crying again. also tanjiro holding a baby? you CANNOT tell me this man wouldnt softly sing some lullaby he remembers from his childhood to a child cradled in his arms, fast asleep. and the smile he gives to the person who finds him like that is BLINDING i cannot comprehend the purity-

-the EXACT same thing goes for animals. its straight up canon that he understands (to an extent) what birds are saying when they're chirping to one another, so its probably safe to assume that he might understand a little bit of what other animals may be saying when they communicate

- yet another effect of living in the forest most of his life and being way too observant at his age :p

- when dogs bark he responds to them out of instinct, knowing what they mean. when some pig just randomly snorts at him don't be surprised when he just says "oh, thank you!" in the most earnest tone possible because he probably knows what the animal said and is responding to it honestly. answering like he's pretending to know what it means would be dishonest, and thats too out of character for the sunshine boy

-its also gotta be mentioned that tanjiro physically rejects the concept of being dishonest. i swear to god I'm not making this up- when hes lying its so easy to tell because his face is physically rejecting the concept that hes not being sincere

-this goes for pretty much anything- he cant really blatantly lie without shifting in place or making a weird expression. its no expection that when asked about his feelings that he can barely keep a straight face by saying that he's "okay"

-theres just so much pent up grief and sorrow for so many things that its hard to really say that he's "just fine" or "alright" some days. the accumulation of trauma and guilt has lead up to this constant dread boiling in the pit of his stomach that he'll fail one day, and this would've been all for nothing

-he'll die one day without his goals being met, without Nezuko being healed, without his friends safe, without so many things that he thought he could fix that will eat him up until he fixes them. he doesn't have frequent depressive episodes all that often anymore since Sakonji helped him with that (kind of, it was kind of a group effort by his other superiors, the Pillars, too with some reassurance and advice since a good portion have Been There Done That with the survivor’s guilt and the like) in terms of teaching him how to meditate more frequently and search for positive outlets for his negative feelings. he helped him accept that it was okay to feel bad about it, but he couldn't give up, no matter what. because “What worth was your dream if you just gave up in the end?”

-and so he doesn't. he never gives up, on anything. he refuses to give up when his friends are in danger and the odds are against him, or when hes face to face with an eldritch demon who's been alive longer than the numbers he can count. tanjiro is incredibly persistent in his efforts, big or small, and makes a conscious decision every time to not abandon what he worked for because the phrase "What worth was your dream if you just gave up in the end?" motivates him to be better than who he was yesterday and try his best to reach his dreams

- because of this he's a heavy believer that most people can change. i say most because I'm pretty sure he knows Muzan will never change, or some of the other terrible people in the world. he's accepted over time that he can’t help everyone, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest in figuring ot if they are truly, genuinely, capable of being better. so he's incredibly supportive of people who actually do make efforts to improve themselves because he knows how hard it is to come from such a bad situation/bad mindset and reteach good values and habits

- that doesn't mean that poeple are expempt from their punishments of course- everyone deserves the consequences of their actions to be better to know what to improve on, but he has sympathy for the poeple who's consequences stop their lives short (example, countless demons that he feels terrible for because they came from really bad situations)

-since he knows how hard it is to improve on anything- he’s very very supportive to people who do that for themselves or for others. in fact, he would go out of his way for about anyone to make their life a little better but if he sees someone struggling their way to their personal best he'll happily be a help to them in any way that they can. oh, you were training really hard today and had no success in perfecting a certain technique? its alright, you can just lay down right now while he fixes your bath water and tomorrow he'll help you out with it in any way he can. hes the best cheerleader!

-overall tanjiro is very sweet and kind, even though he has personal problems with his own demons and feeling as if he's a burden most of the time. for all this suffering, he views the prosperity of the people around him worth it and is selfless to the end of the line for those whom he cares about

[ ~Thank You For Reading!~ ]

#tanjiro #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro headcanon #tanjiro headcanons #tanjiro imagine #tanjiro imagines #demon slayer #demon slayer tanjiro #demon slayer headcanon #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer imagines #kimetsu no yaiba #KNY #kny headcanon #kny headcanons #kny imagine #kny imagines #water breathing

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outcast-thingz · 4 years

Text

Hello my lovelies! I am here today with more content for you🥰 Honestly I cried while writing this this was suppose to be am angst to fluff but it's mostly angst, I'm sorry. Another note, I'm on the road starting today so this may have grammatical errors. When we stop at a hotel tonight I'll fix that.(title may change...)

Request:Could I request something angsts and fluffy for Benimaru from fire force? I’m sorry I can’t give anymore detail- my mind is literally blank 😬😂

Pairing: Reader x Benimaru

Summary: You found out your younger brother is turning innocent people into infernos and use them as his army. It seems all your worst fears are coming true as you run to your closest friend and love your life for help. Can Benimaru ever forgive you for not seeing the true nature of your brother?

Warnings: ANGST... intrusive thoughts, fluff if you really squint

Forgive Me

Once again you find yourself arguing with your younger brother. The same old song and dance since you found out what he had been occupying his time with behind your back. He seemed more agitated today.

"You're just too naive to understand Y/n. This is for the greater good of science, of the world!!" He exclaims whilst pacing in front of his 'throne '.

"Killing innocents by turning them into infernos and trying to use them as your puppets!? You call THAT 'For the greater good'? What about all those people you sacrificed, HUH?!?" You cried with shaking clenched fists. Your brother shoots you an icey spine chilling glare which you mirror right back at him. "Those people are innocent! You ruined their life's for your personal entertainment!!! You're a horrible person, you're a mon-" in a blink of an eye you brother is behind you. You can feel the edge of his knife pressing hard against you throat; it was almost enough to draw blood.

"Finish that word and I'll make sure it's your last." He snarled. Heavy, blood-thirsty breaths blow past your ear as he spoke, "Everyone has their sins, Y/n, even the most innocent ones. Think of it as a final repent for all the wrong and evil they have done. We all have to pay for our deeds one day; I'm just being a good Samaritan and helping. Keep of this act of yours and you'll be next." Having finally had enough of this you grab a hold of his wrist and pull it away from your neck. You maneuvers the situation around so you're pinning his wrist behind his back and holding his dagger to his throat. He waits patiently knowing you'll give up. You huff and whisper angrily

"you're sick!" You chuck the dagger at the ground and storm off. As you leave you could hear his chuckle gradually turn into maniacal and hysterical laughter.

The wall to town was hardly quiet. The closer you came to town the louder the world seemed to be. His haunting laugh echoed as the intrusive thoughts that crowded you mind grew louder. They started low but now it was as if they were screaming.

'You let him slip through you fingers'

'You failed to notice what your little brother truly was and now the world will suffer because you!'

'What? Now you're going to run away? Run to HIM? Are you going to tattle on your own flesh and blood?'

'You don't think you're actually doing the right thing do you? Sell out your little brother to a fire force soldier? Oh that's right you don't love your sibling he's just monster to you.'

'What makes you think Benimaru is going to love you after you tell him the truth?'

'He'll think you're brother is a monster and you are too by connection'

'You're a monster'

'He'll try to exterminate your brother and fail then world will suffer and it will be all your fault'

'You're a monster, it's all your fault'

'Its all your fault, it's all your fault, it's all your fault'

'Monster'

'IT'S'

'ALL'

'YOUR'

'FAULT!'

"ShuuuuuUUUUUUT UUUUUPPP!" You scream as you clutch your head. You scratch your scalp as you grip your hair. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT! UP!" You shake your head as you cry out.

A pair of screams pull you out of your head. You weren't aware that surrounding you was total mayhem and destruction, let alone that you had made it into town. Inferno were everywhere you looked.

'What.. what's going on?' Your eyes widen and start to tear up.

'Oh don't play dumb, you know who's behind this' the sinister thought surprised you.

"Y/NNNNN" A familiar voice calls out, no, bellows out. You just barely feel the wind blowing past your as a flaming spear skims past your cheek.

"B-Beni?" You hesitate in disbelief of the sight before you. Was the man you love axtuslly barreling towards you with ill intent? Having to dodge another flaming spear and being hit in the shoulder by a second on brought forth the harsh reality. Your heart twists and turns creating knots as you clutch your shoulder. Benimaru, the love of your life, lands a few feet ahead of you.

"How could you do this? I thought you wanted a better world for your brother!? Is this seriously how you thought you were going to get it?" He tells. The dust from his landing settles as he interrogates you. You can see tears roll down his cheeks, "Y/n... I have a hard time believing you did this. Tell me- ...tell me it isn't true." The wavering tone of his voice causes a hitch in your breath and a twang of pain to hit your heart.

"I-I-" before you could explain an inferno busts through a building beside Beni. You sprint to push him out of the way of the debris. As you make your way to him you grab some nearby rubble and chuck it at the raging inferno. You chuck it as hard and with as much fire power as you could in those few seconds.

You cough harshly as pain races throughout your body. The pain didn't matter to you, what matters is you saved Benimaru. After getting back up he scrambles by your side. He sends a few spears into the inferno finishing it off.

"Y/n! Hey, look at me. This isn't the time or place to be snoozing." He pats the side of your face and your eyes flutter open.

"Beni… I know auh.. I know we aren't amazing close as friends but I love you. I have for a while I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same heh heh, augh…" you admit grunting from the pain occasionally. "You have to believe I would never want harm to come to you or this town. But this is my fault. Augh-" your confession is interrupted by sudden coughs. "I-.. I wasn't a good enough older sibbling. I had no idea he was capable of something like this ack- I promise, if you give me a chance I'll be good. I'll work to be better and change him, I promise Beni. Please just let me talk to him. I promise I'll help make him better, ill be good. I'll be good… I'll... be.. good." A heavy weight hits your eyes as you cry your confession and plea. Although it's fuzzy and just barely a whisper, you still manage to hear him,

"I believe you Y/n. Rest, I'll take care of your little brother."

*four days later*

You had woken two days after passing out. Konro breached the news of your brother passing away during a battle against a few fire soldiers and Beni who tried to intervene when he found them. Benimaru has yet to visit you while you are recovering. You feared those awful thoughts of yours were right; that because he knows the truth he hates you. Desperately wanting to focus on something happy you convince the medics to allow you a walk. A calming stream beside you as you remember all the times you spent there with Benimaru. The few laughs you had together, and practices you begged for to better your fire power and fighting skills. You smiled watching the ghost of a memory play out before you.

"I thought I would find you here…" Bittersweet was the feeling that hit you when your heard his voice. "I'm sorry I didn't visit.. I was too ashamed to face you after failing to take care of you brother…" he confesses. You stop walking but don't dare look at him, How could you? He lets out a deep breath before speaking again, "I know that I hurt you. I know that nothing I can say will change the past. But…I’m hoping that you’ll forgive me in the end. I’m hoping that I can make this right." Tears quickly swell up in your eyes. You spin around and make eye contact with him. After a few seconds you couldn't bare it any longer and you run at him with your arms outstretched. The two of you tumble to the ground with your arms wrapped tightly around him.

"I forgive you, just please don't leave me... I can't loose both things I love." You pleaded as he sat up. He cradles you into his arms as you sob. Slowly you cry your self to sleep with you face buried in his chest. Beni places a gentle kiss on your forehead and whispers,

"I won't… I love you Y/n"

~The End~

Taglist: @oof-she-needs-therapy @red-riot-rat @xsugarysweetsx

(Hope you don't mind me tagging you)

#fire force request #fire force x reader #benimaru shinmon #benimaru x reader #angst #i cried writing this

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits Ch 7 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter VII ~ Old Habits Die Hard.

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

Word Count : 4K

Warnings : Angst. Oh, and nsfw. smut. 18+.

Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

A/N : Welcome to chapter 7! This ones kinda heavy, but so important because we finally kinda get a look into both their minds. I hope you enjoy! 🖤 Also, you might want to punch them both in the face after reading this and that is totally valid.

Ch.6 Recap : Keanu and Y/N enjoy a wonderful night, waking up together nice and close, sharing snuggles. However, an argument ensues about their relationship, when Keanu proposes the idea of making a public appearance together. He leaves, leaving them both disappointed.

It’s true what they say about suffering.

Merely the minds refusal to accept reality.

As he sits alone at the bar, Keanu wonders to himself, if that’s what it really was. This illusion, of emission, affection, companionship, if it was all just a well fledged, textbook recipe for

Suffering.

He sips his drink, an ambers dewy glow, the aged whiskey lets him dial down the volume of his thoughts. He swirls it in his glass, the clink of the cubes, dwelling on the flavour as it hits his tongue. He holds it still for a moment, letting the burn perverse. The deep, rummaging burn, a relief in its own right.

Maybe that’s all he deserved.

Burn.

The bar is filled with people, some young, some old. The diversity is nice, allows him to sink into the sea of faces, in a world where all he wanted, in this moment, was to erase away to his own anguish.

Just when he’d feel that maybe, just maybe with Y/N, things could be different, he’d be reminded the next second,

that they couldn’t.

Anytime he felt, for the slightest moment, that maybe, she could be something more, they could be something more, she’d reject. The leaving all so sudden a week before, the disappearing for days on end right when they’d start to get close, this morning; the way she’d finally mustered it out, her feelings towards their label. It was clear, transparent as could be, Y/N didn’t feel what he did. Whatever it is; these feelings that he felt.

He’d dreamed of a lot. He’d dreamed endless, of what his life would be. A sufficient car by 20, a worthwhile career by 25, a loving wife by 30, lovely children of his own by 35. A home. He’d dreamed of building a home.

He was grateful, there’s no denying it. He’d been fortunate enough to be gifted all the things he needed, a career he would thank the sky for each day, where he’d been able to showcase his passion for his craft. He’d earned all the material things. He had more than enough, more than he’d ever need to be happy.

But he didn’t have what he perhaps wanted more, than all the superficial. That void, the companionship he wanted, never filled. Vacant, hallow, a part of him he might never fill.

Perhaps that’s why he felt the way he did, with Y/N. She’d been filling the void. The need for companionship, trust, intimacy, the need for connection. She’d made him feel not alone, in the endless crowds of people, everyone who seemed so happy, so content, as if mocking him each step.

She understood him, in a way no other had before. She got how it feels, to be alone. Perhaps, because she was too. She’d been a dire reflection of him, mirroring his tepid, half sheltered heart. The heart that longs, for so much more.

Was he…taking advantage of her? Is this, what they’d call toxicity? Two individuals, trapped in the same web of their pitiful selves, embodying the consecrate of unfulfilledness?

How good would it be, if she’d felt the same? If she’d wanted him in more, in the way he wanted her? As the time passed, the days turned to nights, the tick bestowing further, the time spending away, not making either of them younger, Keanu felt. He felt, that maybe, she was what he needed.

But not in the way he had her now, not in this way at all. He wanted more of her; separate from her physical form, the connection, the trust, the intimacy, but wrapped in the blameless bow of something more,

love.

In sickness and health, till death do apart. That mundane, esteemed, distinguished form of what they’d been craving; intimacy.

But she didn’t want it. She wanted what they had already established. A dependent relationship of physical euphoria. A temporary relief from their busy lives. A sex based affiliation. He couldn’t blame her, it’s what he’d agreed to as well. And now, they were too far gone to perhaps ever make more of it.

This is what she wants. This is what makes her happy. So he’d keep it that way, because her contentment, is invaluable.

Even if it means, for him,

to suffer.

He’d been swept away in the cognitions of his mind, trapped wallowing in his own desolation, an endless stream of what could be, when the seat beside him occupies. A woman, younger than him by far, erogenous, the scent of malted liqueur stippling her skin. Her luscious locks rest on her exposed shoulders, her dress suggestively low cut, leaving little to the mind’s curiosity.

She leans in further, resting her arms on the bar counter, closer to Keanu than he would have liked. In a moment too soon, her sultry voice proceeds.

“What’s a hunk like you doing here alone?”

He cautiously pulls away slight, enough to keep a feasible distance. Her gaze shrieked thirst, and she wanted it quenched, by him.

“Just having a drink before heading home, thank you.” Keanu nods, turning his head to face forward. This, was not what he wanted. Not right now.

She lowers her gaze to his dark swept jeans, biting her lip, stifling. With her touch piercing, she grazes her index finger to his thigh, suggestive.

“And how is a mere drink, supposed to satisfy a man like you?” She peeves. “How about we get another order of drinks, huh?” She purses, her eyes practically stripping him whole. “Can I get two Manhattans on bar, please?” She gestures.

“I’m alright, thank you, miss.” Keanu replies, short, voice thick with disinterest. He turns away again, attempting to mind his own business, when she touches his forearm.

“Please, don’t call me ‘miss’.” Leaning in close, her breath traces his ear as she speaks. “Unless you want me to call you sir…”

He pulls back, ready to leave the barstool, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Sighing, he pulls it out to see her name flash the screen. Y/N.

“Excuse me.” Keanu tells the lady, taking the call, as the lady glances the name cross his screen. “Hello?” He answers.

“Hey,” Y/N’s silken voice chimes on the other end. There’s a drop of nervousness laced in her tone, although he can’t quite seem to pinpoint it.

“Hey.” He replies, trying his best not to come off too dejected.

“What’s up?” She asks, the line flat quiet on the other side. She must be alone.

“Nothing, just having a drink.”

“Oh…” Y/N glums. He swore there was disappointment on her lips. “That’s cool. Whiskey neat?” She smiles on the other end.

“On the rocks today.” He chuckles quiet. She remembered little things like that about him, his likes and dislikes, preferences. She’d come to know him quiet well over the years.

“Ahh, I see. It’s that kinda day.” The line falls silent on the other end. Normally, Keanu would be delighted to speak with her, their conversations never dying down, never awkward. But after this mornings outburst, he didn’t understand why she’d dialed him so soon. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He hears an audible sigh on the other end, before she starts. “Listen, Ke. I just wanted to check in and make sure we’re okay. I know I came off a bit harsh this morning, and I was a bit out of line, I admit. You know that I appreciate you, right?”

“Yeah.” His deep voice barely speaks.

“You know you’re important to me. Really important. I’m sorry, I had no right to speak to you how I did. I understand you were just making a friendly gesture and I know our relationship is really unique, but I love that it works for us. And I just please, need to hear that you’re not upset or offended.” She sighs. “I wanted to thank you for coming over last night, and staying with me. I really needed a friend yesterday. And I’m sorry that we left on a sour note this morning.” She quietly chuckles, probably rolling her eyes at herself on the other end. She did that a lot, it was one of her most lovable quirks. “I don’t know where the sudden mood change came from, I must be PMSing or something.”

Keanu’s eyes glance down for a moment, happy to hear her voice, yet the feeling of melancholy never quite leaves his being. Y/N had apologized, but she hadn’t retracted any of her statement. It went to prove, that everything she said, is how she must have truly felt.

She didn’t want to be more. She didn’t want him the way he had begun to want her. And she perhaps, never will.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t even have to call.” Keanu replies, swirling the amber liquor in his glass.

“No, Keanu, I did. I was out of line. I didn’t want you to be upset with me.”

He lets a small grin creep his lips. “You know I can’t be upset with you, Y/N.” Despite their reconciliation, his dusty, chocolate orbs never quite mirror the small smile his lips pursue.

She giggles, her voice honeyed, a breath of fresh air from the suffocation around him. “Well, I would have loved to spend all day with you today. I know it’s evening now, but if you’re free…” She paused brief. “We could, get together? Have a meal? I could also use some us time later if you want…”

His eyes glance down, an small exhale emitting his lips. Things were back to normal.

But was that what he even wanted?

“That sounds great. I’m just heading home, meet me there?” He asks.

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Alright.” He speaks.

He decides. He’d rather have her, than not have her at all. Even if it was on her terms, the way she wanted, their relationship however she preferred. He needed her in his life in some form.

Even if it was just dinner,

and a fuck.

Sighing, he palms his wallet in his jeans, ready to head out, as the woman grabs his arm again, before he can set the phone back into his pocket.

“Listen,”she drips. “You’re hot, I’m hot. The night is still young…” Fiddling his sleeve, she draws in closer. “Just a one-night thing, yeah?”

Keanu asserts his features, annoyance now apparent. Pushing her hand away, he speaks, firm. “Miss, please.” He straightens his shirt out, standing. “I have a girlfriend.” The lady frowns, rolling her eyes. “That Y/N you just spoke to?”

Standing, he throws his leather jacket on, reaching for his keys. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.” Throwing his due on the bar counter, as well as a generous tip, Keanu leaves, trying his best to focus on nothing more, than seeing his Y/N soon.

If, he could even call her that.

He didn’t even think he could dream of being with another woman, besides Y/N, now. He’d tasted the best, the purest form of nirvana.There was no going back now.

Little to his knowledge, a shocked Y/N listens on the other end of the call still, the phone held in tight grip to her ear, shaken at the words he’d just spoke. She wasn’t sure if she should be glad, that he’d forgot to hang up, or disappointed.

Had he just called her his girlfriend?

They’d arranged a date. She’d initiated it. She’d have to go through with it now, especially after what she’d done this morning. Even if her feelings had got the best of her, from what she’d heard.

Why had he called her his girlfriend? Was she just an excuse now? A weapon for him to flaunt?

She’d be lying if she hadn’t dreamt of it being that way. How they could be, how their relationship would be she were his girlfriend. She’d take him any day, but not this way. Not when he didn’t feel the same.

The rain falls, peppering his front yard. Each leaf glosses, she watches it globe while she waits for him at the door. The pools flood, leaving small puddles speckled along the yard. This darn rain.

Was it ever going to stop?

In a moment, Keanu glides the bulky doorframe open, closing the gate behind her with the switch of a button. “Hey,” He smiles, pulling her in for hug. He seemed happy to see her.

“Hi.” She quietly replies, wrapping her arms around his neck for a brief hug.

“Everything alright?” He asks, letting her go as they walk into the kitchen. He’s got the window cracked slightly ajar, the sound of the drumming rain apparent on their ears. In the center of the granite countertop, the slow glow of a candle waves. She focuses on it, collecting her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

Moving towards her, his deep voice empathizes. “Doesn’t seem like it.” As he sets himself down on the kitchen counter stool, he pats the vacant seat beside him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He soothes a rub to her arm.

“Yeah.” Taking place beside him, she rubs her temples, not sure how to start on the subject. Keanu looked happier than she’d seen him last. It had hurt her so, so bad to make him feel the way he did earlier that morning, the expression of hurt on his face, the sorrow, it killed her. She didn’t want it to return, as she sat beside him now.

But it had to be spoken about. She’d heard what she had on the phone, and she needed an explanation. For her own sanity.

And maybe, just maybe, this, could be the spark of a conversation. The spark of this relationship, becoming something new.

Cautiously, she lets out a heavy exhale, finally connecting their eyes. Encouragingly, Keanu’s hand finds hers as he holds it, assuring her that her thoughts and feelings, would always be safe with him.

“Keanu…I…”

His fingers lace with hers, assuring her with a soft hold. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she speaks. “You left your phone on after our call. I overheard you talking to some, woman?”

His expression falls, stoic, eyes glancing down as his hand lets go of hers.

The assurance. Gone.

“And…you said I was your girlfriend. Me, Y/N. I just-”

Before she can finish, he cuts her off. “Y/N, that woman was trying to get me to take her home. I needed an escape, and you were the last girl on my mind, so I ended up using your name. It meant nothing more. I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Y/N’s expressions go flat as well, and she can’t help the dissatisfaction coating her look. She thinks to herself, of course, he didn’t actually feel the same as her. He was merely using her name, because it was the first to pop into his mind at the time.

She wasn’t special. She cursed herself for evening letting the thought sneak her mind.

“Oh…alright.” Y/N fixes her smile, trying her best to shine it his way. Only this time, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, either. “Just making sure.” She quietly laughs, trying her best to keep her blues hidden.

Keanu pulls back cautiously, moving in his seat to give her space. “Right. I mean we could never...you know. We’re not in that place.” He guardedly speaks, running a hand through his hair. Keanu had said those words, only to keep things the way she wanted.

This is what she wants to hear. She doesn’t want more, Keanu. He thinks to himself. Don’t fuck it up again.

“Right. Not in that place.” Y/N nods, compliant. It’s a different story, that those words pierced through her skin, through the reveries of her heart. He’d never be in that place with her.

It’s time she accepted it.

“Dinner then?” Keanu asks. “I’m starving.”

“Sure.” She giggles, allowing the feelings flooding her mind to keep at bay, for now.

Dinner went by, although the tones different than they normally were. Conversation had been a little more awkward, a little more forced. It seemed as if, the events of today had trapped them in their own cageful minds, their true selves never being awarded the freedom they’d once relished in.

They both felt it; there was no denying it. Things were different now, after today. Both their feelings, hidden, confined away, imprisoned in the depths of their cognizance. They clawed to be free. Yet neither of them would dream of allowing it that way.

Not at the risk, of losing one another.

They say old habits die hard.

They say, you should respect yourself to walk away.

To end the suffer, if it’s not pushing you to what you need.

But old habits, they do die hard.

Especially, when they’re laced with fear. Fear of losing what you want most.

Late into the night, after dinner and half executed attempts to carry conversation, here you were, again. In the quiet of his bedroom, you’d found yourself, legs wrapped around Keanu’s waist, grasping his shoulders as he slips a condom for protection on himself. In anticipation, you watch his hands move, eager to feel him close.

Something you hadn’t felt, all day. In more ways than just one.

Studying his features, you see him tense, he’s not his normal, lively self. Perhaps you’d been the same, the natural frown that you so badly wanted removed would not budge off your lips. He positions himself, nestled between your legs spread open for him in the darkness of his bedroom. The moonlight filtering in allows him to catch glimpse of your face. Your beautiful face, which he wished he could kiss so tenderly, so affectionately.

All of you, which he so desperately craved to be his. In a way greater than this. But that wasn’t possible, so for now, this would suffice.

This physical bond would suffice.

“Ready?” His deep voice rummages, hands planting firm to your hips. You nod your head, biting your lip. With one steady thrust, he sinks into you deep, pausing briefly to allow you to adjust. Within seconds, he begins rocking, rotating his hips skillfully, setting a rather brutal pace. A moan slips your lips into the dark of the bedroom, his grip on your waist tightening as he pounds into you.

To the sound of the bedframe creaking, the headboard hitting the wall behind, your thoughts race a mile a minute. Today is different. The sex, isn’t the same.

Normally, Keanu appreciates each inch of you, you communicate with each other, compliment each other, yet today, proves a dire contrast. You lay beneath him, taking him as he drives into you. His pace is faster today, as if he’s trying to get it over with. His hands hold tight to your body, as one spare moves to cup your breast, his girthy cock reaching the deepest part of you, hitting your edge each time. His eyes focus on your bountiful breasts, bouncing perfectly to his rhythm, your nipples hardening as he fondles them, cupping as he pleases.

You let out an ear-splitting moan, after trying your best to keep them in tonight. The mood was different; you weren’t even sure if you should be moaning. But regardless, Keanu is fucking you so well, so good, you find it practically impossible to hold off, your face turning red as a result. Your fingernails dig into his back, watching his thrusts become frantic, you feel yourself weakening.

You watch his eyes clasp tight shut, small, ragged gasps leaving his lips in breathy exhales. He grunts, pushing into you. Feeling him twitch inside you, you know he’s close. You feel your skin becoming flushed, trickles of sweat peppering your forehead at the way he’s undoing you so well, his throbbing cock jammed deep inside your clenched cunt, whole, you can feel yourself dripping each time he pulls out, only to slam back in.

The sounds your making only turn you on more, your drenched wetness slick on his cock, the sounds your cunt makes send shivers down his spine, and he shudders knowing he wont last long. Wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, you try your best to pull him as close as possible, urging to feel the most friction to your sore, aching center.

With a particularly deep, harsh thrust, you come all over his cock, your orgasm taking you whole, sending piercing shocks through your mind. Your thoughts haze, the only feeling you feel is the oblivion he’s spilled you into. Within a few rockier thrusts, you feel Keanu spill his creamy load deep inside you, his cock still throbbing, his lips let out a loud moan, his palms digging into your hips. Your bodies jolt from the aftershocks, coming down from your highs.

He sighs, letting heavy breaths fall from his lips as he pulls out, leaving your cunt pulsating, he falls beside you on the bed, keeping a slight distance. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes, but they do.

They inevitably do.

Just this morning, you’d woken up in his arms, holding him close, as he held you. Now, into the late of the night, you’d just had sex with him, except it had been completely different.

This, wasn’t the type of sex you normally had. This was toxic sex. The type of sex you have, when you want to feel something so, so bad, when nothing else fills that void.

Pulling the duvet up higher to your chest, you attempt to cover yourself as you turn to your side. He lays still, staring up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling. It felt good in the moment, for him, it always felt good when it was you. But now, as the euphoria of release has left, he feels guilt. Immense guilt, for ever allowing it to become this way.

How did they ever let it end up this way?

They wonder to themselves, in the quietude of their own minds. Not a word spoken the entire session, not during, not after.

Dead beat, dreadful, excruciating silence.

Into the dark of the night, he hears Y/N speak. “I should go.” Keanu sits up, looking her way as she pulls herself up, eyes scanning for her shirt.

“It’s late, Y/N.” He debates, reaching out to touch her. She doesn’t mean to, but she flinches slightly at his touch.

“Yeah, it’s alright. I’ll make it.” She says. He reaches over, down the bedside to grab her shirt, giving it to her as she wearily covers her chest from him.

They’d never been this distant before.

“Y/N, please, I don’t like the idea of you leaving this late. At least let me drive you?”

As she slips on her bra and panties, back facing him still, she tries her best to keep her tears at bay. She couldn’t let him see the pain in her eyes. This was her fault, she thought. Her feelings. This is what she had signed up for. She had no right to feel the way she did.

“No, it’s alright.” She speaks, as he follows her out the bedroom to the front door. Keanu had managed to only slip on a pair of boxers and a worn out t-shirt in the process, practically chasing after her. His chest falls heavy, knowing that there’s tension. Whatever caused the tension, he doesn’t know. All he knows, is the women he feels for, is leaving.

And she’s not feeling good. He can tell.

“Y/N, please. Did I do something?” He asks frowning, touching her shoulder. She finally turns, and he sees her eyes red.

“No, no. I just have an earlier morning tomorrow and need to get home.” Giving a small smile his way, she assures him, trying her best to pretend that all was alright. “I’ll talk to you later.”

As she attempts to walk out, closing the door behind her, Keanu follows her out the door, walking her to her car. It unsettles him deep to allow her to drive home, alone, in the night at 11:00pm. LA can be distressingly unsafe. He often found himself worrying when she’d drive around late at night, in her barely efficient car.

To the snarl of the car engine, she pulls her window down, assuring him one last time. “I’ll be alright. You get some rest.”

Keanu nods, the frown never leaving his lips. “Please, please call me when you’re home, or at least send a text. Please don’t forget.” He says quietly. With a nod, she pulls up her window, giving him a small wave as she pulls out of the driveway.

As he watches her reverse, pulling onto the empty LA street in front of his home, he kicks himself for not stopping her stronger. He should have forced her to stay. Kept her safe. Her eyes were red, she was upset, there was no denying it.

But why? What could he have possibly done, now? When all he’d been trying to do all night, was keep things the way she wanted? Strictly physical, no “extra” stuff in-between, as she’d referred to it?

With his gaze set on the scene around, he ponders to himself, stuck dead in his tracks, unable to move. In the lifeless of the night, he feels the rain peer in again, tiny drops of fresh water spattering, doting, speckling his exposed skin. It only gets harder, as the gloomy, shadowed gray clouds drift in further, the rummage of thunder in the sky louder by the second. Around him, he smells the scent of fresh rainfall, the dewy, water frosted grass glossing in the moonlight.

This darn rain.

Was it ever going to stop?

>>Chapter 8>>

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#keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves oneshot #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves ff #keanu reeves fluff #keanu reeves angst #keanu reeves au #keanu reeves #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves series #keanu reeves story #my writing

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immortalcoelacanth · 3 years

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Dream SMP and Gris Crossover: Rain and Blue (Me and You!)

And on today's episode of "random crossovers that no one asked for" I bring you....

A Gris and Dream SMP crossover! Because I have no self control and the theme of blue, loss, and grief fits perfectly for Ghostbur and Gris! Also for those of you who haven't played the game, I would highly recommend it. It's a lovely experience, brought me to tears a couple times, and both the music and art style are fantastic!

Word count: 3551

Summary: Alone in the torrential downpour that blankets a previously green forest, a girl finds a sheep, and a kindred soul.

The forest floor was wet, saturated with rain as she ran from tree to tree, seeking cover after her latest battle with the shadows that haunted her. She felt drained, weighed down by both her grief and her soggy dress, yet in a way she felt lighter than she had before.

Buoyant, perhaps, but she was still long overdue for a proper break.

She had no idea how long she had been running for, from the desolate wasteland filled with white space, to the desert plagued by sandstorms that sent one flying unless they found shelter. At least this forest was far more peaceful than the previous places she had been to. The blocky creatures living here were helpful, despite their shy nature.

Unbidden, a soft smile appeared on her face as she thought back to her new friend. She hoped they were alright and avoided the ponds and lakes that were now being formed thanks to the rain. The last thing she wanted was for them to suffer because of her actions. Hopefully, the rain would stop before the flooding grew too severe…

Arms wrapped around her as she continued trudging through the forest, occasionally pausing under a tree for a short break before she continued her journey. Exhaustion was catching up to her now, her previous sprints replaced with walking as she struggled to conserve her energy. She had no clue where exactly to go next, all she had was the lingering thought to leave the forest, but from there she was uncertain. How much longer would she need to keep going for? How much further would she have to travel?

These thoughts brought down her content mood, sorrow crashing into her as her head dropped. Would her journey ever end, and if it did then what would that end bring? Would the shadows get to her before she reached it?

… Was there even a point in moving forward if her only reward for all her hard work was failure?

However, before her thoughts could drag her down further, a strangely familiar noise caught her attention, one that she definitely should not have heard in this forest.

“Baaaaa….”

It sounded like...

A sheep?

Curious, she lifted her head and looked around the clearing she had walked into, not spotting the source of the noise. Unwilling to give up just yet, not wanting to think about her previous train of thought, she stepped out of the cover of the trees and into the rain. Immediately, she was drenched. Her hair stuck to her face, her dress hung heavy on her shoulders, but she was not discouraged. Brushing her limp bangs out of her face, she scanned the edge of the forest, searching for any sign of the sheep-

There!

She immediately realized why she had not seen the sheep at first. Its wool was a rich blue that blended into their surroundings and, although its face was white, it was partly hidden by the shrubbery that surrounded it.

What are you doing here…?

Her silent question remained known to only herself as she slowly approached the sheep. It seemed unbothered by her presence, content to snack on some of the plants that poked out of the ground, and she hesitantly reached a hand out towards the animal. Upon seeing no reaction, she let out a shaky exhale and gently pet it.

The wool was soft and warm.

Her fingers curled into it, the heat the sheep radiated chasing away the chill that had started to encroach upon her thanks to the rain. Her other hand joined the first, carefully holding onto the wool, and she leaned forward. Gently, she pressed the side of her face against the sheep’s flank, and a shaky sigh escaped her.

This felt… nice. It was relaxing, soothing, and a good distraction. She did not have to think about what came next, what challenges she would have to face, and how much it might hurt-

She let out a sniffle and turned her head, burying her face in the sheep’s wool. This prompted the sheep to let out another baa, but it seemed used to the physical contact and only shifted to gently bump her with its nose.

This sheep was nice, very nice, and she wondered where it might have come from. Did it have a home, somewhere? A family? A friend? Was it lost-

“Hello, there!”

A combination of shock and surprise led to her letting out a quiet yelping and standing up, carefully untangling her hands from the sheep and turning around to see who, or what, had spoken to her. Once more, that curiosity from before rose up in her as she faced the owner of the voice.

He was tall, and lanky, carrying a branch he must have broken off from one of the trees to use as an umbrella to protect himself from the rain. He wore a very large, bright yellow sweater and a pair of somewhat scuffed jeans. He seemed to be floating above the ground, and he was… see through?

A ghost, perhaps?

… As if she needed to be haunted by another ghost, albeit she was unsure as to whether this one was from her past or not.

Still, with her reservations firmly in mind, she took a step back from the new arrival. Interestingly enough, he did not seem bothered by her hesitance as that gentle smile remained on his face and he floated a bit closer to her and the sheep. He also waved, a gesture that she instinctively responded to with one of her own.

“His name is Friend, and he’s very nice.” The ghost explained, gesturing to the sheep before pointing at himself. “And I’m Ghostbur! It’s nice to meet you!”

After a moment of waiting to see whether he would say anything else, the girl slowly nodded, and Ghostbur’s smile grew wider.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk, or if you’re feeling shy!” He added, setting his makeshift umbrella down on the ground and sitting beside it a moment later. “I’m sorry if Friend and I are interrupting anything, too. I just wanted to go for a walk with him, and we got lost! And then it started raining…”

So… he lived nearby? Somewhere in the forest, perhaps? It was strange, she had never encountered anyone like this during her travels, someone who could speak to her, and did not force her to speak in return.

It was… nice. Unconsciously, she found herself relaxing a bit more and slowly returned to her previous seat on the ground. She still kept her distance, that stubborn wariness not wavering.

Friend, now seeing that both of the people who had been giving him love and affection were nearby, moved around until he was sprawled out between them. In near perfect synchronization, the girl and ghost both rested a hand in the sheep’s wool. At first, she blushed and went to move her hand, but after checking and seeing that he had not noticed, her embarrassment faded somewhat and she kept her hand still.

Silence surrounded the duo, both basking in the comfort brought by Friend’s soothing presence as they continued to hide from the downpour. Of course, this silence did not last for too much longer as the ghost started speaking once more. He looked over at her and curiously tilted his head to the side.

“Do… do you like the rain?”

Immediately, a brow was raised at the random question. She was uncertain of how to answer, speaking was not an option at this point and had not been for some time, nor was there any particular answer she had in mind. So, she chose to shrug for her answer. Upon seeing her response, the ghost continued speaking.

“I don’t quite like the rain.” Ghostbur mumbled as he picked up a strand of grass, slowly twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. “It hurts, and makes everything sad. It gets quiet, too quiet, and I hear bad things.”

Bad… things?

She tilted her head to the side, quietly wondering whether he was talking about… that, or something else. Did he know that pain? Was he familiar with it? Had he experienced it?

Was… was he like her?

Of course, she kept her questions to herself as the ghost continued speaking, unable to interrupt him. Although, she did shuffle a bit closer to him, now feeling more comfortable around him. He was a kindred soul, someone else who was haunted by the pain of his past, some great loss that would never, truly leave him. She could see it in his face, in the way he tried to keep smiling and cling to that momentary happiness.

She had tried that too, at the start, but she lacked the strength to keep up the act.

“But that doesn’t mean the rain itself is bad.” He continued, placing the grass down and turning to look at her. “It can be scary, especially if you’re all alone, and it can rain for way too long sometimes, but…”

“Rain… brings flowers! Beautiful flowers, and sunshine!” He smiled as he spoke, a gesture that looked both empty yet full of emotion, it was paradoxical, like his words.

Comparing flowers and rain to that, it was an insult! And yet…

In a way, she understood what he meant.

“It also gets easier when someone’s there to hold an umbrella for you. It… makes it all easier.” The ghost mused, his eyes appearing distant and focused on something else. “Less dangerous, less likely to get caught in the storm.”

Maddening laughter echoing through a ravine, the stench of smoke and hissing of TNT.

Let’s be the bad guys-

A sharp, shaky sigh escaped Ghostbur as he looked down at the ground. After a couple moments, he shook his head and looked over at the girl and smiled. “So, what flowers do you think might grow after this storm?”

Yet another random question that left her feeling confused and the slightest bit amused. Just like with his earlier question, her only response was a slow shrug. Yet again, he did not seem bothered by her lack of answer or her shrugging. He just continued smiling and talking.

“I’d offer you some blue, but it looks like you have a lot already!” Ghostbur chuckled to himself before scrounging around in his pocket. “I’ll still give you some anyways. It helps to keep the sadness away!”

She accepted the offered blue, noting how vibrant and soft it was. It was also a bit squishy, yet it retained its shape after she crushed it between her hands. While she messed with the blue, Ghostbur shifted until his back was facing her, Friend curled up at his side, and he looked up at the trees above them. The girl took note of the unspoken offer and, after a moment of contemplation, she hesitantly allowed her back to rest against his. Despite being a ghost, he radiated a sort of warmth that instantly made her start to feel better.

The girl let out a quiet sigh as she fully leaned against him, cautiously basking in his presence and the comfort his closeness brought her. How long had it been since she had last been this calm with someone else? This… content. She continued messing with the blue as well, squishing it and pulling at it.

The repetitiveness of it all was soothing

Slowly, she became aware of the sounds of someone playing the guitar. At first she heard a couple hesitant notes, as if the instrument was being checked to see if it was still in tune, and then the song began. The beat was slow, the tone somber, and although she knew she had never heard it before, it seemed… familiar in some way.

It resonated in her heart, in her soul, and she found herself tapping along to the tune.

She did not need to look behind herself to confirm whether it was Ghostbur playing, although a quick glance showed that he was holding a guitar that was just as see through as himself. His music continued, the girl wondering whether he was playing for her or for himself, but she ended up ignoring this thought in favour of focusing on the music. The blue was carefully tucked away, and soon both of her hands were being used to keep pace with the music.

Her head bobbed and swayed, hands and fingers moving in time, and even one of her legs occasionally bounced along to the song. So caught up in the music, she found herself looking upwards as her mouth opened. Only a couple, soft notes escaped her before she realized what she was doing, and her fledgling song was quickly silenced. She could feel her throat closing in on itself, grief choking her, and one of her hands clutched at her neck. Unbidden, memories rose and danced before her eyes.

An older woman sitting in front of her, face hidden by shadows with only her beaming smile visible. An evening spent in the garden, everything shrouded in darkness other than the firefly floating between them. An unspoken promise, a forgotten song.

How could you, how could you-

She was unaware of her companion turning around and placing his guitar to the side. Unaware of the blatant worry on his face as he took in her sobbing form. She was unaware of everything around her until she felt something touch her cheek. A ghostly hand gently wiped away one of the tears on her face, the droplet sizzling as it made contact with his somewhat corporeal form, and despite the pain it must have caused him, Ghostbur simply smiled.

“Would you like an umbrella?”

The girl broke down.

She threw herself at the ghost, hands clutching his bright sweater as she buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Immediately, a set of arms wrapped around her and held her close, and she faintly heard Ghostbur humming a gentle tune. Even Friend decided to join in on comforting her with the sheep pressing his nose against her back.

Memories tingled at the back of Ghostbur’s mind. Something about this seemed… familiar. Like he had done it before-

A young, blond haired boy crying into his arms after a nightmare. Running a hand through his messy hair while whispering reassurances. A guitar being picked up and a song being played.

… He could worry about it later. Helping his new friend was more important.

He knew the memories never stayed no matter how hard he tried, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

So, he let the girl cry. He ignored the faint burns that her tears caused and continued to do what he could to help her calm down. Humming and gently rocking her in place, giving her the time she needed to work through her emotions without rushing her. It took some time, but eventually her sobs grew silent and her shaking came to a halt.

She pulled back from his hug, Ghostbur quickly loosening his grip so she could move how she wanted, and looked up at him. Her face was red, her hair was a mess, and tears still stained her face, but she felt a bit better overall.

He… had helped her, so she needed to thank him for that, right? Manners were important, and she had to show how grateful she was to him. Slowly, she opened her mouth to speak, words struggling to form and dying in her throat. She… she was supposed to talk, she had to talk-

Stern faces, sitting in a room. Blank sheets of paper and a pen passed to her. That command, that insistence, repeated over and over again.

You have to talk.

Speak up, I can’t hear you.

You have to communicate.

What did you say?

“Hey, it’s okay!” Ghostbur’s sudden voice snapped her out of her spiral, and she found herself being pulled into yet another hug. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to! I promise!”

These words nearly made her start crying again, and she quickly wiped her face in an attempt to keep her tears at bay. She was surprised when the ghost offered her a handkerchief, he must have gotten from… somewhere.

She did not bother to question it as she quickly accepted it and used it to dry her tears. She was still, understandably, upset from the memories that had unintentionally been stirred up, but she was also a bit grateful that she had remembered them. They reminded her of her goal, her journey, and that even though she was enjoying her time with Ghostbur she had to move on soon. So, she mouthed the words she knew she could not say and hoped that he would understand her unspoken message.

I have to go soon.

Thankfully, he was easily able to decipher her words, and he nodded. Carefully supporting her, he helped to lift the girl back up to her feet, so she was standing. Friend blearily looked up at the duo, seeming the slightest bit annoyed that they had decided to move. After a bit of prompting on the ghost’s part, the sheep eventually stood up as well.

“I can come with you if you want?” Ghostbur offered as he carefully hooked a leash onto the collar around Friend’s neck before wrapping the leash around his hand. “We can weather the storm together!”

The girl smiled at his offer, but ultimately shook her head. It was nice being able to take a break and talk to someone, being able to meet him and Friend was the reprieve she had been looking for, but this journey was her own.

She would see it through to the end, no matter what that end would be.

Ghostbur made no move to argue with her or talk about how foolish and pointless her decision was, something that made her feel all the more relieved, and instead moved forward to give her one, final hug. She happily accepted it, leaning into him and pressing her face into his sweater. Quietly, always so quiet, she wondered if this was what having an older sibling was like.

Too soon for both their liking, the duo split up. The ghost checked to make sure Friend had not wandered off before picking up the branch he had been using earlier, and the girl brushed the bits of grass and dirt off her dress. She was still soaked with rainwater, but the cold she had previously felt was completely gone, so she was just…

Soggy.

It was not a comfortable sensation, but she had a feeling there would be more water in the future. She was not looking forward to it, but she would deal with it as best she could.

“I’ll try to visit when I can!” Ghostbur called out as he waved his makeshift umbrella, accidentally letting some of the lingering rain land on him. “Ow! And… and I’ll bring Friend back as well! You seem to like him a lot! I do too!”

She nodded and waved back. This seemed to be the signal the ghost had been waiting for as she sent her one last smile, turned around, and slowly floated through the clearing and into the trees, Friend trailing along after him.

Every so often he would turn around and wave, which she would respond to with one of her own. It was silly, incredibly silly, but it brought a smile to her face and soothed that aching part of her. The part of her that longed for companionship, to have a friend by her side that understood her and what she was going through.

A friend like Ghostbur.

Even when he started to disappear among the trees, trunks and leaves blocking her line of sight, she kept waving. As the distance grew between them, the ghost becoming nothing more than a blur, and then nothing, she kept waving.

It was only when her arm started to feel sore that she stopped, the limb dropping and resting by her side. Alone, but far less lonely, she sat back down under the shelter of the trees and waited until she felt ready to leave. Slowly but surely, the storm above her slowed and eventually stopped entirely, sunlight peeking through the clouds that blanketed the skies. The girl looked out over the clearing, taking note of how each drop of rain seemed to shimmer in the light, bringing forth a vibrancy the forest had previously lacked.

The greens, reds, and blues which had been so dull during the start of her journey looked as though new life had been breathed into them, even if parts of the forest were now waterlogged.

Gris stepped out from under the tree and into the warm sunlight. She held out her arms and spun around, feeling her dress flare out around her. A smile appeared on her face, unhindered by grief and sorrow. It was a smile full of hope.

Her storm would end, eventually. The rain would cease, and she would get to see the flowers.

I hope I see those two again.

Perhaps the next time she saw Ghostbur she would have a song of her own to teach him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ghostbur, sprinting into Techno's cabin and holding up Gris: "PHILZA MINECRAFT, I HAVE COMMITTED THE ADOPTION-"

Could there be a follow up to this? Maybe!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #crossover #gris #gris video game #hurt/comfort #grief #ghostbur #ghostbur commits mild adoption on sad lonely girl #you can pry my selectively mute gris headcanon from my cold dead fish fingers

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