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withacapitalp · 1 year

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I Wish For You Every Time

First Half

Read it on ao3 instead

The drive was so much longer than he was used to.

Normally, Steve didn’t even really bother to look around, and he kind of faded out while he was driving. He had taken these roads every day of his life, he knew them like the back of his hand. On the rare occasion he did look out the window as he drove, he was usually caught up in the simple beauty of Hawkins.

The sloping hills, the big dark trees, the endless expanses of farm land. The town, with people who always waved when they caught your eye, store fronts with big bright signs, and kids on bikes.

Steve was Hawkins blood. Born there, raised there, lived his whole life knowing he was probably going to die there too. His family had their own section in the cemetery for Christ’s sake.

It had never really bothered him before. Steve had always taken comfort in how easy that all sounded. Life had gotten pretty strange in the last few years, but that inevitability of a small town existence was the soothing balm that smoothed over those rough patches.

Well, normally it was soothing. Right now it felt like a death sentence.

Steve looked out the window, and all he saw was a tomb. He looked out the window and all he saw was the same thing he was always going to see. There was nothing surprising, nothing new. Nothing like when he was with Eddie, who would drag him all around trying to find the most interesting things that he had never seen.

But Eddie was gone now, and Steve’s entire life was going to be these same sights forever and ever.

He clenched his hands tighter around the wheel, banishing the sudden inexplicable need to drive his car off the road. He couldn’t do that. Robin was in the car with him.

It was mildly terrifying that Robin’s presence was the only reason Steve wasn’t wrapping his Beemer around one of those trees he used to love so much.

“I can hear you thinking,” Robin said softly, reaching over and turning the radio off. It was too much to ask her to drop it, or let this go. His soulmate was a meddler, and Steve knew it was best to just go along with her.

But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it this time.

“Would’ve figured you’d see the smoke coming out of my ears before you heard my brain trying to work,” Steve joked, mentally begging for her to just go along with him. Make a joke, crack a smile, let him forget that his heart was still breaking.

Not a chance.

“Do you want to stay?”

If she had asked him yesterday, his answer would have been immediate. If she had even asked him an hour ago, Steve would know what to say.

He didn't want to leave Hawkins, he wanted Eddie to stay. He wanted them all to stay exactly where they were.

But he had just watched Eddie drive off into the sunset like it was nothing, and the rest were going to be following soon enough, and his whole world view had flipped on its head. A part of Steve had been so sure it wasn’t happening, so positive that Eddie would realize that he didn’t want to go at the last second.

Now Steve was being confronted with the full experience of not seeing Eddie ever again, and suddenly he couldn’t remember why he wanted to stay in Hawkins so badly.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, because lying to Robin was a stupid plan. She could read him better than anyone in the world, “I don’t- I can’t go anywhere else Robin,”

And wasn’t that the truth? Steve wouldn’t survive anywhere but Hawkins. Here he had a reputation, a name that still carried something when people said it. It wasn’t much, but without that, there wasn’t anything all that special about him. Without that notoriety that still hung around, Steve was just another small town loser.

Wasn’t that pathetic?

“Why can't you go?” Robin pressed, and Steve knew in an instant he could never tell her. Not only would she not believe him, she would be determined to prove him wrong, and Steve didn’t need to deal with that particular can of worms.

“Because I’m not like the rest of you. I’m not destined for greatness,”

He had meant to say it as a joke, but there was too much bitterness carried in the words, too much reality. He was destined for a small town life, nothing special, nothing important. Sure he might end up as the biggest fish again, but there was no escaping his small pond.

“Maybe that’s because you already got there,” Robin observed, cutting through Steve’s thoughts in the easy way she always did, “Seems to me like you’re already pretty great.”

“Thanks Robs,” Steve said with a tiny smile. He reached out and she took his free hand in both of hers, smacking his knuckles with a silly kiss.

Well, he hadn’t lost her yet at least. That would probably hurt even more than losing Eddie.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Robin said to herself, and Steve’s brow furrowed. He turned to look at his best friend, and she turned her head towards the window, tapping out rhythms against the back of his hand in the way she did when she was hiding something.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as they pulled into Loch Nora. She shrugged, still not looking at him. He glanced away from Robin and over to his house.

When he saw the front lawn, Steve stopped short, slamming on the brake and jerking them both forward.

“Jesus Christ!” Robin exclaimed, dropping Steve’s hand to rub at her chest where the seat belt had cut into her skin, “What the hell?”

Steve didn’t respond to her, couldn't have even if he wanted to. His mouth was dry, and his mind was blank, and his heart was jackrabbiting so fast Steve was sure it was about to jump out of his chest.

Because there were seven bikes on his lawn. And the kids were there, running around playing some game.

And Eddie was the one chasing them around.

“Steve? Honey?” Robin probed, putting her hand on his arm.

“Why is he here?” Steve whispered, unable to speak any louder.

It had been hard enough to watch Eddie leave the first time. Now he was going to make Steve do it again?!

“Dunno,” Robin lied, acting as if she wasn’t lying. She shrugged and settled back in her seat, doing nothing to hide the smile on her face, “Why don’t we go see what he wants? Maybe he forgot something,”

Oh.

This was a set up.

But for what?

Steve gave Robin a narrow eyed glare, pressing the gas again and smoothly sliding into his driveway like he had never stopped. The kids noticed him pulling in and began to wave, still tripping over each other and cackling loud enough Steve could hear them through the windows.

Normally the sound would make him smile, but Steve’s mouth felt like it was going to permanently be stuck in a thin straight line.

He was going to have to let go of Eddie. Again. He was going to have to break his own damn heart. Again.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to deserve it, but there was no doubt in his mind that God was punishing him for something.

Whatever. He’d survive. Maybe.

With that particularly dark thought, Steve yanked his seatbelt off, kicking his car door open and letting it slam shut with a satisfying noise. Robin got out much quieter, quickly moving to his side as the others began to race over.

“Steve!” Eddie shouted, not even bothering to pause as he picked Steve up in a bone crushing hug and spun them both around.

Steve startled and initially began to try and pull away, but when it was clear Eddie wasn’t letting go anytime soon, Steve gave into the temptation. He buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder with a soft laugh, hugging back and taking in a deep breath.

There it was. Motor oil and 2-in-1 shampoo. The same brand that Steve had just bought a bottle of, even though he would never even dream of using that crap in his hair. The bottle wasn’t in his bathroom, it was buried deep in his closet, sitting in a box alongside a bloodstained denim vest, and a few of Eddie’s shirts that he had shamelessly stolen right after Eddie told them all he was leaving.

It was the smell. Steve would still have Eddie’s voice through the phone, but he hadn’t wanted to lose that smell just yet.

It was Eddie Smell, a scent that made the tension in his shoulders fade away, and made him feel safe no matter what. Steve fisted his hands into Eddie’s shirt, holding him even closer and forcing back the stupid tears that were starting to prick in his eyes again as he took a deep breath and lost himself in it.

“Eddie,” Steve practically sighed, unable to let go. He pulled back just enough to look at Eddie’s face.

His eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks were flushed. Steve wanted to kiss him. He was so close. One foot of space, just a little nudge forward.

“What are you doing here?” He asked instead.

“I forgot something,” Eddie stated with an absolutely gorgeous grin, keeping his arms around Steve too.

“I think I’ll just go grab that right now,” Robin said with an innocent little whistle, skipping away.

“Thanks, Buckley,” Eddie called after her, and she turned, walking backwards as she gave a silly two fingered salute.

“Both of you thanking me before you should,” Robin said, shaking her head. She faced forward again, disappearing into Steve’s house without any explanation.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, not liking the silence that followed his question. When it came to his kids, silence was exceptionally bad. He looked around Eddie, and, very conveniently, all of them seemed to be preoccupied looking at the trees or the clouds in the sky.

Unacceptable.

“Dustin,” Steve barked, startling the boy into making eye contact, “Tell me what’s going on,”

“Why me?” Dustin groaned, and Steve smirked.

“Because you can’t keep secrets,” He replied. It was true, he had never met a kid who had more trouble keeping his mouth shut. He had told Will about his surprise party not even two hours after Mike had suggested the idea to all of them.

“Mayfield,” Eddie said almost immediately after Steve’s explanation. Max burst into action, smacking Dustin’s shin with her closest cane. He howled in pain and hopped on one foot, giving her a dirty look.

“Say nothing. Put your hands over your ears if you have to,” She instructed him, glancing away from Dustin for just a second only to give her babysitter a completely unremorseful shrug, “Sorry Steve,”

“What are you doing? What did you forget at my house?” Steve demanded, releasing Eddie just so he could put his hands on his hips. It wasn’t quite as effective when it was Eddie or the other adults, but Steve’s Mom Pose did still carry some weight.

“Hopefully something you’re gonna like?” Eddie offered, finally stepping back to give Steve space. He was playing with his hair the way he did when he was nervous, glancing up at Steve from behind his locks with those beautiful browns.

Steve didn’t want to make Eddie feel bad, but he was also beyond confused, and the whiplash of emotions hitting him all afternoon was more than intense. Just as he was about to interrogate further, Argyle’s van roared into Loch Nora, horn beeping and radio turned up to maximum volume.

“Sorry we’re late, Argyle got lost,” Jonathan said as he climbed out. Steve wasn’t sure how they could be late coming to his damn house when he hadn’t even invited him, but he just needed to accept the fact that he was the only one not in the know right now.

“Your corn roads are confusing,” Argyle complained as they walked over together, “Did you tell him yet?”

“Well I would if everyone would just stop interrupting,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes, as if he had any right to be annoyed right now.

“What is going on?” Steve groaned, over the theatrics. He had been expecting to come home and drown his sorrows in cheap wine and terrible movies. Now the object of those sorrows was standing right in front of him, acting like he had any right to be there.

“I told you, I forgot something,” Eddie repeated and Steve laughed incredulously.

“What?! What could you have possibly forgotten that was this important?” Steve asked, throwing up his hands. At this rate, he was just going to open the door and let Eddie take whatever he damn wanted from the stupid house.

“You.”

What?

“What?” Steve asked, his voice almost too faint to be heard, all traces of anger vanishing.

“I forgot you,” Eddie stated, like that sentence made a lick of sense.

A commotion at the door grabbed their attention. Robin was standing on the front step, a giant cardboard box in her hands, and two of his duffle bags at his feet.

“Hey! Jackasses! Stop ogling and help me put this stuff in Eddie’s van,” She called.

The kids jumped into action, running over to take things from her and start loading the back of Eddie’s van with Steve’s things. Jonathan and Argyle walked past Steve and Eddie to help them, but Nancy stopped at their sides, holding out a folder that looked just like the one she had given Eddie.

“I put in a bunch of applications for you. You got into Hunter, Pace, and Hofstra. Sorry I forged your signature,” Nancy apologized, not sounding sorry in the slightest as she continued to leaf through the thick stack of papers and point things out, “I also included a whole section on community colleges, and some financial aid stuff that you can apply for. There’s also the same information I gave Eddie about jobs in towns around the city, but I think you should go to one of the three 4-years. They each have a really good education program that I think you would like,”

With that, Nancy stood on her tiptoes and kissed Steve’s cheek, handing over the folder and giving Eddie a raised eyebrow look.

“Remember what we talked about, Munson,” She teased in a warning tone, “This one is special, you treat him right,”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie said with full seriousness.

And then Nancy was gone, inserting herself into the messy game of Car Jenga that the rest were playing and barking out orders left and right.

“I don’t understand,” Steve said helplessly. At first he had been up in the air, watching as thoughts lazily drifted past him. Now he was hurtling towards Earth as his mind raced for all the possibilities, all the different things that might be happening, all the different reasons Eddie might have thought he was forgetting Steve.

He had one idea that he really wanted to be right, but it was insane. Completely, wholly, utterly insane. And if he let himself think that he was right and he turned out to be wrong, Steve just knew he would never recover. He would hit the ground with a crash, breaking all of his bones and losing any ability to ever breathe again.

Luckily, Eddie would never let him fall for that long.

“I can’t stay in Hawkins. I just can’t. I tried, but it just- there’s too much,” Eddie started, waving a hand around his head as if that explained what ‘too much’ was, “But I kept trying. I kept trying because I knew I couldn't stay, but I also knew I couldn’t lose you.”

“Eddie-”

“I mean, that’s crazy isn’t it?” Eddie said cutting Steve off with a nervous little giggle and diving right into full ramble, “It’s totally bonkers. But it’s true. I wake up, and you’re the first thing I think about. I go to sleep, and there you are, the last thought of my day. I always want to know what you think about things, and I always want to be the one that makes you laugh, because you have the most wonderful laugh I’ve ever heard, and I want to be the one you bitch to about everything, and the thought of not getting to see you every single day made my heart hurt so bad I was sure I was dying.”

It was all starting to sound like a confession, but Steve couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He was still kind of convinced he was about to wake up in bed, and all of this would just be a dream.

“So I figured it out. I can’t stay, but I also can’t leave without you,” Eddie declared, confirming all of Steve’s greatest and worst fears.

Eddie was still leaving.

He was leaving, but he wanted Steve to go with him.

Here it was. A perfect ticket out of Hawkins with the guy that Steve wanted more than he had ever wanted anyone before. It was everything he could ever want being handed to him on a silver plate…

And Steve was shaking his head no.

“I-” Steve paused, mentally screaming at himself for saying no. He wanted to say yes more than anything, but the idea of leaving today was completely incomprehensible, “I can’t just leave. I- you- what about my job?”

“Oh you quit when I did,” Robin called out, revealing that the rest had definitely been eavesdropping the entire time. They were just standing around the van now, openly staring and watching to see what Steve said.

“No I didn’t,” Steve argued back. As far as he knew he was on shift tomorrow at noon.

“Ahhhhh, yeah you did. Or I did for you,” She snorted, laughing at her own memories, “And ‘we’ told Keith that he was a creepy pervert who could go fuck himself, so you’re really not getting that job back,”

No job tying him here anymore. So why was Steve still shaking his head no?

“The kids?” Steve wondered aloud.

Yes. That’s why he was saying no. He had seven nuggets here who depended on him for rides, and advice, and support.

Never mind that they were getting old enough to drive on their own, and Steve could give them pretty much everything they needed over the phone. Steve still just couldn’t up and abandon them without a second thought.

He looked at his little group of brats that really weren’t so little anymore, searching their faces for even a hint of hesitation. If he saw even one of them wasn’t okay with this, he was saying no and sticking to it.

But they were all just smiling like they already knew what he was going to do.

“You know I think we might just survive without you,” Mike deadpanned. Max elbowed him, and Will rolled his eyes at his best friend’s lack of emotional intelligence.

“And, Eddie promised to make sure you call us each personally at least once a week, with one big group call on Sundays,” Lucas tacked on, bounding over and adding one more sheet to the top of Steve’s folder, “We put together this chart for you,”

Steve looked down at the light green construction paper. It was a drawing of a tree adorned with star stickers and little stick figures of him and the party on different branches with the days of the week written on them. The words ‘MOMS PHONE TREE’ were printed bright and bold at the top, and Will and Erica’s signatures were both at the bottom. Each of the kids had taken a different day, except for Lucas and Erica, who were sharing Saturday.

“They’re the age we were when we started dealing with all of this, so if something does go wrong, they’ll be able to handle it until we get home,” Jonathan said with a shrug, pulling Steve’s attention away from the paper, “Plus, everything is over, right El?”

She paused, letting her eyes dart around for a second before turning to Steve with one of her quiet little smiles.

“Nothing bad,” She reassured him, “We are safe now,”

They were safe.

The statement meant more than just safe from Upside Down Shenanigans, more than safe from having to fight monsters that lurked in the dark. They didn’t need Steve to protect them now, and they wouldn’t be the reason he held himself back.

“I told you, they’re not babies anymore,” Nancy said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. She was giving Steve one of those pin-him-down-and-examine-him looks, the kind she always gave him when she knew he was trying to hide, “They’ll be okay,”

“Besides you guys are coming to visit, obviously,” Dustin said, his stupid irritating tone grating on Steve’s nerves even as it made him smile, “All holidays, my birthday, and at least two weeks over the summer. And we’re coming to you too.”

Not losing them forever then. Not forgetting to keep in touch. When Steve had been on the other side of this, he had been sure that they would stop wanting to call.

Now that he was the one who might be going, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to lose touch with any of them.

But Steve was still shaking his head, and he had no idea why.

“I can’t. I mean, I can’t just go. That’s crazy, that’s-”

“Steve,”

Eddie’s voice dragged Steve’s attention to him, making him go silent and still. Any nerves Eddie had been having before had magically evaporated into thin air. He cupped Steve’s face, mouth turning up ever so slightly into a cocky smirk when Steve gasped as his fingers touched his cheek.

“You can stay if you really want to. I’m not gonna tie you up and throw you in my trunk,” Eddie teased, pausing before his voice got even softer, words meant just for the two of them, “But I have a feeling you don’t want to stay, and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

It was the truth, but it was too raw, too real. It exposed the deepest darkest parts of him. That underneath the bravado and the stupid levels of courage- Steve was afraid. He was afraid of being alone, but he was also afraid of not being alone.

He had been alone pretty much all his life, and the idea of having people, only to eventually lose them, was just petrifying.

“Also, I stole your dandelion wish. Sorry,” Eddie added, completely throwing Steve for a loop.

“My dandelion?” He questioned, not following Eddie’s train of thought.

“Yep! I stole your wish, and I’m really hoping mine comes true, so you’re gonna have to take yours back,” Eddie replied.

“...What’d you wish for?” Steve asked, his heart racing with the possibilities.

“I wished for you not to punch me in the face after I do this,” Eddie answered, bringing his other hand up before capturing Steve in a kiss.

It was a chaste little thing, barely more than a press of their lips. As far as first kisses go, it was the most innocent one he had ever had. When Eddie pulled away, there was a pretty blush starting on his cheeks, and the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen.

Steve was a total addict, and one taste of this drug was enough to have him hooked for life.

He laughed softly, throwing caution to the wind as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and dragged him into a proper kiss. It was way messier than their first one, and he could hear the kids moaning and whining about how ‘gross’ it was, but Steve couldn't remember ever being happier than he was at this moment.

Eddie was leaving.

Eddie was never going to stay. He had always known that. But that didn’t mean Steve had to be left behind.

Eventually they had to come up for air, and they broke apart with a sigh, pressing their foreheads together as Steve let his eyes slip shut, contentment washing over his entire body like a cool breeze.

“So what do you say?” Eddie joked, already knowing the answer.

“I say that I’m glad you stole my wish,” Steve whispered against his lips, already leaning back in.

Tag List: @alyelf @ceaselessly-watching @dbquills @knightofthieves @b-icetea @henderdads

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moodymisty · 6 months

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So I had these sitting around for a bit and didn't have any use for them, so i just decided to clean it a bit and then post it. So here, two snippets of a nailsremoved!AU to be balm on the wound of the inevitable tragedy that is Angron. Apologies about any incohesiveness due to it's rough nature. I'm trying to get more confidence in my own writing and posting more of the ideas that I don't spend 80 years on.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader (an AU of my 'stolen historitor' saga)

Warnings: None really apart from typical 40k talk and Angron's general existence

Snippet 1

The only word you can use to possibly describe it, is euphoric.

Never in a million years, in all of your hopes and prayers and desperate pleas, did you ever think it would even be possible. Even he hadn't; Though as with much of his life, he'd accepted his inevitable fate with the same despondent anger as with much else.

You shouldn't be awake, but you can't help but watch him for a moment.

Angron sleeps sitting. Perhaps its a remnant of his time in the gladiator pits. That would make the most logical sense to you, watching as his chin presses against his collarbone. He has one leg bent and one straight out, his left elbow resting on the bent one. He's prepared to fight, even in his sleep. Even his chainaxes are still within reach. You know if you even shifted towards them, they'd be in his hands within the blink of an eye.

But it's still odd to you, not seeing them. The nails were such a poignant, overt part of Angron's silhouette, that their removal has been an adjustment. It feels like a part of him is missing; In an odd sort of way.

You accidentally shift, and he opens his eyes. You smile at him.

He grunts. You snuffle closer to him and lay against his side, content to stay there for the time being. He doesn't remove you, so you assume it's fine.

You’re happy, but it’s bittersweet.

You know that while Angron no longer feels the full punishment of the nails against every other emotion but rage, that portions of the nails that couldn’t be removed; The pieces that replaced parts of his brain will always give him pain. To say that he is cured is laughable as like some sort of sick curse, he can have no relief in his life. A more accurate description would be that they neutered the Butcher’s Nails to give Angron some breathing room.

"Does it still hurt?"

You say softly, feeling his massive hand flop on your hip.

While there is no longer any nails for you to soothe, he does still feel as if your company gives him relief. Perhaps that's just another human emotion he's only just now been able to taste.

“No.”

You don’t know if he says it because it’s true, or he merely mistakes the neutering of pain as full relief it would make sense, given how long he’s lived with the nails; The pain becoming part of him and even its slight removal could feel like it was gone.

He could also just be lying. Though perhaps it would be more accurate to say refusing to show weakness. Someone like him won't simply admit that pain is affecting him. He'll never show his stomach to anyone, now matter how close you may be to him.

He stares at you. Hard. It’s always impossible to tell what he’s thinking until he inevitably says it.

“You worry too much.”

Your lips purse, and Angron grips your face not too hard, but hard enough to make your cheeks empty of air.

"I'm not the only one. I'm just the only one who admits it." The gladiator makes a disgruntled, irritated face and looks away.

Snippet 2

What an odd moment in time, Sanguinius thinks.

To imagine that out of all of his brothers, the one hailing from Nuceria would be the one to change so drastically. And to think they'd almost thought him lost.

Such is the nature of life, he guesses. For things to change so quickly. Even in their long lives it doesn't seem to slow down in the slightest.

Sanguinius looks across the massive room, watching the World Eater's Primarch interact with the only human he's given time of day. A question must've been asked, as they look up to him with a curiosity and Angron glances down to give an amused scoff.

It's barely there, but he sees it. It's just barely noticeable in the slightly softened look in his eyes. But the angel is keen, and catches it. He speaks up to either of the men in his presence, to neither in particular.

"I've never seen that man crack even the smallest smile. And it's been, what, three hundred years?"

Sanguinius' wings are fluffed, comfortable in the presence of two of his closest brothers. They've even seen Konrad smile; Though context proves to be a valuable marker in regards to him in particular. Magnus crosses his arms and looks towards Horus, not having heard him when the two of them exchanged an amused chuckle at Sanguinus' observation. Odd, for the Warmaster. Normally whenever he's in the Angel's company on Terra, it's hard to keep a laugh off of his lips.

"Have you, brother?"

Horus looks towards his brothers with a soft, charming smirk, one that fades ever so slightly as he looks to Angron. He thinks back, trying to remember a moment where the man hailing from Nuceria had ever shown anything but rage boiling just beneath the surface.

He lets out a soft chuckle when he comes up completely empty, and shakes his head.

"No, I don't think I have."

With all three in agreement Sanguinus makes some sort of lighthearted jest to Magnus at Angron's expense, looking away from the Warmaster for a moment. He doesn't let his perfect veneer drop, as he sees the old gladiator speak words not audible to him at you.

Horus watches for a moment longer, and then walks away.

#not putting it in all the main tags because it's just a blurb #angron x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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bjarkanart · 7 months

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I'm kinda nervous about this but here we go. I've been trying to write a fanfic for a while now and it might be one of the weirdest crossovers out there but I hope you'll bear with me here. This would be a crossover between Critical Role and Death Stranding.

Now, I know Death Stranding isn't everyone's cup of tea but I really like the environment, the story and the overall vibe of the game really. And I thought what if Imogen was a porter, mostly so she could get away from everyone's thoughts back in the city? Explore the world as a porter and she'd meet Laudna and the rest of Bell's Hells along the way? And you know, just see where it goes?

But yeah, I thought I'd share the intro here cause I feel like I can't trust my own judgment on this anymore since I've spent so long rereading and rewriting parts over and over again and I know it's not a good thing. I think I'm approaching writing like I approach drawing but where I'd kind of skip the draft part of writing and jump right to the details like some people, myself included, would sometimes skip the sketch part where it can be real messy and it doesn't have to be perfect on the first try but you just go straight for the details and make your life harder in the process.

Anyway, here's the intro, I hope it's not as bad as I think. Let me know what you think!

Also, the lyrics are from the ost if you're not familiar with the game.

youtube

________________________

'See the sunset

The day is ending

Let that yawn out

There’s no pretending…’

Is someone's singin'?

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the voice sounded so distant, and the words were so hard to make out at first, the voice might as well be humming. It was like shouting in the main hall of a distribution centre, but Imogen recognised the melody. The notes echoed through her mind like a bullet ricocheting off the walls of an empty hangar as her brain tried to make sense of the jumble of words.

Imogen couldn't tell where she was. The room she was in was silent, save for the melody she could hear from time to time in her rare bouts of consciousness.

The voice was comforting in its rasp. It had a warmth to it that both made her want to drift off to sleep again and wake up to properly listen to it and praise the person looking after her. It sounded so sweet; Imogen could swear she tasted the slightest hint of honey on her tongue for a second…

Being a porter, Imogen’s had her fair share of accidents on the job. They were inevitable but nothing she couldn't handle as she would usually sleep it off and be on her way the following day, like nothing happened.

She could tell this one must have been… something, if her current state was any indicator.

And while waking up with no recollection of what happened to her was unnerving and confusing at first, she was taken aback by the lack of nightmares and felt a small form of relief at not waking up with a start for once.

As reality hit her, she couldn't remember ever feeling this awful in her life.

Her legs and feet ached in a way that made it nearly impossible to move them, her back was unbearably stiff, and she could feel pins and needles in her fingers where her red and purple lightning-like scars started and extended past her elbows, the marks prickling under her skin. Her face started to feel warm, uncomfortably so.

Imogen felt a presence next to her, a cold hand resting gently on her forehead and a thumb brushing softly over her brow, cooling her skin and calming her down.

Shh… You’re okay darling. Go back to sleep, you’re safe.

It was that voice again. Almost a whisper in her mind. Like the softest breeze through her hair or a soothing balm on a bruise. Like a soft melody lulling her to sleep.

Curiously, as though the voice held all the answers in the world, as though it was the voice of reason, Imogen felt compelled to listen to it.

She felt... safe.

So, after trying for a while to figure out what happened to her and how she got here, wherever that was, realising she was indeed still too tired to even think about trying to move, Imogen surrendered to exhaustion, falling into another dreamless slumber.

***

Imogen could faintly hear the commotion going on around her as the dust settled around her after collapsing to the ground. She heard rushed footsteps coming towards her and someone calling her name. One voice quickly turned into multiple panicked voices shouting, giving directions and telling her to stay awake, all at the same time. She couldn’t make sense of it all and the young porter was exhausted, the world was spinning around her. She was shaking and could barely feel her legs and her arms seemed too heavy for her to lift.

She didn’t even know if she was cold or hot and if her heart was racing or beating a lot slower than it should. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. Everything was a blur. Everything hurt.

She couldn’t comprehend any of the words coming out of those people’s mouths anymore.

She was adrift. Lost in a sea of sounds her brain just wouldn’t register as she tried in vain to collect herself.

She'd had enough voices in her head when she was still stuck in the city. Why couldn't she ever get some peace and quiet?

Her body was begging for some well-deserved rest, a searing pain settling above her left eye, throbbing and making her nauseous as the overcast sky above her burned her eyes when she tried to open them, and the world kept spinning and spinning endlessly.

Voices kept calling to her, still telling her to stay awake.

Make it stop… she heard herself whine faintly.

So, against better judgement, not caring what she was told, she closed her eyes, shutting out the blurry figures hurrying about, the hands shaking her shoulders and lightly tapping her cheeks to keep her alert. The shouting, the urgency, the pleading...

Then everything went quiet.

Then darkness.

'I will hold you

And protect you

So, let love warm you

Till the morning… ‘

________________________

And there you go!

Again, please let me know what you think, I'd be happy to have some feedback even if it's only the introduction. I have more written for it but I'm still figuring out if I want this to be a one-shot or a few chapters long, it'll depend on how much I write if I get enough motivation for it, I guess.

Oh and if I ever post this, I named myself Snappy-Twig on Ao3, I just love that codename so much, I coulnd't not use it 😂

#critical role #cr3 #bells hells #laudna #imogen temult #imodna #imodna fanfic #cr fanfic #fanfic #laudna singing lullabies anyone?#fanfic idea #crossover #critical role meets death stranding #please bear with me?#Youtube

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elminx · 2 years

Text

In my experience, the best skill that a person can learn is the knowledge of when to withdraw and regroup.

We all need downtime. I suspect not even the truest extroverts can be "on" all of the time.

This wasn't a skill that I was taught to do.

I'm learning how to counter it though - finally, after all of these years. I know that for myself when my brain starts to overload to the point that it is just spinning and spinning, it is time to step back. Time to step away. To go back to the basics of spending time with myself and tending to myself.

A lot has changed. I am trying to get back into the practice of working with yin yoga to center myself but I need to relearn what poses will and will not work with my current health concerns. I've been working on trying to treat my pain and inflammation in a more holistic way. I'm realizing this summer that I have gained enough distance from the events of 2017-2019 (that fucked up my whole world) to be able to do really good shadow work on them now.

This week, I have a few allies. Hibiscus is my constant companion. Other than coffee, hibiscus is the one thing that I drink year-round. In the summer, I look to enhance her cooling properties by adding some peppermint from my garden. To comfort me through the shadow work, I am asking for the aid of sweet lemon balm, and to soothe my frayed nerves, I turn to tulsi, my adaptogen of choice.

Here I again, sharing another look at the way that I use long-form infusions in my craft. I tend to let this tea sit on my altar for about 12 hours (if the A/C is on, which it often is or our dishes never dry) or in the fridge if it is not. I make it strong and dilute it with iced water to the flavor profile I feel like at the moment. (I also send it in a water bottle to work with my partner who often is in an old mill building with poor ventilation)

It's on days like these that you have to stay aware and honor your small wins. That trauma dumping first thing in the morning didn't send me into a complete tailspin. I am existing in a place of some constant level of physical and emotional discomfort and that is completely okay. I can see that I am struggling and take the steps to correct it before I spin entirely out of control.

#witchblr #words #mine #kitchen witch #tea #herbal tea #herbal allies #hibiscus #peppermint #tulsi #lemon balm

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ppersonna · 3 years

Text

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks and @hongism for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily.

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it.

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water.

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk.

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo.

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?”

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above.

“You call Jimin a prince?”

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband.

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.”

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.”

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own.

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.”

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.”

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid.

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom.

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed.

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it.

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can.

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone.

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway.

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk.

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read.

He just matched with YOU.

His best friend.

His secret, lifelong crush.

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it.

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen.

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other.

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message.

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone.

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend.

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone.

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion.

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff.

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband.

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line.

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend.

“It’s nothing!”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.”

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off.

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams.

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback.

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly.

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures.

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen.

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is.

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork.

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you.

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause.

“What’s up?” He asks curiously.

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner.

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours.

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own.

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to.

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator.

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze.

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face.

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest.

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others.

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park.

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too.

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth.

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm.

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing.

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it.

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck.

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes.

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently.

“And I promise to never run away from you again.”

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself.

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with.

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing.

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss.

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours.

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly.

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?”

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement.

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.”

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited.

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs.

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.”

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable.

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan.

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently.

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue.

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue.

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully.

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.”

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body).

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are.

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down.

“Still dreaming?”

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire.

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes.

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout.

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?”

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug.

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing.

“I plan to find out everything.”

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.”

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss.

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you.

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body.

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands.

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.”

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.”

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off.

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt.

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation.

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion.

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship.

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister.

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

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merakiui · 3 years

Text

A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere kaedehara kazuha #yandere kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha

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tumbledfreckles · 3 years

Note

Your shirtless JP submission was incredible ❤

What I was going to request is a combination of shirtless James and your current "names" drabble kick. It may kill me, but I'm willing to take the risk if any inspiration strikes you 😉

I hope this is okay! I don't think it quite beats the locker room, but this is what came out!

As moments went, it wasn’t one of her best.

Lily could admit this quite readily from her current position. She could also admit she hadn’t meant to end up here. Mistakes had been made. Consequences must now be worn.

Fuck.

If only it wasn’t so embarrassing.

If only he hadn’t taken off his shirt.

“Evans?”

“I’m fine.” The words were bitten out of her. Automatic. More than a tad defensive.

“You sure? You hit the ground pretty hard.”

“It was nothing. I’m fine.”

“Can I at least help you up?”

Lily blinked one eye open, seeing a shadowed silhouette above her. Her other eye slowly followed, though she squinted and grimaced in pain. The dull ache in the back of her head pounded with much sharper alacrity as she recognised the shape of James above her. As if she needed to. As if she hadn’t already recognised his voice.

“Sure,” she sighed, taking the hand he offered.

His warm calloused fingers clasped around her own as a spark travelled from her head all the way to her fingertips. Or maybe the spark had started in her fingertips? Maybe it had started in his?

Merlin, her head hurt.

James pulled Lily up with ease, catching her around the waist with his other hand to steady her once she was on her feet. She felt her eyes close involuntarily, swaying precariously on the soft grass. Her head pounded, spinning the world in circles, and she cursed her clumsiness for making such poor decisions on her behalf.

A low groan escaped her throat.

“Alright, Evans?” Her hair was brushed back from her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheek. “That was quite a spill.”

Lily forced herself to open her eyes, but the glare that followed was completely natural. “Peachy.”

“Do you want me to take you to Pomfrey?”

“Definitely not.” Belated embarrassment, as the throbbing ceased just enough to allow other thoughts, other emotions, tinged her cheeks red, and she ducked her gaze.

Holy shit.

And there.

There it was.

Right there, right in front of her, way too close for comfort, way way too close for her to not want to stare, want to touch, want to lick, was the reason for her fall.

Lily couldn’t tear her gaze away. James’ shirtless chest, bare, ripped stomach stared back at her. Smooth, tanned skin shone, the occasional bead of sweat highlighting muscle definition in a way that left her mouth dry. Toned muscles pulled and stretched, a fine dusting of hair trailed down under the waistband of his Quidditch pants.

Look up, Lily.

Her eyes flew back up to James’ face, to find him looking at her strangely. For several awkward, humiliating moments, Lily thought he’d realised she’d been gawking at him, and was about to take the mick something terrible. Then she realised he’d asked her something, probably more than once.

“Sorry, James, what did you say?”

“I asked if you remember what -” James stopped short and frowned. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Lily blinked, a still painful process that required a lot more conscious effort than it should. “I asked what you said?”

He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking, “No, not that.” He stepped a bit closer, squeezing at her hip. The touch startled her. She hadn’t even realised James still held her. A feat that hinted strongly at an emerging concussion, given she’d recently succumbed to the idea that she’d developed a constant awareness of him.

“What?” She wanted to move back, but his grip was insistent.

“You called me James.” His tone was soft, uncertain.

“What? No,” she went to shake her head, but stopped quickly when her vision blurred. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did,” he argued, lips quirking at the ends. “Just how hard did you hit your head?”

“Hard,” she sighed. It was the wrong thing to say, however true. James started to frown, concern taking over his features, and she hastened to put him at ease. It wasn’t his fault. Well, it was, but not in a way she could tell him. “Hardly, it was just a bump. It’s nothing, I’m alright, stop fuss…” her gaze had snagged on those abdominals again, chiseled and just begging to be fondled.

Jesus Christ, he was fit.

“Evans?”

“James, I’m fine.”

He blanched, letting go of her waist this time. He stared at her, and Lily didn’t blame him. Looking back wasn’t an option, looking down is what had gotten her into this mess in the first place, so Lily fixed her gaze just over his shoulder, just past his ear, out toward the lake, instead.

“You did it again.”

Lily huffed. Rolled her eyes. Refused to engage.

“You called me James, again.”

“I have a concussion. It slipped out.” She tried to make herself sound bored. Undisturbed.

But she wasn’t bored.

And she was disturbed.

She’d never called him James.

She’d also never tripped over herself because he’d pulled his shirt off, walking back across the grounds after practise, but that seemed a lesser issue right about now.

James stepped closer, reaching to take her elbow. “Just let me take you to the Hospital Wing.”

“No.” She tried to pull away, but he held tight.

“You’re not yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You called me James.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight!”

James let loose a growl. “Well, which is it? Either you’re fine, or you’re not.”

“I, you, well, uh,” Lily gave her own small fit of noise, frustration, confusion, and embarrassment and pain boiling over.

“Evans?”

“I don’t know, alright?”

“Let me-”

“No.”

“Evans, you’re -”

“Stop it! Look, could you just put a bloody shirt on so I can think straight?”

Oops.

James stared at her for a second time. Probably wondering if she’d lost her mind. To be fair, Lily didn’t think he’d be wrong coming to that conclusion. She felt absolutely stark, raving mad.

“Lily.”

He’d never called her that, either. The use of her first name tipped her gaze to his. His thumb helped, then gently traced the edge of her jaw. It softened the blow her ego had incurred, dulled the drilling in her skull. He smiled, a tender, gentle, beautiful thing that felt like a balm.

It made his next words that much more jarring.

“Are you telling me you hit your head because I took my shirt off?”

Turns out nothing will clear your head like a very fit, very shirtless guy realising that you might be attracted to him.

“No.” Lily backpedalled. Hard.

“Is it possible you were distracted by me?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No.”

“Evans.”

“You’ve got it wrong.”

“Evans.”

“That is not what happened.”

“Lily!” Her own name brought her up short again, just like his had him. It sounded so different when he said it. He took advantage of her quiet and continued. “It would be okay, if it was, you know.” James ran a hand through his hair, before reaching out, twisting a lock of her own around his finger. “I’ve done far worse for your attention.”

“I’m aware.” He was so close, her voice lacked its usual bite. “That’s not what this is.”

He was so warm. So practically naked.

“What is it then?” He was practically against her now, her jumper brushing against his skin.

“Concussion.” Her hands came out to push him away, but the moment they landed on his skin, she became mesmerised by the silky feel, the heat that radiated out of him, and couldn’t complete the action.

James’ hands both cradled her head now, soothing and stroking and caring. Lily tried not to wince as his hands ran over the emerging lump at the back of her head, but he saw it anyway. His frown was back as he looked down into her eyes. “I’m taking you to Pomfrey in a minute. And I’m not listening to arguments.”

How was she meant to counterpoint when he was overwhelming her? She nodded dutifully.

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. “I’m sorry for making you fall over,” he murmured.

“You didn’t” Lily tried to refute him, but James wasn’t listening as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Let me make it up to you, then we’ll get you checked out.”

“What -”

Oh.

As far as apologies went, it was a pretty good one. James caught her lips with his, pressing his body against her, angling her head delicately, as if she was this fragile, breakable, precious thing. It was undeniably sweet, with more in that kiss than Lily’s poor, melted, muddled brain could process. The tingles she’d felt in her hand, the ones she’d thought had come from her brain, she knew now they were definitely from him, as they raced through every location where their bodies connected.

James was smiling as he pulled back. “I should take my shirt off more often.”

Lily winced, though she knew her lips curved upwards as well. “Only if there’s a bed, or something soft behind me.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean -”

“I reckon that could probably be arranged,” James chuckled as he put his arm around her. “But let's go get that head checked out, make sure you're not going to change your mind when the world stops spinning.”

Unlikely, Lily thought. But she wasn’t going to ruin a pleasant trip back to the castle, tucked up in James’ arms, by letting him know. If she was lucky, played her cards right, maybe he’d even apologise again on the way.

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #freckles writes #mutual love #prompts #canon jily #hogwarts jily

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pale-silver-comb · 3 years

Text

Eight years later, and my go-to for when I’m sad is still to write a crying Derek Hale with a gentle and patient Stiles holding him.

Derek was crying. He was standing in the middle of a parking lot and he was crying.

Derek couldn't remember the last time he cried. These days, he usually opted for punching something. It was much easier than missing his mom's fingers gently combing through his hair when he'd hurt himself or his sister pretending to fight with the monsters under his bed when he couldn't sleep at night.

Crying always made him feel lonely, and he'd had enough loneliness for a lifetime.

Which might explain why he'd somewhat unexpectedly burst into tears the moment he realised the last time he was hugged was the day Laura left to buy dinner the night they returned to Beacon Hills and never came back.

Stiles, to his credit, was still hugging him, but Derek wasn't entirely sure it wasn't out of awkwardness, since the hug had been nothing more than a greeting. The type of hug you give an old friend when your body moves before your brain catches up to remind you you've not seen the person in years.

"Hey, um, Derek?"

Stiles' voice was a soothing balm, even after all this time, and it made Derek's cheeks flush the way his cheeks always have around Stiles.

Grunting, he forced himself to shove Stiles away, embarrassed over the way he was beginning to tremble.

Derek had thought of Stiles often, after the fire. Recalling a wink or a particularly bad joke or absurd fact. He was ashamed to say in his weakest moments he clung to those memories like a life-line.

Even so, he couldn't- wouldn’t- pull Stiles back into his world. Not now. Not when Stiles’ eyes were still bright and his smile still big. He would not be responsible for extinguishing the last bright thing in this town, not after years of watching Laura try and try and try to reach out to him until he no longer recognised the person he'd become.

He wanted it though. He wanted Stiles' particular brand of unusual and fiercely determined comfort. Boy, did he want it, even if he could barely remember what it felt like.

"Derek?" Stiles said again, still there, offering him a smile like he was in danger of spooking Derek if he did anything else.

He was probably right.

Derek opened his mouth to yell at Stiles to leave but Stiles' smile took fast hold of him, gentle and patient in the way that was only ever reserved for those he loved, and Derek found himself making a sound he didn't even realise had come from him until Stiles was rushing forward and was holding him again.

Derek wanted to laugh, entirely used to Stiles' penchant for poking wild bears. Or, in this case, unstable werewolves.

This didn't feel like poking though. This didn't feel like a dangerous game Stiles wanted to play. This felt like safety and home and a hundred other things Derek was certain had literally gone up in flames years ago.

He couldn't bring himself to hug Stiles back but that didn't seem to matter to Stiles, who just held him tighter and, after a moment of deliberation, carefully gripped the back of Derek's neck.

Derek whimpered, knowing Stiles knew he wasn’t supposed to touch a werewolf there. Knowing Derek had always craved it from Stiles anyway.

Derek wasn't surprised at how quickly he relaxed into it. The hand was stronger, bigger, but it fit around Derek like a familiar mould.

His mother used to say someone must have created Stiles with Derek in mind. Derek used to think he understood what that meant.

He'd been wrong.

"Yeah, see?" Stiles whispered, pushing out his own breath and pulling Derek in even closer, "you're alright. Touch can be scary, I know, but it's okay to want it, it's okay. I'm here now, big guy. Your old buddy, Stiles. Sarcasm left at the door. I'll pick it up on the way out. You can let go now. You're home. I'm here."

Derek inhaled sharply, preparing to fight it. Stiles shouldn't have to be here, but the words cut something loose inside him because Stiles knew him - he still knew him - and he let Stiles continue to hold him as he sank to the ground in the middle of the afternoon, in an abandoned parking lot, and buried his face in his once best friend's neck.

"You're the first person to-" he began to say, wanting to explain how different he'd become, how people avoided him now, how in the end he'd even managed to push his own sister away, but as always, the words eluded him and he wanted to scream.

Instead, he said, "Laura's mug is still sitting on the kitchen table. After the funeral, I...it's been six months but I can't wash it."

Stiles hummed softly, stroking Derek's back, tracing little triskelions along his spine, causing Derek to blink back more tears. Alpha. Beta. Omega. Family. Even after all these years, he remembered. Figured.

"Then we won't," Stiles said, apparently coming to a decision, and it felt so painfully familiar. "We'll plant it. Coffee's good for the earth. So, yeah, we'll plant it, okay? Derek? We'll make it nice, I promise. She’ll like it."

Derek nodded, too overwhelmed to answer.

He'd missed this. He'd missed this so much, and suddenly, he's ten years old again and it's his first day of school with his new heightened senses. He'd been having trouble controlling the shift over the summer and he decided to hide in the bathroom, terrified of something happening with so many new loud sounds and smells.

On the third day, Stiles had joined him and introduced himself. I told everyone you were having a party in here and I was the only one invited. Jackson's jealous, I can tell, but don't worry I won't let him bully you.

Suddenly, he's ten years old again, and just like before, Stiles Stilinski followed him when no-one else thought to, and changed his life forever.

"Stay," he swallowed around the word, hoping he wasn’t asking for too much. Hoping he was allowed this again. Hoping it wasn’t too-

"Derek," Stiles huffed, pressing a kiss to his temple, "I never left."

#sterek #eternalsterek #eternal sterek #em writes fic #canon divergence #hurt/comfort

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naralanis · 3 years

Text

little bumps in the road (pt. 11)

Previously on LBitR...

Lena is completely mortified, and untangles herself from Kara with a swift jump backwards with far more force than is perhaps warranted to push away a powerless Kryptonian.

“Lena?” Kara says, looking confused as Lena recoils as if she has been burned, eyes hurt. Lena takes another step away.

“Sorry,” Lena gasps out, hating how small and hoarse and weak her voice sounds. “I’m just gonna--I’m OK. I just need--” she walks backwards until she collides with the door, and immediately starts fumbling for the handle, taking long, miserable seconds to locate it. “I just need some air.”

Kara opens her mouth to say something, already taking a step in her direction, but Lena doesn’t give her the chance--she’s already bolting out of the room and slamming the door behind her, practically stumbling onto the motel’s nearly deserted car park.

She knows Alex will stop Kara from following after her, and for the moment, she is incredibly grateful for that--she doesn’t think she’ll survive another breakdown in Kara’s presence.

Lena sinks to plonk rather ungracefully right on the curb, between their Jeep and Alex’s atrociously parked motorcycle. Lena wants to go away, to put some distance between herself and the Danvers sisters, but she has nowhere to go, so she just rests her head on her knees and curls tight into herself.

She breathes in, deep and as slow as she can, and then out, once, twice, again and again. Lena hates feeling this weak, this helpless. Her mind is all she has, and if she can’t control her own thoughts, her own memories, then Lena’s got absolutely nothing left. Something is terrifyingly wrong with her--she knows it, can feel it so deeply and keenly in her bones, in her own subconscious.

Lena sits at the curb for quite some time, distracting herself by watching the cars speeding down the road from the space between her knees; fixates on the hum of the ice machine right behind her, and times her breaths to the slow, lazy flickering of the word VACANCY in a not-so-bright yellow neon.

The more she tries to think back to the Kryptonite incident--to place herself in the event, to remember what happened when and where--the more her brain hurts. It’s almost a physical pain, like her thoughts are loose cogs rattling around, bouncing and denting her skull. Her thoughts feel physically heavy, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can carry them.

She hears Kara and Alex talking in the room--their voices are muted, and Lena can’t quite make out what they’re saying, though she doesn’t really try. Instead, she focuses on other sounds--car doors slamming, an engine backfiring, and just. Breathes.

The sun is close to setting when she hears the door to their room opening--she doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Kara approaching with tentative steps. Kara’s red converse--stained with chocolate ice-cream--come into her field of view momentarily, before the blonde plops down next to her with a world-weary sigh.

“Turns out, bees like chocolate ice-cream,” she says matter-of-factly. “I dropped some on my shirt earlier and they were really after me. I had no idea bee stings hurt that bad!”

It’s clearly meant to humour Lena, and it works, somewhat. She lets out a little half-laugh, but the image of Kara actually feeling pain from something as innocuous as bees strikes an altogether different chord.

“So,” Kara continues, lightly bumping Lena’s shoulder with her own. “You good? You’ve been out here a while.”

Lena wants to say that no, she is very, very much nowhere near ‘good’ right now--she’s afraid she’s starting to lose her goddamn mind and she has no idea how to stop it, how to get back in control.

“I’m fine,”she says instead, looking down at the pavement between her knees, studying the fissures on the concrete.

To her credit, it doesn’t look like Kara believes her at all; but, also to her credit (not to mention Lena’s immense relief and gratitude) she doesn’t push the issue either.

“Alex was saying you figured out what’s wrong with me.”

Kara’s voice is nonchalant, a little forcibly disinterested, maybe, and she punctuates her question with an idle pull of the stubborn little weeds that managed to sprout from the cracks in the pavement. She tears at the leaves slowly, and for a moment all Lena can sense besides Kara’s presence (and her ill-concealed curiosity) is the sound of ripping leaves and the faint smell of freshly cut grass.

“Lena?” Kara prods gently.

“Alex didn’t tell you?”

Kara shrugs, looking at the little mound of leaves she’s torn, piled neatly on her thigh. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

Lena nods. “Yeah,” she confirms with a deep exhale. “I figured it out.”

Lena doesn’t need to look at Kara to know that she is smiling from ear-to-ear. It’s like she can feel the brightness of that grin the same way she feels the warmth of sunlight.

“Yes! That’s awesome, Lena!” Kara quips happily, nudging her shoulder again. “How do we fix it?”

“It’s actually quite simple,” Lena says, glad to have the opportunity to make her errant brain focus on something else. She’s already drawing up schematics and working through formulas in her head--she can’t wait until she has the proper equipment to actually work on it and distract herself from whatever spiral her mind’s sinking into.

“The Kryptonite bonded with some of your blood cells--well, traces of it did, anyway.” She explains. “We basically just have to figure out a way to filter them out; then you’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great news!” Kara laughs, hands clapping together in sheer excitement. “Rao, thank you, Lena.”

It’s the sheer sincerity in Kara’s tone that breaks her.

Lena feels the sob bubbling up her chest and her throat, but it wrenches its way out before she can even think about stopping it--her chest feels tight, and her eyes are burning, and withing seconds she’s sobbing in earnest, trembling and biting at her sleeve so she doesn’t wail like a child in this parking lot.

Kara, blessedly, doesn’t say anything at all. While Lena hugs her own knees to her chest, hides her face in her arms, Kara merely sits there, occasionally rubbing soothing circles on her back as Lena cries herself hoarse.

She cries until she’s spent, until she’s empty--of tears, of feelings, of thoughts in general. Her eyes are stinging and her cheeks are wet with tears, and Lena none-too-gently wipes at her face with her sodden sleeve, sniffling and trying to compose herself as Kara remains silent.

Without a word, Kara reaches under Lena’s chin and turns her head so their gazes meet. She looks blurry to Lena through the film of tears still clinging to her eyes, but the blonde merely clicks her tongue and wipes at a few of her errant tears with her thumb.

“You shouldn’t thank me,” Lena says through a shiver once her sobs subside; Kara wipes at her fresh tears slowly and tenderly, and Lena doesn’t feel like she deserves this gentleness. “You shouldn’t thank me, you shouldn’t comfort me. I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

“Maybe you are,” Kara says, though her tone is gentle. “But so am I.”

Lena snorts--it’s inelegant and a little ridiculous, but she can’t help it, and she’s not feeling particularly elegant at the moment. “I’m the one who shot you full of Kryptonite,” she points out.

Kara sighs. “And you’re the one taking it out of me. That’s that.”

“Kara... it’s not that simple,” Lena whispers. She knows she sounds defeated, but that is exactly how she feels. She wishes it could be that simple. She wishes they could erase everything and start over, or maybe never start at all and save themselves the heartbreak.

Kara shrugs. “Maybe not,” she concedes, hand returning to rub circles at Lena’s back. “But right now, it has to be. I need you, Lena--not just to get this Kryptonite out of me and to help me punch your brother into the sun, but I want--I need my best friend back. I need you.”

Lena wants to ask how on Earth Kara is able to make it that simple. She wants to point out that there is simply too much between them--too much they haven’t discussed, too many likes, too many accusations... there was so much anger and distrust between them, and now... well.

Lena’s running. Kara’s powerless. They have nothing left to lose. Except, maybe, each other. That thought is incredibly depressing, but, inexplicably, it makes Lena break into a shy smile--her lips tug upwards almost of their own volition.

Kara notices her tentative grin, and responds by taking Lena’s hands, hooking their pinkies together over that cracked curbside. The gesture has the same effect to Lena as one of her sunshine-warm hugs--it envelops her entirely, calms her like a soothing balm.

Lena’s whisper is soft, but she knows the Kryptonian doesn’t need her super hearing to hear it.

“I need you, too.”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

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atsukashii · 4 years

Text

❝remember me❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ you bought something forbidden from the universe, and now you must pay the consequences of buying yourself a soulmate

» CHARACTER PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x reader

» WORD COUNT: 10k

» GENRE: guardian angel au, ANGST with no happy ending

» WARNINGS: major character death, blood, violence

« masterlist || ao3 »

From the moment your eyes had first met a pair of red vermillion ones, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen them before. That you had witnessed a volume of different emotions swirling inside those irises before, but you could never put your finger on where you had seen them.

In fact, your fascination with his eyes wasn’t even on the top of the list when it came to your unusual relationship with Katuski Bakugou. You had met as children through your parents and had bared witness as he grew from a confident boy into a sometimes arrogant but determined man, ready to take on the world and bleed for it. To his brash and explosive nature, you were the quiet calm that washed over his bones, soothing his balms with just your presence. His quirk caused destruction if not used properly, and yours healed. You wouldn’t classify your relationship as friends when you were younger, it always seemed to run deeper.

You often knew what he was thinking before he even moved to do it. You knew his tendencies, his mannerisms, you knew him inside and out, and he knew all there was to know about you. Katsuki Bakugou knew what set you off, what made you tick. He knew you almost as well as you knew yourself. You were polar opposites in every sense of the word, yet somehow were constantly drawn to each other.

And as you grew, your relationship with him evolved as well.

Entering U.A. had been a turning point in both of your lives. He had been hailed as a hothead, arrogant, and you the protege of the famous recovery girl for your incredibly strong healing quirk. The two of you really couldn’t be more different.

However, you were still drawn to each other by a force that you couldn’t explain. Always conscious of the other person's whereabouts, of their thoughts and their feelings. You both were on a different wavelength than all the other students.

Often, the two of you were mistaken to be dating, and you never bothered to correct someone when they mentioned it because what you felt for Katsuki Bakugou, it was definitely love, but it was something else too.

Rolling over on your bed, you look up to the ceiling and rest your arms above your head. Another sleepless night, one of many recently, where you have been pulled from sleep by dreams so vivid they tugged at an empty space in your memory with such tenacity, you woke to a sob begging to leave your lips. You want to sleep, you need the rest, knowing that tomorrow you have a day of full training with Recovery Girl. But it just doesn’t come.

Giving up, you rise from your bed and walk towards your balcony, swiftly opening the door with a silent hiss. The full moon casts the world alight outside, and you sit onto the old chair you had forced your friends to help drag up here in your first year. With your blanket from your bed, you settle into the chair and let your eyes close as a gentle breeze washes over you. Maybe, just maybe out here, you can get some sleep.

A man's laugh echoes around you, so happy and full of life, you spin in your spot trying to find the source. But the noise teases you, becoming so loud it begins to make your ears ring. The noise pounding harshly against your eardrums, as if to engrain the sounds into your mind. Covering your ears with your hands, you fall to your knees, expecting a sharp pain from the fall, you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. The sound is gone, there’s nothing but a gentle breeze that brushes across your cheekbones. Opening your eyes, the bright light covering everything around you has faded until you’re standing in the middle of a field, a very old Japanese style house sits far in front of you, the lights on and laughter coming from inside it. Cautiously, you weave through the grains of wheat, following a tug in your chest and a voice in your head that says ‘Yes, go there, that is what you seek.’

When you get close enough to hear the quiet music, you pause in your steps, looking at the two faceless figures inside the house. They stand in the kitchen, one dancing around whilst the other just laughs. You don’t know who they are, but you’ve never seen two people so happy. Dancing and laughing whilst preparing food, it felt so dreamlike, yet something screamed at you that this was real.

Your warring thoughts quiet as something gently flutters in front of your eyes before landing on your nose. Turning your head to the sky, falling snow begins to cover the world in gentle flurries that make you immediately feel at peace. The clouds block out the moon and every bit of light, until the world is wrapped in darkness and all you can hear is the laughter from the people as you fall.

You open your eyes, your chest heaving as your brain becomes foggier than before. A sob is threatening to bubble from your lips, and you sit up from your position as if that will help. You rub at your chest as you bite back the cry from your lips. Your heart aches as if you’re mourning the dream, but you can’t make out why.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here dumbass.” Your eyes move from your feet to the vermillion red pair on the balcony next to yours, and you let out a shiver at his gaze.

“Well at least I got some sleep out here. I couldn't get any inside.”

“You weirdo.” he grumbles, but you know Katsuki is watching you carefully. “Are you having those dreams again?”

“Recovery girl thinks it may be a side effect of my quirk. That by healing people, when they are at their most vulnerable, I somehow gain access to a bit of their mind or soul, or something like that.” You explain what you had told him time and time again after you had let it slip that you were unable to sleep because of vivid dreams.

“That would explain how realistic the dreams are, but it still makes no sense.”

“What time is it?”

“Two thirty-three.” Katsuki answers and you let out a groan. You had only managed to sleep for an hour. Fantastic. For a moment you stand in silence on your balconies, just taking everything in and appreciating each other's presence.

“I’m going to say this just once, so listen close. Do you need help?” To anyone else, you suppose it would come across as Bakugou being rude, but as you look at him, and see the genuine concern buried deep in his eyes, you know his intentions are anything but malicious.

“Would you?”

“You don’t even need to fucking ask.” With effortless grace, Bakugou places his foot on the railing before clearing the gap between your two rooms, his feet quickly touching the floor of your own balcony. Without waiting or you Katsuki trudges inside, expecting you to follow, before climbing into your bed. You follow suit with no hesitation, cuddling up to the blonde’s side and resting your cheek to his chest, appreciating the way it rises and falls with every breath.

“Thank you Bakugou,”

“Just don’t fucking mention it.” He replies, closing his eyes and letting you sleep against him. Since you were children, you were constantly plagued with the inability to sleep. However, Bakugou seemed to be a remedy for that, where you would only nap when on playdates, and when you were old enough to approach the topic with him, he had taken it with no anger or annoyance. He truly was a different person with you. Everyone had noticed but never mentioned it with fear of facing his wrath. And you are glad because to try and explain the connection that the two of you seem to share, you simply can’t, and you don’t think you will ever be able to.

“We have a briefing tomorrow, apparently the rise in villain activity has the teachers freaking out. They’re bringing us to explain what's going on.”

“Do you think we will have to fight?” You manage to bring yourself to ask. Whether he notices the nervous tremor in your voice at the idea of your friends going into war or not, you aren’t completely sure, but Bakugou gently plays with a strand of your hair as he stares at the ceiling.

“Yeah, I do. Not that you’ll be the one beating up the bad guys.” He says, but he doesn’t deny the fact that you wouldn’t be on the front lines. Because if a war was to break out, you will be. With your healing quirk as strong as it is, you could be the turning point between winning and losing a fight.

“I hope that it's all not real.”

“A part of me hopes for that too.” Bakugou admits. He looks down at you and gently cups your cheek, knowing you are unable to hide the fear on your face, and even if you were able to, he would see it. He always does.

“I’m scared Katsuki.” There's a vulnerability in his eyes as he slowly tilts his head and places his lips to yours in a whisper of a kiss. Immediately shocks erupt across your skin making every single hair on your arms raise in alarm. You head dizzies and you gently grip his shirt to steady yourself to the moment. When he pulls back and you get another glimpse of those ruby eyes, shock rolls through you at the expression in them. There’s fear in his eyes, and you’ve never seen it before.

“Me too, but nothing is going to happen to either of us. I won’t fucking allow it.” He grumbles before rolling onto his side and bringing you closer. Somewhere along the way, the two of you fall asleep, and then rise again when the noise of people coming from the common room is too hard to ignore.

+ + + +

The mood was somber as everyone disbanded from the meeting room. Instinctively, you reach for the person beside you and grab their hand. Bakugou doesn’t question it as he threads his fingers through yours, and gives your hand a squeeze.

Tomorrow, they would organise a offensive strike against the currently known base of the League of Villains. The outcome was expected to fall into a full on war, which is why it was crucial to make the first move. You had felt the confidence radiating off the pro’s in the meeting, as if to hide their nerves from the students who will be taking part in the mission as well. The world would be different after tomorrow, and you weren’t completely sure if you were ready for that outcome.

Looking up, you see Katsuki watching Endeavour speak with Aizawa down the end of the hall, his careful gaze picking up every small movement and action. You must have watched him long enough for him to notice, and he turns his gaze to you.

“Why are you staring at me?” He growls at you, but there's no true bite. You don’t really have an answer for him, so instead you voice your unease.

“Everything is going to change tomorrow, isn’t it?” The words don’t make the pressure on your chest any easier to handle, if anything, they cause your thoughts to cloud as urgency fills your blood.

“Probably. We’re going to take out those fucking bastards and the world will be better for it. We’ll be fine angel face.” He says looking down at you before dragging you out of the building and back towards the dorms.

You hope Bakugou is right, but something inside you screams that nothing good will come from tomorrow. And even though you won’t be taking part in the combat, you will be there on the front lines supplying support and healing who you can.

One more time, you glance up at Bakugou and decide that you will do everything within your power to help make sure that everything goes right tomorrow.

+ + + +

You’re in hell.

Your bones groan under the pressure as you place your hands against the pro hero’s shoulder/ The wound instantly begins to close, and you ignore the emerging burning pain from your own shoulder as you use your quirk. You have trained to be able to withstand large amounts of pain, and your healing quirk was stronger then a lot of others, making you a saviour to the school and today.

“Y/n, we need your help over here!” You turn your head at Izuku’s voice and gasp as you see him carrying an unconscious Shouto over his shoulder. You get up from the now healed man and race to your friends. You notice what he’s cut up quite badly, but by simply placing your hand on him, you can see the broken ribs, one threatening to pierce his lung.

“Lay him down.” You say, stepping back. Once Midoriya places Shouto on the floor, you put your hands on his chest and begin to use your quirk, a faint light emitting from your hands as you do so. You take the time to look over Izuku for any injuries, but other than some cuts and bruises he seems to be okay.

It’s only when Shouto lets out a groan and opens his eyes that you let yourself breathe out a sigh of relief. Izuku watches you for a moment before speaking and basically reading your mind.

“We were taken by surprise from a stray group of villains. Kacchan and I managed to apprehend most of them, but one with a strength quirk basically threw Todoroki through a building, so we decided it was best to fall back for the moment.” He explained and Shouto suddenly let out a groan from between you, opening his eyes and you immediately let out a breath of relief. However it doesn’t last long as his hoarse voice breaks the peace.

“Where’s Bakugou?” He asks, and your heart drops through your chest. That's right, the three of them are supposed to be in a group. You look from Shouto’s worried gaze and back to Izuku who spins around the makeshift medical hospital. But you already know, he’s not here.

“He was right behind us, I swear-” You don’t even stop to think of what you're doing, your body just begins to move on your own. Ignoring the multiple protests, you sprint out of the building, mentally tugging on that connection deep inside your chest, until you can almost hear it.

This way. This way.

Hurry.

You have never questioned the feeling once in your life, and you don’t start now. Your legs scream from the overuse of your quirk as you run through rubble and across collapsed structures. But not once do you stop. You have to find him, and something tells you that you need to do it quickly. There's suddenly an explosion from what feels like right beside your head, that has you being thrown back multiple feet. You hit the ground hard and for a moment, the words spin. Your ears ring as you blink your eyes rapidly, trying to focus your balance again.

Get up. Get up. With shaking hands, you push yourself into a sitting position and try to stop the world from spinning. You try to stare at something to focus your gaze, but a flash of black and orange catches your eyes instead. Standing only a few yards away, is a very bloody Bakugou, with a snarling face and small explosions popping from his hands.

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see that his leg is very broken, and his hands… he’s overused his quirk so much he’s bleeding. There’s a rumble from beneath your feet, and you watch in horror as the building behind you both begins to crumble, and standing directly in its wake, unable to move, stands Bakugou.

Horror pulses through your veins at sight, and you are on your feet in seconds. One second, you’re running towards the blonde, and the next your feet aren’t even touching the ground and you’re moving faster than you ever thought possible as a dull pain explodes from between your shoulder blades. You reach Katsuki in seconds, grabbing him as you fly past where the building will fall, feeling the gust of air and dust as debris begins to hit the ground where he once stood. By the time you crash into the ground, you’re out of the destruction zone, but not yet out of danger.

Groaning at your aching body as you open your eyes again, you can’t see anything because of the dust whipping around through the air, and white feathers. You follow the trail of feathers until your senses acknowledge the weighty wings now emerging from either side of your spine. You have wings? Your thoughts are cut off as you finally see the person on the floor a few feet from you. “Bakugou?” You croak. You can barely walk, but you force your legs to move towards the lying figure. He groans at his name, but that groan quickly becomes a cough that splutters ruby droplets onto the grey floor next to him.

“Katsuki!” By the time you reach his side, you don’t know where to look first, or where to heal first. A large wound cover’s his abdomen and you know deep down, it's fatal. But you can stop it, you can save him.

“You’re not dying on me okay, Just- just keep looking at me okay?” Tears stream down your cheeks as you try not to sob. With a painful cry, he opens his eyes and you give him a soft smile as those red vermillion orbs you love so much meet your own.

“That’s it, just keep looking at me. It’s all going to be okay.”

Do not fail him. Not again.

Placing your hands against his wound, you feel his warm blood cover your fingers, but you push your quirk into your hands, diving deep into the pit of power inside your chest as fast as you can. Normally, quick healing can cause you to pass out, but you don’t care about repercussions as you look down at Bakugou. You know without a doubt that he is the love of your life, that the connection you have to him basically made it that way, but your heart did the rest. He’s the love of your life, and you won’t let him die. Not when you can do something to stop it.

Slowly, his wounds begin to stitch back together, and the bleeding begins to slow. With a painful growl, his red vermillion eyes look up at you, pure shock swirling inside them.

“Y/n?” The light slows from your hands and for a moment you’re blinded. “What did you do?” You feel nothing at first.

Then the pain hits you like a sledgehammer. You cough as you fall forwards, your body collapsing beneath your weight. A hand catches you as you fall, stopping your descent for a second. You are turned so you can see the sky, and a dirty, bruised and battered Bakugou kneels over you.

“Y/n!” He’s shouting at you, but you can barely move to reply. More blood leaves your mouth, the taste of copper being the only thing you can taste. You’re so weak. So weak. Bakugou holds onto you, frantically looking over you, as if trying to find a way to fix you. But he can’t. This is how it’s supposed to be, the voice inside your head says, and for some reason you feel content with the outcome. You may have sacrificed yourself, but to let Bakugou live. It was meant to be this way.

“You fucking idiot. You-you MORON! Take it back! Take it back!” He shouts at you, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you manage to croak out.

“Its not fucking okay! I’m not letting you die. I’m not letting you go,”

“Katsuki,” you look into his eyes, his hands shake as he takes you in. “This was how it was supposed to be.” You aren’t sure what compels you to say it, but it feels right. You know he has the same sense, because Bakugou vehemently shakes his head and snarls at you.

“Angel face, you’re not dying on me, you hear me?” He’s crying, gripping the front of your hero costume so tightly,

“I love you.” Your words break from pain, but also from sadness, fear. You are dying, and there is no way you would come out of this situation alive.

You are going to die.

“I will find you again, in the next life. I swear it.” You hiss out as the pain in your abdomen worsens. Without looking down you know that the wound that was once open on his stomach, now emerged on your own. It was the side effect of your quirk, healing others at the expense of your own pain.

“Please,” You’ve never heard him use the word, in all the years you have known him. And you can count on one hand how many times you have been a witness to his tears. But here he was, sat next to you, tears running marks through the dust on his cheeks, sobbing at you.

“Don’t leave me. I love you. I need you. Don’t go, not yet.”

“I love you Katsuki,” You smile as you close your eyes and feel yourself take your final breath. You feel the shortness of breath, the air pooling inside your lungs before it expels. And part of you wants time to stop, just so you can experience another second of life, another second to see Katsuki, another second to hear him say your name. But as you let out your final breath, you’re content, because this was how it was meant to be.

A gruttal noise ricochets around you, followed by a scream so loud and heartbroken your eyes snap open. Only you’re no longer in the crushing grip of the man you love. Somehow, you’re standing to the side, watching Katsuki clutch your lifeless body to his chest, screaming. Your eyes sting as you watch him break down. You’re sobbing as you see the moment that Izuku and Shouto arrive on the scene, followed by a variety of other heroes. You’re on the floor as you watch them try to take your body from Katsuki’s hands, but the man practically explodes when they try, so they leave you both there.

A figure appears behind you, how you know that, you’re not completely sure, but you know someone, or something is there. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask the air.

“No, you followed the path that was placed before you.” a voice that is everything and nothing all at once replies. It sounds as if its inside your head, but also everywhere around you. Turning around slowly, you find the source of the voice being a glowing silhouette of a figure.

“How did I know what to do? How did I manage to get to him intime?” How the fuck did I grow wings? You wanted to be mad, but everything around you held an air of serenity that you couldn’t physically make yourself become mad.

“You were one of my children once upon a time.” The voice says, and even though you can’t see their eyes, you can feel their gaze on the wings still behind your shoulder blades. “And you bartered for something that you had no right to claim. And now you must endure.”

“Endure what? What did I do to deserve this!” You hiss, looking at Katsuki, rocking you against him, his shouts still meeting your ears. “What did I do to make him have to live through that!” Your yell breaks from your chest broken and angry as you point to the scene in front of you. Turning around back to the figure you are prepared to release yourself upon it when suddenly it's right in front of you, golden liquid swirls in its eyes and you can’t look away.

“You have to see first.” Hands are placed either side of your face, and instantly grief so painful hits your chest, physically knocking you back and pulling a cry from your lips as your world goes black.

+ + + +

“Don’t you find this boring?” You ask, looking through the small portal to the world below you. The person next to you sighs, and you turn to them, almost taken back that they look like a male version of you. The same eyes and hair. He was your older brother, your brain fills in.

“Our job is an honour y/n,” he points out, his eyes narrowing on you slightly.

“I know that, I just wish we could do more you know.”

“When you get your client, you will.” He says smiling, gently patting your head as he stands up. “It should be any day now.” You stand up and smile at your brother.

“I will be the best guardian that ever lived!”

“I have no doubt about it cherub.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

So this is what the human world was like? You wonder as your wings fly you past a war torn town to where the tents stand high over the dirt. It smells like death. The small bond in your chest that binds you to your client pulls you down an alley between tents until you’re standing at the entrance of what you know is a makeshift hospital. With no hesitation you walk in, weaving through nurses and patients alike until you find the curtained off room you’re looking for. Inside there's a sharp yell and followed by a stream of words that make you blanch. Mother have mercy, he had the mouth of a sailor. Deciding to wait until the nurses left the room, you slinked inside and pulled the curtains closed behind you.

The man on the bed instinctively looked up and glared at you and for a second it rocked you. He could see you. Wait, of course he could, you were his guardian angel, he was the only human on the planet able to see you unless you willed it so.

“Who the fuck are you? And why are you in my fucking room?” For a second, you just stared at the man. With his ash blonde hair, he almost seemed as angelic as you, however those red vermillion eyes had your breath hesitating for disperse from your lungs for only but a moment. They were beautiful.

Realising he was still waiting for your response, you straightened your spine and walked to him, shoving your hand out towards him and let your wings spread out behind you.

“I’m Y/n, your new guardian angel.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“So you were sent home from the war?” You ask, sitting on the front porch of his old house, swinging your legs as you watched Katsuki work.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Katsuki turns to you and frowns at your question. He’d given up on trying to ignore you by this point, upon realising that you wouldn’t leave, so he would humour some of your curiosity. You had tried to breach the reason that you were called upon him in the first place, but he hadn’t yet told you, and as you looked blatantly at his glare, you knew today wasn’t going to be that day either. But it never hurt to try.

“I was discharged.” Was his familiar response, as he lifted the too over his head and brought it down onto the soil once again.

“Same thing. So you went from being a general in the army, to being working out here… On a farm.”

“It was my mentor's farm.” Katsuki barks at you, instantly on the defensie. His tone has you raising your hands in the air in peace.

“Hey, I’m not judging you. It’s literally part of my job not to.” You joke, hoping to earn a smile from the man, but all he does is turn away and keep working. You knew a little about why you were sent to be Katsuki’s guardian. He was a rare case, where he had already had a guardian angel, one that had requested a transfer. It kicked up such a fuss amongst the guardians that they assigned you, a newly fledged guardian to him, as if handing off a used toy. Sometimes, you would look at the blonde and think just why his previous guardian made such a decision. Sure he was brash and could be an asshole, but you didn’t have to be a guardian angel to see that he had a good heart. But what had he faced in that war? How had that changed him? What demons did he now carry? That was your job, to watch over him, and give him quality of life until his time was up. You weren’t supposed to completely interfere with him, but he looked so incredibly emotionless all the time, you had to do something.

Standing up from your spot on the porch, you hop down onto the grass and walk towards him. Grabbing the hessian sack containing the seeds by his feet, you look at Katsuki who is now watching you carefully.

“Well if i’m going to be eating your food, I may as well help right?” You say, smiling from ear to ear in encouragement. Please don’t lock me out, I want to help you. Please let me help you…

“Tch whatever, just don’t get in my way cherub.” He hadn’t meant the nickname to stick, but from that moment on it had. It was familiar to you, for its what your brother had called you, but when it came from Katsuki, it seemed to hit your heart differently somehow.

“I promise!”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“Were you always a cherub or did you have a life before or something?” You’re laying on the roof of the old house, looking up at the dark sky, stars flickering across it, familiar constelations glinting at you.

“I’m not sure.” You answer honestly, which has him turning to you.

“What? You don’t know?” He sounds so offended by your words, so you scramble for an explanation.

“Well, I have a brother. I know he’s my brother, but I don’t know who my parents are. I don’t know if I was always an angel, or if I was something more before…” Your voice trails off as you look at the sky. Was it possible that you could have been human before you were an angel. You were young compared to some other people of your kind, but you never counted birthdays, so you weren’t even sure how old you were. The idea of your existence suddenly seemed too daunting to fully contemplate, and your eyes sting. If you had been human… did that mean you had a family? A mother and a father? Maybe some siblings? Does that mean you had died… Tears leak out of the corner of your eyes and suddenly Katsuki sits up.

“Shit, are you crying?” His question has you rubbing the salt water from your cheeks and looking at your tear covered hands in awe. You had never cried before… so thats what it was like…

“I- fuck- I didn’t mean to make you cry y/n,” Katsuki is watching you carefully, with actual guilt on his face. The unfamiliar emotion shocks you still for a moment, before you smile softly at him.

“It’s fine, I just never really thought about it before I guess… you had never questioned your existence until this point. It was weird and overwhelming, to suddenly question something you had believed your whole life, something you knew to be true, but not quite having the whole truth. What was once something you had never paid mind to now felt like a cavernous hole in your chest that screamed to be filled with something.

“You were probably just as annoying as a human as you are now, so I wouldn’t get that excited.” A laugh drips from your mouth as you tilt your head back. Never before had you felt so many mixed emotions at once, sadness and happiness contradict each other inside your chest, and you couldn’t do anything but laugh, and offer the man next to you a tear covered smile.

“You’re probably right. Maybe I was a crap human.”

“I doubt it.” Your head snaps back to him in slight shock. Although Katsuki had been warming up to your presence, he was yet to be so open about it. “You must have done something right to become someone's guardian angel. So rest easy cherub, there's no way you could have done anything bad in your past life - if you had one.” Katsuki says, laying back down on the roof and averting his gaze back to the sky. You can’t help but watch him for just a moment more. Compared to when you two had first met, he seemed a lot more relaxed and at peace out here, in the middle of nowhere working a farm, then he had been elsewhere. It made you happy, and somewhere deep down, you knew you should have simply felt indifferent about it. But things were changing, you were changing, and you didn’t want to stop.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Katsuki had been out working when someone began pounding on the sliding doors. From your seat on the back porch, you placed down your book and stood up. Glancing out to the fields, you could see a silhouette in the distance and knew Katsuki would take to long to get back, and the person sounded like they needed help right now. You took a step towards the front door but paused when you realised what you were doing. You were seriously about to break one of the sacred laws without a second thought. For letting someone else that wasn’t your client was a taboo, one that people only crossed if absolutely necessary. You’d been warned against it multiple times, yet here you were about to break it with no hesitation.

What was wrong with you? When did you become so laid back that you forgot your own laws?

More pounding emits from the other side of the screen door, and you can vaguely see the shadow of the person. Your couldn’t help them. You weren’t here, you weren’t even real.

You. Were. Not. Human.

“Please, I need help! My daughter is incredibly ill and I don’t know what to do!” This time you don’t falter when you reach and yank open the sliding door. For a moment, the woman looks over you with glazed eyes, but it's quickly broken when the little girl in her arms lets out a whimper.

“Please, can you help her? I don’t know anything about medicine and the village doctor is a few hours away.” The woman begs with tears in her eyes. The concern in her eyes pulls at something inside you, and you quickly move to the side, ushering her into the house.

“Come this way, I’ll see what I can do for her.” You say, sliding closed the door behind her and leading her into the main lounge, an area big enough to lay her down comfortably.

“Thank you so much,” She sighs, placing her daughter down on the bedding on the floor you had pulled out earlier in the day.

“Don’t thank me yet.” You reply. “I don’t know much about medicine from around here, but all I can do is try.” Kneeling down next to the young girl, you close your eyes and let out a shaking breath. There’s a dark aura around her when you open your eyes again, bleeding from her chest, a sight you have come to recognise as death. The little girl was dying.

Briefly unsure as to what to do for her, you raise your hands over her and gently place your hands on her arm, letting out another shaky breath. You had only ever heard of it in rumours, and seen it briefly when your brother had healed a cut on your leg, but it was worth a try.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you pictured your essence bleeding into the little girl's arm, going into her bloodstream and pushing out the darkness that beckoned her. For a moment, there was nothing other than the gentle rustle of the trees against the old house. But then, a light began to emit from your hands that was so bright you could see it behind your closed eyelids.

And when you opened your eyes, you saw the golden light streaming from your hands into the little girl, who’s eyes finally began to flutter. By the time it dimmed to nothing, her eyes opened and a sob ripped out of her mother.

“Mother?” she whispered, her voice raspy with sleep. The mother lunged for her, pulling her into a chest with a relieved cry. Holding her tight to her chest, she looked over her daughters head to you and cried.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” You didn’t quite know how to respond, so you simply nodded at her, yourself struck with awe. It was only once you had stood up and moved to give them some space that you noticed Katsuki in the doorway, his brows furrowed and a look on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“How did you do that?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the mother and daughter on his floor. You let out an internal sigh at the fact he wasn’t mad that you had invited them into his house without his permission.

“I’m not sure to be honest.”

“That was incredible.” This time, you gape at him as he moves towards you and cups your cheeks. “That was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen.” Katsuki says honestly, and you forget how to breathe.

“Katsuki…” He ignores your words and looks at the mother on the floor with a fierce glare. You’re about to reprimand him when he folds his arms across his strong chest.

“If you ever speak to anyone about what happened here-”

“I won’t. I swear.” The mother said, smiling as she stood up. As she passed you she bowed deeply, still holding once again sleeping, but healthy, daughter in her hands. “I will not forget this miracle. Thank you so much for saving my daughter.” And then she’s gone. You stand still, stuck in place by her words. You’re relieved that you helped her, but you know part of you should be worried. You can’t seem to make yourself though, you’re elated, and want to jump around in joy. You had saved that little girl's life.

“You let her see you.” Katsuki says from behind you, and you turn to face him, but he's not looking at you. Standing on the porch, he’s looking back out at the fields and rubs his temples. Maybe he was mad.

“I wasn’t going to help, but when I heard her daughter was sick-”

“And what happens if she goes and tells everyone in the village that some random stranger healed her daughter… with some sort of magic? WHat do you think will happen then y/n?!” You were wrong, so wrong. Katsuki stands in front of you, absolutely livid, and for the first time since you've met him, you can’t read him.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think it through…” You conclude, embarrassed suddenly at your impulsive behaviour.

“What happens if they come here searching for you? They will try and burn you at the stake for being a witch y/n!” Katsuki yells, and you flinch.

“I’m sorry!” You shout back, letting your own frustration at his current attitude make itself known. “You’re right! I didn’t think. Instead, I heard that a little girl was sick, was dying, and I decided to help her. I’m sorry if that's too much for you, but that's not your decision to make Katsuki.”

“You’re damn right it is my decision! You’re my guardian angel, I cant fucking lose you.” Your breath catches at the slight tears building in the corner of his eyes as he points an accusing finger at you. “I can’t lose you y/n.” his anger suddenly drops until he stands there, arms limp by his sides, not daring to look at you. Hesitantly, you step towards him and gingerly reach out for one of his clenched fists. Your heart pounds inside your chest as you feel his warm hand in your own. You’d never really touched him before, not like this at least. Ahd as you drag his gaze to yours, you know that you’re breaking some major rules by doing what you’re about to do, but something also tells you that you had already broken the rule a long time ago.

“Katsuki,” He finally looks into your eyes, and you find yourself struggling to find the words you want to say, but luckily he complete’s your thoughts by pressing his lips to yours. Sparks shoot down your spine as he threads his free hand into your hair, and every single cell in your body feels as if it has been set alight. This was wrong, on so many levels, but how could this be wrong when being this close to him felt like the most right thing in the entire world?

You clutch his dirt covered shirt in one hand and gently push away from the kiss, resting your forehead on his chest.

“I can’t-” He grips your chin at your words and stares into your eyes. With so much conviction, Katsuki’s words thread into your heart, permanently scaring his name into your flesh.

“I love you cherub. I don’t care what power I have to destroy to keep you, but I will do it. I’d bring down heaven just for you.” It was as if you had been waiting your entire life to hear those words, from him.

“I am yours, Katsuki Bakugou. And you are mine.” You whisper up at him, delighting in how bright happiness shines in his irises.

“Always.”

“I love you, Katsuki.” And this time, you meet him halfway into the embrace, crushing your lips together, and letting him raise you in his arms, and carry you to his room.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You got four years together, full of happiness, half asleep smiles, starlight whispers and stolen kisses in the fields.

Then the soldiers came knocking.

You had hidden yourself without a second thought when there was a knock on the door of your house, and Katsuki had answered it with a calmness that left his body the second the door opened. The men practically shoved a piece of paper into your lovers hands and left, to leave you to deal with the consequences of their actions.

“Katsuki?” Your voice seemed to bring him out of the stupor he was in, and had him turning to you with furrowed eyebrows. He read the paper once, then twice, before crumbling it between his fingers and throwing it into the fire.

“What’s wrong?” but you knew. You knew they were taking him away again.

“I’m being reinstated.” Was all he said before walking through the house and straight out the back door.

“Katsuki!” You call out, quickly scrambling after him into the darkness. He stalks through the fields like a man on a mission, and you force your shorter legs to keep up with his pace.

“Katsuki! Everything will be alright-”

“Alright?” He barks, turning around on you with anger flashing through his eyes. “What about this is alright Y/n? They’re making me leave everything to fight in a pointless war, leave you behind. What about that is alright?” His voice threatens to break, and you take advantage of his moment of stillness to move closer to him.

“You’re right, nothing about this situation is alright. It’s a nightmare come to life, but its our reality.” You say, placing your hands on his cheek, causing Katsuki to close his eyes and lean into your touch. “I don’t want you to leave, but we both know…” Your voice breaks on the word, but you hold back the sob threatening to break free. “You have to go.” The tears building in your eyes break free and roll down your cheeks in a never ending wave, and no matter how many times Katsuki tries to rectify it by wiping them with his thumb, they don’t stop.

“I don’t want you to go. I want us to stay here. I want to live here forever.” The words force themselves from you as the realisation that he’s leaving finally sinks in. He was going off to war, and there was a chance he would never come back. He could die.

“I want to live here forever too.” He says, and you look up in slight shock. He was crying, and the only reason you could see the sight was due to the moonlight making them sparkle as they rolled down his cheeks. “I want to marry you, have children with you, fight with you, argue with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to love you here, forever. And when the day comes that we do pass on, I want to do that together too. But when I go, please do not follow me. Stay here, wait for me. Please.” You're sobbing by the time he’s finished, your heart breaks so fiercely that you fall to a heap on the floor, clutching each other so tightly as if it were the very last time.

Katsuki Bakugou was made for you, and you were made for him. And nothing was going to keep either of you apart.

The days moved quickly after that, each second spent in each other's presence, as if trying to engrave one another to your minds so you couldn’t go a second without thinking about each other. It would most definitely make parting harder, but you couldn’t care. After many arguments, you had eventually agreed to Katsuki’s request to not follow him to war, so instead you concocted a plan of your own. You would go back to headquarters, and you would ensure that you would never be parted from him again.

It was just a myth, or at least that's what you had once believed, but you now knew it was true. It had to be. Claiming your own soulmate was a big risk, and held a heavy price, but you knew you could do it. Because for Katsuki, for the life he mentioned for you both, for this life, you would do anything.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The moment you had arrived back in headquarters, you knew something was wrong. But for the first time since ever here, you didn’t care about your job. You didn’t care about the taboo’s, you didn’t care about being a great guardian angel, you just wanted to be great for Katsuki. And you were going to make it happen. But other people had plans that outweighed your own.

The moment you had stepped inside the library, your vision went hazy and your knees hit the floor, a dull pain throbbing inside your chest. What was going on. Your hazy vision finally focused again, and you found yourself standing in a room, surrounded by guardians residing on grandstands, and before you stood your brother and a silhouette of white light. But it was to your brother that you looked, and almost winced at the horror and disbelief in his eyes.

“What have you done y/n?” He asked, his voice breaking on the last word. He looked at you like you had stabbed him in the back, and in a way, you had. You had broken the laws of your people for a man, you had betrayed your family for a human. But it was worth it.

“Y/n, you have been accused of breaking the laws of guardianship with your client. How do you plead.” Said one of the three guardians on the stand behind your brother. You were on trial, you realised. One that you knew would end in your life either being taken, or being banished. You hoped for the latter, that you could deal with.

“Guilty. As are you.” Your words cause whispers to erupt within the crowd and you turn to the figure of light and glare.

“You say you create us in the image of yourself, to help humans, to guide them. But by doing so you have made us slaves to your course. We will never know true emotions, we will not experience life, we do not experience love.” Tears are streaming down your cheeks, but you don't care. Let them see the true span of emotions that they never get to experience. Let your words cut them deep.

“You plead guilty to the charges of breaking lawful conduct with your client Katsuki Bakugou. For this crime, you will be punished with eternal banishment-” Another guardian announces to the room.

“You can try to take from him, but you will not succeed.” Your yell silences the room, even the slightest whisper quiets at the sound. “My life is his, and his is mine. Until light fades and darkness dies, I will be his and he will be mine.” The words roll off your tongue as if they were made just for you, and for a second you see the silhouette of light flicker, before a sharp pain physically pushes you to the floor. You scream out as your chest burns, as if someone had fisted your heart and set it alight.

There is a moment that you truly believe the pain will kill you, that it will overcome your body and burn you to ash, but as quickly as it appears, the pain dissipates, leaving a thread behind, a thread that throbs harshly inside your chest. A thread that you knew if you followed, would tie you to the love of your life. Holy shit you did it.

“What have you done?!”

“She just bought herself a soulmate,” it's your brother's voice, but you can barely hear him over the sound of your blood pumping through your ears. You raise a hand to your chest as something pulls, feeling as if it tugged upon a rib, and then you're met with such grief it forces your hands to the floor. What was happening? There's a hand at your chin and you look up into the light silhouette and want to cry out at the projection it shows.

Bakugou lays on the ground, lifeless, covered in dirt. Blood gushes from under him and you let out a howl of a scream.

“You took something that was not for you,” was the last thing you heard before you collapsed onto the floor and everything went black.

Please not him, not Katsuki.

+ + + +

With a sharp breath, you open your eyes, and fall to the floor as tears stream down your cheeks. The past hits you over and over again, forcing sob after sob from your mouth, as you clutch the surface beneath your hands, trying to ground yourself, but to little effect.

By the time you have calmed somewhat, your body is completely numb, your brain a cloud of fog continuously rolling in and never dissipating.

“Was this the price for tying my life to his?” you ask, knowing that the silhouette of light stil resided in front of you, but you didn’t dare to look up at it.

“You cannot simply buy a soulmate, or tie your lifeline to his. You are immortal. Forever roaming, never planting your feet purely on the ground.” You clutch your chest, feeling the tether as if it were a string tugging on one of your ribs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… You turn around and look at the person, the man or woman you can’t tell, it's just a silhouette of blinding light, yet it doesn’t hurt the eyes.

“You mean to say…”

“Yes, you are immortal y/n. You will never die.” and then the being is gone, but his words never leave your mind.

Because it was right. You don’t die.

For years, you watch the world recover and move on, being unnoticed by all, forever to roam aimlessly as you witness everyone you love grow older.

It's a blessing and a curse, watching your friends all graduate, to grow into their full potential and become the heroes you always knew they would be. But what is hardest is watching Bakugou grow old.

You watch him become the number one hero, you watch him how he regresses and cuts people out of his life in his twenties, and are relieved when his friends help to pull him out of it. You are with him every day, hanging around his apartment, following him on missions, your wings allowing you to keep up with him as he moves quickly. It’s a blessing, even though he doesn’t know you’re there to witness every breakdown, every hardship, but also every success.

It's a blessing until one day, he meets a woman with a smile like sunshine that stops him in his tracks. You find yourself screaming into the silence, at nothing, trying to do anything to get him to notice you. To remember you. To not forget you, or the previous life that you two once shared.

But this was your punishment, you had bought yourself a human soulmate, one that couldn’t feel the bond as you did, and would most likely never know you existed.

You watch him date, you watch him have a child, but he never marries the sunshine woman. Instead, she passes away in a freak car accident when the child is barely a few months old. You feel the second she passes the moment it happens, and suddenly she’s in the apartment with you, watching Bakugou try to calm his daughter with no avail. With a sad smile, she turns to you and you’re so shocked you only gape at her. She’s the first person to see you in twenty years.

“He speaks of you all the time.” She says, looking back at her family once more. “I knew I would always be second in his heart to you, and I was okay with that. I am. He never got over you, and I don’t think he ever will. But he was right, you’re watching over him,” this time she turns her eyes back to you, and wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“Take care of them, please?” You only get the chance to nod before she's gone.

Time moves faster it seems towards the latter part of life. You get to watch Katsuki’s daughter grow, and watch him struggle to balance hero work with being an only parent. But your friends Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero step in to help out their little angel, as they call her. The name makes you want to cry every time.

You watch Katsuki Bakugou live his life to the fullest, you watch him be a phenomenal father, you watch him get injured, and beat villains. You watch him and your friends grow old without you, until you’ve said your final goodbyes to them all, until it's just Katsuki, surrounded by his loved ones on a hospital bed, grey haired and tanned skin wrinkles from his retirement days spent out in the sunshine. You see his final goodbyes, and you watch that black aura completely leave his body, and then for the first time, you visibly see that tether.

A string of golden light, the same shade as the one emitted from your hands a lifetime ago when healing a little girl. A bond that stretches across space and time, permanently tying you to the no young ash blonde standing in front of you. He looks the exact same as he did the day you lost him. Katsuki looks down at his hands before looking at you as the world around you begins to dull.

“Y/n?” You smile at him, letting tears roll down your cheeks as you run to him. “Y/n!” A cry leaves your mouth as you hear him say your name, it had been so long since you’d heard it.

You stop just before him, and hesitantly reach out. You hadn’t felt another touch in a lifetime, and to see him now, to have him here, it seemed too good to be true. However any doubt you carry isn’t held in Katuski, who quickly pulls you into him, a strangled noise coming from his mouth as he directs his lips to yours. You cry against him as you feel his warm touch beneath your fingers, and you know this is real. He’s here.

“Cherub,” he whispers into your hair, and you bury your face into his chest, gripping his back tightly enough to hurt, but he doesn’t say a word. Tilting your chin with a hand, you find yourself looking into the same red vermillion eyes that existed in another time, another dimension, a pair that loved you just as much as they did now.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t-- I couldn’t save you before.” Words bubble out of you before you can stop them. There are so many things you want to say, but not enough time. Because you know that this won’t last forever.

“Cherub, I’m glad you weren’t there. But you sacrificing yourself for me is another thing because I-” his voice breaks on the word. “I missed you so much Y/n, every fucking day. I wanted to die without you…”

“I made sure you wouldn’t,” your words make him rear back slightly and look down at you again. “I made a deal, that if you died I would die too, because that would mean I failed my job as your guardian. I made you my soulmate.”

“What was the price?”

“I don’t know.” You say in reply, but now, you think you have the vaguest idea. You bought yourself a soulmate, something that shouldn’t really exist, so now, you would have to wait until the universe decided you had paid enough time until you can reap what you took.

“How are you here? Did I…” Katsuki finally asks, looking around at the world still moving on without him, but his embrace doesn’t loosen around you for a moment. As if he too is too afraid to let you go.

“You’re ready to pass on,”

“What about you?” You blink at him and hold onto his biceps. “When I tied myself to you, it was something deeper than I expected, I bought myself a soul to match mine, and I have to pay the consequences from such actions.” an archway opens in front of you both catching your attention, and you shift your gaze from it to your soulmate. You place your hands on his cheeks bringing his scared eyes to yours once more.

“You won’t remember me in your next life,” Katsuki instantly utters a complaint but you shut him up with a hand. “I will be with you, always. I will protect you until my dying breath, and that's all I can do until I pay back for what I took.” Fresh tears well in his eyes as you both feel the pending goodbye begin to loom over you. Your time was coming to an end.

“How long?” He asks, pressing his forehead to yours and taking in everything about your face whilst he still can.

“I don’t know, but a few more lifetimes.”

“So I’m just meant to forget you?” He cries, his voice hoarse from crying, and clutches your cheeks tightly.

“I- I don’t want to. I love you, I never stopped.”

“I know you did, and not a second has gone by that I haven’t loved you with every fibre of my being. But please try and be happy, at least until I get there.” You say, giving him a final soft smile, but as much as you try to portray confidence, the tears of sadness flooding your face you know do the complete opposite. You’ve been so lonely without him, and now, you’re about to lose him all over again.

“How am I meant to be happy when you’re taking the source of my happiness with you?” He whispers brokenly, and your heart clenches painfully inside your chest.

“I will always come back to you Katsuki.” The light from the archway begins to glow brighter and brighter, becoming too bright to look at, so instead, you focus on your soulmate and kiss him one final time, putting everything you had into the embrace, and Katsuki returns it tenfold. When you finally pull from him once more, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his.

“I will find you again, nothing will keep me from you cherub.”

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou angst #guardian angel au #katsuki angst #bakugou angst #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader

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sonderthroughthestreets · 3 years

Note

122.

Hi!! Thank you to everyone to who sent me 122 @alwaysin-myhead @franboos (according to you 112 = 122 shshdjkjk ly) and anon!! 🥺💕

This one is kind of sad (yes I gave you all fluff it’s time for the sadness to hit skdjjd) but I promise it’s super soft 🥺🥺🥺 they love each other a lot!

122. “Just relax, I’ll wash your hair”

Dialogue Prompts!

Under the heavy covers of sorrow, chilled and frozen, Sander heard the voices muffle. They carried all the way up the stairs just outside his room and maybe it was easier if he pretended he couldn’t hear them, or if he just closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Maybe if he closed his eyes hard enough he could fall back asleep. But he heard them all the same.

“He’s been like this for a while now. More than normal. I’ve tried to help him get out, but the usual things haven’t worked,” he heard his mother say.

The voice that spoke next shook him to the core. The one that he loved so much.

“I see,” and Sander squeezed his eyes harder. He didn’t want him to see him like this. “Does he want company right now, though?”

Sander dug his face into the pillow. Any day, any other day, he’d be overcome with such bridled joy to see the face he’d memorized like the back of his hand, drew a million times and etched it into the paper, but today, today he couldn’t handle it. Didn’t have the energy.

“Probably not, but I’m pretty sure you’re the only one he can stand right now,” his mother told him.

“I don’t know, I texted him and left him a voice message, and he hasn’t checked either. Which is understandable, but...”

Sander felt like folding into himself now. He wanted to fold and fold like an origami paper, infinitely fold until he disappeared, until he just ceased to exist. It was a horrible thought that crossed his mind, but he wished he didn’t live in this world where he knew his mother and his father, his friends or classmates, where he didn’t know...

If he could take back all the moments with all the people in his life, the good and the bad, he wouldn’t feel like they were too much and he wouldn’t have to deal with it all. Because right now, it was all far too much to deal with. He was tired. Extremely tired. He just wanted to fold and lose himself in unconsciousness.

“You can always try, Robbe. He loves you so much,” his mother’s voice still came through the crack underneath his door.

Then, he heard a muffled breath as footsteps lightly treaded away and the knob creaked as it turned and the door slowly, finally, opened.

He felt him sit on the edge of the bed and the silence was strangely comforting to him. He could maybe go back to sleep like this. He could just drift into his unconsciousness and stay there for days, maybe forever. He could-

“Sander,” he heard him. “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t mean for this question to irritate him, he really didn’t. But it annoyed him because he could see just exactly how he was feeling. And if he had enough energy he’d tell him. He’d tell him he was tired and that he felt heavy. That his limbs felt a heaviness and his brain felt a fuzziness and all he wanted was to just lay there and not do anything.

“I mean that’s a stupid question,” he heard him laugh bitterly and nervously. “But I had to start with something.”

He felt him shift even closer to him and Sander all of a sudden felt very insecure. Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d been in bed for about a month now and all he’d done is sleep and sleep and barely keep his eyes open as his mother fed him soup and bread, crumbs and stains littered across his bedsheets. He hadn’t gotten out for a shower or to change his clothes, either. He’d sweat through the night under the covers, from nightmares or dreams he couldn’t really remember, the residual body odour lingering in the air. He could smell it himself as he lay there for days. But he couldn’t have been bothered to move or do anything about it. He stayed still as he felt the weight of his hand on his shoulder.

“I love you. And I’m gonna love you whether you’re the wonderful, bright and fun, lighthearted and funny Sander I know or you’re the Sander that can’t get out of bed and needs time to let all this pass.”

Sander wasn’t questioning his love until now. Because all of a sudden it felt like he was being dramatic and maybe this was nothing and he was just tired and lazy and he didn’t deserve someone loving him when he’s like this. Maybe he didn’t deserve anything at all.

“That was my voice message by the way. I was just telling you that I loved you. And that we said we’d take this minute by minute and that hasn’t changed.”

Sander listened to him breathe for a few moments. Waited for him to leave him in solitude. But when he felt the weight on the bed lighten, the warmth of his hand gone, he wanted to call out for him, scream his name pained and broken, ‘don’t leave’. His mouth felt heavy too, his tongue stuck on his palate, his jaw unwilling to move. But he mustered up all the energy he could to speak his name, his voice raspy and deep and cracked from being unused.

“Robbe,” he said.

“I’m here,” he replied. “I’m not going anywhere, just closing the door,” he clarified as he quietly shut it. Then, he came to sit next to him again. “What do you want to do this minute?”

He wanted...

He just wanted Robbe.

And Robbe seemed to sense that.

And so it went like that, them going minute my minute.

In this minute, Sander would try to keep his eyes open. He saw Robbe dressed in his dark sweatshirt and jeans.

In this minute, Sander would try to sit up.

In this minute, Sander would try to turn and let his feet touch the cool ground, soothing him almost like a balm. Sometimes it takes him more than a minute.

“I could get some fresh clothes for you,” Robbe said. “You can just change into them if you don’t wanna take a shower.”

Sander slowly nodded, the knot in his throat hard to swallow. Even harder when he knew Robbe was looking at him with warm, patient eyes. He felt him take his hand and kiss it before getting up to open his closet and fish out a grey t-shirt and new sweatpants. Sander gripped the edge of the bed, looking to the side with his jaw clenching.

He couldn’t believe Robbe was the only person that could get him out of this. That he had to come over here and get him out of this. To think that he was forced to come and be some sort of caretaker when his own mother couldn’t even get him out of bed.

But when Robbe had come over with the clothes and his fingers gripped the hem of his shirt taking it off, he felt his limbs give in to it all. He collapsed under his comforting touch, the intimate way he removed his shirt, looping his arm out through one armhole and then the other. Sander weakly took hold of Robbe’s wrist when he went to grab the clean shirt.

“Think I want that shower,” he mumbled.

Robbe nodded, leaving the fabric.

“Do you think a bath would be better?”

“Maybe,” Sander shrugged.

So, he trudged over to the bathroom while Robbe searched for a towel and carried over his clothes for him. Sander let the water run and leaned against the counter, listening to Robbe walking around outside in his room. He wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly but his mind almost felt too numb to pay attention.

Once he was in the water, he still felt a sense of emptiness, like he still couldn’t feel the warmth of it. Not without Robbe. So, he called for him. And Robbe quickly came in, surveying the sight in front of him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sander said softly. “Just...stay with me for a bit.”

So, he did.

Sander let his fingers trail the water, slowly moving his index finger to and fro. Then he sighed a heavy sigh, pulling his legs up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. The silence was both reassuring and upsetting. Because Sander didn’t have the energy to really talk but he didn’t want it to be like this.

“Talk to me, Robin,” he whispered.

Robbe just crossed his arms as he leaned on the counter now, letting out a chuckling breath.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m not as good as you with talking.”

But he’d left his post at the counter and made his way over to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He ran his fingers through his wet and matted hair, bleached ends but dark roots diverging out.

“Just relax,” Robbe whispered, his voice a caress. “I’ll wash your hair.”

And Sander let him. Let him get the shampoo bottle, the fruity scent tingling his nose, albeit a little harshly, and let him lather up his hair. Robbe was careful not to get the suds in his ear, but gravity wasn’t particularly interested in letting all the soap stay out. So, he took a bit of water and gently cleansed Sander’s ear. Then he grabbed the shower-head and let the water softly trickle onto his head, washing all the shampoo off.

Sander had never felt such relaxation, his soul feeling a satisfying solace as Robbe’s fingernails scraped his scalp. He was so concentrated in the task at hand, careful and attentive. It made Sander’s heart want to burst, his eyes on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible.

“For what?”

“For the fact that you have to come here and take care of me. For me just shutting myself away from everyone, including you. For me bothering you.”

Robbe looked at him like there were many things wrong with those sentences, his eyes glistening in the hazy natural light coming from the window. It tinted the whole bathroom blue, fitting for how Sander felt.

“I don’t have to do anything, Sander,” Robbe said, his voice echoing through the walls. He brushed his wetted hair from his eyes, the water dripping and sliding down his nose and his parted lips. “I’m here because I want to be. And because I love you,” his hand traced his cheeks, thumb brushing over the bone. Sander instantly leaned into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispered back. “So, much,” his voice trembled.

Robbe gained closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, to which Sander deepened breathing him in. Their lips let loose as their foreheads touched, eyes closed.

Sander was starting to feel something like himself again. He wasn’t all the way, but he was getting there, some semblance of rejuvenation. He was grateful to have Robbe help him and to take this minute by minute like he’d said, patient and non-judgmental.

But most of all he was grateful that he was here. Just like he said. That in this universe...

He was staying with him.

#snapspotter #brenna tag💓#I’m sorry sksjjdjd #but i just wanted to write something other than fluff for a bit bc I feel like I suck at fluff lol #hope you guys like it!!#dialogue prompts #Fran🤠#cíara💫

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 3 years

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TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 2: The Confession (Chapter 1 here)

Ichabod couldn't move, couldn't take his eyes off of the mirage before him, could barely breathe. How could she be standing here, days after she'd disintegrated into that confounded box that'd then combusted into nothing, looking none the worse for wear? Looking as gorgeous as the day he'd met her. Looking as real as the heartache clawing at his insides felt.

It had to be some monster's trick, a devil's devious ploy to destroy him. He raised his arm, his forefinger pointing to the sky. "Who are you?" he managed to demand harshly, though he felt none of the power the words conveyed. The creases of her smile deepened, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling at his confusion indulgently. "Crane." He longed to close his eyes and revel in her presence, let her voice wash over him and sluice the grief away, soothe the hurt in his heart like a healing balm. She hadn't answered his question, instead speaking his name as a statement, and he nearly gave in to his desire to accept this fake as the genuine article. He opened his mouth to speak, but she began before he could formulate any words. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions....and I'll do my best to answer them. I can't imagine what the past few days have been like for you," she lamented, her voice and expression dripping with sympathy. "And before you ask, it's really me." He squinted his eyes at her, doubtful and hesitant and simultaneously so damn afraid and desperate to believe her. "Prove it," he challenged. One side of her mouth quirked up as if she expected nothing less from him, and she held her fist out towards him. He eyed her hand skeptically, unable to reach out and touch her, even with a simple fist bump, until he knew for sure it was her. She waited a handful of seconds, but when he didn't reciprocate, she slowly dropped her hand. "I know this can't be easy. I know it doesn't make sense, not yet. I can't quite believe it myself. But it's me," she entreated him to believe her. "Prove it," he repeated, more heatedly this time. She thought for a moment, the intense look on her face willing him to trust her. "We were in Pandora’s lair, and the last thing I said to you was to never give up. The last thing I heard from you was...you calling my name." He nodded, the moment indelibly imprinted in his memory, a cursed experience his eidetic mind had relived a thousand times already in the past few days. "Before that, we sailed to the entrance to the catacombs. Found Betsy Ross in the hidden chamber inside the temple just before the essence of Pandora's box wrapped its ugly black tentacles around me. You carried me out, had..." she paused momentarily before continuing, "words with Betsy, and then she left. We followed not long after." The more she spoke the harder his heart beat against his ribs, the more heat flooded his body, returning warmth to him and the empty house he'd inhabited for over three days. "Abbie...?" he dared to believe. She smiled fully at him, and his heart broke itself back into place. "Oh, Abbie," he breathed in a broken whisper of relief, and she easily launched herself towards him as he moved to embrace her.

They covered the several feet between them in a single heartbeat, and he snaked his arms around her, holding her fast, his knees nearly giving out at the feel of her alive, warm, breathing, the smell of her fragrant and clean, her arms cinched around him, a welcoming comfort he'd expected never to experience again. "Abbie," he murmured again, nearly gasping out her name on a heaving cry, his eyes dropping closed. He knew it bordered on inappropriate to hold her so long, but he couldn't make himself let go for fear she'd fade away before his eyes again. He cupped her head, holding her against him, though by how tightly she held him she had no intention of letting him go either. He breathed her in, grateful for and reveling in every movement she made, inhaling, exhaling, her body pressed against him, her presence more powerful than any drug. Reining his emotions in, he slowly released her from his embrace, gripping her shoulders and peering at her like a vision from heaven. She still smiled gently at him, not overwhelmed or fearful of his desperation in the slightest. "Abbie, how...? It's been three and a half days. How are you here?" he marveled. "Miss Jenny and I searched for a way... Miss Jenny," he interrupted himself. "We must tell her! She needs to know." He patted his pockets searching for his phone but stopped when she pointed to it lying on the coffee table. He grabbed it up and scrolled through his recent calls. "Don't tell her over the phone; it’d be too cruel. Please, just ask her to come here. I want to tell her, show her in person." He nodded, sure Miss Jenny would think him drunk again anyhow if he told her Abbie had walked through the door and hugged him. He clicked on her name and stared at Abbie as the phone rang, unable to let her out of his sight for even a moment. Voicemail picked up after a handful of rings. "Miss Jenny, it's me, Ichabod. Please come by the house as soon as you're available. There's... something we must discuss. It's of the utmost importance, and I beg of you not to delay. I eagerly await your visit. Respectfully, Ichabod Crane." Abbie nearly smirked at him, and he wanted to query her about it, but he refrained, needing so much more than her wit and banter about his entirely too prim and proper voicemails. Without thinking, he sank to his seat, still staring at her in awe. "How is this possible?" "I don't exactly know," she admitted, moving the box of tissues from the couch to the coffee table, dropping to the cushion and angling towards him. "I emerged from the lake, much like I did—like we did—when we returned from the Catacombs. It's just down the way from the river cave where you were buried. All I can figure is that that body of water or that acreage of land is somehow linked to...whatever realms exist beyond." His brow furrowed in consternation, and she continued. "Anyway, I came out of the water a bit ago, without memory of where I've been or what happened after I felt myself slipping into the box. But I had this..." She fluttered her hand in a circle, trying to find the right word. "...this knowledge, like it'd been downloaded into my brain." "What knowledge?" he questioned warily. "You said it's been three and a half days?" He nodded, wondering what this count of 84 hours and—he looked at the clock—34 minutes had anything to do with anything other than being the exact count, nearly down to the minute, of how long he'd suffered in anguish without her. Her smile surprised him, and he waited, quite impatiently, for the punch line. "We've called ourselves Witnesses. Others, our enemies, have called us Witnesses. But we've never paid attention to the passage from Revelation that speaks of us. I woke up with this knowledge, this…unmarred understanding of our role, our destiny. And not even Pandora, her box, the Hidden One, or death can thwart that. As eternal souls, we’ve been given power against the antagonistic forces of evil. And this job of making things right, of justification, is never brought about by a single witness. There's always got to be two.”

He stared intently at her, in awe of both her and the information she relayed. Indeed, they’d never read much from the Scriptures about their role, instead merely settled in to their roles as warriors. This knowledge she now had seemed to grant her a lighter countenance, a more secure understanding of their place in this world. And it’d brought her back to him. He waited for her to continue. "See, Revelation chapter 11 describes the death of the two witnesses only after the testimony—our role to fight against evil—is done. We're only to die at the end of all trials, after all of the tribulation. And we're only to die together." "But you did die...didn't you?" "I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, visibly confounded. “All I know is Pandora, while she may have held more power than anyone we'd ever faced before, is no match for the biblical prophecy. You said it yourself once: the Bible foretells two witnesses. You and I must remain together if there is any hope of victory." He hung on to every word, trying to comprehend all she detailed, not to mention her presence here once again. "You’re saying...we're invincible?" "No, not as I understand it. We've been endowed with... fortitude and strength to fight these battles, the demons, the witches, the monsters, the ungodly. We can still die. And will. But not until our appointed time, and no one other than big-G God determines that. And even then, it's only for three and a half days." "Three and a half days," he muttered, the wheels in his brain trying to keep up with her revelation of their part in the cosmic war they fought. 84 hours. All this time he'd been calculating not how long she'd been gone but how long before she'd return. The notion filled him with a heavy dose of incredulity, and not a little fear.

Something tickled his brain, a conversation from long ago, and his fingers twitched as his tired mind drew up the memory. “Not long after we met, you told me about your encounter in the woods. You said you’d been missing for four days.”

“Four days,” she repeated quietly as her eyes went wide. “Closer to three and a half, if we’re being specific.”

“And Miss Jenny was spared too. Perhaps because of her relation to you. Or her proximity at the time.”

Eyebrows raised with uncertainty, Abbie nodded.

“You’re right,” he claimed in surprise. “Moloch couldn’t defeat you then, and Pandora and her hellish box couldn’t conquer you now. Three and a half days, and you’re revived.”

“Just as the prophecy says: we’re given power, able to overcome our enemies. And at the end…‘But after three and a half days a breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet,' Revelation 11:11," she quoted. "That's why you're here," he marveled. "The prophecy isn't complete, and He...He sent you back." She nodded resolutely. "We still have work to do." He couldn't respond, trying to take in all that she'd relayed, the weight of their destiny, the fact that she sat before him in perfect form, speaking to him of their future after he'd mourned the unspeakable loss of her for over three days. His heart's undulation from sorrow and despair to relief, wonder, awe, and astonishment left him reeling and emotionally spent, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught. "Crane?" The concern in her voice made his heart ache anew, and her hands settled on him like cool silk, one gripping his arm, the other clasping his fist.

God's wounds, how he'd missed her! Missed her quirks and foibles, her goodness and passion, her fierce spirit, persistence, and kindness. Her contagious laugh and beautiful smile, expressive brown eyes and teasing nature, the way she explained things when he felt confused and teased him when he became too academic. How she cared about people, held herself to the highest degree of integrity, defended him against any naysayers, made him feel valued in this time he was only beginning to truly settle in to. He missed hearing her putter around the house after he'd gone to bed, playing chess with her, discussing and solving cases with her, listening to her sharp mind delve into fine details, her surprises of confections or ethnic foods he'd never had the joy of experiencing before. Missed seeing her first thing in the mornings, bleary-eyed and coffee-deficient, bedhead hair wild and sexy, so excruciatingly adorable sometimes she stole the breath right out of his lungs. Missed the sound of her voice, her big brown-eyed stare, her petite frame next to him, how she'd always protected his back. Missed her flirtations and irritabilities, her soft touches and fierce hugs. Missed every single detail about her, flaws, favors, and features all. "Crane..." "Yes, I...I merely need a moment," he nearly begged. She started to pull her hands away, but he grasped them, gently but firmly. "Please," he murmured so softly he barely heard his own voice. "Don't go." She squeezed his hand in response, trying to comfort him, and the silence of the room filled with the knowledge of her presence. "I'm sorry. Crane, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice full of sympathy. "You shouldn't be. You quite literally saved the world, Lieutenant." She turned her hands over in his until their palms met, and she clasped at him. "I mean... I'm sorry for the loss that you and Jenny have endured the last few days. Losing Joe and then...."

"And then you," he finished for her when she'd gone silent. "It must feel like whiplash, having me here." She almost sounded regretful, though he knew she merely sympathized with their suffering. He stared at her intensely. "Yes," he admitted honestly. "But I wouldn't trade you for a hundred battalions of soldiers to fight this war with me." A shy, appreciative smile eased over her face, and she looked down at their joined hands. His eyes followed, and he stared at the ying and yang of them, her hands so small and dark in contrast to his large, pale ones. Complete opposites in nearly every way, and perfectly complimentary because of it. The memories of all the things he'd wanted to say floated through his mind, the reasons he'd spent days mentally flagellating himself, how he thought he'd never have the chance to make up for all the times he'd swallowed down his affection for her, of the words of all those who'd seen that he loved her before he'd faced the realization, and too late it'd seemed.

Master Corbin knowingly prompting him to ‘talk to her.’ Miss Corinth blatantly denying his words. “I think you are ready for someone. I just don’t think it’s me.”

Master Mills’ words upon their first meeting. “Take good care of my daughter.” Betsy had spent less than an hour in their presence. "Only one truth matters: your heart belongs to Abigail Mills," she’d declared. “You love her, don’t you?” Pandora had stated. “She is your hope, your everything. I took her from you.” His mind flashed in picture-perfect fashion to his desperation for her, his need to rescue her from Purgatory and the utter desolation he'd felt at having left her there; the absolute despair that'd come over him when she'd become lost in the Catacombs, the numbness he'd forced upon himself to secret his emotions away in order to focus on finding her. The way he'd fluttered around her when she'd returned, ensuring she ate, making her laugh, keeping her company, wooing her with full candlelit dinners and rousing late-night games of chess. He had so much to make up for—he’d caused her such pain over the years when he'd only ever wanted her safe and cared for. He needed to tell her—now—what she'd come to mean to him. He watched his thumbs rub over her soft skin, the feel of her warm hands pouring liquid heat back into his frozen veins. "Having you back, I cannot begin to express my elation." He lifted his eyes to hers. "But I shall try." She lifted her eyebrows in innocent wonder. "Abbie, when I awoke in that cave four years nigh, I never could have comprehended this world and what my life would become. I felt lost. Defeated, and alone. And then you walked into the room. Despite our initial and mutual misgivings regarding one another, your compassion and integrity drove you. Your tenacity for the truth and your strength of character made me believe I could trust you. And I've never stopped. I know I've done things that've hurt you, things I regret and I'd go back to erase if I held that power. Please," he asked sincerely when she started shaking her head against his words. "Please, hear me out.” She nodded once, and he took a fortifying breath before continuing.

“So much of our time together has been me chasing an old life, one that’d become lost to me before I ever even crawled out of the ground. I tried to cleave to it…” He balled his hand tightly into a fist. “And the harder I held on, the further it slipped away from me.” He slowly opened his fist. “And through it all, there you were. You helped keep me grounded as everything I’d ever known and relied upon disintegrated. You spent more time trying to fix…the Crane family problems than you did grieving all you’d lost because I appeared in your life. And never did you complain. You’ve been the epitome of kindness, patience, virtue, and strength. And it’s more than I deserve.”

He threw a finger up in the air to halt her protests. “I’ve made some grave mistakes, the greatest of these being... You’ll have to forgive me. In my day we weren’t quite so free with our sentiments. We were more…”

“Puritan?” she offered.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Indeed. Though I am striving to become a 21st century gentleman.” His expression turned serious again. “I’ve missed you gravely these past few days, Abbie. You’ve come to mean so much to me over the years, and when I thought you were gone before I ever took the chance to tell you how much I care, I…”

His trailed off, staring into her wide, trusting eyes. His heart beat wildly at this step he was about to take. He swallowed hard and plunged forward, her expectant look filling him with hope.

“You have been the greatest surprise and the most valuable treasure of my life. I love you, Abbie. I have for longer than what’s appropriate and more and more so every day. And I regretted it profoundly when I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you so. I love you. And there’s nothing in this world I desire less than to be without you. I want you with me always. That is...if you..." His words faded away, uncertainty replacing his resolve. She could reject him—dear God, he hoped not, but she could—and still he wouldn't regret letting her know she was loved. Not after the abject self-loathing of the past few days. In one smooth move, she tucked her legs beneath her, kneeling next to him on the couch, sitting back on her haunches. She reached for him then, one hand lacing through his hair and resting at his neck, the fingertips of the other settling against his scruffy jaw. She gazed at him from eye-level, tears flooding her eyes but not falling. He didn't know what they meant, but she'd moved so close, invaded his space in a way she'd never dared to before. He could only peer at her helplessly, not comprehending how he'd arrived at this moment after losing her. How her warm hands could be touching him, her ears hearing the words he thought he'd choke on for the rest of his lonely life, her eyes staring into his soul like the sun blazing onto the frozen tundra. She mesmerized him, his mind simultaneously reeling from and numbed by her presence. The trauma of the past few days and lack of sleep had him spent; he had nothing left to give at this moment and everything to lose. "Ichabod." She breathed his name, and his heart clenched in his chest, recalling the only other time she'd done so. Then, too, she'd left him speechless, though he should've spoken up; he couldn't now even if he wanted to. Her knees pressed against his thigh, and he felt the soft puffs of her exhales ghosting over his skin. Her fingers absently teased along his neck, and he felt tingles race down his body. It'd been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately, caused such sensations to course through him, and he stayed frozen in place, nearly overcome by sensory overload. He watched her, helpless, wondering what came next. Her eyes, filled with desire, flicked between his gaze and his mouth as she inched towards him. Strewth, he must be dreaming! Passed out on the couch after drinking heavily to try to numb the pain and grief. Hell of a job he'd done too, to conjure such a perfectly sensual fantasy. He let her close the distance between them, unable to think straight, unable to move, but prepared for the feel of her lips, the taste of her kiss, the heat from her flowing into his frozen limbs. Her expression, so soft and vulnerable, made his heart ache fiercely, the cavern inside his chest closing with each inch she moved closer. All he could do was watch her. Time had slowed, frozen just like he had, as if the heavens had pressed a pause button, and his blood pounded loudly in his ears. Then, without warning, it seemed to scramble forward, and he watched as her eyes dropped close. His did the same as her lips pressed against his. He was not prepared. Whether the torrential cocktail of the past days' emotions or the reality that his fantasy had come true deserved blame, he couldn't say, but he sat completely at her mercy. She moved slow, patiently, her kiss soft, tantalizing, hot, and he moaned out a soft breath in disbelief and wonder. She started to ease away from him, but he chased her lips, not ready to wake from this searing dream, and she easily fell into him, her arms looping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. He came alive then, blossoming under the scorch of her ministrations, and he turned towards her, one hand cupping her head gently, the other roaming her back, pulling her more urgently against him. "Abbie," he murmured heatedly against her lips, but she silenced him easily, her tongue teasing his, her mouth drawing another moan from him, even as she matched it with her own. She moved to straddle him, and he helped her, his hands steadying her hips as she slid one leg over his lap. His large hands nearly spanned her small waist, and he moved them over her petite frame, from her lower back to the curve of her...buns (that word didn't seem so offensive at the moment), up the line of her spine to her shoulders, then down again to her hips and up her sides until he felt her rib cage beneath his hands, his thumbs just below her breasts. He wanted so much more, but even as she allowed—encouraged—his handsy exploration of her and continued doing marvelous things with her mouth and tongue, his mind screamed at him to cease, the impropriety of their situation a haunting specter he couldn't shake. Before he could muster up the willpower to pause their fervor, his phone both vibrated and rang, and he reluctantly, regretfully eased away from her. He touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, self-conscious about his shortness of breath—though he immediately noted that Abbie suffered from the same affliction. His phone continued warbling loudly and sputtering across the coffee table, infernal thing it was, fraying his sensitive nerves. Clearing her throat, Abbie slid off of his lap and grabbed for the phone. He watched her, cheeks tinged pink, lips rosy from his kisses, contented look on her face, and wanted to pull her right back to the place she'd vacated. Instead, she glanced at the phone, then held it out to him. "It's Jenny," she intoned softly. He nodded, still not entirely convinced he wasn't dreaming, drunk or not, and took the phone from her. He swallowed hard before answering with a meek hello. "Crane, are you alright? I got your message." He peered at the petite woman in front of him, overwhelmed and grateful, exhausted and thrilled beyond reason she hadn't disappeared like a desert mirage, and wanted to weep at the realization that she was real. She stared back at him as if he'd hung the moon, eyes dilated, corners of her mouth upturned in a perpetually pleased smirk. His heart nearly gave out knowing he was the cause of such a wondrous look. "I am...alive." Miss Jenny wouldn't understand his dual meaning. Yes, his heart still beat, but more than that his body zinged with fervor, full of passion and longing, his lips hot from Abbie's kiss, his mind reeling with all the possibilities that lay before them. "Stay that way. Be there in five." And she hung up. Ichabod cupped the phone in both hands, drumming his fingertips on its back, trying to think of something to say, something to do that wouldn't find them back in a compromising position, especially with Miss Jenny on her way. He began twirling the phone in the palm of one hand, the fingertips of the other tapping out a beat against his knee. "Would you like to sit back down?" Abbie's eyebrows shot up, an amused smirk on her face, and he realized the unintended innuendo in his words. "Oh no, not... Of course, I didn't mean to imply... I meant..." His hand fluttered in a circle in the air, his tongue tripping over his words. God's wounds, he felt depleted. He needed sleep. But not just sleep. Rest. Still, he couldn't help thinking if he fell asleep he'd wake up to find this was an exquisite dream he'd never get back.

Focus, you imbecile. "I just thought you might want to sit a spell," he managed to explain, his hand indicating the other end of the couch, the large comfy chair. "Miss Jenny will be here soon and..." And he didn't know what. He could barely keep his thoughts in order after the past 20 minutes, let alone the past three and a half days. The look on Abbie's face turned to concern. "Jenny's not going to take this well," she surmised, beginning to pace. “Not at first.” He'd laid his heart out, spilled the words he'd thought would plague him to eternity, played all of his cards. And while she'd seared him with her passion, she was already moving on, unaffected. His heart sank, broken all over again for different reasons. What came next for them? For him? How could she feel so indifferent after branding his lips with hers? "We don't have nearly enough time for me to say all the things I want to say to you before she arrives."

He hadn't realized until this how many ways a heart could be devastated. Hearing her now... Wait, had she just...? He watched her pace in frustration for a moment, her words sinking in to his daft, sleep-deprived brain. His heart, lying in the pit of his stomach, fluttered to life, making him queasy and anxious to hear what came next.

"Abbie...?"

She stopped moving and faced him, the coffee table standing between them. Her hair, full around her face, sat perfectly, her wondrously pouty and kissable lips called to him, her eyes filled with compassion and—dare he think it?—love. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

"There's so much more I want to tell you, so many things we have to talk about." Her eyes pleaded with him. "This isn't over, Crane. Promise me this isn't over."

The desperation in her tone simultaneously ignited concern and anticipation. "It's not over, Lieutenant. It's only just beginning," he promised fervently, resolutely.

She opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by an urgent knock at the door.

Jenny had arrived.

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