#my family start to wake up and at that point i can kiss any semblance of peace and quiet gone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.

Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.

She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.

And you’re afraid.

That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?

The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?

She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.

When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.

“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”

She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.

“Walk me there.” she orders.

You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.

She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.

You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.

You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.

But.

When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…

It no longer seems so bad.

“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.

“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.

“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.

Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”

“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”

“How is that fine?”

The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.

You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations�� but why would the cold be an issue?

The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.

Another part of you… just plain worries.

“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.

“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…

Except.

“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”

Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.

“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”

Wait.

What?

You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’

Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.

And— you freeze.

Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.

There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.

“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.

“Uh—” you can’t really form words.

“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.

Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.

The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.

You manage. Somehow.

Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.

Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”

“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.

Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.

Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.

“Show me your house.” she says.

You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.

Nothing is.

Maybe nothing ever was.

And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”

You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.

Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.

Her other hand comes up to your neck.

You can’t, you can’t—

“Alexia.”

Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.

“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”

As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.

Haunts you.

You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.

“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.

You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.

From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.

You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.

You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.

She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.

Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.

Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.

“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.

“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”

Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.

Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.

“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #resident evil village #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #fanfiction #because i've read on spoilers of sadness and heartbreak and we all need something soft to take the pain away #cue our fav pillow princess being mega darling to her girl

357 notes · View notes

the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

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

In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #glorified self insert #self indulgence at its finest #is this even in character??#or am I just lonely and prone to incredibly intense nightmares #hopefully ~somebody~ enjoys #especially after the last serenade chapter right?

280 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

hiya. could you write a fic where tk has a panic attack from carlos’s pov? 😘🧡

i can indeed! this is combined with an idea jamie ( @silvarafael ) had and very kindly allowed me to write - i hope you both enjoy! the first section is also based on a vague idea i had after watching the ep.

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.10 spoilers

TK is silent the entire drive home, choosing instead to stare out the window with his jaw firmly clenched, his hands making fists in his lap. The silence extends all the way into the house, right up until the point when he flops down on the couch with a loud, frustrated sigh, burying his head in his hands.

At this point, Carlos knows not to push when TK is like this; he’ll talk when he wants to, and not a moment before. So he simply walks over, sitting next to him and placing a hand on TK’s back, rubbing gentle circles. TK slowly relaxes under his touch, unfurling his body, and Carlos is all too happy to let him shift into his arms, holding on and pressing kisses on the top of his head.

I’m here, he’s saying - not with words, but he knows the message gets across regardless. It may have only been less than a year since they started dating, but already they don’t always need words to communicate.

“I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable back there,” TK says suddenly. “I know my dad kind of dragged you into it all, and that must have been awkward for you.”

“It wasn’t my favourite interaction with your dad ever,” he admits.

TK snorts. “Understatement,” he mutters, and Carlos laughs, tilting his head in agreement. “I am sorry, though, really,” TK continues. “It was amazing of you to even be there; you didn’t have to be. I’m sure there are hundreds of places you’d rather be than an intervention session for my dad.”

“You mean supporting my boyfriend through something difficult and important?” Carlos corrects gently, shifting to catch TK’s eyes. “Because there’s nowhere I’d rather be than there.”

TK blinks at him, managing to hold his gaze for all of two seconds before he blushes and looks away. He takes Carlos’s hand, tapping restlessly on the back of it - a sure-fire sign he’s still worked up about something, so Carlos leaves him be, waiting for it to come out.

“Is it bad that I’m pissed at him?” TK’s voice is quiet, small, and it’s mirrored in his body language when he turns to Carlos, drawing his legs up and hunching his shoulders. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to connect with him, and it just feels like he’s constantly throwing it all right back in my face. And he’s… He’s such a fucking hypocrite. Ever since my first overdose, he’s been going on and on about how good it is to talk about my feelings and how I shouldn’t keep things bottled up, yet he insists on hiding this shit from me.”

TK laughs, short, sharp, bordering on hysterical. “He didn’t even tell me when he was fucking dying; I had to find that out by myself. And I’ve tried. I haven’t stopped trying.” He deflates, sinking back into Carlos with a defeated sigh. “But there’s only so much I can take, you know? I can’t… I can’t keep doing this, Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart breaks for his boyfriend. He wishes he could take the pain away; as it is, all he can do is hold him, and hope that he has enough words to at least dull the ache somewhat.

“It’s not bad to feel what you feel, TK.”

TK looks up at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think so?”

He shakes his head, kissing him again. “No. I think… I think your dad has treated you pretty unfairly, actually, and you’re well within your rights to be mad at him right now. But, I also think that you said it yourself; there’s only so much you can do. Before you can take care of your dad, you have to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re worrying over him.”

If TK’s eyes were any wider, it’d be comical. “But -”

“No buts.” Carlos smiles tightly, keeping his tone gentle. “TK, babe, you just led an intervention into your dad’s mental health, which I know was hard for you, yet you did it anyway because you love him. You tried, but if he doesn’t want to engage, then there’s nothing you can do.”

TK is silent for a long time, staring down at his lap. He’s still holding Carlos’s hand in one of his own, but his free hand is rubbing the material of Carlos’s shirt between his fingers; Carlos doubts he’s even fully aware he’s doing it.

“I know that,” he says eventually, voice little more than a whisper. “I do. I just wish he wasn’t so goddamn stubborn all the time.”

Carlos’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he speaks before he can stop himself. “Guess it runs in the family.”

TK stares at him, open-mouthed, and Carlos immediately regrets his words. He’s halfway through an apology when it’s like a dam breaks, and TK breaks out in giggles, his head thumping against Carlos’s chest.

“You’re lucky I love you, Reyes.”

Carlos grins and pulls TK as close to him as physically possible. “I really am.”

The call comes early the next morning, waking both of them up. TK grumbles as he smacks his hand against the nightstand in a blind search for his phone; the sight would be adorable if Carlos weren’t so tired himself. After the exhaustion of the past few days, he’d been desperately hoping to have a peaceful morning for once, maybe even - god forbid - to spend some quality time with his boyfriend without the threat of parents or work or sudden emergencies hanging over them.

Clearly, though, it’s not to be, as TK suddenly sits bolt upright in bed, all traces of sleep gone.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he promises to whoever’s on the other end, before lowering the phone and turning to stare at Carlos, terror obvious in his eyes.

“TK?” Carlos asks when he doesn’t speak, sitting up and slowly reaching out for him. TK startles at the contact, but quickly leans into it, covering Carlos’s hand with his own.

He swallows once, twice. “Buttercup’s sick,” he whispers. “Dad had to rush him to the vet’s. Carlos, what if… What if…”

He trails off, shaking his head viciously, as though he can erase the thought from his mind. Carlos quickly moves to steady him, stroking his thumbs across his cheekbones to calm him down.

“Let’s get dressed, okay?” he says, knowing reassurances won’t mean a thing right now. “Then we’ll go, and we’ll know more.”

TK just nods, quiet as they go through the motions of getting ready. Carlos makes sure to press an apple into his hand before they head out; he knows it will likely go uneaten, but it’s the only choice he has, given he knows that TK will refuse to stop for breakfast without finding out about Buttercup first.

If the drive back from Owen’s yesterday was silent, today’s is far worse. TK’s hands are constantly moving in Carlos’s periphery, alternating between fiddling with his apple, tugging on his clothes and hair, and rubbing at his face. On the rare occasion he does try to stay still, his hands end up twitching in his lap, followed by a sudden burst of anxious movement before falling back into some semblance of a pattern.

Carlos presses his lips into a firm line, accelerating more than is technically legal; at any other time he’d make a joke about how TK’s turning him into a criminal.

They’re forced to stop at a traffic light, and Carlos curses under his breath, getting jittery himself as the drive extends. He turns to check on TK, then curses again at the sight of his boyfriend’s pale face, his wide eyes and trembling body. TK gasps, then again and again, a hand going to his chest, and Carlos knows what this is.

A panic attack, but the second he reaches to help, the lights change and he’s forced to keep driving. He keeps one eye on TK the whole time, heart beating faster as he seems to get worse, and he’s thankful when he spots an opportunity to pull over, taking it immediately.

TK stares, shaking his head frantically and gesturing in a motion that Carlos takes to mean keep driving. His mouth opens and closes but he can’t form words, breaths coming short and fast. He folds in on himself when they stop, eyes closed and forehead almost touching his knees as his body heaves and shakes.

Carlos unbuckles himself and shifts as close as he can, placing one hand on TK’s back and taking his hand in the other, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. He’s had to do this a few times over the course of their relationship, shootings and kidnappings and disasters taking their toll on his boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make it any less difficult.

“You’re going to be okay,” Carlos says, pushing his own fears aside. “Just breathe slowly, in and out, that’s it; it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

He keeps it up, murmuring assurances he barely registers himself until the shaking lessens and TK’s breath slowly but surely begins to even out. He straightens in his seat, eyes still closed, and leans his head against the headrest.

Carlos pulls back, giving him a moment before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

TK shakes his head, then immediately changes his mind and nods. Still, it takes him a few seconds to speak. “What if it’s the cancer, Carlos?” he asks, peeling his eyes open, despair written all over his features. “He could - He could die, he could be dying right this second, and I don’t know if I can handle that, not after everything else.”

“I know,” Carlos says. “You just have to remember that we don’t know anything yet, and you have to believe that Buttercup will be fine until we do know more. We’ll take it from there, and if it is the cancer - which, yes, it might be - then we’ll all be around to support each other. Buttercup’s strong, though, I’m sure he’ll fight whatever this is with everything he has. He’ll be fine.”

Carlos smiles, noticing how TK is pretty much hanging onto every word he says. He takes a deep breath, briefly looking away before continuing, “As will your dad.”

TK frowns. “Who said anything about my dad?”

“TK.”

He sighs, hanging his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “this is a little bit about my dad. The longer he puts off this surgery, the more scared I get that the cancer will come back and we won’t get as lucky this time. I know it’s stupid, and I know I should be focused on Buttercup right now, but…”

“But,” Carlos agrees, reaching out and squeezing TK’s hand. “It’s okay, and it’s not stupid at all, I promise you. Let’s just take this one thing at a time, okay? First, we’ll get to the vet’s and find out how Buttercup is, and then we’ll see about having another conversation with your dad - maybe telling him what you’ve told me?”

TK exhales shakily, then nods. “Okay. Okay.”

Carlos gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand once more before shifting back in his seat to keep driving. “I’ll be right by your side,” he can’t help but say. He’s sure TK already knows, but the reminder can’t hurt, especially after what just happened.

TK stays quiet, but Carlos doesn’t miss the mumbled, “I don’t deserve you,” from the passenger seat.

“Wrong,” he replies, eyes on the road. “You deserve the world.”

And, in his periphery, TK smiles.

131 notes · View notes

willowandfog · 3 years

Photo

TAKING FLIGHT

Complete

Summary: Kagome has been struggling with her disability most of her life but she's never felt anything but normal with Inuyasha always steadily by her side. But when her neurologist approaches her with the chance to recover full use of her leg, she takes it.

A childhood friends to lovers, soulmates AU

Read on AO3 or Below the Cut

Inuyasha was already awake and drinking a cup of strong black coffee when his father arrived. Touga chuckled at the sight of Kouga sleeping on the floor, curled into a ball with his tail wrapped around his waist. Miroku was still obviously unconscious on the couch, lying face down, with mouth open and drool slowly pooling below.

“You boys had a nice evening then I take it?” Touga asked him as he poured himself some coffee into a mug.

Inuyasha laughed slightly. “Sure. You could say that. We all got drunk, well Miroku got absolutely pissed, and then Kouga tried to fight me.”

Touga raised a brow at that. “For the fun of it or for a specific reason?”

“Cause he still wants Kagome. Told me that if he could beat me that he would be the one to marry Kagome today.”

“I take it that went...well? The furniture all seems to be intact.”

“Oh I was all for the fight, then I just said no and went to bed.” Inuyasha set his now empty mug in the sink before heading back to the living room. “I’m sober and my hangover is almost gone so I imagine Kouga is fine and just sleeping in, lazy bastard. Miroku will be feeling like crap if he’s even sober by now.”

Inuyasha knelt by the couch and gave Miroku a shake. “Miroku, buddy.” Inuyasha shook him again when there was no response. “Miroku, time to wake up.”

Miroku groaned, rolling onto his back “Go way.” He muttered.

“Well you can wake up now and have some coffee and we can hit a drive thru for some greasy food for you and you can still stand by me today as my best man or I’ll ask my dad to stand in your stead. Which would you prefer?”

Miroku’s eyes fluttered open. “There was no option in there for you to kill me so I’m on the fence.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, rising. “Kouga. Wake up, either come with us or go home. You’re not staying here.”

Kouga flipped Inuyasha the bird from his place on the floor, but still opened his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Groaning, he sat up. With a heavy sigh he stood before making his way towards the bathroom. “I’m coming, wouldn’t want to disappoint Kagome by not having her favorite youkai in attendance.”

Inuyasha let out a warning growl just before Kouga slammed the door closed.

“You guys aren’t friends right?” Touga questioned as he handed a fresh mug of coffee over to the now sitting Miroku.

“Nope, I put up with his existence because Kagome has a soft spot for sad lonely wolves.”

“I heard that!” Kouga yelled through the door just before the sound of the toilet flushing came through.

“Good.” Inuyasha called to him. “I’m gonna go grab some socks and mine and Kagome’s luggage. We can head out after Miroku finishes his coffee.”

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

Inuyasha sat in the passenger seat, munching on a hashbrown as his father drove and Miroku and Kouga sat in the back, both chowing down on breakfast sandwiches from the drive thru.

“Did you have to go home first?” Inuyasha asked his father as he sipped coffee from his paper cup.

“No, we are stopping by the Higurashi’s; Kagome left her overnight bag there and your mother texted me and asked me to grab something she left there as well.”

Inuyasha nodded, looking out the window and watching the scenery pass by. He thought that he would be feeling nervous by now but found that he was more antsy and anticipatory for the whole event to begin.

When the car pulled into the short drive and came to a stop, both Inuyasha and Touga climbed out and made their way to the house. Inuyasha used his key to let them inside, he proceeded towards Kagome’s old room while his father went towards the kitchen. He immediately noticed Kagome’s bag, resting on the computer chair in front of the desk. He glanced around the room and peeked into the bathroom to make sure she hadn’t left anything else lying about. After snagging her hairbrush off the bathroom counter and tossing it into her bag, he noticed that one of his shirts was tucked underneath her favorite pajama bottoms.

Inuyasha pulled the shirt free, bringing it to his nose he inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of Kagome was strong on the fabric but there was a hint of his own as well. The combination of the two scents had Inuyasha’s youkai ‘purring’ as Kagome liked to put it. Upon the realization that she must have worn it to bed during their night apart, he clutched the shirt to his chest and bowed his head over it. While he wished that she didn’t have to deal with having such a hard time being apart, Inuyasha was slightly ashamed to admit that he was also glad that he wasn’t alone in the feelings. Bringing the shirt back to his nose he took one final whiff before tucking the shirt back into the bag and zipping it closed.

Bag slung over his shoulder, he met his father by the front door.

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

“You know you can.”

“How did you and mom do this? Stay a night apart, I mean. I feel it shouldn’t be this...difficult to sleep away from Kagome for one night. I mean, we are apart for a majority of the day during work.”

“Well, mainly, your mother and I were already bonded before we got married, so that helped. It still wasn’t easy, trying to sleep when your mate isn’t there is extremely challenging. Being full youkai, I don’t think I could’ve handled sleeping apart at your mother’s request if we hadn’t been bonded already. But you made it through and it should get easier here soon, just knowing your mate is in the same vicinity as you, surrounded by family. And just keep in mind that by this time tomorrow you will be a husband, mate, and soul bonded, and your mother and I couldn’t be more proud.” Touga clasped Inuyasha tightly on the shoulder, squeezing lightly in affection.

Inuyasha gave an almost shy smile. “Thanks dad.”

The pair shared a brief tight hug before heading out.

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

Inuyasha finished buttoning up his dress shirt before reaching for the cufflinks that his father had worn on his wedding day. He turned as he slipped the first one into place, taking in the sight of Miroku sitting on the sofa in the ‘man cave’ as the venue called it. He was nursing another bottle of water, head resting on his open palm.

“So, care to tell me what all the excessive drinking was about last night?”

Miroku rotated his head slightly in the semblance of a head shake. “I… had a date with Sango last week and I fucked it up.”

“How did you manage to fuck it up, haven’t you two been going on dates for months? Haven’t you already had sex?”

“Yes. I did something really stupid, panicked and ran out of there; leaving her with the bill and all alone in the middle of the restaurant. And I haven’t responded to any of her calls or texts and I just don’t want to face her today.”

“What did you do?” Inuyasha chuckled, straightening his sleeves after pinning the second cufflink into place.

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’ll be ok, you guys have been doing this dance since junior year. Off and on, someone always says something to screw things up, you guys fight or don’t speak. Then one of you apologizes to the other, or you guys get drunk and make up.”

As Miroku opened his mouth to reply, the door to the room creaked open, and Izayoi’s bright smiling face appeared.

“How’s it coming in here, boys?”

“We’re great, mom. You can come in.”

She slipped into the room, letting the door snik shut behind her. Her eyes quickly took in the room, scanning everything before settling on Miroku.

Inuyasha looked over his mother as she studied Miroku for a moment. She wore a floor length midnight blue sheath dress that Inuyasha knew perfectly matched the markings that graced his father’s cheeks. The bodice had a layer of flowery lace in the same shade, cinched at the waist before flowing to the floor in a shimmer of satin.

“Miroku, dear. Would you mind helping Touga outside for a few minutes, please?”

Miroku’s brows met his hairline for a moment as he looked back and forth between Inuyasha and Izayoi.

“Ummm, yeah, sure.”

“Thank you, dear.” Izayoi gave him a sweet smile as she watched him go.

Inuyasha turned back to the floor length mirror, picking up his pale golden tie from the side table. Looping it around his neck, he watched his movements in the mirror as he began tying the Windsor knot. He was halfway finished when his large hands were cupped by smaller delicate ones.

Izayoi took the tie into her hands and resumed Inuyasha’s work as his hands dropped to his sides.

“Kagome looks lovely.”

Inuyasha gave her one of his rare genuine smiles. “She’s always lovely.”

“Transcendent then.” Izayoi stuck her tongue out at him before giggling and folding down his collar, adjusting his tie into place.

Izayoi stretched up to her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. Dropping back onto her heels she made her way over and sat on the sofa Miroku had vacated. Waving him over she pointed to the floor in front of her.

“Sit.”

Inuyasha stopped in front of her. “Sit on the floor? But I’ll wrinkle my pants.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “They’ll be fine for a few minutes, sit please.”

He sat on the floor between her legs, crossing his legs and instantly relaxing. He had always found sitting on the ground, comforting.

Izayoi picked up the hairbrush that was resting on the side table and began to brush Inuyasha’s hair in gentle, slow strokes.

“I remember,” she said softly, “doing this when you were a little boy. You were always so excited for it. You’d come running to me with the brush and you would instantly climb into my lap when I would sit down. Oh, how it used to lull you to sleep, you would slowly start to slump over more and more until you fell asleep right there in my arms. I would just rock you in your sleep until your father came and scooped you up and carried you to bed.”

Inuyasha smiled fondly at the memory, eyes drifting closed as the sense of peace came over him. “You used to hum too.” He murmured.

She hummed her acknowledgement before beginning to hum a soft lullaby under her breath. When the song was finished she leaned forward and planted a kiss to the back of his head, setting the brush down on the cushion beside her.

“I love you, mom.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you too. You know, you have been and always will be my little boy; but you’ve belonged to Kagome just as long. Your father and I are so happy that this day is here and we are so proud of the man you’ve become. You’ve always done whatever you can to take care of and provide for Kagome, and those are amazing things to receive from a mate.” She kissed him again before rising.

Inuyasha stood and turned towards her, quickly moving to wipe her cheeks when he spotted the dampness there.

Izayoi smiled tenderly at him. “Today is a joyous day. One of the happiest days of my life was marrying your father, tied with the actual mating, and having you of course.” She lovingly stroked his cheek. “Now. Let’s get you in your jacket and outside.”

Inuyasha nodded slightly as he pulled her into his arms, tucking her under his chin and holding her tightly. He held her for several long moments before he released her.

“Ok. I’m ready, let’s do this.”

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

Kagome had been pampered, massaged, prodded and poked all morning and she was ready to be done. While the beginnings of the day had felt great, she was ready for the hair pulling, fidgeting, pins poking her head, and the fussing to be over with. All she wanted was to walk down the aisle and tell Inuyasha how much he meant to her and then be whisked away as husband and wife and spend the night in his arms.

She missed him something fierce, and she felt like she was starting to itch under her skin. She couldn’t quite figure out if that was the bond making her extra antsy and on edge being away from him or if it was just in her head. She could only imagine how Inuyasha was feeling about the separation since he had always felt the effects of the bond much more strongly than she had.

“Your hair turned out so beautifully.” Her mother stood directly behind her, stroking a gentle hand across her shoulder.

Kagome noticed Sango, her friend since freshman year of college, and Ayame, her good friend she was a new start with at work, standing behind her mother in the mirror she was sitting in front of, both nodding their agreement. She hoped to introduce Ayame and Kouga later at the reception, she had a feeling that they would get along and she hoped that they would hit it off pretty well. She had always felt a little guilty that Kouga still carried a torch for her even after finding out that she was Inuyasha’s mate.

Turning her attention back to the mirror, she turned her head back and forth, taking in her seemingly simpler hairstyle that had cost more than she had been willing to pay. A relaxed french braid started at either temple, forming a crown of sorts around her head and met together in the back to form a low messy bun. Loose tendrils fell from her bun and more were deliberately left out framing her face with slightly wavy strands. A simple gold leaf and pearl hair vine comb was pinned up against the side of her bun. She really did love it but still felt that the style could’ve been achieved without paying the amount that they had but her mothers had insisted that a wedding day was a day to splurge for the finer things, like having someone else to do your hair and makeup. Kagome was happy to have talked them out of insisting that she hire a makeup artist as well, pleading with them that her friends had asked and wanted to participate by being the ones to do her makeup. They had done a great job, her skin looked smooth, and she was shining in all the right places, her eye makeup was noticeable with the winged eyeliner and the shimmering gold shadow but it was all light enough to still look closer to a natural style.

“Alright, let’s get you into your dress.” Izayoi came over carrying a shoe box that she set on the vanity.

Twenty minutes and eight overly helpful hands later, Kagome was finally tucked into her dress. Izayoi and Sango guided her over to her chair and helped her sit, rucking up her dress as her mother and Ayame knelt on the floor, each bearing a shoe.

“Guys.” Kagome protested. “I can put my own shoes on.”

“Don’t be silly, darling.” Izayoi spoke by her side. “It’s hard to reach your own feet in a wedding dress, besides we enjoy helping.”

Kagome held back any further comments as each of her feet were worked into her crochet lace pointy toed flats with a sheer organza lace up ribbon. Although she was able to walk without her crutch now and almost always had a smooth gait when she walked, she wasn’t able to get much practice in with heels and had decided that it would be safer to wear flat shoes. But that hadn’t stopped her from taking Sango and trying to find the prettiest flats she could, and she thought the ballerina lace up shoes were to die for. After they finished criss-crossing and wrapping the ribbon around her leg and tying it into a neat little bow at the back of her calf, both Ayame and her mother stood.

“There.” Her mother beamed. “Now, let me grab my phone before you get your first look in the mirror.”

All four of her helpers reached for their phones at once. There were no blinding flashes throughout the day so far, no intruding presence, the photographer they had hired had been snapping photos throughout the process, occasionally disappearing to where Kagome could only guess was the ‘man cave’ where the boys were getting ready. Even though the photographer, Lacy, Kagome thought her name was, had been amazingly silent and unobtrusive, everyone else was still insistent on taking photos on their phones.

Kagome had been avoiding her own phone for most of the day, fighting the urge to text Inuyasha. But she came to the conclusion that having some hand taken photos and selfies of her wedding day would be a nice addition as well. Rising, she made her way to the vanity, careful not to look into the mirror. Pulling her phone out of her bag, she opened up the camera and turned to snap a few photos of everyone else digging their phones out of their bags, except Sango who was explaining some app she had to Kagome’s mother.

“Ready? Will someone take some photos with my phone too?” Kagome unlocked her screen, her lip quivering slightly at the sight of Inuyasha’s grinning face gracing her wallpaper.

“Yeah I got it, Kagome.” Ayame said as she came up beside her and gently took the phone from her hands, patting her softly on the shoulder. “You’ll see him soon, he’s fine and you’re doing great.”

“Thanks.” Kagome murmured as she sniffled before turning away.

Shaking herself out of her momentary lapse she slowly made her way over to the floor length mirror in the corner. She gasped when she saw herself. She had loved the dress when she saw it in the catalog but she was amazed that it looked as great as it had before. Knowing she was being ridiculous since she had seen herself during her fitting, this felt different, more final.

The intricately embellished bold lace bust delicately embroidered with sequins had a deep v-shaped neckline showing off just the right amount of cleavage. The bust flowed into a voluminous silk chiffon circle skirt, ending as it graced the floor. Turning slightly she caught sight of the low open back that ended with a small silken bow. Smiling, she turned to face the mirror again, reaching up to finger the delicate hand-beaded shoulder detailing with strings of thin spider-silk-like beaded strands dangling off her shoulder in drooping half circles.

Kagome was vaguely aware of exclaimed praises and comments about capturing good photos but it was all background noise. She shook herself from her daze and turned back to face the group, the sooner she was done fawning over herself the sooner she could walk down the aisle. They snapped a few more photos before taking turns taking selfies with her then gathering for group photos. They asked the photographer to also take photos with all their phones of the small group of women.

Kagome’s mother pulled her aside and hugged her, stroking a tender hand across her shoulder.

“I wish your father was here to see how beautiful and happy you are. I know he’d be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Tears filled Kagome’s eyes, her gut clenching as it always did when she remembered the accident that took her father from her.

“Thanks mom, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” She pulled her into another brief tight hug as Izayoi stepped up beside them.

“I’m going to go check on the boys and make sure Inuyasha is ready and get him out there. Take a few minutes to yourself, your mother and Sango will wait for you outside the door.”

Kagome nodded, giving her soon to be mother in law a hug. As the door closed behind the group Kagome let out a sigh of relief at finally being alone for the first time that day. She gathered up the couple items of hers that were strewn about the room and piled them into her bag; sneaking at glance at Inuyasha’s photo on her phone before tucking that too away and zipping the bag closed. Her mother had mentioned coming back to the room after the ceremony to grab her bag for her so Kagome wanted to make it as easy as possible on her.

Walking over to the vanity she sat, taking a few calming breaths. When she stood again she felt her weak leg give a little tremble. Sighing, she went back to her bag and extracted her brace. Sitting down she hastily pulled her skirt up and with difficulty managed to get her shoed foot through the brace and pulled up into place. After a stern glare at the brace, she stood, smoothing her skirt back into place. She gave one last glance into the floor length mirror before making her way to the door.

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

Inuyasha escorted his mother down the aisle, a symbol to their guests that it was time to find their seats as the ceremony would be beginning shortly. Kagome and Inuyasha had opted to not have a long drawn out intro to the ceremony, not wanting to wait what would feel like forever as bridesmaids and groomsmen walked down the aisle. So Sango and Miroku were already in place at the end of the aisle, standing to either side, ready to support and be witness to the union of their friends. In truth, Inuyasha hadn’t wanted anything to draw attention away from Kagome being presented and walking down the aisle.

Inuyasha studied the trees that they had picked to get married under. They were beautiful, far reaching weeping willows, standing slightly apart. Leaving the perfect amount of space for the couple to stand together in front of everyone and declare their love for each other. Kagome and both of their mothers had come out the day before and helped the venue string up fairy lights all along the tree branches. Allowing some to hang down from the branches towards the ground. The effect was almost magical as the sun began to set and the light a little lower, drawing more attention to the lit tree.

As Inuyasha reached the end of the aisle with his mother he stopped. Izayoi withdrew her arm from his before stretching up and placing a kiss on his cheek. She gave him a tender smile before moving to take the empty seat beside his father.

Moving to take his place beside Miroku, Inuyasha clasped his hands tightly together in front of him. His nerves spiked as his senses were suddenly overwhelmed, finally feeling Kagome’s presence nearby again.

Oh, how he had missed it, the feel of her gentle, loving presence brushing up against his. Her smiling face, her love filled eyes as she looked at him with adoration. He was hard pressed to believe that they had only spent a night apart, it felt like it had been days, weeks, years even. His yearning for her had grown so strong that when she stepped out from the tent flap beside her mother all breath and coherent thought left him.

She was the most divine creature he had ever laid eyes on. He glanced over her. Yes, the dress was beautiful and her hair was nice but he was more interested in her face. The brightness in her face and the smile that showed her absolute happiness of the moment. It spread to him, her joy, and he felt it reach him deep down into his soul, soothing his youkai.

He noticed the tightening of her hand wrapped around her bouquet, the catch in her breath and the speed of her already rapidly beating heart kick up a notch when she glanced up and met his eye. Hers a warm chocolate from a distance but he knew them intimately. Knew that they held many shades, shades of whiskey and a crystallized honey. Eyes focus solely on him, the bright gleam in her eyes only for him. Eyes that saw everything of him, that pierced through any gruffiness he might have had at the world and saw straight through to him.

When Kagome and her mother reached him, he stepped forward, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek before taking Kagome’s hand and leading her the rest of the way to the front. As they stopped in front of Totosai, his father’s long time friend, they turned to face each other. Kagome, still smiling and Inuyasha suspected that he had a goofy grin planted on his face.

Totosai spoke a few words of welcome to their guests, speaking the meaning of marriage and how happy he was that Kagome and Inuyasha were coming together; but Inuyasha didn’t hear the words, all his attention on Kagome. Inuyasha’s mind finally registered the words that were being spoken when Totosai spoke again.

“Kagome and Inuyasha have asked to incorporate a handfasting into their ceremony. And have asked that Inuyasha’s father, Touga, step forward and honor them in officiating the ritual.”

Inuyasha’s attention was drawn away from Kagome for the first time since she had appeared from underneath the tent to walk down the aisle. He glanced over at his father, who was rising from his seat amongst the front row, surprise clearly written on his face as he straightened his coat. Kagome and himself had decided not to mention including the handfasting into their ceremony to anyone other than Totosai, wanting it to be a surprise and a gift for his father.

Handfasting was an old tradition, something developed not from their heritage but was adopted early on in youkai society as an additional symbol of a soul bonded match. It was considered a great honor among youkai to be chosen by a bonded couple to perform the ritual.

As Touga walked around the couple, Totosai pulled him aside. They talked in hushed murmurs for a few moments before separating and Totosai stepped off to the side, standing near Miroku, with a smile on his face. Touga took his place behind the couple, facing them and the gathering, holding three satin cords in one clawed hand.

Though he had to clear his throat before beginning, Touga spoke loudly and clearly. “Though not originating from the youkai, handfasting was quickly developed into mating and marriage ceremonies as a perfect outward display of a soul bond. It is considered extremely fortuitous and rare to find your soulmate as well as a blessing to witness the joining. I am beyond honored to stand before you all as I guide my son and my new daughter into their union.”

Turning his attention back to the couple, Touga spoke to them. “If you would join right hands, please.”

Kagome turned, handing off her bouquet to Sango before turning back to Inuyasha and offering up her right hand. Inuyasha gently clasped it with his own, his eyes roving her face, taking in every detail.

“With full awareness, know that before this gathering of witnesses you are not only declaring your intent to be bound before your friends and family, but also by joining hands you are representing your willingness in the union, if one of you is unwilling to be bound to the other, please now lower your hand.”

Inuyasha and Kagome both held on tighter, staring into each other’s eyes as they spoke together. “We are both aware and willing.”

Inuyasha turned his attention to their clasped hands as Touga laid one of the satin cords, in a vibrant shade of forest green, across Inuyasha’s wrist. “This cord represents Kagome’s commitment and acceptance of Inuyasha in the union. Kagome, would you like to say a few words to Inuyasha?”

Kagome glanced at Touga, nodding slightly before turning and looking into the pools of melted honey that were Inuyasha’s eyes. “Inuyasha, we’ve been best friends for twenty-one years and you’ve been the love of my life for a dozen of those. That night when we were eight and you convinced me to sneak out of my house to watch the meteor storm with you, we both made a wish. And I think it’s finally time to share my wish with you; I wished for us to be able to stay together forever. My wish is coming true and that makes me the happiest-” The emotions clogged her throat and she covered her mouth with her free hand for a moment as she took a ragged breath. When Inuyasha squeezed her hand in support and encouragement she cleared her throat and looked back up to him with tear filled eyes. “The happiest person in the world. Inuyasha, I promise to always love and respect you. To support you and cherish you. And I promise to try to be everything to you that you have always been to me.”

Kagome looked to the side as Sango stepped up beside her, offering up Inuyasha’s ring on the palm of her hand. It hadn’t been hard to figure out a way to mix the traditional handfasting with the modern wedding ceremony. Taking the ring in her left hand, she turned back to Inuyasha as he offered his left to her underneath their clasped hands. As she slid the cool platinum band onto his finger he kept his gaze on her face, and when her watery eyes flicked back up and meet his, he mouthed ‘I love you,’ and she beamed, the motion spilling her tears out of the corners of her eyes to track down her cheeks.

Touga laid the crimson satin cord across Kagome’s wrist. “This cord represents Inuyasha’s commitment and acceptance of Kagome in the union. Inuyasha, a few words?”

Inuyasha took in a deep breath, he had written vows but they seemed a cheap imitation to what he knew his heart wanted to say. The breath he had been holding came out shakily as he slowly released it. He had so much he wanted to say and he was afraid he’d say it wrong. She had said such wonderful things that caused a warmth to bloom in his chest and he was the one that always fumbled for the right thing to say when it mattered most.

But he knew. He knew.

That no matter what he said in this moment, Kagome would know. She would know what he was trying to say, what he wanted to convey, what was in his heart. She always knew, she always understood, she knew him better than he knew himself.

“Kagome, you have been my entire focus and ever present constant since I looked out the window twenty years ago and saw a little girl fierce in her determination to make it from the car to the house on her own. I think even then I knew, I sensed something within me reaching out to you, urging me to befriend you, protect you, love you. I’m happy with the man I’ve become and that’s all because of you; because of your gentle hand and your guiding words. The strength and kindness of your heart never ceases to amaze me. I strive to be as good to you as you have always been to me. I promise to be your guiding light in the darkness, a warming comfort in the cold, and a shoulder to lean on when life is too much to bare on your own.”

Inuyasha looked down as a hand appeared at his side, Kagome’s delicate rose gold band lay on Miroku’s open hand. Inuyasha plucked the ring off his friend’s palm, mindful of his claws. When he turned back to Kagome she had more tears on her cheeks but her smile was dazzling, warm, accepting, and happy. Her offered left hand was already waiting for him, as he slid the ring onto her finger, he felt the youkai within him sturing. The need to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away from prying eyes and finally claim her as his mate washed through him with such force that he had a hard time resisting. But when his father began speaking again, he tried to tamp down even harder on the urge, knowing that later that night, Kagome would be his in every way possible.

“This cord represents their union, the joining of not only Inuyasha and Kagome but of each side’s family coming together.” Touga draped the gold cord across the top of their joined hands before moving both the other cords up to rest alongside it. “Today on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other forever, you are holding the hand of your best friend. These are the hands that will work alongside yours as together you built your future.”

He spoke as he held one side of the strands steady in one hand and began to wrap the other side around it. “These are the hands that will love you and cherish you through the years. These are the hands that will celebrate with you when you feel happy and comfort you when you feel sad.” He tucked one side under the other, pulling to form the knot on top of their clasped hands. One end of the cords dangling down on each side of their hands. “These are the hands that will give you strength and support whenever you need it. As your hands are joined together now, so your hearts will always be.”

Inuyasha and Kagome each took hold of one of the ends of cords, making sure to maintain eye contact. Slowly, they slid their clasped hands along each other’s as they separated them, pulling on the cord ends at the same time. When their hands fell free, the cords came together, forming a tight infinity knot.

Totosai stepped up beside Touga. “By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Using the cord as leverage, Inuyasha wasted no time in yanking it, pulling Kagome towards him, wrapping his free arm around her waist and crushing her to him. Still maintaining his hold on their cord he pressed his lips to hers. He’d kissed her countless times before, but the tingle of blissful tranquility that flowed through him felt new in a way he could not describe. He moaned slightly at the feeling, deepening the kiss. Stroking his tongue across her lower lip before dipping it inside her parted lips.

Only when he let out a low possessive growl did he remember the crowd; pulling away just enough so their lips were still touching.

“I love you.” He whispered against her lips.

“I love you, too.”

It was only then that he heard the crowd, they were all cheering and clapping, some rising from their seats. Inuyasha took Kagome’s end of the cords from her, turning and handing the knot over to his father.

“Guard this for us till later?”

Touga nodded, accepting the duty.

With a large grin Inuyasha tucked Kagome’s arm in the crook of his elbow, beginning to lead her away from their position at the front and down the aisle. His eyes were fixed on his luminous mate even as she watched the crowd, a shy but ecstatic smile on her face. There were a few clicks and flashes of cameras going off but Inuyasha’s attention never wavered. Flower petals rained down upon them, creating a lovely effect but other than causing Inuyasha to blink more often as sone petals hit his face, he never looked away.

When they reached the end of the aisle, he scooped Kagome up into his arms and quickly dashed off, looking for a place where they could extract a couple of quiet moments to themselves and bask in the joy they were feeling.

@ruddcatha @superpixie42 @lavendertwilight89 @clearwillow @dawnrider @mamabearcat @fawn-eyed-girl @smmahamazing @bluejay785 @i-dream-of-soup @liz8080 @zelink-inukag @malditamigs @shinidamachu

#inukag #inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inukagfluffweek2021 #inukagfluffweek day 7 #family

44 notes · View notes

help-i-need-a-cool-username · 4 years

Text

JNPR Berries Week 2020

Day 6: Alternate Universe

Okay guys i hate aus and i always avoid au days for ship weeks but i actually have so many Pyrrha Lives/Fall Maiden!Pyrrha AUs and i got carried away i wrote almost 2k in bullet points

@jnprberriesweek

After Fall of Beacon Pyrrha has two options: 1) enroll at Haven with JNPR and continue to chase her Huntress dreams while paparazzi continue to make most things she does public, indirectly informing Salem where she is at all times. 2) drop off the face off the Earth both to avoid Salem/Cinder and to continue the Fall Maiden's job

Pyrrha being Pyrrha (self-sacrificing) goes with option 2

JNR decides there’s no way they’re going to let (a freshly discharged) Pyrrha go running into unknown with no friends or backup

She’s worried about putting them in danger (even though that’s the Hunter job description) but Goodwitch reminds her that she’s only at half power so she should accept the extra protection, and friends since she’s about to leave her whole life behind to live as a nomad which makes making friendships difficult to create and maintain

(Pyrrha doesn’t mention that she’s pretty sure she sees all of them in the more romantic light)

JNR help Pyrrha change her whole appearance. Which is very important since she’s also famous

She looses her iconic armor and has to leave her weapons behind

JNR tries to convince her to cut her hair but she’s worried about not being pretty

Jaune unhelpfully reminds her that that’s probably a good thing considering they’re trying to make her as non-noticeable as possible (poor boy just meant she’s so pretty already she'll probably never be able to blend into the background of any crowd)

Ren is actually the one who has to go "Pyrrha you’re gorgeous shorter hair isn’t gonna change that at all"

Then Ren goes "look at Nora she has short hair and she’s stunning for all we know you’ll look even better with short hair"

Pyrrha and Nora are practically speechless because Ren thinks they’re beautiful

Pyrrha is like okay but I won’t let you cut it any shorter than here (gestures to mid-chest level). (JNR tries not to look at her boobs)

Nora then tries to get her to dye it. Pyrrha holds out

JNR end up in Vol 4 outfits

Pyrrha makes the difficult choice of deciding to fake her death. She makes sure her friends (she unfortunately is unable to contact Blake or Weiss) and family still know she’s alive (but they still grieve her as if she’s dead. They most likely will never see her again. The only ones likely are her parents) but to the world Pyrrha Nikos is dead, killed in the Beacon Massacre

JNPR sets off through Vale (Fall Maiden's territory)

Pyrrha has a hastily made vaguely similar weapons to her last set. She may be a professional but she’s a professional with her chosen weapons and semblance, not most other weapons

JNR sees how Pyrrha dies inside every time a little kid or random citizen tells her "did you know you look a lot like Pyrrha Nikos?"

Pyrrha is also now getting hit on without her celebrity pedestal to keep people at bay

The first few times its truly pathetic how Pyrrha responds

JNR doesn’t intervene because they remember how sad she was about no one asking her to the dance

What JNR thinks is they’re coming into rescue her only occasionally. The truth is Pyrrha is getting rescued every time by a different member and lots of times one of them will step in before anyone even approaches her

Most of the time she’s happy one of them intervened

Some times she’s mad that no one will let her handle this herself (no one has realized that yet)

A lot of the time she feels all warm and fuzzy because for a few moments she gets to pretend. She’s given a free pass to slow dance with Nora, or to lean into Ren when he puts a arm around her waist, or get away with kissing Jaune on the cheek

(JNR are also very happy when they get these excuses.)

Jaune typically intervenes because he’s a nice guy and watching Pyrrha flounder is horrible. Ren and Nora always intervene because they’re either being protective or jealous (Ren has perfected the evil eye. People will back off before they even finished crossing the room)

They almost always camp out but when they stay in town they usually share beds to save money

Originally they were doing girls in one bed boys in the other but Nora is the whole kicking, sprawling, blanket snatching package so they typically pull straws on who gets to share with her

Sometimes even her bed buddy will leave in the middle of the night and see if they can squeeze in with the other two

On the other hand Jaune drools, Ren sleeps like a vampire, and Pyrrha snores

With Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ren all pushing six feet whenever two of them pair up touching is unavoidable

Most of the time everyone but Nora (who can fall asleep instantly) stay up freaking out about being so close to their crush. Ren actually freaked so much the first time he moved to the floor and activated his semblance just so he could sleep

Pyrrha is a side sleeper so she always ends up tangling her legs with her bed buddy. She’s always embarrassed but tries to stay in that position as long as she can (its the only selfish thing she allows herself)

Winter however quickly forced JNPR to start sharing sleeping bags

They always zip both bags together but all decided spooning is the way to go after too many cold nights. They also bought a tent just big enough for the four of them in order to trap escaping body heat

Jaune is dying from so much close contact. Was it not bad enough he has to see all of his (recently discovered) crushes get changed twice every single day? Was accidentally seeing Nora's abs and walking into a door frame in Beacon not enough?

Nora and Pyrrha on the other hand are loving it (when its not absolutely freezing)

Ren has caught all three of them arguing over who gets to sleep with him that night several times. Apparently he’s the best big spoon

A pack mule joke turns into them actually looking into getting one

Originally they wanted a horse, but when they actually were looking they ran into the problem of 1) its too tall for Nora to pack the bags 2) horses are massive and JNPR quickly realize they're scared of them

So that leaves either a pony, donkey, hinny, small mule, or llama

They end up with a donkey and name her Betty. Nora wanted "Bessie" but Ren refused to give in on the basis that she’s a donkey and not a cow

They also take this opportunity to purchase more bulkier items that would make their life more comfortable that they were unable to carry by themselves before (tents, pots and pans, extra shoes, more jackets, books)

They're over a year in when Ren of all people gets high and talks about his feelings

He thinks he’s talking to Betty but really he’s been talking to a tree stump for the last hour

He got high by taste-testing the mushrooms he was cooking

The team came back from getting firewood and unpacking Betty to find him laying in the mud giggling at the sky with their questionable mushrooms burning on the fire. It was pretty clear what happened

JNP have been making sure he wont hurt himself but mainly they’re enjoying the show

"Psst Betty. Betty. You wanna hear a secret?" JNP lean in "I’ve managed to fall in love with my entire team. You can’t tell anyone though. I don’t think I’ll ever tell them either. Im not good with feelings, and that would probably make me a terrible boyfriend"

He then goes on about what he likes about each person. He goes off on a tangent about someone’s eyes for seven minutes. He talks about his favorite facial expressions everyone makes and the best parts of their personality. Nora's been red for awhile now, Jaune is leaning so far forward Pyrrha's worried he’s gonna catch on fire, and Pyrrha is actually tearing up

He says how he feels guilty whenever he cuts in on whoever is moving in on Pyrrha, that he feels guilty about being jealous but also about sending someone away when he knows Pyrrha wants that experience, and how he doesn’t realize he’s already moved in to stop the person until they’re walking away

That he feels like he could mess up everything he has with Nora, not by going into a relationship with her but by being unable to open up any more emotionally than he is now which he knows she'll expect (they’ve talked about being “together-together” before)

He laughingly mentions that one time Pyrrha said she wanted a guy taller than her because Ren gets it now because when he’s bunking with Jaune in the winter he’s found he really likes being held by someone taller than him

Ren then goes "oh no. No no no its bad enough I’m talking about my feelings out loud I’m not going to tell you who has the best ass. Aren’t donkey's also called asses? What’s it like being a donkey?" And everyone is laughing

Pyrrha is the first to break after they fall back into listening. She looks at the fire the whole time. She admits she feels the same way about all of them, that she also planned on never saying anything.

Then Jaune pipes in that he just figured it out for himself pretty recently. That at first he was worried it was either teenage hormones or that he was reacting to a vastly shrunk dating pool and therefore the feelings weren’t real. (Unlike Ren and Pyrrha his feelings didn’t begin romantic and then expand his started sexual until realized what he thought was strong platonic feelings might actually be romantic)

Nora is still red with her hands over her face but eventually she says that she’s been attracted to all of them since team JNPR formed and "since we all clearly feel the same way about each other can we stop with the super embarrassing love confessions and makeout already"

When Ren wakes up that morning he remembers very little since he doesn’t know what were dreams and what were hallucinations. He has a dehydration headache and rolls over but Pyrrha sees he’s awake and she comes sits next to him. Ren doesn’t uncurl until she started playing with his hair. "How much of last night do you remember?" "Mostly just colors." "Ummm okay. Remember anything anyone said?" "I think I had a conversation with Jaune about rocks." "That was to Nora actually. But you did think she was Jaune." "Mmhm." "So last night there was a development, but since you were high I wanna ask you again now that you're sober." "Okay." "So ummm, we're kinda all dating now? But if you wanna back out now that you're sober you totally can." "What do you mean by 'kinda all'?" "All four of us." "And you all want to date me?" "Yeah, you don’t remember all the love confessions that happened last night." "Oh. Did my rock conversation interrupt all that?" "No. You actually confessed first." "I WHAT."

#hinacu rwby #rwby #jnprberriesweek 2020 #jnprberriesweek #polyam jnpr #poly jnpr #hinacu au #i forget are alpacas also pack animals #are elephants #i figured they prob couldnt find a camel since Vale seems to be a pretty wet place #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #fall maiden pyrrha #fall maiden #au #alternate universe

69 notes · View notes

homebody-nobody · 4 years

Text

you’re a part of me

(WHAT?? Jax wrote ANOTHER fic?? THREE FICS?? in TWO WEEKS?? I know, I’m shocked too. We’re gettin closer and closer to bein a Real Fic Writer lads.) How many juke first kiss fics will you write, Jax? all of them. as many as I want. I dunno. you're an adult obsessed with a tweeny-bopper show. shut up. who even has the patience for 5 +1s in this house it's 3 +1 and only barely bc I don't know how structured fic works so it's not even separate like it's supposed to be. anyway enjoy some dumb teenagers falling in love if the dialogue is cringe sorry lol I was trying to stay in the tone of the show and may have gone a little bit too disney channel (Also if you see typos/the same adjective used twice in one sentence/paragraph, no you didn't I don't edit it makes me nervous) ------------------------------- (ao3) ------------------------------ '... Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.'

(3 times Julie and Luke almost kissed and 1 time they did) ------------------------------------ Luke is overly physical. Theoretically, Julie already knew this. She’s seen him with the boys, the way he lives in other people’s space, hanging off Reggie and lurking next to Alex, not caring where his lanky limbs or knees or elbows end up, even if it’s in other people’s ribs. He was never like that with her, too afraid of the crushing disappointment that came when she phased through his hands. But now, there isn’t the strange, tingles-up-her neck way-weird, way-wrong sensation that came when she accidentally brushed through him. So even though Julie’s used to keeping a respectful distance, Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.

She notices it the first time during rehearsal, when they’re hashing out the particulars of a melody -- Luke wants it to go down, and Julie thinks it should go up. She plunks herself down at the grand piano to prove that her idea will sound better, fanning the half-finished sheet music out across the top, pointing out the measure they’re arguing over, smudged and crinkled from repeated erasings.

Luke narrows his eyes at her from across the room, his face set in his trademark (adorable) grumpy expression. “It just sounds better!” she argues. “Listen.” She puts her hands on the keys, left hand hitting the chord, right dancing over her proposed melody. “So please, keep chasing me…” she sings, building to the last word and sliding her voice over an intricate run ending in a step up. Looking up, she tilts her head, her wild hair piled into a tenuous bun, curly tendrils framing her face. Luke’s stomach does an interesting flip. “See?”

He stands up, swinging his guitar strap down across his chest before walking around her, putting his right hand over where hers had just been on the paper. He stands just behind her shoulder, sending goosebumps down her spine. “It should go down,” he insists. “It’ll flow better with the next line and then the break before the chorus makes more sense. Listen.” He puts his foot up on the bench and swings his guitar back up like it's an extension of him, playing a riff and singing the line they’re arguing about before dipping in to the next. “So please keep chasing me,” he sings, his voice gracefully stepping up and then back down, “Cause even though I’m runnin’, I know you’re the one I need.”

“You’re making it too simple!” she cries, slamming her hands down in her lap and turning to face him. She opens her mouth to continue the argument, but when she looks at him, she starts, finally realizing just how close he is. The toe of his sneaker brushes her leg, and he leans over the sheet music, closing her in against the piano. His dark eyebrows pull together, mouth slightly pinched as he concentrates, solid and strong and very much in her space. “Um --” she says.

He shrugs, shaking his head a little bit. “What,” he says, not understanding what she’s having a problem with. Julie’s eyes drop to his mouth, close and stupid kissable, and he notices the motion. The air crackles as both of them unconsciously draw closer, song forgotten, focused only on each other. Luke leans in, half an inch, and Julie’s breath hitches in her chest. This is stupid. She knows this is stupid. Luke is dead. Full ghost. Not real. Well, real, but not a viable option. He might have a physical presence now -- a very strong, very warm, very attractive physical presence -- but that doesn’t make him any more possible. And yet, here she is, pulled into him like he has his own gravitational field and she’s helpless to it. Luke licks his lips, and Julie tilts her chin up, fractional motion tiptoeing toward something irreversible and dangerous.

Just as she’s about to step over that uncrossable line, there’s an almighty crash. Both of their heads whip up in time to see Alex topple off his stool -- he’d fallen asleep as they were arguing. The noise wakes Reggie, whose head was lolling against his amp. “I didn’t do it!” he yells, flailing into sitting up straight.

Julie clears her throat and turns back to the keyboard, stretching her hands over the keys. “You’re, uh --” she says, glancing at Luke out of the corner of her eye to find him smirking in an infuriatingly adorable manner. “You’re right. It should go down.” He stands up straight, mildly surprised at his easy victory, and backs off from the piano to show Reggie the chords. They sketch out the verse and Alex adds a backing beat, the moment forgotten.

That is, until Carlos comes in to nag her to eat. Alex poofs out and Reggie dives behind his amp. Since the whole discovering-corporeality thing, they’re not totally sure if Julie’s the only one who can see them still, and they’d rather not have to explain to Julie’s dad what three teenage ‘holograms’ are doing living in his garage. Carlos delivers his message and then darts back inside, eager for dinner, and Julie stands up from the piano, gathering the half-finished song and tucking it into the folder she keeps her in-progress projects in.

Reggie emerges in a comic mess of limbs and grins at her, Alex poofing back on to his stool. “I’ll be back after dinner to finish this,” she says, hoping they don't notice the shake in her hands as she tucks the folder away. Luke pops his chin over the edge of the couch, behind which he’d taken cover.

“Hey Julie!” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Just remember; KISS.”

Her brain short-circuits, heart tripping over itself as she remembers his eyes on her, his shoulders and his hands and his stupid concentration face. “I, uh -- What are you --” she sputters.

A shit-eating grin spreads across Luke’s face as he puts his elbows on top of the couch and pushes himself up. “Keep it simple, stupid.”

Julie practically runs out of the garage. Alex raises an eyebrow, his gaze arcing from the door to land on Luke. “That was uh…” Luke schools his expression into one of false innocence. “Bold.” Luke rolls his eyes and brushes him off, but Reggie gives Alex a knowing look. Their friends are idiots.

It happens again one afternoon when Carlos has a baseball game and Julie has the house to herself. Or, so she thinks. She’s lazing around on the couch, avoiding her history homework spread out on the coffee table, Adventure Time babbling on the television. She’s slowly working her way through a bag of gummy bears and m&ms (her favorite candy combination), wearing an enormous hoodie that used to be her mom’s, home alone; life is fantastic. Until --

“Oh, sweet, cartoons!” Luke poofs into existence directly next to her on the couch, and she starts violently enough to shake candy into the couch cushions. Some of it lands on his chest, and he holds up a green gummy bear with a wistful expression. Julie just stares at him, still mildly in shock, definitely still annoyed, and really not in the mood to endure his moping about food when she was having a perfectly nice time by herself.

“Hey,” he says, either ignoring or unaware of what he’s just done to her heart rate and her peaceful afternoon. “You think now that I’m corporeal --” (he over-pronounces the word, having just learned it from Flynn days before) “I can eat like, regular human food?” It isn’t until he looks to her for an answer that he realizes what he’s just done. “Oh, sorry,” he says, that same stupid-ass grin settling on his face, not sorry even a little bit. “Did I spook ya?”

His glee at the pun, which he definitely stole from Reggie, sparkles in his gray-green eyes, and Julie’s heart, which had just started to recover from his sudden appearance, trips over itself one more time. Emerging from the shaken-up snowglobe of her brain, she blurts out her first thought. “You’re the worst,” she says, even while thinking the opposite.

He looks genuinely hurt for about half a second before turning the gummy bear towards her, too, and speaking for it. “You should be nice to Luke,” he says in an absurd voice. “He’s so handsome and talented!” He laughs at his own joke and pitches his voice up to continue with the bit, but she snatches the candy out of his hand and pops into her mouth, grinning. He feigns shock. “That bear could have had a family, Julie.”

“If they did, they’ll all be happy together in my stomach,” she says, eating another one to punctuate the statement. Luke laughs, and the sound has a heart-stopping melody of its own. It’s comfortable, the relationship that they’ve developed with each other. He always laughs at her jokes and is the first to offer her a compliment after rehearsal, and she loves his dorky sense of humor, even when she gives him a hard time about it. They write music and goof around, and even with the (very strong) undercurrent of romantic (she hopes) tension between them, a friendship sits comfortably on top. He’s only been in her life for a short time, but she can’t imagine it without him. Her feelings for him endanger that, so she does her best not to let it show. He asks her what she’s watching, and she explains the basic premise of the episode so that he can understand what’s going on.

She’s hyper-aware of him as they watch the show, and she envies the ease with which he occupies her space, his shoulder brushing hers, their knees occasionally bumping. He slouches all the way down on the couch, one foot kicked up on the table, turning the remote in his hands and messing with the battery cover, completely at home. (He’s always fiddling with something -- a pen, his necklace -- or bouncing his leg, or clicking a guitar pick between his teeth. It’s a habit that’s mostly adorable and only sometimes annoying.) If he notices her staring at him, he doesn’t say anything.

It takes a couple more episodes, but she finally relaxes, and the distance between them -- already spare -- vanishes, her shoulder tucked under his, her head angled toward him, their feet bumping on the table. Half her attention is on Finn and the land of Ooo, and half on the boy beside her, who doesn’t seem to give any indication that he’s thinking about this as much as she is. Luke has a way of pulling her in until she’s closer than she ever planned to be, like she can’t help but touch him. Ever since the night they played the Orpheum, he’s become magnetic, his presence a force she can’t resist. If she tilted her head down, just a fraction, it would be resting on his shoulder. What would he do? Would he shrug her off, or rest his head on hers? She watches his hands play with the remote, imagining what his strong, slender fingers would feel like laced with hers. She’s had crushes before, of course -- she liked Nick all the way from seventh grade up to this year -- but nothing so real and powerful as this.

“Don’t you think Finn sounds just like Reggie?” Luke asks, pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, and -- oh.

He’s very close.

His eyes always remind her of an overcast sky, swirling with unknown depth, and they widen when they meet hers, filled with awe. Blood rushes in her ears, muting the TV, tuning out anything that isn’t him. Her heart is beating so hard and so fast she wonders peripherally if he can hear it, and then that thought fizzles out with the rest of any kind of logic when his gaze drops to her mouth. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her!! Panic and elation and anticipation all scramble in her chest. She’s never kissed anyone before, and even though she’s never asked, she knows he probably has. What if she’s bad at it? She’s half freaking out and half telling herself to shut the hell up as he turns his entire body towards her, his hand reaching up to hold her face and --

The front door slams open, announcing Carlos and Ray. “Mija!!” her dad calls. Luke jerks back from her like he’s been burned, eyes filled with absolute terror, before he disappears.

“JULIEEEEE!!” Carlos hollers, launching himself across the living room at her and landing on her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Her arms come up around him automatically, despite all the sweat and the diamond dirt sticking to it. Feeling mildly shell shocked and like she’s been hit by a hell of a lot more than her little brother, she barely listens as Carlos and their dad babble over each other in an attempt at telling the story of Carlos’ game-winning home-base slide. She’ll be happy for him once her heart rate slows down.

Luke stays away for almost a full twenty-four hours after that particular mishap, long enough she almost asks Reggie and Alex if he talked to them about it. There’s about a thousand reasons not to, but mostly, she doesn’t know if she can even explain just what happened. She does tell Flynn, who launches into a very confusing monologue that starts with her admonishing Julie for thinking anything good can come from involving herself with a literal ghost and ends with her gushing about how many cute love songs they could write together, zero percent of which makes her feel better.

The only reason he doesn’t continue avoiding her is rehearsal, which, of course, he would never miss. She’s hoping to talk to him before they get started, but then the bus gets stuck in traffic and all of her boys are already set up with their instruments and having an impromptu jam session by the time she gets home. “What --” she hisses as she heaves the doors shut behind her. “Did I tell you guys about playing in here without me?” Alex shrugs and apologizes, and she can’t really be mad at Reggie, at least not for long.

But Luke -- he barely looks at her, nervous fingers dancing across a complicated riff even as the other boys stop playing. It takes a second of silence before he looks up to see the rest of his band staring at him. “Oh,” he says, the phrase ending in the discordant sound of fingernails on steel strings. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

They get started, but nothing sounds right. Luke rushes the tempo and refuses to make eye contact with anyone, spinning off into fancy riffs that have no place in the song they’re working on. Reggie keeps trying to keep up with him, tripping up Alex and frustrating Julie, and when the song grinds to a cacophonous halt for the fourth time, she stands up from the piano. Reggie takes a step back.

“What is your problem?” she practically yells, stomping over to Luke. He’s been surly and unusually stubborn, and the shift from his usual cheerful, passionate demeanor builds her own stewing anxieties to a dangerous head.

“It’s not my problem you can’t keep up,” he says, and then, after watching the words register in Julie’s expression, immediately regrets it. Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Reggie makes a very soft ‘ooooohhh’ noise under his breath.

“It’s not keeping up if you can’t hold a steady tempo,” she says, too upset over his refusal to cooperate to catch the reaction from her bandmates.

“Okay, so maybe I was rushing,” he admits, trying to walk it back. But Julie’s on a roll, and once she gets started laying into him, she very rarely lets up.

“Thank you!” she yells, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She’d been especially fond of the product so far, a song she thought embodied the perfect blend of Luke’s harder edge and her singer-songwriter roots. His sudden, uncharacteristic left turn is as much an interruption in their rehearsal as a knock to the tenuous pride she’d been building in the piece. “And what are all those riffs you’re tossing in? You have to hear how they don’t fit.”

“Oh come on,” he says, proud in his ability and therefore less willing to step down. He rolls his shoulders back and moves toward her, the challenge set in his spine. “I was shredding and you know it.” Luke is sweet and kind and silly and compassionate, but he’s also a musician, and a lead guitarist at that. His ego, though it rarely becomes an issue, is far from insubstantial.

“If you want a solo, fine!” she cries with exasperation, her hands flying through the air like they always do when she’s upset. “But you have to say something so we can give you room for it!” Her annoyance has turned down the sensitivity on her Luke-nonsense monitor, caught up enough in the trouble that she can’t see that he’s riling her up on purpose.

“What, you afraid of a little improvisation?” He’s smiling now, and his obvious glee, such a stark flip from where she thought this was going, throws off her tirade. He starts walking toward her, and his newfound physicality gives him an ability to fluster her to a much greater degree than before.

“No --” she stammers, stumbling backwards, distracted out of anger by his sparkling eyes and the power in the body approaching rapidly. “That’s not what I --” There it is again, that power he has to turn the rest of the world into radio static, her vision blurring and her hearing dulling until it’s just Luke filling up the world in front of her.

“C’mon Julie,” he says, and right now she hates his stupid smirk and the stupid way he rolls her name around in his mouth before letting it out. “you have to take risks once in a while.” She’s backed up against the piano now, her hands wrapped tight around the lid, and he’s still pushing it, strong and warm and undeniably, frustratingly male in her space.

But Julie isn’t one to let him intimidate her into silence, no matter how cute and well-muscled he may be. She takes a breath and looks him in his ridiculous sparkly eyes, poking him in his absurdly firm chest.“I am not afraid of taking risks, mister,” she says, “Let’s not forget who performed in front of her entire school to get back into the music program --”

“My idea,” he scoffs, not backing up. Why isn’t he backing up.

“Or who fronts a band of actual ghosts!” she continues, her voice increasing in volume again, and the speed of her heart tripping over itself could be from the argument or the boy who’s collarbones are less than a foot from her face. Both are entirely possible.

“Less ghost now,” he reminds her, tilting his head, his weight leaned one one leg, his hand resting on the head of his guitar, relaxed when they’re supposed to be arguing.

“You just get to poof out after we perform!” she says, only about two-thirds of her mind still focused on the fight itself, the other third completely wrapped up in the feeling of Luke in front of her. “I’m the one who has to stick around and ask questions!”

“So you’re saying you take chances,” he says, diabolically diplomatic instead of challenging. He leans forward, putting his hands on the piano behind her, caging her in with his arms. She refuses to back down again, even though his face is now inches from hers. “You’d take a leap of faith?”

“Yeah,” she says, only half-certain, because she’s not totally sure they’re still talking about music, and her heart is in the base of her throat and her stomach is somewhere around her shoes, and suddenly her hands are sweating when they definitely weren’t a minute ago. This definitely isn’t an argument about the song anymore.

“Oh yeah?” he says, and there’s the challenge again, except this one sounds more like a dare, and he’s definitely looking at her lips this time, not even trying to be subtle about it, and her hands are braced on his forearms and when did they get there? And Luke is warm and when she looks up, his eyes are on hers, and despite all that bravado and provocation there’s still a question there, and all she would have to do to answer is lift up on her toes and finally, finally press her lips against his, and --

Alex coughs. The oxygen goes out of the room like someone opened an airlock, and Julie feels herself sink, just barely, back down on her heels. The world fills back in, colors and sounds suddenly too bright, too abrasive. Tearing her eyes off Luke, she glances over his shoulder to where Reggie and Alex are, still with their instruments, watching them intently. Alex looks politely put out, his eyebrows tilted up with incredulity, like he's asking if they seriously just made him watch that. Reggie, on the other hand, hides nothing in his expression, shock and amusement there in equal parts as he glances between Alex and the two of them still tucked close against the piano, jaw askance in a surprised smile.

"Are you done?" Alex asks, in a tone that sounds less like a question. "It’s not that I mind…" he gestures between the two of them with a drumstick. "This, but like, time and place, dude." He's not talking to Julie. Luke clears his throat, appropriately chastised, but still looking smug as shit.

"Um, sorry," she mutters as he returns to his spot next to his amp.

Alex shrugs. "Not your fault," he says, "from the top?"

"Uh," she says, frozen for a moment in embarrassment and confusion. She looks to Alex, and he gives her one of his soft, kind smiles, the sort that makes her feel like everything is going to be okay. “Right, okay,” she finishes, as her hands twitch and she settles back into her body. Rushing back around to the bench, she flexes her hands over the keys, curling them into fists and then back out again when they tremble. “From the top.”

The rehearsal goes -- okay, after that. The magic is missing; therefore, while she usually feels inspired and courageous and empowered walking out of the garage, she just feels exhausted and drained. She eats dinner with her family, and her dad definitely notices that she’s uncharacteristically quiet, but saves asking about it until after Carlos is safely sequestered with his iPad. “How ya doin, kiddo?” he asks as she helps him clear up the dishes. “Everything okay?”

Julie looks at her dad with mild alarm, wondering what exactly he knows. He does his best, he really does, but it took him a while to even notice she was in a band. Not to mention, he still believes they’re holograms. “Um,” she says convincingly. “Yeah?”

He smiles kindly, in the way that means he’s very politely calling bullshit. “Alright, mija. What’s going on?”

Heaving a sigh, Julie keeps her eyes on the dishwasher she’s loading, trying her best to plan an escape route out of this conversation. “I promise, Dad,” she says, “It’s nothing.” and then, what she thinks are the magic words. “Boy stuff.”

But Ray’s been prepping for this, had conversations with Rose about it before she passed, while the cancer slowly ate her alive. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to be there for her daughter through the time in her life a girl needs her mother the most, and she wasn’t about to let him hide behind toxic masculinity and leave Julie to figure it out on her own. “Okay,” Ray says, trepidation clear in his voice but also not unwilling to approach the topic. “What’s his name?”

Julie almost drops the pot she’s scrubbing. “Does it matter?” she asks, her voice crawling up several octaves.

“Just trying to learn who is in my daughter’s life,” he answers diplomatically, sitting down at the counter to make it clear he’s not letting her out of this one easily.

“I promise, Dad,” she says, doing her best to frantically dodge the interrogation she knows is coming, regretting she brought it up at all, cursing herself for being so obvious. “It’s dumb. You don’t even know him.”

Ray nods slowly, pretending to believe her. Julie goes after the pot a little harder, because maybe if she just finishes the dishes she can go upstairs and bury herself in her bed and not have to have this conversation anymore. “It’s not that guitarist, is it?” he asks, and her spine goes stiff as a ramrod. Ray’s her dad, but he’s not blind. He’s seen the way they look at each other when they perform, the way the boy follows her around the stage like a puppy, desperate for her attention, disappointed when she jams with the other members of their band and not him. He’s an excellent musician, but Ray knows too many stories of near-legends gone sour with misdirected young love.

“No!” Julie cries immediately in an obvious lie. “Of course not!” She turns, half-laughing, explanations falling out of her mouth “We’re just friends,” she insists, lacing her fingers in front of her and nodding exaggeratedly. “Just friends. Only friends. Uh-huh. Friends. And!” she continues, gesturing widely, “he doesn’t even live here! So that… wouldn’t even make sense!” she laughs awkwardly. “So no way. That it’s him. No way it’s him.”

Ray sighs out a laugh that Julie’s too panicked to hear and leans forward on his elbows. “Alright, nina. Just be careful, okay?” She’s nodding along, edging her way towards the stairs. “You and your band…” She looks like Rose, in that hoodie that practically swallows her, hair piled messily on top of her head. Her mom was also a terrible liar, he remembers fondly. “You have something special. Don’t throw that away for a boy.”

Julie nods rapidly and then bolts, thundering up the stairs before throwing her bedroom door closed behind her and diving headfirst onto her bed, burying herself in decorative pillows. How does everyone know?? First Flynn and then Reggie and Alex and now her dad? Is she that obvious? (Um, yes.) She flops onto her back, staring up at the colorful tapestries slung across her ceiling, the string lights and posters and art. Usually, she loves her room, the feeling of her creative mind as a space she can inhabit, exploring her heart and the things she loves without having to shut out the outside world. But tonight, she feels trapped in her own head, so she grabs her notebook and squeezes out the window, perched on the roof outside her room.

The evening air is cool and crisp, the gentlest bite warning the oncoming winter, as much as there is a winter in LA. She spends a while scribbling down half-baked lyric ideas and doodling angry black scribbles around the edges of the pages when nothing comes out right. It’s harder to write on her own, now, without the steady pulse of Luke’s genius behind her, the electricity that flows between them as they create impeccable harmonies. Sometimes, it feels like music belongs to the both of them together, a joined force, like they’ve given up their individual melodies for something greater. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Eventually, she just ends up holding the notebook open to ‘Perfect Harmony’ with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her legs, her chin propped on her knees. She still hasn’t shown it to Luke, afraid of how real it feels, how clear it makes her feelings for him. Also, it’s a ballad, which they haven’t even approached yet, and she has no idea how Reggie and Alex will feel about such an explicitly romantic duet. She’s thinking that maybe she might be able to vague it up, maybe even make it a solo piece, when Luke appears next to her, like thinking about him draws him to her. (Which might actually be true -- she hasn’t examined that very closely.)

“Hey!” he says cheerfully, all awkwardness from the evening’s rehearsal ostensibly disappeared. He plucks the notebook out of her hand, using the other arm to hold back her immediate demands for its return. “New stuff?” he asks. This is not normally such a grievous invasion of privacy. Ever since they started writing together, their songwriting journals have become common property, and half the pages in hers are marked up with his handwriting and vice versa.

“It’s not ready yet!” she cries, pushing against the (stupidly strong) arm he has across her collarbone, willing to climb bodily over him to snatch the notebook back. Luke’s face very slowly falls as he reads it, the lyrics sinking in, and her protests trail off as she stops scrambling to grab it out of his hands.

He stands suddenly, pacing across the roof. “Did you --” he starts, breathing shallowly, his tongue tucking his teeth between his lips, nostrils flaring before he speaks again. “Why did you copy this out of my songbook?” It’s not accusatory, only a question, born of true confusion.

“I didn’t,” Julie replies without skipping a beat, equally baffled.

“I wrote this after the garage party,” he says. “How is it in your notebook?”

“I wrote it at school before the garage party,” she replies, doing her best to keep down the memory of the Luke in her imagination and the song coming to her fully formed in the form of a Patrick Swayze-esque daydream. She didn’t even tell Flynn about that part.

“At school…” Luke repeats, studying the lyrics with a furrow between his eyebrows, and as much as Julie is also reeling from shock at the mystery, it’s kind of adorable to watch him try and solve it. “This doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking up at her, signature grumpy expression in place. He tilts the notebook flat, like he’s presenting it to her, hoping she has the next steps. Like he’s reached his conclusion, and it’s that he’s confused.

“It doesn’t,” she says, and it comes out as half a laugh unintentionally, just looking at his ridiculous, adorable face.

“Why are you laughing?” he demands with exasperated urgency. “This is super weird!” He rushes over and collapses next to her, a mess of flannel and limbs and beautiful dumbass. He shoves the notebook back into her hands as she folds her legs underneath her, relinquishing her grip on her knees.

“Yeah,” she sighs, unable to wipe the grin from her face. “Yeah, it is.” Luke looks like he wants to ask her what she’s smiling at, but then he starts smiling, too, because her happiness is his happiness. Julie’s already past the strange coincidence, lost in the joy of his gray-green eyes and the feeling of him next to her. She’s too used to strange, to the ever-changing rules of the afterlife and the constant uncertainty that Luke and her boys bring to her life. Yes, it’s strange, but she’s in a ghost band and her crush is dead and still manages to look at her like that so she has a certain level of perspective when it comes to things like this.

“What are you --” Luke tries to say, but her eyes are on his and they’re warm and brown and kind and he’s finding it a little hard to form sentences.

“This is ridiculous,” she says, and he’s nodding without knowing what he’s agreeing to. “We wrote the same song on the same day,” she laughs, and he nods again, half-listening, half lost in her. She’s excited now, about the possibility brought on by magic and her connection -- their connection -- souls tied together with passion and music and love. “That’s impossible!” It cements something for her, the feeling of coming together, of sliding into place. They’re so solid, tight, together, on the same wavelength… musicians have put it a thousand ways throughout the years, to communicate the feeling of a co-writer, a bandmate, a partner, reading your mind, singing the next line, playing the next riff that was just in your head. Julie and Luke get the added bonus of being inexplicably spiritually linked. Nothing can break that, or replace it. She’s not scared of it, anymore.

“Impossible,” he echoes. He always feels a little bit stronger, a little more alive whenever he’s with Julie like this, just the two of them, hanging out or writing music, and he’s in her immediate proximity, soaking in the warmth of her brown skin and brown eyes and the chaotic energy of her wild, incredible hair. She pulls him in, without knowing the power she holds or the light that she emits, casting a golden glow over everything around her.

“Luke,” she says, and he tunes back in, realizing that he’s steadily leaning toward her as they sit on the roof, Julie cross-legged, Luke angled toward her, one leg stretched out, his elbow propped on his other knee. “Are you listening?”

“Um,” he swallows, “Yeah?” but he’s looking at her lips, not her eyes, and he’s thinking about kissing her, just once, just to see what she tastes like, remembering the smell of gummies and m&ms, hoping she’ll be just as sweet. She doesn’t say anything, mostly because she forgot what she was going to say in the first place, watching his eyes watch her mouth, breathing him in. He’s too close again, closer than any friend or bandmate should be, and there’s no mic between them, and the door to her room is closed, and there’s no bandmates or brothers or dads, and her heart pounds in her chest.

When she tilts her chin towards him, she feels ready, finally, knowing what he means to her. Only a breath separates them, but they both stop, waiting for the inevitable interruption, the door slamming open, or someone calling up from the yard below, but it doesn’t come. Realizing what they’re both waiting for, they breathe out a simultaneous laugh, their foreheads dropping together. The tension fades, and Julie’s smile feels uncontainable, demanding every inch of her face as this beautiful, goofy, genus, talented boy adores her while she sits there, falling in love with him.

It’s easier, this moment, than the one before, because it feels less laden with the weight of someone pulling away, unsure or unwanting. This moment is comfortable, joyful, the two of them acknowledging every minute of want and disappointment and hilarious misfortune over the past few days, acknowledging what they would have asked for instead. And when Luke finally reaches up, pulling her in gently with his hand on her neck, his thumb sliding over her jaw, it’s with confidence and tenderness, reassured that she wants this, too. Julie leans easily into the touch, and when their lips meet, the spark and rush is better than any performance, any screaming crowd drowning in lights. They kiss each other, moving together, leaning in as one, harmony made in the movement of mouths and the press of lips, and this moment -- it’s perfect.

#jatp #juke #julie and the phatoms #julie x luke #luke x julie #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #homebodynobody #julie molina #luke patterson

50 notes · View notes

ad1thi · 4 years

Text

proof of life | AU-gust Day 10: Pirates AU

AU-gust masterlist

you told me you were a pirate and i didn’t believe you. you got angry and stormed off somewhere. yeah i know, i offended you but iS THAT ANY REASON TO KIDNAP ME AND PUT ME ON YOUR SHIP JUST TO PROVE YOUR POINT??? (from this prompt list)

for @welovetonystark

Admiral James Rhodes was the proud Commander of the most impressive Fleet that the American Navy has ever seen. Colloquially, his fleet was known as War Machine, because of their impressive firepower. His ships were outfitted with the best cannons, and he had good crews working under him - men and women with good heads on their shoulders, instilled with duty to God and country.

He was directly responsible for hundreds of sailors, and while James wore his lapels at the front of his chest, things like this took a toll on a person, weighing them down until they just needed to unplug. Which is why he was here, clad in only his breeches and a loose shirt - his pistol left at home and armed with nothing more than a small dagger strapped to the inside of his boot; nursing a pitcher of ale.

The tavern that he'd found himself in was in the rougher side of town, frequented by Maidens and their patrons, littered with men that ordinarily, James would be writing up and throwing into the dark side of a cell. But these were not ordinary times, and James was here to forget his job, not act on it.

The Iron Man is a favourite of pirates in particular, and James knows that he's taking a huge gamble by drinking here. It's very possible that the few members of the crews he's raided over the years might recognise him and cause trouble - but he has a deep-seated need to be removed from his life; one that rivals his desire to not find himself on the business end of the wrong person's pistol.

"You don't look like you're from around here," James turns to face the man who's settled down next to him, blinking lazy eyes as he takes in his figure. The man is dressed like James, breeches and a loose shirt that's tucked at his waist and accentuates his hips, curvy and shapely. He's got a heavy mop of brown hair, and when James brings his gaze back to the man's face - bright hazel eyes blink back at him.

"I'm not," James says after a couple of seconds, "Looking to escape my usual haunts."

"Ah," the man says, waving down the barsmaid, "then you've picked the right place. I'm Tony Carbonell." James takes the proffered hand, with the intent to shake it, but at the last second - brings it up to press his lips to the back of his palm, as if Tony is a dame that he's courting.

From the way Tony's cheeks heat, he might as well be. "James," he offers back, "no last name."

Tony's eyes twinkle, and he leans in much closer, close enough that James can feel his breath against his neck, "Oh honey, for the things I want to do with you," Tony's gaze travels down his body, not similar to how James had looked at him not a couple seconds ago, and James feels a familiar heat gather in his core, "we don't need last names."

"Awful forward aren't you?" James remarks, even though he knows that he's going to leave with Tony.

"It pays to be forward in my line of work," Tony leans back, hopping off his stool and extends his hand towards James, "so are you coming?"

James debates blowing him off, but then he catches the curve of Tony's backside in his breaches - and the decision is made for him, really.

Later, when they're naked, and sweaty, and there's a map of clothes leading back to them - James turns to Tony and asks, "so what line of work requires you to be so forward?"

"I'm a pirate," Tony huffs back with a smile, " 's how I can pay to keep the Iron Man open."

"You're a pirate?" James says incredulously, giving Tony a slow once over, "That line work for you often?"

He never gets to hear Tony's reply though, because a couple of seconds, he falls into a blissful sleep.

The first thing that James notices when he wakes, is that there's a bag over his head. This is instantly suspicious. The second thing he notices is that his arms are bound behind his back, and when he tugs at his wrists, he thinks he recognises the scruff of rope. The third and final thing that he realises, is that he is no longer on land, because he can hear the sound of water connecting with the hull of a ship.

It's enough for him to put together a rather grim picture of where he might be, and he starts tugging at his wrists with more purpose - hoping to loosen the rope enough to reach down for the knife in his bootstrap.

"You're awake!" says a familiar voice, and James instinctively flinches when the bag is ripped off his head. He blinks a couple of times, adjusting to the sudden light, but his jaw slacks when he focuses on the person standing in front of him.

"Tony?" he says, flabbergasted, and Tony nods, looking oddly gleeful.

"You said you didn't believe that I was a pirate," Tony gestures around him to what, looks like a pirate ship James realises with horror, "so I decided to give you a chance to see for yourself how wrong you were."

Next to Tony is a tall blonde, leaning over Tony's shoulder with one hand perched on her pistol. His first mate, James' mind supplies, and he dimly wonders what Gods he must've pissed off to get into bed with a pirate.

"I have a small confession to make," Tony continues, oblivious of James' thought process, "My name isn't actually Tony Carbonell. It's Tony Stark, as in -"

"- of the Stark Family," James finishes, "I recognise the name."

"I thought you might Admiral," the surprise must register on James' face, because Tony's grin goes wider somehow, "no last name my ass. You're Admiral James Rhodes."

"Tony!" his first mate hisses, "Are you trying to get us killed? I can't believe you kidnapped an Admiral just to prove a point! Of all the stupid things you've done…" she trails off, and Tony honest to god pouts.

Anthony Stark was not an unfamiliar name in the waters. The Stark family were notorious for their ruthlessness, their ships outfitted with weapons that surpassed even James' own - and they were infamous for never leaving any witnesses. James had lost many a good men to the pursuit of even the barest description of what the new Head of the Stark fleet looked like, and now James was sitting in front of the man, arms tied behind his back - a few mere hours after he'd bed him.

Whatever preconceived notions James had formed when he first realised that he was on a pirate ship were swiftly thrown out, because it was one thing to be a captive of a pirate ship, and another to be captive on a Stark ship.

In front of him, Tony is still arguing with his First Mate.

"All the work we've done to conceal your identity!" she's yelling, "and you spread your legs for the first pretty Admiral that smiles your way?"

"In all fairness," Tony concedes, "I didn't actually know he was an Admiral at the time. Besides Pepper, what would you have me do now? Kill him? He's not a foot sailor, I can't exactly toss him overboard and expect no retribution."

Tony turns to James, and clutches his chin - lifting his face up for Pepper to see, "Look at how pretty he is. It would be a loss to all of mankind if I just gutted him."

"If you kill me," James pipes up, because the topic of discussion is his possible execution, "you will feel the wrath of the entire United States Navy if I wash up dead."

Pepper scoffs, "If we kill you sweetheart, nobody would ever find your body." She kills at him like he's dim for even suggesting otherwise, and James resumes tugging at his wrists, if only to give him the semblance of not giving up.

"We won't be killing you," Tony says loudly, sending Pepper a significant look, "and you can stop tugging at your wrists. I tied you up myself, you aren't getting out of those anytime soon. Plus," he pulls out James' knife and James feel the last of his hope vanish, "I've already taken your knife for my own."

"If you aren't going to kill me, what exactly is it that you plan to do with me?" Rhodey asks, growling with Tony reaches out to touch him again.

"I haven't decided yet," Tony says, with the air of someone who's choosing what their next meal will be, "but I'm sure we'll find some use for you yet."

"That doesn't sound very reassuring."

"Chin up babe," Tony clucks, "and look around. There's worst pirate ships to find yourself captive on." He claps his hands, and leans down to press a kiss on James' cheek, "we're going to have so much fun together."

Fin

#my writing #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #james rhodes x tony stark #james rhodes/tony stark #rhodey x tony #adi does AU-gust #AU-gust #proof of life #pirate tony stark #admiral james rhodes #first mate pepper potts #meet cute #meet ugly #i deviated slightly from the prompt #but the essence is still the same

76 notes · View notes

razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

Routine (Final Rose AU)

Willow opened her eyes and bit back a smile. As usual, Snow was already up although he’d taken care not to wake either her or Serah. It was equal parts thoughtfulness and self-preservation. Serah might have been the smallest out of the three of them, but she was also the most ferocious. It was also a horrible idea to anger someone who could mess with time.

And speaking of time, it was about time for her to get up and check on her father. He hadn’t wanted to move to Vale, but his worsening health had not been helped by the climate in Atlas. Thankfully, a combination of Willow’s pleading, Serah’s tyranny, and Snow’s good natured cheer had eventually won her father over. It hadn’t hurt that he’d be able to see his grandchildren every day either since he’d be moving in with them.

Some wealthy men might have chafed at moving from a mansion to a spacious but not gigantic home in the suburbs. However, her father had not grown up wealthy. He’d become wealthy through hard work, perseverance, and intelligence. He might enjoy being wealthy, but he prized his family above everything else.

She dressed quickly, taking a brief moment to tuck the blankets back in around Serah, before making her way downstairs. There were voices coming from the living room, and she was pleased to hear her father’s amongst them. His voice was strong and clear. It must be one of his good days.

“Good morning.” Willow pressed a kiss to her father’s cheek and grinned as the children looked appropriately horrified. “What are you up to this morning?”

Her father chuckled and gestured at the blocks scattered on the living room floor. “The children are building a Dust mine.”

“Are they?” Willow eyed the blocks scattered on the ground with a more discerning eye. Her father was right. It might be far from complete, but they were putting together a Dust mine. In fact... “Would you happen to be helping them with the design, father?”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, grin widening a fraction.

“Unless I’m mistaken, it’s based on the very first mine you ever found. You’ve told me about it enough times that I can recognise the layout even if it’s not complete.”

He chuckled. “Ah, you’ve got me. The kids asked me about it, so I thought it would be nice to build a copy, so they’ve got something to help them visualise the stories.”

Winter, the oldest of the children, nodded. “Since we’ve never been there, it would definitely help.” She shrugged. “I mean... we could look it up on the InfoNet, but building it ourselves just feels right.” She gestured at Claire, Weiss, and Whitley who were all doing their bit to add to the model of the mine. “And it’s something we can do together.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Willow glanced toward the kitchen. “Is your father cooking?”

“Yes.” Winter sniffed the air. “I think he’s making bacon although he did mention something about pancakes and omelettes too.”

“I’ll go help him out. Keep working on the mine with your grandfather.”

“Is Serah Mom going to be up soon?” Winter asked.

“She’ll be up when she’s up.” Willow giggled. “You know how she is.”

“So right before breakfast?” Winter asked.

“Most likely.”

As Willow headed for the kitchen, she thought about the other woman. Serah was not a morning person at all, which usually left her or Snow to handle breakfast. However, she was definitely an afternoon and evening person, so she was perfectly happy handling lunch and dinner.

“Morning.” Willow would have kissed Snow, but the tall man was in the midst of cooking several things at once with the aid of his Semblance. “My father looks like he’s having one of his good days today.”

Snow continued cooking, but she could hear the relief in his voice as he worked on the omelettes. “He always does a little worse when it’s cold at night, even with the heat on, but we’re coming into spring now, so I think he’ll have more good days than bad ones.” One of his Semblance’s hands flipped over a pancake. “I think having the kids around helps. I just hope Vanille will have a cure ready in time.”

“I hope so too,” Willow said as she slipped into place next to Snow, taking over the pancakes. “Although he’s already grateful for the time her treatment has been able to give him. Still...”

“It’s Vanille,” Snow said. “She said she’ll get it done, so she’ll get it done - by hook or by crook. That’s just how she is. And just think of how many other people any cure she comes up with will be able to help. There’s a lot of former and current miners out there with problems like your father.”

“I know.” Willow sighed. At the moment, Vanille’s treatment was basically keeping her father from deteriorating, but the prospect of a cure - something that could actually get him healthy again was tantalising. She could remember her childhood. Her father had been a strong, larger than life figure. His illness had robbed him of much of his vitality, and he was a shell of his former self from a physical standpoint. If it wasn’t for his willpower, she was certain he’d have died long before Vanille had gotten a chance to stabilise his condition. “I just worry.”

“Hey, we all do,” Snow said. “I never knew my parents,” he murmured. “I grew up in an orphanage. Your dad, well, he’s been kind of like a dad to me too.” He paused. “And I’m just glad that Vanille isn’t here right now because hearing me say your dad was like my dad would have a sister fixation joke thrown at me so fast.”

“Don’t worry. I’d stab her with a fork.” Willow turned away from the pancakes briefly as Serah shambled in. “Or I’d try. I don’t think my sister would actually let me stab her.” She yawned. “You two want coffee?”

“Sure,” Willow said. “Snow?”

“Yeah, some coffee would be good.”

“Fantastic, because I could definitely use some.” Serah got the coffee going, frowned at it, and then gestured with one hand. A second later the coffee was done.

“Did you just use your Semblance to make coffee faster?” Willow asked with a grin.

“Of course, I did. If you can’t use your Semblance to make every day life easier, then what is it good for?” Serah poured out three mugs of coffee.

“I don’t know,” Snow drawled. “Saving the world?”

“I can save the world and make coffee faster.” Serah shook her head. “Did you know Vanille built a rebellious coffee machine? I don’t even know why she felt the urge to make it sentient. On the upside, it likes Lumina and the kids. Its rebellion is entirely specific to her.”

“That’s Vanille for you.” Willow gestured vaguely at the pancakes. “A little help?”

“Sure.” Serah waved her hand at the pancakes. “Just keep a close eye on them. If they cook faster, they’ll also burn faster too.”

“I know.” Willow had gotten used to working with Serah’s Semblance. For one, it made making a roast far quicker and easier. And it had saved the day when she’d forgotten to put the turkey in before a big meal. “You two don’t have any missions for a while, do you?”

“A whole fortnight off,” Snow replied. “Well... unless the apocalypse happens, then it’s all hands on deck.”

“The same.” Serah sighed contently as she drank her coffee. “I’ve got the next two weeks off, as well, so my students are going to have to live without me.” She cackled. “I wonder if they’ll get complacent? It’ll make the surprise survival test I’ve got planned even more fun if they do.”

“You’re evil,” Willow teased.

“Hey, being a hunter isn’t easy. I’d rather my students suffer during training, so they don’t have to suffer out in the real world.”

“That’s true, I suppose.” Willow patted her cheek thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I’m not entirely free over the next two weeks. I still have to go into the office at least twice a week.”

“It’s fine,” Serah said. “You’ve got to run the company to give your dad more time to get better. I’m amazed you only have to go in two or three times a week, actually.”

“It helps that my father and I have made a point of hiring competent subordinates instead of bootlickers, and that we’ve partnered with Vanille’s company on a lot of our projects. I’d hate to get into a corporate war with her, and she’s got minion management down to a science.”

“But you’ll be okay for the visit to Sazh’s ranch, right?” Snow asked. “The kids have been dying to go. Winter has already ridden a chocobo, but the others were too young the last time we went. In fact, Whitley might still be too young although maybe not if Sazh still has that easy-going yellow chocobo.”

“I’ll be there,” Willow said. “I wouldn’t miss it. I know my father will love seeing Mangler again.”

“That thing is pure evil,” Snow muttered. “Lightning punched the crap out of him, and instead of being freaked out, I swear he was impressed.”

“Well, my father and Mangler get along pretty well. He actually looked a little worried the last time they met. I think he was shocked by how ill my father looked.”

“He’ll be happy then since your father is looking better.” Serah started making some hot chocolate for the kids and Willow’s father. “He’s a jerk, but I think he’d miss your father if something happened to him.” She made an exasperated sound. “We just have to remind the kids that, no, they can’t try to ride Mangler.”

“Yeah, no.” Willow shuddered. “Lightning and Fang won’t let Diana try, and she’s got Ragnarok. There is no way we’re letting the kids try. They can all ride nice friendly chocobos.”

“I’m going to start setting the table,” Serah said, sniffing the air. “By the smell of it, everything should be done soon.”

“Do you need a hand?” Snow asked, a glowing blue hand appearing beside her.

Willow snickered. “You say that every time, Snow.”

“Because it’s funny.”

“I beg to differ,” Serah replied.

X X X

Author’s Notes

A glimpse into what Willow’s life could have been...

#final rose #fanfiction #snow villiers #willow schnee #winter schnee #nicholas schnee #serah farron

7 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

Self-Promo Sunday

This story has never been posted to tumblr before, but it’s still to this day my most popular one shot on Ao3 (by both hits and kudos). I still can hardly believe it because when I wrote it, I honestly didn’t think anyone would even read it, much less like it. There are certain expectations for one-night stand fics, and this fulfills none of them. Mainly, there’s no smut. I just loved the concept and had to write it, then was beyond thrilled that other people liked it too!

Summary: Ruby convinces Emma that the best way to finish off her birthday celebration is a one-night stand with the hot British guy at the bar. But, as usual, things never go as Emma plans.

Rating: T

Words: 4k and some change

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

People talk about having a voice on either shoulder. Emma Swan has three. In the form of her three best friends. Ruby sees everything through the lens of fun. If it feels good do it, que-sera-sera and all of that. Sometimes Ruby helps Emma get perspective and lighten up. Other times she just gets her into trouble. Then there’s Mary Margaret, the hopeless romantic who thinks that out there somewhere is Emma’s true love, and once fate leads her to him, Emma’s life will just fall into place. Like what Mary Margaret has with David. Mary Margaret’s voice is usually the easiest for Emma to ignore. She stopped believing in fairy tale endings a long time ago. And then there’s Elsa, the practical one. She also just gets Emma because where Emma’s been called prickly, Elsa’s been called cold, so she understands Emma’s walls. But she also cuts to the chase and isn’t afraid to call Emma out on her crap. The only problem is when the words coming out of Elsa’s mouth sound like psycho-babble. So Emma’s constantly got three differing opinions chirping in her ear. Even when they aren’t present because she knows in every situation what each of them would say.

All three of them agreed, however, on the best way for Emma to spend her 28th birthday. So she left Henry with Granny and the four of them headed to New York. After a day of shopping and a Broadway show, they’re now in the hotel bar, and Ruby thinks the perfect way for Emma to cap off the day is with a no-strings attached night of passion with a good-looking guy.

“The last thing someone with Emma’s intimacy issues needs is casual sex, Ruby.”

That was cerebral Elsa, of course.

“Although,” puts in Mary Margaret, “striking up a conversation with someone wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You never know where it might lead.”

“Where could it possibly lead?” argues Elsa. “We’re on vacation. In a different state.”

“Why does it have to lead anywhere?” Ruby asks with a shrug, “I’m just trying to find a guy for her to bang. When was the last time you had sex anyway, Emma?”

Mary Margaret’s and Elsa’s pale cheeks both turn ten shades of red. Elsa is blunt but never crass, and Mary Margaret’s never known any man but David, high school sweethearts and all. Ruby does have a point, however, it’s been . . . well, Henry’s three, so let’s just say it’s been awhile.

“Besides,” Ruby continues, “if you don’t drag that guy over there upstairs, I will. I mean, damn, would you look at him?”

All three of them follow Ruby’s gaze to the bar, not really expecting to be blown away because, honestly, Ruby didn’t get the title man-eater for nothing. But then Emma sees the guy, and – hot damn! – Ruby was right. It’s been awhile since Emma’s jaw has dropped just looking at a guy, but it’s happening now.

“Whoa,” is all Mary Margaret can say. And that’s actually a lot. She usually only has eyes for David.

“I bet he’s an actor on a soap opera,” Ruby giggles, “with a pretty face like that?”

“I wouldn’t call him pretty,” Emma says hoarsely. He exudes too much raw masculinity to be called pretty, not to mention the scruff on his face that gives him an edge of mystery.

“I agree with Emma,” Elsa agrees, “I would guess he’s a musician. Look at those tight jeans and that leather jacket.”

“Oh, I’m looking alright,” Ruby purrs.

The guy glances their way (because he feels their eyes boring into him, most likely), and they all hurriedly look away, except for Ruby who grins wolfishly at him and wiggles her fingers in greeting. But the glance was enough for Emma to see how bright blue his eyes are.

“God, Emma, did you see those eyes?” Ruby asks as she continues to ogle the guy. She smoothes out her skirt and moves to stand. “I’m not letting that man candy go to waste, Emma.”

Emma clamps her hand down on Ruby’s arm. “Now wait just one second. He’s mine.”

Ruby smirks at her in triumph while Mary Margaret encourages her to talk to him and get to know him while Elsa keeps admonishing that the whole thing’s a bad idea. Emma knocks back one more shot, but not to get her tipsy. She needs to have her faculties to read the guy; she’s not stupid. She just needs a shot of liquid courage. Because Ruby’s right – it’s been awhile.

The guy’s not stupid either, he glances over her shoulder when Emma approaches him. He knows full well they were checking him out. But his eyes also rake over her approvingly, and it’s plain as day he’s happy that she approached him. When he opens his mouth, a British accent comes out. The next chance she gets, she glances back over at Ruby and mouths, “Oh. My. God.” Then she composes herself, smooths out her hair, and dials up the flirting. Their banter is laced with innuendo and contains absolutely no personal content, which is exactly how Emma likes her one night stands. It only takes one more drink for him to have her pressed against the wall in the elevator. God, he’s a good kisser!

They giggle and stumble down the hall to Emma’s room, unable to keep their hands off each other. The door has barely shut behind them when he has her on the bed, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

Emma doesn’t know exactly what happens. One minute she’s moaning as he kisses along her décolletage, and the next he’s sliding the zipper down the side of her too-tight dress and the action is like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her. He gasps and pulls away from her, feeling it too. They both look at each other with wide, panicked eyes and then speak simultaneously.

“I can’t do this.”

He groans and rolls over onto the bed, flinging his arm across his face. They’re both lying there panting as their heart rates work to get back to a normal rhythm. When they speak again, it’s at the exact same time.

“I have a son.”

“I have a daughter.”

And then they’re both laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They both roll over to face each other, and Emma realizes neither of them are as drunk as they had been pretending to be. Emma props her head on her hand.

“I used to do this all the time. But then I had Henry, and well . . .he’s three.”

He smiles back at her in understanding. “I used to do this all the time, too. But then I met my wife, and then she died, and now it’s just me and Haley . . . she’s five.”

He stares at her for a moment, then sighs and stands up. “Well, I’ll be going then.” He says it in such a sad, resigned voice that it breaks Emma’s heart a little. He picks his jacket up off the floor where Emma had pushed it off his shoulders. But before he can put it back on and walk out the door, Emma grabs his hand. She’s hearing Mary Margaret in her head. You understand each other! That’s got to mean something.

“You don’t have to go,” she tells him. “We could watch TV, get room service.” Emma bites her lip, nervous she’s pushed too far.

“Seriously? Because usually when I mention my dead wife and my daughter, women are halfway out the door.”

Emma shrugs and gives him a smile, “Men usually do the same when I mention my son. Please stay. I want you to.”

“Okay then,” he says, smiling so brightly she can now see he has dimples. He tosses his jacket on the back of a chair. “My name’s Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

*************************************************************

Emma wakes up the next morning in Killian’s arms, but not because they changed their minds about the sex. They’re both still fully clothed. Okay, maybe not fully. Killian’s in only his boxers and his white v-necked undershirt, and Emma is in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Still, they only did two things last night – well, three if you count eating way too much candy from the mini-bar, and sex wasn’t one of them.

The first was just talk; they never did turn on the TV. Emma would have kicked him out or tackled him in exchange for mindless sex instead if it hadn’t been for Elsa’s practical voice in her head. This is good, Emma. This is healthy. Amazingly, she told him all about her years growing up in foster care. Far more than she had ever told anyone else. But it’s because Killian, it turns out, is an orphan too and has his own tragic stories to tell. At age 13 his brother Liam became old enough to be his guardian, and then he had some semblance of a family.

She tells him how she started sleeping around at fifteen, craving intimacy while fearing it at the same time. She admits that she has no idea who Henry’s father is; even if she could narrow down the guy, she wouldn’t know his name. Her eyes drop to the mattress at that, but Killian tilts her chin up to look at him. She sees in his eyes that he understands.

He tells Emma how he idolized his brother. So much so that he followed him into the Navy, only to lose him. It’s then that he went off the deep end with liquor and women. He was in a band, too, so one-night stands had been easy to come by. Milah, his wife, owned a pub where his band played frequently. Even though she watched him go home with different women every night, she still fell madly in love with him, and he with her. When Milah got pregnant, he gave up the band, but they were so blissfully happy. Haley was only a year old when Milah got sick – stage five breast cancer. Six months later, Milah was gone and Killian was alone with an 18 month old baby.

“Haley’s my whole world,” he tells her then, and Emma looks up at him with tenderness in her eyes.

“And Henry is mine.”

Killian leans down and kisses her then, and it’s the most tender kiss Emma has ever known.

So here they are, morning, and Emma is curled up against him, her head on his chest. She thinks he’s still asleep until his hand starts rubbing her arm. Killian’s touch has heat that lights her on fire from the inside, which reminds her of the other thing they did last night: make out like a couple of teenagers. Even though he can’t see her face right now, she blushes as she remembers the moans just light petting had elicited from her. It’s then that reality hits Emma like a Mac truck: what they shared last night was far more intimate than mere sex would have been. She can hear Elsa’s voice in her head: Queue the panic. And sure enough, it comes. Emma takes a few deep breaths before slipping as calmly as she can from his embrace. He’s leaving for London this morning. She’s leaving for Storybrooke. It’s not like this can go anywhere, but she still doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” he says sleepily, grabbing her hand as she eases from the bed, “how about some breakfast.”

“Oh, um, I’m actually meeting my friends for breakfast,” Emma explains as she shrugs into a hoodie. She stands there regarding him awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms across her chest. It isn’t a lie; she really is supposed to meet the others at nine before driving back to Storybrooke.

“Okay,” Killian replies easily as he stands and pulls his jeans back on. He then reaches for the hotel pad of paper and pen on the bedside table and jots something down on it. He rips off the top sheet and hands it to her.

“My contact information,” he explains with a lopsided grin. His gaze is both gentle and sincere as he continues in a softer voice, “I really like you, Emma. Since we didn’t do anything stupid, I’m hoping we can stay in touch. I mean, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. Not for me, at least.”

Emma gives him a tentative smile as she takes the piece of paper and crams it unceremoniously into the pocket of her hoodie. Killian’s gaze follows her movement, and the light in his eyes dims.

“Well,” he says, scratching behind his ear, “I’ll take my leave, then.”

He shrugs into his shirt without buttoning it up, then heads for the door with his jacket and shoes still in his hand. Emma lets her head fall backward in frustration at herself.

“Killian, wait,” Emma calls after him.

He turns in the doorway, and Emma just stands there, unsure of what exactly she can say. Finally, when he raises his eyebrows at her in confusion, she decides that if she’s never going to see him again, at least she can get one last kiss. So she grabs the gaping lapels of his unbuttoned shirt and hauls him in. He gasps in shock at first, dropping his jacket and shoes with a thud. But he quickly catches up, kissing her back thoroughly until both their lips are swollen. She thinks again that he’s the most fantastic kisser she’s ever met.

When they finally part, breathless, Killian rests his forehead against hers and thumbs the dimple in her chin. “I could fall in love with you, Emma Swan,” he whispers, his eyes still closed. He opens them before Emma can look away and she feels as if she’ll drown in the deep blue of those eyes. He traces her cheek with his fingertips, “But you won’t let me, will you? You’re going to throw away my contact information, aren’t you?”

Killian’s hand drops away and he sighs as Emma remains silent. He bends to retrieve his things, and with a whispered good-bye, walks away from her door.

“I could fall in love with you too, Killian,” she whispers to his retreating form.

But she doubts he heard her.

********************************************************

“So he spent the night in your room – the entire night – but you didn’t sleep with him?” Ruby hisses across the table, half-eaten bagel still in her hand.

“Well, technically, we slept,” Emma responds wryly.

“But no sex? Seriously?” Ruby tears a piece from her bagel violently, but pauses before putting the piece in her mouth as a revelation seems to hit her, “Wait, is he gay?”

“No, he is definitely not gay,” Emma states emphatically, feeling infantile when she blushes.

“So what did you do all night?” Ruby asks incredulously.

“We talked mostly,” Emma says with a shrug, “and . . . other things.”

“What other things?” Elsa asks.

“God, Elsa,” Emma says with a roll of her eyes, “do I have to spell it out for you? We made out.”

Ruby reaches for the collar of Emma’s button-down flannel shirt, exposing the black and blue mark on her neck. “A hickey!” Ruby exults, “He gave her a hickey!”

“Quiet down, Rubes,” Emma hisses as she re-adjusts her collar, “what is this, high school?”

“So what did you guys talk about?” Mary Margaret asks eagerly. Only she would be more interested in the conversation.

Emma shrugs again as she spreads jam on a piece of toast, “You know, just stuff. Our childhoods. Our kids. We talked a lot about our kids.”

“He has kids?” asks Ruby with a wrinkled nose.

“Yes, Ruby,” Emma snaps, “kids. Which is probably why we thought twice about having sex with someone we just met.”

Ruby’s eyes grow large, “How many does he have?”

Emma drops her knife with a clatter, frustrated at Ruby’s inquisition, “Just one. A five year old daughter. His wife died three and a half years ago of cancer.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret breathes, “he sounds wonderful! And it’s so romantic that you stayed up all night just kissing and talking. What a gentleman! I hope you’ll stay in touch.”

Emma shakes her head, “He wanted to. Gave me his information. But I threw it away.”

Mary Margaret gasps in shock, and even Ruby thinks she’s crazy, but Elsa is the cold voice of reason.

“I think Emma is wise to break it off now. He’s a grieving widower with a child. Emma has a child of her own. Not to mention that long-distance relationships never work.”

“What was he doing in New York?” Mary Margaret asks, ignoring Elsa’s cold logic.

“A job interview,” Emma answers, “he didn’t really get into the details.”

“See,” Mary Margaret tells Elsa smugly.

“See what?” Elsa scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “It’s still long-distance. Emma needs to use her head.”

“She needs to follow her heart,” argues Mary Margaret.

“I was thinking of an organ a little farther south,” quips Ruby.

“And I would appreciate you all dropping the entire subject,” Emma huffs in frustration.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers urgently, “there he is!”

Emma glances behind her, and sure enough, Killian is sitting at a table on the other side of the room. He’s perusing the menu, so he hasn’t noticed her yet. Emma quickly turns back around.

“Yep,” Ruby says with a nod, “just as hot as I remembered.”

Elsa narrows her eyes as she takes him in, “Actually, Emma, on second thought, maybe using your head in this situation isn’t the best course of action.”

Mary Margaret nudges Emma’s arm, “Go on, go talk to him. Give him your number!”

Emma stands quickly, hands shaking, and tosses some bills onto the table. “That should cover my order. I’ll see you all in Storybrooke.”

Emma then walks as quickly as she can for the hotel exit, ignoring her friends protests. She purposely keeps her head forward, not wanting to see the look of hurt in Killian’s eyes as she walks away. Or the look of indifference.

She isn’t sure which would be worse. Either way, it’s why she doesn’t turn around.

************************************************************

A week later, Emma is enjoying her favorite lunch of grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny’s. The buzz around town is that Mayor Mills finally hired a new harbor master, and whoever it is just rolled into town in a black extended cab truck with just a few suitcases and boxes in the back. The type of vehicle combined with the small amount of personal effects has every single woman in town speculating that it’s a bachelor. Emma just rolls her eyes at the gossip. The only thing she cares about is how the harbor master does his or her job, since it directly affects hers as sheriff.

Emma is licking the last drop of cheese from her pinkie finger when a little girl scrambles onto the stool next to her. She’s wearing a tunic shirt covered in daisies over a pair of yellow leggings. Disney princess shoes adorn her feet, the kind that light up when you walk. She has to kneel on the stool so she can reach the counter.

“One chocolate milkshake please,” the little girl tells Granny in an adorable British accent.

Emma and Granny both raise their eyes, looking around the diner for the child’s parents. Emma catches Granny’s eye, and the older woman nods.

“You’re a little young to be ordering all by yourself,” Emma says gently, tipping her head so she can look the child in the eye. “How old are you, kid?”

“Would you believe ten?”

Emma suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head.

“Eight?” the child sighs as Emma once again shakes her head. “Okay, I’m five.”

Emma nods. She wants to get information, and she knows the best way to do that is to play it cool, “So where are your parents?”

The little girl sighs, bites her lip, and then leans closer to Emma, “Okay, see, my dad said we would come here for lunch today. I want a milkshake, but Dad always says no. That I have to eat my lunch first. But I don’t want lunch. Can’t the milkshake be my lunch?”

"So you got here early so you could have the milkshake before he saw you.”

The little girl’s face brightens, and when she smiles dimples appear on her freckled cheeks. “Exactly!”

Emma leans forward, “The problem is, I’m a mom, so I’m not going to let you either.”

The little girl scowls and crosses her arms, “But you’re not my mum.”

“But you do need money, kid,” Granny tells the child gruffly.

The little girl swivels on her stool to face Granny, reaching smugly into the pocket of her tunic. She pulls out a ten dollar bill with a flourish and smacks it down onto the counter. “Will that cover it?”

Emma’s hand flies to her mouth as she suppresses her laughter. This kid is the most precocious, sassy little thing she’s ever seen. Once Emma has composed herself, she leans over the counter towards the child and speaks to her sternly. “You know what else I am besides a mom, kid? The sheriff of this town.” The little girl’s eyes grow large. “Where did you get that money?”

The child quirks one dark eyebrow and tilts her chin defiantly. “My allowance.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, kid. I have this gift – we’ll call it a super power – I can tell when people are lying to me. So I’ll ask you again. Where’d you get the money?”

The little girl sighs and lowers her head, “My dad’s wallet.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Haley.”

Emma feels as if the room is suddenly spinning. She blinks and looks the little girl over. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, British accent. It couldn’t be . . .

“Haley Elizabeth Jones!” another British voice calls out from the door of the diner. Emma’s jaw drops as Killian Jones himself rushes towards her. But he doesn’t even see Emma, too intent on his little girl who he hugs tightly to his chest. “Bloody hell, lass, you just took ten years off my life! Never, never, wander away like that!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Haley mumbles against Killian’s neck as she throws her little arms around him. Killian pulls away and looks her over, running a hand over his little girl’s hair and over her shoulder as if she might be hurt. Haley sheepishly takes the ten dollar bill and hands it to him. “I took the money from your wallet, too. I’m sorry. The sheriff lady caught me.”

Killian finally turns towards Emma then and blinks rapidly as if he’s seen a ghost. “Swan?”

“Killian,” Emma breathes, her hand fluttering to the pale mark still on her neck. The way they’re grinning at each other like idiots and blushing like fools, you would think they had actually had sex. “What are you – what are you doing here?”

“I got the job,” he explains, “the one I was telling you about.”

“You mean, you’re the new harbor master?” Killian nods and Emma shakes her head in confusion. “But your interview was in New York.”

“Mayor Mills had some business there anyway, and she thought travel would be easier for me from London. I thought the change would be good for Haley. Living in a small town and all.”

They just stand there staring at each other until Haley pipes up. “The sheriff says she’s a mum too, Daddy,” Haley takes Emma’s hands in hers and looks at them intently. “But she doesn’t have a wedding ring. Are you married, sheriff lady?”

“No, sweetie,” Emma says with a mirthful smile, “I’m not married.”

“That’s great! My daddy isn’t married either, and I need a mum!”

“Okaaaay,” Killian chuckles nervously as he scoops Haley up into his arms. He turns to Emma blushing furiously, “I’m gonna get this lass home. And then I’m gonna dig myself a really deep hole and crawl into it.”

He scratches behind his ear with his free hand as he turns towards the door, still carrying Haley. Mary Margaret’s voice is suddenly in Emma’s head, chirping on about fate and destiny, which propels Emma off her stool.

“Killian, wait.”

He turns towards her, that lopsided grin of his on his face.

“I know how it is unpacking. I was thinking Henry and I could stop by later with a couple of pizzas.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Swan. That’s very hospitable of you.”

Okay, she’s going to have to be far more direct. “I was hoping Henry and I could eat with the two of you. We could consider it our second unconventional date.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back, “this thing we started; may as well see where it goes, right?”

Hope sparkles in Killian’s eyes. “Right. See you tonight, Swan.”

Behind the counter, Granny can’t hold her laughter back any longer when Haley pumps her little fist into the air and crows, “YES! I’m getting a mum!”

It turns out the little girl was right. Eight months later, Haley Jones has a mum and Henry Swan Jones has a dad. Turns out Mary Margaret was right all along: there’s nothing hopeless about being a romantic.

#cs ff #self promos sunday #cs modern au #single parent emma #single parent killian #one night stand #sort of

65 notes · View notes

ohmy7hearts · 4 years

Text

promises and dreams are just falsified hope

when the sky kisses the earth: 2

Summary: Familiar setting, different atmosphere. Your mind is filled with the death of your brother. So Eren imposed a dream into your heart.

Pairings: Eren Yeager x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, for now.

A/N: I actually stuck to the once per week timeline thing. wow, good job me.

Fist met your jaw. You flung backwards. Back skidding across the ground and eyes meeting the sky.

Well isn't this my lucky day.

The pain pulsating from your jaw rendered you frozen, sprawled on the ground with no intention to move.

Not like you can. The next moment found you breathless and literally wheezing.

Eren groaned, trying to grasp onto the nearest surface to sit up. When his hands met something substantial but not entirely hard, he didn't think twice about it and immediately sat himself up to throw some remarks at Reiner.

"Woah Eren, easy up on the touching. We're in public, you know?" Reiner smirked, his voice carrying over the training grounds and bored, tired gazes darted to Eren.

Eren gave his trademark huh. His head was still trying to regain some semblance of normality - hand supporting his head in an attempt to ease the tension - but the crowd grew wild. People whistled and clamoured in approval. His head pounded more with the increasing attention and noise surrounding him.

"Can you please get your hands off me?" You murmured. "It's getting painful."

At your voice, he whipped his head towards you, meeting your half-lidded eyes but showing no sign of emotions, as if you were asking him to pass you something out of reach. His head then whipped to the other side.

His supporting hand was on your thigh. His eyes widened in disbelief. Too close. His ears burned. It was lodged in between your hips and thighs and he could feel the pelvic bone underneath. But with his considerably large hands, his thumb is dangerously close -

Hands grabbed onto the front of his shirt. He had whiplash from how fast his point of view changed - now facing a pissed off Jean - and his legs dangled uselessly before he was shaken to reality by said boy. His feet sunk into the ground, facing Jean with an equally annoyed expression.

"What the hell is your problem?" Eren snarked.

"Huh?" Jean's face morphed into a sickly fake smile, scorning. "I should be asking you that!" He shook Eren vigorously - his head looking like it was almost dislocated from his neck - and chalking his headache up to 100 times worse.

Anger fueling his dazed mind, he grabbed onto the hands, twisting it, before pushing Jean backwards. Jean fell on his ass from the sudden force. Similarly, Eren found himself in a similar - yet more compromising - position.

The air in your body expelled so suddenly when his body slammed into you yet again. Pain bloomed from where most of Eren's weight laid. But it was gone as soon as it came.

Landing much more softly than he anticipated, his mind reeled back to his earlier predicament. His face erupting in embarrassment. He scrambled to his feet.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Kneeling by your side, Eren wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders to support you into a sitting position. His eyes checking your face for a reply of sort or any fleeting emotion other than pain.

He could hear the crowd busting in more cheers at his actions. But he tuned them out on instinct. Worry had him zeroing in on you, senses heightened to pick up even the slightest motion.

"Just fine," You winced. "Another day of training."

Before he could ask you further, an imposing voice interrupted them. "Jaeger, care to explain?"

Spine straightening as habit and eyes darting to the glare of his instructor, Eren gulped. Heart pounding in his chest and sweat collected under his bangs. This looks so wrong no matter how he tried to explain it.

"Just a small accident sir. Eren landed on me when he too was thrown back by his partner." You answered. His eyes returning to yours which are closed with eyebrows furrowing. You shook your head, trying to shake off the pounding headache but it made it worse, then revealed the orbs underneath. Eyes meeting his. His breath hitched.

Using the hand gently in yours, you pushed yourself up with Eren being your crutch. With that quick movement, a mind-numbing pain erupted from your midsection, buckling your knees and Eren quickly stood to ensure you didn't fall. His hands go to your waist, guiding you to lean your weight on him.

"Jaeger, bring her to the infirmary. Dismissed." With a flurry, he turned, glaring at all the gawking cadets, prompting them to leap back into training with enthusiasm.

“Come on, it’ll be faster if I carry you instead.” Just like that, you found yourself in a familiar situation - a reflection of your predicament a few weeks ago.

You sighed in disbelief, a smile tugging at your lips, and just like that day, you relented. Climbing over his back and wrapping your arms around him. “We should stop meeting like this.”

“Technically, we meet each other every day,” he chuckled and you landed a half-hearted hit on his shoulder. “But what’s wrong with us ending up like this?”

You wound your body closer to him, voice dropping a few octaves while you breathed it into his ear, “I may start to depend on you a little too much.” A shudder ran through his body. Goosebumps appeared on his skin and the hands around your thighs tightened. You giggled, burying your nose into his neck.

“You can’t just do that,” Eren’s voice was strained as if it was hard enough to think of those words much less to say them into existence.

You gave a half-hearted hum as one of your hands crawled to the back of his head, playing with the ends of his hair, cheek planting onto his shoulder. It was silent as you both continued on your path to the infirmary.

Your eyes roamed over his features. Those teal eyes were beautiful and the steely gaze which reflected his determination sharpened it to look like jewels - you’ve never seen them but with how people described them to be something otherworldly eye-catching and something even money can’t buy, you believe Eren’s eyes were a clear depiction of them. His drive intrigued you and lit a fire within you but when you found out the reason why he’s fighting to begin with, the story pulled on your heartstrings. It was like looking into a mirror whereby it would present the best version of yourself.

And you wondered if he feared anything.

“Hmm? My biggest fear?” Eren spoke. “Losing to the titans.”

“So death?” Hand still playing with his luscious locks.

“No.” The resolve in his voice hardened and your gaze flickered from your hands to his face. “Losing more to them. Like maybe having my friends die in their hands or more of them breaking down the walls, driving us to a corner like a herd of cows before slaughter.” Your heart skipped a beat, hands stopped playing with his hair and all your attention on the boy before you. “I don’t want to die before I kill all those titans. I refuse to.”

You frowned, heart dropping to your stomach and eyes burning with incoming tears, “That’s what my brother said as well. And he died. Some things are fated to happen, you know?”

Eren looked at you, as best as could in the position you both were in, trying to decipher and unravel all your thoughts and emotions because all he could see was a girl trying to keep everything in in the wake of a death of a family you longed to see. He never understood it much when people keep their emotions under wraps, he was always one to confront them head-on. So he cried when his heart was heavy, got angry when his blood boiled, laughed when his body felt light with mirth despite what people claimed he should do. But he wanted to understand. Especially if it meant helping you.

Eren set you down on the infirmary bed, eyes searching for the nurse stationed there but once he came out empty-handed, his gaze landed on you - hands trembling in your laps and eyes vacant, clearly swarmed with the thoughts in your head.

You snapped out of the war in your mind when warm hands enclosed both of yours. Eyes meeting teal. “You know, there’s a land made of ice somewhere beyond the walls.”

“Huh?”

“Even water filled with so much salt that the merchants can’t collect it. Imagine that!” Eren’s grin lifted his eyes to a close. “It was actually Armin’s dream but hearing him talk about it makes me want to see it for myself. The flaming water, snowy fields of sand and everything else that waits for us on the other side of the walls. Freedom!” His hold on you tightened, eyes hardening but smile bright as ever. It sent a jolt down your spine and your breath quickened. “You can come too! See the world with us. Be free.”

Your heart quickened, toes curling. “You want me to come with you? To live your dream? To see… this world? Together?”

He nodded, fingers now intertwining, his smile widening. You frowned, thoughts consuming you, blocking the words stuck in your throat.

“I can’t.” You saw him visibly deflate before your eyes were quick enough to fall to your hands. Hands which are much slacker and the wind passing between your fingers and his biting on the skin. “I can’t promise you that.”

“It’s not a promise.” His voice never wavered, hands now grasping your wrist, prompting you to look up at him. “It’s a dream; a goal. Something to work towards and you know, make life worth living.”

“What’s the difference?” You scoffed, tired and worn out and hollowed.

“Because it’s fate. Like you said, some things are fated to happen, right? Dreams are like fate, guiding us somewhere.”

Your mind told you to run the other way and never interact with him anymore because he’s danger reincarnated. But your heart yearns for his warmth and to believe him so you did.

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger imagine #eren yaeger #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger imagine #rslwrites #rslcreates #when the sky kisses the earth #eren x reader

78 notes · View notes

calliecat93 · 3 years

Text

Well didn’t get this done before Chapter Five came out, but I’m still MUCH more caught up than I had been. Good thing they’re going on a six week break here soon since that’ll not only let me catch my barrings... but let my soul have a break, GOOD GOD THESE PAST TWO CHAPTERS HIT HARD!As far this specific chapter goes... boy I did not expect me to shock me as much as it did. So w\let’s not waste anymore time and jump right into it.

Overview

Robyn is recalling a story about Joanna in prison, but neither Jaques or Qrow are all that into. But she does manage to get Qrow to finally smile, as well as notice him still holding Clover’s badge. She apologizes for what happened, which lets Qrow vent about the entire fiasco and how for the first time in so long, it felt like he had made a connection without having to fear his Semblance ruining it. Robyn... actually understands, herself having been ostracized due to her lie detecting Semblance making people fear her revealing their secrets. Harriet and Marrow enter, throwing Watts ack into his cell. Harriet doesn’t believe Qrow declaring his innocence, even when Robyn offers to use her Semblance. Robyn also calls Harriet out on essentially blaming others and not caring about the truth since it’s easier for her to not accept her own blame. Before Harriet can act, Marrow stops her and the speedster storms off/

Back in the tundra, JYR are still giving chase to The Hound, Jaune even launching Ren at it. It doesn’t work and The Hound even calls for backup, summoning more Grimm. It leads to a giant chase sequence, including a new song that IDT has a title yet, but it is dark as Hell. The chase ends with two of the bikes being destroyed, Yang and Jaune almost falling over a cliff until Ren uses his grappling features to save them, and the three are forced to watch as The Hound escapes with Oscar in it’s clutches. Back up in Atlas, RWBNM have gone to, surprisingly, the Schnee Manor to lay low and tend to Nora. Whitley is less than pleased, especially with what Weiss did not even 24 hours ago in-show, but Weiss makes it clear that they’re not leaving and she sends him to his room. As Weiss and May tend to Nora, Blake sees Ruby worried about the others. She suggests that Ruby can still call Yang... but there’s one problem, Ruby already did.

JYR are out of signal range, forcing them to make their way back to Mantle on-foot. During the trek however, Ren’s closed up attitude is flaring up, which eventually causes Yang to get on his case. Ren i9s frustrated due to not just losing Oscar, but everything that has happened. Losing the Relics, Ironwood’s betrayal, the current Grimm attack with Salem just outside the doorstep. Even with yang pointing out their accomplishments and admitting that they have made mistakes but still pulled through, Ren’s anger flares as he points out that they are WAY in over their heads. Jaune tries to calm them both down, but Ren continues to point to how Ruby is leading them despite still being a kid, he himself is an orphan form the middle of nowhere, and the biggest shock is him getting after Jaune for forging his way into Beacon. This shocks everyone, even Ren himself, but Jaune simply says that he’s getting out of the cold and walks on. Yang asks if Ren just wats to push everyone away before following, leaving Ren shocked and upset.

Meanwhile... oh boy, this scene. Oscar wakes up and standing right across from him is Salem. She addresses Ozma and how long it’s been since she’s seen him and... yeah it’s pretty unsettling. Oscar tries to act like Oz, but Salem sees right through it and tries to get Oscar to give her answers. He genuinely doesn’t know where the Beacon Relic is, so Salem tries to get the password to the Lamp out. When he tries to use the ‘out of questions’ ploy... Salem uses her magic to... magically torture him... yeah it’s... rough. Oscar still doesn’t talk, so Salem brings out Hazel... you know, the guy who hayes Oz probably more than anyone and has sworn to kill him? Yeah...

Cinder meets with Salem, taken back by The Hound which Salem calls an experiment. Cinder again tries to convince her to let her go after Penny, but Salem again orders her to stay put. Cinder agrees... well, verbally anyways. But she knows that the heroes are likely going to still try and launch Amity, so sh decides to go for the Maiden Power anyways. Neo is less than thrilled with this plan, but Cinder has another person willing to help her: Emerald.

Back in the tundra, JYR have found shelter for the night and Jaune admits that Ren is correct about how he cheated his way into Beacon. But he’s since realized that he was above his mistake and tries to convince Ren to not push them out, knowing fully well how all that it does is hurt you more. If it did any good, Ren doesn’t show it as he goes to sit outside. Yang has found a part to fix the bike and also assures Jaune that she knows that he worked hard to get to where he is now. She starts working on the part before asking Jaune if ‘she’ thinks any less of her. Jaune, assuming that she means Ruby, assures her that they’re sisters and will be fine... but Yang was talking about a certain cat girl. Our episode ends here... but not before showing us the ice nearby beginning to crack... thanks a lot CRWBY!

Review

Like I said in the intro, I didn’t expect this chapter to shock me like it did. Did I expect intensity? Of course, especially after the last chapter? Did I expect what we got? Nope, but it was perfect!

Let’s talk about Ren first. Ever since last volume, it’s been clear that he’s been unraveling. He wasn’t engaging in Nora’s antics anymore, was more closed up than usual, seemed in agreement with Ironwood at one point, and of course his mini-breakdown in the finale Not even Nora and him kissing helped, heck considering what happened after it only seemed to make him worse. Even now he’s at serious odds with Nora for the first time since childhood, something that is clearly bothering him despite him keeping it to the chest. He’s trying to keep his focus on his duty, but with everything going more and more wrong, the facade is not only shattering, but the cracks are causing him to push those close to him away.

His argument with Yang was a tense moment. I like it though. Not only for more unique character dynamics, but out of every character Yang will lay it out as it is. If Ren’s going to have an attitude problem, then she will call it out and not give a damn about the reason why. Since Nora can’t get though to him, the harsher approach is kind of the only thing left. Ren’s breakdown was hard to watch... and he is right to an extent. They are in over their heads. Their decision, even if the right one morally, is creating more problems and endanger more lives. Ruby is still a kid and she’s placed far too much on herself. I think he is underestimating himself and the others about not being ready, but his concerns are completely understandable and he has some good, if harsh, points.

But then he brings up Jaune cheating his way into beacon. Yeah, been a while since that came up, huh? I actually gasped when that came up. While Ren clearly didn’t mean for that to come out, the fact that he did when pointing out that they’re way over their heads does display at least some doubts he has about his leader. JNR have grown close over the past few volumes, Ren and Nora essentially considering Jaune family by the time of Volume 6. So hearing this was hard, especially since all that Jaune was doing was trying to calm him and Yang down.

I do, however, like how Jaune reacted. Back in the early volumes, he likely would have taken it as a blow to his confidence and gotten huffy about it. Now? While the blow clearly stung, he keeps himself in check and keeps focus on finding shelter. Then once there, he outright admits that Ren’s right and tries to comfort him. He tries to advise him on opening up and how closing yourself off doesn’t help. Considering that he tried this both in V1 when we found out how he cheated and after Pyrrha died and only getting better when he allowed others to help, he absolutely knows how Ren feels. But the fat that he handled this so maturely and tried to help his friend instead of get angsty about it shows how much he’s grown. It’s really nice to see.

Now let’s talk about Weiss and Whitley. So this got some... mixed reception. Some were upset about Weiss pointing her weapon and Whitley and her general harsh behavior towards him this chapter. Now I do understand the first part since I was similarly annoyed at Yang for threatening Qrow in Volume Six when all that he was trying to do was be reasonable about the Lamp. It was likely too harsh, but in farness Weis sis not only trying to help save the kingdom, but one of her teammates is in critical condition and she has no time for Whitley to be angry at her. The Manor is the safest place at the moment, and she needs to get Nora care now. Not saying it’s a justification, but it isn’t her being mean for the sake of it either.

But even so... guys I’m sorry, but do you seriously expect Weiss to suddenly forgive and coddle Whitley this soon? After years of him belittling her and rubbing his success in her face while she was punished, not to mention seeming more concerned about the family reputation than the current conflict? I’m sorry , but it’s not that simple. Yes, Whitley is also a victim who was manipulated and groomed by his father and unlike Weiss, he was never able to get a proper support system or have any family to help like how Weiss had Winter. I do feel bad for him, and I do think that Weiss will take her mother’s words form the last volume and will help Whitley later in the volume. But they’ve both hurt each other. Whitley by treating Weiss badly, and Weiss not giving him support like she was given. They’re both victims AND hurt each other. Some try to paint it as one is problematic and the other is an innocent child, and that’s simply untrue. They’re only going to realize that if and when they talk out their problems with each other out, it’s just a matter of when it’ll be. It takes time to mend these kinds of things, sadly.

Next is the villains scene... ho boy. So I’m gonna wait on Cinder for the next chapter, but her ignoring Salem in favor of power isn’t a shock at all. No, let’s discuss Oscar. Just... this poor, poor kid. He’s trying to be brave, but seeing him get tortured and especially the screaming?! Aaron Dismuke, why do this to me you jerk?! I do admire him for trying it imitate Oz and keep his composure, but it was just so... brutal to watch. Salem doing it so calmly and being perfectly willing to wait for the answers since she can just make Oscar suffer is... well, evil. And don’t think I missed her with the shadow versions of her daughters. Some say that humanizes her, but since she remorsefully tortured a child and sicked an emotionally unstable brute to physically harm him without a care in the world... no. It didn’t excuse Ironwood, and it sure as Hell isn’t excusing Salem. Tis just makes her all the more terrifying.

Okay... last thing is that scene at the end. The Bumblebee implication scene. So... I won’t lie it did annoy me at first. Before anyone says anything, it was NOT because of hating the ship or anything stupid like that. I’m not a huge Bumblebee fan, but anyone who keeps saying there’s nothing there at this point is living in denial. It’s happening people and since at least Volume 6, I think they’ve been doing it pretty well. My issue is mainly just because... we’ve had plenty of Bumblebee content. Volume 7 had them together in pretty much every scene, and I just don’t like having a pair of characters limited like that. I had the same issue with Renora, especially in Volumes 1-3, and with shipping in general. The main reason though is that I want there to be some more focus on Ruby and Yang because I feel like it’s been a long time and that there is a genuine conflict between them that can bring some interesting things for both. I’m not saying they need to be at each other’s throats, but siblings DO argue and no, it doesn’t always get easily resolved and I am speaking form experience here. To be fair it could happen later and Ruby herself hasn’t been pondering on it that much either. Heck Blake seemed more concerned about it than either of them have. But I would like to see more than just the one pair that I’ve already seen focused on plenty of times because it’s limiting. That’s just a personal thing though and I’ve always enjoyed sibling stuff more than romance, so yeah just a me thing.

That being said, those saying that Yang doesn’t care about Ruby need to calm down. No, that is NO the case. Did we forget Yang trying to console a broke Ruby despite her own grief just last volume? Mere hours ago in-show at that? Despite what I said above and while she’s clearly concerned after Ruby’s recent choices, Yang still loves and ultimately trusts her sister. She never said that she didn’t think that Ruby would fail or was wasting her time, she just felt like Mantle needed them more and the consequences to trying were too much. Heck this is a spoiler, but considering her reaction in the next chapter, it only reinforces that belief. At least with Blake, this is the first time they’ve willingly split apart and Yang clearly still has some abandonment issues and concerns. Plus... yeah, it’s natural when you have feelings for someone to worry if they made a bad choice that may make them doubt them. Blake won’t, but it’s understandable. Heck, Blake was clearly concerned about Yang when trying to get Ruby to call. I think she was trying to comfort Ruby as well with the suggestion, but it was still pretty evident... also Ruby and Blake interaction, yay! Still yeah guys, let’s just... chill a little bit and see what more comes of anything.

Okay, got that out of my system, and I apologize if it came across wrong. Whatever annoyance I had I’m over anyways, especially after the recent chapter. Anyways, the chapter had so much good. Plus we not only had a badass chase sequence, but a new song! Again, IDK the title, but it was another banger for sure. The opening scene with row and Robyn bonding and Robyn calling out Harriet was great. Marrow’s subtle expressions showing how not okay he is, and I’m seriously hoping that he may be the one to free the others. It would be a really good move for his character in him deciding that being lawful doesn’t equal the right thing, and making it right especially considering his interaction with Robyn last volume. The animation was good with the backgrounds looking fantastic, the pacing has been on fire, and of course that ominous ending. God they’re trying to keep us on edge, and I love it!

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Lie Ren Favorite Scene: Ren losing it in the tundra Least Favorite Scene: Probably the wrong term, but seeing Oscar be tortured while well done was hard. Favorite Voice Actor: Neath Oum (Ren Favorite Animation: JYR chasing The Hound Rating: 9.9/10

Final Thoughts

This was fantastic, especially in the character department. I haven’t been this shocked in a good while. It hurt no doubt, but the writing and voice performances were so well done. Seriously, this is probably Neath’s best performance to date. Add in the great animation, the tone being on point, and the set-ups with the Schnee Manor and cracking ice and the fact that this is only Chapter Four is crazy. But it’s only going to get crazier people... oh so, so much crazier. Only one review to go until I’m back to being caught up... my poor heart XD

#rwby #rwby8 #rwby spoilers #rwby reviews #rwby musings #callie reviews

6 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Burned Part 25

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 25: The happy life of a little family together

Teddy Solomons’ first word, thankfully, was not ‘fuck’. Alfie was certain that if that word had slipped out of the baby’s mouth, he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as his wife ever again. What was more surprising was what he actually did say because Alfie certainly wasn't expecting it.

Alfie was entertaining the baby while Louise peacefully read in the parlor. He held Teddy up on his lap, making faces to make him laugh and shriek with glee. It amazed Alfie how easy it was to make Teddy happy. Sometimes all it took was crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue to make the baby erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Da!” Teddy squealed and reached to tug on Alfie’s beard, one of his favorite past times as of late.

Louise looked over the top of her book. “Did he just say what I think he said?” She perked up in surprise.

“Just gibberish.” Her husband shook his head and wrote it off as nothing. “Babbling on as usual, aye?” He teased and wiggled Teddy’s toes. "Speaking your own little language?"

He giggled and pulled a bit harder on his father's beard. “Dada!” He chirped again.

Louise stood up, setting her book aside, and walked over. “Alfie, he’s saying dada.” She insisted.

Alfie wasn’t sure how old children were when they took certain milestones. Ollie had given him an estimate but all of his kids ranged from early to late bloomers so it was hard to say for sure. Time seemed to pass by so fast as Teddy grew so it seemed far too early for the baby to be saying any intelligent words. “It’s an easy sound for him to make, I’m sure it’s just nonsense.”

“You don’t think he’s smart enough to be speaking yet?” She challenged and put her hands on her hips.

He made a face at her remark. “He’s me son, innit he? That means he’s fucking smart.” He asserted. “Ted, who’s that?” He tested out the theory by pointing at Louise. Teddy giggled and mimicked his father pointing but didn’t say anything.

“Who’s that, love?” Louise pointed back at Alfie.

“Dada!” He responded and beamed as if he knew exactly how substantial his first word was.

She looked smug with herself. “Told you.”

“I stand corrected then.” Alfie chuckled and gently patted Teddy on the back. Pride bloomed in his chest. He was his son's very first word. It made him feel more important than anything else he'd ever done in his life. “Fucking bright as can be, innit he?”

“Hush, you can’t swear around him anymore because he’ll start to pick up on it!” She reminded him. But it was hard to be stern, Louise was also pleased to hear Teddy address Alfie first. She wanted him to know how important he was to the little boy.

“Sorry, love. Right, gotta start biting my tongue.” He couldn’t get the great big smile off his face though and eventually just began to laugh. However, mid-way through, his chest seized and he erupted in a coughing fit.

It was hard to forget about their reality for too long. Although Alfie was in good spirits and was able to stay fairly active, there was always something reminding them of his cancer. The frequent headaches that never seemed to end. The deep ache he felt in his body every morning and every night. He became out of breath often and sometimes became light-headed from how severe his coughing fits were.

Louise picked up Teddy from his lap and sat him down on the rug for a moment. “It’s okay, try to breathe slowly.” She soothed

Alfie’s face turned red and stood up to walk out of the room, staggering a few steps. More often than not, his violent coughing upset Teddy and he couldn’t have that. He wasn't sure what his son would remember of him, but he certainly didn't want his only memories of him to be a coughing bout. Alfie walked into the foyer and put a hand on the stair railing to steady himself. After a painful few moments, he managed to get the coughing under control. He took a few wheezing breaths and looked up.

Louise stood in the doorway with Teddy in her arms. The little boy didn’t seem upset and merely toyed with his mother’s curls. “Okay?” She asked softly.

Alfie nodded and cleared his throat once more. “Sorry, love.”

“Don’t apologize.” She walked over and touched his cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for something beyond your control.” It made her ache knowing there was little to nothing she could do to ease his pain. She felt as if she were failing as a wife.

He smiled weakly and leaned into her touch. “Just wish you didn’t have to see me like that.”

She sat down on the stairs and gestured for him to sit beside her. Setting Teddy on his lap, she gently stroked her husband’s hair back. “Remember when I said I never wanted you to change? I want you just the way you are. This isn’t you but it’s something you’re fighting. You don’t need to try to shield me from the difficult parts. Whatever you’re fighting, I’m right there beside you.”

“Dada.” Teddy cooed and wrapped his little fingers around Alfie’s white shirt.

Alfie kissed the top of his son’s head and then his wife’s cheek. “Can’t imagine going through any of this without you two.” His voice was still ragged from coughing. “You keep me going.”

There was no telling how much time Alfie had left. Doctor Stephens said there was a good chance he’d have a few years but warned him to be wary of his health. But seeing Teddy make such milestones made Alfie happy and just a hint more optimistic than he had been before his birth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, a warm June evening, Alfie and Louise went for a walk. Teddy was fast asleep upstairs and would most likely be asleep a few hours before he woke up for a nappy change or to nurse.

Alfie was in a good deal of pain and tried to cope by walking through it. Most nights it was hard to just stay lying awake in bed. At least when he was walking outside he could forget about the pain and focus on something else other than the ceiling.

They walked along the grounds together, arm in arm with Alfie holding a lantern to light their usual path past the stables and around the pastures.

“Can’t believe it’s already summer,” Louise commented. The night was alive with all sorts of insects beginning their nightly symphony. A warm breeze kicked up the scent of the roses that were just beginning to bloom. It was heavenly and managed to distract them from everything even just for a little while.

“Can’t believe Teddy’ll be one in the fall.” He agreed. The year had passed by far too quickly in his eyes. It seemed only yesterday he was holding his son for the very first time after he was born.

“We’ll have to throw a party for him. Wouldn’t it be nice to have everyone over here? Some could stay for the weekend, his birthday’s on a Friday.” She smiled.

“That would be lovely, yeah. I mean for fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I’d last this long.” He admitted. “On borrowed time, ain’t I?”

“No,” She shook her head and reached for his hand, threading her fingers with his. “You’re here for a reason. We’re together for a reason and we’ve Teddy for a reason.” She murmured softly and squeezed his hand lightly. “I don’t know what the reason is but I won’t question it. You make me happy and I think that’s reason enough.”

He smiled and lifted her hand up to kiss her knuckles. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine going about his life without meeting Louise. He used to have some semblance of a master plan involving the bakery and his other various business ventures. He’d finally put Darby Sabini out of commission and rule a bigger piece of London. But with plans like that, he was sure he would never truly be satisfied. With Louise and Teddy, he had everything he needed. He didn’t need more from them; all he needed was to see their faces each and every day.

“Do you think I’m right?” Louise asked curiously.

“You’re my wife, you’re always right, love.” He grinned and stopped to kiss her.

“One day you’re going to wake up in Inglewood, next to your wife. Your son or daughter will run into the room to wake you up and beg for you to come and play with them.”

Louise was usually right; Alfie had learned that in both positive and negative ways. Alfie liked when she was right because it gave him a sort of comfort for the future. She reassured him that he would continue living and that he would be there to experience his son growing up. He saw Teddy’s first birthday, then his second, and was gearing up to see his third as well. He was there, kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched as Teddy took his first steps. He heard Teddy call Louise ‘mumma’. Heard him call Cyril, Cee-Cee. Watched him grow taller and start to walk and run without falling over.

Alfie felt so blessed and every morning he was reminded how great it was to wake up and find himself where he was. Louise was asleep beside him, her arm outstretched and hand lingering on his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning, Teddy came toddling into the room, going right for his father’s side of the bed. Alfie was always up before Louise was, mostly because of his previous habits of waking early for work and because of the ache in his body that kept him up. But he was never too tired for Teddy.

“Dada.” The little boy whispered, well aware that his mother was still sleeping.

“There you are, already awake?” Alfie reached over and scooped Teddy up, letting him sit on his chest. “Don’t want to sleep in, aye?”

“No.” He giggled and grabbed at his feet, pressing his heels together and rocking back and forth.

Alfie held him steady. “What’s on the agenda today, then?” He asked softly. “Take a drive somewhere?”

“Ponies!”

“Sh, sh, mumma’s still asleep.” He whispered and motioned for him to be quiet.

Teddy mimicked the finger to his lips and giggled. “Shhhhh…”

Louise turned over and began to stir.

“Uh oh, Ted, we’ve done it now.” Alfie grinned.

“What’ve you done?” She mumbled with her eyes still closed.

“Mummy!” Teddy squealed and wriggled off Alfie to greet her. He burrowed under the quilt and cuddled close to her. “Mumma, ponies.”

Louise yawned and wrapped her arms around her son, pulling him close to her chest like a little teddy bear. “It’s a bit early to see the ponies, love.” She murmured, still half asleep.

“Mumma, sleep,” Teddy whispered and placed a pudgy hand over her eyes.

She laughed softly and took his hand to kiss it. “Just for a little longer. Then we’ll have breakfast before going outside.” She promised.

Alfie leaned on his elbow to watch mother and son cuddle close. Such an undeniable bond that made him relieved. Even after he was gone, they would still have that connection. No matter what happened to him, they would both have each other long after he passed. “C’mere.” He murmured and drew them both close to him, wrapping them up in his arms as a protective cocoon. He could’ve remained in that moment forever and be eternally happy. Hearing both of their soft inhales and exhales, faintly feeling their heartbeats, and enveloped in their warmth. They were just a small speck in the world, a small bit of dust in the grand scheme of things. But at that moment, Alfie felt like he was embracing the entire world, holding it in his arms and keeping it safe. Because they were the only two things that mattered on the planet as far as he was concerned.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434

Tag list: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy character #fluff

78 notes · View notes

cowtale-utau · 4 years

Note

I said I would invade at some point. Listing each prompt wouldn't fit in the box, so could I ask for number 12, 16, 37, 40, and 52 from WII for Doc? And Aurum, too. Not poly. Oh, but I don't mind if you want to include Viridis with Aurum's prompts; I know you like to put those two as part of a poly. Thank you!

Good to see you!

12 S/O is accident prone

Doc – At first he's startled every time you run into something or trip or knock something over. He scolds you over while checking you for injury, fussing over every scrape and bruise. But give it awhile and he doesn't really relax so much as find a more “effective” method. I hope you aren't magic adverse, because you'll experience his a lot. Stumble and you find gravity is much kinder, and purple tinted. Knock something over and it never hits the ground before righting itself. He hardly even thinks about anymore, it's a trained reaction at this point. He rarely even has to look up. You still get a lot of long suffering sighs and flat stares, but it's all good natured.

Aurum – This man is an ass. He will let you get used to a layout and then shift things by six inches, just to watch you bounce of it. Of course he always makes sure you aren't injured, and helps keep you from breaking anything important or meaningful. But just general tripping or stumbles. Breaking yet another hideous vase someone gave you? Hilarious. Vir tries to put things back after Aur moves them, but it's a constant battle, and you are unfortunately in the middle of it. Little known fact, Vir is a damn clever prankster, and knows how to make himself look completely innocent. Ask him to help with revenge and it'll be weeks before Aur is brave enough to screw with either of you again.

16 S/O is tall (so for this one, despite my “relative” heights, I figured I'd make you taller than Doc, and around the same height as Aur, just for funsies)

Doc – Despite accusations, Doc doesn't have a Napoleon Complex in the traditional sense. He's very confident and does not feel the need to lie or exaggerate. He does brag, and loudly, but is also more than capable of backing it up at a moments notice. You being taller than him isn't an issue at all. He pretty much ignores it most of the time. He uses magic to get things from high up, and if he wants to kiss you he demands you lean down. Or just tugs you to his level. Whichever. He has been known to climb on top of things when arguing with people taller than him, and you would be no exception. He will go get something to stand on if necessary. He wants to look you in the eye to make his point.

Aurum – Frequently tells you how nice it is to not have to lean down to kiss you. He really enjoys how imposing the two of you look together. He'll jokingly ask you for piggy-back rides, but if you agree he's absolutely delighted. He makes it kind of difficult though, because he won't stop laughing the entire time. He'll teasingly ask you to get things from the top shelf for him. He buys you heels. If you tell him you don't walk in stilettos, he'll get you platforms instead. He tries to find ways to make you even taller, telling you he wants to be the short one. Like most things, he doesn't take it seriously at all, and has just has fun.

37 S/O gives comfort post nightmare

Doc – If you're close enough to be there to comfort him after a nightmare, then you're close enough for him to confide in. It takes a long time for him to trust you at that level, but when he does, it's absolute. Surprisingly he rarely wakes violently. His nightmares tend to center around loss rather than straight violence. It's rare to ever see him cry, but this is one of those times. He's a quiet crier, and tends to just stare at nothing. Eventually he'll start to talk, telling you not details so much, as just his general fears. His fear of losing you, of losing his brother (again), that he's afraid this “peace” they've found is temporary. Assure him you aren't going anywhere. That even if the world falls apart, you'll still be there. Flint will quietly appear at some point to do the same. It's rare to see Doc's brother so serious, but he sits in quiet solidarity. The two of you have very different relationships with Doc, but you both undeniably love him. Making sure he knows this, and that this won't change, is what matters most right now.

Aurum – Aurum's nightmares tend to go pretty unnoticed most of the time. He certainly has them, but he's gotten very good at hiding it. Now an then however, they can get a bit beyond his control, and he tends to lash out. Magically, physically, he's faced a lot of shit, and his fight instinct is strong. Especially if you happen to be featured in some way. One of his deepest fears is losing his loved ones to something he can't fight. And you fall into that category. Unfortunately there's a chance you'll get caught up in the crossfire. This will absolutely destroy him. Hurting you is something he never wanted to do. He'll try to run, don't let him. It'll take awhile, and some strong words, but make it clear you still love him, and that this changes nothing. He wasn't in control of himself, and just reacted. He didn't mean to hurt you, and that's what matters. He needs reassurance, but even with it he'll beat himself up for awhile. He doesn't want you to fear him. Smack him upside the head, hand him a tea, and tell him to get over it. Acting natural will go along way to reassure him everything is fine between you.

40 S/O overworks to the point of fainting

Doc – Buddy, pal, friend. What are you doing? If you know Doc at all, you know this is a terrible idea. Not only are you in for an earful, but so is everyone you work with. It will only happen once. He won't really understand your limits, or human limits really, all that well at first. Physical bodies are so limiting! But once you collapse, that's not something he'll ever forget, and he'll be making sure it never happens again. If that means hovering and micro managing for a week to make sure you get the message, than so be it. He says it's because you negatively affected productivity, but really he just worries. Humans are so fragile! It's nerve-wracking!

Aurum – Hey now, that's Aur's job! He's peeved with you, but he gets it. He does it fairly often himself. Less over-working, and more continuing to work and forgetting to sleep, but similar enough. He will force both of you to take a few days to rest. He tries to work out some semblance of accountability for in the future, check ins and what not, but ends up just getting Vir to make sure everyone eats and sleeps with some regularity. Which works not at all, seeing as Vir tends to start reading and forget time exists. Ultimately it's something that will probably keep happening, but every time he makes sure you both take a few days completely off to get properly rested again.

52 Finding SO’s writing/art, including some about [character]

Doc – Despite being a control freak, Doc doesn't normally go through your things. Those are your private things, and as long as it's nothing that could harm you or the family, he doesn't care. You're allowed privacy. So if he finds some of your work it's probably at least mostly accidental. Likely he was looking for some paperwork or a project he asked you to work on and happened to find something. Unfortunately now that he's found it, the privacy idea is over. Especially if it's something about or of him. He's quite flattered, and will tell you so. Also, it's his now. Unless you insist it's incomplete, he will keep it. And if you do get it back to “finish it”, he'll insist he gets it back again. He wants to show it off.

Aurum – Aur doesn't believe in other people's privacy. He's curious, nosey, and has next to no sense of “boundaries”, Give him enough shit, or pull the hurt/disappointed card and he'll learn. But until then, he absolutely goes through your things whenever the whim hits him. So obviously he's going to find your work. He won't take any of it, and puts it all back exactly how he found. That doesn't mean he's leaving it alone however. He will make constant subtle references to it, never outright saying he saw, but implying it heavily until you confront him about it. Then he uses that as an excuse to try to get you to show it off. I mean, you made something for/of/about him, he should get to see it right? If you are so inclined, feel free to throw something at him. He knows he deserves it.

These took so long I'm sorry! Lemme know if you want more, I'm happy to provide!

#Cowtale #Headcanons #Doc #Aurum #Swapfell Purple #SFP!Sans #G!Sans #SFP!CT!Sans #G!CT!Sans #cowboy au #undertale #undertale au #asks #what if #imagines #requests

23 notes · View notes

hopeworldfan · 5 years

Text

summary: you and yoongi have been best friends since you were kids, being hopelessly in love with each other was never part of the plan. aka, the typical cliche.

pairing: yoongi/reader

chapter one

word count: 6k+

genre: fluff, smut, angst, college!au, friends to lovers

warning: angst, depression, self-harm, suicide attempt, alcoholism, divorce

a/n: ive been working on this for a very long time and decided i had to split it up because shes a big one. let me know what you think!

The early hours of the morning had always brought a sense of comfort with them. The world was so quiet, so still, so peaceful. Being in the last year of your undergrad meant that you were intimately acquainted with the early hours of the morning; when the sun was just starting to shine through the blinds, the birds were just starting to chirp, the world was just starting to wake. You wished you could enjoy it, enjoy the quiet, but you were six cups of coffee deep into your Psychology of Counseling textbook and more than ready to jump off a bridge if it meant you didn’t have to take your midterm in three hours.

“You need to get some semblance of sleep Y/N, you’ll be too tired to concentrate on your midterm if you don’t.” A soft yet stern voice commented from your doorway and you sighed before leaning back in your chair -wincing as what felt like your whole spine cracked-, before spinning around and squinting at your best friend.

“Did you know that our awareness of death is the source of zest for life and creativity and that we can turn our fear of death into a positive force when we accept the reality of our own mortality?” Yoongi just continued to lean against your doorway, fixing you with an unimpressed stare and you sighed. “This chapter on Existentialism is really putting me through it, the death stuff isn’t even the worst of it. Did you know that having some anxiety is perfectly normal-”

“Y/N.” He interrupted and you sighed again, sliding your reading glasses up to where they were sitting on your head and rubbing your face.

“If I go to sleep now I won’t wake up, and I don’t have all the details of the six propositions down yet. I just know Bridgette is going to make that the essay question.” Bridgette, formally known as Dr. Coddou, had emphasized them way too much for them not to be the discussion question, and the discussion was worth half the points on the midterm.

Your best friend, however, didn’t budge, keeping his arms crossed and giving you a reproachful look. “You have work right after your midterm, you’ll be dead on your feet if you don’t get at least a few hours. I’ll wake you up on time for your test, so get in bed.”

“You’re being such a hypocrite,” you mumbled but closed the textbook regardless. Arguing with Yoongi would be a useless venture, it always was.

“What was that?”

“Nothing Yoongi-oppa.” You smiled brightly while he rolled his eyes, noticing the small upturn of his lips.

“Okay koreaboo.”

“You like it.” You sang before collapsing on your bed, disgruntling the black cat that was already sleeping there. Despite your previous protests, you were out like a light the minute your head hit the pillow. Yoongi just fondly shook his head before walking over and gently removing your glasses from the top of your head and setting them on your nightstand.

The first time you met Yoongi was in the third grade. It was one of those weird, super vivid childhood memories that seemed engraved in your brain, right along with your fifth birthday party. The school year had been well underway when he was brought into class, something that already made his presence exciting. His family had just moved from Korea to the states and he stumbled through his introduction, not quite having a solid grasp on the English language. Your classmates had laughed, finding his struggle and heavy accent hilarious. It wasn’t funny to you though, even at such a young, impressionable age because your abuelita didn’t speak a lick of English and your own mom’s heavily accented Spanglish was often ridiculed at school events.

He sat alone at recess that day and you were the first to approach him, a bright smile on your face and the offer of friendship hanging from your outstretched hand. Yoongi had been so incredibly shy at first, but you didn’t let it deter you. Instead, you stayed stuck to his side like glue, always with a bright smile and eager to help him learn English. By the end of the year, the two of you were inseparable and the rest was history.

Yoongi kept a diligent eye on the time while he worked on the composition in front of him. He knew he was prone to getting lost in his work without caring about the world around him, but the last thing he wanted to do was lose track of time and be the reason you missed your midterm. Especially after insisting that you sleep and promising to make sure you didn’t miss it. You would never let him hear the end of it if he this up.

Thirty minutes before your class, he got up and gently pushed open the door to your room. His breath caught in his throat when he saw you lying there. He’d seen you sleeping more times than he could count throughout the years, saw you lying there with your mouth wide open, drool on the side of your face, and the smallest snore coming from your sleeping form. It never failed to take his breath away. You never failed to take his breath away. There were no false pretenses when you were sleeping, no sign of the cheerful mask he knew you worse to make it through the day, the hardened armor you donned to protect yourself. When you slept there was a vulnerability you showed so rarely, even to him.

Yoongi had been in love with you for years. Maybe since that first moment in third grade, before he even knew what love was, but he knew you had a pretty smile and you were the first person to make him feel like moving away from everything he knew wasn’t the end of the world. There was just something so captivating about you, so endearing, it was unrealistic to think that he ever stood a chance. When you smiled at him, eyes squinted and barely visible, he knew without a doubt that he would do anything to keep that smile on your face, and that’s why he was okay with just being your best friend because that’s what made you happy.

Still, it was moments like this that he took for himself; approaching your sleeping form and gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. You unconsciously leaned into his touch and his heart skipped a beat. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you. The number of times he’d fantasized about it, about pressing his lips against yours was honestly ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. It was something he’d dreamed about since he was thirteen.

You muttered something unintelligible in your sleep and Yoongi retracted his hand. He knew he had to wake up. He was being more than a little creepy and crossing a multitude of lines. The two of you were best friends, nothing more.

“Wake up, Y/N.” He said, bringing a hand to your shoulder and gently shaking you awake. Your eyes briefly fluttered and you groaned, trying to snuggle deeper into your bed to catch a few more precious moments of sleep. Yoongi smiled fondly and shook his head. “Nope, you have to get up and go take your midterm.”

“Midterm!” You yelped, shooting up in such a panic that Yoongi instinctively took a step back. “I have to go take my midterm!”

“Relax,” he instructed calmly. “You have thirty minutes and I brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”

You sighed, letting your shoulders drop and willing your heart rate to slow. “Ay dios mio, whew, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in my entire life.”

His heart rate spiked at your words, eyes glued to your form as you stretched out on your bed, arching your back and groaning. Less than innocent thoughts were playing through his mind and he willed them away. You weren’t being serious, it was commonplace for you to say suggestive things, but a large part of him always hoped.

“Do you work tonight?” You asked, finally getting to your feet and rolling your neck, wincing at the distinct popping. The question broke him from his reverie and he mentally slapping himself.

“No, I tried to but I’m already in overtime for the week so Jin wouldn’t let me.”

You pouted and lightly hit his shoulder. “What did I tell you about overworking yourself? Between the two of us, we make enough to pay the bills without killing ourselves.” Your eyes softened when you took a longer look at your best friend. The bags under his eyes were an even darker shade of purple and his skin was an even more ghostly pale than normal. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your head against his chest. “You need to take care of yourself Yoongi, there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you, remember?”

The words were muffled against his chest, but the way his arms wrapped around your form was enough confirmation that he had heard. Being so sleep deprived made you overemotional, but that didn’t make it any less true. Over a decade of friendship made Yoongi a fixture in your life. When everything was crashing down, when everything was going wrong, when your abuelita and dad both died in the span of a year, when your mom turned to alcohol to numb the pain, it was Yoongi who was always there for you. He was the only stability in your life, and that was why you’d never tell him how you really felt, how you were desperately and hopelessly in love with him.

“You’re sappy when you’re tired.” He commented dully as he gazed down at you, praying you couldn’t hear how his heart was ready to jump out of his chest.

“Please, I’m sappy all the time.” You shot back, pulling away to get on your tip-toes and place a soft kiss against his temple. He had to fight every cell in his body to keep from blushing at your show of affection because it was so common that it shouldn’t even affect him anymore. The man was convinced you were the most affectionate person he had ever met; it was something he learned early on, so he knew not to read into it. However, the temple kisses were the one thing he could never get used to. While the hugs, hand-holding, and cuddling made his heart race, there was something about the temple kiss that was so tender, so intimate, and he’d never seen you do it with anyone else.

That was because you didn’t. It was selfish and stupid, but the temple kiss was the one thing you’d allow yourself. You could sweep it under the rug of showing platonic affection if anyone questioned it, but you knew that it was different.

“Alright gotta blast, see you later Yoongles, don’t forget to feed Noodle!” You smiled, already halfway out of the door, your backpack sling over your shoulder and a full tumbler of coffee in your hand. “Love you!”

“Love you too.” He replied softly, but the door was already swinging shut.

Relief flooded through you as you handed in your midterm, giving Dr. Coddou a polite smile before jetting out of the classroom. There were other midterms to study for, other things to stress about, but that was for a later date. The only thing currently on your mind was treating yourself to your favorite takeout to celebrate before going into work.

“Y/N!” Someone called out from behind you and you immediately whipped your head around. “How do you think you did?”

“I’ll be pretty upset if I didn’t make at least a ‘B’, what about you?” Namjoon smiled down at you, shyly adjusting his glasses.

“I’m pretty sure I made an ‘A’.”

“Of course, you did, you’re literally a genius. I really only asked in the interest of being polite,” you teased, noticing the way his cheeks flushed the most endearing shade of pink. Namjoon was cute in a nerdy, bookworm, librarian way with his wire-framed glasses, grandpa cardigans, and adorable dimples.. The two of you shared a class together your sophomore year and were partnered together for a project. You really hit it off and stayed friends, though you’d never interacted outside the context of academia. It had been a surprise when you walked into your psychology of counseling class and saw Namjoon already sitting in the front row, being that he was a Philosophy major and you were positive psychology of counseling wasn’t required for that degree plan. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but why did you take this class anyway? Planning on doing some philosophical counseling?”

Namjoon’s cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink. “Oh, uh, I mean, no uhm, I just well, I really like,” he paused and his eyes only met yours for a second before he looked away, his blush managing to deepen even more. “Psychology! I really like psychology! It’s really interesting.”

“Right!” You agreed enthusiastically, completely oblivious to the boy’s panic. “It’s all just so intriguing to learn about how people think and why. This chapter on Existential Therapy was so fun despite how much it blew my mind. I mean, our awareness of death being the source of our zest for life and creativity? Whew. Do you think you’ll end up with a psych minor?”

Namjoon just stood there with a dumb smile on his face, not realizing you had asked him a question. He’d been distracted by your rambling, the way your eyes lit up and you gestured wildly with your hands. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen. You were the cutest thing he had ever seen, and that was why he found himself in yet another psychology class that he had absolutely no need for.

“Hellooooo, earth to Joon?” You asked, staring up at him with your head tilted and one eyebrow raised.

“Oh! Uhm, yeah, I’ll probably end up with a psych minor.” He said in a rush, trying to downplay his embarrassment.

“Fun!” you glanced down at your phone and swore. “Shit, I have to get to work, see you later Joon!”

Namjoon sighed as you bounded away. Would he ever work up the confidence to ask you on a date? It didn’t seem likely.

Work was exhausting, per usual, but tips were decent so you weren’t complaining about that. What you were complaining about was just how bad your feet ached. Despite how many times you complained to Jin, he liked the uniforms the was they were, so you were stuck with stupid shoes that offered no support or comfort.

By the time you were gently closing the front door, it had to be close to two in the morning and you were ready to crawl under the overs and sleep like the dead since tomorrow was Saturday and you were off of work.

“Hey Noodle.” You greeted softly when the black cat made his presence known t you with a loud ‘meow’ before rubbing himself against your legs.

You were mid-yawn when you trudged into the kitchen, content to just drinking some orange juice because finding something eat would take entirely too much effort. It was by chance that you noticed the post-it on the microwave, Yoongi’s messy handwriting sprawled across it.

mac n’ cheese in here, just heat it up

Your lips upturned in a gentle smile. For all his talk, Yoongi was one of the softest, most thoughtful people you had ever met. His love language was in the small things. Sure, it was just mac n’ cheese, something that didn’t take longer than ten minutes to whip up, but it was ten minutes he knew you weren’t going to take. While the macaroni was heating up, you added a little something to the bottom of the post-it.

remind me to put a ring on it in the morning

Loud. That was your first thought as you were choke-slammed into consciousness. There was a very familiar, very loud voice carrying through your apartment and you groaned before grabbing your comforter and pulling it over your head, trying in vain to delay the inevitable.

You weren’t the slightest bit surprised when your door was slammed open and the person squealed “Y/N-ie” before jumping on top of you.

“Ay dios mio, get off Hobi,” you grumbled, trying -and failing- to push the older boy off of you.

Said boy just laughed. “Not a chance! I haven’t seen you in so long. I’ve missed you!”

You stopped struggling, content to accept your fate of being squished. “I missed you too, Hobi.”

“Why don’t you ever call me oppa?” Though your head was still buried underneath your comforter, you could hear the pout in his voice and knew he was making a devastatingly cute face.

“If I call you oppa will you get off of me?”

“Yes!”

“Okay...Hobi-oppa.”

Hoseok kept his promise and promptly rolled off of you, grabbing the covers and pulling them off in the process. You knew you should probably be at least a little embarrassed considering Hoseok now had a pg-13 rated view of your body since you only ever slept in a big t-shirt and underwear, but modesty was never one of your strong suits. Instead, you rolled over in a desperate attempt to sneak a few more moments of sleep. “Nu-uh, you’re getting up and coming to get lunch with me, Jimin, and Yoongi-hyung.”

He was equally as unaffected by your lack of clothing, having gotten used to it. “Hobiiiiiiiii.” You whined.

“Don’t make me tickle you.”

That was enough to make you jump out of bed. He didn’t bluff when it came to tickling, something you knew all too well. The redhead cheered before pulling you into a tight hug.

Hoseok was the first friend Yoongi made freshman year and became your friend by association. You couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that Yoongi attracted extroverts like moths to a flame because Hoseok was the textbook definition and while you weren’t quite on his level, you were up there.

“Ah, good morning Y/N.” A serene voice greeted from the doorway and you glanced around Hoseok’s frame to grin at the fourth member of your ragtag friend group.

“Hey Chim.” While Hoseok was the first friend Yoongi made in college, Jimin was yours. The two of you shared a hellish 7:30 your first semester and bonded over wanting to die every morning and keeping each other awake during the lecture. The four of you meshed together unsettlingly well, and Hoseok and Jimin ended up as roommates before the end of freshman year. You privately thought it was hilarious that your three best friends were all Korean, maybe Yoongi was right when he called you a koreaboo.

You meandered over to Jimin and wrapped him in a tight hug before brushing past him and noticing Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. “Is Yoongi still sleeping?”

“Mhm. You know you’re the only one who can wake him up without putting him in a bad mood.” Jimin said lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“I gave you guys that spare key to use for emergencies, not to break in and force us to eat lunch with you.”

“Eating lunch with us is an emergency!” Hoseok protested.

“Ya, ya, ya.” Regardless, you were awake, and if you had to be awake, so did Yoongi.

Creeping into his room, your heart skipped a beat when you saw him lying there. He looked so content, so peaceful, it warmed your heart. You knew how deeply Yoongi hid things, how he always put his own feelings last when it came to the people he cared about. It was only through years of friendship that you were able to discern when he was putting up a front, when he was putting on a brave face for your sake. Both of you had baggage and issues and things that were hard to talk about, even with each other. However, at that moment, you knew none of that mattered to Yoongi, he was at peace, and a part of you hated to ruin that.

The other part of you wanted to jump on him the way Hoseok did to you.

That part won out.

“Rise and shine sleepy head!” You giggled, throwing your body on top of his and gently patting his dumpling-like cheeks as you straddled him. He groaned, the same reaction you had to Hoseok, and you shot him a beaming smile when his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning Yoongi-oppa.”

Something strange flashed across his face at your words but you were too busy poking his squishy cheeks to notice. “What are you doing?”

The question was entirely for his own sake because he was becoming increasingly aware of the position the two of you were in, something you were completely oblivious to. He could tell you had just woken up since you only seemed to be wearing a big shirt -one of his-, and a pair of underwear. That alone was enough to make his cock twitch, seeing you in his clothes always had an effect on him, especially when the only thing you paired it with was underwear. Then there was the way you were straddling him, knees on either side of his torso, completely unaware that your crotch was directly over his. Usually, he had self-control, he could squash down the indecent fantasies, but he was still only half-awake and all he could think about was how easy it would be to grab your hips and thrust up. He knew it wouldn’t take him long to cum, even if there were three layers -his boxers, the comforter, and your panties- between his cock and your pussy. God, the fantasy of you placing your hands on his chest and grinding down on him was too delicious. He already had an idea of what you’d sound like, the small whimpers, the soft gasps, he’d heard it all before when you thought you were being discrete late at night. He wanted to hear those sounds when he was the one causing them, when his cock was-

“Hobi and Jimin are here and forcing us to go eat lunch. You should be grateful I’m the one who woke up and not Hobi.”

Yoongi mentally slapped himself. His cock was growing harder and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He prayed to every god in existence that you didn’t decide to press down on him because there was no way you wouldn’t know his dick was hard. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

You giggled before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and hopping off his bed. “Hurry up and get ready, I’m starving and I’m pretty sure I can scam Hobi into paying.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned and danced out of Yoongi’s room, missing the way his eyes stayed glued to your barely covered ass.

“See, completely unharmed. He probably would have killed Hobi-hyung.” Jimin pointed out from the couch, happily petting Noodle and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh,” you paused, an innocent smile slipping on to your face. “Hobi-oppa?”

Said boy’s face lit up and you internally smirked. A part of you would have felt bad for scamming one of your best friends, but it wasn’t like he didn’t -frequently- do the same thing to you. When he hit you with a pout you were helpless. “Yes, Y/N-ie?”

“Well, since you’re my oppa and all, does that mean you’re paying for lunch?” You tilted your head and stuck your bottom lip out the tiniest bit in a pout. Jimin ducked his head to muffle his laughter.

“Of course, leave it all to me!” Too easy.

“This so good I am going to bust the fattest nut.” You moaned between mouthfuls of lo mein noodles.

Hoseok had decided on Chinese and you weren’t complaining, especially when it was on his dime. “I second that.”

“Here Yoongi, you have to try this.” You insisted, gathering a hefty amount of noodles on your fork and turning your body sitting next to your, expectantly holding the utensil up to his face. He gave you an unimpressed look but the smile on your face persisted and it only took seconds her him to cave and take the offered bite. “See! Amazing, right?”

“Feed me next Y/N-ie!” Hoseok pouted and you rolled your eyes before gathering more noodles.

“Here you go Hobi-oppa.” You teased and he gladly wrapped his lips around the fork.

“I, for one, still can’t believe that you can’t use chopsticks,” Jimin commented and you groaned.

The three boys were all using the provided chopsticks while you didn’t even bother opening your set. “Let me live Jimin.”

“Just saying.”

“I’m not required to know how to use chopsticks just because the three of you do! Stop peer pressuring me.”

“It’s really not that hard Y/N-ie.”

“Look, Yoongi’s mom spent many a dinner trying to teach me, I’m just hopeless!”

“It’s true, she’s a terrible student.”

You immediately punched Yoongi on the shoulder, but his gummy smile erased any thoughts about even pretending to be angry. Before anyone could say anything, your phone started ringing and you only hesitated for a second before pressing the device to your ear after seeing just who was calling you.

“Hola mamá,” you greeted cheerfully, ignoring the concerned look Yoongi shot your way. “¿Qué pasa?”

The smile on your face slipped when you heard the drunken slur of her words. It slipped even more when she popped the inevitable question.

“¿Cuanto?” You asked, trying to keep your voice even, to not ruin the atmosphere because this was the first time the four of you had been together in forever and you wanted to enjoy it. You didn’t react when your mom listed off the number, despite the sinking in your stomach. “Bueno...sí mama...esta noche...sí...te amo.”

“Back to our previous conversation, all I have to say is that learning how to lose chopsticks is a lot harder than it looks when you’re not born into the culture, and it’s also harder to learn as an adult because your brain has less plasticity.” You rambled, forcing a smile as you logged into your banking app to transfer the money to your mom’s account. Yoongi tensed and you knew he was watching you, could practically feel the disapproval radiating off of him when you transferred the amount from your savings to her checking. You knew he understood the short conversation you had; he’d picked up his fair share of Spanish throughout the years. It would be an argument later. You could already feel the headache.

The rest of the lunch was fine. Hoseok was even louder and more ridiculous than usual and Jimin kept reaching across the table to fiddle with your hands, your hair, your face, all in an effort to make you feel better, seeing right through the smile plastered across your face. They knew you too well for it to fool them. Yoongi, on the other hand, was silent, he was stewing.

“Six hundred?” He asked the minute the two of you were alone in the apartment, barely giving you time to shrug off your jacket. You just collapsed on the couch, feeling all your energy leave you in an instant thinking about how much you were going to have to work to make up the funds.

“And what about it?” You sighed, too tired to muster together any anger.

“That money is for grad school, what did your mom need it for? Couldn’t pay rent because she spent all her money on alcohol again? Couldn’t pay her light bill because she keeps funneling money into poker machines?” In a turn of events, you actually weren’t too tired to muster together any anger, because Yoongi’s cold words brought it right to the surface. Mostly because he was right.

“And so what if it is? What am I supposed to do Yoongi? Let her get evicted? Let her power get shut off? It’s my money, I can do whatever I want with it.”

Your mom never did shake back from the alcoholic hole she fell into when your grandma and dad died and Yoongi resented her for it. It had broken you because you didn’t just lose your grandma and your dad, you lost your mom too, and Yoongi almost lost you. He’d been so caught up in his angsty teenage bullshit, hating the world because of his parent’s divorce that he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice when your smile became tight and forced. He didn’t notice when you started wearing long sleeves despite the unforgiving heat. He didn’t notice when the light started to fade from your eyes. It wasn’t until he broke down your bathroom door junior year of high school because of a goodbye text that he finally noticed.

Yoongi had never been one to cry, but he cried then, finding you crumpled on the floor, a knife in one hand and blood running down both arms from the cuts lining them. He carefully took the knife from your hand and threw it out of the room before sinking onto the floor next to you and wrapping your trembling form in a tight hug. He apologized as he cried, over and over again, for not realizing sooner, for not being able to take your pain away. It was then that he knew that he hated your mom because you were his sunshine, his light, and that was what she had reduced you to, because even then, the only thing you could manage to say besides ‘i’m sorry’ was ‘please don’t tell my mom’.

He hated that even now, even though you were so far away, she still had such a grip on your life. You were supporting yourself and supporting her.

Though you understood why Yoongi felt the way he did, though there were times when you resented your mom, at the end of the day she was still your mom. She was the woman from your childhood who was full of warmth and laughter, and there were rare times when she still was, when the old her shined through in her even rarer moments of sobriety.

Yoongi wasn’t fuming, but you were. His anger ran cold where yours ran hot. “How much more are you going to let her take Y/N? That’s all she does.”

“She’s my mom Yoongi! Fuck! I’m not having this argument with you again!” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air and storming out. It was such a pointless fucking argument to have, the two of you would just run around in circles, getting angrier and angrier until you inevitably stormed off. The two of you didn’t argue often, you hated arguing with Yoongi, he was your best friend in the entire world, but you knew the topic of you mom would never be something you agreed on.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were storming off to, the destination wasn’t the point, you just needed to clear your head and get away from Yoongi. Somehow you ended up at a little park that you didn’t even realize was near your apartment complex, so you sat on one of the benches and groaned. It was cold outside, it was getting dark, you were alone, and you didn’t have your phone, keys, or wallet. You really were a genius.

“Y/N?” A soft voice called and you yelped, jumping up and ready to run if the person was going to try and murder you. “Sorry!”

Whipping around, you visibly relaxed when you took in the boy in front of you, cardigan and all. “Whew, you almost gave me a heart attack Joon.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again and you waved it off, finally noticing the white dog curiously sniffing your shoes. Your response was instantaneous, dropping into a squat and gently petting the dogs fluffy head.

“Who is this cute little baby?” You cooed happily, laughing when the dog playfully jumped on you, causing you to fall back on your ass while being assaulted with kisses. Namjoon was literally melting.

“Oh, uhm, his name is Rapmon.”

“Hi Rapmon,” you greeted cheerfully, planting a kiss on the top of his head before getting to your feet and wrapping your arms around your torso. It definitely wasn’t the smartest move to run out without grabbing your jacket when winter was right around the corner.

Namjoon noticed and immediately shrugged off his cardigan. “You should put this on before you get sick.”

“Ahh I can’t take that! You’ll be cold!” You protested.

“I’m wearing long sleeves, and my body temperature naturally runs high.” You wanted to put up more of a fight, but the temperature was dropping as the sun sank below the horizon, so you gratefully took the offered clothing.

“Thanks,” you smiled as the boy’s cheeks warmed, seeing you in his clothes having an enormous effect on him. “Do you live around here?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah, my apartment is right across the street actually.” He replied sheepishly and you whipped your head around to the fancy ass apartments across the street.

You couldn't keep the amazement from your voice. “What the fuck, Joon, those are so nice.”

“Ahh, my mom picked it out, they’re alright.” He said, clearly embarrassed. “What about you?”

“I think my apartment is somewhere around here, I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going.” You admitted, it being your turn to be embarrassed. “I had a fight with my best friend and kinda just...ended up here.”

“Oh.”

The two of you just stood there for a solid minute, Namjoon trying to work up the courage to say something and you just not really knowing what to say for once in your life. It was Namjoon who finally spoke. “Do you...uhm...do you want to come up to my apartment? It’s getting dark and it’s cold out, once we bring Rapmon in I can drive you home...if you want.”

He trailed off, obviously flustered and you giggled. “I’d love to come up to your apartment Joon.”

It was exactly as fancy as you expected and you had to physically stop yourself from gawking like a tourist. However, you were doing a poor job and Namjoon secretly thought it was adorable how your eyes were the size of tennis balls.

“Alright, I can bring you home now.” He said after letting Rapmon off of his leash and grabbing his keys. You hesitated though. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go home, per say, but you didn’t want to go home. Yoongi’s temper had a tendency to stick around, taking a while to defrost, and you didn’t have the energy to go another round.

“Is it okay if I just...chill here for a while?” You finally asked, nervously fiddling with your thumbs.

“Yes!” He answered immediately because he was ready to give you the world on a silver platter if that was what you requested, especially when you were standing in front of him in his cardigan.

“Thanks Joon,” you smiled, missing the blush that painted his cheeks.

You made yourself comfortable on his couch and he followed suit. It took a few minutes for the ice to break, but once it did, you couldn’t stop talking. Namjoon was hands down the smartest person you had ever met, and he had such interesting viewpoints on so many things. He was incredibly easy to talk to and you had to admit that he looked so fucking cute when he was rambling about a topic he was passionate about. It was the only time you’d ever seen him look confident about something and it was really hot. Namjoon had always been filed away as ‘cute’ in your mind, but seeing him in his element, completely at ease in his fitted long-sleeved shirt, hair in disarray from how he kept running a hand through it, well, you had a different perspective.

Almost unconsciously you gravitated towards him until your knees were touching and his cheeks were rosy, hyper-aware of the contact.

“What time is it?” You suddenly asked, realizing it was completely dark outside and you’d been talking for so long that your mouth was dry. Namjoon glanced at the watch on his wrist -it looked like a Rolex- and winced.

“It’s two in the morning.”

You immediately shot up, eyes wide in panic. Fuck. Yoongi was probably worried sick, you had stormed out without your keys, wallet, or phone and it was two in the morning and you weren’t home. “Fuck.”

Namjoon brought you home immediately, spewing apologized for not paying better attention to the time. You reassured him that it wasn’t his fault and you had gotten equally lost in talking to him, thanking him a million times for bringing you home.

Your stomach was in knots as you climbed up to the third floor, just knowing Yoongi was going to be even more furious with you. God, you were such an idiot.

You’d only managed to knock on the front door twice before it was yanked open and you were pulled into a bone-crushing hug, letting out a squeak of surprise.

“Y/N.” Yoongi breathed and your heart clenched painfully at how relieved he sounded.

“I’m sor-”

“No,” He interuppted, still holding you tight against his chest. “I’m sorry okay. I know, I know she’s still your mom and that will never change no matter how much I resent her for the hell she put you through. I’m sorry, just please, fuck, please don’t leave like that again.”

His voice shook the smallest bit and your heart broke. He must have been so worried about you.

“Hey,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his frame and gently rubbing his back. “I’m sorry Yoongi. It was really stupid of me to run out like that. I ran into a friend and we lost track of time, don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, sorry to tell you.”

He took a deep breath, his face still buried in your hair, and loosened his grip just enough for you to reach up and place a kiss against his temple. Just like that, everything was right again.

85 notes · View notes

shockpop · 4 years

Text

being a textbook overthinker is a strong suit denki is not particularly known for . a head regularly presumed empty has worked to incessantly churn the argument on playback over the course of three days , violet staining crescents beneath his eyes at some point between the late - night mumbling and a time wherein he doesn’t even remember falling asleep . his oh - so - gracious host is left at a loss when she is forcibly tasked with shoving him awake each morning .

as much an empath as mina prides herself in being , it ain’t exactly a cakewalk to get into a neurotic’s mindset when he’s the one insisting that he’s fine , that everything is fine ; practiced charisma a much - appreciated plus in attempts to persuade his longtime best friend that he just needed a little breathing space from the situation . because that’s what they have to call it , now . ‘ the situation ’ .

this was all before denki proceeded to peel himself from eyesore - chartreuse cushions an hour late each day , and the reason why mina now harbors heavy concern beneath the initial irritation as she beats him awake with a pillow for the third day in a row .

astonishingly enough , through all the budding bruises and little cricks of his bones , denki’s still not used to it ---- confused as to why in place of a fluffy orange butt sat directly�� on his face is a firm pink hand , squishing freckled cheeks that’d never quite lost their baby fat .

the phone promptly shoved in his face ( raw - eyed , drool - sticky , red where strong fingers have imprinted themselves into his skin ) reads 7:12 am , a good hour and some past his normal wakeup time . he shouldn’t be so pikachu - meme shocked when this scenario is the direct result of a profuse refusal to take the device off silent mode these past few days ---- afraid to wake up to any late - night texts or calls .

and yet here he is , eyes squeezing shut as he mutters his third , grumbly shit this short week .

❛ seriously , dude ? ❜ mina chides as she flips through the unsung alarms , each set five minutes apart from one another beginning at 5:30 in the morning .

getting himself out of bed always had been something of a chore , emphasized by recent reasoning that he’d not been catching more than half a wink prior to that exact time each day . ❛ you teach people for a living and yet remain willfully oblivious to the very accessible , very convenient do not disturb function . ❜

she lets the phone fall unceremoniously onto denki’s lap , cushions creaking beneath their weight . ❛ get off my couch , spud . ❜

he’d love to , actually . every node in his spine pops in agreement .

the minutes between then and hurriedly collecting stray pieces of clothing off the floor pass in a rheumy - eyed blur , other possessions that’re repeatedly tripped over a courtesy of the emergency overnight bag he’d emptied out over the week . kept in the back of his car for situations that call for it , this doesn’t really qualify as one of those times .

❛ hey . what’s the status of you reevaluating your life choices so that you’re not crawling out my door late to work in the same inside - out v - neck you’ve been wearing all week ? ❜ mina prompts in midst of tossing on a jacket as gaudy in design as the rest of her , somehow completely comprehending what vague semblance of shut up , shut up , shut up denki conveys through hand gestures in between hurriedly scrubbing his teeth .

without time to style his hair this morning , he’s left to ruffle through the unkempt locks in his reflection through the elevator doors , displeased in how they refuse to obey any law of gravity but deciding that he might as well just go ahead and look as shitty as he feels . hurts less to acknowledge it himself before mina eagerly relays just how divorced he looks mere moments later .

❛ you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually , ❜ she reminds him just before they part , chaste kiss pressed to either cheek and equally reciprocated . ❛ before it’s too late . i know you’re both pretty keen on letting things fester , but how ‘bout you just nut up before your idiot boy pride makes things completely irreversible ? ❜

at her humble suggestion , denki mulls on the air of an amused hum , shouldering open one of the glass doors for her to walk through first . ❛ my idiot boy pride , huh . s'a little misandristic , don’tcha think ? ❜

she replies with a wag of her middle finger in the air behind her , a stark gesture that bakugou would appreciate and that denki hates thinking that bakugou would appreciate . he silently curses mina once for the reminder , then again for her uncanny talent of always being right .

on that note , he mentally checks ‘ idiot boy pride ’ as a contender for the working title of an eventual autobiography .

lunch passes by a lot more slowly in the days he’d been forcibly weened off of bakugou’s cooking . left to survive off what loose change could nab from the vending machines outside and random snacks found throughout the cabinets of the teachers’ lounge , denki finds that whey milk and loose granola by the fistful are not all that amazing a combo .

mina is wise beyond her years . this is a meal of a divor - fuckin’ - cee .

actually , the sudden absence of a balanced diet may even be reaching the point of a pressing health issue . when he brushes granola grains off his shirt ---- now worn correctly , after having uncomfortably fumbled with it in his car earlier ---- he notices how tight his chest has begun to feel over the course of the morning . an ache like a scream that won’t come out . he’s bound , yes , and dry granola has probably not made the trip down his esophagus very easy ; but had the pain always been so prominent ?

❛ didja check twitter yet ? refresh your timeline ---- look , see , it’s trending ! ❜

denki’s attention piques , turning towards the flood of students rushing by the lounge door . on their way back to their classrooms to ride out the last few periods of the day , he’s not surprised to see so many of their eyes glued to their phones as they walk , given that lunch and homeroom make up the only two slots of time wherein students are allowed access to such devices .

their conversations spill in a slew of muddled topics : is the villain big ? how’d you do on that art history exam ? shouldn’t he have backup? my sister’s taking me to that new poke bowl restaurant tonight . is he breathing ? cats can doggy paddle , can’t they ? blasty’s a top - five ! indestructible ! i hope i have a team one day . but so was jeanist , and look what happened to him .

❛ bla ---- ❜ denki starts , sparing a few minutes heading back himself to fish his phone from his cardigan . he’s usually never without it , idly recalling a time in their youth where bakugou would have to manually pluck it from his grasp so that he’d settle into bed for the night . over the past few days , though , he's been more than content to break character and distance himself from the buzz of social media under some years - too - late guise of self - care and breaking addiction .

waking his phone now , the top notification banner reads a single message from his current roommate .

are you ok?

below it , an informal update from twitter , alerting him of exactly what his curiosity demands to be sated with right now .

trending in heroics : #BLASTYEXPLODO .

he doesn’t need a little shoulder mina angel to tell him that reading about his ex is technically just the time - sensitive equivalent of purposefully sifting through bakugou’s online presence ; mostly because the app is barely flicked open when the tightness across his chest constricts to a sudden , sharp PANG .

it doesn’t take some deep search to unearth the context of his students’ obsessive chattering nearby , considering that his entire timeline is being consistently updated with live footage from the scene . a bird’s - eye view of the site below captures where several heroes can be spotted as moving dots along the destruction of the outskirts ; all save for one , reported to have been caught in the fray after a building collapsed .

fingers press deep into the pain of his chest . his shoulder hits the wall to support his weight , face paling as he forces himself to read the oncoming slew of tweets one by one . a lot are unhelpful ---- mere wishes for blasty to hang in there , some questioning where he is , false memoriam by people denki knows bakugou’s never met , lots of clickbait for merch and inappropriate thirst posts layered in between .

nothing gives him a solid answer . because nobody has a solid answer .

lacking the word association necessary to properly reply to mina’s text without stirring either concern or cause for a possible lecture , he shoots something quick to kirishima instead .

hey man , thanks for everything lately . i’ll feed the cats tonight . can you do me a solid and leave a key ?

the car ride home is as long as ever in traffic surrounding the incident . every instance of a top hero barely escaping the brink of death is all but a grim reminder that life is short , speaking volumes to average citizens rushing home to spoil their families before everything settles back into a regular , non - life - threatening routine for them tomorrow .

shortly after lunch ( and trying to shake off what he was certain were signs of a small heart�� attack ) , denki decided that there was no use cutting his day short to make an appearance at the scene . rapid updates from twitter and associates alike informed him that blasty had eventually made it out on two legs , triumphant as ever , before being escorted to an unspecified hospital in order to avoid the public eye in his recovery .

denki takes his chances in calling his mom between catching every red light , hope breaking in a small , audible whimper when she doesn’t answer his one - or - nine calls . bakugou wasn’t the only victim in today’s events ; he rationalizes that nariko is probably up to her neck in new admissions regardless , but the thought doesn’t exactly bring him any peace of mind .

breathe . an impossible demand to meet , but one necessary to keep his electricity from snapping at the wheel .

he doesn’t exactly know why he’d even bothered showing up , sluggish steps treading the long lengths of tiled hallway leading to bakugou’s residence . not really any use hanging around an empty apartment all night ; even despite the pressing matter of the question mark tacked behind his current living situation . he’s not really looking to task himself with packing just yet .

❛ it’s just something , ❜ denki tiredly tells himself aloud at the foot of their doorstep , head tipped to the ceiling in a brief moment of reprieve . the sentiment resonates as somewhat redundant . it’s always something . he’s got a million somethings in his life that he’s never cared to name , piling one over the other in the corner of his mind without thought to the mental repercussions dealt to everyone involved .

maybe there’s only one something afterall . maybe the common denominator was just him .

tip of his shoe peels back the corner of the mat he’d insisted on laying there some short while ago , the key tucked beneath it shining in the hallway lighting once its cover is disturbed . bless his heart , but kirishima’s not very creative in his hiding places .

this copy is as shiny and unbroken - in as the one bakugou had given denki when he first moved here , spare a few spots of dirt he brushes off before lodging it into the keyhole .

without a set of miscellaneous dangling objects attached to it , the action of turning a bare key into the lock takes him back a full year ago ---- wherein he’d rigidly haunted this exact spot on a matless tile , uneager to begin a new phase in his life eventually titled reversed strength .

unlike back then , however , the key is met this time around without resistance in its lock , nothing to combat it as it turns . the door before him is open . presently .

his stomach drops .

hesitant to ease himself inside when so actively adorned in hair - raising suspicion , denki is met with the usual stagnancy of an empty apartment ---- no wafts of food cooking on the stove , no sound of the television on for background noise , no cats tripping over each other to greet him with a howling demand for kibble and petty - pets ( which smarts a little , considering his absence ) .

there is dim warmth from sunlight pouring through the windows and little else . not even a speck of dust found to sift through it . he wonders if kirishima had simply forgotten to lock the door behind him .

and yet , even with this thought in mind ---- this silent prayer ---- denki still holds a name on his tongue as he steps fully into the apartment , pocketing the key where its triplet sits unperturbed a few feet away . it’s a momentary struggle to find his voice , and he doesn’t recognize the sound that comes out .

❛ k ------- ... katsuki ? ❜

@blstys .

#blstys #ii . reversed strength .#v : pro hero .#mom holy FUCK

15 notes · View notes