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thelightningthatjumpsbetween · 1 year

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Chapter Eight

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Despite the blond’s comment-or rather, because of it-Karl watched him from the cab of the machine, an unreadable look as he stared after Winters. In truth the engineer was proud of the blond. Ethan was stubborn to the point of foolishness, and it made Heisenberg’s heart fill. Ethan had been similarly undeterred by the nightmarish castle on his first entry…Karl had witnessed that firsthand.

And now after insulting Heisenberg, Ethan had walked right back to the imposing structure. Idiot. Heisenberg didn’t know what, if any, of Alcina’s horrors still lurked there, and he wondered if the castle was as insulated from the mold as his factory had been. It had been the only spot where he could get peace; Miranda’s eyes were not threaded into the piping. Though they probably would have been if she could have made it grow there.

Karl felt a pang of something as he watched Ethan disappear across the drawbridge. Guilt? He reminded himself that the whole point of bringing Ethan back–of doing all of this, was to stop Miranda for good. But Karl also knew that was a convenient excuse. He lamented for what was to come, and reaffirmed to himself that he’d do anything for Ethan and his daughter. It would come to that, the closer they got to Miranda’s power. Karl didn’t know anything about the village’s origin and how it connected to Miranda, but that didn’t matter.

It would still end in sorrow.

—---

Karl wiped his hands on the grease rag as he turned to give Eva an estimate of time. Rose wanted to sit on Karl’s lap again, and play with the controls, but now he had a leak to fix. Rosemary was not happy about this pause of playtime. Right now, the toddler was yelling, slapping her hands into the mud near the carved soon-to-be river. Ethan was going to kill them when he saw how dirty the girl was, but it would be worth it.

Eva was knelt beside Rose, likely picking out flowers or bugs to look at. When Karl sauntered toward them, she looked up at her “brother” expectantly, but a strange look crossed her face.

“Something is…”

“Mold? Miranda?”

“No…Ethan is…”

Karl’s posture instantly stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel he is calling me,” she said contemplatively.

“Go,” Karl said quickly, and Eva raised a white-blond eyebrow.

“Are you certain? I didn’t know that he could do that….it feels as though he has moved far away. Somehow.”

Karl’s head bobbed under the hat. “Go. Leave Rose, I got her.”

“All right,” Eva said, straightening. She tilted her head. “He doesn’t seem to be in pain or afraid,” she added in a hopeful voice. “Just confused, lost.”

“Yeah, that’s Ethan every day,” Karl supplied in an annoyed tone. When he gestured at her impatiently, she waved a hand as if to tell him to quit worrying, and then blinked out of existence.

Karl was taken aback by this though he’d seen it many times. “Fuckin’ mold people,” he muttered, and tossed the rag up onto his shoulder. Now he moved to sit on the dirt bank next to the toddler, but she was staring at the spot where Eva had disappeared.

“Eba.”

“Yeah, she’ll be back,” Karl answered dismissively, as if straight up disappearing was a normal thing for adults to do. “You want me to keep workin’ on our machine, or you wanna go play in the mud? We can throw rocks–”

Rose was pointing to the spot where Eva had gone, and then in a moment, she too flickered out of Heisenberg’s sight.

—-------

“I…I’m sorry, I don't.”

Eva had taught him how language “worked” in the Mold. Many languages spoken throughout the centuries existed, cataloged, accompanied by the emotions and memories spoken in that language. It was not easy or effective to try talking to someone if they were unaware they were in the “dream state”, but it could be done–or so she had said. What was important was consciousness on both speakers' parts. And, emotions mattered as well. Intent. Will to understand and communicate. Curiosity. With these traits, beings within the strata had hope of speaking through the voices, the collective.

Or so she had said.

But Ethan realized as he stuttered, still staring up at the other, that he had no idea how to orchestrate that collective to do anything he’d asked it to. He had felt similarly stupid when trying to materialize a body for Eva. But that had worked, hadn’t it? So he would keep trying.

The blond licked his lips and tried a timid smile. The absolute beast of a man in front of Ethan raised an eyebrow and yanked again on the plate, bowl, whatever the hell it was. Ethan suddenly felt the floor fall away. The sensation of turning upside down made him yelp, but he floundered in sudden darkness. WAS he upside down?

His hands moved in front of his eyesight; he could see them, but dimly. As he watched, they blinked in and out of sight, changing. Whole. Then maimed. Bandaged. Whole again. Blackened. He was falling, he realized, and tilted his head back. There were strange windows around him. Ethan had no memory of this place, or anything like it. But then he realized this wasn’t a place. It was many places. It was everywhere, nowhere. The void. The “deeper” layers that Eva spoke of were spinning, out of reach, around him.

“Eva,” he called aloud, and then felt overwhelming dizziness. Ethan succumbed to it quickly.

When he awoke it was with a grunt, and Ethan was surprised to see that he was standing. Standing…where?

An intricate rug was under his feet. But it looked different than anything in the castle. And everything several feet past him was blurry, rainbow prisms blending around what looked like impossibly tall columns. When he tilted his head back he saw darkness. The inky black of the void. Eva had warned him of this.

Eva, he tried again, in his mind, feeling as if his voice were muffled. I have no fucking idea where I am.

Hazel eyes wandered the sparse surroundings and landed on the man who was now walking away from Ethan, holding the golden bowl as if it were a treasured prize, turning it in the soft light that fell around them. He was dressed in what the blond supposed was a medieval, Ottoman style tunic. It was just as ornate as the rug.

Somehow, the man’s flowing hair gave the impression that he was underdressed, or being rebellious. Ethan watched, fascinated, as red liquid began to pour from….the air? Into the plate that the man held out in front of him. Was it wine? As he stared, mesmerized, Ethan realized he knew exactly where he stood.

The benches were different, and the cathedral was intact, even if it blurred from his vision and only appeared in bands of soft, overlapping colors. This was the church. The same church where the Four Lords had argued over his fate. Well, really only two had argued. The benches were arranged similarly, two sets facing each other, but the pulpit had a golden throne. This was where the tall brunette strode, happily sitting with his full bowl of wine. He did so rather gracefully, and now beckoned Ethan toward him.

The blond’s mouth felt dry and he strangely obeyed without intending to. As he walked, the other’s eyes were on him, burning a hole in him. It reminded him of how Karl stared at him sometimes, as though Ethan were a strange creature, but a delicacy. The gaze was intense-commanding, as well as curious.

The man-Godric, Ethan assumed, wasted no time in enjoying the wine, sipping from it as he continued to stare into Ethan’s soul. Suddenly the blond’s vision was interrupted by different scenes. He saw, unwillingly, Mia at their wedding. Eveline’s face. Jack’s. Then Chris, helping Ethan sight a rifle on the range. Rosemary after her birth, when he’d cut her umbilical cord. Miranda in the fallow plot, laughing as she walked away from him. Then Karl, on one knee in this very room, speaking to him in a growl.

“Are you…reading my mind?” Ethan questioned, his voice shrill. He wasn’t even upset about it, and found himself fascinated. His ears reddened as the memory of Karl stomping into his room, kissing him, entered his mind. He’d held up the compass to pacify Karl, attempting to dissuade the angry advance.

“Ah!” Godric seemed to stop here, and the memory fell away as he pointed a finger accusingly at Ethan. Next, he pointed the finger at his own lips, and his expression became almost humored. Was he making fun of Ethan for being kissed by Heisenberg? But then he gestured at his neck, and the blond tilted his head, trying to refrain from scowling. He was a bit too intimidated by this tank of a being, and beyond that, seemed to sense that the humor was not ill intent.

“You want…me to show you the necklace?”

When the man’s eyes lit up, Ethan took another uncertain step toward the throne and threaded his fingers through the gold chain. He paused to look at his left hand as his right lifted the metal. His fingers looked normal. Thank God.

The man had already gulped half of the wine, and now sat the bowl on one large leg as he leaned forward, his intense eyes narrowing at the compass. Ethan had to move even closer, and as he leaned forward, so too did the sitting King, until their faces were a foot away. Godric’s expression turned almost wistful, sentimental. Large hands stroked the gold, his thumb tracing over the glass.

“It was mine,” he finally said, each word a struggle on unfamiliar lips. It barely sounded like English, but Ethan stared, incredulous, just the same. The dumbfounded look changed as a smile threatened to creep across his face.

“Yours.”

He wanted to see if the other could understand him now. The man looked sharply at Ethan before nodding slowly. Just as Ethan scoffed, feeling the need to pull away from the very close face, he sensed a change around them. Something moving. He turned back toward the benches, where the shimmering colors around them opened, parting like curtains. And beyond the curtains was a looming darkness.

“Miranda?” he asked, breathless. Could she manifest here? Could she sense him?

The King hissed at this and stood, knocking over the wine and bowl entirely before stomping in front of Ethan, protectively. The gesture caused Ethan’s ears to redden even more–was this really a relative of Heisenbergs? It was almost comically romance-novel-esque. But his pondering was instantly interrupted, his fears melting when Eva stepped from the void.

“Eva!”

“Ethan!” She stared, incredulous, first at the man, and then around the room. Her expression was awe, then confusion. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, but then Eva was speaking to the King in an unfamiliar language. The man relaxed, nodded, and spoke back. When Ethan raised his eyebrows, she translated, “He says that he brought you here. This is fascinating.”

“I thought you were Miranda,” he exhaled, causing the King to stiffen again. “Apparently even he knows who she is.”

The King spoke, and Eva nodded. Godric seemed to consider Ethan, and turned toward him with a rather saddened, yet comforting, half-smirk. “Safe, here.”

Eva’s eyes widened at the broken English, but before she could comment on it, the same sliver of void opened behind her and someone else stepped through.

“Rosemary!” Ethan could have passed out. Eva spun, and Godric actually chuckled, a sound which should have been heartwarming but was terrifying.

“How did she…?”

“She must have followed me,” Eva said, looking both impressed and shocked. “I have not gone this far into the layers with a physical body. But perhaps it is easy to find us, for her.”

“That’s not good,” Ethan said flatly. “We need to get her out of here.”

“Why?” Eva sounded almost indignant. “She is with us. She is even better at moving than we.”

“Because Miranda might be here? I don’t want her to…”

“No,” the King commanded, and he moved toward the child, bending down on one knee. When Rose walked toward the imposing figure he put one gigantic hand on her head, patting it as if she were a dog. Eva giggled at this, but Ethan stared, unimpressed.

“She is strong!” His English was getting better, somehow. Ethan wanted to marvel at the situation, but he sighed instead. He knew that Rosemary was strong, but sometimes he wished she could just live a normal life, unburdened by being the miracle that no one could just leave alone.

Rosemary however, seemed to love the man, and giggled, moving right into his arms. This shocked Ethan, but he again was too intimidated to really speak. Godric carried Rose past Ethan, and sat her on the throne, before sitting on the step next to her. He now pointed at Eva.

“You, I know. You left.”

“I did.” She sounded conversational, as though this entire situation was normal and acceptable. When the man gestured to the benches, Eva and Ethan both took seats across from each other. Ethan looked up at the void, which had slowly begun to drip from the ceiling, creating oozing lines of black around the edges of his vision.

“Are we…safe?”

“We have some time,” she answered with a nod. The Mold’s settings seemed to change and shimmer like dreams, and the less established in its ‘mind’ a place was, the more it would change and morph. This carried a risk of getting lost, especially if the memory or place wasn’t someone’s own.

The King, who had given up his throne for a one year old, and now sat comfortably on the steps, grabbed the dropped bowl and held it out again, manifesting wine from air.

“Why.” It wasn’t a question.

Eva considered, rubbing her pale hands up her own arms. “I wanted to experience life as a human, in the human world…since I died so young,” she answered cautiously, and then said the same sentence in whatever language he spoke. Ethan paused, wondering how he knew what she’d said.

Godric drank. His eyes landed on Ethan again. Now he looked at them both, interestedly. “You do not know what you have done,” he said in a careful tone, but he seemed relieved that he could at last explain it. “Lost balance.”

“We did? How?” Ethan spoke before thinking. He bit his lip.

Godric leaned back, letting Rose play with his hair, which she had been doing eagerly. He stroked his long beard, chuffing as if exasperated, and then closed his eyes. He was willing the words to appear. Though the man could speak his own language fluently with Eva, he seemed to want to communicate with Ethan more.

Ethan noticed that the edges of the man’s body seemed to flicker as his own hands did earlier. He looked almost like a hologram sometimes, light passing through him rather than onto his skin. Ethan glanced at Eva and said in a low voice, “Is he okay? What’s happening to him?”

“He has been here a very long time,” she responded, reverence in her voice. “I think it is very hard for him to manifest. Remember the dementia I spoke of earlier? I do not know how he has resisted it so long. To be himself. Not a part of the collective. It might be very hard for him to appear as he does now.”

Godric’s eyes had opened and he stared at Eva impassively as she spoke. Whether or not she was right, he seemed to have no intention of saying, because after she spoke the man’s eyes moved back to Ethan and he smirked at him.

“The Black God must take a mother. She is the Queen.” He wagged his finger at Eva. “You left, no Heir.”

“I was the Queen?” Eva seemed genuinely shocked at this, and then amused. But her smile faded as she asked, “But what does that mean? What is being a Queen?”

“Like a…” the man searched his mind for the word, and then spoke a sharp syllable. Ethan somehow understood this as well.

“Like a bee?”

He nodded and shrugged. Still stroking his beard, he continued. “To watch, protect, keep the health. A soul is given power to move as warden of the worlds.”

Eva’s eyes were huge. “I…was given this power? But why?”

Godric waved a hand, and at once the memory that Eva had shown him returned to Ethan’s mind. Miranda as she had looked while alive, wandering through a blackened cave and hearing Eva’s voice. Begging her to return. She had touched the mycelium, Ethan remembered, and he frowned.

“I think the Mold…tried to use you, but maybe when Miranda touched it, it…tried to use her instead?” Ethan interrupted, and Godric nodded emphatically.

“But why? Why would it change its….mind?”

The King answered this one, as Rosemary babbled behind him. “It should always be mother. Not a child. One who grows life, taken care of new life. This is what it wants. A womb.”

Ethan’s eyes widened at the memory of the disgusting center of the mold. The fetus-like shape on all the cult-like decor. Maybe the Mold was right about Miranda being a mother, but that was where her qualifications to become ward over an entire network of human consciousness ended.

Guess the mold wasn’t any better at picking out toxic people than its many inhabitants.

“Oh my.” Eva looked crestfallen. Godric was staring a hole through Ethan again.

“You are not healing so fast. Yes?”

“I..uh..” He thought of Karl’s bite marks. Ethan should have been embarrassed, but the situation was too weird for that fleeting feeling. “Yes.”

“It will die,” Godric nodded slowly, as if deciding something. “Without a Queen.”

“What!?” Ethan’s voice was sharp, echoing across the room. Godric shimmered again, and the lines of void seemed to strengthen.

Eva had a different question. “Wait, does this mean that my mother is the current…Queen?”

“No,” he said darkly. “She is…denied.”

My powers are leaving me.

Her cries of chagrin, black tears down her face, just before their battle. It echoed in Ethan’s head. He finally understood. The blond stared at his feet, and then back up at the dripping void.

The silence was palpable. Finally he spoke. “We should leave soon.”

Eva seemed unable to speak. She nodded mutely at his suggestion, and then Godric stood, extending the bowl toward Ethan. When the blond uncertainly took it, Godric pulled him closer, threading a dark-skinned hand through Ethan’s blond hair. Ethan froze at this.

He remembered all of the writings of the researcher who had known this man in life. He had written about the great charisma of the leader. The man had stayed in the village many years, eventually becoming close to the ruler. Probably closer than his journals detailed. His descriptions and sketches had been quite close to reality, but it was another thing to see up close.

Godric withdrew his hand from Ethan’s hair, and then brushed the same thumb over the glass of the compass at Ethan’s heart. His gaze was contemplative when he leaned forward and gave the blond a kiss on the cheek. Ethan was still frozen during this maneuver, his heart thudding in his chest even after the larger man pulled away. Now Godric slowly released the plate into Ethan’s hands.

“Find me again,” he said simply, and now he drew back, taking another step to move out of Rose’s way as she toddled from the throne across the steps to Eva. Eva still sat rather dejectedly on the bench that Alcina had once taken in life. When Rose approached, Eva smiled and seemed to wash her expression of sorrow, before she stood.

“Shall we, Ethan?”

“Goodbye, Ethan,” Godric said solemnly as he took his seat on the throne, kicking one leg up over the other knee in a gesture similar to Karl.

—----

When Ethan, Eva, and Rosemary landed in the field, sunlight poured into his eyes and caused him to squint against the sun. Ethan noticed Karl standing nearby, a rather awestruck look on his face.

“What the hell was that?”

“It’s a long story,” Ethan breathed, and then he did a double-take at Karl’s expression. “What?”

“Eva just disappeared, then Rose,” Karl explained, tossing his hand up, “Next thing I know, you’re all here.”

“It was instant?” Ethan frowned, but Eva reminded him, “Time moves differently in those realms.”

It explained why the time between his ‘dying’ after leaving Chris, and reanimating afterward felt like years. Or why his dreams seemed to be far longer than his sleeping time. Ethan saw the confusion and fear still laced on the engineer’s face, and he moved toward him in a rare show of comfort, his long fingers tracing the scarred, tanned skin on Heisenberg’s jaw.

“I’m sorry.”

Heisenberg scoffed, but didn’t move away from Ethan’s hand.

“An’ you think I’m teachin’ her bad habits.” He gestured to Rosemary.

Ethan’s attempt at a reassuring smile faded as he nodded in agreement, noting the mud all over his daughter. “You’re right.”

However, after another moment, he looked suspiciously back at Karl. “You didn’t put her in the excavator, did you?”

“Only til she broke it,” he announced triumphantly, and Ethan’s scowl made the engineer laugh aloud. “You jealous, Buttercup? Want the next turn on my lap?”

Ethan sighed in exasperation, and turned to Eva. She still looked shaken, and Ethan put his arm around her, having a far easier time comforting her than he did Heisenberg. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised. She nodded, but said nothing.

#heisenwinters #wintersberg #ethan winters #karl heisenberg #rosemary winters #four lords #resident evil village

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radama-zard · 2 years

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Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 22 - Feign

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

FCG & Anni (Krook House QueerPlatonic Polycule - Modern Human AU)

Today comes with a warning. Sexual Assault is mentioned in this piece. So if it's a trigger then I suggest you skip today's piece!

“Welcome home, Anni! How was your day?”

Fresh Cut Grass watched as the half asian woman scowled, chucking her bag to the floor with an audibly loud thunk. Ah, bad then. Bad enough that she wasn't even cursing up a storm, it seemed.

Instead Anni stood there, her whole frame shaking.

To not even feign that she was okay…

“Oh… Very bad then.” they whispered, before wheeling up to her side and tentatively reaching out. Some days she couldn't stand to be touched, so it was always best to silently ask permission.

No flinching or stepping away, a good sign.

A second later Anni was leaning into his touch, before slipping her hand into their own.

“... Would you like to talk about it? Have comfort? Or maybe a distraction instead?”

Anni shrugged and absentmindedly kicked the door shut behind her.

“Ash and Milo are out right now. Tai Chi night and all. I think they said they'll be back pretty late, they're seeing that mecha movie after! So um, we have the place to ourselves! We can pull out the amps and make a real racket!”

“... Don't have the energy.”

“Oh well, um… The Pit then? I’ll even give you a ride over there!”

Anni stared down at Fresh Cut Grass, her expression unreadable for a good five seconds. A sigh slipped past her lips, which quirked into the slightest of smiles.

“Yeah, The Pit,” she uttered, her voice a little raspy. Had Anni been crying earlier? It took everything they had to not start prying there and then. That never went well with Anni. “I can walk through. I got legs. Workin’ legs. Workin’ legs that don't hurt like a mother fucker when I walk.”

Ah, there she was! That was the Anni Fresh Cut Grass knew and loved.

Not that quiet Anni was bad, it was just concerning. Quiet Anni usually meant something was badly wrong.

“Okay, but the offer’s still there if you want it later!”

Anni chuckled weakly, letting go of their hand to allow them the freedom to wheel themself over to The Pit. Once they were both there and safely within it’s cozy confines, she drew Fresh Cut Grass in, burying her face in their coily locks.

“... Had a full day of bullshit. Couldn't scream at asshole customers, then at the end had my stupid fuckin’ boss scream at me for not ‘smiling enough’. Like me feigning that I don't wanna kill all those fuckers ain't enough for that bastard! Threatened to sack me if I don't act more like the ‘sweet, pretty ladies’ he likes out front…"

They nodded along sympathetically, lips pursed tight as they did. Both in an attempt to give Anni the space she needed to rant, and to keep their own opinions to himself for now.

“...Then the fucker got handsy. So I slapped him, because NO ONE gets to touch me like that! The bastard then had the audacity to threaten to call the cops on me if I didn't quit on the spot! … So now I'm jobless, pissed off and… and…”

Fresh Cut Grass could feel Anni shudder in their arms, as they felt the incredibly rare flames of white hot fury burn from deep within. That man would certainly need to face justice. Or at least find himself a few teeth down and a rib or three broken in a dark alleyway one night, if Ashton were to have their way.

Honestly right now violence didn't seem all that awful of a solution.

But maybe, to be safe, they should bring this up with Gramps Eshteross first. If Anni was okay with that. A thought for later though.

“Anni I… I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve any of that. I sure hope you gave him a smack at least.”

“Fuck yeah I did. You know I gave it my all! He’s gonna be bruised for at least a week.”

“Good! … But um… still. That- We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to. I won't force you to talk about anything you don't want to. But this- I mean, you're safe with me, Anni. I know I'm not super strong like Ashton, or quick witted and fast thinking like Milo, but I'd do anything to keep you safe, Ni! You're real important to me… I love you. A lot.”

“... Fuck G-Grass,” Anni’s voice wavered dangerously, the imminent threat of tears coming to all so fast as suddenly, and with little warning, she was sobbing into Freah Cut Grass’ unnaturally silver locks. There he held her, steady and close, whispering gentle words of affirmation. Most went right over her head, instead their sweet tone being all she heard.

And honestly? That was all she needed right now.

Just kindness, honest and pure, and the safety of being in the trusted arms of one she loved so deeply.

To be free to cry, to feel, without having to feign a thing.

#dungeons & drabbles #drabblewrimo #critical role #fcg #anni #Anni Aughta #Krook House #FCG & Anni #queerplatonic #queer platonic relationship #modern au #human au #tw assault #day 22 - feign #Metal Song #Dungeons & Drabbles 2022

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ddudumemes · 3 years

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SOUR SENTENCE STARTERS

(( collection of ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY THREE sentence starters taken from OLIVIA RODRIGO’s first album ‘ SOUR ’ . ))

001. BRUTAL . ‘ i think that i'll die before i drink . ’ ‘ who likes me ?? ’ ‘ who hates you ?? ’ ‘ who am i if not exploited ?? ’ ‘ where's my fucking teenage dream ?? ’ ‘ i don't stick up for myself . ’ ‘ i'm anxious and nothing can help . ’ ‘ and i wish i'd done this before . ’ ‘ and i wish people liked me more . ’ ‘ all i did was try my best , this the kinda thanks i get ?? ’ ‘ i wish i could disappear . ’ ‘ ego crush is so severe . ’ ‘ god , it's brutal out here . ’ ‘ i feel like no one wants me . ’ ‘ and i hate the way i'm perceived . ’ ‘ i only have two real friends . ’ ‘ lately , i'm a nervous wreck . ’ ‘ i'm not cool , and i'm not smart , and i can't even parallel park . ’ ‘ got a broken ego , and broken heart . ’ ‘ god , i don't even know where to start . ’

002. TRAITOR . ‘ i played dumb , but i always knew . ’ ‘ i kept quiet so i could keep you . ’ ‘ ain't it funny how you ran to her the second that we called it quits ?? ’ ‘ ain't it funny how you said you were friends ?? now it sure as hell don't look like it . ’ ‘ you betrayed me . ’ ‘ i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way i hurt . ’ ‘ you talked to her when we were together . ’ ‘ loved you at your worst , but that didn't matter . ’ ‘ it took you two weeks to go off and date her . ’ ‘ guess you didn't cheat , but you're still a traitor . ’ ‘ there's no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly . ’ ‘ remember i brought her up and you told me i was paranoid ?? ’ ‘ god , i wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you . ’ ‘ you gave me your word , but that didn't matter . ’ 003. DRIVERS LICENSE . ‘ i got my driver's license last week . ’ ‘ you were so excited for me . ’ ‘ and you're  probably  with  that blonde girl who  always made me  doubt . ’ ‘ she's everything i'm insecure about . ’ ‘ how could i ever love someone else ?? ’ ‘ i know we weren't perfect but i've never felt this way for no one . ’ ‘ i just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that i'm gone . ’ ‘ guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me . ’ ‘ you said forever , now i drive alone past your street . ’ ‘ all my friends are tired of hearing how much i miss you . ’ ‘ they'll never know you the way that i do . ’ ‘ today , i drove through the suburbs and pictured i was driving home to you . ’ ‘ i still fuckin' love you , babe . ’ ‘ i still hear your voice in the traffic . ’ ‘ i know we're through but i still fuckin' love you . ’

004. 1 STEP FORWARD , 3 STEPS BACK . ‘ all i did was speak normally . somehow , i still struck a nerve . ’ ‘ you got me fucked up in the head , boy . ’ ‘ never doubted myself so much . ’ ‘ am i pretty ?? am i fun ?? ’ ‘ i hate that i give you power over that kinda stuff . ’ ‘ it's always one step forward and three steps back . ’ ‘ i'm the love of your life until i make you mad . ’ ‘ do you love me , want me , hate me ?? ’ ‘ i don't understand . ’ ‘ maybe in some masochistic way i kind of find it all exciting . ’ ‘ which lover will i get today ?? ’ ‘ will you walk me to the door or send me home crying ?? ’ ‘ did i say something wrong ?? ’ ‘ it's back and forth , going over everything i said . ’ ‘ did i do something wrong ?? ’ ‘ maybe this is all your fault instead . ’ ‘ i'd leave you , but the rollercoaster's all i've ever had . ’

005. DEJA VU . ‘ so when you gonna tell her that we did that too ?? ’ ‘ that was our place , i found it first . ’ ‘ i made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you . ’ ‘ do you get déjà vu when she’s with you ?? ’ ‘ do you get déjà vu ?? ’ ‘ do you call her , almost say my name ?? ’ ‘ let's be honest , we kinda do sound the same . ’ ‘ i hate to think that i was just your type . ’ ‘ now i bet you even tell her how you love her . ’ ‘ don't act like we didn't do that shit too . ’ ‘ you're tradin' jackets like we used to do . ’ ‘ a different girl now , but there's nothing new . ’ ‘ i know you get déjà vu . ’

006. GOOD 4 U . ‘ good for you , i guess you moved on really easily . ’ ‘ you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks . ’ ‘ remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world ?? ’ ‘ good for you , i guess that you've been workin' on yourself . ’ ‘ i guess that therapist i found for you , she really helped . ’ ‘ now you can be a better man for your brand new girl . ’ ‘ well , good for you you look happy and healthy , not me , if you ever cared to ask . ’ ‘ good for you you're doin' great out there without me , baby , god , i wish that i could do that . ’ ‘ i've lost my mind , i've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom . ’ ‘ you're so unaffected , i really don't get it but i guess good for you . ’ ‘ well , good for you , i guess you're gettin' everything you want . ’ ‘ it's like we never even happened baby , ��what the fuck is up with that ?? ’ ‘ good for you , it's like you never even met me . ’ ‘ remember when you swore to god i was the only person who ever got you ?? well , screw that , and screw you . ’ ‘ you will never have to hurt the way you know that i do !! ’ ‘ maybe i'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt . ’ ‘ maybe i'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all . ’ ‘ maybe i'm too emotional . ’ ‘ your apathy is like a wound in salt . ’ ‘ maybe you never cared at all . ’ ‘ good for you you're doin' great out there without me , baby , like a damn sociopath . ’

007. ENOUGH FOR YOU . ‘ i wore makeup when we dated 'cause i thought you'd like me more . ’ ‘ tried so hard to be everything that you  liked . ’ ‘ i knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart . ’ ‘ i read all of your self-help books so you'd think that i was smart . ’ ‘ i knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave . ’ ‘ you found someonе more exciting the nеxt second , you were gone . ’ ‘ you left me there cryin' , wonderin' what i did wrong . ’ ‘ and you always say i'm never satisfied but i don't think that's true . ’ ‘ all i ever wanted was to be enough for you . ’ ‘ and maybe i'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before . ’ ‘ but god , you couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more . ’ ‘ i'd say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that . ’ ‘ i don't want your sympathy , i just want myself back . ’ ‘ i just want myself back . ’ ‘ don't you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded ?? ’ ‘ don't you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing ?? ’ ‘ but don't tell me you're sorry . ’ ‘ feel sorry for yourself . ’ ‘ someday , i'll be everything to somebody else . ’ ‘ you say i'm never satisfied but that's not me , it's you . ’ ‘ all i ever wanted was to be enough . ’ ‘ i don't think anything could ever be enough for you . ’ ‘ nothing's enough for you . ’

008. HAPPIER . ‘ you've moved on , found someone new . ’ ‘ i thought my heart was detached from all the  sunlight  of  our past . ’ ‘ does she mean you forgot about me ?? ’ ‘ i hope you're happy but not like how you were with me . ’ ‘ i'm selfish , i know , i can't let you go . ’ ‘ find someone great , but don't find no one better . ’ ‘ i hope you're happy , but don't be happier . ’ ‘ do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen ?? ’ ‘ remember when i believed you meant it when you said it first to me ?? ’ ‘ and now i'm pickin' her apart like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart . ’ ‘ she's beautiful , she looks kind ... she probably gives you butterflies . ’ ‘ i wish you all the best , really . ’ ‘ say you love her , just not like you loved me . ’ ‘ think of me fondly when your hands are on her . ’

009. JEALOUSY , JEALOUSY . ‘ i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room . ’ ‘ i know their beauty's not  my  lack . ’ ‘ i can't let it go . ’ ‘ comparison is killin' me slowly . ’ ‘ i think i think too much 'bout kids who don't know me . ’ ‘ i'm so sick of myself . ’ ‘ i'd rather be anyone else . ’ ‘ my jealousy started followin' me . ’ ‘ i'm happy for them , but then again , i'm not . ’ ‘ oh god , i sound crazy . ’ ‘ their win is not my loss . ’ ‘ i can't help gettin' caught up in it all . ’ ‘ all your friends are so cool , you go out every night . ’ ‘ you're livin' the life . ’ ‘ i wanna be you so bad and i don't even know you . ’ ‘ all i see is what i should be: happier . prettier . ’ ‘ all i see is what i should be . ’ ‘ i'm losin' it , all i get's jealousy . ’

010. FAVORITE CRIME . ‘ know that i loved you so bad i let you treat me like that . ’ ‘ i was your willing accomplice . ’ ‘ i watched as you fled the scene . ’ ‘ one heart broke , four hands bloody . ’ ‘ the things i did just so i could call you mine . ’ ‘ the things you did … well , i hope i was your favorite crime . ’ ‘ you used me as an alibi . ’ ‘ i defended you to all my friends . ’ ‘ now every time a siren sounds i wondеr if you're around . ’ ‘ 'cause you know that i'd do it all again . ’ ‘ i hope i was your favorite crime . ’ ‘ it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we'd do . ’ ‘ i was goin' down , but i was doin' it with you . ’ ‘ i say that i hate you with a smile on my face . ’ ‘ look what we became . ’ ‘ i hope i was your favorite crime , 'cause baby , you were mine . ’

011. HOPE UR OK . ‘ his parents cared more about the bible than being good to their own child . ’ ‘ he wore long sleeves 'cause of his dad . ’ ‘ somehow , we fell out of touch . ’ ‘ don't know if i'll see you again someday but if you're out there , i hope that you're okay . ’ ‘ she raised her brothers on hеr own . ’ ‘ she couldn't wait to go to college . ’ ‘ she was brought into a world where family was merely blood . ’ ‘ we don't talk much , but i just gotta say i miss you and i hope that you're okay . ’ ‘ nothing's forever , nothing is as good as it seems . ’ ‘ well , i hope you know how proud i am you were created . ’ ‘ but , god , i hope that you're happier today . ’ ‘ 'cause i love you and i hope that you're okay . ’

#sour sentence starters #sour meme #lyrics meme #rp meme #ask meme #sentence starters #rp starters #lyric starters #music starters #this has been sitting in my drafts since this album came out

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haechanokeh · 3 years

Text

I'm Right For You [pt.1 ]

[teaser/ prologue] [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ]

✓ I recommend listen to Die For You by The Weeknd every time reading this story 😌

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

warning (this chapter): HIGH SEXUAL TENSION, masturbation and sex dream.

warning (the series): corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, anal sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, psychology, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark

word count: 2.3K

I think I'm right for you, babe. You know what I'm thinking, see it in your eyes. You hate that you want me, hate it when you cry. It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect and I know that you're worth it I can't walk away. (Die for you by The Weeknd)

Mark was the least classmate you want to be pair with, Not because he slacks, not a good student because god knows he’s an excellent student. you just don’t like how different from you, it was unexplainable but you feel so intimidated- you can’t even look straight into his eyes. mark receives a lot of recognition and everyone adores him. he’s very kind. everyone wants to hang out with him well mark is very friendly, he's really a good influence they say. he doesn't smoke, he drinks but not that much, plus he encourages the class to attend bible study- his father is a pastor. but you never hangout with anyone unless it's school related.

“my house? y/n? are you listening?” he lowered his head to check your face looking down on the textbook the whole time. he grabbed your attention, your eyes quickly shifted anywhere but him.

“ah... ahm i’m good with library, i don’t want to cause any inconvenience.” you politely rejected his suggestion to where you can do your case study in clinical pharmacy. it’s just it doesn’t look good if a girl is alone with man in a house.

“but we can’t talk properly in the library.” he reasoned, and you knew he has a point.

“ahm, maybe in coffee shops?” no, you heard mark dislike going to coffee shop just to study, he said the key to ace the exams are study at home or library. studying in coffee shop causes inconvenience too for people who truly want to enjoy coffees.

“okay fine. your house.” you sighed. he showed his infamous smile.

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mark said that they have visitors in their house so both of you decided to go you didn't know that mark lives in a fancy condominium. his house look so expensive, you very conscious to move, afraid that you might break something.

"what are you standing there?" he chuckled and put down his bag on the floor beside the couch. you're standing still on the doorway. "sit here." he patted the long sofa next to the couch.

you quietly walked towards the sofa and sit on it, stiffly which made mark chuckle again.

"do you want water, soda, tea, coffee, or me?" he winked, teasing you. you blushed, and you really despise that feeling every time he's around. you don't like it when he makes you flustered.

"water." you brushed off the intimidation. your tone changed slightly like you're annoyed.

mark could easily read people, he's really good at it. he knew you dislike him but something in your eyes say different. mark has been building this sexual tension between you for so long already but it still amazes him that you always block it. rather giving up, he was motivated and it became an addiction. he wanted tou so badly.

"okay water it is." he just said.

you opened your bag and get your notes in chemistry. you saw mark’s phone light up, and you saw his phone wallpaper. it was just in front of you, his wallpaper is a girl facing down on the table as if she's sleeping but what caught your eyes the most is that her matching bracelets with written bold letters life. then you analyze whether it was you, you have the same hair color and the two rings in the middle finger too. you literally froze, analyzing what's going on.

"y/n, here's your water and a sliced of cake that my brother baked." you almost jumped when he appeared. his brows met in confusion when he caught you so surprised. he put the tray on the table. "something wrong?"

your mouth felt dry.

"n-nothing." you stuttered. mark gave you an unconvinced look but just shrugged. he reach for his phone. you suddenly feel thirsty so you reach for the glass of water and drink it.

"ahm... who's on your wallpaper? ah- your phone light up i think someone texted you." you said returned to gulping the water

"you." he casually answered. you chocked and spat out the water from your mouth. the glass slipped from your hand and thank goodness it landed on your thigh safely but you clothes became wet.

mark only watched you while laughing on your cute reaction. you glared at him.

"i'm sorry, you're just too cute." he apologized suppressing his laugh. mark sat beside you and grabbed the glass from your lap and put it back on top of the table. "i still don't get it why you never notice my signals." he said, wiping your face using the sleeves of his sweater.

it sends you shivers, his touch did but his mischievousness no. you were slightly annoyed.

“you don’t like me huh.” he pretend to be hurt.

“stop playing.” you said and look down on your shirt. “my shirt is wet now.”

mark stare at your silhouette shirt and your flesh and black bra are showing in front of his eyes.

“i think i should go home.” you were disappointed, both of you haven’t accomplished anything yet.

she’s going home? like that?

“you can barrow my shirt for the mean time.” he stood up.

“really? thanks.” you stood up and follow him.\

i just confessed but i don’t think she get it. she’s really something. a small smile plastered in his face but you weren’t able to see it since his back was facing you.

he opened his door’s room and he went in with you. you slightly observed his room, nothing special but there’s a lot of book on the shelf and two kinds of guitar. he loves music and ready, you find it amusing though. your eyes followed him getting shirt from his closet.

we walked towards you.

“here.” he gave you a generous smile. he extended his hand to give you his shirt. you reached for it and once your hand was on it he swiftly hide it behind your back causing you to stumble on the his bed.

“i’m sorry.” you sat up and you froze when he stand in between the first thing you saw was his clothed abdomen. you looked up and the unfamiliar mark was now looking down on you.

"i just confessed to you y/n, are you aware or just pretending that it didn’t happen, hmm?” he caressed your cheek that gave you goosebumps.” do you hate me? despise me? but why am i seeing in your eyes, you want me and you hate it weren't you?"

the air became thick, your mouth just parted and eyes staring at him. you're still processing what he said, it made you question your hate towards him.

hate was a strong word, you don't hate him but you hate whatever he made you feel, like right now. you're heart is going crazy. you just realize that you really like it and it's hard for you to admit because you know that he will do not good to you. you will just get hurt because he will never like you back, but that's not the case anymore. although you're doubting his confession, you seemed to love the idea of having him.

you gulped, your throat became dry once more. cat got your tongue and your brain stopped working- you can’t even process what’s going on. it was gentle but it feels icy like his voice and eyes. he’s not mark, at least that’s what you think.

“mark... i- what’s-” you have no idea what you want to say.

he slowly and carefully traced your parted lips. mark felt arouse thinking how good it feels to sucked by these tiny mouth of yours. he lifted your chin using his thumb and middle finger and with no hesitations he captured your lips. you lost your sanity. you melted and so as your surviving rationality.

he cupped your jaws and he deepened the kiss, tongue inside and he locked your mouths. the sensation went straight to your core. you felt like the world stop revolving around the sun and heat just absorbed mark’s room. the sloppy and wet kisses became louder than the aircon. heat rose from your chest. you were unaware but your hands were on the back of his head playing with his hair. he released a smug smile which you did not noticed. this is your first kiss, no one ever kissed you... well you never had a boyfriend.

a wicked idea won in mark’s hand, his hands skimmed down your body until it reached you thigh. he parted and caressed it. but it was a bad idea for him, senses snapped back on you.

you quickly separated your self, pushing him and you stood up. you quickly get up from his bed.

“I need to use your toilet, excuse me.” your heart was pounding loud and you feel so hot. you walked passed him and walking to his room.

mark quick on his feet before you even enter his bathroom not a toilet. he turned you.

“why did we stop?” he groaned eyes glued on your lips.

“if you’re bored and just want to play, please not me Mark.” you begged, lips quivering because you know deep down in you, you’re close to giving in. His eyes masked with darkness, jaws clenched. he stepped forward and you step back. you don’t like it when he’s too close. you hate the feeling of being weak.

“do i look like i’m playing with you?” his voice was deep with a hint of annoyance. it was your first time to see mark like this.

mark who’s always smiling, laughing, friendly, caring, generous, and everyone adores. was now gone. in your eyes he’s like a tiger targeting its prey. it didn’t help you’re in his den and back against the wall.

“mark, i want to go home." you faintly whispered still looking straight in his eyes. you felt so small, like a prey waiting, ready to be eaten.

"do you hate me that much?" he was reaching for your cheeks but you flinched. mark was offended by your reaction. "i never been bad to you y/n, tell me what did i do to you to make you feel this scared of me." he tucked your hair behind you ear.

"i'm not scared." you almost choke when you said that. mark chuckled at your cuteness. "you're just different to me and i don't know how to act around you." his brow raised.

"i feel uncomfortable mark, can i go home?" it took a lot of courage to say that. you just want to runaway. he smiled sadly, admiring your angelic face. eyes wide open with innocence looking up to him, he felt the unfamiliar urge to dominate those eyes.

"i guess you hate what ever you are feeling towards me, but unlike you I won't runaway." he traced the side of your face, it send shivers down to your core. "because I just simply can't walkaway."

he stepped back and tucked his hands on his pants.

"you can stay, i will not do anything to you. let's finish our case study on the living room." he went back, giving you his familiar smile. the atmosphere changed, the coldness vanished and changed into warmth.

you felt at ease.

"thank you." you said and you're quick on your feet, leaving his room.

mark watch you left from his room, he erased his pretentious smile.

"how long will this last, fuck." he groaned in frustration.

awkward but bot of you at least accomplished and solved the case. he offered you to drive you back home but you insisted that he doesn’t have to but he was so persistent that you have to lie about running errand and meeting your mom.

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sleepiness caught you the moment your body touched the bed.

“mark...” you faintly moaned and covered your mouth as you watch mark thrusting his fingers on your slick producing squelching and sucking your clit.

"oh my gosh, i'm gonna cum!" you squealed and your legs started to shake. he crawled over you, hovering your naked body.

you finally met his eyes that almost melt your knees.

"i though you hate it? should i stop?"

“NO!” you gasped, and woke up from your strange dream. you sat up and was catching your breath. you felt something sticky between your thighs, shame enters your system and guilt.

"what am i thinking?" you whispered to yourself.

you felt ashamed over your dream doing something dirty with mark, however the other party was thinking of you non stop.

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mark stroking his dick, eyes closed while imagining your mouth wrapped around his cock.

"fuck, right there y/n." he moaned, after few thrust he spurted his white thick liquid.

his chest rose heavily. staring at his hands filled with his cum, there was no disgrace in his soul when he masturbate and thinking of you at the same time.

mark is always contented whatever he has, he's very simple minded but things went wrong when you caught his attention. for the first time, he want something- your body and your attention.

he thought, he wanted to be greedy, he needs to be greedy.

"will not do anything? at least for today huh?" he chuckled bitterly as he remembered what he said awhile ago to you.

"no holding back." he seriously said and wipe his hand on the blanket.

hello, i'm sorry for grammatical errors. i hope you enjoy it there's nothing much in this, just sexual tensions for chapter 1 ♥️

and i hope you like it, here's the chapter 1. @mellowvoidexpertfriend

#mark lee smut #mark lee angst #Mark smut #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee nct #mark lee fanfic #mark lee imagine #NCT 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #nct mark #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream angst #nct dream

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 21:

You were nervous, practically fainting under the pressure as you pulled open the hospital’s front door. The trip to Jaku was fairly easy, only a brief 45 minutes, and in that time you hadn’t managed to calm yourself at all.

You stomach was rolling with nerves- twisting and turning and making you feel so very sick. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to convince yourself to lower your expectations. There was nothing for you to be worried about, here! You hadn’t lied! Or hid anything, or pretended like you were a good person when you maybe weren’t.

Bakugou did that. He did that and he was the reason your eyes were still puffy and why your head still ached. He had things to apologize for- not you.

So why did it feel like all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and forget everything and just be happy?

The longer you sat with it, the more you thought you understood. Even if he was bad, even if he did bad things, he was still your soulmate. He was still the other half of you and you were selfish- so, so selfish and you couldn’t make yourself give that up. Couldn’t ever possibly make a strong enough argument for abandoning him. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to admit it. It was why you were even at the hospital after all.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

“Hi,” You greeted, hoping your smile seemed genuine to the receptionist. “Bakugou Katsuki, please, room 427.”

She just looked at you funny, tapping at the device in her ear. “Yeah, I got another girl down here asking for Dynamite? Where’s security?”

You heart began seizing, lungs stuttering with panic as she continued to stare you down. After a long fifteen seconds she spoke again.

“Well, isn’t it your lucky day. Apparently, he wants to see you. What a surprise.” She announced un-enthusiastically, handing you a slip of paper. “Take the stairs to the left, all the way up to level 4, and then follow the instructions on the paper.”

You just nodded in a daze, holding the paper in your shaking fingers and moving towards the stairs. Suddenly, you were even more nervous than before. You pushed open the stair doors, and realized this moment felt bigger than you. Bigger than anything in your entire life. Every singular event and decision had brought you here and the only thing you could do was stare dumbly at the stairs in front of you.

No. You knocked a closed fist gently against your forehead. I’m fine. I’m been waiting forever for this shit. It’s just stupid Bakugou.

You took one step, pulling your shaky legs along with two hands on the guardrail. Another step, only pull. Another step another pull. You were conquering the stairs, and this moment, gaining momentum before you knew it. With feet moving unbidden and sure and careful and climbing, you rise, steps taking you higher and higher until you hit the 4th floor. It’s a maze of hallways from there, a strange puzzle of paintings that all look the same and tiles that are two shades too dark and doctors and people rushing past and shoving, but your feet are steady, one after the other, fast, fast, faster, and you don’t falter. You don’t falter and you walk down another hallway, look at your paper, take a left, walk a little further, look at your paper, take a right, walk further and faster and further and farther, past room 423, past room 424, past room 425, past room 426, turn another corner, rush past a man wheezing in a wheelchair, skid to a stop- room 427.

You heart hammers in your chest- beating against your ribcage and threatening to burst through your too-thin skin. Your breath shudders, fingers shaking as you push the door- push it open, and wider, and widest, and open.

His face is the very first thing you see. It’s all you can see. All the machines and the hospital bed, all the bandages and the IV’s stuck into his skin- they all fade away. There’s just him and his blonde hair and the way his shoulder’s slope and the defined musculature of his arms. He is real and breathing and solid, and so, so, beautiful. Bakugou’s every breath seems to arrest you, keep you in place and strung tight like a live-wire, electricity running trails of fire through every vein- and his eyes.

His eyes that are darker, deeper, duller- less like raging volcanoes, and more like delicate rubies. They’re red. Red like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and startling and surprising, but it’s not an angry red. Not a violent red. You decide then that Bakugou is a soft, dignified red- he’s hot wax cooling over a sealed envelope, like a slowly healing cut just beginning to fade.

Something in you slots into place. You feel it in your mind, in your bones, in your chest. You’re not itchy anymore, you’re not searching. There is no puzzle left to solve and your finally have all the pieces to your soul; no longer aching anymore for something you knew you should’ve always had. Your skin is finally yours- no longer loose and ill-fitting and stretched thin saving room for someone you hadn’t met yet. You felt right- finally. Settled for the first time in your entire life, like somehow, you’d always knew you’d end up standing exactly where you were.

You think Bakguou must feel it too. He nods something almost imperceptible, but his face softens. He looks so sure- so confident as he looks at you. Like he always expected you to be exactly who you were. Like some part of him too always somehow knew this was going to happen.

You’re tearing up before you can help it, rushing into the room and to his bedside.

“What are ya fuckin’ cryin’ for, idiot?” Bakugou huffs, but his voice comes out strained; buried under thick, barely-restrained emotion. “Nothin’ new left to cry about now, stop it.”

“I can’t,” You’re wiping at tears with your sleeve. “After all this time- my whole life- It’s just- you’re- you’re you. ”

“Course I fuckin’ am.” He says. Bakugou then clears his throat, voice becoming much softer. “Always was to you.”

“I-I know. But it’s just- you’re real.”

He can’t say it back, you can see it in his pinched face and blushing cheeks, but Bakugou nods. You know he feels the same.

“It’s- I- I just didn’t think I’d ever be here,” You start, sinking easily into the chair next to his bed. “And after everything I jus-”

“I’m sorry!” His voice interrupts the relative quiet, cutting through like a knife. He nearly screamed his words, and when you look over at him Bakugou won’t meet your eyes. He’s studying the hospital blankets beneath his fingers, folding and clenching them between fingers gone white from the pressure. “I- I mean that. More than fuckin’ anything.”

“I know.” You say.

The room goes quiet again, and any of the calming completeness you had felt earlier seemed to be fading. Suddenly it’s not just the feeling of finding your soulmate running through you, but the feeling of finding Bakugou. Bakugou who is sitting in front of you, injured and weaker than Dynamite and he doesn’t look like someone who could hurt anything or anyone but then you remember that video- that scream, those eyes.

“Just- fuckin’ say it already. I can see your face, idiot.” Bakugou’s voice is authoritative but not pushy. Inquisitive but not demanding. “It’s- I know your holding back, so just fuckin’ quit it already, alright?.”

“It’s- I just need to know. You said, on the phone, that it wasn’t you, in the video.” You close your eyes. If you look at him any longer you think you’ll lose your nerve. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

“I-” You watch as his face falls, eyebrows pulling together. Then he’s turning red, wringing his fingers together and casting his eyes toward your shoes instead of your face. “Can ya- can I- I just have to think. Give me a second. I have to make sure I get the fuckin’ words right.”

You nod. Bakugou seems to leave you for a moment, eyes un-focusing and fingers twitching minutely. He suddenly looks up, meeting your eyes.

“It’s- I shouldn’ta said that shit. It was- I did that. Me.” He admits, words tight and strained like they’re hard for him to speak. He’s got a hand pressed to his mouth, head turned sharply to face the window. He refuses to meet your eyes once more. “But- I’m not- I’m tryin’ not to fuckin’ be like that anymore! I’m workin’ on it or whatever. Since then! E-ever since then.”

“Okay.” You nod. “What happened to the person? In the video?”

Your question seems to upset him, and he throws his hand harshly against the bed. Bakugou breathes- eyebrows pinched together tightly until his shoulders aren’t held together so tensely anymore.

“I told you. I didn’t- everybody always talks about that fuckin’ stupid-ass video but it was only the camera!” He grits his teeth suddenly, sharply inhaling and exhaling until his jaw relaxes once more. His eyes still remain screwed shut. “I meant that. What I said on the phone. The fuckin’ person was fine! Wasn’t fuckin’ hurt. J-just scared.”

You want to believe him. More than anything you want to believe him, but those eyes you saw were hard to forget. They almost seemed like they belonged to someone else- like they couldn’t possibly have belonged to the same guy who’d called you sunshine and helped you with your anxiety and cleared his schedule every night at exactly 7:00 PM. The Bakugou you had come to know was so far removed from the man in the video- the scary, feral, thoughtless man who seemed to attack someone without just cause.

You closed your eyes for a moment, bringing your hands together in your lap. He said he was trying- he made it very clear that was true with his careful breathing and the way he asked for time to think about his words first. The Bakugou sitting in front of you was not the same man in the video. His eyes weren’t violent erupting volcanoes anymore- they were slowly crystallizing gemstones. Precious, valuable things still slowly changing into something new.

“Okay.” You nod. “I believe you.”

Bakugou cracks open his eyes slowly, looking intensely at you. Something anxious in his eyes melts away, relief filling his features and settling in the barely-there curve of his smile. His shoulders relax and he takes a deep breath and a crackle, a pop and-

“Did you? Was that-” You point at his palms. “Was that your quirk?”

“No! Fuck no, why would you even fuckin’ say that- obviously not, because my quirk is fuckin’ cool not some shitty, embarrassing, tiny-”

“Bakugou.” You interrupt sternly, staring him down. “Honesty, remember?”

He groans, and flushes. His hand crackles again, something small and dancing just across his palm and Bakugou races to cover it. He then wipes his hands on his hospital gown harshly, turning his entire body toward the window to cover the way he’s still blushing. It doesn’t work though. You see him all the same.

“Yes.” He admits, and he just sounds so defeated, it makes you crack a smile. “But don’t fuckin’ say anything, okay? It’s all your fuckin’ fault, damn woman! Started the first time you called me and I can’t get it to fuckin’ stop no matter what I do it’s-”

“Can I see your hand?”

“H-huh?”

“Your hand,” You reach toward him gently. “I wanna see. Give it.”

Bakugou doesn’t look at you, just raises his arm and jabs it out toward you. The movement is stunted and awkward, like he can’t control his limbs right, and when you look at him his entire neck has started going red too. He waves his extended hand impatiently, urging you to get on with it.

Slowly, so very slowly, you poke a single finger into the smooth skin of his wrist. Just a feather-light touch. A near-weightless pressure against soft skin.

Pop.

You poke him again.

Pop.

Suddenly embarrassed, you pull both your hands to cover your eyes and blushing cheeks, and begin giggling uncontrollably.

Pop. Pop. Crackle.

Bakugou moves so brashly that it startles you, and he’s pulling his hand back to him, and curling it into his chest. He’s using his other hand to press into the crackling one, finally smothering the sound of a last few pops sounding off. When you finally peek between your fingers, he’s somehow redder than before.

He’s adorable and you’re laughing and you can’t stop laughing because he’s shy and embarrassed and so defenseless against you. Every part of you is warm from the top of your head to the burning tips of your toes, your smile spreading so wide that it over takes your entire face.

“It’s-it’s not fuckin’ funny!” Bakugou shouts. “Stop goddamn laughing, you shitty fuckin’ woman! It’s a good quirk! It’s not fuckin’ funny!”

“It is.” You agree, gasping to catch your breath. “It’s a very good quirk Bakug-.”

“K-Katsuki!” He shouts suddenly, interrupting you entirely. He seems surprised at his own outburst, blushing again and smacking his hand against his forehead. He groans. Loudly. “It’s- I- Katsuki. That’s my name.”

“O-oh. Okay.” You say shakily, heart beginning to race once more. “K-Katsuki, huh?”

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Bakugou screams. Just howls something deep and defeated and animalistic from the bottom of his chest. It fills the room, seemingly taking up all the space, and you could’ve sworn the windows were rattling. You start laughing.

“Fuck! Oh my god! You fucking did this to me, shitty woman! You- you’re- stop fucking laughing!” Bakugou is screaming, arms gesturing wildly. “This isn’t fucking funny! Something is seriously fucking wrong with me! A-and and you don’t even fucking care! You just think it’s funny! I’m fuckin’ broken, fuckin’ suffering, and you’re laughing!”

“It’s- I’m not!” You shakily defend, barely able to complete the words.

“See now you’re just fuckin’ lyin to me! Goddamn fuckin’ liar for a soulmate!” He’s yelling, hot air and fire and irritation seeping from his lips. “You know, it’s just my fuckin’ luck too, you know! To end up with such a fuckin’ idiot for a soulmate! Who just fuckin’ keeps laughin’ and lookin’ cute an-”

Bakugou screeches. He throws his hands down on the bed, palm up, full-on miniature explosions beginning to spout from his fingertips.

“What the fuck did you do to me? What the fuck- I-I didn’t say that! You didn’t hear anything! Would you quit fuckin’ laughing at me?”

You just hold your palm up, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Bakugou stares at it, burning holes so intensely and brazenly, so utterly focused and enraged that it sends you into further hysterics. It takes you a good five minutes to sober up.

“It’s- I’m not. I’m not laughing at you.” You lean forward in your seat, just a little bit closer to the guardrail of the hospital bed. “You just- you make me happy ‘sall.”

Bakugou gags. Audibly. The sound rips from his chest and up his throat and contorts his face.

“Don’t just fuckin’ say that!”

“What the hell?” You ask incredulously, hands flying wildly. “You literally told me you like me over the phone! Literally yesterday! But now you’ve got a whole ass problem with me saying that you make me happy? What the fuck, angry man?!”

“It’s- I didn’t- fuck!” He shouts, voice raising to cover yours. “Stop makin’ me remember all this embarrassing shit! You’re doing this on fuckin’ purpose! I know you are, shitty woman!”

“I wouldn’t make you remember it so much it you just fuckin’ owned up to it in the first place, you coward!” You screeched. “If you already said it, and I said I like you, then what’s the big fuckin’ deal, huh?”

Bakugou suddenly goes quiet, his hands fidgeting with the sheets. He chuckles. “You said you like me. Again. Fuckin’ dork.”

“Oh my god! You’re fucking infuriating! No-no don’t just sit there and fucking grin at me! That’s- stop!”

And truly, you meant it. You wanted him to stop looking at you like that, stop crinkling up his eyes, and most of all stop smiling because you didn’t think your heart could handle it. Everything about him made your blood boil, and every nerve stand straight on end- but it was good too. So warm and comforting and just funny.

He was Bakugou and Dynamite and your Soulmate. All in one, awkward, crackling, loud fucking package.

-//--

ee hav sum fluff ,, as a ~reward~

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x self insert #bakugou fic #bakugou series #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha soulmate au #soulmate au #bakugou imagine

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bloodorangesoup · 3 years

Text

Work Song | B.B.

Request: Have you ever heard work song by hozier? It gives me such bucky vibes 🥺 like imagine him waking up from a nightmare & singing it to calm him down

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.05k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away lol)

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, bad singing (unless you can actually sing), Bucky being a big softy

My Masterlist

Notes: Anon you need to name yourself cause you obviously have good taste in music and I kinda want some moots on here. This song is so perfect for Bucky. I truly appreciate the suggestion, it gives me inspiration of what to write while procrastinating on works in progress <3

You were awoken when the sheets and comforter were yanked off of you, shocking you awake with the chill of the night air. You squinted your eyes open only to be faced with Bucky’s back as he was sat up in bed. You could see by the rhythmic curling of his spine that he was breathing fast and heavy, prompting you to sit up with him.

“Baby,” you groaned as you stretched your back and faced him, “you alright?”

His eyes stared forward, expressionless, until he snapped out of it and looked at you with a worried face. It was almost as if Bucky hadn’t even noticed you had sat up until he heard your voice. You wanted to kiss in between his eyebrows to smooth the lines that the furrow of them had formed. You leaned towards him and laid your hand on his back, feeling the expansion and deflation of his breathing, it had calmed a bit but you could feel the still rapid beating of his heart. He opened his mouth for a second, hesitating before releasing a breath and answering.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Sorry I woke you up. There's still a couple hours left before you have to get up, lay back down.” He said, motioning with his head towards your pillow. You simply shook your head and dragged your hand from his back up to his neck and around to his cheek. He leaned his head into your cupped palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your touch gave him.

“Can we cuddle then?” You asked, more for him than you. It was an unspoken declaration in the air of “you’re a terrible liar,” but by now in your relationship, Bucky knew that if he wanted to talk about his nightmares, you were always there and ready to listen. If he didn’t want to talk then you could at least try to get him back to sleep or calm his nerves.

He answered you with a nod. You grabbed his pillow and stacked it on top of your own, giving you a cushion to comfortably lay down with your back slightly elevated. He understood what to do and without hesitation crawled over to you and wrapped his arms around your torso, laying halfway on top of you and resting his cheek on the top of your breast, right over your heart. Both your bodies shifted a few times until they found the perfect interlock with each other, sinking down into the bed.

“Do you remember that song I showed you the other day, the one you said you really liked?” You didn’t know where you were trying to go with this conversation, but you figured that getting him sleepy again would be hard, so talking about whatever came to your head might help put him down. Bucky could feel the vibrations of your voice all throughout your chest. He wished in that moment that the two of you could stay like this forever, that he could feel your sweet voice like this for the rest of his life.

“The “take me to church” one?”

“Yeah, that one. The dude who sings that has another song I really love, it makes me think of you whenever I hear it.”

“What’s it called?” He mumbled weakly. You gave him a squeeze and continued.

“Work Song.”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed against your chest, waiting a moment before speaking, “could you sing it for me, doll?”

“If you want, but I can’t promise it’ll sound pretty,” you answered with a breathy chuckle. You wanted to comfort Bucky, but you definitely weren’t a singer. It was difficult enough to be in tune with songs, you weren’t sure you could even manage with half his body resting on you.

“It doesn’t have to sound pretty, if you sing it it’ll be perfect. Please?”

It took Bucky a long time to be okay with asking for things and accepting that receiving favors didn’t equate to weakness. You knew that him asking you to do this for him was hard and you weren’t going to let him down.

“Alright.” You cleared your throat and breathed in before exhaling quickly, cutting the words out of your mouth as your brain tried to think of how the song goes.

“Well, it starts with a low piano note and this soft clap, and there's a harmony that goes ‘hmmm, hmm mmm’ and then another clap and ‘hmm mmm’,” you explained, emphasizing every clap with a light tap if your hand on his back. You looked down at him and lifted your other hand, weaving yo fingers through his hair to gently move back and forth over his scalp. You looked back up to the ceiling with your eyes open, imagining how the stars would look if the roof was gone.

“And that part goes on for a bit…” you said into the silence of the room. As you explained, Bucky had shifted his head to rest the underside of his chin flush against your chest and looked up at you. Due to the way your face looked up he couldn’t see it completely, but he could see how the light of the moon pouring into the room cast a glow across your cheekbones and jaw. He watched as you fumbled through the intro, trying to explain to him how the different sounds come together, and he swore you had never looked more beautiful.

He drank in the way the hums of the song rattled under his chin, how you would pause for a few moments trying to think of what came next in the song. He felt your heartbeat against his throat and the rise and fall of your chest with every breath you would take before letting out another hum. He was right, you could be singing any song and it would be perfect.

“And then he starts singing, he goes,” you took in a breath before singing.

“‘Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat’

“‘There's nothin' sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me’.”

He noted how the corners of your mouth tilted upward at that last line. You weren’t singing it exactly as the song went, the melody was a bit off and the pitch was much lower than it was supposed to be, but Bucky felt like every word you sang floated out into the world, carrying its refreshing life and coolness into his soul.

“And then there's this really deep bass note that hits and then the chorus goes,

“‘When, my, time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her’.”

Bucky thought of how he always seemed to crawl back to you. For once, he didn’t feel guilty for his presence in your life. He relished in the feeling of having you under him, in the knowledge that of all the people in the world, you would let him crawl home to you. If he had to crawl to someone, he would thank any and all higher powers that it was you.

“And then the song gets lighters and the hums come back,” you mumbled.

“‘Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Nothin' in her room but an empty crib’

“‘And I was burning up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear, I thought I dreamed her

She never asked me once about the wrong I did’.”

Memories swirled around in Bucky’s head of all the times he felt like ending it all. He knew he was perfectly capable of doing it, but there was always a stubborn sliver of hope splintered in his head that prevented him from going through with anything. He didn’t like to think back to those times, but hearing the words leave your lips made it clear to him that you were the sliver of hope, some force of the universe had kept him around long enough to reach you and hold on. He closed his eyes and listened as you gently worked through the chorus twice more.

“‘My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me’.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he thought of how unconditionally you cared for him. You weren’t blind to the troubles that came with loving someone like him, with accepting what he did and offering him sanctuary from himself. He didn’t know if he would ever be sure of the idea that he deserved love, but he was okay with being selfish if it meant having you by his side.

“‘When I was kissin' on my baby

And she'd put her love down, soft and sweet

In the low lamp light, I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me’.”

Tears had started to well in Bucky’s eyes. He looked up once again at your face, delicately bathed in moonlight, and thought of how he looked in the light, how you both looked together in the light. If you looked so beautiful and lovely, maybe he could too. He didn't feel exposed or ugly, he felt safe, he felt free. He was overwhelmed with emotion. His heart was pounding and he was choked up, he had never felt as completely and dramatically in love with you as he did in that moment.

You wrapped up the song, carrying it out with the same hums and claps that brought it in. Looking down, you saw Bucky’s face buried in the space between your breasts and could hear a sharp intake of breath, indicating that he was crying. You ran your hand that had been tapping his back up and down his spine. You took your hand from his hair and used it to push his disheveled hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, causing him to look up at you.

To Bucky, you looked like an angel. You both laid in silence, looking into each other's eyes, while Bucky simply hugged you closer and let his tears fall freely. You leaned down and placed a few gentle kisses on his forehead. He finally settled his breathing and sniffled a few times before speaking, he was ready to talk.

“I’ve killed enough people,” he sniffled before continuing, his voice croaky, “I’ve killed enough people to give me nightmares for the rest of my life.” He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling too shameful to keep looking at you.

You sank down lower in the sheets and tightened your hold on him, bringing his face and body up and closer to you.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I wish there was more I could do.” You finally let go of the few tears building in your eyes, letting them roll down your cheeks to the corner of your lips.

“You’re here. You love me. That’s all I need,” he let out with a sob. You nodded your head and tugged on his body, signaling to him to come up.

He shifted himself higher in the bed, his face coming parallel to yours. You snaked your hand around his neck and craned him to look into your eyes. You observed the glassiness of them and how it accentuated the bright blueness within them. You thought of how, even when he was sobbing, he looked more beautiful than ever.

“I love you so much, y/n” he whispered with shaky breaths.

“I love you too, Buck, more than anything.”

You pulled him completely into you, your swollen lips gliding against one another, mixing your salty tears. You brought your hands to the sides of his face, rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, feeling how beautiful he was even with your eyes closed. You both pulled back slowly, only far enough to rest your foreheads together.

“I love you.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Spotify

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

But What If, Instead

Decided to give a go to posting my horribly named but hopefully very fun Beetlejuice fic to tumblr as well. This is an au where BJ is adopted by the Deetz family at a young age.

He’s twelve when he’s left on his own in the upperworld.

He doesn’t know he’s twelve, because he’s never celebrated a birthday, but that timeline seems to fit, later, when he thinks back on it. So he’s twelve. His mother has promised him a special treat that day, and though he’s skeptical to trust her, he follows her quietly through the door she’s drawn, the bone white stick of chalk a blaring contrast to the dark hallways of the netherworld reception office. She’d knocked, and the drawing was more than a drawing, suddenly, with white light and noise spilling through into his little corner of hell as it opened, and when he steps through, Betelgeuse sees blue skies and green grass for the first time in his unlife. He’d turned back to look at Juno, confused, curious, his big orange snake eyes watching her, waiting for the catch, for her to yank him back and punish him for being naive, and trusting her, but all the demoness had done was billow smoke from her slit throat, and nod encouragingly to him. He takes another step, and another and another, and suddenly he’s running and laughing and jumping and the air up here is different, but good, and he takes breaths he doesn't need because it feels nice, and he turns to her again to try and entice her to play with him- And the door is gone. He stands there, staring at the nothingness where she and it had been, and realization hits him hard, because he’s twelve, and he’s been left on his own.

He doesn't cry, both because he can’t, and because he knows it won’t change anything. It doesn’t take him long to find them. Pre ghosts. Breathers. Humans. The place is lousy with them, and the smell of them irritates his sensitive nose. He’s a dumb kid, sure, but he’s got some survival instincts, so he hides from them as they go about their lives, strolling around this place, completely oblivious to the little demon now crashing their dimension. Breathers look so weird, all flushed with blood and bright eyed and hearts beating, no signs of death or rot or decay on them. It’s a lot to ask a kid to get used to. The ghosts back home, the ones workin in Ma’s office, tell him stories about the world up here, sometimes, usually in exchange for him going away, and leaving them the hell alone. (Their words) If there was one thing he learned from them, it was that humans, living or dead, didn’t like things that were strange or unusual. He wanders the wilds of wherever he is for an hour before he finds a body of water, and stooping to peer into it, takes a look at himself.

His skin is pale, but not pink. The undercolor is purple, maybe, which he would have thought would be close enough, but compared to the living, breathing people walking around this place, he knows is too different. There’s not much he can do about that. His hair is a bushy mess, sticking up all over the place, but at least the color is currently green. It’s the eyes, teeth, and ears that really stand out. Yellow snake-like slits stare back at him, long pointed ears flick in the direction of distant sounds, and when he tries to smile down at his reflection, those too many too sharp teeth are all he can see. He’s not the best at magic, yet, mostly using it to play pranks around the office (and hey, maybe that’s why Ma left him here in the first place?) but he does what he can. He throws a glamour over himself, and it’s far from perfect, but the three big problems are taken care of. He looks more human than he did a minute ago, at least, and that’s something.

He’s less afraid to take the main paths, after that, and with that worry out of the way, he finds himself enjoying the afternoon again. So, ma left him here. So what? She’s done him a favor, probably the first she’s ever done anybody, because now he doesn't have to be around her just as much as she doesn’t have to be around him. It’s a win-win, Betelgeuse thinks stubbornly, trotting along the winding pathways lined with benches and garbage cans and other silly human things. He’s starting to get a bit tired of all the green when he reaches, quite unexpectedly, the end of it. There’s a big arched sign, and he can’t understand the language written over head, even though he’s squinting and tilting his head. Someone at some point had sat him down and tried to teach him letters, and he’d gotten far enough to read through the first page of the Handbook, but then that person had been reassigned, and was gone, and no one had cared to keep teaching him.

He’s holding his hands up at his sides, rubbing his red tipped claws against the palms of his hands, top teeth biting over his bottom lip, head tilted to one side in an extreme, when he hears a snort and then a soft giggle.

There’s a woman standing in front of him. Her hair is a sunny yellow color, but her clothing is dark and dramatic, and there are roosting bats dangling from her ears. She’s laughing at him. They stare at each other for a long moment, her hand raised in front of her mouth, her eyes crinkled pleasantly at the corners, and he finally breaks the silence by pointing at the sign, and speaking. “Wazzat say?” She blinks in surprise at his grating little voice, and then glances back at the sign. “Krap Lartnec,” she tells him. “Which is flipped around and backwards for “Central Park.” He’s been staring at the sign the wrong way. Of course. He feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “Oh. Got it. Park. Right, yeah.” She lets out another laugh, and it’s so different from the sounds his mother makes when she’s guffawing at him, shaming him, that it almost doesn’t register as a laugh at first. There’s no cruelty to it, just amusement, and maybe curiosity. “Are you here alone?” she asks him, and he shrugs easily. “I guess.” She moves closer to him, cautiously, like he’s going to bite her, or bolt, but he doesn’t really feel the need to be worried over one breather. He knows he could rip out her throat if he needs to. The glamour only hides his demonic features, not takes them away. He’s still plenty capable of taking care of himself. “Where are your parents?” She's crouched down next to him now, one knee on the pavement, big brown eyes all sweet and worried, and he shrugs again. “Don’t have a dad. Mom’s downstairs.” She squints at that, and he gestures down with a pointed red claw tip. “Ya know. Downstairs.” The way he emphasizes it is meaningful, and when her eyes show understanding, he assumes she gets it. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be. I’m havin’ a good time.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she expects, but she just nods thoughtfully. “Are you staying someplace?” He can’t, for the undeath of him, figure out why she’s asking, and why she cares. He shrugs again, because things feel better in threes, and says vaguely, “I guess I’m stayin’ here.” That also doesn’t seem to be a good answer. “You can’t stay in the park overnight. There’s creeps around here.” He bites back the urge to explain that he’s the creepiest thing here, because suddenly she’s taking his hand, and she feels cool to the touch. “Good god, kiddo, you’re burning up!” she puts her other hand on his forehead, all the play gone from her voice, clearly concerned. “You might have a fever. Listen…” she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, smudging the dark color there, before she makes a decision. “Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll give you something to eat, make sure you’re alright, and we’ll figure out what to do from there, okay?” He isn’t sick, and he’s pretty sure he can’t get sick. It’s the hellfire in his veins that makes him hot, because he’s not like her, not even close, but the idea of following her seems like a fine one to him, so he just nods. “Kay. You got bugs where you live?” She snorts again, and stands, brushing off her dark, rose patterned tights. “Sure, what New York apartment doesn’t have a few roaches lurking around. You like bugs?” “Yeah, I like em. They’re crunchy an’ they skitter around an’ stuff.” “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding thoughtfully. “Bugs kick ass.” It’s his turn to snort, and then laugh, because she’d sounded so serious that it strikes him as funny. His hand is still in her’s, and she gives it a squeeze. “What’s your name, little buddy?” “Betelguese.” He expects a pause, or a comment, because no newly dead has ever heard his name without wrinkling their nose and looking vaguely sick, but her smile just grows wider. “Far out. I’m Emily.” And hand in hand, they leave the park.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Beetlejuice decides quickly Emily might be the nicest breather who ever breathed. It’s a decision he makes only moments after they’ve left the park. Normally he’d be talking, and talking a lot, and his ma might throw something at him, a curse or a bottle, to try and shut him up. So he’s giving silence a try, here, even though it feels like it hangs like a weight around his neck. But Emily is the one instead filling the silence with sound, and he’s never had such unfiltered attention from an adult before. She’s talking about the park, then his hair, then his name, and everything she says is just… sunshine. She likes his hair. She likes his name. She even likes the loose fitting and filthy black and white striped shirt he’s got on, she says it’s deadlyvoo, whatever the hell that means, but it must be good, because Emily said it.

They’re walking down the street, his little hand still in her’s, when a smell hits his sensitive nose. It’s unlike anything he’s ever smelled before and if he wasn't tethered to her, he would have floated after it. As it is, he does feel his feet lift off the ground briefly, and he has to remind his body to obey gravity, before someone notices. Luckily, Emily only sees part of his reaction, namely the way he’s sniffing the air like a dog and drooling. “Hotdogs!” she grins, and she leads him over towards the smell before he can even ask what that word means.

There’s a little cart set up, and a short, fat woman is fussing over a fire. He quickly finds the source of the smell, those little weird shapes of meat she’s turning over, and he goes to reach for one, only stopped by Emily’s other hand over his. “Not so fast, little bug. To unlock lunch, you need the power of capitalism.” She nods gravely. He nods back, clueless, but after a moment he has the source of the smell in his hands, and he wastes no time in scarfing it down. It’s good. He wants more, instantly, and tugs at her sleeve. Emily has hardly put her wallet away before it’s back out again, and she’s bought two more hotdogs. He eats them just as quickly, but before he can ask for more he realizes she’s led him away from the woman and her meats and her fire. Clever breather.

The walk to her home isn’t so bad, and it gives him time to take in his surroundings. The park had been jarring enough- what little plants grow in the netherworld are perpetually gray and withered, sad little scraggly weeds that struggle and choke each other out for the privilege of what miniscule sunshine permeates through the perpetual overcast. But there’s enough sunlight and water and everything to go around here, and it all grows green and vibrant. The city feels the same way, sort of. Like there’s plenty of space to stretch out and grow, and so they did. In the netherworld, everything is short and cramped, but bigger on the inside, with long, winding hallways meant to confuse and trap the dead. The buildings here are so tall looking up at them makes him dizzy, but he hardly has time to admire them before Emily is guiding him this way and that, and finally, to another door. She presses a button and they’re let inside, and he experiences another first as they ride the elevator up a few floors.

They ride the first few floors up in relative silence, until - “Get ready to jump!” Emily says suddenly, crouching, and he follows her lead, and jumps when she does. There’s a brief moment of weightlessness before gravity catches up with them, and their feet hit the elevator floor again, in time for the doors to open. “Good job, Beetlejuice!” she praises, pushing that long sun colored hair out of her face, and he beams up at her. “Feels like flyin, kinda!” “Right?” she enthuses loudly, and he’s about to ask her how a breather knows what flying feels like, but a door down the hall opens, and the biggest man Betelguese has ever seen steps out. “Thought I heard you rattling the elevator,” he’s chiding Emily, who only gives her snort and smile in return. “Lydia isn’t even with you, do you really play that game when you’re-” his eyes fall on Betelgeuse. “Alone?”

“Charles, I made a new friend!” Emily tells him simply, leading the little demon into their apartment. The interior is dim, but he can see fine. He knows his amber eyes are glowing a little in the gloom, and he closes them, just for a moment, as Emily leads him down the hall and into a sunny, well lit kitchen. The big man, Charles, is tailing behind, looking mystified. “Where on earth did you find him?” a hint of nerves creeps into the breather’s voice. “You didn’t… steal him.. Right?” “Charles!” Emily laughs, like it’s an absurd question. Betelgeuse can’t tell if it is or not. Emily doesn’t seem like a child snatching witch, but he doesn’t know enough about such things to be sure. “I didn’t steal him,” she clarifies, busying herself with getting the boy a cup of ice water, and stopping by for a moment to touch the back of her hand to his forehead again. “I found him wandering around Central Park. He said he doesn’t have any folks, and he was all alone, and he feels feverish. I’m being responsible! I’m a responsible adult!” “A responsible adult who still plays the elevator game, despite being told by maintenance you might throw the whole elevator out of whack?” Charles askes, but he doesn’t look angry, more amused.

“I was teaching Beetlejuice how to play.” The pause he was expecting with Emily finds its home with Charles. Charles glances at the boy. Betelguese stares back with big amber eyes, sipping quietly at his ice water. Charles looks to Emily, who seems to be waiting expectantly. The silence stretches for another beat before Charles asks, baffled, “Is that… his name?”

Emily throws her hands up like he’s asked if the sky is really blue. “Of course it’s his name! Or at least, that’s the name he gave me. I’m respecting it. Respectful and responsible, that’s me.” She turns and winks at Betelgeuse. He returns the strange breather gesture because he likes Emily more than he’s ever liked anyone before.

The water cup is empty, and he simply lets it go, no longer interested in holding it. It bounces and rolls across the floor, and Charles wrinkles his brow at the boy. “Wh-” Before he can say much more, Betelgeuse is sniffing at the air, and he crouches on all fours, nose to the ground, like a dog in a cartoon. He’s caught the scent of some kind of upperworld bug, and despite all the hotted dogs, he’s still hungry. He’s on the prowl around the kitchen, weaving under the little dining table and three chairs, and then back down the hall, into the living room. Charles and Emily poke their heads out of the kitchen to watch him.

“I think you brought a feral child into the house, Em.”

She makes a psshaw sound and rolls her eyes, smacking gently at his lapels. “He’s a kid. Kids are weird. I was doing weird kid stuff when I was his age, too.” “And you never stopped,” comes the dry response. “Charles, I know you worry, but he’s a little kid, lost in New York. I mean, my god, it’s like a movie! I couldn’t just leave him, and I wasn’t just going to give him to some cop, he’s probably an undocumented runaway or something-” and the rest of her rambling is drown out by Charles gasping and grabbing her, and her own muffled gasps of shock, because Betelgeuse has caught the bug. And also, he’s on the ceiling. He may have been trying to blend in, but the second he caught the scent of that delicious crunchy upperworld bug meat, everything else was out of mind. He’d spotted it on the ceiling, and had followed it up there, ignoring gravity to get what he wanted, and right as he pounced on it, nearly catlike, Charles and Emily had gasped. Their breather noises distract him long enough for the bug to skitter away, and he loses his concentration, and drops to the living room floor with a sickening crunch. Emily shrieks, and Charles panics, sprinting for the boy, certain he’ll find a dead child with a broken neck. Instead Betelguise sits up, his glamour disturbed from the fall, and the breathers get an eyeful of what he really looks like. There’s a beat. They’re all staring at each other for a long moment. “I… I might have brought a feral child into the house,” Emily admits sheepishly. You can read the entire thing, right now, over here

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice fic #emily deetz #charles deetz #lydia deetz #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice found family

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infinitebells · 3 years

Text

love me harder (a. miya)

angst because i felt like it.

“how long are ya gonna to keep this up?” osamu’s voice pulls you out of your own twisted reverie, and your head lazily turns to the side to face him. he knows the smile on your face is fake. he’s seen it a hundred times before, and he’ll see it a hundred times again.

“i don’t know what you’re taking about ‘samu,” you say quietly, shifting your focus back to the sight in front of you. you and osamu were seated on the bleachers in msby’s home stadium, watching the jackals celebrate their division victory. you could see bokuto and hinata jumping up and down with bright smiles plastered across their faces out of the corner of your eye, but only one person has your full attention. well, two.

miya atsumu stands with his arms around your best friend, one hand resting gently on the back of her neck as he presses a soft kiss to her forehead before swooping down to kiss her, opened mouth with a wide smile.

“ya know damn well what i’m talking about,” he murmurs. his voice is softer this time. he knows that being harsh with you won’t bring him anywhere.

“do you think he ever knew?” you turn away from the stomach churning sight to stare at osamu. you always admired how expressive his eyes were, even if his face remained impassive. it was one of the few things, besides their looks, that the mkay twins had in common. and right now, they swirled with pity. you can’t tell if it comforts or disgusts you.

he sighs, a hand running through the messy gray locks atop his head before standing up and holding a hand out to you.

“i’m not sure even you know the extent of your own feelings.”

———

you keep pace with osamu as you two go to the exit for the locker rooms, sitting down on a bench opposite of the door. his hand is on your head, fingers sifting through the strands as a motion of comfort. it’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing the love of your life’s twin is a better person to you than he’ll ever be.

“‘m sorry,” he says after a beat of silence.

“what for?” you turn in his grasp, palm still pressed flat against your head. your heart twists painfully as he smiles that fake smile that you know because it’s the same one you wear when you talk about atsumu.

“that he’s never loved ya the way ya deserve,” he whispers. it’s quiet in the still hallway, but you hear every word nonetheless. the shattering of your heart is muffled when you hear the telltale creak of the door swinging open. the giggles are what you register first, then the two red faces of atsumu and his fiancée. you’d be damned if you didn’t notice the smattering of red and purples bruises that matched across their necks.

“hey guys! thanks for waiting!” atsumu calls out cheerfully, walking over to you and osamu. his hand is tucked tightly against your friend’s, and osamu’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles across your scalp. he doesn’t need to be holding your hand to see how tightly you’re gripping the cold metal of the bench.

“ya’d complain fer days if we didn’t,” osamu scolds, standing up and grabbing your wrist to help you up as well. you’re scarily aware of the fact that every single one of them, your friend included, has at least a few inches on you.

“not true!” atsumu whines, and his fiancée turns to him and smacks the back of his head with her free hand lightly.

“stop whining and be appreciative that they’re here,” she says, before leaning forward to give you a one armed hug.

“it’s so good to see you! i feel like we haven’t talked in ages,” she gushes before pulling away. her hand never left atsumu’s. yours have stayed still at your sides, osamu’s hand still grasping your wrist tightly. you force a smile onto your face, pleased to see that neither her nor atsumu can see behind the mask.

“yeah, sorry, work has really been picking up lately with the end of the quarter coming up,” you explain.

“yeah but we’re yer best friends! ya gotta make time for us somehow,” atsumu pipes in. you’re grateful for the way osamu slides his hand to hold your own. it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

“i’m trying,” you say, and your smiles fades a bit. so does atsumu’s.

“well then try harder. ya can’t just go mia until the wedding y’know,” he protests, and osamu clears his throat before speaking again.

“ya can’t hound on someone for workin’ when all yer doin’ these days is volleyball shit,” he says, and you’re thankful that he’s diverted the attention away from you.

“it’s not shit ya asshole! it’s perfection,” he argues, and even you can’t help the small giggle that falls from your mouth. as painful as this is, atsumu never failed at making you smile.

“whatever ya say ya scrub,” osamu says, pushing atsumu’s shoulder with his free hand.

“alright moving on, what’s the plan?” your friend speaks up again, and you’re dreading what happens next.

“dinner at samu’s place!” atsumu says, nudging osamu before speaking again, “because he can bring onigiri!”

“you just talk to me for free food,” osamu deadpans, and atsumu scoffs.

“i do not!”

“do too.”

———

dinner is as expected. hopelessly dreary on your end, mixed with fake smiles and fake laughs. you’re beginning to wonder if this is what your life will be like from now on.

“alright! i have to go home early for my presentation tomorrow so i’ll see you at home baby,” your friend says, leaning down to kiss atsumu’s cheek before turning towards you. “text me this week, we need to have lunch ok?” you nod with a smile, watching as she steps out of the apartment. now it’s just you and atsumu, osamu having run off to the bathroom.

“i feel like we haven’t talked in ages!” he groans, shifting on the couch so that he’s fully facing you. you equally dread yet love the attention.

“sorry, just busy with work and all that,” you say, the smile coming easier this time.

“maybe ya should spend less time at work and spend more time tryin’ to find yerself a boyfriend!” he announces cheerily.

“easier said than done ‘tsumu,” you say, scared he’ll hear the way your voice trembles slightly.

“what’s that supposed ta mean?” of course he can tell when you’re upset. perks of knowing you since high school.

“not really into anyone who’s available right now,” you say loftily, praying to every god in existence that he’ll drop the subject.

“that’s available? ya tryin’ ta say ya got yer eye on someone who’s not?” he scoots closer, grabbing your chin and manually turning your head towards his. the little to no space between you two scares you so much that you can’t help the way you jump back, desperate to get away from him. you’re terrified if you’re that close again then you’ll do something you’ll 100% regret. his eyes widen at your own wide eyes and the look of terror across your face.

“don’t, please,” your voice is shaking now, and he scoots closer again to try and comfort you. you respond by pressing yourself into the arm of the couch as much as you can. you feel like there’s too much space yet not enough between the two of you.

“what’s wrong? did i do something?” his concerned look and worried expression is heartbreaking because you know none of this is his fault, yet you can’t help but be angry at him.

“i figured you’d know after all these years. turns out ‘samu is right though. you really don’t know,” you say, mirthful. his face twists up in confusion.

“what? what don’t i know?” he thankfully stays on his side of the couch this time.

“nothing, it’s fine,” you try to play off the words spoken in a moment of weakness, but you know he won’t accept that.

“it’s not fine because you’re on the verge of tears right now,”

“i already said it’s nothing atsumu, please accept that,”

“no because it’s not nothing!”

“atsumu ple-“

“ITS NOT FUCKING NOTHING WHEN YOU’RE CRYING LIKE THAT!”

“atsumu enough!” osamu’s voice is what shakes you from your state of emotional hell, and you nearly choke on a sob.

“do you know why?” he turns to face his brother. apprehension is painted across osamu’s face.

“it’d be better if you didn’t hear it from me,” he says carefully.

“bullshit just someone tell me what goi-“

“i’m in love with you, you selfish prick!” you sob, the tears falling freely now. it feels as though a dam has broken, and everything you’ve been holding back for years is finally washing across you, painting you in an ugly gray of pure depression. atsumu turns slowly to face you, and you take note of how his eyes are suddenly not as expressive as his brother’s are.

“what?” his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard.

“i’m not repeating myself because i know you heard. and i’m tired of having to fake everything that comes out of my mouth around you. so this is me baring all of myself because i can’t keep doing this,” you sob out, and you take note of the fact that osamu is conveniently no longer in the living room. “just tell me if you’ve ever felt the same, or even known, because i need some peace of mind,” you please. his silence is all the answer you need. he watches with empty eyes as you stand up, slipping into your shoes.

“please don’t expect me to be at the wedding. i know i’m friends with you both but i can’t take that kind of pain,” you say, tear tracks shining in the low light. for the first time in months, your bittersweet smile doesn’t feel so fake. he scrambled off the couch at that, running to you and grabbing your hand harshly. that’s when you see the unshed shine of tears pooling in his lower lash.

“n-no, ya can’t just not come, w-we’re like family,” his voice is trembling, but it doesn’t come close to how hard your hands are shaking in his own.

“that’s why i can’t come. because i’ll always be family to you,” you say softly before slipping out of his grasp and into the hallway. osamu’s apartment door closes with a soft thud behind you. as you walk to the elevators, you’re keenly aware of how numb everything feels.

———

five months later you’re scrolling through facebook, legs propped up on osamu’s. the pictures from atsumu’s wedding are plastered all across the app, and his smile has never looked brighter before.

you tap the like button without thinking, before shutting your phone off and closing your eyes. your head leans back into the arm of the couch, and the ache in your heart throbs in time with your heartbeat.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader

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dirtyoatmeall · 3 years

Text

Good for you

A/N: Wow sorry I've been gone!! I suddenly got back into reading and suddenly found myself in the middle of multiple series! anywayz, I finally listened to Olivia Rodrigo's new album so here is a songfic for good for u. I ended up going in a completely different direction than I had in mind. It's also long as fuck. I proof scanned it, but it's like 18 pages, as always sorry for the incorrect grammar, I do what I want. Call me Maybe will be getting one soon as well :)

Pairing: ex!Kageyama x reader, foreshadowed Atsumu x reader

Genre: angst? hurt/comfort? Its sad for pretty much most of it.

Word Count: 10.3k (im so sorry)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking, implied adult themes, all characters are 21+ !!, detailed breakup. 16+ only por favor

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily. You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks.

Your phone chimed, alerting you of a new text, you reached for it on the side table, pausing the movie you were watching. It was a message from Shoyo and an image: ‘I’m sorry, I figured it’d be better if I told you instead of finding out on Twitter.’ Your brow pinched, what could that mean? You unlocked your phone to open the text.

The pinch deepens as you zoom in on the picture, eyes beginning to prickle with tears. It was a photo- most likely taken by a fan or paparazzi- of Tobio, your boy-, ex-boyfriend. He was with a woman, she seemed slightly familiar, probably a model or something along those lines. Your face heated and shame burned in your chest, the embrace they were in looked so intimate; private, that it seemed wrong to look. You deleted the image and left Shoyo on read for now; you’d reply when you’re in a better headspace.

It had only been a couple of weeks and he had already moved on, meanwhile, you were just starting to not cry at the little reminders of him scattered about your apartment. He hadn’t even come to get his stuff. You sniffle and walk over to the wall to your left; the picture wall- and gently take one of the photos off, smiling faintly at the memory it brings to the surface.

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?

The sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow around the room. Groaning, you squint at the brightness before rolling over. Your eyes find blue ones, startling you slightly. He chuckles softly, voice deep and gravelly with sleep; sending heat through your body. “you’re so jumpy in the morning.” he whispered in the otherwise empty apartment.

You roll your eyes and let him pull you into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his fingers traced lazy shapes into your hip. “Shut up, you know it takes me a day or two to adjust after you’ve been gone.”

You meant for the words to be light; not expecting the emotion you heard behind them. He sighs, arm winding tighter around your waist as he kisses the top of your head. You bring your head up to meet his gaze and shift in his arms, frown tugging on your lips. “’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

He sighs again, shaking his head softly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, I should, for never being home, missing holidays and-“ You put a hand against his lips silencing him, brows drawn tightly together.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for either. I knew what I was getting into when we got together, it didn’t bother me in school and it doesn’t bother me now. I’d much rather you live out your dream than being stuck here with me all the time.” You feel his mouth open to object, but your hand stays firm. “I’m serious Tobio, I mean every word.” He nods against your hand and you release him. You flush slightly at the open emotion in his gaze. He pulls you into a kiss, murmuring against your lips. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you, I promise I’m gonna give you the world.”

And good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself. I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

A few days later you meet Shoyo for lunch, a new onigiri place where he apparently knows the owner. He sighs as he sets down his menu, your eyes snapping back your own, pretending like you’ve been mulling it over this whole time. “Alright, go ahead and ask.”

You look up from your menu, feigning innocence. “Hm? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He rolls his eyes and raises an eyebrow. You hold his gaze for a few moments before your shoulders sag in defeat. Your eyes fall to the table as you pick at the corner of the laminated menu. He gives you a minute to collect your thoughts before he places his hand atop yours, a sad smile gracing his features.

“(Y/N), it’s normal to want to know how he’s doing.” You chew your lip and mumble, “Well he’s obviously doing good since he already moved on.”

He continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “He started going to that therapist you recommended a day or so after,” he pauses, trying to gauge where your mind is. You’re meeting his gaze, and he can see you got what he was implying so he continued. “He’s been going consistently; says it’s really helped him.” You nod, blocking out his next words; too busy thinking about how you’re going to find a new therapist.

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

As you eat, you think over his words. You swallow and take a deep breath, trying to instil confidence in yourself. “Are they… good together?” Your voice comes out softer than intended and you inwardly cringe. He smiles faintly and nods. “They are.” You nod in understanding and turn your focus back to your meal.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me-If you ever cared to ask

You knew it was inevitable, your apartments aren’t that far apart, you just wished it wasn’t so soon.

You were grocery shopping for the week, trying to figure out how many oranges to get before settling on 4 with a sigh, you toss them into your cart, turning around to see blue eyes at the other end.

You inhale sharply, your gazes met and he was too close for you to run away, leaving only one option. You were suddenly glad you met Shoyo for breakfast this morning, you were dressed up a bit, but you weren’t so glad when you became queasy. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, letting it fall shut. You feel your face flush with heat and you duck your head, mumbling a soft “sorry!” and move to continue down the aisle, hoping he’d let you go.

Those hopes were crushed with the hand that gently captured your elbow, halting your escape as he turned you to face him. You were silent for a moment before he realized he was still gripping your elbow, dropping his hand to his side. You crossed your arms around your middle, trying to look- be smaller, small enough to get away. Though the rational side of you knew it wouldn’t happen, that you’ve known each other too long to simply stop. So you raised your gaze, uncurling your arms and bringing your shoulders back to at least look the part of an old friend caught by surprise, smiling as you spoke.

“Oh, Kageyama! I didn’t see you there, how are you?” He cringed ever so slightly at the use of his last name, filling you with a sick sense of pride that weighed uncomfortably in your chest. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a brunette coming up to him, not noticing you as she surveyed the list in her hand.

“Babe, did you find the oranges? Oh, remind me to pick up my birth control at the phar-“ Her eyes widened as she noticed you; cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. Unfazed, Kageyama snorted softly, wrapping an arm around her waist before turning back to you. “This is Yumi, babe, this is (Y-) uh, (L/N).” You smiled and waved, which she mirrored, going to speak but instead was interrupted by you, who had decided to spare all of you of the awkwardness of prolonging the conversation. “It’s nice meeting you Yumi, and it was nice seeing you Kageyama, but I gotta run.”

They nodded and waved in farewell as you continued down the aisle, letting out a deep breath before heading into the next aisle. You needed more alcohol.

Good for you. You're doin' great out there without me, baby. God, I wish that I could do that.

You saw them a few more times during your shopping trip. You had wanted to leave right away, but you had been putting off groceries for too long, and leaving your cabinets and fridge almost barren. Thankfully they were always far enough where if you accidentally made eye contact a smile in passing was warranted enough.

As you contemplated between mini pizzas or a large pizza, you heard a loud giggle from further down the aisle. Your head turned towards the noise instinctively and you saw them at the end, near the ice cream, which you hoped they moved soon because that was next on your list. They were laughing, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him, he had an arm around her, resting on her hip as he met her gaze and you felt your chest tighten and an emotion you definitely did not want to name and wanted to shove down, down far enough to forget it. They looked the part of smitten lovers, and you decided you didn’t need ice cream all that bad and grabbed the mini pizzas before heading to checkout, continuing to ignore the emotion swelling, weighing down your chest and moving up to your throat.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You took a deep, shuddering breath that broke halfway into a gasping sob. The emotion was suffocating, burning in the back of your throat and pulsing against your skull as you hugged your knees to your chest, the cold press of the tub against your back doing nothing. You tried to take a breath again but your chest was too tight, it was constricting your lungs, pushing hot tears down your cheeks and pulsing harder as with the ringing in your ears.

You could faintly comprehend the door to the bathroom opening, but didn’t look up as someone wrapped their arms around you, pulling you to them; the feel of fabric twisting in your grasp somewhat grounding as they smoothed down your hair, their words muffled under the ringing. You couldn’t think about the tears and who knows what else dampened their shirt, couldn’t think of anything except the emotion weighing so heavy in your chest you were positive it was going to break your ribs, break through you and continue down, down, deep underground.

You have no clue how long you were there with them, not even sure how long before they arrived. They shifted their arms to pick you up, and you let them, not even moving your hands from their place on the shirt, you were sure they were glued there, the tears acting as an adhesive. Sobs still racked your frame as you were set down, tucked under the covers of your bed before the person laid next to you, resuming their soothing touches as the weight in your chest slowly lightened, gradually releasing its grip on your lungs as the ringing quieted, allowing you to hear the slew of soothing words softly coming from the person next to you.

But as the emotion lessened its grip on you, tiredness swiftly replaced it, the pounding at your temples only encouraging the darkness to weigh you down, until it settled over you like a blanket, your fingers laxing enough for them to fall back to your side. Your breathing slowed, the occasional hiccup breaking the silence as you slept.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for you

Shoyo let out a deep breath as he gently shut the door to your bedroom behind him, shoulders slumping with exhaustion when he heard the latch click. He dragged a hand down his face, combing his fingers through his hair as he went to your kitchen to finish putting away your groceries, throwing away what was defrosted before collapsing on your couch, pulling out his phone, debating whether or not to text the person likely responsible for your tears. Turns out he didn’t even have to, they had already called him and left a message about an hour ago, a little after Shoyo first got to your apartment. He brought the phone up to his ear as he pressed play.

“Hey, I ran into (Y/N) at the store today, you know I thought you might be right; that our friendship ended with the breakup, but it was like nothing had changed! She even met Yumi though Yumi didn’t notice at first and started talking about her birth control,” a laugh, “I don’t know why you were so worried, she seems perfectly fine. I was thinking about having a little get together in a few weeks, Yumi really wants to meet everyone from Karauno, you both should come! Oh one sec, what? Okay! Sorry, I gotta go, Bye.”

Shoyo slid down the couch slightly, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Really? He was glad you stocked up on alcohol at the store because after hearing that, he needed a drink.

Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want. You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off.

Two weeks later you sat on your couch, eyes focused on the match televised. You tell yourself you’re watching the tournament to see who Shoyo will end up going against; if you can give them any pointers, though a part of you knows it’s a lie.

At the end of the match, the Adlers, no, To- Kageyama, had scored the winning point, securing a spot in the semi-finals. You lifted the remote to change the channel, but you froze as the camera zoomed in on the edge of the court, where you watched Yumi jump into his arms, he threw his head back laughing as he spun her around before kissing her. You could hear the commentators discussing the game after making a cheeky comment but you tuned it out. You watched them walk off the court, snapping out of the trace as soon as the camera cut to the other team. You quickly turned it off. Taking a deep breath in your silent apartment.

You were going through your Instagram feed when you came across a post from Tobio. It was him and Yumi in front of a new car, kissing. You noticed it had multiple pictures, and swiped through, all of them of the couple. The last one was the most recent, earlier today, in fact, you recognized the jersey of the other team in the background. You part of the caption, deciding to scroll past before scrolling back up to read the long paragraph that was pretty much a love letter to Yumi. You bit your lip and liked it, cursing afterwards, you didn’t want him to know you still followed him. You debated unfollowing but decided against it, it’d only look weirder if you had liked a post and weren’t following him. You couldn’t get his expression out of your head, he looked so happy.

It's like we never even happened. Baby, what the fuck is up with that?

Over the next few days you received multiple texts from Kageyama, updates on his family; that they were asking about you, wanting you to visit, an invitation to a small gathering they were having next week, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi and Yachi were in town and he wanted to introduce Yumi to everyone. And several attempts to start a conversation.

You replied to all of them, thanking him for the update, politely declining the invitation; using work as an excuse, and you halfheartedly tried to keep up with the conversations until it got to be too much. It was like nothing happened, like he hadn’t suddenly broken up with you, after almost 7 years together. There were times you wanted to remind him, but decided against it. You didn’t want to be the bitter ex, you wanted to move on, like he had.

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

You think Shoyo had a talk with him.

After it all became too much, the media, the texts, the times he tried to call you, you told Shoyo. He was furious, ignoring your pleas to just leave it be as he left your apartment.

Later that night he came back, less angry and with takeout. When you had asked where he went he just smiled and told you not to worry about it. You watched movies the rest of the night. When you awoke the next morning there were no texts from Kageyama, and nothing on social media. Your nosiness got the best of you and you looked him up, only to furrow your brow as the results came up blank. You checked the other social media you had each other on and couldn’t find him anywhere. You didn’t dare text him, just in case, but it was obvious- he had blocked you, on everything.

There was an emotion curling in your chest, but you couldn’t quite name it. You didn’t know how to feel about it, so you stayed in bed for a few more hours before migrating to the couch. Shoyo didn’t come over that night, and you hated that you were slightly relieved.

Remember when you swore to God I was the only person who ever got you?

You sighed, still slightly out of breath and damp with sweat, snuggling into the body next to you regardless, smile stretching your lips. He tightened his arm around your waist, petting your hair as he shifted onto his side, bringing you closer and tangling your legs together. You wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, softly kissing his throat, right below his adam's apple before resting your face against his collarbone. He shuddered and drew you impossibly closer. “I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I love you (Y/N), so much. I swear sometimes I feel like you’re the only person in the world who understands me. Ugh, that sounded so cliché.” You snorted as he slightly shook with laughter. “I love you too Tobio.” You brought your head up for a tender kiss before the two of you settled into a peaceful slumber.

Well, screw that, and screw you. You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

You awoke the following morning with a hollow ache in your chest, your eyes burned but nothing came. You don’t know if it was good that the tears never came, but the hollowness settled heavily in you, it seemed to be all around you, weighing down the air equally. You were on autopilot the whole day, not fully there.

You blinked at the chime from your phone and raised your brows at the time, and your eyes widened at the name in your notifications. You quickly opened the text and looked at the image 2,3,5 times. It was a selfie, only the top part of Yumi’s face was visible, she must’ve been taking it, having to have it out enough to get Kageyama and all of his family in the frame, everyone smiling brightly. The typing bubble popped up for a few seconds before it disappeared and was replaced by a small message. You read it over and over before biting your lower lip. This is when the tears would normally come, when they’d be expected and yet they didn't. The burn was there, the lump in your throat but nothing else except the hollow pulsed in your chest. You didn’t think that was a good sign.

From Tobio:

We miss you! The kids keep asking when you’re going to come to play again. We love you, and you’re always welcome to visit. -Miwa~

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me if you ever cared to ask

You decided not to tell Shoyo about the picture, after all, it was his sister who sent it. He sent an apology the next day and you quickly dismissed it, asking him to tell her thanks and to tell everyone hello for you and that you hoped they had a great trip.

He unblocked you later that day. You assumed it was because of your text, he probably thought everything was fine now, that little bump in the road passed and things were back to normal again. And you tried, you tried so hard to go back to the person you were before. Fake it ‘till you make it was something you lived by, and you certainly were doing a great job faking it, but the ache in your chest told you that you hadn’t made it yet.

Good for you, You're doin' great out there without me, baby

You always kept up with the volleyball news and media, now for just Shoyo, but it was impossible to not see Adlers updates, and as MSBY’s rival you felt you needed to keep up. They were a force to be reckoned with, win after win; tournament after tournament they were at the top, MSBY one of the few to keep up. You sent him a congratulatory text after his last win, if he didn’t want to leave your friendship then you’ll try your hardest not to either, even if it hurts.

God, I wish that I could do that

Well, that lasted about 2 weeks. It’d been about 2 months since Kageyama broke up with you. You texted occasionally, most of them short conversations. They used to be longer, but you knew that to really get over him, you couldn’t be his best friend like before, you had to distance yourself. Shoyo wanted you to block him, even if just for a few more months, so you can move on quicker, but you disagreed. Your lives were so intertwined it wasn’t possible to not see him or hear about him at least once a week, usually in the form of sports journalism.

You laughed at Tsukishima’s joke, choking on the margarita you were in the middle of drinking, causing the others to laugh at you. Everyone was miraculously in town this week and demanded that you all hang out all week. Yachi stayed at Hinata's apartment since he had a roommate, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi stayed at yours, though everyone decided to congregate at your apartment, the former two falling asleep on your couch and after the third night in a row, you convinced them to just stay. Hinata packed a bag and slept on your futon, Yachi slept in your bed with you, and the last two shared your guest bedroom.

While they all swore it was a mere coincidence everyone was in town, you had a strong theory that Hinata invited everyone down to stay with you, since in 3 days was what would’ve been your 7 year anniversary with Kageyama. They did their best to keep you distracted, going out to clubs, having movie marathons and game nights that lasted until dawn. You were filled with immense gratitude for that, and you made sure to let them know it. You were glad your little group was able to stick together, even if the shadow of the empty seat at the table grows with each passing day.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You almost made it. Everyone stayed in today, keeping a careful eye on you all morning, until you got a call from your mother. Your parents lived in the countryside, they didn’t have great reception out there, even if they did they’d keep the single landline they have now. They called every so often, for holidays or updates on health and family members. The last time you talked to them was about 6 months ago. You head into your bedroom before you answer, a little worried about what might be going on, you knew your father’s health was declining, could something have happened? You took a deep breath and accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear. “Hello? Mom?”

It takes a second before she replies, probably trying to get your father to stand next to her. “(Y/N) sweetie, sorry it’s been so long, it’s been busy down here and since your father can’t do a whole lot anymore, it’s been taking longer to keep the farm in shape.” You can hear your father grumble something in the background and you can imagine your mother rolling her eyes.

“Nevermind that! We were calling to congratulate you and Tobio on your anniversary, that’s today right? 7 years, I hope you know how lucky you are dear, these days relationships just aren’t lasting like they used to, but I’ve always known you two would stick through, I still do. Hopefully one of these days I’ll get a call about a ring? Or maybe some grandbabies?” She giggled on the other end, going on to talk about her and your father’s relationship, not paying attention to if you’ve replied or not, and you haven’t, you’re- you’re- you jolt out of whatever trance you were in to find yourself on your bathroom floor, back against the tub, your mother still chattering away in your ear, though you can’t hear her.

She’s right. Today is- would’ve, been 7 years. A flurry of emotions roars to life in your chest and you feel the familiar burning and grip start to take hold. You clear your throat, interrupting her story.

“Uh mom, me and Tobio aren’t together anymore. I’m sorry, I meant to call earlier, but there’s a lot going on. I actually have to go, I promise I’ll call later okay? I might be able to get away from work in a few weeks to visit. Love you.”

You ended the call, guilt joining the mix, you had completely forgotten to tell your mother, her words stirring the pot of emotions and memories in your gut as they rose into your chest, filling your lungs, spilling into your throat into your nasal cavity, behind your eyes and into your skull. You slackened your hold on your phone, and it tumbled onto the tile. You choked against the burning in your throat, pressing your palms into your eyes, trying- uselessly- to stop the slideshow of memories.

He had been your best friend, your longest crush, your first- well, everything. You truly thought you would be spending the rest of your life with him, travelling the world as he plays volleyball, eventually settling down and buying a house somewhere, anywhere. Marriage, a cat, maybe a dog, and kids. You never once thought the father of your future children would be anyone but Kageyama Tobio. Apparently, he thought differently. Against your will, the night he ended everything played back in your vision.

You heard the door close as you finished up dinner, a smile stretching wide on your face as you imagined his reaction. You spent the week learning how to make this dish, an old family recipe from his grandmother that he apparently adored and ate every time he visited home without fail. After years of watching her make it, you’d think you would have a good idea of how but you were naïve to think so. You finish plating the dishes and setting up the table, brows pinched in confusion, he hadn’t come to greet you yet, which he always does. You shrug it off, he might’ve had a tiring practice, hopefully the food makes up for it.

You pad down the hallway, thinking he jumped straight in the shower. You stop in the doorway of your shared bedroom; He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as his elbows dig into his knees. Worry and confusion rose; what was wrong? Was practice that bad? You don’t try to mask your steps towards him, though he flinches all the same when you lay a hand on his shoulder, quickly withdrawing it. You sink to your knees in front of him, gingerly holding his wrists as you speak softly.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad practice? Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner, I got everything at the table.” He sighed deeply, sagging further, like the weight of the world weighed down on him. Your concern grew and you squeezed his wrists in a silent question. He took a deep breath and sat up, you let your hands fall away but he caught them, cradling them in his grasp, pity and guilt swirling in his glassy gaze as it met yours.

You sat up on your knees, why in the world would he look at you like that? “Tobio? What’s wrong, baby you have to tell me so I can help, you gotta let me in.” You were pleading at this point. He so rarely showed this much sadness, you were sick with worry, mind going to the worst-case scenario. He squeezes your hands, bringing them up to his lips. He keeps them there for a moment, his eyes shut, brow drawn tight.

He brings them back down to his lap and lets out another sigh, meeting your gaze again. You can see the conflict on his features bright as day. “(Y/N), I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay back what you’ve given me. I’m truly, truly grateful and you've been one of my longest friends, one of my best friends. Which is why- why-“

He lets out a shuddering breath gaze dropping, tightening his grip around your hands. Your brow is pinched deeply, eyes searching his features for any sign of what could be going on. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself before continuing, and when he meets your gaze you no longer see the guilt, you see a wall you worked so hard to bring down. You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “You are one of the most important people in my life, which is why I have to do this. I can’t keep doing this, prolonging the inevitable only makes it more painful and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But, (Y/N) I can't keep this up any longer, I thought- I thought it might pass, if I kept going along, pretending like everything is fine, when it’s not.” Your heart drops, no, it can’t be, what does he mean?.

“Everything is fine Tobio, what are you talking about? What are you saying, I-I don’t understand.” The emotion thickens your voice and his face falls as he sees the tears gather in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I loved you so, so much. I promise, I loved you more than anything, so much it hurt.” The tears are escaping both your eyes. You want to get out of his grasp but his hands only tighten around yours, like a lifeline. You suppress a sob bubbling up to speak, the world tumbling softly from your quivering lips. “Did?”

A hand touching your shoulder tears you from the memory. You’re aware of the hot tears streaming down your face, of the tight sobs wracking your frame, ripping from your throat against your will. You feel hollow, the ache grows and pulses until it’s all you feel, grief rising to meet it. You blink the tears away, to look around the room, you hadn’t recognized it right away, still disoriented from the memory. You see your friends, concern and in some cases, anger, in their gaze as they hover. You were surprised to find Tsukishima was the one at your side, the one who had pulled you from the memory turned nightmare. Your lip wobbles and he pulls you into his arms, embracing you as you cry into his sweatshirt, much like you had to Hinata weeks ago.

You’re vaguely aware of hushed voices around you, the rumble of Tsukishima’s voice oddly soothes you. You can hear Shoyo behind you, you think you hear him say your mother’s name, was she calling again? The thought slips from your mind as quickly as it came. You sat in your bathroom for who knows how long, crying in Tsukishima’s arms, surrounded by your friends.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it but I guess good for you

Later that night, when everyone has finally passed out, you slip through your apartment door, pulling your hood up as you head towards the street. You have your phone, keys and pepper spray. You just wanted- no, needed to get out of there, the slight chill in the air rousing you. You take in the surroundings, letting your feet take you wherever they please.

You sigh as you take in the park in front of you. You used to come here a lot, whenever you needed to clear your head. It was a space for you to be truly alone to work out your emotions. Which is exactly what you needed now. You smile faintly as you reminisce, not paying attention as you head to the swings, only to stop in your tracks, still hidden in the shade as you watch on. What the fuck.

The creak of the swings is drowned out by laughter, two people sit on the swings, legs pumping to go higher and higher. Her hair whips in the wind and she closes her eyes, leaning back for a moment. You watch him slow down, eventually stopping and getting up to approach her flying form. Right when she is about to pass him, he moves, grabbing her and the swing, halting them mid-swing. She squeals, which quickly melts into laughter as she lets go of the chains, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck. Her smile is a sun in the night, love radiating from the couple as they kiss. You look away and spot an open picnic basket, a bottle of wine poking through on a blanket rumpled from use.

You leave as silently as you came.

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow ache starts to burn as you walk back to your apartment. You didn’t expect him to be as affected tonight as you were but you thought he’d- what did you think he’d feel? Mourning? Grief? Sadness? Why would he? He was the one who broke it off, who ‘fell out of love’ or at least that’s what he said when he broke your heart. And to bring her there?

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You shared that spot with him a year after you moved in together, he knew its significance to you, to your relationship. How long had he been bringing her there? What did he tell her about it? Did he use the words you said to him all those years ago? You wondered if he even remembered what today was. He said he had loved you, but was he truthful? He promised quite a few things during your relationship that were broken when he admitted it, when he confessed ‘what had been eating him up inside.’

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow was slowly filling, bitter, anger, loss, and more flooded the space as you recalled his words that night.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You had never felt more dread than in that moment.

“I loved you so, so much.” You had wished the past tense was a mistake, but you knew it wasn’t.

“I don’t know when it happened, if it was slowly or quickly.” You could tell it was a lie.

“I-I just realized I loved you in a different way than you loved me.” A cute way of saying he no longer loved you.

“I thought that if I just stuck with it, that it might change, that it was just a slump.” Another way to say ‘leading you on because I was too afraid to tell you the truth.’

“I tried, I tried so hard to love you the way you wanted me to.” For how long? How many years did he lead you on, how long did he let you think everything was ok?

“You deserve more than I can offer.” You knew that was true, you did deserve more. You deserved a lot more than this, than an offer.

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You were crying by the time you got to your apartment building, but it was different. You didn’t feel the aching hollow as strongly as before. You felt anger, bitterness about what he said, you had a million things you wanted to say to him, to make him know what he did. But didn’t he already know? He was there, he saw what his words did, he saw the aftermath, at the very least he heard about it. And yet the night after he was pictured entering a popular high-end club. It was on your Twitter feed that morning, effectively pouring salt and lemon into the hole in your heart. You had thought it then, and you’re thinking it now.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me If you ever cared to ask

The next morning, no one brought up last night, and you were thankful for it. You think they could sense the shift, from the aching despair to the brittle anger. So you all lounged on the couch, playing Mario Kart to help you channel it.

You were on the fourth stage of Grief according to Yamaguchi, who brought it up the following day over breakfast. He explained: Denial- which was during the breakup and right after, Depression- which came to fruition after you ran into them at the store, Bargaining- When you tried to go back to how it was before, trying to keep the friendship alive so you’d still have him around, Anger- which was now, when you realize that you wasted years of your life for someone who didn’t even love you and now they want to go back to friends, after they immediately get into a new relationship. The next step would be the final- Acceptance, when you would finally accept he was gone, when you could finally move on.

Good for you

After that night the change became more obvious. You weren’t hiding anymore, you would hold your head high and snap others off if they trod down the wrong path. You felt the hot anger slowly cool over time, as you continued to go out, to clubs, bars, parties Shoyo always invites you to but you always decline. You met his teammates, finally after too long.

He had dinner for you and the team at his apartment that he shares with one of the said teammates. You dressed up a little, enough for Shoyo to whistle when you showed him over facetime as you finished getting ready. You weren’t planning on going anywhere except your apartment after; there was just something about knowing you look good that does wonders to the confidence. You grin widely as he complains about not wanting to deal with his teammates crushing on you. You end the call when you get into your car, you were going to stop by the store to get something and then head over, despite his assurances no one else was bringing anything.

You purse your lips in thought as you surveyed the wine selection in front of you, bending slightly to read the label of one on a lower shelf. You didn’t realize you were taking up the aisle until someone cleared their throat behind you. You paid the little mind, murmuring an apology as you stepped to the side. You felt their presence next to you, and after a minute of them burning a hole through you with their gaze you turned towards them, lips pursed in annoyance rather than thought.

You're doin' great out there without me, baby, like a damn sociopath

The wide eyes of Kageyama Tobio meet yours as you study him for a moment before smiling. “Kageyama! Sorry, I didn’t realize I was taking up the whole aisle, you know me; always so indecisive.”

Your joke seems to snap him out of whatever train of thought he was in. He smiles and chuckles, turning to look at the wine in front of you. “What kind of an occasion is it?” He asks after a beat. “Oh Shoyo is introducing me to his teammates today, wine’s something people bring to dinners right?”

He smiles and nods before pointing out several bottles. “These would be appropriate, and Shoyo likes this brand.'' He plucks one from the shelf before presenting it to you. You smile and thank him, before parroting his question back to him. He turns back to the wine. “Uh, Yumi got a promotion and I’m surprising her with dinner with her coworkers.” You hum in thought before grabbing a wine off the shelf for him. “I think this would be a good one. It's white, so the stain won't be as bad and won’t stain her lips like a red would. It’s a dessert wine so even her younger colleagues should enjoy it. Oh, and tell her congrats for me.” He smiles and thanks you before you part.

You arrive right on time at Shoyo’s, the wine was well received and his teammates were great. They were everything he told you and more, you all got along great, especially you and Atsumu, he was Shoyos roommate and it was great to have another person to make fun of his horrible habits with, much to Shoyo’s dismay.

The dinner flies by, and eventually, you’re the last to leave. You wave to Atsumu before hugging Shoyo. “Thank’s Sho, for everything you’ve done for me these past 6 months. I love you.” He squeezes you tight, kissing the crown of your head before pulling away.“You don’t need to thank me (Y/N), I know you’d do the same. I love you too, drive safe.” You wave as you leave back to your apartment.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night. Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

The next 6 months fly by, and you spend more and more time with Shoyo and his team. Bokuto dubs you an honorary Jackal and you celebrate drinking until dawn, as a true Jackal would. You spend time with them individually, the gym with Bokuto, reality TV with Sakusa, movie nights with Shoyo, and all of the above with Atsumu, in addition to annoying his brother Osamu at his restaurant.

It hits you out of the blue. You had felt a little off all day, but you had chalked it up to the takeout you had last night. You glance at the calendar as you walk past, only to backtrack and look again, with wide eyes. Today marked a year since the breakup. It had taken you a long time to move on, but you were finally starting to feel yourself again, so why did your heart ache all of a sudden? Why did the burning rise in your throat, prickling the back of your eyes as you began to breathe faster, feeling the despair rise out of the depths to rip a sob from you lips? You try to stop, taking deep breaths, count five things in the room, but none of it works. It’s not as bad as the other times, but you feel shame crawling up to join, you were finally turning things around, how could you let it all go to waste?

You curl into yourself on the couch, blindly calling Shoyo to ask for his company, maybe he’d know, he helped you get this far, maybe he can make sure you don’t fall too far. You listen to the rings until you hear the click of an answered call, not even letting him speak before crying into the phone, asking him to be with you, help you understand. Half your words are unintelligible as you ramble on, not really listening to the other end until you think you hear him say he’s on his way, but he sounded odd, different. Had you interrupted him? Was he too busy? No, he would’ve told you and sent someone else, probably Yachi since she was the closest.

You quickly tire of trying to hold everything back, and let it wash over you, all the feelings from this past year rise up, poised to drown you, and you allow it, letting it crash down and wash over you. You let the sobs free themselves, somehow knowing it was the right thing. You give yourself to the despair, the anger, the loneliness.

You don’t hear the knocking at the door, or the sound of the door opening, too absorbed untangling the knot of emotions in your heart; until you feel the cushion next to you you sink with the weight of another person, and a hand gently rubs your back soothingly.

You lean into him, letting him pull you to him like many times before. He pulls you into his lap, curling an arm around your waist while the other hand cradles the back of your head, letting you sob into his shirt. You take a deep breath, letting his familiar scent calm you- wait.

You freeze and your stomach drops. It’s not Shoyo. They're bigger, enough to cradle you against their chest. They’re whispering soothing words into your hair, and you hear a familiar accent, leaning back quickly enough to send a wave of dizziness through you and you sway for a moment.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Atsumu asks, moving his hands to your hip and back to steady you. Your wide eyes meet his and he tilts his head slightly in confusion. “(Y/N), hey sweetheart, you okay? Gave me quite the scare there earlier ya know?” You continue to stare at him until he waves a hand in front of your face, breaking whatever spell you were under.

You blink a few times, shaking your head slightly as the corner of his mouth quirked up. You look back at him, brows furrowed, cringing when you hear your voice, hoarse after however long of crying. “’Tsumu? What’re you doing here? Where’s Sho?” He raises an eyebrow at your question, lifting his hand to wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Whaddya mean? You called me cryin’ an’ askin’ me to come here to keep ya company. Speakin’ of, what in the world is wrong? What’s got you so sad sweetcheeks?” Your face heats at the nickname.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I meant to call Sho, he knows; it’s- today is-” He embraces you as a fresh wave of tears springs from your eyes. You can hear the rumble of his chest as he speaks, breath fanning your ear. “It’s all ok, ya don’t haveta cry, I can call chibi if you want him instead of me, it's no prob-“ You shake your head, cutting him off.

“No, s’kay. Thanks for being here ‘Tsumu, sorry I pretty much threw myself into your lap when you sat down.” You rub an eye, feeling awfully close to a toddler. He chuckles and combs your hair back, tilting your chin up so you’re looking him in the eye. “No needta thank me doll, and I won’t object to a pretty thing like you throwing themselves into my lap, though I’d enjoy it more if you weren’t crying. Now, d’ya wanna tell me what made you cry a river in here. Or at least what I can do to help.”

You curl inward slightly, not sure how to explain your wants at this moment, the emotions tangling in your chest too raw to name. You use actions to express your needs as words continue to fail you. You shift in his lap, straddling him instead of the awkward side hug you were doing before. You break eye contact, looking anywhere but him, feeling awkward and exposed. He snorts softly and his hands run up your knees, palm flat against your thighs, up and over your hips to splay against your back, bringing you back to his chest. Your pals lay flat against his sides, sliding along his ribcage and then south, fisting the fabric against his lower back as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. You waited and waited but the tears didn’t come, you could feel the tear tracts cool on your cheeks, trying to put your feelings into words.

A shudder than through his body as he felt you sigh into his neck, arms wrapping tighter around you, pulling you closer, until you were flush against him. The minutes passed by as the two of you stayed wrapped around each other, you breathing the only sound in the apartment. You sighed again, pulling away from him slightly to lean back to look at him. He searched your face, taking in the emotions clouding your eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips soothingly. You gave him a weary smile and took a deep breath, looking down at your hands as you spoke.

“I don’t know if Sho told you about this, but about 6 months before I met you guys I got out of a pretty serious relationship, I mean it was my first relationship and the breakup hit me really hard. The day of the dinner was one of the first times I had truly felt myself again.

“We got together in our first year of high school. We had been friends years before that. God, I had a crush on him for so long, I can’t remember anyone before that.” Your voice is whispy, reminiscing on a better time. “I wasn't a manager that first year, though I was around often enough that I helped where I could. I was at almost every practice, which is how I got acquainted with the other first years. He was still guarded and grumpy then, so I was friends with everyone first, and we all slowly warmed up to each other.

“When he asked me out at the end of the year, after saying goodbye to the third years, it just- it felt so right, like this is supposed to happen. I was a manager our last two years and by graduation the six of us were close. We managed to stay in touch and visit each other whenever possible. Sho had gone to travel, Kei to Sendai for school, Hitoka and Tadashi stayed for school before she went to Tokyo and he stayed in Miyagi. Tobio was picked up by the national team immediately after graduation, to play in Rio. I was accepted into a university in Osaka, and he moved in with me when he got back.” You ignored the way Atsumu’s hands tightened their grip when you said his name.

“It was perfect, we- we were doing fine, or at least I thought we were.” Your voice cracked and you took a shuddering breath before continuing. “He traveled between Tokyo and Osaka a lot and of course for games but it never bothered me, I knew what I was getting into. Eventually, Sho came back, and joined your team, moving into an apartment not far from ours. I was so happy.” You whispered the last sentence, afraid if you said it too loud it’d sound like a lie.

“I hadn’t noticed any changes, he didn’t seem withdrawn or unaffectionate, he was like he always was, until he wasn’t. He came home one night and said he didn’t love me like that anymore, that he couldn’t love me the way I loved him. He- he said he tried to, he said he tried for a long time, in case it was a slump but it wasn’t. And all-all I could think about was the way he said it, like he had been thinking about this for a long time, he looked so tired like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he told me the last who knows how long was a lie.

“He left and stayed at a teammate's house until he could get an apartment. He moved close by, I still don’t know why he didn’t move to Tokyo. Sho came and stayed with me for a few days, until I kicked him out so he could focus on the tournament that was coming up. He kept in touch with Tobio, and would update me when I asked.

“That was a year ago, and I know I should be over him, and I am, or I thought I was until I realized what today was and- and everything, all the emotions I had pushed down came back up, no longer letting me ignore them. All the grief and anger and insecurity kept rising and rising until I thought I was gonna drown. Which is when I called Sho, or at least I thought I did.” The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile as you met his gaze.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

“I- I think it would’ve been easier if he hurt too, if I saw that it affected him even half as much, because that would mean he had felt something, he had loved me at one point. And I don’t know, maybe he came to terms with it before he ended it, but seeing him with someone else, not even 3 weeks later just rubbed salt too deep into the wound that just seeing them happy together sent me into tears. When I ran into them days after I found out, when I saw with my own eyes how good he was, how happy he was without me; I don’t know how long I cried, but it was suffocating, it had such a tight grip on me I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t even realize Sho was there until he was hugging me.” You watched your tears fall onto your hands, leaving droplets on his pants. You took in a shuddering breath, suddenly meeting his gaze.

“I just- I don’t know what wrong with me, why can’t I let myself be happy?” Your voice cracked, and you brought a hand to your face, embarrassment simmering low in your gut. Atsumu gently pried your hand away from your face, replacing it with his own as he cupped your cheek. He wiped the tears that fell from your lashes with his thumb. He brought you forward to kiss the crown of your head before returning his gaze to you.

“Doll, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you, ya hear? Your heart was broken, it ain’t gonna fix itself in a day. You will be happy, I promise. Whenever we lose someone we love, a piece of us goes with them. He was sucha huge part of your life, I’d be more worried if you weren’t sad. I can’t say when, but one day you’ll notice it hurts less and less until you barely notice it. Until then you have me and everyone else to help you, so don’t hesitate to lean on us when you need to, got it?”

Your bottom lip wobbled and your eyes were glassy with tears yet again, though this time for a different reason. You threw your arms around his neck and crushed him into you as you cried his name. “I didn’t know you were such a softie! I bet no ones gonna believe me when I tell ‘em.” He wrapped his arms around you again, you were so close you could feel his laughter in his chest. “Yeah, and I didn’t know ya were such a cry baby.” You snorted and pulled away, “That’s on you, I am a well-known cry baby.”

You matched his grin, feeling lighter. You pulled yourself off his lap, but he didn’t let you get very far, pulling you into his side, your legs thrown over his thighs as you turned on the TV. You ended up falling asleep on your couch together, your neck cramped and you found out you drool, but it was worth it.

But I guess good for you

The next few months went by relatively quickly. There were a few hiccups, mostly on holidays, but you listened to what Atsumu had told you and you leaned on your friends during those times. Speaking of Atsumu, while you two were close before, after that night you felt even closer. You found yourself at the apartment he shared with Shoyo more and more. You came to every MSBY game you could, usually helping Osamu run his booth.

When you weren’t with him, Atsumu would often find you helping his brother run orders at the restaurant; under the guise of an apology for annoying him so often, but both twins saw how happy you were when you were working. Eventually, Osamu just gave you a position there, because he didn’t want to get caught exploiting free labor, not because he liked you or anything, you were just as annoying as his brother- or so he says.

The blonde hadn’t noticed just how much time the two of you spent together until you went to visit Yachi in Tokyo for a week, and had odd chunks of time with nothing to do. It was confusing, and frankly off-putting how different it was when you weren’t around. Everyone noticed of course, and teased him for it, more the team than Osamu, because he couldn’t deny he missed you too.

Despite your protests that it was just a 2-hour train ride from Tokyo, and maybe another 10-minute ride to the stop near your apartment, Atsumu insisted on picking you up from the station during your call earlier. “ ‘M not taking no for an answer doll, I’m picking ya up.” You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and sighed. “Fine, but I’m venoming you for the gas, no ifs ands or buts about it.” You smiled at the sound of his groan from the other line, good thing you were just as stubborn.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You were idly scrolling through your Instagram feed, about 10 minutes away from Osaka when you saw a glimpse of a ring, you scrolled back up and read the caption. ‘I’m the luckiest man in the world’ followed by a picture of what must’ve been Yumi’s hand, and adorned on her left ring finger was a large, and no doubt expensive, engagement ring. 6 months ago it would’ve summoned tears, but now you smile faintly, commenting your congratulations before scrolling past. Atsumu was right, eventually, it started to hurt less and less and now it was barely there.

You stood up when the announcement of your arrival in Osaka rang overhead, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bags to exit the train car. You immediately spotted your chauffeur, thanks mostly to the gaggle of young girls surrounding him as he laughed and signed autographs. You walked slowly, trying to buy time until they left but (un?)fortunately he spotted you. A wide grin stretched his features and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, lifting your hand in a small wave. He turned back to the girls and said something before breaking through, jogging towards you as you met him halfway.

You had an amused look on your face from his theatrics and the wide gazes of the girls he left behind. “Hey.” He said when he stopped in front of you. You snorted, “Hey.” He pouted at your tease, which only made it more funny, before rolling his eyes and taking some of your bags, giving you a pointed look when you tried to object. You huffed and walked next to him towards the exit.

You startled slightly when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you by your hip into his side. You looked up at him but he kept his gaze ahead, though you could see the slight flush to his cheeks and the slight twitch of a grin. You reciprocated, hooking your thumb through the belt loop by his hip as you kept your gaze ahead, his stare bringing a slight heat to your face.

He laughed lightly and you two continued out to his car where he tried to make you sit in the back seat because “ it’s not professional for a chauffeur to let their passenger sit up front.” You laughed before letting your face fall into a mock-serious stare and said “no.” in the best deadpan tone you could conjure up before climbing in.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him when he didn’t start the car. His hands were on the steering wheel and he was looking ahead in thought. “Atsumu?” He looked at you, smiling softly, still not saying anything. “Uhh you okay? Do I really need to sit in the back for you to be able to drive because-“ He laughed, waving your concerns off. “No, no, I’ll allow it this once. Sorry for spacin’ out, I’m happy yer home.” You looked at him incredulously, “ I was 2 hours away ‘tsumu.” You see a faint flush creep up his neck and he clears his throat, turning back to the wheel and turning on the car. ‘I know, I just missed ya ‘s all.”

You were just able to make out his dejected mumble, quietly huffing in amusement as you glanced down briefly before turning to look forward, biting back the smile at his flinch when you grabbed his hand, bringing it to your lap as you intertwined your fingers. “I missed you too, ya big softie.” Smiling, he squeezes your palm before focusing on the road, and you feel something stir, a bud sprouting from the once hollow place in your chest. It hasn’t bloomed yet, but you have a feeling it will soon.

#my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #haikyuu atsumu

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

The Drought

A/N: Hello again! So, trying to get back into the swing of things so I searched for some fic prompts and came across this one! Prompt at the end. Feel free to drop prompts into my ask! I'd love to write more! Here’s what’s frustrating: out of the entire Atlantis expedition, approximately three quarters of them are ATA gene carriers, all thanks to Carson’s finely tuned gene therapy. Awesome. Great. They now have an entire plethora of people to pick from for ‘light bulb duty’ down in the ancient labs, but the problem is, while there are plenty of people to choose from now, Atlantis and her ancient tech just refuses to work for anyone as well as she works for John fucking Sheppard. It’s infuriating, honestly, but Rodney supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Captain Kirk has managed to practically sleep his way across the Pegasus Galaxy and if Atlantis was a person, of course she would be a she, so of course she would line up with the rest of hussies and--. Hmph. Maybe it’s John that’s the hussy. Lieutenant Colonel Hussy. Okay, that’s almost funny.

“What are we doin’ here again?” Sheppard asks in that nasally, whiny voice he has and it brings Rodney back to the present where they’re currently testing out what very well could be the galaxy’s version of a blood sugar monitor but it only wants to work with John. “I want you to put your finger under the little…. Thing there and think it on,” Rodney says, like it’s the most self-explanatory thing in the world. The duhis left unsaid but it’s there, hanging in the air. He’s also trying very hard not to think about where else he might like Sheppard to put his finger and-- “Why?” It’s infuriating, not only that John Sheppard is the only one that Atlantis responds so easily to, but that he doesn’t even seem to care. Rodney can feel the tips of his ears go red at the annoyance, but there’s that almost smug smile that touches Sheppard’s lips and God, he’s so annoying. And handsome. And smart (not as smart as Rodney of course, but then--) Right. Ancient tech. “It’s not working,” John intones and Rodney frowns down at the tablet. “Well, you aren’t trying hard enough.” “Trying hard enough at what? I’m doing exactly what you said, Rodney.” “Think harder then.” “Can’t we just try something else? Somethin’ cool?” And John honest to God whines and Christ, why is this Rodney’s life? “I just need you to think it on, Colonel,” Rodney snips mostly because they’ve been down here in this lab for the last hour or so and it’s just a couple of them and for the last fifty eight minutes and thirty two seconds, Rodney has been acutely aware of just how close Sheppard is sitting to where he’s working and he just wants to be done. John sighs and screws his eyes shut for all of three seconds before he opens one slowly, glancing down at the machine. Nothing. “I don’t wanna say I toldja so, but--.” “Not another word,” Rodney huffs and he drops the tablet onto the table, lifting a hand to massage his temples. He’s over this. He’s really, really over this and when he glances up at Sheppard to dismiss him, he’s slightly embarrassed to find the Colonel already looking at him, an unreadable look on his face. “I guess that’s it then,” he says, and he sounds annoyed. “We’re done for the day.” “Well, I guess I’ll see ya later then,” John says, standing from his stool and waving lazily at the crew before he slouches out of the lab, Rodney looking after him as he does. It takes all of two seconds before Zelenka speaks up. “Ahem,” he says, feigning clearing his throat. “Perhaps you would like it if I got you a glass of water?” “Not near the ancient tech,” Rodney answers automatically before he realizes exactly what Radek said. “What?” “Clearly, you are incredibly thirsty.” It’s not just Rodney’s ears that go pink this time, but his cheeks burn too. “I have no idea—” “Oh please,” Radek smirks. “The tech works just as well for any other gene carrier here on Atlantis, you know that. We all know you just pretend it doesn’t to give you an excuse to get Sheppard down here and ogle him for an hour.” “First of all, there is no ogling anyone here and second of all, you knowthe city responds best to him! We can’t all be natural gene carriers with the stupid hair and that stupid slouch and--.” “Relax, Rodney,” Radek says and he’s still teasing but maybe there’s something else there too. “For what it is worth, Miko, Simpson and myself believe that the Colonel is just as… parched.” “Wait, wait, wait, you’re saying—No, no. You’re wrong. It’s not possible.” Radek shrugs. “If you say so.” He’s content to let it go and go back to work, and Rodney thinks it really sucks that Zelenka would put such a thought in his head and then just goes back to pretending he hasn’t completely melted Rodney’s brain. Well, what the hell is he supposed to do about this now?

He gives it a few days, lets himself ruminate on it and he’s still pretty certain that Radek is full of it. But then they’re back to the labs, Sheppard back on lightbulb duty, except this time they’re alone and Rodney cannot… well, he can’t quite look away from the Colonel, no matter how hard he tries. Not even when the blood sugar monitor turns on at the slightest thought from Sheppard and--. “Rodney? Something on your mind, pal?” “No,” Rodney answers, perhaps just a little too quickly, eyes snapping down to the tablet in his hand as he catalogs the response the tech is giving John. “Why?” Because he can’t leave well enough alone. “IS there something on yourmind?” John’s response is just as defensive, an emphatic no, and Rodney knewthat Radek was full of shit, that little--. There’s a shrill alarm that sounds for a fraction of a second before the sprinklersthat Rodney didn’t even know existed come on, immediately soaking them both. John curses and stands up from the stool quickly and Rodney very nearly slips in an attempt to get the tablet out of the water, only managing to keep from busting his ass when John reaches for him and suddenly, they’re standing there so close and--. Thirsty. Yes, perhaps he is. “Sheppard, I--.” He doesn’t get a chance to say what he is when John leans forward and crushes their lips together and oh. Oh. This is… this is nice. He relaxes against it, perhaps leaning into it a bit more than he means to and it seems to continue for an eternity before John finally, perhaps reluctantly, pulls away. “Didn’t think you’d ever get with the program, Rodney,” John mutters and he looks a little embarrassed but a lot proud of himself and--. “Sorry it took so long to get the tech workin’,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and Rodney realizes he should probably figure out how to turn the sprinklers off, but he’s a little dumbstruck right now, to be frank. “I was hopin’ that if we had to try again, no one else would be here so I could--. Well. So I could see if you were maybe just as dehydrated as I am.” Sonofabitch. Zelenka was right. “Absolutely bone dry.” “Well,” Sheppard says, and there’s a hint of an almost devious smile touching his lips. “Let’s see what we can do about quenching that, huh?” Definitely Lieutenant Colonel Hussy. But this time, Rodney’s more than okay with it.

Your prompt: Person B staring admiringly at Person A from across the room. A friend whispers into Person B's ear: 'Why are you so thirsty?'

#sga fic #mcshep #ship: mcshep #rodney mckay #john shepprd #atlantis ships it #prompt fic #stargate atlantis #sga #first kiss #pining john #oblivious rodney

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 30: Slipping Through My Fingers

Summary: Jamie grasps at straws for a way to ease Claire

Read on AO3

Read chp 30 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 30

***

Jamie didn’t remember dozing off, but he must have, because he was dragged out of sleep so abruptly it was like cold water had been dumped over his head, shooting adrenaline into his system. It wasn’t apparent at first what had woken him until Claire made a sound that clearly wasn’t the first time she’d cried out.

It was a whimper, weak but plaintive, piercing to Jamie’s soul. He shot into wakefulness as it tore from her throat again, and he pushed himself up on his elbow, blinking sleep away so he could see her.

She was still asleep. Her eyes were clenched tightly closed while her head jerked back and forth in an unconscious mimicry of shaking her head no. Before Jamie could even reach out to bring her out of the dream, she was shooting up in bed, eyes open and wild with panic.

Her frantic gaze met his eyes, and her chest heaved as she drew in a sharp breath that was halfway between a gasp and a sob.

Jamie was crushing her to his chest without a second more of hesitation.

“It was jes’ a dream, a nighean,” he said as he held her fiercely, “it’s alright. It wasna real. I’m here.”

He tucked her head under her chin and made shushing sounds. The puir lass butted her forehead into his chest, but instead of bringing her arms around him— which she likely lacked the strength to do— she simply leaned her whole body into him.

“It’s alright now, my fair one,” Jamie hushed, “it wasna real. Was jes’ a nightmare.”

She gave a tiny tilt of the head that may have been a nod, but Jamie still felt her trembling against him. His heart broke for her. Clearly whatever she had dreamt had shaken her to the core. It had been a while since she’d had a reaction with this much energy to anything, and now her body was alight with fear.

Jamie nudged his chin down to kiss her hair and softly asked, “what were ye dreamin’, lass?”

Her swallow was audible and her breath shuddered before she answered.

“It was dark. Pitch black, but somehow I could see the darkness swirling. And I was ripped apart— over and over. And I—“ she inhaled sharply, “I was alone.”

“It wasna real, mo nighean donn. Ye arena alone. I’m right here. And I’m no’ goin’ anywhere.”

Jamie hated not being able to see her face and meet her eyes when he said that, so he carefully laid her back flat on the bed. She complied, boneless and allowing him to maneuver her, but he spotted a flash of distress in her eyes.

“Dinna fash,” he quickly soothed. He laid down next to her, bracing his head up on his elbow so he could stare down at her, but he brought his other hand to stroke her arm. “I’m here, aye?” He met her eyes this time, trying to impart the solemnity of his words, “We’re together. And that’s all that matters.”

She let out a breath that was as much of an agreement as she could muster.

“Just…” she said suddenly, surprising Jamie, “don’t leave my side.”

In another show of vigor, she reached up to twine her arms around his neck and cling to him. He knew what she wanted without being told. Sliding a hand underneath her back, Jamie gently lifted her into a sitting position, careful not to put much distance between them that would upset her. When there was inevitably a bit of space between their midsections, Claire scooted closer to press herself to him.

“Sassenach?” When she didn’t respond, he said again, “Claire? Is this alright?”

She laid her head on his shoulder, “I just want you to hold me for a bit.”

His stomach twisted, and he withdrew his hands from where they were flat on her back so that he could wrap his arms tightly around her instead. He pressed his lips to her forehead and then tucked her head underneath his chin. Tears burned at his eyes.

“I ken ye’re scared,” he murmured into her hair, kissing it softly, “but we’ll face it together, mo ghraidh, always.”

A shuddering breath against him was the only response.

He wished he had more words for her— something more to say that would ease her— but even language seemed to fail him. He could only say the same thing over and over, promising to be with her. Finding himself at the end of the power of words, he relied on touch.

Bringing a hand up, he began to stroke her hair gently. It occurred him how she seemed impossibly small. There was no trace of his vibrant, curious, and even mischievous faerie. She just clung to him, quiet, and allowed him to hold her.

She was somehow muted. Everything about her seemed almost… serene, only in all the wrong ways. She simply didn’t have the energy to do anything more than listlessly be.

Jamie found himself missing her, even though she was there with him at that very moment.

Adso was meowing insistently outside, demanding that his morning meal be served, but Jamie wouldn’t dream of letting Claire go. He patiently rocked her, swaying slightly as she rested in his arms.

“When I was young,” Jamie began to speak, not sure exactly why this story came to his head, “my older brother Willie and I wanted tae build a treehouse sae badly.” Claire nestled her head further onto his shoulder, settling in, and Jamie took that as a sign to continue. “A treehouse is jes’ a tiny room made of wood that you put high up in a tree and have tae climb up to even get into it.” The usual Claire would have definitely had something to say about that, some snarky remark about the oddities of humanity, but she was too fatigued to do anything but listen and breathe against him. “My da didna trust us wi’ the tools, and he was workin’ full time and tryin’ tae keep up wi’ the farm. We begged and pleaded for him tae jes’ let us do it ourselves, but he said it’d have tae wait until the summer. But then Murtagh showed up in our backyard one day without a word, hauling pieces of wood and his tools, and Willie and I couldna believe our eyes. We worked every afternoon for weeks. When it was finally done, Murtagh, Willie, and my Da spent a night up there— cuddled up in blankets side by side, looking out the windae at the stars and listenin’ to Da and Murtagh tell stories. I remember Willie and I fell asleep huddled together for warmth, listenin’ to the soothing sound of their voices. It was the best night.”

Jamie swallowed the lump in his throat. What he had left out was the fact that it was after Willie’s cancer diagnosis. As they’d built the treehouse, he’d watched Willie grow more and more fatigued. That night in the treehouse was one of the last perfect memories he had with his brother.

He realized suddenly that it’d been foolish to tell such an emotional story to Claire at that moment, and as lungs clenched, he wished he could take his words back inside. Sensing his grief, she whispered, “you miss him.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement— an acknowledgement of his sorrow and longing for his brother.

“I’m sorry, I didna mean…”

“You can’t help what you feel, Jamie, don’t apologize,” she said softly. When Jamie tilted his head down to look at her, he saw she’d lifted her face from his shoulder and there were tears glistening in her eyes.

“My sweet lass—” he croaked.

The reason for his telling the story— the reason why it had come to his head in the first place— hung in the air, heavy and unspoken between them.

“I’m okay, Jamie,” she said, straightening up and blinking her brimming eyes at him, “really. I’m just… tired. I’ll be alright. I don’t want you to worry like this.”

So she could feel that too.

“Of course I worry for ye, mo nighean donn,” he whispered.

There was a flash of panic inside him, sudden and sharp. Jamie had lost much in his life. He’d lost his brother to cancer, his mother and newborn brother to a traumatic birth, and he’d watched his father die of a stroke. He wasn’t sure he could bear to watch Claire fade away.

But he couldn't jump to conclusions yet— he told himself firmly as he shoved all of that as far down inside himself as he possibly could.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Claire argued, laying her head back down on his shoulder. Stubborn as ever. Her lips brushed over it in the slightest, the barest hint of a kiss.

“I’ll try no’ to,” he promised.

“Let’s go down and get the cheetie his breakfast,” Claire said abruptly as another urgent meow came from outside the door, although she made no move.

“Are ye sure?” Jamie wanted to argue, at least insist that she stay in bed, but he knew deep inside him that there was no way she’d part from him even for a moment, so he offered instead, “we can stay a while longer.” He squeezed his arms more tightly around her, holding her close.

“As long as we go together,” she said.

As they got up from the bed, Jamie was careful to keep an arm secured firmly around her. He abided by her residual clinginess and indulged her desire to stay pressed close to him. It was no real task; he would have her in his arms every minute of every day if he could. The length of her body pressed down his arm as she leaned slightly against him.

The moment they made it downstairs, she sat on the couch, curling her knees to her chest under the fluffy throw blanket as Jamie went in the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

When he returned, she was antsy for his presence. He settled down on the couch next to her, holding a simple granola bar in his hand (he didn’t want to spend time preparing anything else when she was like this). Nearly instantly, he had a lapful of faerie. She climbed up, straddling his legs, and hugged her arms around his neck so their fronts were pressed together. Nearly every inch of her was touching him, and he thought if she was physically capable, she would have made the rest of her body touch too.

It broke his heart damn near in two to see her suffering like this.

To be helpless to do anything.

“Want tae watch another movie, lass?” he asked gently. He had no idea what else to suggest. She needed rest and recuperation, and he ached for her to be distracted, even if just for a short while.

She gave a little murmur of assent but didn’t raise her head from where it was burrowed into the crook of his neck.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to get her attention. When he didn’t receive anything in reply, he smoothed his hand up her back to gently cradle the nape of her neck. He suddenly felt the need to reassure her— or, if he was being honest, for her to reassure him. “Hey, mo ghraidh. I willna let anything happen, aye?”

“I know,” she said quietly.

But that was a lie. Both of them knew it was.

There was no telling what was happening, no assurance that it would pass. He was making promises he couldn’t keep. But everything inside of him had been screaming the words until he had to say them.

“What should we watch?” Jamie changed the subject before his brain could dwell on his fears long enough for Claire to sense them.

“You pick, Jamie,” she said.

The way she said his name... It made his heart clench terribly. She said it like it was an endearment, only his name meant the same as “love” to her.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jamie grabbed the remote and turned on Aristocats, knowing that cat movies and shows tended to be her favorites. His faerie had a bit of an obsession now. How different from when she��d first cowered in his arms at the sight of Adso.

But she didn’t turn around to watch the movie. She stayed facing away from it, curled into Jamie. As the movie played, he simply held her and didn’t say a word. He would do whatever she needed for the rest of his life if only it could help her feel the slightest bit better.

As the movie went on, Claire gradually began to melt. The paradoxical mix of listlessness and clinginess seemed to dampen, and she shifted off of him so she could curl underneath a blanket with her head in his lap instead.

His hands settled into a rhythmic stroking of her hair. In the worst type of deja vu, Jamie realized this was just like the previous day. Claire had no energy even for the simplest of demands on her body.

She needed rest— he reminded himself. There was need to fash. He’d wanted her to sleep more, hadn’t he?

Then why was there such a pang in his chest?

***

Claire woke feeling disoriented. Weariness had settled deep in her bones. It was like she was underwater with a hand clutching at her ankle and dragging her downward while she constantly tried to battle toward the surface. For a second, she couldn’t figure out where she was. There was something soft underneath her cheek, comfortable, and she didn’t feel a sense of panic. Only vague unease.

The weight on her chest didn’t abate as she sat up. She hadn’t even managed to open her eyes yet, but the dizziness that struck her full force would have been debilitating if not for the darkness encasing her. She sank back down to lay on her side.

“Claire?”

The voice of her beloved tore her from the swirling that was taking place in her brain. Her heart skipped a beat at his voice— the first thing she felt acutely since she’d woken. She clung to that with all her might and opened her eyes.

Jamie was hovering over her, his eyes swimming with concern and his expression so boyish in the way he looked at her. She felt the slight ease of relief looking up at him. Seeing his face always seemed to anchor her to the ground, to the solid reassurance of his strength.

“Any better this morning?” he asked, but there was little hope in his voice. He already knew the answer.

It broke her heart to say it to him. She hated to make him worry, but she didn’t have the strength anymore to hide from him.

“No,” she answered, finding her voice breathy even to her own ears.

She closed her eyes again and was surprised to feel the heat of a tear leak from one corner.

Jamie sighed— a heartbreaking sound— and then his big hands came up to stroke her hair. His touch was comforting; it made her feel like she could breathe, even if only for a second before the waves crashed over her again and drove her head beneath the water.

“I dinna ken what tae do,” Jamie said softly, helplessness straining his voice in a way that tore her open.

That was enough to force her into wakefulness again.

Jamie looked haunted. His eyes were swimming with concern, the features of his beautiful face tight with anxiety. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep himself in check. Claire was too weak to sense how distraught he was, but she didn’t need to. It was painted loud and clear over every inch of his body. It killed her to see his distress and not be able to do anything about it, but she was just too tired even to try to pretend she was alright enough to reassure him.

“I don’t know either,” her hoarse voice answered.

His hands were moving again, coming to cradle her face between them. So warm and strong, so gentle when he touched her. Her eyes must have fallen closed again because her world narrowed down to the single point of his thumb smoothing over her cheeks.

“Rest, mo ghraidh,” Jamie said softly.

Her forehead tingled as he kissed it with the barest brush of lips, and then his hands disappeared from her face.

Her eyes popped open enough to see Jamie rising from the bed to his feet.

“What—?” she asked foggily, finding her mouth filled with fuzz, “where are you going?”

“I’ll leave ye to yer peace, sweet one,” Jamie said tenderly, returning to her side to run his hand down her face, over her shoulder, and then down the length of her body until it rested on her hip, “go back to sleep.”

“Please don’t go,” she found herself pleading, voice airy, “please stay, just for a little while longer?”

A whine tore from his throat as if she had struck him with a blow. He hadn’t meant to let it out, but she knew he was so pained by seeing her like this. She nearly regretted asking him until he slipped back into bed, eager, and gathered her again into his arms. He was so big, his broad chest like a wall behind her and his arms like trees that wrapped around her body. His solidness, his strength— they gave her a sense of security. Comfort like nothing else could.

“I’m sorry,” she said, repressing a shiver that tried to wrack her body. She hated hurting him like this. She knew he was hurting because of her. But she needed him so badly it frightened her.

“No,” he sounded devastated again, and it was killing her to keep hearing him like that, “no, mo ghraidh. Dinna say ye’re sorry. It became my job the second I decided to love ye wi’ my whole heart. I’ll always be here for ye, as ye are for me. We take turns, aye? Now it’s yer turn.”

Jamie always knew exactly what needed to be said to assuage her guilt. The tightness in her chest eased and she relaxed back into him, feeling more grounded. His words were a reminder that this wouldn’t last forever. She would be okay— with him— and until she was better, he’d be there to hold her.

“Go back to sleep, mo nighean donn,” Jamie said gently, “I willna leave yer side.”

Safe in the knowledge that Jamie would keep her afloat, she let herself drift back into the murky grey depths.

***

Jamie rubbed his face wearily as placed his dishes in the sink. After she’d woken up, Claire had told him to go make himself a real meal and not just throw something together as he’d been doing recently. As much as he didn’t like leaving her, he indulged his love of cooking and made an extensive chicken parmesan for himself. Before Claire, cooking used to be one of the ways he relieved stress, but he hadn’t had any time for it as of late. He certainly was stressed with watching Claire suffer from whatever was dragging her down, but of course cooking was powerless in the face of that worry.

The thoughts consumed him, circling him like vultures. He tried to beat them back as best as he could. It had only been a few days— it was foolish to go to extremes so early. But after google searches turned up nothing helpful about sick faeries, and Claire herself had been at a loss, Jamie was left with only the theories that his own brain could come up with. Maybe she had caught a cold or some human disease that her body didn’t know how to handle? Maybe with some time and rest she would be back to her usual self. Since a doctor's visit was out of the question, Jamie had to wait and pray.

Pray that this was nothing like watching his family get sick.

Pray that it would pass soon.

And try not to lose himself to the gnawing of worry inside of him.

Once he was done cleaning up, having barely managed to eat much at all, he walked into the living room looking for Claire.

“Mo ghraidh?” he called.

There was no answer. Figuring she went up to the bedroom, Jamie climbed the stairs with eager energy. It wasn’t that he couldn’t stand being away from her for an hour, but… well… he didn't like being away from her for an hour.

His face was just beginning to break into a smile at the thought of holding her again as he swung into their bedroom.

The sight inside stole it instantly, and he froze, looking at the scene in front of him with a feeling that somehow took endearment and twisted it into anguish and sympathy.

Claire was lying on the floor, curled up on her side under her fluffy throw blanket from downstairs.

Jamie’s heart clenched as affection warred with soft worry. He could see her chest rising and falling in an even rhythm where her hand was clutching a fold of the blanket to her chest. She wasn’t asleep— he could tell— but she laid curled up on the floor and didn’t seem to even notice him.

“What are ye doin’ on the floor, sweet one?” he asked quietly as he knelt down next to her. He brushed a bit of her hair back from her face as her eyes opened.

She blinked up at him slowly for a second and allowed him to gently stroke her hair before answering.

“I’m tired,” she breathed.

“I ken,” he said, his heart breaking and the bubble in his chest expanding painfully, “but why no’ on the bed?”

“‘S more comfortable here,” she answered, sounding foggy.

Jamie was perplexed for a moment before he came to the realization. She had slept on the ground her whole life. On mossy beds and leafy piles, if not just plain grass.

A choked sound escaped him as he thought about her laying down on the ground, seeking comfort from a more familiar surface.

“Can I lay wi’ ye a moment?” he asked through the sympathy coating his throat.

She nodded, just a small movement of her head sliding back and forth over the carpet. As soon as he got permission, Jamie slid behind her so he could curl up against her back. At the feeling of him pressing up behind her, Claire straightened her legs a bit so Jamie could slot his own into the curve behind her knees. He draped an arm over her middle and held her close.

“Is this alright, mo ghraidh?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she breathed in barely a whisper.

So Jamie laid there on the ground with her, holding her. He wished fervently that she could find the slightest comfort— anything to ease her suffering. He more than wished.

“God,” he prayed silently, “dinna let her slip away from me. Please. Please.”

It took most of his willpower to keep himself from shaking under the pressure of worry. There was already enough trembling between the two of them— Claire’s body was nearly vibrating in its distress— she didn’t need him adding to that.

“Sleep now,” he whispered in her ear, “and dinna fash. I’m here.”

He was there. Only he was completely powerless to do anything but lay on the floor beside her and offer what little he could in the face of… Jamie didn’t even know what to call it other than suffering.

An idea suddenly popped into his head.

“Hold on, mo nighean donn,” Jamie said quietly into his hair. He pressed a kiss to her temple, watching her eyelashes flutter in response, and then tore himself away before he could regret leaving her.

He all but ran down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like there was something he could do. It was small, maybe it would be insignificant, but perhaps it could ease her. And that was something. When he had grabbed the item in question, he returned upstairs. Even as he plugged it into the wall, Claire remained motionless on the ground with her eyes closed.

The moment he turned on the space heater, however, those beautiful golds popped open to regard it with a wide gaze. It wasn’t excitement— the puir lass was too muted to look excited— but the gravity and regard that she held for the device was present.

Jamie made sure it was pointed right at her before he made his way back over so he could take her in his arms again, positioning her in the cocoon of his body.

“I promised ye an hour in front of the space heater, did I no’?” he said softly, trying to keep his tone light even as he felt like his heart was being thrown into a blender.

She didn’t have a witty jab about her victory nor an attempt to swindle him for more time. Instead, she was quiet for a moment before she added, “with you.”

“Aye. With me. I wouldna forget that part of the bargain, lass. It was my favorite part.”

He felt like he was choking. This wasn’t at all how either of them had imagined the spoils of her game. She was supposed to tug him downstairs with a smirk on those lovely lips. She was supposed to force him to hold up his end of the deal as he playfully refused to turn it on. She was supposed to turn around in his arms and kiss him only a few minutes into the offered hour.

It was supposed to be anything but this. Anything but lying quietly on the floor while Jamie scraped the bottom of the barrel for anything he could do to help her.

“Can ye feel it, Claire?” he couldn’t help but ask, “does it feel alright?”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded against the carpet. “Yes,” she breathed, “Thank you, Jamie.”

That was it. Quiet and empty, her words rattled around in Jamie’s heart until they lodged like a sprinter in the beating flesh.

“Anything else, lass? What else can I do?” he couldn’t help but ask. Beg. Plead.

“This is nice,” she replied quietly.

Jamie expected some sort of gesture to go with the words. A rub of his arm. A tilt of the head behind her to smile at him. Even just a shift of her body. Claire always expressed herself so physically. Only now she was still, and nothing accompanied her words except silence.

And Jamie was left in his helplessness.

“Alright, a leannan. Go back to yer rest now. I willna leave until ye wake again. I promise.”

And when the second hour passed, the space heater still buzzing in front of Claire and Jamie’s back aching, he was still there with her on the floor, praying over her in whispers.

***

a/n: Please also accept my apology that this particular chapter was the gift I had for World Outlander Day. I am offering lots of hug gifs over on my twitter (@jamiemackfraser) and here if anyone needs one. Much love to you all!

Also, next chapter will be following very shortly!

#happy world outlander day!!!#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire

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cherriesradio · 3 years

Text

Soulmate Headcanons with The Big 3 cause why not

(Gn reader) (no warnings) (fluff)

Mirio

Cliche - can hear his soulmate sing

The first time was when he (and y/n) was 5

Y/n was watching the little mermaid for the third time and was like “hey I remember the lyrics to the song so ima sing it too!”

And Mirio, who was eating his lunch at the time with Tamaki, was surprised

“Mom theirs a person in my head should I try to get them out? I don’t wanna though, I like their voice”

And his mom gets so excited (I haven’t reached the flash back scenes so uh yeah) and is like “Mirio that’s your soulmate!”

And he just has a happy grin and is like “Whoa! That’s cool! I wonder when Tamaki will hear his!” And Tamaki is just blushing at the thought

And then in fourth and fifth grade y/n is in choir and he has a love/hate relationship with it

On one hand, he loved hearing his soulmate and having the constant reminder that theres someone out there just for him

On the other hand it got really annoying having to hear them sing the same song over and over again lol

He dealt with it tho

And then comes UA

He has this one classmate…… their REALLY cute……

Low key feels bad for liking someone who (he thinks) isn’t his soulmate

But he doesn’t really think about it much cause he’s busy workin hard hard to be a hero

And then one day he finds this class mate in the dorms commonroom

Singing

And before he finds them he’s like “oh cool soulmate™️ is singing”

And then he walks in the room and at first he’s like “are my ears ringing or something? I hear doubles”

He has just sees y/n sitting there sing it under their breath while studying or something and just

BLUSH

BLUSHING SUNSHINE BOY

And he just plain walks away

After a day or two (where he quickly realized “whoa y/n is actually really amazing” and gets a crush) he just casually goes up to y/n and says “hey can you sing for me for a second? While I walk in the other room?”

And y/n is like “uhhhh sure”

*does that*

Mirio comes running in and is like “YOUR MY SOULMATE!” With the widest grin in the world

And y/n is just so happy as well cause they’ve definitely been crushing on him forever

And their relationship? Most wholesome thing in the world

Cause he’s super caring and stuff he’ll always ask before he does anything at all

“Hey can I hold your hand” “mirio we’ve been together for almost a year” “so can I hold your hand” “*sigh* yes, thanks for being considerate”

Tamaki

Cliche - Red String

As soon as he realized what it’s for he’s just blushing

Sometimes he just looks down at it and blushes

(His parents and Mirio/ Nejire find this to be the funniest thing)

Once y/n flew to Korea to visit family and the string was really tight compared to normal

And Idk about you but I like to think that this can mean two things: their soulmate is more far away then normal or they died

And Tamaki being Tamaki immediately starts think they died

“Tamaki it’s probably fine, their just traveling or something” “y-y-yeah but-but wh-what if if th-their no-not??????”

And then they come back and he just has the three day equivalent of a relived sigh

And then when they move closer to go to UA????

Jesus when the string loosens he just looks down like

O////////////////O “shoot”

And when he sees them in his classroom for third year and the string is so short and then sees them look down

OH YOU BETTER BELIEVE HE DID A MILLION FLIPS TO TRY TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE THEY WEREN’T HIS SOULMATE

cause he’s a shy baby 👉👈😳

And one time y/n goes up to him and asks to train with him cause “he’s the strongest in the class” (and y/n has a crush on him)

And he just awkwardly nods through the whole thing while y/n is like “where do you wanna meet up? What time?” And then has to have Nejire tell him what they said

And then when they meet up and their like right in front of each other and Tamaki is just STARING at the string as if y/n can’t see it too

“Can you see it?”

Tamaki’s response: O ///////////// O

“So that’s a yes?” *nods* y/n smiles

“That’s nice. Anyways, let’s go start training”

He fidgets with it a lot

He also tugs on it slightly when he wants y/n but their talking to someone else or their working

On a missions when he gets really hurt and goes to the hospital and y/n isn’t with him he’ll tug on it so they know he’s okay

They get a cat when they move in together and once it sat right on the string and Tamaki’s paranoided mind was like “what if we can’t lift it from under him????”

And then y/n had to reminded him that it only affects them two

Whenever Tamaki’s having a panic attack he shakes and trembles and y/n feels it

And then just feeling them running as fast as possible towards him to help

“Y/n where are you going aren’t you on patrol in only half an hour-“

“GOTTA GO TAMA’S PANICKING

Nejire

Cliche - wrist writing

They have knew each other since they were kids, family friends and all

Always knew they were soulmates but still acted like friends till high school when both were finally ready for dating

Every morning one will wake up to a little “good morning honey ❤️”

And all though the day they’ll both doodle on their wrists and some times write little funny things to make the other laugh

It’s like when couples keep each other awake texting till 1am

Once she tried to cook and told y/n and then after half a hour just a wrote “please come to the kitchen help”

Y/N WAS SWEATING

She started a grease fire and was easily put out by Mirio don’t worry ❤️

She’s the type that will get bored and just draw those amazing looking sharpie tattoos

And then she’ll find y/n with them and be like “twins!!!!!!!”

When she was introduced in the show when they visited 1-A?

She gave y/n the wrong time so half way through they wrote “soooooo how’d it go????”

“Oh sorry we’re half way through! Mirios beating them all up :)”

Y/n was concerned

At some point she finds out that it’s not just the wrist but all over their body so one morning she gets a marker and draws little freckles on her face because y/n talks about how they always wanted freckles

She was out shopping and she was like “hey I just found this shirt you would like should I get you it” and when y/n asks what it looks like she draws it instead of bothering to take her phone out and send a pic

Never texts lol

“Why would I text them when I can just write on my arm??????”

Sometimes she’ll pull them by the wrist to drag them somewhere and she does it to herald sometimes and check her wrist and think “on its smuggling that means I’m pulling to hard” and then apologize for ten mou straight

She’s a angel and no one can change my mind

#the big 3 #mha #bnha #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mirio x reader #tamaki x reader #nejire x reader #🥧

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bluebuckstallion · 3 years

Text

the sun will rise again - mlp fic p2

part one contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! disclaimer: there is no transphobia in this fic lmao im not gonna write abt horse transphobia. this is a feel good. but cw for fear of outing (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!) paragraph one: The wind whispered lovingly, cooling little Big Mac and Applejack's drowsy heads. A time like this in a young pony's life can be very confusing, something the two of them had grown to be very familiar with. Applejack rested his backside against the trunk of one of his family's old apple trees, if they had no where else to take solace, at least they had the orchard and each other's company, he thought. It felt nice, having this little secret kept safe by somepony you knew would protect it, and who still cared about you just the same. "If nopony accepts us, at least we have each other. I don't care if it's just you and me, Big Mac, we'll be jus' fine." Applejack stated in a soft voice, breaking the silence. He was accepting of his circumstances, no matter how they turned out. As long as him and his sister ended up okay. And again, he was sure they would. Big Mac smiled and folded her hooves neatly, "Eeyup."

Applejack worked his fluffy hooves through Big Mac's mane, doing his absolute best to make the fine ginger hair into a braid. He wanted to do something nice for his sister, something to celebrate her bravery and courage in realizing - and telling - Applejack, and he wanted her to feel nice in her own body, even if she couldn't change much right now, or for a while. No matter how small the act, Big Mac was especially grateful. Nobody had ever treated her like this, on purpose at least, like she was a mare. And every chance Applejack could sieze he would do just that, remind her that was what, *who* she was. "So, Big Mac, what do you reckon I call you now?" With that her eyes widened, and her brows furrowed, it caught her off guard. "Like...my name? I didn't know I could change my name..." she let out, slightly confused, a tender hoof raising to her chin as she thought hard. "Yeah!" AJ beamed, not straying from his tedious work. Big Mac, still lying down, started shuffling her hooves again. "Well... I always thought if I were a girl my name would be something pretty, which I mean, I am a girl and all, but I don't feel very pretty ever," she admitted disheartened. "You're plenty pretty! You're an Apple! You wouldn't say Ma or Granny wasn't pretty, would you?" Applejack pointed out, gesturing absentmindedly in the air with his hooves, then promptly returning back to his work, being sure to keep a steady hoof. "Well... Nope." Big Mac blurted awkwardly, pursing her lips. "But-" she began. "No 'but's'!" Applejack interjected, "You're an Apple, and a dang pretty one!" Applejack closed his eyes and lifted his head proudly, putting his non-dominant hoof against his puffed chest, "Look at me, I'm an Apple and I'd say I'm awful handsome, just like Pa!" he said with an endearing foal-like passion and certainty. He chuckled, his cheeks growing slightly cherry as he let out a tiny chuckle, and got back to his work, about a quarter way down the locks. Big Mac grinned slightly, "I suppose," and tapped her hooves together shyly, playing with the grass falling between them. "You know, I always did think my mane was a little long for a stallion," she laughed playfully, diverting from the subject and trying to reassure herself. She went to touch her mane, and was swiftly batted away by Applejack's quick hoof, "Nuh-uh Big Mac, I'm workin' here. Don't go touchin' it now," he said sternly but still non-maliciously. He just wanted it to look perfect for his big sister, he wanted her to be proud, and feel as pretty as she could. Applejack wanted to know how it felt to look pretty, too, but in the way he'd always dreamed of. He wondered often if he'd ever get the blessing of such a wonderful feeling. "Applejack, do you ever wish you were born a colt?" Big mac asked genuinely, still a little unsure of what Applejack was feeling, but knowing there was solidarity in it somewhere, she just had to understand it a little more. "Well - not really," Applejack spat out, his eyes looking away from his busy hooves, and quickly darting back to them before he drifted off in fantasy. He thought about it for a second, and still felt strange. "I wasn't really born a filly or a colt... or anything, I think, I was just born me. And I wouldn't really have it any other way. Sure, I mean, maybe I'd like shorter hair or somethin', or a uh," he struggled to find the words in his young foal vocabulary, "maybe if my nose was a little more colt-ish I'd be happy. But I think I'm pretty happy with me now. I do hope when I'm older my voice is a little better, though. I can't really do much though," he sighed dismissively. He continued, "I don't ever really feel too bad about who I am... I think I just feel happy about who I am. When I see myself as not a colt and not a filly, just a foal, a pony, it makes me real happy-like. But, I don't get too sad unless people are real serious about calling me a filly. I do get sad sometimes though, when I look too much like a filly to other people..." As Applejack placed an orchard blossom in Big Mac's hair, tucked snug and safe behind her ear, a thought went through Big Mac's head. "Applejack!" she jumped up, the rush of movement startling him, who was so concentrated seconds prior. "Let's give you a haircut! It'll be like how you braided my hair for me, we can cut yours!" Applejack nervously rubbed his elbow, then raising his hoof lightly beneath his muzzle, and he began to sweat. "Well, I, what if Ma and Pa don't like it?" Big Mac thought hard as Applejack grimaced, "Well, we can hide it with one of Pa's hats, an' I'm sure they won't mind," she suggested happily. Applejack considered briefly, just for a moment, the downsides of it all. He then immediately turned them all away and smiled so hard his eyes shut, stomping his front hooves against the ground up and down, "Okay, let's do it Big Mac!" As they galloped back to the barn, Applejack had suddenly realized he was so surprised with how much Big Mac had been talking, she never seemed so excited to talk about anything, and he realized how much this all meant to her. It meant a lot to him, too. Especially that his sister was so supportive while still knowing so little, but in her defense, he didn't know much either. It was a very special feeling, he thought to himself, very pleased. They skidded to a halt clumsily as they reached the doors to the barn. Foal-ishly peeking through the front windows, they realized it was only Granny and baby Bloom home, their parents must be out. They looked at each other, grinning, and cantered to the back, sneaking inside through the back door. When they made it to the bathroom, Applejack noted Big Mac looked a little worn out, wearing a tired look on her face. She figured all this chattiness probably made her sister a little exhausted. He shot a reassuring patended Sibling glance at her telling her all she needed to know, not needing words. Big Mac let out a gentle smile. She helped her little brother reach the cabinet above the sink, reaching the scissors that were so high up it took them both working together to reach. Applejack had a slight doubt in his mind, his parents probably didn't want him touching the scissors by himself, did they? But he had his big sister with him, and it had to be done! Nopony else would, and only they understood. Applejack balanced shakily with two hooves on Big Mac's back, warily reaching one back hoof up onto the sink, as he balanced with his two front hooves against the edge of the cabinet. He grasped the scissors between his teeth, and brashly jumped down, just barely missing a potential accident, even though they both knew better than to jump around with scissors, they threw caution to the wind regardless. Applejack happily put his front hooves on the rim of the sink, tapping them and bopping his little head, he looked at his big sister, who began working at his hair. Big Mac chopped with a great lack of care, playfully snipping one strand then the next. Applejack beamed the whole time, simply happy to have it happen, plan or not. Big Mac frequently spun around him, balancing on three hooves and sometimes getting in so close that she held his face with one hoof, his hair with another, and cut with the scissors firm in her mouth. Applejack's body relaxed completely and was kicking and rearing with every cut, wiggling and happily holding his front hooves together and constantly swishing his head from side to side to check how it looked, one side fell to his muzzle, and the other to his chin. He smiled bigger than ever before. With the final snip, Big Mac dropped the scissors carelessly to the tile below. She gently grasped Applejack's chin and turned her sibling's head forward to face the mirror, and his mouth immediately fell agape, his jaw slack, and his eyes slowly widening with the purest joy there ever was. He cupped his hooves to his mouth, removing them, turning his head to the side, and then fixing himself and putting his hooves to his open mouth once again. He felt a soft tug in his throat and his chest, and he couldn't control the watering in his eyes, "Big Mac!!" his voice cracked. "Yes Applejack?" the filly said apprehensively, fearing that she had done something wrong. "Oh Big Mac, oh my gosh I love it so so much!!" He bucked and whinnied, spinning in circles, his once-flowing tail too short to trip over now, and the euphoria of it all was the most overwhelming emotion little Applejack had ever felt. The tugging became so immense he couldn't ignore it, and he acknowledged it by leaping onto Big Mac with a hearty hug, squeezing her tight as his little arms could, and he rubbed his muzzle into her neck. Big Mac politely pushed her hoof between her neck and AJ's hoof, making sure he didn't squeeze too tight, struggling slightly to breathe. This foal was definitely a strong one. "Thank you so much big sis!!! I feel so great!!" he neighed, stepping back, one hoof raised wiping his immense wave of tears. The feeling of euphoria shot through his body in a rush, showing itself in the form of a tiny but powerful hop, as he lifted his legs into the air and threw them around. Applejack rushed back to the mirror, urging Big Mac to come look as well, as she didn't quite see herself yet with her hair "done all proper-like." Big Mac's face became pale, as she felt the rush of a thousand different emotions. The paranoia became astounding again, what if she didn't like how she looked as a filly? What if she still didn't feel right? What if it wasn't - Her thoughts were abruptly cut short by Applejack tugging her over, knowing her sister just sometimes needed a push in the right direction. "Lookie Big Mac!!" he placed his arm cheerfully around her, wrapping it over her back. Big Mac's eyes were glued shut, and she only bashfully peeked one eye open because curiosity would've ate her alive otherwise, and deep down she knew she had to see herself eventually. She uncovered her hoof from her eye, and opened both of them slowly. Her mouth opened ever so slightly, and she wasn't even aware she had stopped breathing, her eyes fluttered up and down the braided locks, along with her heart, and her eyes landed on the blossom in her ear. She couldn't speak, her throat clogged up from such elation. She felt the choking once again, but it wasn't like before, this feeling was quite welcoming actually. It rushed from her throat up to her head, and took her breath away. The sobbing ebbed at her cheeks right away, and she turned to look at her brother. As they spoke with lack of words, they stared with inordinate graditude. As Big Mac smoothly turned back to the mirror, Applejack stomped all his hooves again, one after the other with no apparent order or care, shaking his head in a frenzy as his ears twitched and he smiled a mile wide. He finally felt *pretty.* Big Mac watched herself adoringly, for the first time ever, and felt this acceptance and understanding of herself coursing through her veins with a confidence she'd never had. She blushed, and her ears fell downward, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Applejack," she whispered softly, as if she were too worried the world would hear her secrets. Applejack peered closer with wide, curious eyes, "Yeah Big Mac?" he whispered back. "My name.." she mumbled. Applejack raised his eyebrows, captivated, as Big Mac slowly lifted her hoof to the blossom behind her ear. "Blossom?" Applejack stated inquisitively, before Big Mac could shake her head AJ corrected himself, "Orchard Blossom!" he exlaimed, leaning back and jumping in the air, "Oh big sis, that's so pretty!! I love it so much!!" Orchard Blossom nervously gestured for him to keep it down, as he was prone to being unaware of his volume control. Applejack embarassedly covered his mouth with a shy smile, "Oops, sorry big sis." he cleared his throat, "Orchard Blossom!!" he yell-whispered, the excitement shining through him, he stamped his tiny hooves and clapped them together in celebration. "That's so pretty, Orchard Blossom!" Applejack told her earnestly, loving the new name. "I don't think I want a new name, but I'm really happy ya found one you like!" "Orchard Blossom, Orchard Blossom, Orchard Blossom!" Applejack repeated, playfully prancing in circles, excited by the sight of his short tail, he spun even faster. "What's all that commotion in there? Applejack? Big Mac? Are ya in there?" they heard through the shut door, hoofsteps gradually approaching, painstakingly slow but steady. Both of them felt their hearts drop from their chest as they froze, unable to even fathom moving. How would they explain any of this? Applejack hurried to clean up desperately, brushing the hair together with his hooves, coldly sweating from his brow as he frantically hurried to remove any evidence. He stopped mid-sweep to quickly shove his father's hat on his head, which slumped immediately and blocked his vision. "Oh dangit Blossom, Pa's hat's too big! I can't see!!" Orchard Blossom was still unmoving, sheer panic stopping her very breaths. Applejack felt the tugging in his throat rise up again as he began whimpering.

#applejack mlp #big mac mlp #mlp fanfic #mlp fic #mlp writing #mlp au #mlp #applejack #big mac #trans applejack #trans big mac #my little pony #lesbian applejack #lesbian big mac #orchard blossom #trans au #the sun will rise again

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