#the two pieces i have unfinished are both heavy angst as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kivino · 7 months

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TAKE US BACK || ZOMBIE AU || KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK X GN!READER

Word Counter – 6.4k words

Summary – The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it.

Tags/Warnings – Zombie AU (heavily twd coded, don’t expect some l4d type of stuff /lh. Death and turning after the bite ARE slower, however. For the sake of drama. obviously), gore, blood, gn!Reader, established relationship, heavy angst, major character death.

A/n – So, this fic is my contribution to the spooky season! Special thanks to @mockerycrow for helping me with the pictures for the header, you're the best, pookie!!! I have a playlist for this fic too, so in case you want to read this with complete immersion I’ll link it here. Enjoy <333

also available on my ao3

upd. if you saw that unfinished paragraph you didn’t see anything, move along 👁️👁️

“Kyle, I think…I think I’m bitten.” was all it took to shatter him into millions of tiny pieces. Just like that. Nothing mattered anymore, even that you promised each other to stay alive, no matter what. In the back of his mind, he knew all those promises muttered into his lips while he feverishly kissed you were empty, shallow attempts to silence his mind, to make him sleep in peace, thinking you’ll be there no matter what. And of course, he didn’t doubt your words even for a split second.

Kyle knew he was a fool to believe that. To think the two of you were inseparable. In a world like this, how could one even think of something staying forever untouched by decay that spread far beyond the horizon? Rot overtook everything, and if something was still untouched by it, soon enough that wither would find a way to slither inside, spoiling it forever. It would even find its way into people’s minds, ruining humanity in a manner no physical disease could ever hope to damage them. Kyle and you have seen it happen far too many times, and his only wish was for you to meet your end together, peacefully. But now…he only wished he had the strength to go on, he truly did.

Because you needed him. Now more than ever.

And so, he kept trying. If he didn’t then both of you would be done for. You didn’t deserve that, not when all he wanted was for you to be safe and well, not caring much about himself. You were the one who saved him when all the shit went down, now it was time to return the favor. So, he pushed himself through every agonizingly slow day. But he was starting to feel the already feeble remains of his strength slipping away from him. He wouldn’t give up, however. Never. Not when your life depended on it.

That’s why while you were bedridden, weakness setting in your body as a permanent, bitter resident, Kyle was scouring the old town for fever and cold medicine, trying to be as quiet as possible, not to attract any undead. He had a gun, but he did not use it – too loud and bullets were a luxury, not a commodity. Kyle only had one bullet, following the advice of a nice older man with mutton chops he remembered meeting in one of the survivor camps a long time ago.

“Always save the last bullet for yourself or your loved ones. You never know who’ll need it more”

Methods aside, recent days were spent wandering abandoned houses in attempts to find at least some food for the two of you. Only when the darkness started to settle, Kyle would head back, throwing his backpack over the fence and barely managing to climb it, sore muscles and empty stomach sending jolts of pain all through his body. Even then, he was restless, sitting by your side, wiping your forehead of sweat, and taking your temperature. Your breathing was strained, chest rising and falling under thin blankets that barely kept you warm. And each time he looked at you for more than a minute at a time he felt his insides twisting in pain, eyes getting white-hot with tears, and throat closing, barely letting him take a short breath just so he doesn’t suffocate in his misery.

And then the sun rises, warm rays painting the room in a variety of colors, falling over your face, morning birds wake up Kyle from his nightmare-filled sleep. He jolts awake from the dreams, filled with the image of you, dying in agony over and over, crying out for help, begging him to do something. You get torn apart, your intestines spilling out on the damp floor, pulled out by a crowd of the undead who devour you with vigorous hunger, biting into your flesh until he can’t recognize your face from the bloody and mangled pulp that rotting hands and jagged teeth turn you into. Your raw, pained screams haunt him even when he’s awake, observing you lose your life all over again. Much slower and in a much more painful way.

The sun rises. And so does Kyle. Your desperate pleas that drag from the dream are muffled as soon as he sees you sleeping. Forgetting, that you were getting weaker with each day that passed. Choosing to bask in your tranquil glow, in the way your eyelashes fluttered while you slept, choosing to neglect the worry clawing on the back of his mind just to stay like this with you for a little longer. Kyle knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable, but he still decided to make the best out of the short amount of time he had left with you. Hoping that some miracle would happen and you wouldn’t succumb to the decay. That the bite would turn out to be a bad dream you both had on the same night, waking up from it in cold sweat, searching for the comfort of each other’s embrace, while letting out relieved sighs, realizing that you’re safe.

That would be great, wouldn’t it?

Instead, he shakes you awake with a gentle hand, almost not wanting to wake you up from your slumber. You blink up at him, looking even more tired than before you went to sleep. Circles under your eyes are even darker than the previous night. And Kyle is in pain once again. He wants to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder, to lead you through the long, silent halls of the school where you were staying, full of dust and damp, moldy smell, to have breakfast together. Like good old times. But he sees that in your eyes, you’re too weak to pull your weight up and stand up. So, he brings the heated-up cans of beans here, putting one on a stool in front of you, helping you to sit up before he even thinks of touching his food.

“Kyle, that’s twice what I usually eat.” You mutter, watery eyes rising to him, sitting on the mattress in front of you with his legs crossed. He raises his eyebrow and his head shifts to the side in a questioning motion.

“Well, you have to eat plenty to recover.” He said, matter-of-factly. You stay silent, unwilling to have that debate right now. You barely managed to stay awake as it is. Let him think that you’ll get better, despite everything you saw together. Despite every rule that you’ve discovered. Let him live in the illusion, in the waking dream that all will be well if he tries hard enough. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s growing cold”

You didn’t realize that you’d been drilling the can of steaming beans in front of you with your glassy gaze for the past several minutes, submerged in your thoughts deep enough to suffocate. You pick up the spoon with a weak, shaky motion. Then your eyes fall on the can. Somehow, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Failing at something so simple…you knew it’d hurt your pride even more. So, you opted to push the tin closer to the edge of the stool.

Kyle glanced over at you, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. He sensed the fatigue from you, lacing the air that surrounded you and leaving dark, oily traces over anything your fingers lingered on. You breathed sickness. Your hands, which were able to easily bash an undead’s head on the wall just several days ago, now could barely hold a spoon steady without it trembling and threatening to fall, spilling all the contents over the moth-eaten blanket. He felt his heart squeeze in pain, and he swore that something shattered inside of him once again.

“Let me help you.” Although it sounded like an offer, Kyle didn’t look like he was going to let you debate it, shuffling closer to you, taking the spoon from your hand in a swift motion. You purse your lips, knowing that protesting that would be stupid. If it wasn’t for how weak and sick you were, and for a lot of other circumstances, it would be a cutesy moment. Your dear spoon-feeding you something? Please, one’s teeth would rot from how sweet it is. But now it was just another deep, bleeding gash on your pride. Kyle blows on the food, cooling it off and promptly moving it towards your mouth with his hand cupped just under the spoon. You obediently clamp your lips around the spoon. “There we go.” He gives you a small smile, but you see the melancholy in his eyes when Kyle wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He means well, yet you can’t help but feel like you’re a burden to him.

You loathed being like this. Being this weak. Fragile. You were able to fend for yourself, you had resilience and strength, but now you were just rendered useless, only dragging Kyle down, depriving him of the freedom to go on.

He’ll die if he continues like this.

You knew it. He was exhausted, and you’ve been like this for a little over a week. Survival wasn’t about skill anymore, it was about luck. You lost yours already, the moment rotten, jagged teeth sunk into the flesh of your forearm like it was butter, drawing the first blood. But Kyle, he…sooner or later he will lose his luck too. And it was apparent that it was coming sooner than you anticipated. A bullet he won’t be able to dodge. An infected scratch. An undead that he simply didn’t notice because of how tired he is. A bear trap in the vicinity of someone’s camp. Something will get to Kyle. Or someone. And thankfully, you won’t be here to witness it. Hopefully.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” You barely managed to mutter out, clinging to him with all the strength you had, which, to be fair, wasn’t a lot. He could feel the cold of your hands clasped around his neck even through several layers of his clothes. Kyle’s hands carefully held you under your thighs as he went up the stairs, not showing any signs of exertion except for beads of sweat on his temples.

“Just thought we might watch the sunrise together, like good old days” You could hear the soft smile that tugged on his mouth when he said that. Another reminder for you that he probably loathed the way you lived right now and would prefer to go back to the way things were. With you not being his…burden.

You didn’t need to be reminded of this. Of the “good old days”. Finding that abandoned farm, deep in the buttcrack of the countryside was what saved the both of you when the world started going to shit. You and Kyle met each other years prior, but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when everything as you knew it was gone.

Hiding there gave you a sense of normalcy you missed so much, after having to live for months, years like an animal. You didn’t feel like the world as you knew it was falling apart beyond that fence with cracked white paint. Deserted fields full of dead crops, empty house with a bunch of stuff forgotten or thrown around messily - it was obvious the owners wouldn’t come back any time soon. Snooping around gave you too much information - you couldn’t help but feel a bitter burn on the back of your throat when you picked up a framed family photo from the fireplace, five tan faces staring back at you with perpetual smiles etched into the glossy paper.

You didn’t have the gall to throw away or burn everything personal the previous family left behind. Photo albums, children's clothes and toys, diplomas, drawings, letters, posters, and even something as small as shopping lists on the fridge, five life stories were packed into several boxes, taped and put in the attic. Kyle didn’t understand your wish to preserve something that wasn’t even yours, but he didn’t interfere, choosing to give you a hand instead. If it helped you to sleep in someone else’s bed calmer, replacing the presumably dead strangers, he was willing to indulge you.

Despite how far away from the civilization this farm was, seeing an undead roaming around wasn’t a very rare occurrence, but at least you could handle the occasional walking corpses. You wake up, you go on patrol. You finish patrol, and you meet the sunrise with Kyle by your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, with a blanket thrown over the both of you, sitting on the front porch, right on the creaking stairs. These fleeting moments felt so right. Like home.

Eventually, you had to continue moving. Started to run short on supplies ever since then. Running into all sorts of different people, relying on strangers, leading a nomad way of life. It wasn’t unfulfilling, since you only needed the company of each other to keep it together. In a variety of groups that you’ve been through it was always a known fact that you’ll stick by each other before someone else.

All he needed was your loving hug when you came back from a supply run. A soft kiss that you would put on that scar right on his cheek. Or to hold your hand under the table when you sat down to eat with whatever group you were with this week, like your love for each other was a secret meant only for the two of you. All you needed was his warmth, his comfort, his mere presence, that would light up your shitty day like a damn light beam. He managed to take your breath away each time he looked at you with such gentleness and softness that sometimes you didn’t think you deserved it. You’ve found the world in each other. A purpose.

So what is Kyle going to do when you’re gone?

The morbid thought suddenly crosses your mind, while the man carefully sits you down on a worn lawn chair with a soft grunt, plopping down on the ground by your side, warm palm reassuringly resting on your thigh. Bringing you down to earth. Gusts of frosty wind brush through your hair, nipping at your cheeks, nose, and ears. You missed the outside, despite it being quite cold and unwelcoming this time of the year.

“I think the herd's close. See that dust?” Kyle taps you lightly on your leg and points towards the horizon. And true to his words, there is a fine dark line separating the sky, burning up in a mix of reds and yellows, from the earth. “They’re moving weird.”

“What does that mean?” you croak at Kyle, not able to peel your eyes from that sheet of gray, bunched-up dust that sat on the edge of the horizon like a shadow.

“Means if we’re lucky they’ll pass the school.” Kyle mutters, trying to reassure you, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

And then it clicks.

When he came back from the supply run you were nowhere to be found in the wind-torn building. There were no traces of you in the old cafeteria on the first floor where the two of you would heat up the canned food that your taste buds got used to over the long months the end of the world stretched over. Before you got bit.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach, so nauseous from the mere thought of something happening to you. Kyle fought himself not to double over, press his forehead against the wall and throw up everything you two had for breakfast until he feels the acidic burn on his tongue and cries his damn eyes out from the pain. You knew that the herd was getting closer, why did you have to disappear right now? You two were supposed to wait it out together, by each other’s side. What were you doing, and more importantly, what were you thinking? Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

Kyle felt the wall with an awkward, stiff motion of his hand, before putting his weight on it and sliding down, he felt like his legs could not hold him anymore. You barely had the strength to sit upright, where would you go in your condition?

The only place he could think of that was close enough for you to get to was the motor inn down the street. Of course.

The herd was already here. Kyle had no time to spare, he needed to act now, to get you and run away as fast as possible. He remembered there was a car in that old motor inn, so that could be your getaway plan, sure thing he could figure something out…and to get there…He can use that old trick that another group of survivors taught you two. “If you smell like them, they won’t notice you, simple as that. Just make sure not to bump into anyone, or they’ll get real friendly with you.” Of course. It was that easy. You never resorted to that trick, preferring to avoid or dispose of the undead on sight. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyle cringed at that sinking feeling in his stomach, but not at the thought of having to walk through the herd and probably be eaten alive, no. The possibility of you not being in that motor inn was what made that hollow pit inside of him grow. The fact that he might never see you again. Or that he would find you already gone.

He moves with calculated precision. Catch the undead’s attention, yellowish whites are dull under the daylight. Let it get close enough, it groans with each movement, joints snapping and clicking. Make the undead lose its balance, kick it in the knee, and the rotting leg almost falls off under the force that Kyle unintentionally applies. Destroy the brain, put a hunting knife right to the forehead, and let it thud to the ground, finally at rest. He’s thoughtlessly going through the motions, every step ingrained into his consciousness, almost like second nature to him. Rips through the stomach of the undead, black, resinous blood oozing out. Sinks his hands in the intestines, they smell so strong Kyle tears up and gags, hands shuffling around clothes caked with dirt and grime, swiping putrid, nasty mass all over himself. But it’s nothing. It’s alright. It will be worth it when he finds you.

After that, everything he remembers is under a thick blanket of haze, accompanied by the smell. You never get used to it. He feels nauseous, his insides twisting in worry, gnawing and biting at his heart like a terrified, desperate dog. His eyes grasp onto anything, but all Kyle sees is the sea of rotting flesh all around him, groans and moans of the undead so echoing in his ears loud all he wants is to tumble to the ground and end it all. He barely breathes with how tight his chest is squeezing his heart, it feels like in a split moment his insides will collapse onto themselves, capturing him in this meat cage. He has to remind himself that he’s not doing it for himself, he’s doing it for you, only for you. Kyle has to let his thoughts travel to your voice, to the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, to the frown between your brows when you slept in his arms just so he doesn’t go mad. Stares from decomposing, milky white eyes with yellows, blues, and reds here and there felt like stabs right through him, each could be the last if he gave himself away.

He could be grabbed by any of the half-rotten hands with sickly yellowish bones sticking out like spears of the cavemen, bitten, dragged away, or devoured. But he pressed on through the seemingly endless crowd of the undead. He would be lying if he said it didn’t affect him. That abandoned motor inn was like a beacon right now, but his imagination still ran wild, his hope growing more and more dim with each minute spent away from you. He didn’t feel like any hero. Kyle was scared. Mostly for you, but he could feel the tremble in his knees at the mere thought of any undead in the crowd recognizing him as an impostor. If that happens, he won’t be able to mutter even a single word. Rotten fingers will dig into his flesh, tearing it apart and Kyle will meet his end like this, on the damp ground, abandoned and scared out of his damn mind.

When Kyle pressed himself against the closed door of the motor inn, he finally could breathe in again. It wasn’t the time for a break, however. He still needed to find you. He wanders through the dusty, ransacked rooms in a daze, fixated on finding any traces you left, noticing the old rusty car in passing. The getaway plan. If the two of you are lucky enough. Footprints in the dust. They look new, and similar to the ones on the soles of your old boots. He follows. Your thin blanket lies forgotten on the stairs. Kyle practically flies up to the second floor, picking up the blanket, while he’s at it. More footprints in the dust, door to some old office is left ajar.

First, you felt the smell. Then you heard him cry out your name in surprise. And then you finally saw Kyle. He’s a blur of red, black, and brown. Covered head to toe with blood, guts, rotting flesh, and dirt, you presume. A sad, heartbreaking sight. Kyle, however, doesn’t mind it and immediately runs towards you, falling on the floor with a loud thud, and you’re sure he might’ve scraped his knees with how hard he landed. His arms cage you in a tight hug and you hear him let out a shaky exhale. Tears start to sting your eyes when you feel him pressing your head into his shoulder, stroking you with a gentle motion. You weren’t sure if he was trying to comfort you or reassure himself that you’re real, and not a fragment of his imagination. Regardless, you manage to reciprocate the hug, raising one of your arms and wrapping it around his back.

All of these days you saved up your energy for the last push. You needed to get away from him. You couldn’t trust yourself to remain near Kyle anymore. Any moment you could turn. You felt it in the way your bones ached with every gust of wind, how your blood boiled under your veins and your vision turned even more blurry. And in that case, you’d be a threat to Kyle, possibly getting him at his most vulnerable. It didn’t matter that you’d be long gone by then, you would still never forgive yourself if there was any possibility of it happening. Because, deep down you knew. No matter how skilled and ruthless Kyle was with handling the undead…he didn’t have it in him to bash your head in. So, you only had one choice to ensure his safety.

Yet he finds you. Here. You could feel your cheeks burn from being so angry at him, for his lack of acceptance that you were on the brink, and all it would take for you right now to fall into the abyss would be a light gust of wind or a slight shove. But you couldn’t blame him. You thought a lot about what you would do if the roles were reversed. The scenario brewed in your mind, haunting those short hours you were awake and trapping you in restless dreams.

You would want to live in illusion too.

“There you are.” You could practically feel something inside of you crack when you catch his smile beaming at you. Kyle just went to hell and back to get to you. And he still finds it in himself to smile at you, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders with hurried, but soothing movements. You were so weakened by the bite that you couldn’t even find any strength to go down the stairs and get the blanket when you dropped it. Humiliating. “Come on, we have to go, now, we can’t stay here.” He tries to scoop you up in a warm hug again, but you dig your heels into the ground. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he looks at you again, trying to catch what is wrong,

“No.” Kyle looks you over, eyes open wide, expression of confusion and sadness on his face. Of course, he doesn’t understand.

“You don’t…have anything on you. Then how, how did you even…” You didn’t have any grime on you at all, looking like you just walked through the herd of the undead without any preparation. But then his eyes trail lower and he sees it. Your left hand, cuffed to the rusty radiator. Suddenly the wave of terror cuts through him, like a fine, thin string through a block of fresh clay.

You came here to die.

“They stop paying attention to you once you’re far along enough. So…I guess that’s it.” He hated you for saying that. God, he hated you so much, he wanted to cling onto your body and suffocate you, arms wrapped around you in weak, pathetic attempts to shield you from any harm. “I…I don’t have any time left.” Kyle felt like he got punched in the gut. Air squeezed out of his lungs, wheezing in pain that he felt for you, because of you, chest aching, tearing apart, and baring his heart under the cage made of bones.

“No. No, no, no, no, you can’t say that! Why are you saying that?” And for the first time, since Kyle saw the bloodied, ragged teeth marks on your flesh, he broke down into minuscule, fragile pieces right in front of you. His voice trembled, frantic and exerted, refusing to believe you even dared to make peace with the inevitable. He grabs your shoulders firmly and his fingers dig into you so hard he can feel how cold you are through your clothes.

Key. He has to release you from the handcuffs. The herd was here, the way the floor vibrated under his feet, and the way gargled moans and sighs echoed outside made Kyle even more agitated. Where did you get those handcuffs anyway? It only takes a moment for him to remember. One of the supply runs that feels like a lifetime ago. Police station. Searching the bodies, or rather, what was left of them, for anything useful. You take out the handcuffs and show them to Kyle, telling him some kind of joke. He can’t remember what it was or the way you smiled, only that you made him laugh.

He wished instead of quiet rasping he could hear your laugh again.

“Where is the key from the handcuffs, where did you put it?” Kyle jumped to his feet and started looking over the room in a hurry, suffocated by the fear of losing you. He was wishing, hoping that you would show him where you hid the key, somewhere, anywhere, Kyle needed to throw you on his back and run right this moment.

“Fuck, listen to me, listen. To me.” you tried to snap him out of his delirium, with your harsh tone, freezing palms digging the bloodstains Kyle left on your blanket “You know what you have to do.” He shook his head wildly, looking at you like were mad for even suggesting something like this. “I don’t want to become one of them! You have to make sure I won’t come back.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?! I-” Kyle didn’t understand you. How can you say, make a request like this? Something was fundamentally wrong and the bite, the illness were to blame.

“Have you?” you interrupted, pouring all of your strength into this yelling match. You didn’t care anymore. You felt your fingers going numb, black, inky spots dancing on the edges of your vision, taunting you in their vicious dance macabre. You did not have time for his lame excuses and whatever it was he was trying to be right now. “I’m asking you one thing, and you can’t even do that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t feel the way tears burned your cheeks.

“Listen to me, please! I’m not putting a bullet in your head; do I look like a fucking murderer to you?” Kyle pinches his brow in frustration, not even able to look at you right now. Every single suggestion and comment from you stings, fucking hurts and tears him open once again. Because you’re talking nonsense. Absolute bullshit. And you don’t even realize it, he thinks, blinded by your sudden chase after death.

“I’m fucking dying and you’re worried about not being a murderer? Are you being fucking serious right now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, quite frankly. It was the only thing that you had asked of him. The only thing that you wanted. To be finally released. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Your body working against you, living with the constant threat of turning any second, massacring and desecrating Kyle’s corpse as a bloodthirsty, disgusting creature, that will have your face, your body, your hands, and your voice, but not anything that makes you – you. No memories. No love. No inner strength and compassion. Just hunger and urge to slaughter, destroy, and ravage everything in your sight.

“You know that’s not what I meant! Why are you doing this right now?” Kyle felt like he was about to collapse into himself from despair. He couldn’t just do what you were suggesting. And you knew it, yet you chose to ignore it and refuse any acceptance? You always listened to him, even if you didn’t quite agree. You always were patient with him. What’s gotten into you now, what happened?

You don’t have any more time. That’s what happened.

“Oh, so I run away, trying to keep you safe so you live another day and see another one of these stupid sunrises, cuff myself here just so I don’t harm anyone and you can’t even do what I’m asking you to?!” Your voice rises to a volume you didn’t even know you had in you right now, after dragging yourself through the imitation of your former life for a little less than a week. To think your suffering so far lasted less than a week, yet you were ready to end it all right this moment.

Because you could feel it in your bones. You were close.

“Well, tell me, what’s the point of me living if you’re dead?!” You can hear the way his voice breaks in the end. Desperate. Pleading.

The silence rings in your ears with how loud it is.

“I’m sorry.” You croak at him after a short while, eyes trained on the dirty floor. Kyle chuckles, the sound that you love so much, but then it’s followed by a muffled sob. He kneels in front of you once again and your eyes rise to meet his. You can’t help but think that he looks even more beautiful covered in rotting guts, with his eyes full of light and love for a doomed failure like you.

It’s almost impossible to breathe from how hard your heart aches. God, you love him so much. You want to take all the pain from him with you, into the vile, putrid abyss. Kyle takes your hands in his. You’re terrifyingly cold. And he’s too warm. You feel tears rising to your eyes, prickling at them, as you fail at your attempts not to break down right now.

“I can’t stay mad at you when you make that face.” Kyle says with a small laugh that breaks into dry sobs, as his shoulders shudder violently with every single one, before he clings onto you, seeking comfort and reassurance, that you’ll be here. With him.

His embrace feels suffocating. It’s so tight you think any more pressure from him will break your bones into yellowish sharp daggers and fine dust. And you’d forgive Kyle if that happened. You’d forgive him for anything, quite frankly. Funny, how now you have the answer to what you would do if he was the one turning. You’d let him devour you wholly, in the ultimate show of love. You’d let him bite into you, whatever he wanted – neck, arm, a leg, he could have. You’d lay in the pool of your blood, muffling your pained cries by stuffing that worn blanket into your mouth. You’d slowly slip away into oblivion, letting your undead beloved gnaw on your bones and taste the love that would seep out of your flesh. You would probably turn a lot faster if that happened too. And then you’d be together for eternity. You knew Kyle always wanted you two to be together. Both in life and in death.

“I’ll wait for you. I promise.” You barely manage to squeeze a smile out of yourself to comfort Kyle, feeling your strength leaving you. Succumbing to the weakness that spread a dull ache over your body, to that festering rot inside of you, that was finally overtaking. You felt cold, thin digits of terror sink right through your chest, sweat prickling once again on your forehead and temples. There was no use clinging unto something that was unsalvageable. Your body and your mind were beyond repair. You knew it. Only he kept you here.

“Please…don’t leave me.” Kyle couldn’t feel anything besides the pain and hot needles jabbing his eyes. Your touch almost felt unreal, how weak, subtle it was. He tore away from you only for a moment, bloody palms cupping your face. His lips pressed against yours in a quick, feverish kiss, and even more pecks like this followed – to your forehead, eyelids, corners of your mouth, and nose. As if this would save you from inevitably losing the remains of your strength. As if you weren’t clinging to your last seconds with him as it is. “Please…please.” He whispered against your skin. His tears glittered like gemstones in the dim glow of the sunset. Kyle looked so beautiful like this. Yours.

He missed the moment when he stopped feeling short, warm breaths on his neck and your body started to get cooler to the touch. But he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. A little more time, that’s all he needed. So, he lays your head across his lap, carefully, gently. Like he’s trying not to wake you up from a peaceful dream about places far better than this world. Kyle desperately tries to find that strength to make sure you won’t come back, to grant your last wish, but he just…he can’t. Now when you were right here, beside him, getting your well-deserved rest.

But you started stirring back to life unexpectedly, and just when Kyle wanted to say something, he realized, that it wasn’t quite you. The glazed-over eyes with a milky white cloud over them looked right through him, the blood that was dripping down from your nose, ears, eyes, and mouth after your brain finally shut off from the illness. The strained rasp, full of pain and hands that started grabbing and clawing at Kyle with crooked fingers, contorted into bizarre figures.

Kyle’s heart leaped down to his feet again in fear and he forced himself to push away your undead form, reaching out to him, pleading for something he no longer understood, as he crawled away, still facing whatever you turned into. If his heart wasn’t pumping blood through his body as fast he would’ve felt the small cuts from scraping his hands on the dirty floor. But his eyes were on what was left of you.

There were no traces of what he was searching for in this hollow shell, stolen from his love, stolen from you. Crimson trickling down from the mouth, the creature in your shape bares its bloody teeth and lets out a gargled moan, stretching the trembling hand towards him, demanding flesh, demanding sacrifice. And in Kyle’s mind, this isn’t you. This just can’t be. Absolutely not.

Kyle thought about the way you held him in your arms, while he gripped his shoulders in a tight hug. He thought of the way your thumb brushed over his knuckles. His thoughts traveled to the distant past, when you met him years ago in that summer camp, even before the world started rotting, only to be reborn a sick copy of itself. He remembered your smile when you sat near countless bonfires. The way fire played in your eyes. Your old leather jacket, the tent in your old survivor camp, the older man with mutton chops.

It wasn’t long before a bullet was between his fingers, being drilled by his sharp eyes. Kyle sat there, silent, eyes trained on the gun in his hand, unable to even look at your cuffed undead. Contemplating. Letting his mind stir around, thoughts sticking to the inside of his skull, brewing and bubbling there, like heavy resin. Kyle’s heart sent waves of dull, ringing ache all over his body. His eyes were on fire, burning and raw from tears.

Nothing made sense anymore. Kyle’s endless search through his mind landed on another memory again. Survivor camp in the forest. Ring of mountains to the west. A woman with dark, brown eyes and a shaved head.

“Turning is not the end. They still harbor the memories of their former selves. They’re just prisoners in their own bodies. I know that it’s not the end for them, it can’t be.”

Right now, Kyle would’ve clung to any lie that would explain to him your state. He would’ve believed any tale. You can’t just be gone in an instant, just shedding all that made you yourself like a snake sheds its skin, or a bird picks out the old feathers. How could he ever accept that you were gone, like a puff of smoke on the wind, leaving no visible trace, only the gaping, bloody hole in his heart and years’ worth of memories in his head?

All he ever wanted was to be with you. In life and death.

A minute passes. Another one follows.

A single gunshot echoes through the valley, drowned out by the rumble of the herd.

Taglist - @mockerycrow, @stridersdiner

check out my other fics or send me a request/comment!

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shina913 · 1 year

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Stalemate, Part 1 | MYG

Stalemate (Mini-series)

Definition: (1) Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check. (2) any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock

Pairing: Woodworker!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: breakup!AU; toxic relationships; angst; fluff; smut; heavy drama

Summary: "The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

Word count: 8.9K+ words

Warnings (more written in individual chapters): problematic exes; relationship insecurities; alcohol consumption; cussing; miscommunication; past infidelity (reader had an affair with a married man but not detailed); vulnerable confessions; protected sex; oral sex (F-receiving); breast/nipple play; dirty talk; jealousy; multiple orgasms; verbal confrontation; a terrible joke about wood 😑

A/N: Phew! What a way to break my month-long writing drought/limbo...jumping from one unfinished WIP to another. As I mentioned on the series masterlist, this is a nonlinear story so you'll see multiple time jumps. I tried to map out the timeline using "Now" and "Then" headings so I hope that helps!

I was also going to straight-shot this but Part 2 is still missing a couple of scenes so I hope to post that in the next day or two. Until then, here's some smangsty-angst!

Now…

Yoongi pushes the button of his key fob to lock his car then walks across the street toward an alleyway. Over a decade ago, this area, at this time of night was always questionable at best. But the neighborhood was changing and old warehouses like these were being converted into some tech start-up office, a pop-up restaurant, or sometimes, the occasional modern art gallery.

“Yoongi!”

His friend, Namjoon’s voice boomed through the loud chatter and house music. He rushes to greet him by the entrance with a hug.

“Hey, glad you could come out tonight!”

Yoongi scans the surroundings and nods in approval. He gasps, “Wow–this looks great, Joon!”

“Thanks, man. Do you like how we styled all of the light fixtures?”

Both men look up at the ceiling and marvel at the decor. “I think I might run out of adjectives tonight,” Yoongi laughs. “I love what you did with them. They look awesome!”

“Great to be friends with the supplier, huh?” Namjoon grinned, elbowing Yoongi playfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi answers wryly. “Only for you, Namjoonah.”

“Listen, I’d love to hang out and chat but there’s a lot of people here tonight. Lots of people to rub shoulders with, you know?”

“Aish, go ahead, man–it’s your night. I’ll be fine,” Yoongi smiles.

“Alright well, there’s an open bar set up in the patio and we’ve got people walking around with finger-foods. Just help yourself and have fun, yeah?”

After Namjoon walks away, Yoongi starts to walk deeper into the building and sees doors leading to an outdoor area to where a makeshift bar is set up. While he waits for the bartender to bring him his drink, he turns around to admire his friend’s place once more.

It had been a while since Yoongi had gone out on a weekend–by choice. He mostly preferred to stay in and be a recluse or occupy his time by working.

“Sir, your drink?”

Yoongi turns back toward the bar to take his beer. “Thanks,” he nods at the bartender, then drops a dollar in the tip jar.

As he starts to turn and walk away, he pauses while his vision lands on one corner, next to one of the multiple mobile sculptures installed in the space.

He watched from a distance as you carefully gazed at the exhibit, trying to find some deeper meaning or metaphor that it was trying to convey. Once you were ready to move onto another section of the gallery, your breath catches–and your eyes lock.

Then...

“Dude, where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” Yoongi grumbled while he stood in a quiet corner to make a call. He’d been at the bar waiting for his friend, Namjoon to show up. It’s been a stressful week for him at work and he wanted to unwind and have a few drinks.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I sort of…ran into someone and now we’re talking about heading to her place–”

“Her?” Yoongi repeated, “Wha–you already hooked up with some chick?”

“I mean, I don’t know how it will turn out yet, Yoongi,” he chuckled on the other line. “We’re just talking. But if you want, I can still meet you? It’s just going to take me a little while,” Namjoon sputtered.

Yoongi groaned, knowing full well that once Namjoon had been roped in, it would be like trying to pull him out of quicksand. “You know what bro–just…don’t worry about it,” he concedes.

“A-are you sure? I could still–”

“It’s cool, Namjoonie. We’ll link up next time. Have a good night.” He signs off as sincerely as possible before hanging up.

Yoongi huffed, downed the rest of his beer then trudged back over to the bar. He motions to the bartender, who moved closer so he could place another drink order.

“Can I get a scotch, three fingers, no ice?”

******

It’s nearly 10:30 at night and you and your friend, Hyejin were still feeling the club’s vibe. It was a long weekend and you were intent on making a casual hookup or two.

“Anyway…we decided that things weren’t working out,” Hyejin shrugs. “We’re good though.”

You eyed her suspiciously. “Oh sure,” you say sarcastically, “Is that why you’re still fucking him?”

She giggled, clearly not planning on denying it. “I mean, he’s a nice guy and we started out as fuck-buddies…” she trailed off.

You rolled your eyes. “You need to start setting better boundaries, girl,” you say before taking a sip of your drink.

She shrugged, “I’m just living life. You should try it sometime!”

After you snort at her comment, she nudges your arm, bobbing her head toward the bar’s direction. “He looks yummy,” she remarks. You turn your head and made a quick assessment of the lonely patron she was gesturing at.

To your surprise, he turns his head in your direction. You met his gaze for a brief moment before he hastily turned away.

“He’s hot but a little too broody-looking,” you say dismissively even though you felt a flutter in the pit of your belly.

“So? You know what they say about those quiet, broody types…” Hyejin leans into your ear and whispers, “They’re freaks in the sheets!”

Your eyebrows knitted comically at her. “Who the hell said that?”

She clicked her teeth. “Me, duh!” She threw her head back in laughter, the music drowning out her drunken cackles. “Go get him–or I will,” she threatens.

Just then, he glances in your direction once more. But he’s unnerved by you and Hyejin staring straight at him so he turns away and looks down at his phone screen instead.

“I think he looked at me,” Hyejin said.

“Shut up, he looked at me!”

“You said he was too broody–”

“That didn’t mean that I was disinterested,” you cocked a warning eyebrow at her..

She laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She dared.

You started to back away from her and grinned. “Slow your roll, babe…I’m going!”

You turned away from her and walked up to your target, his shoulders hunched over while he scrolled through his phone and alternately took a sip of his drink.

You ordered yourself a cocktail even though you technically already had one that you conveniently left behind where you previously stood.

You parked yourself on the seat next to him, pretending to scroll through your own phone while you gather up the courage. You see him from your peripheral view sneaking more glances at you.

When the bartender brings you your drink, the hottie to your left speaks out.

“Put her drink on my tab.”

The bartender’s eyebrow quirked. He looked at you then back at him. He gave him a small smile, nodded in acknowledgment, and walked away. You took it as your cue to finally start a conversation.

“Thanks, that’s nice of you,” you said, swiveling your seat in his direction, crossing your leg over the other.

“You’re welcome.”

The bartender serves your drink. As you pick it up, you raised your glass toward him. “Geonbae.”

“Geonbae,” he says as he raised his glass to tap it against yours.

After you both take a sip, you ask him straight away, “Are you here with anybody?” You were not wasting any more precious time.

“Well, I was waiting for a friend but he ditched me so I’m on my own tonight.”

“Oh no,” you feigned regret. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep you company for a bit? It’s the least I can do to thank you for this drink.”

Your boldness made him smile. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. I’m YN.” He reached out for a handshake but you gave him a hug instead. It takes him by surprise but it’s a welcome one.

******

“So, you build furniture?”

“Yep. I design them and I build them,” he explains while you scroll through his company’s social media page.

“By yourself?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, if I can’t find reliable help,” he remarks, his laugh growing louder. “I mean, I do the designs by myself but I usually have a team who helps me with the production and assembly. I have my own workshop.”

“Wow,” you marveled and continued to scroll through his feed. “Your work is really good–and unique!”

“Thank you. I work with a lot of local suppliers–small businesses as well, like mine. It’s a great community,” he explains. “And by the way, your work looks great, too,” he says while he scrolls through your own social media feed.

“Oh, gosh–most of my moodboards are from random Pinterest concepts,” you respond.

“Ehh…I think you’re being too modest.” He zeroes in on a recent contract–one that you were really proud of. It was for a local restaurant chain that used to have a bland color palette and aesthetic until they hired you to liven it up for their first location expansion. Three locations later, they’ve been one of your most lucrative clients.

“You have a great eye,” he says before handing your phone back to you. You smile at his compliment while you return his phone.

“If you think my work is good, we should get together sometime.”

His eyebrow quirks at your remark, but he holds back his response thinking you might have misspoken. You smile at him and after taking a sip of your drink you say, “You know, I’m always looking into connecting with new vendors to partner with.”

He chuckled. “You think we can be partners?”

“Why not? I see a lot of potential for us. I work in design and you are a potential supplier...what’s the worst that can happen?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Our visions might not line up,” he responds with a hint of doubt.

You shrug. “Ever heard of compromising?”

He chuckled softly. “My work tends to come off too old-fashioned to some. It takes a different kind of audience.”

“So? Sometimes all it takes is a dash of old-fashioned,” you smile, raising your glass containing the same drink.

“Really?”

You lift a shoulder. “You need a little bitterness to balance the sweetness out.” You giggle at the cheesiness of that line.

“Point taken,” he says with a gummy smile, holding back his laughter.

******

The last thing you remember was Yoongi asking if you wanted to go to his place or yours–before everything went dark.

Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling.

As you adjust to the brightness of the room, you instinctively reach over by the nightstand to retrieve your phone to check for the time. It was a quarter past 8AM…and you were home…alone, as it seems when your head whips around to see the other side empty.

What happened?

You slowly pad your way into your living room. Maybe he was just trying to be polite and crashed on the couch.

Except, he wasn’t.

Did he just drop you off and leave? You clutch at your throbbing forehead. I’m getting too old for this shit, you thought to yourself. Still, you were worried about what happened to Yoongi.

You pull his number from your phone–at least, you think that you have his number.

“Aha,” you gasped when you find his name in your contacts list.

You realized it might still be too early but you thought you could just give him a call and leave him a voicemail just to make sure that he got home safely.

You open up your blinds to let get some more daylight in the room. By some twisted way, you found that it helped with your hangover.

While the other line trills, something catches your eye when you look out the window.

“Oh shit–” you say under your breath.

******

You approach his car and unsure whether to knock or let him be. He looked exhausted but you couldn’t just leave him out here.

You tapped your knuckles against the window and he immediately flinched. He looks around, seemingly surprised at his surroundings until his eyes land on you.

You gesture to open his door. When he does, you ask him, “Good morning. Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

******

He declines at first but you managed to convince him to come in. After a few sips of coffee, he insisted on cooking you breakfast.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet and didn’t have much in your fridge except for some eggs and cheese. You had a couple of slices of bread in the pantry so he makes the most out of it. He is appreciative of the effort and continues to tell you that you didn’t need to go out of your way.

“So, do you always make breakfast for girls you pick up from the club?” You joke.

“Not really,” he laughs. “I also don’t fall asleep in my car after I’ve dropped them off.”

“You know you were welcome to sleep on the bed or the couch,” you say casually. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Nah, you were passed out and I didn’t want you to think that I was taking advantage of the situation or anything like that,” he reasons.

You smiled at how respectful and thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that. And…thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.”

******

Days later...

“Bro, are you sure you can meet the deadline?”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon, then scratched the back of his neck to think before he gave him an answer. He was feeling stressed with this client because they were fussy about the design. It took at least a dozen iterations of the collection before they finally approved it.

The deadline was fast approaching and Yoongi had fallen behind with the work. He’d have to pay his guys overtime and maybe even work on some of the pieces himself in the evenings to cover more ground.

“Tell them not to worry. Besides, when have I ever missed a delivery date for them?” Yoongi walks away and back into the workshop to check on how the other projects were progressing.

Namjoon nodded at Yoongi’s logic. No matter how stressful it got for him, Yoongi always managed to deliver the goods, and clients were satisfied each and every time. ”Alright, I’ll let them know.” He types a text to the client and sends Yoongi’s response.

After sending it off, he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “Hey, so–how’d you make out last weekend? Are we cool?”

The question seems to take Yoongi by surprise. “Huh? Why wouldn’t we be?”

Namjoon laughed. “Bro, this is me apologizing for abandoning you for a girl.”

“Oh.” Yoongi suddenly recalls the events leading up to how the night ended. “Uhm–nah, we’re cool. Besides, I did just fine,” he adds casually.

His friend’s mouth spread into a Cheshire cat grin. “Oof–you hooked up, didn’t you?”

Yoongi’s face scrunched in confusion. “Naaww…”

His laughter boomed from his chest. “Bro, I know you’re lying! Lemme see! Is she on social media?”

Yoongi clicked his teeth and groaned. “It wasn’t even like that.”

“So you did meet someone!”

He sighed, exasperated with his friend’s teasing. “Fine, I did. But nothing happened! We just hung out and I took her home.”

Unconvinced, Namjoon’s voice rose a few octaves. ”Whaaatt? Wait–so this the first girl you’ve hooked up with since–”

Yoongi waved his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from finishing his thought. “For the last time–she and I did not hook up,” he clarifies firmly. “We just had a nice conversation over a few drinks. Then I drove her back to her place…where I made her breakfast.”

Namjoon doubles over in laughter. “And you’re telling me that nothing happened?”

“Swear to god! After giving me her address, she fell asleep on the way there and I just carried her in. I slept in my car.”

“Wow…” Namjoon breathes out. “Look at you being all chivalrous!”

Yoong snorted at the comment.

“So–are you gonna see her again or what?”

Before he could answer, Namjoon’s phone buzzed with a text from their client. He reads the message to Yoongi. “She asked if you can squeeze in a prototype for barstools?”

“Aish,” Yoongi says under his breath. “I mean…that technically wasn’t even…” he stops short. Instead of arguing, he drags out a sigh and relents. “You know what, fine. Tell her I’ll include it and bill her later.”

Namjoon types up Yoongi’s response, to which the client replies almost instantaneously. “Is he absolutely sure?” He read the text out loud, a wry look on his face.

Yoongi looked up at his friend and let out a grunt of annoyance. “Just fucking tell her ‘yes’.”

Namjoon nods and sends the response again. “I don’t know why I need to be your middleman here–”

“Well, you brokered this deal. And from the jump, they preferred to communicate this way, so…” he trailed off. After ensuring some quality control on his employee’s work, Yoongi walks back into his living space and flops himself onto the sofa. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Namjoon walks toward his friend and sits on the adjacent seat. “Is that really all there is to it?” His voice had a hint of concern and worry for his friend.

Yoongi turned his head and opened one eye to look at him.

“It’s been over a year. She’s moved on–”

“Clearly,” Yoongi deadpanned before closing his eye again.

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well…aren’t you back in the dating scene? Can’t we all be grownups here?”

He let out a deep sigh, then opened his eyes again to dig his phone out of his back pocket. He didn’t think Namjoon’s question required an answer so he just scrolls through his screen.

Talking about his past relationship was a sore subject…even for Yoongi, whom his other friends thought to be typically aloof about these kinds of things. But sometimes, whatever one showed on the outside actually ran much deeper on the inside.

Shrugging, Namjoon takes Yoongi’s reticence as his cue to leave.

When the door shuts, Yoongi pauses his scrolling through his social media feed as his vision lands on a particular post. Damn algorithms got him again. He clicks on the account’s page and follows it.

Next, he types up a message and then hits ‘send.’

******

After work, you head over to a pub close to your office. You offered to meet Yoongi halfway from wherever he was coming from but said that he was happy to head over closer to where you were at.

He was already at the bar when you walked in, looking more relaxed than when you first saw him over the weekend. You weren’t much for guys with long hair but something about his hair being pulled back in a half-up/half-down bun became a contributing factor that held your attention.

You greet him with a hug, which he reciprocates. He asks what you want to drink. You glance at his whisky and decide to order an old-fashioned.

“You know, when you texted me this afternoon, I was a little surprised.”

“And why’s that?” He asks you.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you thought our night ended kind of weird.” You sat on the stool next to him, your legs crossed in his direction while you turned your glass on the bar’s surface with your fingers.

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I don't remember having a night like that…ever, I think?” Your eyes drift to his fingers that dance over the rim of his glass of whisky.

“Is that because you always score?”

He caught his lower lip with his teeth and inhaled. “I’ll tell you right now, if my best friend were here, he’d already fallen off his chair laughing.”

His comment made your eyebrows lift in surprise. You both took sips of your drinks. After you swallow, you ask, “On that note, how many serious relationships have you had?”

He nearly chokes on his drink, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, we’re at that level of comfort now?”

You lifted a shoulder. “Seemed like the conversation was headed there anyway. Might as well get there sooner!”

He laughs, then pauses to consider his answer. “I’ve had one.”

“One? That’s it?” You were incredulous. You found him attractive–and not in a novel way. He spoke calmly and even sagely at times. A good conversation these days was rare and often overlooked or easily forgotten. But he was someone you enjoyed talking to...and someone you hadn’t been able to get out of your mind in the last few days.

“Yeah. Just the one,” he replies.

“Wow…”

“Yep. We were going to get married and everything. But,” he let out a sharp breath, “She changed her mind.” He sighed, picked up his glass, and swirled the liquid in it. “She broke it off the day before…told me she couldn’t go through with it.”

You watched him throw his head back and polish off the rest of his drink. Your heart hurts for him and you didn’t have a smartass joke to say to lighten the mood.

“Anyway!” He sighed deeply, desperate for a subject change. “That was a long time ago. It’s all done and over with. She’s off doing her own thing, I’m doing mine. What about you? How many serious relationships have you been in?”

“Nine.”

His eyes widened. “Nine? Those were all serious?” He asks carefully.

“Yes,” you say confidently. “Why is that hard for you to believe?”

He scoffed. “I mean…you don’t look that old and you’ve been in nine serious relationships?”

“What does my age have to do with it?” You laughed.

“Well…usually, relationships span years–”

“That’s what you think,” you countered. “You think that in order for a relationship to be considered serious is the amount of time you’ve been with that person. I mean, couldn’t it just be the depth of connection with that person?”

That stopped him in his tracks. He let that thought sink in, then nodded gently. Meanwhile, you’re watching his facial expressions–the wheels turning in his head.

“I can still feel you silently judging me,” you chuckle.

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I’m certainly in no place to judge. You’re an adult, free to make your own choices. Besides, we’ve only just met.”

You smiled. “Fair point.”

“Although…I’m curious, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head and prompted him to continue.

“Out of all of those relationships, which one was your worst heartbreak?”

“Damn!” You laughed. “And here you are questioning whether we’ve known each other long enough to discuss these things?”

You both laugh at the thought. When you calm down, he says, “Touché. I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer.”

“It’s fine, I’ll answer.” You downed the rest of your drink and turned your attention back to him. “The one that really did a number on me was my last relationship. We were together for about six months…” You paused to clear your throat, “until I found out that he was married.”

“Married? So you were someone’s mistress?”

“Unknowingly!” You contest. “Besides, I ended it as soon as I found out. I didn’t want to get tangled up in all that.” You winced at the memory. Not your finest moment but since then, you tried to be more vigilant about red flags.

“Well, like I said–it’s all in the past, right? The point is, we both got our hearts broken. End of story.”

You nodded in agreement before he switches gears. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Repeating the whole process. You know, as someone who’s been in all of these relationships…don’t you ever get tired of starting from scratch every time? The whole getting to know each other, falling in love…then being faced with the possibility of things not working out.”

“I wonder about people who are afraid to put themselves out there again after getting hurt by love. I really don’t get that,” you say in jest.

He shrugs. “Who likes getting hurt? That’s not something rational people consciously wish for themselves.”

You sighed wistfully at the thought. “You know, I never understood why some people think of it that way. You know, trying to rationalize falling in love. Isn’t that counterintuitive? Love in itself is all about being spontaneous, irrational…reckless, even. The feeling of being completely wrapped up in the emotion and the moment–all because of one person. That includes all the fear, uncertainties…even the possibility of getting hurt. The experience of love isn’t complete without all that.”

He chuckled with his gummy grin. “Sounds like a huge gamble to me.”

“But if you never take that gamble, how will you ever experience the joy of winning big? How would you ever know what your heart is capable of taking if you’re always afraid of losing?”

He eyed you for a few seconds, letting your words sink in. “So you’re telling me that you’re willing to go through what could possibly be twice the amount of hurt–just to fall in love again?”

“Absolutely!” You declared with confidence.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked him straight in the eye. “I mean…you’re not thinking of hurting me, are you?” You ask him cheekily.

His eyebrow quirked in response. “Y-you’re asking me?” He chuckled nervously.

“Calm down! It’s just a rhetorical question,” you giggled.

You both laugh it off. Afterward, he pursed his lips and eyed you again. “But just so we’re clear…I don’t plan on it.”

His answer made your heart skip. You didn’t have any smart-ass quips to lob back at him.

After what seems to be an eternity of staring at each other in tense silence, he asks, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

******

He showed you around his modest place, where he had a full and, judging by the fresh sawdust on the tables, actively functional workshop. It was attached to a one-bedroom living space with a kitchen, a cozy living room, and a full bathroom. But by your assessment, it looked more like the living space was attached to the workshop.

“You sleep where you work?” You ask while looking at the work surface next to you.

He notices you looking at it so he leans over to swipe the sawdust off the table. “I didn’t see the point of going back and forth between places.”

“Yeah but it must be hard to live where you work and work where you live?”

He chuckles. “On the contrary, it’s more convenient for me. When I’m tired, I just lay on the couch. If I have trouble sleeping, I just come over here and tinker with stuff.”

You eyed him silently as he stood over the table, his hands spread wide while he supported his weight on them.

“I don’t know if I can do that. I need clear boundaries.”

“Don’t you bring work home from time to time?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes, if I’m on a tight schedule. But I try not to do it if I can help it. I prefer the idea of drawing that line where, once I walk out that door, that’s it. I’ll come back to it in the morning. Once I’m off work, I’m off work.”

He hummed. “That’s fair.”

You carefully move a small container of wood stain to the side then hop up on the table. After giving his studio another once-over, you turn your attention to him.

“What are you currently working on?”

He seems hesitant at first but decides to share a little bit. “I’m…trying to create a prototype for this light fixture,” he says vaguely.

“Really? Can I see?”

He chuckles, then paused to check if you were actually serious about looking at his designs. When your expression remained unchanged, he decides to reach past you to pull his sketchbook toward him. He flips through a few pages until he lands on a specific one.

The page has a rough sketch of a multi-tiered looking chandelier with what looked like wooden fringes, instead of what would typically be glass or crystal.

“So, I’m trying to focus on more natural materials like rattan, bamboo…I don’t know, maybe my friend, Namjoon, has been hanging around my studio too much,” he says in jest.

Your fingers brush the pencil lines on the page. His ideas were beautiful. They were modern yet had an old-world feel to them. His pieces didn’t look like something that was mass-produced. Each one had its own personality but all of them were crafted with artisanal care.

“You think you could work with these?” He asks quietly, his face an inch away from you.

“Oh, definitely,” you smiled. “My mind’s already buzzing with ideas.”

He looks down from your eyes to your mouth…then back up to your eyes again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper then take in his scent. “You smell nice. What is that?”

“Uhm, I don’t know…pine?” He answers before you close the gap between you to kiss him. You taste faint traces of whisky and citrus flavors in his mouth. His lips were soft and melded into yours, making you sigh into him. His kiss was as calm and gentle as his usual demeanor.

He presses his body closer to yours, making you tilt backward on the work table, spilling the can of wood stain on you. You gasp, startled at the feel of it on the side of your leg, and hastily hop off the surface.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” he says.

“I-it’s okay,” you stammer, grabbing onto your dress to assess the damage.

“No, it’s not. I ruined your dress.”

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you say nonchalantly. “I can take it to the cleaners…” You inspect the stain while he goes to grab a paper towel. Who were you kidding? This was varnish. The dress itself was cheap but it was beyond salvageable.

You looked up to see him hovering over you. “Or we could just take it off?”

With his breath fanning your face, you fist at his shirt and pull him into you again. This time, his lips didn’t feel tentative–they were more ardent…hungrier. He lifts you off the worktable and you both stagger out of the workshop and toward his living space. The closest comfortable surface was couch so he lowers you both there.

You reach back to lower the zipper of your dress while he pulls his shirt off. When he tosses it to the side, helps you undress the rest of the way through.

His fingers laced around the back of your neck urging you closer to him. He moved from your mouth down to your neck, gently sucking the skin on your collarbone.

You felt a gush of moisture soak through you…you let go of every ounce of control that you hung onto because were desperate for him now.

With one swift move, he unclasps your bra and moves his mouth to your chest while he lowered you further until your head hit the armrest.

Your breath hitches as he wraps his plush lips around an aching nipple. You swore right then that you’d orgasm from the feeling alone…but he was just getting started.

You reach between both of you and undo the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down.

He hooks his fingers onto your panties and you arch your back so he can slide them off. You were completely bare for him now, hypnotized by his desire for you at this moment.

You kept your eyes at him, unable to look away as pulls your legs apart and gave your inner thighs gentle kisses. He locked eyes with you and kept contact while you watched him sink his mouth onto your cleft.

You sucked in a harsh breath while he tongued you. You felt every lick and every suction of his mouth onto your moist, swollen lips.

Your walls clenched achingly at nothing while he continued to eat you out. Your breath began to stutter as you shamelessly bucked your hips against his mouth, desperate for a release.

You felt him dip two fingers into you…pulling them in and out lazily while his tongue fluttered over your clit.

Your body bowed when he alternated licking and sucking at your clit. It wasn’t long before your orgasm built up to a fever pitch. Your throat tightened, desperately trying to suck in air while your body tensed.

“Aaahh…gonna cum–fuck…”

You cried out hoarsely further as he got his last two licks in before you came down from your high. You were about to pass out from the pleasure when you saw him fish out a foil packet from his wallet.

You sat yourself up, meeting him halfway as he lined himself up between your thighs. You kissed him senselessly, your tongue fighting his for control.

Your mouth stilled as you felt him slowly enter you. You sucked in another breath while you felt that delicious stretch.

He urged you to lay back down while he pushed the rest of his length into you.

“Fuh…,” was all you managed to breathe out while your eyes rolled to the back of your head as shivers coursed through your body.

You looked back at him, a pained look on his face from how tight you were for him. You gave him a small nod of assurance to let him know that you were okay.

He started to move his hips slowly until he found a consistent rhythm.

He lowered himself further against your body and wrapped your leg around his waist. He thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace while your core tightened further around him along with another orgasm building up.

“Fuck, YN…feel so good,” he choked out in between breaths. He sealed his mouth onto yours, moaning in pleasure.

Your nails raked his back–from his shoulders and down to his hips that relentlessly railed into you.

“Fuck, don’t stop…don’t stop…” you gasped as you felt yourself edge closer to another orgasm.

Your muscles clenched around his cock while he repeatedly hit you deep into your core. You buck your hips into him, meeting him at every thrust while you both moan into each other’s mouths.

The next thing you knew, he had tipped you over the edge again.

His palms cup your ass, raising your hips to him. A few more thrusts and he was arching his back, pressing his forehead to yours as his own climax coursed through him.

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee, that he brought to you, bedside.

******

After that night, you spent many more going back and forth between his place and yours.

You went about both your days but talked all the time. You always made time to see each other–he’d work around your schedule and you’d work around his. Things were going so well and stress-free.

You didn’t feel the need to change the way you were around him and neither did he. Everything just came naturally to both of you.

Some days, you were unaware of how much time you spent together. Some weekends, you would just laze around and never leave the room. It was bliss.

“Jagiii!” You yell out from his bedroom, hoping he’d hear from the loud, grinding noise of his industrial sander.

He turns the machine off, flips his visor up, and pulls his earplugs out. “Yeah?” he bellowed from his workshop.

“Could I just have five minutes for a phone call?”

He gestures to his workshop assistant, telling him that he can take a break. “Alright, we’ll take five!” he says.

“You’re the best! Love you!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“Just put in on my tab, jagiya,” you tease back.

******

Weeks later, you finally signed a lease for your new condo. Yoongi was on hand to help you move and get settled. You’d gone back and forth your old place to pick up smaller things that you didn’t load up in the big truck. The most important things were your larger furniture anyway.

Yoongi was tinkering with the internet connection in the second bedroom while you stood quietly in the midst of the expansive space, surrounded by boxes. It was getting dark out but you hadn’t installed your blinds yet so the moonlight illuminated the room. You stared out the window and into the glittering city lights.

“Why are you standing out here in the dark?” Yoongi flicks the light switch on.

“No, no–turn it back off.” He does so tentatively. “Is everything okay?” He approaches you carefully from behind, wrapping his arms around you. You lean your head back against him and sighed. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Just…trying to take it all in as everything calms down again.”

“Are you tired?” He nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod.

“Yeah, I can smell the dried sweat from your forehead,” he says before you poke him in his side, making him laugh out loud.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, grabbing onto your waist and turning you around to face him. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” You plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for helping me today.”

“Of course. Even if you didn’t ask me to, I still would have done it.”

“I know but this is a huge deal for me. After all these years of hard work, I’m finally upgrading my home.”

“That’s great. I’m very proud of you for doing that. And you know,” he glances past your shoulder and jerks his chin at your windows. “I can totally make you some custom blinds, too. None of that plastic, vinyl shit. I can use bamboo so it’s cooling but also great for insulation. Very sustainable, too.”

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Mmm…keep talking eco-friendly to me, Mr. Min…”

“Well…” he brushes his lips against yours, “If you like that, wait ‘til you hear about the reclaimed wood we’re using for this new commission.”

You threw your head back and moaned. “Ooh…yes…keep going.”

Chuckling, he dipped his head and leaves a trail of kisses down your exposed throat. “Why don’t we take this back in the bedroom and I can show you what else we can do with some wood.”

You start cackling at his comment and before you know it, he picks you up off your feet and you stumble into your room and stayed there until the sun came up.

Now…

In a panic, Yoongi heads to one corner of the gallery to search for his friend. “Namjoonah!”

Namjoon’s head whips around to see Yoongi headed for him. He excuses himself from the current conversation he was having. “Hey, Yoongi–”

Immediately, Yoongi pulls Namjoon right by the bathrooms to scold him. “Bro, that’s not cool. I wish you told me that YN was going to be here.”

“If I had told you, would you have come out tonight?”

Yoongi scoffed, “Of course, I still would have,” his voice went up a higher register, making Namjoon snicker. “I just…I wish you would have given me a warning so I could have been, I don’t know, better prepared!”

“Prepared for what? You guys have been broken up for years. Besides, you’ve always known that she and Hyejin are friends. You should have at least expected her to be here so I don’t know why you’re all bothered. Unless of course you not over her yet?”

Yoongi remains adamant. “Dude, of course, I’m over her! I just got caught off-guard, that’s all.”

“Are you sure you’re not still thinking about her?”

“Fuck no! Are you kidding? You know I can’t stand her! She’s too loud, a terrible cook…not to mention that she has way too much drama in her life.”

Namjoon snorted. “And you didn’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head dismissively. “Whatever, dude–I’m just not all about that. My new motto in life is to stay drama-free, you know?”

He gives Yoongi a skeptical smile. Just then, the bathroom door opens behind them.

The color from Yoongi’s face drains as he gets the shock of his life when he sees you emerge.

You stood there smirking while Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged looks.

“Uh, sorry, guys–I think I need to use the bathroom.” Namjoon says, stifling a laugh while he cuts in between you two and shuts the door.

Yoongi remained standing in awkward silence, trying to will the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I thought you liked it when I was loud for you?” With that, you walk past him and disappear into the crowd.

Then…

“I can’t hear you, baby…come on…let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Ahhh…f-fuck…” You cried out loudly, body stiffening, with your fingers grasping Yoongi’s hair at the roots while his tongue teases the last pulses of your orgasm.

“There you go…good girl.”

You and Yoongi were planning to have a quiet night in but Hyejin invites you out at the last minute, saying that you haven’t had a proper girls’ night in a while. Thinking about it now, it’s been over a month since you met up with her. Most of your nights were preoccupied with Yoongi these days.

When Yoongi couldn’t convince you to stay in, he asked if you needed a ride there and you decline, saying that Hyejin offered to pick you up.

When you stepped out of the room and he sees you in your outfit, a dark cloud overcomes him. He grabs you by the waist, lifts you onto the kitchen counter, and moving your panties aside, dives right in.

He helps you off the counter and you smooth your dress. You glance downwards and see the bulge in his pants.

“Hey, let me take care of that.” You reach out to cup him but he catches your hand and lifts it up to his lips to kiss it.

You’re suddenly torn between walking out the door and wanting to stay to suck him off…deep. The latter option sounded more appealing as you felt your mouth water at the thought of him fucking your mouth.

He pulls you in close and presses his hard-on against you. You let out a small whine of protest. His tongue grazed his lower lip before sinking his teeth into it.

He tutted. “Come home to me later and I’ll give you what you want.” His voice made it sound like a warning…a warning that you were tempted to ignore just to find out what he would do to you for ignoring it. The idea excited you so much that you felt heat pooling between your legs again.

“Are you sure? I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to meet Hyejin,” you smile sweetly, your lips brushing against his jawline.

“I’m sure. Now go before I change my mind,” he says in jest.

“Okay,” you acquiesce.

Right before you walk away, he takes your mouth and kisses you hard. You couldn’t help but lick traces of your arousal from his lips.

When he pulls away, you are breathless and weak in the knees–more so after that orgasm that he gave you minutes ago.

******

You hadn’t noticed that Hyejin stopped mid-sentence to eye you as you giggled at your phone screen while you exchanged spicy texts with Yoongi. You finally look up and meet her gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’,” she says in a mocking tone. “I’ve been blabbing up a storm here and you’re all heart-eyes, drooling over your phone there.” She tilts her chin up to get a look at your text screen and you immediately pull it close to your chest.

She scoffed then laughed. “Oh my gooood…you are so whipped for him!”

You roll your eyes at her. “I am not!”

She laughed even louder at your response. “Oh come on, YN! How long have we been friends? I can tell whether you’re just feeling a buzz between your legs or if you’re really into someone. And right now, I know that you are so down bad for him,” she declares.

You feel your cheeks ignite. It wasn’t because of the alcohol but because you knew she was right.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine! So we’re a little obsessed with each other, big deal.”

You started to gush over your relationship. “I just love how much he cares. He checks in, asking whether I’ve eaten yet. He cooks for me…then, he tells me when he misses me. It’s nice. It feels nice to feel needed, you know?”

Hyejin nods. “Well, that’s all because you guys are still in that honeymoon phase!”

You scoff, dipping your fingers into your glass and flicking droplets of cold water at her. “Bitch! You’re so negative!”

She throws her head back in laughter. “I’m kidding, babe! You know me. Seriously, I’m happy for you. Now…” she cleared her throat. “Does he have a single hot friend that you know of?”

******

The following weekend, you convince Yoongi to come with you on a walking tour of a museum exhibiting gothic renaissance art. You were looking for some inspiration for your next project. You saw an ad online and decided it couldn't hurt to go exploring for a bit. It was also a nice excuse to pull him away from his workshop.

“Uhh…” Yoongi croaks tentatively. “I don’t know exactly what it is we’re looking at,” he laughs while cocking his head from one side to the other, trying to decipher the exhibit in front of you.

“Neither do I, jagi,” you giggled, glancing at the museum brochure. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to get some inspiration for this restaurant revamp. They currently have this old western theme…which is strange because they serve pizza and pasta.”

Yoongi laughs. “That concept doesn’t even make sense!”

“I know! But the owner’s daughter is a bit more modern and she’s totally up for a theme change.” You’ve talked to Yoongi about this new contract for weeks now and it’s finally happening. He was excited to bounce ideas off you to the point where you pulled him in as a supplier for the rebrand.

Even though the daughter was pushing for a more modern twist, her father, the restaurant’s current owner, wants to keep some traces of that classic feel to it.

“So, no saloon doors?” Yoongi says sarcastically.

You threw your head back in laughter. “Definitely not! The daughter would fire me. I was thinking we can bring in your natural concepts with that wooden fringe chandelier sketch that you were working on.”

His hand linked with yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it, making you grin like a lovestruck teenage girl. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk out of the museum and stood on the sidewalk, intending to walk a block over to a theater, not to see a show but to look at the architecture. The theater had a classic art deco design that would come in handy for your moodboard. You convinced Yoongi to make it part of your chill date before heading back to your place for dinner.

As you approach the end of the block, you are nearly run over by a man pushing a stroller that rounded the corner.

“Hey, watch it,” Yoongi exclaims protectively.

“Oh, I’m sor–YN?”

You suck in a breath. “Soonyoung, h-hi.”

“Hey! Wow…it’s been a while. Uh…h-how’ve you been?” He asks.

“Uhm…g-good,” you stammer. “You?” Then your eyes flick nervously over to the stroller that had a sleeping baby in it. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” he smiled. “Uh–so–”

“Yeobo!”

You whip your head around to see a woman come out of the restaurant that you were standing in front of. She walked towards Soonyoung and the stroller.

“Hi,” she greets you and Yoongi, then turns to Soonyoung waiting for him to introduce her.

“This is my wife, Naeyeon. Yeobo, this is YN. She’s an old friend.” She smiles at you then her eyes shift to Yoongi.

Somehow, your brain lurches forward. “This is Yoongi,” you say to both of them while you stood across from them. “My boyfriend.”

“So great to meet you both!” She says with a warm smile.

“Anyway, we should go before we miss our reservation, Nae. It’s good to see you again, YN,” Soonyoung says in a hurry before he and his family walk around you and into the restaurant.

******

Since that awkward run-in with Soonyoung, Yoongi has been uncharacteristically short with you for the rest of the day.

When you get back to your place, he sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Afterward, he picks up the to-go bags that contained your dinner.

You watched him quietly lay out the containers on your dining table, along with the disposable utensils, setting place settings for you and him.

He sits down and pulls his chopsticks apart. “We should eat before the food gets cold,” he says without looking up at you.

You wordlessly take the seat adjacent to him. He immediately puts a dumpling on your plate before he serves himself.

He pauses as if remembering something. He rose from his chair and moved toward the kitchen.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Just water is fine,” you answer blandly while staring at the lone dumpling on your plate.

He returns to the table, setting a glass of water next to you, and immediately takes a long swig of his drink after he sits back down.

He grabs so more food and puts it on his plate, pausing to offer you some but you decline. All this time, he still hasn’t made eye contact with you.

Unable to withstand it anymore, you push your plate aside to finally ask, “Something the matter?”

He doesn’t answer and instead continues to chew his food quietly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

He swallowed his food only to say, “Not now, YN.” He takes another bite.

You pursed your lips and gently press him again. “Look, if we have a problem here, we need to talk about it. We’re both adults here–”

“YN, I said, not now,” he says more sternly. Catching himself, he leans against the back of the chair, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. He regrets snapping at you. With a heavy sigh, he finally meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I…” he hesitates but finally gives into that nagging feeling in him. “Was that him?”

You give a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You should have introduced me as your boyfriend sooner!”

You scrunch your face in surprise. “Why does the timing even matter? The point was that I introduced you, right?”

His voice grew louder. “If you introduced me sooner, he'd take it as a sign not to make stupid small-talk or-or...even think about trying to start shit with you again!”

“Geez, Yoongi. Why would you even think like that? Clearly, the man was right there with his wife and kid. It was a short, very random run-in that will probably never happen again.” You maintained a calm tone.

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?” You started to grow irate at how unreasonable he was starting to sound. “Yoongi–I’m with you, not him. I love you, not him. I don’t understand why we’re making a huge deal out of this!”

He stood there silently, his hands on his waist, nostrils flaring with every breath he took. The seconds tick by and before you try to reason with him, he huffs and walks into the bedroom, the door slamming.

*****

After you store the takeout containers in the fridge, you enter the bedroom to find him lying on the bed with his back toward you. He doesn’t turn to face you or say anything so instead, you shower and get changed. When you get under the covers, you turn on your side so you faced the opposite direction.

A few minutes of silence and staring at your nightstand, you hear him let out a deep sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did earlier.”

His apology pinches your chest but you keep your back toward him. “You know, just because I hooked up with a married man before doesn’t mean that I’m itching to do it again. So I froze when I saw Soonyoung, but that’s only because I hadn’t seen him since I broke it off and to add to that, his wife was right there. What did you expect me to do?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got jealous and–I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

It was then that you rolled over to face him.

“Look…I made a stupid mistake a while ago but as soon as I was aware of it, I walked away and I grew from that. I thought that my being completely honest with you from the very beginning was a way to build trust between us…and that I had nothing to hide. But…” Your voice started to waver, “If you’re only going to use that against me, then I don’t think–”

“No, no–” He engulfs you in his arms immediately. As the warmth emanating from his body coursed through you, you couldn’t help but cry into his chest.

“Aw, baby…I’m sorry. I love you. I won’t question that again. And I do appreciate your honesty.”

You lifted your head and tilted your chin up to him. “I love you, too, Yoongi.”

There was nothing you could do to change the past but as he rocked you to sleep, you wondered if you were right to be open and honest with him from the beginning …or was it a careless mistake? Should you have put your best foot forward first and pretended to be perfect instead?

At your age, you learned that being up-front with your relationship expectations prevented less hurt if things went south. If either party decides that any of those expectations was a dealbreaker, you moved on, and no harm was done.

You only hoped that Yoongi felt the same.

Tags: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @yoongukie-ff @deepseavibez @miksancheese @shesoldbutcute @yu-justme @joonschocochip

Part 2 ◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

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#bts fanfiction #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts angst #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg angst #myg smut #stalemate x myg

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whumblr · 1 year

Text

Catharsis

Happy holidays, folks! Here's some angst to make your days merry and bright.

@hold-back-on-the-comfort came with the awesome suggestion: but what if revenge whump. And I think that's beautiful.

Custody masterpost

Eric wouldn’t describe himself as a vengeful man. Live and let live, that was more his style. That didn't mean he had any qualms about killing, not at all. But driving a point home, after all, worked best with the person still alive. Well, alive up to a certain degree; be it after intense physical therapy to restore basic bodily functions, some scars that’d never fade, and heavy trauma, but alive nonetheless. It wasn’t revenge, just… consequences.

But the chance to get his favorite victim back in his claws had been too good to pass up. And show them the ‘consequences’ of their actions he would.

Initially, his target was Nat and Nat alone. But that pesky partner of theirs never seemed to let them out of his sight after everything that had happened. And so, Eric had to admit, having a bonus wasn’t too bad. Someone to go all out on, a punching bag that would snap back – at times – and someone to use against Nat. Even though he wouldn’t need the leverage, the despair that would follow would be marvelous.

He fondly looked upon his two captives, the difference between them overwhelming.

Jeff lay face-front on the floor, still fighting even though his hands were cuffed behind his back and Kyle pressed him down with a knee between his shoulders.

Nat however didn’t need to be cuffed. Nat was already shackled by their own fear.

They’d known. Just a split second before their vision had gone dark and the hood was forced over their head. They knew it was Eric and they knew they couldn’t do a thing.

Now Jeff, he’d fought. And fought. Until Eric himself had to step in and crushed him into a wall. There was no need to knock him out. All he had to do was keep him in place, whisper something in his ear and cock his head towards the kneeling, blinded Nat, to whom a gun was slowly being leveled to the back of their head. And Jeff too had crumbled to his knees with a whimper.

Easy.

“It’s so good to have you both here again,” Eric clapped his hands and beamed at the two. “After the events of last time, I believe we have some… unfinished business.” He turned to Nat, who just stood nailed to the ground and he said in a hushed voice: “After all, Nat, I don’t think you and I were quite finished yet.”

Nat let out a whimper and seemed to deflate a little. Eric reveled at that, he’d missed this. But the moment was tainted by—

“Don’t you touch them! Don’t you dare!” Jeff raged behind them.

Eric merely turned his head slightly towards him and without his eyes ever leaving Nat’s, he just said: “Gag him.”

While Nat’s horrified expression was a treat in itself, Eric couldn’t resist turning to Jeff to see him struggle against Kyle. He watched, with just a sly and calm smile, as Kyle forcefully spun the man over. Jeff of course refused to open his mouth now, but even teeth clenched as tight as a vice would part to let out a scream of pain. Kyle stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth and quickly followed up, making use of the daze of pain to force his mouth shut with duct tape.

The pain and rage was reduced to nothing but guttural grunts and a first hint of despair glinted in Jeff’s eyes when his gaze shot back to Nat.

“Now, that’s better,” Eric crooned at the angry but softer grunts. “Now we can talk things out. Because Nat…” his eyes snapped to Nat and they stopped breathing. “You shot me,” he said in a horrible hushed and accusing whisper.

Nat backed up a step, lips trembling with fear and half-prattled pleas that never quite finished as they weren’t sure if they should beg or apologize.

Eric shushed them and stepped closer, standing right in front of them. He brought up a hand, just to see Nat flinch away, but slowly brought it up to his own chest, fingers disappearing under the blue lapel of his suit jacket and rested over his shoulder. “Right here,” he said, demanding eye contact. “I can still feel it.” He pressed lightly against the scar under his shirt. “Do you know how much that hurt, Nat?”

Then his hand reached behind his back, under his jacket. Nat’s eyes widened when they saw the gun pulled from his waistband and nearly buckled when he pressed it right against their shoulder. “Would you care to experience how it feels?”

He pulled the hammer back, soundwaves of the soft menacing click resonating right through Nat.

“No… no please,” they whispered.

“Or…” the gun pulled away and slowly he aimed at Jeff.

“No!” They snapped forward at that, brought to a stop by a hand to their chest.

“Maybe your accomplice should pay for your mistake.”

Nat was going out of their mind with fear, their whole body shaking like crazy. “P-pl-please, Eric, I—”

“Where are your manners, Nat?” Danger seeped into the voice as it dropped an octave.

Nat sobbed and swallowed hard. “Sir, please, I… Please, I’m sorry! I… I didn’t—"

“You didn’t mean to?” he said in that same calm voice but his lips turned up into a wicked grin. He pulled Nat closer with a deceptively gentle hand to the neck and whispered in their face: “I believe I taught you not to lie to me.”

Nat completely froze.

“Do you remember what happened last time? When I had to remind you not to lie to me?”

Their shoulder blades tensed, pressing together against the scars of last time and Nat swore they could feel that same deep pain cutting right through them again, swore they could hear the whip cracking in the back of their mind.

“Yes, sir,” they quickly whispered in an attempt to play by the rules.

“Do you? Need a reminder?”

“No… sir.” A single tear slid to their chin.

For some never-ending agonizing seconds, Eric just stared at them, considering. “No…” he echoed and Nat relaxed for a split-second until the next spoken words: “You’re right. Not yet. Can’t render you out of the game yet. We’ve only just started.” He placed the gun back against their shoulder, pressing hard. “But, you still have to apologize.”

That Nat could do. “Please, I'm sorry, I really am. I just—” they hiccupped, “I meant to say… that I didn’t—” their mind raced for an alternative, “I didn’t think, and I—”

Eric just looked at them expectantly, fond expression on his face as they prattled on and on.

“And—” Nat took a deep breath and their frantic rambling calmed down to something that they hoped would convince him. They looked up, right in those awful cold, grey eyes and said: “I am really sorry. Sir.”

A wrinkle of amusement softened his eyes. “Aw Nat. I believe you. Thank you,” he emphasized with a dramatic hand over his heart.

The gun pulled away and Nat just nodded, relief searing through them.

But the gun didn’t click back to safety yet. “Now what about him.”

Nat’s eyes followed the path of the gun as Eric re-aimed at the figure on the ground. “What?!”

“He owes me an apology as well. For stomping on my wound,” Eric said, matter-of-factly, and walked over to Jeff. He lightly turned him over onto his back, applying a little pressure to crush his bound hands against the hard floor. Then he raised the gun and aimed at Jeff’s shoulder. “So what do you say? When I remove that duct tape, can I expect an apology?”

Jeff glared up at him. He refused to look at Nat, who tried to signal to him to please just to do as he says; he knew he’d break if he looked into their eyes. Instead, he kept his attention on the threat. Then, very slowly, he lightly shook his head.

“Suit yourself.” Eric shrugged and without hesitating, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet ripped right through Jeff’s shoulder. His eyes bulged. His back arched. And his screams were stuck high up in his throat as he writhed on the floor.

Muffled though they were, agony and fear seared through his cries and Nat snapped forward in alarm. But Eric stopped them, merely holding out an arm to block their way, and shut them up with a withering side-glance before they could even finish the word ‘please’. Their knees couldn’t hold them anymore and they crumpled to the floor in despair, tears staining their cheeks as they could only watch how their friend twisted and coiled in pain.

Jeff’s suppressed cries died down to groans and he fought against the duct tape, taking desperate deep but shuddering breaths through his nose.

Eric stepped forward, shoe now resting on Jeff’s heaving chest, inching up and closer to the bullet wound.

“Last chance, now,” he teased.

He got all but a roar in reply. The words remained stuck in his throat, but the ferocity behind the muffled vowels could only mean one thing: it was an unmistakable ‘fuck you!’.

And so Eric replied by stomping hard right onto the bullet wound.

Blood splashed under his shoe and Nat had to look away. The howling sound tore through them, though, shaking them to their core. Eric just watched on in uncaring glee.

“Apologize, detective. Or I will fire another round into your partner and stomp the blood out of them until they drop unconscious.” He ripped off the duct tape and Jeff gasped hard for air when the gag was pulled from his mouth.

“Also,” he followed up in a lighter tone, “Do note that I only have one medic in my employ and he can’t patch you both up at the same time. From what he told me, bullets to the shoulders are tricky.”

That seemed to do the trick; the brutal logic of the threat of one of them bleeding out seemed to bring Jeff back. And he refused to let Nat go through this awful pain, so… he relented. He groaned and stammered, still gasping for air and trying to calm his breathing to get the words out.

Eric slowly pushed his shoe down once more, lightly, just squeezing more blood out of the wound, but knowing it still hurt like a bitch.

It brought out another cry and Jeff practically screamed “I’m sorry! Okay?! God, I—AagHh! I’m sorry!” He gasped in relief when Eric backed away.

“Thank you,” Eric said sweetly. “I have to admit, that was cathartic. Wasn’t it good to get that out?” He backed up and stopped next to Nat, swirling a hand through their thick hair, slithering down and gripping their chin, slick with tears, to force them to look up. He felt them nod against his grip and they both watched as Jeff still writhed in the afterglow.

“Good. Kyle, escort the good man to the doctor, please.” He turned to Nat with a wolfish grin. “Then I’ll keep our friend company.”

Continued here

Tagging, it's pretty much a continuation and I might write more so: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @hurtmebeautifully @im-just-here-for-the-whump @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

Lemme know if you want on/off.

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now. So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together. Is he doing alright? You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people. “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted. “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again. “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger. “I mean, sapphires? Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented.

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked. “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too. She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder. “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat. Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it. "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen. But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard. "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really. I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up. "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

#bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes bodyguard au

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veilder · 3 years

Note

Hi! Would you happen to have Convin or Reed900 fics to recommend?

Oh, hello! I can definitely help you with Convin fic recs at least, lol! Reed900, not so much, but there are plenty of blogs around that you could ask for that ship. ^_^ But yeah, I’ll try to categorize these as best I can! And give a little summary, too! :D

Longfics 75k+ (Complete)

1. Mission: Unexpected by J11nxed (@j11nxed) Rated E (violence, sexual content, language, abuse): Super great casefic with lots of amazing character development. Very funny. Probably my favorite characterization of Connor and Gavin, lol. The fic I read when I’m feeling down. ^_^

2. Golden by jarpad (@embaggins on Twitter) Rated M (dark themes, mature content, allusions to self-harm/suicide, mental health issues, language): An absolutely beautiful story of healing and overcoming your demons handled in a very respectful manner. The subject matter is very thought provoking and it brought me to tears, both cathartic and not, more than once. It’s a heavy story, but... So worth it, imo.

3. like roses, death blooms by alekszova (@ewates) Rated M (violence, rape, torture, abuse, mental health issues): A very, very dark revenge fic. Definitely the darkest one on this list. If you like heavy angst, this might be for you, though please heed the tags. A lot of this story is about the aftermath of horrific events but there are still some very brutal scenes.

Mid-length fics 20k-75k (Complete)

1. Running Uphill by NHMoonshadow (@sharysisnhmoonshadow) Rated M (violence, peril, language): The ultimate time travel soulmate AU fic imo. Absolutely top tier Gavin characterization and development. Rich backstories and relationships. Definitely some trauma, omg. But ultimately, a happy ending. Definitely a must-read for any Convin fan imo.

2. Traces by berryblonde (@berry--blonde) Rated M (language, peril, minor suicidal ideation): One of the first long fics I ever read for this ship and still one of my faves. Excellent casefic setup, very interesting premise and some very dynamic characters. Also, really A+ backstory for Gavin. This is basically a classic for anyone who wasn’t around in the early days of fandom. Highly recommend!

3. His Robin by wolfetz Rated T (drama, language): Absolutely fantastic coming of age story set in a human!AU world. Really great character work for both Connor and Gavin and their relationship through the years. Love this one.

4. A Scratched CD/A Faulty Code by consecrated Rated T (mental health issues, language): Companion pieces told from Gavin and Connor’s POVs respectively. These were also very early fics I read when I was first getting into the fandom and I love them both dearly. The characterization here went a long way towards me loving the ship to begin with. A great intro to Convin.

5. That Boy is a Powder Keg by QueenHarleyQuinn Not Rated (language, violence, mature content, mental health issues): One of the most realistic takes on Gavin going from his canon asshole self to someone who could feasibly be in a relationship with Connor. I’m definitely due to re-read this cuz I can’t quite remember the details anymore, but I know I really enjoyed this at the time. Good for anyone who likes a more antagonistic take on him.

Shortfics/Oneshots (~20k)

1. Sedum Spathulifolium by Burrahobbit Rated T (language): This fic... is so dang sweet. I’ve read it so many times. It’s absolutely adorable, what can I say? Love their dynamic here. ^_^

2. Always know that you are not alone by Liveinelf Rated T (language, drama): Another fantastic take on Gavin and his growth as a character. He starts off very close to canon here and is one mean asshole. But this fic does a great job of explaining why he acts as he does. And how he changes. Highly recommend.

3. Some things never change by berryblonde Rated T (language): An absolutely hilarious fic, lol. The view of Convin through the eyes of some rookie trainees, omg. It makes me laugh so much. XD

4. Mankind Needs More Empathy by BrightestStarInTheSky (@brighteststarinthesky) Rated T (language, drama): Some good old-fashioned Gavin-getting-his-head-out-of-his-ass, lol. I love fics like this. Need a good basis to start a relationship, after all. Apologies are in order. ^_^

5. as i see them by rekal Rated T (language, drama): Same as the previous entry, this one deals with Gavin’s character growth and how he and Connor grow closer in the aftermath. It’s lovely.

6. Sweet/Wise men say... by 99MillionMiles (@99millionmilesaway) Not Rated: Two short, sweet fluff pieces that absolutely delight me every time I reread them. And as a bonus, some beautiful art by @deep-in-mind67, too!

7. Melted Phoenix by Astrapod Rated M (violence, trauma, mental health issues, mutilation, peril): This one... This is a heavy fic. It starts off with a very harrowing description of android violence that might be too much for some folks to handle. Proceed with caution. But, if you can weather that, this is an absolutely beautiful fic about love and healing. Definitely recommend.

8. So Pathetic and So Lovely by alekszova Rated M (language, drama, mental health issues, mature themes): I think the fic’s description speaks for itself here: “ Neither Gavin or Connor think they are capable of being loved by the other, but that doesn't mean it's true.” Definitely worth a read.

9. An unexpected turn of events by Smokey310 Rated T (language): This one is freakin hilarious. Connor and Gavin and a night out at the club, omg. I love this fic to death. XD

10. As Do I by berryblonde Rated T (drama): A human!AU where your soulmate can feel the injuries of their other half. It’s the story of a lifetime together. All the way til the end.

11. because the bed’s warm and it’s cold out by voidpants (@voidpants) Rated G (no warnings): Connor and Gavin being old men together. It’s beautiful. Such a lovely take on the two of them.

Unfinished Fics/Honorable Mentions

1. Spinning Yellow by sheepishwolfy (@sheepishwolfy) Rated E (violence, language, mature themes): Amazing casefic with top-tier characterization. What’s written of it is still amazing, even if it’s not complete.

2. Amidst a Crash of Worlds by fireplanetz Rated T (violence, mature themes, war, language): A fic told entirely through letters between Connor and Gavin in the aftermath of the bad ending of the game. It’s such an awesome idea and it’s executed so well. Definitely recommend.

3. The Bet by Pence Rated T (language): Brooklyn 99-inspired DPD shenanigans. Need I say more? It’s so funny and I love the characterization of Connor and Gavin. Mostly finished, too! Just the final chapter missing!

4. Wicked by MercuryPilgrim Rated M (language, mature content): I love this one. It’s such a unique take on Connor and Gavin and it works so well, too. They are delightful here. Love the dynamic!

5. (can’t say) i don’t love you by Chibbers (@teh-chibi) Rated M (language, drama, sexual content): An angsty hanahaki!AU fic where these two idiots don’t realize they’re in love with each other. Really great writing here. Very emotional. Made me feel a lot.

And I guess I should mention that I have fics of my own, too, about half of which are Convin? You can check them out on my AO3 here! ^_^

So yeah, there we go. Those are really all I can think of off the top of my head. I know I missed some amazing works, too, alas. But at least this can give you a good start, yeah? Hope this helps @pancrystal! And thanks again for the ask! :D (Also, if I messed up any of the link or if there’re any glaring typos, lemme know. This was a lot of janky, Tumblr formatting, omg. >_<)

#dbh #fanfic #fic recs #convin #connor #rk800 #gavin reed #reed800 #gavcon #please feel free to add any onto this in the comments!#I definitely know I missed some!#and also add your URL if you like since I didn't know everybody's lol! XD #pancrystal

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parkerflix · 3 years

Text

—JUST BETWEEN US

bang chan x gn! reader (kinda ig?)

wc:0.9k

genre: angst soz

warnings: mentions of drugs

a/n: this is part 2 of stupid to love you, but also could be read as a standalone! loosely inspired by moving along by 5sos and all too well by taylor swift,, could possibly have a 3rd part idk how i’m feeling about it still...

Pink camellias.

Chan was never one to like the flower language, but when you taught it to him, he started to think it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Pink camellias were scattered around his apartment, some wilted and some as fresh as could be, the contrasts just showing how many he’s had.

In the middle of his dining room table though, he had a crystal vase (one that his mother had given him), holding the other flowers in the apartment.

Sitting at his dining table, he held some paper that you had bought him once upon a time.

Looking up, it felt as if he could see the flashback, the two of you sitting where he was currently.

“Chan! Don't forget that you asked me to teach you how to do these!” you whined at him, noting how he didn’t seem the least bit interested in it.

You pulled a piece of piece of paper off the stack that you had gotten for him. The paper was one that was purposely aged, and had little pieces of gold leaf woven into it. Grabbing the pen that Chan had started fiddling with, you turned your attention to writing a letter to him.

Chan had noticed how engrossed you got into writing the letter, and was just watching you write line after line onto the paper. Only the sounds of the the pen scratching the paper and both of your breathing could be heard. He had felt a little awkward just sitting there, so he leaned over and grabbed a piece of paper as well. Grabbing another pen from the other side of the table, he realized he had no clue to write you a letter.

He sat there for a few seconds trying to figure out how to phrase his words correctly and articulate them in a way that you could understand what he was trying to say. Then the thought had came to him: song lyrics.

He quickly started thinking about you and the way you made him feel, and started writing them down. Eventually, the both of you had finished your letters (albeit he didn’t bother to mention to you that his was not a poem but rather a unfinished song). Grabbing the envelopes, you handed him one, wrote each others names on them and grabbed the wax that was sitting next to the paper.

“Okay, are you ready to learn how to seal letters?” you said, smiling at him.

He just nodded and watched you with careful eyes , while you demonstrated the whole process to him. Once you had finished with yours, he handed you his with a sheepish smile while you just shook your head fondly at him. Quickly sealing his letter, you placed it next to his.

“Can we open the letter now?” He asked, poking your side.

You giggled and poked him back.

“No, we’ll open these later together, I promise”.

His mood quickly changed and he started mumbling and grumbling about the whole process and how without doing all of the extra steps you guys could already check.

“It’s the small details that matter” you had said to him “this shows that it has a little more meaning than just a regular letter, that you spent your time sealing it and making it look good.”

He had gotten up from the table after you had said that, chair legs scrapping the floor and leaving small marks on the ground.

He had snapped out of his thoughts, the memory of you fading once more. All that was left there were the pink camellias that he had put, a reminder that he may have lost the one person he truly cared about. Quickly getting up from his seat, he went to his bedroom to rummage through his drawers. Finding what he was looking for, he went back to the table and placed the two letters, unopened next to the cyclamens that you had sent him. With a heavy heart, he grabbed the flowers out of the vase and grabbed the letters he had just placed on the table. Opening the door to his balcony ( he was grateful that his apartment ended up being on the ground floor) and sat down at his little table.

Next to his table was a metal trashcan, one that he occasionally used for “cleansing rituals” (something else he had gotten from you). Placing the flowers and letters in the trashcan, he grabbed the lighter that he had outside (along with a joint next to it and grabbed a piece of paper form the trashcan. He first lit the joint, taking in a drag feeling the smoke consume his lungs, hoping that the sensation may numb him for a little while. Next he lit the piece of paper and let it slip from his fingers into the trashcan.

Watching the flame grow and start to burn everything, tears slid down his eyes, realizing that the pain and heartbreak that he caused was suffocating him in this very moment. The filling of heartbreak in his stomach and the numbness in his heart caused by the drags of the joint and the overwhelming pain of the heartbreak reminded him that he was to blame. His actions had caused this, and he couldn’t take it back. But with the burning of the letters he knew that he could and he would be able to move on. Day by day, until he’s no longer craving your touch and wanting your presence. Staring up at the moon, with the flames starting to dissipate, he made a mental note that tomorrow, he would replace the camellias with daffodils.

Day by day.

pink camellias- longing for someone

daffodils- rebirth, new beginnings

mini taglist from the last time i posted :

@bobatea-channie @astroqqnglx @qtieskz

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kitkatd7 · 3 years

Text

What Could’ve Been; Broken Hearts & Whiskey Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky finally starts trying to get his shit together but when you show up with another man it throws everyone for a loop.

Warnings: Angst! Overprotective Bucky, Pissed reader, Threats, womanizing character who gets what he deserves, Talk of the breakup, Cursing that Steve would be ashamed of, Tiniest bit of fluff but not really.

Word Count: 3,331

A/N: I’m finally backkk!!! I’ve been wanting to work on this series for some time now and I’m finally getting a bit of motivation to do so! I hope you enjoy it!

A/N 2: Entire paragraphs of italics are flashbacks, single sentences of italics are internal thoughts, Bold italics are song lyrics. I used lyrics from the song What Could’ve Been by Gone West for this story.

Masterlist of Masterlists || Marvel Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Part 1

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

**2 Months After Breakup**

Waltzing into the living room of the Avengers tower, you're met with a chorus of greetings from your adopted family. Despite you and Bucky being over you still spend time with everyone else- just when he isn’t around.

You haven’t seen him since you broke up and you’d like to keep it that way. Seeing him would just be more than you could handle; you already lost him so why remind yourself of it more often than you already do? But at the same time his absence from movie night is just as painful of a reminder- like a puzzle with a lost piece.

Snapping back to reality you give a halfhearted smile, joining Steve and Sam on the couch as Natasha hits play on ‘John Wick’.

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

2 hours later you’re standing in the kitchen making snacks with Sam before the next movie starts. “That’s ridiculous, Sammy!” You giggle, watching the microwave timer count down until the popcorn is ready. “Bacon does not belong in ice cream.”

You hear him chuckle behind you as he empties M&M’s into bowls. “Bacon belongs in everything, sweetheart. You're gonna try it sometime or else...”

“Or else what, Sa-” You cut off as you turn around, frozen on the spot as you peer over

Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey, y/n,” Bucky whispers. Your gaze travels up and down the man you used to know, but he’s different. His eyes have bags beneath them from lack of sleep, his hair longer and more unruly than it was the last time you saw him. The stubborn jawline you remembered was replaced by a nervous clenched jaw. His eyes once so bright were now timid and dull; no longer holding the same sparkle that used to make you smile.

In an instant your expression went from a carefree woman with her friends to the girl who’s heart was shattered by the stranger before you whose face you used to know so well.

“Can we talk?” Bucky asks gently, his expression hopeful yet dreading.

“What are you doing here, James?” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself as Sam looks between you both carefully.

“I live here,” Bucky nearly scoffs.

“Barnes,” Sam warns, his shoulders tense as he glances at you worriedly.

“I don’t want to talk to you, James. I have nothing to say.”

“All you have to do is listen. Please, doll.”

Despite your best efforts to appear unbothered, the nickname shatters your false bravado. “Don’t call me that,” your voice breaks as tears cloud your vision.

“Excuse me,” you whisper, rushing past both men, ignoring Bucky’s call of your name and attempt to stop you.

“Let her go, man. You’ve done enough,” you hear Sam say as you flee down the hallway, slamming the bathroom door behind you.

Locking the door you turn on the faucet as the tears begin to fall and the suppressed memories rush back:

**2 Months Before Breakup* Flashbacks*

“It’s midnight! Where the hell were you?” You yelled, tears pricking your eyes.

Bucky sighed in defeat, his expression resigned and cold. “Can we do this in the morning?” His tone more of an order than a request as he turns his back on you and begins to walk down the hallway of your apartment.

“No, we can’t do it in the morning. You owe me an explanation. You were supposed to be here when my parents got here. You promised.” You sniffled as Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a good enough reason,” he mumbles before walking away.

I haven't stopped thinking about you

Has it really been this long?

Two years and an ocean between us

And I don't know where it all went wrong

I know I coulda kissed you harder

And yeah, you coulda followed through

Shoulda talked a little bit softer

But we meant every "I love you"

**1 Month Before Breakup**

Glancing around the restaurant you see no sign of Bucky. Checking your phone for the 8th time in the past 10 minutes, you sigh. Where is he? You’ve been here for an hour; waiting in your new dress for the man who hadn’t bothered to show. You’re getting tired of the pitiful looks the waitress and the other customers are shooting you. Polishing off your second glass of wine you open your phone: no new messages.

You’ve already sent Bucky 5 texts and called him 4 times; you're done.

Paying for the wine quickly you all but flee the restaurant, trying to hold back your tears. If you weren’t so upset you would probably laugh; laugh at yourself for being so naive to think he would keep his word. But you can’t bring yourself to laugh, not while your heart slowly shatters at the hands of the man who swore never to hurt you.

I don't know what this is or what it isn't

But it feels like we've got unfinished business

**2 Months Ago; AKA Week of Breakup**

“Hey this is y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now cuz I’m out livin my life! Leave it at the beep.” He hears your all too familiar voicemail through the speaker. He had helped you come up with it, you hadn’t known what to put on it. He kicks himself, knowing you weren’t actually out living your life, just dodging his calls. Not that he blamed you- He deserved it and he knew it. Calling again, he’s not surprised when he hears your voicemail again.

“Hey… Um, listen, I know I was supposed to be at your place after the mission… I just wanted to unwind with the guys and- Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think you would mind that much, I’ll be over in a bit to make it up to you, okay?” He leaves the message and ends the call before starting his car and driving towards your apartment, guilt heavy in his stomach.

You listen to his voicemail over and over, a strange mix of rage and sorrow weighing on your heart.

Tears roll slowly down your cheeks silently as you lay curled up in a defensive ball on your bed, trying to block out the unmistakable sound of Bucky begging you to open the front door; “Babe, please open the door,” He says, fist resting gently against the frame. “I’m sorry- really, really sorry. Please let me in and we can talk about it,” He sighs, resting his head against the door in defeat. He could break the lock and go in. You both know that. But he wouldn’t do that to you- All that would do is make you fear him and that’s the last thing he wants. He slides his back down the wall til he’s sitting on the floor next to your door, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair; Tears gathering in his lashes. He really messed up this time.

The next day you drag yourself out of bed, trying to forget last night and all the tears you shed. After a shower and breakfast, you head out the door for a coffee run before work. You stop in your tracks when you see Bucky still sitting there, eyes red from lack of sleep and regret written all over his face. He jumps up when you walk out, keys in hand, the door closing behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I came to apologize,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you bite, moving to step around him but stopping when he steps to block your path.

“Bucky, I’m going to be late for work,” you say coldly, glaring at him. “Move out of the way.”

“Please doll, just let me explain-”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I understand perfectly, James.” You watch as he flinches a little at the use of his first name. You only use it when you're really mad or really happy, and it isn’t the latter right now. “You were too busy with your beer buddies to come see your girlfriend after being gone for three weeks, but what’s new? It’s been like this for months. I guess it was naive of me to expect something else this time.”

'Cause we left blood the on the tracks

Sweat on the saddle

Fire in the hills

A bullet in the barrel

Words never said in a story that didn't end

Looks like you're on the mend and I'm on the bottle

We folded our hands with money on the table

**Present Day**

All the broken promises, nights alone and tears came rushing back as sobs racked your body. Sliding down the door you rest your head between your knees, eyes screwing shut tightly in a useless attempt to stop the bittersweet memories and tears.

Little do you know that outside the door sat a man with tears clouding his vision as he listened to your muffled sobs on the other side of the door. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and undo all of the agony he caused you and hold you like he's been wishing he could for the past 2 months. You were just on the other side of the door, separated from him by a few inches of wood and yet you had never been farther away. What did he do?

Tried moving on, but I keep coming back again

To what could've been

What could've been

Oh, what could've been

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

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

Stumbling into your apartment you all but throw your keys and purse down before shuffling into the bathroom and turning on the hot water for a shower before turning back to the mirror.

The person you see looking back at you in the mirror isn’t who you remember- or at least not who you thought you were. The person you remember was carefree and happy; living in a dream with the love of their life. You don’t recognize the girl in the mirror with swollen, bloodshot eyes and shoulders that hold the weight of the world. What happened to the girl you used to know?

A single tear rolled down your cheek, leaving a mournful trail in its wake. Bucky. Bucky happened to that girl.

There had always been doubt hidden in the back of your mind; doubt that your beautifully woven reality would become nothing more than a tangled web of what once was and could’ve been, but you never thought it would end like this. You had imagined it being another girl that came between you, or perhaps his self loathing or the inadequacy you felt. Never did you think it would be the unexplainable, cold, unfeeling resentment that had taken over the gentle, sweet man you thought you knew. Where did it go wrong?

A couple more simple, "I'm sorry's"

A little less tryna be right

I wonder how many good mornings we wasted

'Cause we didn't say goodnight

One touch before we fell asleep

Just before our love was out of reach

Coulda been enough, coulda saved us from this loneliness

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

“Steve?” Bucky calls out as he strides into the training room, the door banging shut behind him. Whirling around Steve clutches a hand to his chest. “Jesus, Buck! You scared the hell out of me!”

“I need your help,” Bucky demands, jaw set in a firm line and his eyes glittering with determination.

Steve runs a hand over his face, letting out a sigh. “Is this about Y/N and the other night? Because if it is I am not apologizing to the poor girl for you, so you can just-”

“I want her back.”

“You what?!” Steve exclaimed, his jaw dropping.

“I want her back- I need her back. And I need you to help me.”

“Damn it, Bucky. It’s been 2 months and you saw how she still feels about what you did. How are we gonna fix that?”

“I don’t know yet, Steve… But I have to try. Please.”

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

Strolling into Tony’s party happily, you smile up at your date, your arm linked with his.

You greet Tony with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek before turning towards the sound of Natasha calling your name. Sashaying towards her you give her a hug before turning to give Thor and Steve one as well.

“So, who’s this?” Nat asks, gesturing towards your date who’s eyeing her unabashedly, his gaze dropping to her neckline.

“Oh, sorry! This is Jordan!”

You roll your eyes as Thor begins lightly interrogating him, but he doesn’t pay much attention, his gaze fixed on Natasha’s retreating form.

“Can we talk?” Steve asks, his hand resting gently on your forearm. Following him into a nearby corridor you give him a puzzled look. “Is something wrong, Steve?”

“Um, not exactly…” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, what is it then?”

“It’s about Bucky.” Seeing your irritated expression he holds up his hands innocently. “Wait a minute. Just hear me out, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Look, he’s been spiraling since you guys broke up; not eating, always working and out on missions constantly, and his nightmares are getting worse again.”

“Why should I care?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you don’t still love hi- Actually, fine, Y/N. If you want to pretend that you don’t care then that’s your problem. Just know that seeing you the other night? Changed something. He’s trying again, and I don’t want to see him lose that. So even if you want to tell yourself that it doesn’t matter to you, at least think about it for me.” Steve turned away, pausing for a moment. “Oh, and by the way? Seeing you here tonight with someone else isn’t gonna be good for anyone… But why should you care, right?”

Taken aback by Steve’s lack of usual patience, you can only watch as he walks off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving you with mixed emotions and a hard decision ahead of you; what were you gonna do?

No matter how hard you tried to block out thoughts of Bucky they always managed to slip back in between the cracks in your shattered heart. Steve was right; you did care. But what were you supposed to do about it tonight? Especially about Jordan. Were you supposed to walk up to him and say ‘oh, by the way you have to leave because my ex is here and he may or may not rip your arms off? No, that wouldn’t work.

Racking your brain for a solution, you snag a glass of champagne from one of the passing trays, downing it in the hopes of drowning your mixed emotions - it didn’t work. Taking a deep breath, you start weaving between the sea of bodies towards where you left Jordan.

Spotting Thor and Tony you make your way towards them, smirking when you hear Tony arguing with Thor over… something.

“Where’s Jordan?” you ask, joining their small circle and trying to shake off your conversation with Steve.

“He was here a minute ago… I’m not sure though, kiddo,” Tony says, giving you a puzzled glance. “Speak of the devil, here he is!” Tony exclaims as you look over your shoulder to see a slightly ruffled Jordan walking towards you, his eyes holding an unnatural hazy look.

“Where were you?” You ask lightly, gaze raking his bedraggled form; his shirt slightly untucked, hair mused and lips pink.

“Oh um, nowhere. Just the bathroom.”

Accepting another glass of champagne, you push down the fury in your chest. You’d just taken a sip when an all too familiar figure came to stand beside you; a scotch glass in his hand and clad in an unfairly attractive black suit. “Hey Y/N, who’s this?”

Nearly choking on your drink, your eyes widen. “Bucky! What are you doing here? You hate these parties!” You say before you can stop yourself. Stupid. The offhanded statement would seem innocent to most, but to you- to you it was a reminder that you still knew him better than anyone else did, a reminder that you remembered all the nights alone together instead of at the noisy parties, a reminder that you still cared enough to remember.

You could see that he was thinking the same thing. “This is Jordan. My…” you faded off, not quite sure what to call him.”

“Date,” Jordan finishes for you, wrapping his left arm around your waist lazily, his hand traveling slightly further than appropriate for the first date. “But we’re keeping things loose, isn’t that right?” Jordan asks, glancing at you but not waiting for an answer. “And who the hell are you?”

Your eyes widen in shock, glancing back and forth between the two men; taking in Jordan’s cocky smirk and Bucky’s knowing look.

Bucky extended his hand, a malicious smirk on his lips and dark glint in his eyes as he took in the unprofessional state of Jordan- including the lipstick stain on his white button down- and the uncomfortable shift of your weight, leaning away from your sorry excuse of a date.

Jordan accepted the outstretched hand, wincing visibly and paling at Bucky’s iron grip. “Bucky Barnes,” Bucky offered, enjoying as the other man wriggled uncomfortably in his grip, his arrogance forgotten. His gaze lighted on Bucky’s metal arm, his eyes lighting with recognition and terror.

“Holy- you're the Winter Soldier! God man, I’ve heard so much about you-”

“An honor, I’m sure,” Bucky drawls, looking bored, his voice dropping an octave in warning. “Now get lost.”

You sputter defiantly as Jordan scurries off, his tail between his legs.

“What was that for?!” you fume,a fire burning in your eyes as you turn on Bucky.

“Oh c’mon. The guys’ been eyeing every other woman in here! He’s a douche! What was I supposed to do? Just let him feel you up after sneaking off with who knows what girl?”

“Who ‘feels me up’ is none of your concern anymore!”

“Come off it, Y/N! You didn’t even want him touching you! I was protecting you, so your welcome,” he huffed.

“I don’t need protecting, and I sure as hell don’t need you to protect me. So you can go fuck yourself, James. You can’t treat me like shit for months and then get mad when someone else does the same thing!” you snarl, spinning on your heel and storming off as Bucky watches you.

Bucky stalks across the floor, the crowd parting before him; not willing to get in the way of the 6 foot man on a mission. Locating his target- dancing with another girl no less- he grabs him roughly by the collar before pushing him against a pillar.

“What the hell, dude?” Jordan fumes, eyes locking on Bucky’s before he goes slack, his eyes widening in horror when he recognizes the former assassin.

“Every single thing you’ve ever heard about me is true, so shut up and listen closely,” Bucky growls, his arm braced against Jordans chest forcefully, a murderous glint in his eyes. “I expect you to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’ll know. First, you are going to get your sorry ass out of here, and then you are going to send Y/N an apology text, telling her what an asshole you are, and that you don’t deserve to even look at her. Then, you are not going to get within 1,000 feet of her, and you are not going to text, call, or even think about her ever again, or I swear to God I will hunt you down, cut your balls off and shove them down your goddamn throat, got it? Nod if you understand. Good. Now. Get. Out.”

Releasing Jordan, Bucky watches as he falls to the floor before scrambling towards the door with the fear of God instilled in him.

“What the hell did you just do, Bucky?”

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

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aomineavenue · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 008. healing

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: completed. | series masterlist

↩ chapter seven bonus | healing | at peace ↪

mia speaks:

We’re getting real close to the end, and I don’t think I’ll be ready to part with Atsumu just yet. But I’m super duper excited to start Stubborn.

If it isn’t too much, please leave a little COMMENT on what you think of this piece or REBLOG if you like it! Thank you.

Rejection can be defined as an act of pushing someone or something away. It is also considered as something to be experienced on a large scale or small ways in everyday life. In the field of mental health care, rejection most frequently refers to the feelings of sadness, or grief people feel when they are not accepted by others.

In Atsumu’s case, it was the latter.

The moment he had decided to leave the party to seek you out, he was more or less, on edge. The fear of rejection was eating him out as he traveled back to Kanagawa, and even then as he stared at the hospital door that leads to Atsuhiro’s room where he assumes you’re most likely already in deep slumber from how late it is. However, that doesn’t stop him from his mission, eventually finding the courage to press his knuckles against the door to knock.

A minute passed and there was still no answer, a part of him decided it was best to leave, so you can rest but wanting to give it another chance, he knocks on the door once more. The lack of response disappoints him but he diminishes it with a little light of hope, telling himself that you’re probably asleep and it was best to try later. As he was about to leave, the hospital door slides open and his gaze lands on your exhausted, surprised, features.

He stares at you in adoration and before he could stop himself, the words slip out of his lips. "I love you."

Silence engulfs the two of you comfortably, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He wonders if his beating heart was loud enough for you to hear through the silence. He watches in anticipation how your features shift from confusion to something he couldn't quite recognize. For a second, he berates himself for blurting out such foolishness.

Was it horror? Pity? He couldn't possibly comprehend with his nerves on overdrive, about a handful of thoughts swimming in his mind. If only he knew your heart was beating against its constraints just as fast as his, or that you wanted to throw your arms around him and finally claim him as yours at that very moment. He calls out your name in a stutter to pull you out of your shocked trance, fighting his urge to step through the threshold and pull you into his arms. He holds back the words clawing their way out of his mouth, not wanting to overwhelm you with his sudden burst of emotions. But mostly because he was afraid.

Afraid of humiliation, and of rejection. He was afraid that his feelings for you were no longer reciprocated. Though, he wouldn't blame you. He would understand if he was too late. It had been six years after all, and you, out of the both of you, deserve way better than this. Better than him.

However, a part of him wishes it were otherwise. He recalls the night he summoned the tiniest spark of courage to capture your lips with his own once more after so long. He doesn't regret his actions, because he realized things that night as your own lips move against his own. It was as if the missing puzzle piece had been rummaged through the piles of chaotic emotions and finally found its rightful place.

It just felt right.

If it weren’t for the ridiculous hounds of reporters that interrupted the night, he may have used that opportunity to win you over or at least have a proper talk with you since obviously there are still a lot of unfinished business between the two of you that need fixing for the sake of Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro.

“What are you doing here?” he hears you question, snapping out of his own thoughts, his shoulders growing tense.

He slips his hands into the pockets of his coat, wanting to hide his trembling fingers from your sight. “I know I should have reached out sooner, and there isn’t any way I could possibly excuse myself out of that. I’ve probably left you wondering again, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Atsumu.” you mutter underneath your breath, brows furrowing. “What were you doing up anyways?”

He lifts his shoulders up into a timid shrug, “I was at a party. I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I went straight here. I know it’s late and I should have waited but it’s been days since we last spoke and I couldn’t take it anymore. I—I needed to see you.”

“I don’t know what to say…” you release a heavy sigh, shifting your gaze away from him as you feel your cheeks heat up from God knows what. Embarrassment? Flattery? God, you could only curse at yourself for feeling that way ever since the two of you shared that kiss.

The corners of his mouth tug up to a small smile, “You don’t have to say anything, just hear me out.” As you give him a nod after lifting your head to meet his gaze once more, he’s hit with a sudden rush of confidence, wondering if this was finally his chance to spill the feelings that had been occupying his thoughts since the two of you reunited.

It was a mixture of anger and hate the moment he had realized it was you, that was for sure, he’d been frustrated but the one thing that’s been bothering him was the thought of you disappearing again. This time, taking the kids, his sons that he had grown to adore, away from him. The very thought had been enough for him to lower his pride, and a good push from his twin brother. His brother’s words replaying his head.

‘Quit your moping and win her over before I do.’

“I love you,” he repeats his earlier words; this time with confidence, arms extending out to reach out for your hands which somehow, surprisingly for the both of you, you oblige, letting his fingers lace with yours. “I’ve loved you as my best friend the very moment when we were kids when you laughed at me for tripping and having the ice cream slip from my hands and landing on our grumpy neighbor’s bald head. I think a part of me started loving you there and then when you pulled me up from the ground and dragged me laughing away to avoid us getting into trouble.” You stifle a laugh, your eyes scrunching up in amusement at the memory and he couldn’t help but let a Cheshire grin form on his own lips at the sight of your happiness, feeling a sudden surge of happiness bubble in his own chest. There and then, he realized that he truly adored you and that he’s missed you. Missed this.

Missed the warmth that radiated from just your mere touch.

“I’ve loved you since we started high school and I know I had a really shitty way in showing that, being so absorbed in volleyball and everything, I don't think I ever deserved you then,” he lets out a sigh, “I never deserved your care. Despite me lashing out because of my own frustrations, you pulled me back into reality just as Osamu could and looking back now, I had been so blessed. And I…” he trails off, tearing his gaze away from yours in shame and his heart skips a beat at your gesture, squeezing his hands in a form of reassurance, “I took it for granted. I realized it too late and…”

He lets out a sob, lifting his head to meet yours once more and he lets the tears spill from the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he lowers himself down onto his knees and he watches your eyes widen as he gives your hands a squeeze of his own, “Let me prove it to you how sorry I am, please. I know I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve to be a part of Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro’s liv—”

It almost seemed like time stood still for Atsumu as you drop down to your own knees in front of him, pulling your hands away from his grip, only for you to grip the fabric of his shirt beneath his coat between your fingers, pulling him closer to your body as you lower your head to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Despite the layering of clothes that protected his skin from the cold, he could feel the patch of wetness growing on his shoulder from the tears that flowed from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Atsumu. I’m sorry as well,” those words spill from your mouth, despite your words mixed with sobs and you trying to keep your voice to a whisper to not disturb the residence of the hospital on the floor, he could hear you loud and clear. “I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for leaving you when you needed me the most. I’m—” you cut yourself off with another sob.

The sight of your vulnerable state was enough for Atsumu’s heart to clench in its confinement and slowly, his arms snake around your hips to pull you closer to his body. The both of you release a sigh from the warmth. You continue, “You deserve to be loved, Atsumu. You really do. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I’m sorry for depriving you of the chance to raise such wonderful sons. I—I’m sorry.”

The cold hospital floor didn’t even bother the two of you. The warmth radiating off of each other’s embrace was enough.

Home.

The blinding fluorescent lights almost stabs his eyes as he slowly flutters his eyelids open, a hiss escaping his lips from the sudden burst of light. He tries to shield his eyes from such torture by lifting his heavy arm only to let out a groan as a shriek echoes through the small room. Groggily, he turns his head towards the direction of the assault to his ears and blinks his eyelids a couple of times to adjust his sight.

He suddenly wishes he hadn’t woken up right at this moment.

As the blonde model notices Atsumu moving from his bed, her eyes widen in excitement at the sight of him awake, trying her best to push through his twin’s protective stance. “Tsumtsum! You’re awake and okay!” she squeals and he winces in response. Atsumu knows his brother well, and from the proximity from between the two by the door, despite his brother’s back facing him, he could tell from his mere posture that his twin had his usual scowl on his face when dealing with the women in his life. He watches from the bed as Yumi turns to face his twin, a scowl scrunching up in her features as she crosses her arms across her chest and stomps her feet. “Can you please tell your brother over here to let me through? I’m your girlfriend!” she huffs.

“Please pull your head out of your ass,” Osamu snaps and continues to hold Yumi back from entering his brother’s room. “You were never his girlfriend and I’m pretty sure he made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with you a few nights ago. So why don’t you do the whole hospital a favor? Shut up and leave, because I’m pretty sure your excessive whining is disturbing the patients.”

Throughout Osamu’s annoyed speech, Atsumu had successfully pushed himself to sit on the bed without any assistance. He lets out a groan of pain and uses what little strength he has to press his back against the headboard of the hospital bed. Just as Yumi was about to retort, Atsumu calls for her attention from the bed. Yumi was quick to react, looking over at Atsumu. “Yes, baby?”

Osamu scrunches up his face in disgust and Atsumu can only let out a sigh, not having the energy to argue with her. “Please leave.”

The hopeful features that were splashed in her features disappear in a second at Atsumu’s command, “B—But…”

“Leave, I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” he sighs, tearing his gaze away from Yumi to look over at his brother who had turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes pleading Osamu to get rid of the irritating model from the premises, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer regarding a restraining order. Don’t think I didn’t hear from my son how some ‘mean looking lady’ had ambushed his mother yesterday on the way to the hospital.”

The model can only gape at Atsumu’s words, blinking in confusion. She stutters, “S—So—Son?”

“Goodbye now,” Osamu interrupts by sliding the door shut right in front of Yumi’s face, using her dazed gaze to his advantage by locking the door. Turning around, he arches a brow in curiosity towards his brother who looked nowhere near comfortable in his position, “Are you sure it was the right move to let Yumi, of all people, that you have a son?”

Atsumu lets out a frustrated sigh before waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll handle it.”

“How are you feeling?” Osamu asks as he occupies the seat next to Atsumu’s bed, “Judging by the look on your face, probably shit huh?”

Atsumu rolls his eyes before giving his brother a glare, “Yeah, no shit there.”

“It’s expected,” his brother lifts his shoulders up in a shrug as he leans back against his seat, “Your doctor did list down what you can and can’t do after this surgery, and well, what you would be feeling right after, so this is to be expected. Unless, you didn’t really listen?”

“Of course I listened, ya shit.” Atsumu snaps, brows furrowing.

Osamu lets a laugh escape his lips, a grin taking place on his lips, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Why is my head hurting so fucking bad?” he lets out a groan, fluttering his eyes shut in annoyance for the pounding headache.

“You don’t remember?”

Atsumu flutters his eyelids back open to look at his brother in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“You fucking got out of bed the moment you were put into this room after your surgery, you dimwit.” Osamu scolds him with a glare, bringing his hands up to massage his temples with the tips of his fingers, “You were told to rest, not to get out of bed. You passed out after the nurse tried getting you back to bed, in the hallway mind you, and Atsuhiko had to witness it. You didn’t know how scared the little boy was after you collapsed head first.”

Atsumu winces from the tone his twin was using, not that he cared for his brother’s scolding but it seemed the medication that was still in his system made everything sensitive, including his hearing. A frown makes its way to his lips at the mention of his son, “How about his brother? How’s Atsuhiro? His transfusion was just right after my surgery wasn’t it?”

“Stop talking and let me explain,” he sighs at his brother’s impatience but somehow he inwardly smiles at this side of his brother.

Since Atsumu had rushed out of the V.League Associations Party to confess his feelings to you, almost everyone noticed a change in him. Sure, he still attended training but according to Coach Samson, Atsumu seemed to be in top shape and even seemed to be more relaxed and enjoying his time on court. Of course, people who knew of the situation Atsumu was in, knew exactly the reason as to why he was in such condition.

Ever since the two of you cried to each other, keep in mind, in a hospital hallway, on the cold floor, there was an honest shift in the atmosphere that surrounded both of you. It was calmer and full of the warmth that Atsumu and you had been longing. And for the volleyball player, having the chance to spend some time with his kids was a huge bonus.

It made Atsumu feel complete.

Especially when Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro had started addressing him as their father. Yes, Atsumu was on different levels of high; the highest peak of Mount Fuji, Cloud Nine, heck he was just so happy he doesn’t want to let this feeling out of his grasp. And he’d be damned if someone tried to take such joy from him. There was no way that he’d let this good thing going for him slip through his fingers for as long as he lived.

So the very thought of Atsuhiko witnessing him collapse and fearing for his state was enough for his heart to hurt, he’d never meant to worry the little boy. As the father, shouldn’t he be the one worrying for his sons? He knows what his kids are thinking, having them (mostly Atsuhiko) bluntly express their fears of their father disappearing again. So the sight of him fainting in front of Atsuhiko had probably sent the little boy into panic. He’d have to make it up to him soon.

“It’s too soon to tell if the transfusion was a success,” Osamu stars, watching his brother inhale sharply as anxiety bubbled in his chest. “But so far, everything looks good. I was with them earlier when the doctor came in and he said he’ll be staying in for another day to monitor him. If everything’s good, he can leave the hospital and return every 6 months until he doesn’t need to have a transfusion anymore.”

He nods slowly, “And what about if the transfusion isn’t successful?”

“I don’t think that would be the case,” Osamu lifts his shoulders up in a shrug and gives his brother a reassuring smile, “Atsuhiro and you are a match, so far there aren’t any complications. It’s a success, ‘Tsumu. Don’t worry too much. Focus on getting better. Oh, and actually…”

Atsumu raises a brow at his twin, “What? You tell me not to worry and end your sentence like that? I ought to smack you if my body isn’t sore as fuck.”

A chuckle escapes the other twin seated on the chair next to the bed, a sly grin forming on his lips as he remembers the conversation from earlier. “Mom may, or may not be already planning your wedding.”

He splutters, eyes growing wide. He feels his cheeks heat up from the sheer thought of approaching you after his own mother had probably brought up the idea of marriage to you while he wasn’t present to stop her. Suddenly, he’s embarrassed to face you. “Please don’t tell me she had been pestering about marriage with my sons present.”

A smile curls up on Osamu’s lips at how his twin addresses the younger twins as his sons before he shakes his head in response, “Nah, Suwa-san took Atsuhiko out earlier for the day and I was keeping Atsuhiro occupied.”

“Suwa-san?”

Osamu rolls his eyes, “Reiji, purple haired dude that’s always with your girlfriend.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he grumbles underneath his breath, frowning.

His twin lets out a laugh as he teases, “yet. You two are practically married.”

“I don’t know…” he lets out a sigh, “Do you think she’d be happier with that Reiji guy? He’s been with her ever since…”

“You’re lucky you’re in a hospital bed or else I would have kicked your ass for that negative pea brain of yours,” Osamu grunts, unamused by his twin brother’s words. Sure, he often teased his twin but he especially didn’t like it when Atsumu put himself down over something serious. “Don’t go there. Just don’t. The two of you have talked things out haven’t you?”

“How do you—”

Osamu cuts him off with a dismissive wave, “She told me. We talked when you were being prepped for your surgery. Just be patient, you can’t rush these things and don’t you dare decide for her either.”

“When did you become the boss of me?” he scoffs from the bed, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling, “I just want what’s best for them.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His twin stands up from his seat upon hearing the knock, thinking it’s probably the doctor or you. Before he could unlock the door however, he glances back at his brother over his shoulder, “Stop moping and just be there for them whether you end up with her or not.”

Atsumu watches the hospital door slide open and his heart swells at the sight of you and Atsuhiko and he instantly wants to reach out when he notices the little boy’s lower lip quivering as he peers into the room. As the little boy’s gaze lands on Atsumu, the little boy rushes forward frantically.

“Daddy!” he cries out, throwing himself onto Atsumu’s body as soon as he gets near enough. Atsumu couldn’t even bring himself to complain of the pain from the impact due to the sight of his son’s distress, reaching out to run his fingers into the little boy’s hair, “You okay now? You scared me, daddy! You fell and you wouldn’t wake up! I tried waking you up but you wouldn’t!”

He tries his best to soothe the little boy who was clinging onto him from the side of his bed but Atsumu couldn’t contain the excitement he felt upon hearing Atsuhiko address him as his father over and over. He realizes that he probably wouldn’t ever get used to it but he wouldn’t mind hearing it all the time. “Daddy is doing much better. I’m sorry for scaring you, buddy.”

“Good, daddy. You and Hiro should get better so we can start playing together,” he nods his head happily, his mood shifting from his gloomy one upon hearing his father was okay. The little boy scrunches up his features into a look of distaste as he straightens himself up to stand, folding his tiny arms across his chest, “Daddy, the mean looking lady came again! She was yelling at mommy and saying mean things! Uncle Bo helped and I wanna help too but mommy said kicking someone isn’t nice.”

Atsumu turns to look over at you with a raised eyebrow as Atsuhiko finishes his explanation and you simply shook your head. Giving Osamu a small smile which he returns before leaving the room for the three of you. You turn your gaze back at the man who was waiting patiently for you to answer as you slide the door shut behind you, letting out a tired sigh. “That woman is not worth our time to discuss further, I’m taking legal actions though. How you ended up dating someone like her is beyond me.”

“She didn’t do anything to Hiko or you?” he asks, worry laced in his voice as Atsuhiko slowly crawls into the bed and snuggles himself into his father’s side. Atsumu notices you about to reprimand the little boy which he simply shakes his head towards your direction, lowering his head to press a kiss to the top of the little boy’s head.

“She couldn’t even if she tried,” you let out a snort as you approached the bed. He extends his arm out, his hand reaching for yours which you gladly take with your own and giving it a gentle squeeze, “You feeling okay?”

He nods, “A little sore but I guess that’s to be expected. How’s Hiro? Should you be leaving him on his own?”

“He’s doing fine, sleeping and our moms are busy bonding in his room, they said they’ll keep an eye on him,” you reassure him, “Plus this little one over here has been pestering me all day to check up on you.”

He feels his shoulder relax and a sigh of relief escapes his lips, lacing your fingers together with his as he lifts his gaze from Atsuhiko to look up at you, “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing fine,” you counter as the corners of your mouth tug down to a frown, “You gave us quite a scare, you know. We thought something had gone wrong with your surgery that caused you to collapse, turns out you were just being the stubborn idiot that you are. You really haven’t changed one bit.”

He places his other hand on his chest, feigning a hurt expression as he juts his lower lip to a pout to gain some sympathy from you which you simply responded with a shake of your head. The pad of thumb brushes against your skin and he lets out a defeated sigh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare either of you. I just wanted to see Atsuhiro.”

“I understand,” you nod as you finally take a seat on the edge of his bed, watching Atsuhiko listening intently to the two of you, his brows furrowed as if he was trying his best to comprehend the conversation. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I promise,” he nods, flashing you a cheeky grin which you just roll your eyes at.

Atsuhiko interrupts the conversation by tilting his head to look up at his father as he remembers the task his Uncle Bo had given him when he had asked a particular question after encountering the mean looking lady moments ago before begging you to visit Atsumu. “Hey, daddy?”

“Yeah buddy?” Atsumu asks, his heart swelling with pride upon hearing the word daddy once more, shifting his attention back to the little boy snuggled comfortably against his side.

“What does bitch mean?”

#atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #homesick

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kurinoot · 3 years

Text

[day 7] seven ethereal portraits | akaashi keiji

-> he was a piece of art, so you tried to make an art of him on valentines’ day, but unfortunately, you won’t be able to finish it all

pairing: akaashi x reader

themes: fluff with a bit of angst (I think?), post-timeskip, art student!reader

wc: 1.6k

note: so far, akaashi’s my fave fic here personally uwu (a pretty fic for the pretty setter uwu) bc he makes me feel fuzzy things :(

“Moving onto the seventh and final painting...”, you mutter as you were finally done with the sixth one for your series of paintings for your boyfriend, setting aside the newly finished work aside to settle and dry completely as you have been planning on giving him seven paintings that you started a week before Valentines’ Day.

Just as I planned… you thought.

Grabbing a fresh blank canvas, you started sketching on the last canvas as you let your hand dawdle the pencil around, your mind distancing itself from reality. You felt the heaviness on your shoulders before shaking your head, humming to distract yourself as you progressed through your sketch.

“Y/N, It’s time to eat!”, you hear Keiji’s faint voice from the other side of your studio, as the dishes clanged against the table. The faint aroma of your favourite dish entices you, pulling you back to reality as you compelled yourself to continue with the painting.

“It’s okay Keiji! You can eat without me! I just need to finish this for art school!”, you say loud enough for him to hear as you continue sketching his portrait. Your vision started to blur as you continued sketching while you forcibly hummed, your mind slowly autopiloting your hand as it made quick strokes of Keiji’s features in your mind, spraying water on the paint for your next work.

Akaashi, on the other side, could only look at your studio door as he sighed. It has been like this if you started working on your art projects, locking yourself in your studio for days, eating one meal a day through several restless nights; but your habits only worsened ever since you’ve started with your series of paintings for him this week.

He approached the door, giving a few knocks. “You’ve been like this for the entire week. You need to eat and rest, Y/N.” he crooned as he placed his ear against the door, hoping to, at least, hear your pencil strokes against the paper. “Y/N?” He called out your name once again.

Your weary eyes gazed in awe at the rough sketch. “Beautiful...” You mumbled as your finger traced Akaashi’s features on the paper before hearing his voice at your door, calling your name. You placed the canvas by the easel, covering it with a sheet as you went out of your room. Akaashi sensed your presence as you teetered slowly, haggard and dirtied with paint and charcoal all over you.

“Y/N… I know you’re very passionate about your art, but I’m worried about you. You really need to eat and rest.”, he scolds you with a sharp tone as he sees your being from head to toe, quickly coming to your side with his arm around your waist and a hand to steady you.

You scoffed as you let go of him, waving with one hand as you poured another cup of coffee, “This is nothing, Keiji. I’m okay!”

You went back to your studio with a cup of coffee in one hand, settling it down on a nearby table. You slapped yourself, waking yourself up as you started to set up your color palette, putting up small dollops of acrylic paint on your palette, mixing a few colors. You grab a couple of brushes, setting it up as you started painting your last valentines painting for your boyfriend.

For Keiji…, you thought to yourself as a smile forms on your lips.

You felt the fatigue start catching up on you once again as you felt the weight of your eyelids and the throbbing on your head. You brush them off as you continue painting, pushing yourself to finish it as soon as possible so as to catch up to Valentines’ Day tomorrow. You pause for a bit to check your phone only to see that it was already 11:30 in the evening.

You sigh, “It’s already that late?”.

You dismiss all thoughts of resting as you desperately tried to finish your painting, creating swirls and swathes of different colors as your brush stroked each minute in detail. You cling onto your paintbrush as you fight off any telltale signs of fatigue, gulping on the now cold cup of coffee you had made a while earlier to keep yourself awake at this point in time.

Or so you thought.

As time passes by, your head swayed as your vision became unbearingly blurred as you struggled with your brush strokes, smudging at unwanted areas. You brush it off, struggling to continue further as you now feel the soreness of your muscles. You massage your temples, trying to relieve the increasing aching pain in your head to no avail.

Akaashi knocks on the door of your art room, trying to check up on you. “Y/N, as much as I support you and your art endeavors, you need to sleep now.”

No reply.

He felt a chill run up to his spine, but a slight hope lighted his eyes as he found your door unlocked. “Y/N? It’s already late, time to—”

He felt his heart drop as his eyes landed on you, unconscious on the floor, a paintbrush within your grip. His mind went blank as he frantically rushed to your side, sweeping the strands of your hair away from your pale face, feeling your temperature spiking against his cool hand. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, lifting you with all of his strength, immediately running out of your shared apartment to the streets.

Y/N! Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest when you need to?

His mind screamed your name repeatedly as he desperately ran through the streets, the people frantically giving way as he carried you in his arms. His eyes looked around the area as he saw a familiar light emitting, entering the emergency area with you in hand. The nurses rushed to him as they pushed a hospital bed, inquiring Akaashi as they ran through the hall, pushing your bed. Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as his mind reels of different outcomes in every possible way.

The medical staff checked up on you as one of the nurses stopped Akaashi in his path. “She might have to stay here for a couple of days or a few weeks just to check on possible signs in the future. For now, if it’s okay with you sir you can pack up a few things for her and for you.”

“Thank you so much!”, Akaashi bows in gratitude as he pulls out his editor business card, “Here’s my number, if anything happens to her.”

Akaashi hurried back to the apartment, scrambling for his keys as he unlocks the door. He immediately makes his way to your shared bedroom, opting to pack up immediately as he pulls out a black duffel bag out of the cabinet and rushes back to his and your closet, picking. He continuously packs up necessities as he feels the vibration of his phone in his pocket.

“I thought I’ve already approved of it—”, Akaashi grumbles about the possibility of work only to find a message from an unknown number.

‘Good evening! This is from the medical reception; we would just like to inform you that L/N Y/N is in Room 1205. You can come for some paperwork to be signed with.’

Please… be alright Y/N..., he prays in mind, worried for you.

He finally zips the bag with a huff after finally settling with some comfortable clothes for you both as well as comfortable clothes for work as he will most likely come home to the comforts of the hospital to check on you still.

With the duffel bag in hand, he rushed to the entrance, although stopped his tracks as he passed by your studio. A feeling of guilt washes over Akaashi as his feet walk towards the door, stopping for a moment as he takes a breather before working up the courage to open the door, despite the memories and the sight of you lying unconscious still fresh in his mind, to the sight of an unfinished canvas painting as well as different portraits of what seemed to be a stranger. Looking closely at your unfinished business, he could only know and look so much as he sees your unattended palette, the paints threatening to dry. He grasps your spilled cup of coffee on the floor, albeit cold.

His eyes wander back to the paintings aside, walking to it as he removes and wipes his glasses for a second before looking closely as he notices a slip of paper sticking on the top of one that says ‘For Keiji. Happy Valentines’ Day! I love you so much!’ which only warms his heart. Looking at it as well as the other paintings, dawning on him that you were creating these paintings of him for him for the special day.

He gazed back at the unfinished canvas, noticing the rough sketches and the smudged areas from your hand. He clutches his chest in borderline pain as he realizes that you were making a painting of the two of you as a tear threatens to fall from one of his eyes, breaking his usual calm composure.

His eyes quickly picked the brush and palette from the floor, not long before grabbing his phone with one hand, replying back to the hospital.

I’ll be there later in the morning. Until then, please take care of her., his thumb hits the send, shoving his phone into his pocket. A smile forms on his lips as he eyes the looming unfinished canvas before him, gripping your paintbrush in hand.

“I’ll finish this painting of us, Y/N.”

back to valentines masterlist

#witchy.writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #valentines #haikyuu valentines #haikyuu fics #haikyuu imagines #14 days of valentine

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alexthemagicaldevil · 3 years

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Of Medea, Jason, and Other Tragedies

Some of you might remember a post I made a little while ago comparing how Quackity and Technoblade fit into the lore of the DSMP. Here are my thoughts via a 3k words of angst:

Read it on AO3

There was nothing left of L’Manburg.

It was something universally understood and known. Something that was never questioned. Something that everyone just accepted so that they could move on and not think about the nation that had too many traitors, too many broken promises, too many memories. It was something that everyone thought they believed so that they wouldn’t go looking for little pieces left behind, pieces that miraculously survived the desimation.

But Quackity knew the truth. Those little pieces could be found without looking too hard, whether it be in the fractured relationships of the SMP or the physical evidence that managed to not become ash at the bottom of a crater. And Quackity, well, he held both of those pieces in the palms of his hands.

In one hand, he held the souls of those fractured by L’Manburg’s memory. Fundy and his desperate need of a stable family, with a past scarred by a father that went mad and nightmares that haunt his waking actions. Sam and his futile attempts at control, gradually being poisoned as he pushes everyone away and tries to single handedly keep the server’s god locked in his own prison. Purpled and his lack of legacy, even in a place he so heavily influenced and his skills so valued yet so dismissed. Foolish and his beautiful builds and broken heart, running away from his destructive past and wanting peace despite the possibility of godhood sitting at his fingertips.

In the other hand, Quackity held a poster, one of the last remaining remnants of the place he had once fiercely declared home. He has no idea how it survived. Most of the physical pieces of L’Manburg that could be found were sections of buildings just far enough away from the explosions, items in random chests, or whatever was on the citizens at the time. Yet somehow, through all the fire and TNT, this poster had survived.

Technoblade. Wanted dead or alive.

Quackity had found it relatively soon after Doomsday, wandering around the crater where L’Manburg once stood. It was slightly singed on the edges and an entire corner was gone, but there it was, lying on the ground innocently, Technoblade’s mocking eyes staring at him with something like satisfaction.

He should have left the thing there. It would have eventually faded away like the rest of L’Manburg with enough time under the elements. Or maybe he should have burned it and forgot it was there in the first place. Whatever he should have done, picking it up, carefully folding it, and stuffing it into his back pocket was definitely not it. But he did. And it stayed with him for a long time.

At first, it was just there, a burning reminder in his back pocket of all he failed to do and what he promised to accomplish. It was there as he built Las Nevadas from the ground up, barely noticeable besides the constant nagging reminder in the back of his thoughts. It was there when he hired Purpled and Technoblade to take care of the Eggpire that had gone on for far too long, growing heavier and heavier each time the Blood God looked at him. It was there when he found out about Kinoko Kingdom for the first time, how the only three people he thought he could trust, the reasons he built Las Nevadas in the first place, left him behind without a second thought.

(The poster didn’t feel heavy then, but it did feel like it was laughing at him. Low and monotone, coming from deep within his memories.

The poster didn’t feel heavy then, but the two rings threaded through a chain around his neck did. They felt like shackles threatening to weigh him down and drown him.

Quackity removed the rings and hid them in a chest after that. Somehow, though, they still felt suffocating).

The poster was there for everything, tucked away in his back pocket, even when he began recruiting members for Las Nevadas. Through Foolish and Fundy, Purpled and Sam, and even through Slime. It knew everything, Quackity would find himself thinking. Of course, there was no way for a poster to know anything, but it didn’t stop the thought.

It wasn’t until after Wilbur visited him with Tommy after his revival (and so many memories of Pogtopia) that he finally took the poster out of his pocket. He was alone at the time (as he always is these days, it feels like, even surrounded by other beings) and in his unfinished casino. Sam had left nearly an hour ago to continue his duties as the Warden at the prison. The echoes of their conversation reverberated through Quackity’s mind.

Technoblade is going to the prison to see Dream tomorrow, he remembers saying. I trust you know what you have to do.

Of course, Sam had replied, the intense green of his eyes sparking in the dim lighting of the casino. You’ve done your part. Now I’ll do mine.

Quackity stared at the glass of whiskey in his hand. It had always Schlatt’s drink of choice, when he was still breathing. The smell reminded Quackity of the long nights he spent as Vice-President to a man barely sober enough to stand, let alone run a country. How many times had he put the smallest amount of poison in Schlatt’s drink, hoping that this time, it would be enough to end him for good? How many days had he spent hiding bruises and putting on fake smiles, wondering if it was all worth it? How many nightmares had he endured, thinking about everything Schlatt did and made him do?

He drank all the whiskey in one go. It burned his throat and pooled like fire in his stomach.

The glass made a satisfying thud on the counter as Quackity set it down. It was then that he finally reached for the poster in his back pocket, holding it almost gently in his scarred hands. He traced the edge of it with his finger, thinking deeply.

Quackity unfolded the poster, one fold at a time. The folds were deep from the sheer amount of time it’s spent in his pocket. It was honestly a miracle that it was still intact, given the state it was in when Quackity found it and the constant strain it’s been under since.

When Quackity finished unfolding the poster, he placed it against the wall and used his empty whiskey glass to hold it up. It looked just like he remembered, even back when the Butcher Army was first created. Sure it was faded and threatened to fold on itself at any moment, but it was still there. The reward, Technoblade’s face, the L’Manburgian flag.

Quackity stared into Technoblade’s red eyes. It was only a drawing, but whoever had done the picture nailed the resemblance to the Blood God. The scar over his eye and lip itched just looking at it.

“You know Technoblade,” Quackity found himself saying. “Before we met, I always had a healthy respect for you. Who didn’t? Everyone was in awe over the Blood God, the most terrifying fighter of our generation, rumored to never be able to die.” He sighed. “Of course, fighting was never my strong suit. You found that out first hand,” he added with some humor, though it felt flat. “Still, a part of me longed to do what you do. Words can only get you so far, get you so much respect.

“They say you should never meet your heroes. Something in that has to be true, because ever since I’ve known you, my life has been nothing but one bitter failure after another.” The poster didn’t reply, and Quackity understood with some absurdity that he was literally talking to a poster as if it were a real being. Still, he continued on.

“Well, maybe that’s giving you too much credit, but it sure feels like that. It’s just,” he trailed off slightly, moving his hands around, trying to figure out some way to articulate his point. Words were supposed to be his weapons, but here, vulnerable and trying to express something that’s been gnawing at him for so long, they scrambled in his throat. “Somehow you come out of every battle, every conflict without a single mark, yet I’m punished for every decision I’ve made since I came to this Primeforsaken SMP.”

And those words, Quackity realized, are when the floodgate inside his chest burst.

“No matter what you do, who you hurt, who you kill, what everyone wants or tries to accomplish, you have never paid for anything you’ve done to the people of this server. I remember when we took down Schlatt with Pogtopia, how you were so insistent that the government had to be taken down, all the while talking about how it was the people’s choice to live how they wanted to live. Well guess what, shithead? The people, L’Manburg, us, we decided that we wanted a government, one that listened to us and one that we could trust. And what did you do once the people made their choice? What did you do after we had called you our friend and said you didn’t have to live by our ways if you didn’t want to? You called us traitors. Said we used you, when all you ever wanted was an excuse to push your own anarchist bullshit down the throat of any server that would give you the time of day. You’re somehow the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever met, even in a world where Dream runs around as the Admin.

“But that’s not even the worst of your sins, isn’t it? I’ve watched you blow up countries with no remorse, execute a child on the whim of a dictator, corrupt and hurt every single person I’ve ever cared about, destroy what I put every ounce of my heart and soul into like it was nothing.”

There were tears aching behind his eyes now. Quackity took a shuddering breath, trying to calm his hurting heart. He thought about Schlatt and his time in Pogtopia, thought about Tubbo and Tommy and Niki and every other L’Manburgian face as they realized the nation they loved was gone at Technoblade and Wilbur’s hands. “And what were your consequences for all of this? What karma did the oh so powerful universe decide you deserved?

“Nothing. Not a single, goddamn thing. For all your violence and bloodshed, you get to live in a nice cottage in the Arctic, filled with friends that celebrate your birthday, and not a single regret.”

Quackity smiled blankly at the poster, raising his hands. By now he was full on pacing in front of it, his shoes making soft noises against the tile. All the while, Technoblade’s red eyes watched his every move.

“But what about me? Prime knows I’m the furthest thing from a saint this server has to offer, but at least I had good intentions. I went against Wilbur during the elections not because I wanted power, but because I saw what he was doing and no one else was going to call him out on his bullshit. I mean, come on! Running a single party election in a so-called democratic nation? Now, that doesn’t mean I didn’t do bad things. I should have left Schlatt the moment I realized just how bad he was. I shouldn’t have waited until after he ruined L’Manburg and executed Tubbo to join Pogtopia. It haunts me every waking moment.” Quackity stopped his pacing for a moment, lost in the memories. Tubbo screaming, the flash and bang of a firework. The explosion of color from the second firework immediately after, because the first one hadn’t been enough. The burning in his chest as he was hit with a firework of his own.

“And then, after you and Wilbur decided to blow it all to kingdom come, I did everything I thought was best for L’Manburg. I helped people. I rebuilt everything you destroyed and made it better. I wanted to hunt you down and make you pay for everything you did.” His scar began to itch again. “But I guess we both know how that turned out.

“And what were my consequences for this? For doing my best, realizing my mistakes, trying to fix them, trying to protect those around me? What karma did the oh so powerful universe decide I deserved?

“Everything. I was punished for everything. Every place I called home, every person I called a friend, every time I fell in love, anything I tried to protect, every time I tried to be happy, I was punished for it. Somehow in this fucked up version of the story, I’m the villain that needs to be punished for their actions, while you’re the blameless hero that gets a happily ever after!”

Quackity was near yelling at this point. It felt good to let out all of his emotions after so long, putting everything into the open even if no one else heard him. He forced himself to calm down slightly, running a hand through his hair.

“Have you ever heard the story of Medea and Jason?” he asked abruptly. The air of the casino seemed to shift uncomfortably with his sudden change of tone, lighter and lower than before. “You probably have, with your obsession with Greek Mythology and shit. You know something interesting about Medea, though? Even though she did horrible, and I mean horrible things, she never lost the favor of the gods. She abandoned her country for some random dude she fell in love with, plotted the murders of her brother and father, as well as murdered a princess with a poison so strong that it killed anyone she touched, and even killed her own children. Yet she doesn’t pay for any of it. Through all of the murder and sorcery, the kept her favor with the gods, and was allowed to have a happy ending. Hell!” Quackity let out a barking laugh. “She doesn’t even die as far as anyone knows! Greek mythology is known for its love of horrible and dramatic deaths, yet of all of the myths she shows up in, never once does it mention her eventually dying, even of old age! Sounds like someone else we know, doesn’t it?”

He paused for a moment, as if expecting a reply. Of course, there was none.

“Now Jason, Jason, on the other hand, we see something interesting. You see, he loses his favor with the gods, specifically his patron Hera, because he was trying to marry another woman even though he was already married to Medea and had two children with her. Can you imagine your patron goddess being the lord of marriage and family, and then you trying to marry another woman? The balls on that man, I’m telling you. The point is, none of his heroic deeds mattered in the end. He lost favor with the gods, lost his wife and children, and ended up dying alone, crushed under the weight of the Argo. The only thing left to immortalize his heroism ended up being the cause of his death.”

Quackity suddenly paused. His words echoed in the casino around him. No longer was he pacing. Instead, he stared long into the distance, as if he could see something through the thick walls. The weight around his neck was nearly unbearable. When he spoke again, it was just above a whisper.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is you are an awful lot like Medea. Doing horrible things left and right with the gods still choosing to favor you, still getting a happy ending despite all the pain and grief you’ve caused. But…” he trailed off, looking back at the poster. It may have been his imagination, but Technoblade’s eyes seemed less mocking, somehow.

“I have hope. Maybe you’re not Medea. Maybe, just maybe, you’re Jason. You’ll do something so terrible that you’ll lose your favor with the gods, lose everything that ever mattered, and you’ll be crushed under the weight of what once proved your worth.” Quackity walked forward, reaching out his hand. His fingertips stopped less than an inch from the surface of the poster, just hovering. Waiting. Contemplating.

“But I can’t wait for that to happen. I can’t wait for the universe to finally decide you’ve lost its favor.”

He dropped his hand. “You once said something, Technoblade. You said: treat others as they have treated you. That was your excuse for everything you’ve done. I tried to enact that saying once before, and I lost a life because of it. This time around…”

Quackity finally snatched the poster from the place on the wall, rattling the glass in the process. He refused to acknowledge that there was the finest tremble in his hands, making the poster shake.

“Well, the universe already made me the villain of this story. Might as well act like one.”

Quackity ripped the poster to shreds, piece by piece, one of the last remaining pieces of L’Manburg destroyed at his hands. Soon it was so shredded that it was unrecognizable, a pile of paper falling softly to his feet. When it was gone, it felt like pressure was relieved from Quackity’s shoulders. For the first time in a long while, he smiled genuinely.

He walked out of the casino, leaving the pile there for another day. He was sure Slime would clean it up without much fuss.

And if the weight around his neck grew to be nearly unbearable-- well, that was no one's knowledge but his own.

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damn-stark · 4 years

Text

Crossed Stars Ch.1

Star Wars x Marvel crossover

A/N- Ayye so first chapter! I’m excited and nervous, but overall glad of how this turned out. I hope you guys like the chapter and let me know what you thought!!

Warning- talks of death, angst, fluff, light swearing. :(

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged)

———

It had been two years since The Resistance beat the evil First Order and Emperor Palpatine. Six months since the galaxy had finally come to a peace agreement, turning into a new great republic. Three months since Rey began building her new Jedi academy with your help and the help of your friends and...General Poe Dameron.

You weren’t a Jedi like Rey, or had a famous family name like her and Dameron, neither were you special in a sense that you bravely left the once First Order like your best friend Finn, but you were special in your own way, you made yourself known throughout the years of hard work. A once moisture farmer turned General, it took years to get to where you were and you were proud...and yet you felt like something was missing, like their was something else you needed to do in life. Perhaps that’s why you were helping Rey out, to finally complete that missing piece.

“Just a couple more months and the academy is going to be ready. All our hard work finally paid off.” Finn beamed as he overlooked the unfinished building from a green hill in Ahch-To.

You playfully shoved his shoulder with yours, “Okay well, Jedi Master if you don’t get back to work it’s never going to be finished.” Instead of moving along he sits on the grass.

Finn shakes his head, “I’m not a Jedi Master. Yet.”

“Oh so you’ve decided to live your life in celibacy, Jedi Master?” Dameron jokes as he joins Finn on the grass.

Finn fakes a laugh and uses the force to push Dameron to the ground, which said man only laughs off as he sits up once again. You roll your eyes and attempt to leave but Poe comments as he watches you leave, “Leaving so soon, sweetheart.”

“The sight of you just makes me want to punch you in the face.” You retort with a feigned smile. Poe chuckles and just flashes a grin. A grin that makes you scoff, and want to....well punch him in the face.

Poe Dameron and you had always been competitive against each other..maybe you more than him, but it’s all the same. He’s always gotten everything he’s wanted, his title of Captain, his title of Commander and then his title of General. All without barely even trying, just him and his stupid perfect smile. All while you had to bust your ass hour after hour. It wasn’t fair. You only tolerated him now because of Finn, Rey and Chewbacca.

And as if you had summoned them with your thoughts Rey and Chewbacca joined too, leaving the work that was supposed to be done, completely abandoned. You would have left if it weren’t for Chewbacca picking you up and sitting you down next to Finn.

“It’s not going to be like that anymore. Rey is making a new order. Different from the ones before.” Finn informed his friend. “But let’s not talk about that now, overall I think we’re working fine, all things considered.” Finn eyes shift from Dameron and you before sharing a look with Rey.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You quirk your eyebrow, making Finn instantly regret what he had said.

“Just, well...” Finn shrugs, his eyes flickering to Rey and Chewbacca for help, but receiving none, “Poe and you are always arguing about stupid things, you know.”

“I don’t start it.” Dameron argues, “it’s always princess here that likes to start—”

Your lips part and quickly you snap back, “Oh please! You’re the one that likes things too perfect, nothing is ever good—”

“No, that’s not true—”

Chewbacca roars loudly, cutting off whatever it was the General was going to say. As a response you let out an irritated huff before crossing your arms over your chest.

“See what you started, Finn.” Rey says cheekily. Finn only shakes his head and wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you to his side. You’re stubborn at first to ease into his hold, but ultimately do it, resting your head on his shoulder and making him smile.

“Better?” Finn whispers.

You roll your eyes in a lighthearted way and answer in the same whisper, “No.” But that’s also where you’re unaware of Dameron’s lingering gaze on you, one he forces away so you wouldn’t catch him.

“Pushing all that aside,” Rey begins, “I’m grateful for all of you helping me out with this. I know that without you guys none of this would happen, so thank you.”

You smile and nod, “what is a family for? We’re here every step of the way.”

Chewbacca roars in agreement, while BB8 chirps happily at her side. Rey’s grin widens and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Y/N’s right, we’re family, we’re here every step of the way.” Dameron agreed.

“They’re agreeing with each-other,” Finn pointed out happily, “that’s when you know it’s true.”

You scoff and push Finn to side playfully, and just as he was going to return the action he went stiff, his smile dropping completely and his eyes desperately looking around as he held onto his chest.

“Finn, are you okay?” You questioned him as your own smile began to slowly disappear.

Rey noticed Finn’s strange behavior and also called to him, her eyebrows knotted in confusion, “Finn? What’s—” then she too went rigid, cutting herself off as her eyes expressed a mix of panicked emotions. She tried to stand up, but she quickly began to lose balance and would’ve fallen if Chewbacca hadn’t caught her in time. “Some-something’s wrong.” She muttered.

Finn tried to play it off like it was nothing and pushed himself off the ground and onto his feet.

Dameron stood up too and extended his hand to help Finn, but said man only waved off his help, “I’m okay..it’s just—I got dizzy.”

Quickly you stood up to your full height and looked desperately between Finn and Rey who looked anything but fine. Carefully you approached Finn in perfect time to catch him as his legs gave out. “Finn what’s wrong?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“I-I don’t know, I feel...” His breathing began to get heavy and panicked, “it’s—”

Finns words were cut off as Chewbacca called out in a low panicked growl. Dameron, Finn and you looked to him and saw as his arms were beginning to vanish, turning into dust and dropping Rey to the ground.

“Chewie?!” You screeched, tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked to his vanishing bottom half, whilst he roared out in confusion and fear. Dameron ran to him in attempts to help whatever it was that was happening, but as he reached the Wookiee his hands reached thin air as he vanished into nothing but dust in front of your eyes.

“Chewie?!” Rey sobbed.

“What-what the hell?!” Dameron questioned.

You stood frozen in place, unable to react to what had happened and only letting tears roll down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

Quickly you turned your head to Finn as he called out to you in a low voice. He looked to you and then down to his hands as he too started turning to dust.

“Finn! Buddy, what—No!” Dameron called as he ran to his friends side.

“No, no, no, no.” You kept repeating as you held onto him with a firm hold, like if doing that would help him from vanishing. Finn then fell to the ground, taking you down with him, his arms no longer around you as they vanished. He began to hyperventilate, looking between you and his other friends for help, tears rolling down his cheeks as he was utterly confused on what was happening. He said no words and just looked to you as he too vanished into nothing but dust, causing you to completely drop on the grass as the hold you had on him was gone.

In that moment of desperation you looked up to Dameron, but before either of you could comment, BB8 began to chirp frantically making you both turn to see Rey vanishing too. Instantly you rushed to her side, letting her take your hand as she cried quietly, her attempts to remain brave failing as her bottom half was vanishing.

“Stay strong, okay?” She whispered, as she held onto your hand tighter, her eyes turning to Dameron and smiling slightly like she had done with you, “the both of you.” Rey then looked up to the sky as the rest of her turned to dust.

Slowly you looked away from where she had been, letting out a shaky breath as your mind still couldn’t process what had happened. You had no answers, just questions, confusion and grief.

“Poe?” You quietly called out. He slowly pulled his gaze to you, both of you sharing the same lost and sad expression. “Wh-what happened?”

Poe shook his head, “I don’t know.”

—

The number of people missing throughout the galaxy was still unidentified, in fact their wasn’t anything The New Council knew for what had happened. People only have been running in and out of the briefing room since, Dameron and you came back to the capital. All of them like you still baffled, grief stricken and in-denial to the sudden vanishing.

The only thing you did know was that droids didn’t vanish, just all living forms, so at least you still had your astro-mech droid R2-D2. Besides that everyone you were really close with was gone, just turned to dust in front of you...well all except for Poe Dameron. He was here and you hated to think of such a thought but...you wished he had vanished instead of Finn. Were you horrible to think of such a thing? Yes. Yes you were, but he, well he just had a way to get on your nerves.

“Any new data on the vanished?” Commander Zuko asked you, making all eyes land on you as they waited for an answer, an answer you still didn’t have. One by the lack of reports and two, well your attention was not in this room, but on the image of your best friends vanishing in front of you. “General L/N. Reports.”

You snap your attention to the commander across from you, your eyes still red from the crying; “I-I don’t know.” You stammer.

“How do you not know? You’re a general and in charge of—”

“Commander Zuko, y/n..General L/N is obviously not in the right head space for any of this, take it easy.” Dameron quickly interrupted the commander, “neither of us are. What happened, was-was an unexpected tragedy.”

Commander Zuko shook his head, “A tragedy we need to figure out. Was it the First Order? Are they back again?”

Their had been more members on the council, like Finn for example, other people you liked and tolerated, but after this you were left with Commander Zuko, an officer two years older than you, and one of the the only remaining members that lived after the republic was killed years ago. He was a tall good looking man, with the darkest hair and dark eyes to match, but also with no patience at all. Which is why you didn’t tolerate him. You were left with the two people you didn’t. Yay...

“It’s not the first order.” You comment, “they’ve destroyed planets yes, but they wanted to take over the galaxy and the people. Not this.”

“Then could it be? Palpatine? The dark side?” Dameron questioned.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out now.” You shrug. Commander Zuko stood from his chair and walked to the transipersteel, quietly standing there as he watched the sunset. Beautiful and vibrant. Orange, red and yellow hues, that basked your face and showed the long expression your face expressed, the planet showing a beauty that gave off a calming and happy energy that no one felt. The sight made you want to cry again, and you would have if Lieutenant Connix hadn’t walked in.

“We’ve found something!” She exclaimed as she set down a datapad on the table. “Crazy energy readings found that happened at the same time everyone vanished.” Commander Zuko slowly made his way beside her, stroking his chin as a map popped up.

“Where is that? It’s not any star charts or a system we know.” Dameron wondered as he slowly pushed himself off his chair.

You focused your gaze on the map and the planets orbiting surrounding the one sun, finding it unrecognizable.

“Yeah that’s what we figured out, but all the energy came from that single planet.” Lieutenant Connix pointed to the small planet and enhanced the view. “Whatever happened here is because of that single planet.”

“one planet.” Commander Zuko mused, “it’s so small.”

“And it seems to be the only inhabitable planet according to the readings.” Dameron pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter.” You start, feeling a new sense of confidence as you pulled your eyes off the holomap and focused on the people around the table, “however small the planet is, we’re going. We need answers for what they did.”

“And if the confrontation leads to war?” Dameron queried.

“Then so be it.” You respond sharply, “they killed my friends. My family. And everyone in our galaxy, so if it leads to war then they will have a war.”

Commander Zuko smirked and turned to you, “yes, General L/N is right, our galaxy has suffered long enough. We will get justice.”

“Their is still Final Order fleets that are intact.” Lieutenant Connix added with a hint of a smile, “we can use those.”

Dameron turned to meet your gaze and nodded in agreement, “we’re doing this for them. For the galaxy.”

You smiled softly, finally agreeing to something he said.

“For the galaxy.” You all repeated.

—

The silence of hyperspace was deafening, filled with tension that basked every fleet not just yours. No one talked and if someone did it was to pass instructions or information, everyone was too badly affected by what happened to do anything. You were surprised people even volunteered to a potential war, those who didn’t were tired of fighting, or just not in the headspace after watching people vanish before them.

Why were you doing it? For the family you lost...Finn, Rey and Chewbacca, to get justice for them and well it beat being in a galaxy without them, and it beat being alone with your trauma.

The sound of rolling droids pulled your attention off the blue and white view of the passing stars of hyperspace, to see artoo and BB8. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Hi boys, having fun?” You question with a forced smile. Artoo answers with complaining beeping, also making BB8 do the same. “We’re almost there. So that means no more long flying, promise.”

Artoo does a sound that mimics a long sigh before moving by your side, while BB8 pulls out something he was hiding...a black metal object.

Rey’s lightsaber.

You take it from the little droid and examine the weapon, sadness once again presenting itself within you. You continue by pulling your gaze back down to the droid and patting its head. “You’re right, it’s good you brought. It wouldn’t be safe if you left it behind, people get desperate in times like these. Who knows who could’ve taken it.”

BB8 responds by chirping sadly at the thought of his lost friend.

“Yeah, I miss her too.” You sigh, placing the lightsaber hilt on the table next to you as you hear approaching footsteps that belonged to Poe Dameron. You meet his gaze for a second before focusing it back on the view of hyperspace.

“We’re almost there. It’s time to prepare your squadron.” He informed you as he took a seat next you.

You responded with a shake of your head before sighing, “my squadron is all gone, I’m the only one left. I can’t be red leader without any pilots.”

Dameron hesitated, not knowing how to answer your upsetting response. “Uh well...ever since snap died I’ve been needing a black two. You can fill the spot if you want.”

“And be your second?” You grumble, “no thanks.”

Dameron rolled his eyes but decided not to shoot back with a snarky remark, and instead chose to be gentle with his words, “look I just don’t want you staying here in the ship when you can be down there facing some action. And well I don’t think I know a good negotiator as good as you, you’re good with people. We need that if we want to know what’s wrong.”

“You can do it, General Organa always preferred you for that stuff. She said I had a temper.” You responded dryly, with no emotion or usual amount of spunk that Poe Dameron was used to hearing.

All he heard was a broken person, that was also something rare to hear from you, even after being tortured by the first order you didn’t sound like this. But it was expected, after all you did see the people you cared about vanish in front of you. Rey, Chewie and...Finn...whatever he meant to you, Poe didn’t know, all he did know was that you two could mean more than friends to each-other or...meant. But Poe saw that all happen too and he didn’t—well if he was being honest he wasn’t okay either, but he didn’t show it in front of everyone like you did, no, you just didn’t care anymore, not like before.

Again that was expected, but all he wanted to hear was your usual need for action, the encouragement and determination, the usual and not needed competitive attitude you had towards him. But sadly none of that was showing...but he was going to try and make you feel that again.

Dameron sighed and quickly stood to his feet, walking to face you with determination, “you can still keep your title, no black two or any of that. I just need you to fly with me. I’ve known you for years now and I don’t trust anyone else but you. So be in command with me, let’s get these answers and justice for our friends, okay?”

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze, showing a watery gaze, no smile but nodding in agreement nonetheless; “fine.”

—

“No shields, space stations, fleets or protective objects of any kind. Just...” you narrow your gaze on the floating satellites and scrunch your nose, “just satellites.”

“Yeah are you sure this is the planet?” Jessika Pava questioned curiously through the comms.

“This is it.” Dameron confirmed.

“I’ve got to give it to this planet though, it’s pretty,” Kare kun added as you all saw the mostly water covered planet.

“I guess,” you shrug, “I don’t trust it..” you trail off, “artoo, turn on all cannon blasters. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“We’ve got communication.” Commander Zuko reported in, “sending coordinates to the landing point, god speed pilots and if anything happens report it, we’ll be ready.”

Dameron proceeded to check in, “All pilots ready?”

—

As you landed your x-wing on the ground, you looked up to the sky, remembering once again after two years how intimidating the fleets looked like from the ground. You once fought against them, and now you were using them for a potential war, sounds almost poetic how that turned out to be.

Nonetheless you open the canopy and hop off your fighter, just like everyone else you came here with. Artoo sticks closely to your side and discreetly hands you the weapon from before, Rey’s lightsaber. You don’t even know how to use it, but you still take it l and meet up with the rest of your crew.

Carefully keeping an eye out for the species you’re supposed to be meeting. Theirs no armies of any kind surrounding you or warriors of any kind, just buildings made out of transipersteel, ships on hangers, and green pasture with one sun in the sky. Besides that, no looming threat, in fact they seem to be somewhat civilized, whoever they were.

The sound of artoo’s warning pulls your attention back, and to the location of where the noise of approaching footsteps is heard. Dameron and you meet each other’s gaze, sharing a knowing look that caused you to pull your blasters out and have it ready. For just in case. But once you see the appearance of who the footsteps belonged to, you’re not all threatened or scared, in fact you’re curious.

Theirs only five single people, one who seemed to be a droid and the rest just with weapons on them, but besides that nothing about them was threatening. They were like you, human. Well all except the little animal sentient next to them. Besides that they seemed reasonable. In fact the man leading the group looked the least dangerous of them all. He was tall, blond and handsome—now you hated to think of such a thing in an occasion such as this, but you couldn’t lie to yourself and think he wasn’t.

“Who are you?” The women with short blond hair asked, her just like you seeming to have the same surprised expression you and the rest of your crew had.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Dameron snapped back.

The man in the middle looked to his comrades and back to all of you, before confidently announcing, “we’re...The Avengers.”

A/N- was commanders Zuko’s name inspired from prince Zuko himself? Yes. Yes it was.

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Note

Waaaaaaah!!! I really liked you (internecine/oikawa tooru)!!! Can I ask for a part two? What happened with s/o-chan? Her ex(not Oikawa) is dangerous? Will Oikawa discover the truth? Thanks for writing so well!

A/N: DAMN THE SEQUEL YALL BEEN WAITING FOR dabbled with a smidge of iwaizumi x reader ;)) HANA THIS IS FOR US OIK SUCKERS I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY

sequel to this

querencia. | oikawa tooru

word count: 5437

warnings: blackmail and angst! (+slight gaslighting)

(n.) a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa was strict when it came to volleyball. He knows how riled up he gets whenever he does solo practices. Although that focus came with Oikawa’s obliging reticence, the absence of noise was really pissing him off.

“Oikawa, let’s go, dude. We have to lock up soon or the Discipline Committee will chew us out again.”

He noticed a slight glance from the captain’s sepia pools but Oikawa Tooru kept his lips sealed. This guy… Iwaizumi grimaced. “Hey, I know you heard me. Don’t give your old lady grey hairs by coming home late all the time. Let’s go.”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, are you devoted to anything?”

Iwaizumi hid a relieved expression. At least Oikawa was finally saying something in full rather than the half-assed responses he’d been giving out the past month.

“Huh? What’re you trying to say? Of course I’m devoted. To volleyball!” Iwaizumi didn’t mean to sound angry, but looking at his best friend’s current state, he couldn’t help but to clench in frustration.

The blue and yellow ball rebounded from the polished hardwood floors into the setter’s expecting grip. “…Was it that? The problem. My ‘devotion’?”

Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck in earnest before grabbing Oikawa’s wrist to drag him away from the fluorescent spotlight of the gym. Heaving two school bags over his shoulder with his limp friend on the other, Iwaizumi grumbled.

“I don’t get any of the shit you’re saying.”

Iwaizumi lied. He knew exactly what Oikawa was talking about.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Being in the Library Committee came with its own perks.

A peaceful workplace to drown yourself in your own thoughts

Full privilege to a lineup of all the volumes of Hirunaka no Ryuusei

Being the one and only member of the Library Committee

You had always enjoyed the tranquility that the magnificent atrium of papers offered—not a lot of people scourged for outdated reference books anyway. It was a welcoming interlude from your hectic life… Especially with your current state of affairs. But your head was stubbornly rejecting peace.

If it had been a couple months ago, Oikawa Tooru would have been sneaking into the library to avoid getting his head bashed in by Iwaizumi for being ‘too good at Old Maid’. He would have groaned and whined, subtly asking for your attention to make it all better. You would have refused, a blush betraying your response. Either way you would’ve surrendered to a single kiss after all.

The impression seemed so distant despite it being so recent.

Oikawa Tooru could find someone better than you. Someone who didn’t have this mess piled up upon their shoulders. Someone who wasn’t stupid enough to have dated an obsessive, creepy bastard.

You were so sure of the thought… but why do you keep remembering the taste of Oikawa’s lips lingering on yours? It had always suggested a hint of peaches and tropical mango juice. Flavors that had sparked fireworks in the depths of your belly.

In the end, you decided you would stop by Lawson’s after your duties to buy a mango ICE MONSTER bar. Just for the sake of the memory.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Ah. L/N-san.”

You cursed yourself to a million deaths. What on Earth did you pull to get karma this big? You were sure the constant suppression and cold shoulders from school were enough to cover for your sins against their volleyball superstar. But to encounter said superstar’s best friend at the convenience store (especially with your theatrical “baton pass” to him a month prior) was beyond your gravest punishments.

“I-Iwaizumi-san! Funny to see you here.”

“Ain’t this the only convenience store in the area though?”

God, you idiot. Just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?

In the deserted frozen food aisle, two Aoba Johsai third years stood faced off with one another. If it were one of your younger brother’s RPG games, Iwaizumi would’ve been an impossibly matchless boss level—emanating all sorts of auras that screamed ‘INDOMITABLE’. And you? A level one player with only a wooden stick at your siege.

Crossing his arms, he huffed. “Anyway, L/N-san, I wanted to talk to you about—”

You prepared yourself for another blow like always. He was probably going to talk about that. But this time, your legs acted faster.

“Um, I have to go! Goodbye, Iwaizumi-san!”

“Huh? Hang on a sec! L/N-san!”

Iwaizumi Hajime, ace of Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Club, was chasing you. Why was he chasing you?! Your head spun with images of him cutting you up into pieces to serve for Oikawa’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. Merciless. Brutal. Vile. Was this his way of getting you back for dumping Oikawa on his shoulders?

You let out a small shriek, zipping past a bicycle parked horizontally on the sidewalk. Maybe with his large size, Iwaizumi would have to slow down a bit, giving you a chance to—

Vaulting over the bicycle, Iwaizumi only became hairs closer to your hurrying form. “Wait! L/N-san!”

“Please don’t kill me!” You sobbed, turning into a corner. “I have a family I still want to come home to!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he yelled, the hoarseness of his voice striking horror in your legs. “You didn’t pay for your ice cream!”

“Ha?!”

After dropping off 195 yen on the shop counter and dutifully bowing your head to the cashier at least ten times, Iwaizumi escorted you to the store’s entrance, the light amber of the sky gracing his stern features. For a moment, Iwaizumi Hajime, ace of Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Club, seemed like a normal high school boy instead of the terrifying column of pure muscle.

“Sorry for chasing you like that… You got the wrong idea and everything too,” he chuckled, low vibrations bobbing in his Adam’s apple.

“It was my fault too,” you cringed, head empty with only the thought of your animalistic instincts kicking in to take you away from ‘danger’. “I was just shocked that anyone would talk to me right now.”

“…Is that so… B-by the way…”

You almost forgot that you had run away just as he was about to beat you to a pulp with his words. You held your breath, feet rooted in place now that you had learned that there was no way you could beat an ace in races.

“We’re on Cleaning Duty tomorrow, right? Don’t forget and bail on me like that asshole Takahashi does.”

Gradually, you felt a World’s Biggest Idiot crown settle on your head. You breathed through your nose and muttered a sullen “yes, yes” before turning around and going your own fine way home. Of course, after apologizing once more to Iwaizumi for making him chase you distances just so you would pay for your treat.

Watching your back shrink into the golden horizon, Iwaizumi scratched his head, heart heavy with the weight your words carried. He probably shouldn’t have stalled his real question to you like that.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Becoming the enemy of Aoba Johsai’s general public didn’t seem so bad at first. At least they weren’t doing all the malicious shoujo manga-esque type of torture. No carved out voodoo dolls or vandalized tabletops.

But the thought didn’t make your sentence seem lighter.

When you had been with Oikawa, everyone suddenly wanted to get to know you. To eat lunch with you. To invite you to hangouts. Now that you’ve broken him, your only worthy punishment was to be broken tenfold.

How cowardly of me. You scowled, the contours of the broom handle etching itself on your palms. I don’t even know if half of Daisuke’s threats were real…

If the texts hadn’t sounded so genuine, you would have probably been laughing it off with Oikawa right now. But you weren’t. And that made you hate yourself for it.

“L/N-san, you okay?”

Pulled back into reality by your ever placid Cleaning Duty partner, you cleared your throat and swept the remaining bits of grime onto the fluorescent green dustpan.

“Y-yeah. I’m alright,” you said eyes flickering from his sharp ones.

Iwaizumi must’ve had some sort of sixth sense because his doubting gaze did not falter the slightest. “Really? You seem especially off today, though. You hungry or something?”

Now he was toying with you. “No I’m not.”

As if it had been cued, your stomach growled and you gritted your teeth in defeat. Stupid, stupid digestion.

“If you’re free after this, I’ll treat you to lunch. We need to talk about some unfinished matters, L/N-san.”

“But—”

“It’s about Oikawa.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

The scent of pork and shoyu weaved into your senses, blinding you with flavor. In the midst of burly men and hearty-looking meals plastered in bold in the quaint shop’s menu, a small high school girl like you did not mingle well with her surroundings.

Sitting across from you was Iwaizumi, attention pinned on a flimsy laminated piece of paper with a list of ramen that seemed to drone on and on. In the heat of the place, both of you had shed your blazers, draping them over the back of your rickety seats. Seeing Iwaizumi’s sleeves rolled up, you shivered at the thought of what those arms could do to you if you had run away from him again.

“Master, I’ll have the Aka Tonkotsu ramen today. Large with extra pork slices as always,” he piped up, catching the brisk nod of the shop owner from the corner of his work station. “How ‘bout you, L/N-san?”

“Um… a glass of mineral water, please. Iced.”

The ramen master and Iwaizumi’s faces twisted into expressions of concern and offense. You were sure you had attracted the attention of few others too with your order… but what was so wrong with just having water though? It wasn’t like you really enjoyed ramen. And your visit here wasn’t really much of your choice…

“Come on, you have to have the ramen here. I’m paying anyway,” Iwaizumi wanted to add in a comment that the prices at this particular shop were extravagantly affordable, but he chose to miss out on that. “Do you like spicy food?”

“I suppose I do—”

Iwaizumi grinned knocking on the wooden table to gain the master’s attention once more. “Make that two large bowls of Aka Tonkotsu, Master!”

You sputtered, ears barely registering his words. “L-large? Iwaizumi-san, I won’t be able to finish that!”

“Huh? Why not though? Your stomach growled really loudly back at school, I’m sure you’ll down the entire thing in seconds. But it’d mostly be caused by how good the ramen here is.”

You noticed how the ramen master’s ears flashed a bright pink. Seriously, how blatant can this guy be with his words… You were sure with the way Iwaizumi talked, he could either have all the girls in Japan swooning over his honesty or have everyone else throwing nasty glances at him. You fell into the latter category.

“About Too—” you paused, although insistent on breaking the frosty wall between the both of you. “Oikawa. I-is he doing well?”

“Well he’s obviously acting more differently than he used to,” Iwaizumi replied in blunt, hands centered on trying to pull the modest pair of wooden chopsticks apart cleanly. Snap. A small chunk of the second chopstick had awkwardly stuck with the first; Iwaizumi frowned. “Why’re you asking? Didn’t you guys break up?”

You puffed out fumes from your nose indignantly. “Aren’t you the one who invited me here to talk about him? Iwaizumi-san, if you’re not going to say anything important I’d rather leave than have you toy with my time.”

Iwaizumi’s hand reached out to scratch his nape—an old habit you had noticed from him countlessly in class, especially when he seemed nervous. “Alright, alright. Geez… don’t tell anyone about it but I’m worried about Oikawa. Trust me, I can tell when he’s being serious about practicing volleyball and when he’s just plain… letting loose. I suspected it had something to do with you because all he’s been doing is mope around like a beaten dog after you dumped him.”

You gulped.

“Why did you break up with him? I know he could be a crappy jerk with volleyballs for brains, but I know he won’t put his ambitions over someone he cares about—he learned that from his first relationship. So why did you do it? Was he finally getting on your nerves too? Or did you get bothered by his fanclub?”

Your hands gripped your skirt until your knuckles turned white. Iwaizumi definitely wasn’t the first person to drop the question on you. But that didn’t make you less nervous whenever you had to respond. Deciding to dodge the bullet like always, you went for a simple “it’s complicated”.

“Two large bowls of Aka Tonkotsu ramen, one with extra pork slices!” the ramen master announced, a bell of dismissal to your relief. “Plus a glass of iced water for the young miss.”

Watching the master limp back to his post, you didn’t notice Iwaizumi sprinkle a dollop of chili powder into his bowl, his sharp gaze cutting through your body. “Whatever. I’ll get it out of you one way or another. You wouldn’t have told me to take care of Oikawa if it wasn’t a serious problem.”

You slipped a stray strand of hair behind your ear, picking up your own chopsticks in the process. Despite the fear that pooled in your stomach from Iwaizumi’s promise, you couldn’t help to anticipate for a person to share the heinous truth with. Murmuring a soft “thank you for the food”, you decided that the truth belonged to another day and enjoyed your meal in silence.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Apparently, Iwaizumi did see your mouth forming the request. When he had brought it up at the ramen shop, you felt your entire universe fall apart at its core. You wanted to punch yourself for even thinking up such an shameless action. Whispering to him to take care of someone he spent his life tackling was useless. Pressing your face into your pillow, you wondered if you could sleep yourself to dematerialization.

Tugging you out from your misery, your cell phone vibrated in vigor before dropping still on your bedside table.

From: Unknown

Subject: This is Iwaizumi Hajime

09:34 PM

Yo. It’s Iwaizumi, save my number ok? I hope you enjoyed the ramen. Did you get home safe?

Right. You and Iwaizumi had exchanged numbers after he had paid an amazingly cheap price for the ramen. The surprisingly succulent ramen that had you gulping down the bowl until it was drained—just like what he’d promised. You’d hate to admit he was right so soon though…

To: Iwaizumi Hajime

Re: [This is Iwaizumi Hajime]

09:36 PM

Thanks for the ramen ^_^~ Also, I got home in one piece, so don’t worry about it.

A few moments after you had pressed the send button, another text came flying into your inbox. Two texts. From two entirely different contacts. The first one was Iwaizumi’s.

From: Iwaizumi Hajime

Subject: You didn’t answer my question

09:36 PM

About our topic of discussion today… are you going to tell me the truth or not? I don’t want to pry it out of a girl, it’d be rude assuming we’ve only started to officially talk today. But just so you know, I won’t give up until I know the reason. It pisses me off to see Oikawa so moody every day. I hope you’ll understand.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard for a few moments too long to string together a coherent reply. Iwaizumi was a prime example of trust and valour. Sure, you had considered yourself a knight after ‘protecting Oikawa from your dangerous ex-boyfriend’, but now you just seemed like a jerk.

Scrolling over to see the second text loitering in your messages, you felt your blood vessels tighten. The sender’s name was seven syllables long. Seven syllables that you had hoped to never have to thread together ever again.

From: Masayuki Daisuke

Subject: None

09:36 PM

I knew you’d listen to me, Y/N-chan~ You were always such an obedient one, such a good girl. Now that that good-for-nothing playboy has his hands off you, we can be together right? Of course, we’ll have to wait until you graduate high school but that’s just a matter of time.

We’ll get married, Y/N-chan. I’ll make you as happy as you can ever be, even if we have to elope. I’ll even buy us a house in Tokyo, just where you wanted… You made a right decision to leave Oikawa, if you didn’t, I know it’d make you suffer just being in his presence. You belong with me, Y/N-chan, not with anyone above our insignificant roles. He’d make you feel small for the rest of your life… but I’m here for you.

I hope you won’t be unfaithful to me as we count down to the days when we shall begin our lives together. I love you~

Your lips curled into a flat line. All the blood had drained from your fingertips, leaving the fluorescent light of your cell phone to eerily illuminate through the limpid skin. You wanted to vomit, to wail, to look for and tell someone. But who? You couldn’t possibly run and cry to Oikawa. Hell, Iwaizumi and your ‘friends’ were out of the question. And your parents would overreact, making matters worse.

“I hate this,” you grunted, tossing your phone onto the couch across your bed. Maybe you could sleep it off like you usually did. Alas, you didn’t seem to receive a wink of sleep at all. This is bad, you finally admitted.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Iwaizumi Hajime had made it a habit (and a nuisance) to stumble in the library or other parts of the area after school to drag you to the ramen shop and fruitlessly attempt to wring even a droplet of truth from you. On the bright side, the food was always tasty, and you had adapted yourself to genuinely enjoy ramen as a delicacy. Plus, when it came to Iwaizumi’s savory bribes, you never even had to think about pulling your wallet out of your pocket!

Throughout the course of your ‘interrogations’, you had also learned that Iwaizumi was just an awkward puppy hiding beneath a shell of a raucous yankii. Of course, this was all fueled by his concern for his best friend, but nevertheless, you discovered that it didn’t take much to revert the almighty volleyball ace into a flustered mess of a high schooler.

You came to realize why Oikawa loved to tease him to the brim. And why they had stuck together for so long. In fact, if Iwaizumi had been a girl, you were dead sure that Oikawa would pick him over you—he was everything you weren’t and so much more…

Idiot, how long has it been already? Stop thinking about things like that, you braced yourself. Slapping yourself with the leather-bound cover of a weathered Chemistry textbook, you diverted your focus back on the cart of new books you were supposed to arrange.

Quiet hours in the library was especially your favorite time, of course, until Iwaizumi had recently interrupted it with persistence despite his prior knowledge that your duties wouldn’t end until half an hour later. Another trait of his, you had come to realize, was that he was unbearably annoying when he didn’t get what he wanted.

Hearing the clack of the library door’s swing (though much quieter than Iwaizumi’s usual loud shove), you scowled, eyes twitching in annoyance.

“Iwaizumi-san, for the last time! Stop coming in here if you’re not going to read or borrow a book. And don’t ask me the same question over and over again, I can’t tell you why it happened because it’s too—”

Crap.

You felt your heart jump at the sight of a pair of umber eyes that roused an emotion from deep within your memory. You almost didn’t recognize him. He looked taller, much more sturdy. And way too drained.

“Y-Y/N-chan,” Oikawa murmured, your name dripping honey on his tongue like it always had.

You didn’t even stop yourself from calling him by his name. “Tooru…”

You swore you could lock eyes with him for eons. Subtle glances in the hallway didn’t compare to being in Oikawa’s light. When you were with him, he made you feel warm. You missed that warmth. You missed him.

“What are you doing here?” you managed to sputter, eyelids freezing up.

When he broke from your gaze, you felt your heart plummet and shatter. “I just needed to look for a reference book for my English homework.”

It hurt. When you were dating, Oikawa never let the both of you dwindle in silence. He knew silence sickened you to the stomach. When you had broken up with him, he didn’t let silence waver over him either. But having the absence of noise barricading you from him, you felt cold.

“A-ah, you must mean Ogawara-sensei’s literary task…” you murmured, drinking in the appearance of his face, tracing pre-existing etches of it in your head. “Do you want me to help you look for them?”

How stupid of you to ask. Oikawa basically had the map of the library emblazoned on the back of his hand. You would know—it all came from the secret rendezvous he’d pull you into while you still had deemed yourself worthy of being loved by him.

“That would be nice,” he smiled shyly.

You led him into a warmly lit section pulsing with the livelihood of foreign words. Gliding between the wide space between the shelves, your fingers slipped through the seams across the books. It didn’t take you more than 2 minutes to locate a volume spilled with the wisdom you needed to ace Ogawara-sensei’s class.

“William Faulkner? I thought you didn’t enjoy those kinds of works,” Oikawa murmured, almost teasing as he thumbed through the fragrant pages of ink.

Eyes tracing the lettering of ‘A Rose for Emily’, you said, “I don’t particularly dislike this one. Tragic endings aren’t my cup of tea, but the romance really sucks you in.”

“I almost forgot how much of a shoujo otaku you were,” he chuckled, laughter like small bells tinkling in the soft wind. “You always look so serious, but figuring out that you were a sap was the funniest part.”

You puffed out your cheeks indignantly, “It’s not like I can help it! You want me to help you or not? Geez…”

Oikawa’s laughter ruptured in the great expanse, a contagious feeling bubbling in your throat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just— it’s nice to see you again, that’s all…”

Your heart burst into streams of golden confetti, drawing universes within your chest like Oikawa used to do. He was always more different with you. Less fake, more genuine. More honest. You still hadn’t figured out why he’d go after you, especially with all the pretty girls willing to throw themselves in front of a train for him. You didn’t even have enough guts to ignore your ex-boyfriend.

All the wondering made you dizzy, you wanted to sit down, but Oikawa’s desolate eyes chained you to your spot. Iwaizumi was right. He looked like he had thrown himself across the gym a couple times before staying wide awake for 48 hours. As much as you hated to admit, you wanted to help him.

“Tooru, I’m—”

“Found you!” Both of your heads snapped towards the library entrance, blasted open haphazardly by a burly third year student.

“Iwaizumi-san!”

“Iwa-chan?”

A sly grin crept up the boy’s features, making him look more of an ogre than usual. You felt an uneasy lump dissolving in the pits of your stomach, from the corner of your eye, you spotted Oikawa slumping in what seemed to be defeat.

“Just as planned. Now, anyone hungry for ramen?”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

This was by far the most quiet meal you’ve had with Iwaizumi and Oikawa—combined and separately. You didn’t even dare to excuse yourself to the restroom. You haven’t even touched your food either, for all you knew, it was probably already cold.

On the other hand, Iwaizumi was already stuffing his face with today’s special lobster ramen. “What’s wrong, L/N? Ain’t hungry? It’s your favorite dish too.”

Your brows pointed downwards in an annoyed scowl. Iwaizumi wasn’t known to be the best at reading situations anyway. You kicked his shin below the sunken space beneath the table, taking care that Oikawa wasn’t looking.

“Right! Nearly forgot,” if Iwaizumi hadn’t been someone who towered over you, you would’ve pestered him for being such a nuisance. “I damn hope you know why you’re both here.”

You gulped, cheeks reddening at the mention.

“Sorry, is there something I should know about?” Oikawa smiled faintly, a heavy air of concern draped over his shoulders. Sweat began to clump in your palms.

“Ha? Of course you do! You’ve gotta know why L/N broke up with you, right?”

“I-Iwa-chan! I don’t think that’s appropriate to talk about right now. I know for whatever reason Y/N-chan’s got for it, it’s a respectable choice.” Liar. You know I was just being a coward for not telling you, you pursed your lips.

“It’s only respectable until we know what it is,” Iwaizumi boomed, eyes boring into your shrinking figure. “Things don’t just happen for a reason, right, L/N? It’s okay if you tell us.”

“…”

“L/N, it’s for Oikawa’s good. Didn’t you say you wanted him to be happy?”

“Stop that, man. Don’t force her,” Oikawa’s tone wavered between anguish and warning. You almost wanted to leap into his arms. He was so close, sitting right next to you, but for some reason he felt miles away. “But…”

Sucking in a deep breath, you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “I don’t—”

The shrill ring of your phone shattered the torrential dilemma that hung in the air. Glancing at the number, you paled to the tips of your toes, all color lost from your skin. No, no, no, no. Not here. Not now.

Throwing your school bag over your shoulder, you stood shakily, hand gripping your phone like a vice. “I-I have to go.”

Turning your back on the two boys, you quickly hurried out the door of the shop, hands too tremulous to drop a tip in the glass jar adorning the entrance. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here? You’ve had enough. No more. Hanging around Oikawa and Iwaizumi was a deadly mistake you’d swore you’d never repeat. But you were a mere mortal who fell too easily to the temptations of forbidden love. A love you could never have.

“Y/N-chan!” a plush hand wrapped itself around your elbow, throwing you back against a solid wall of warmth. A distinct scent of peaches and mango juice pressed against the crown of your hair, a familiarity you would be forced to pry yourself from.

“Tooru, please…” a single drop escaped your quivering eyes, rolling down your cheek, clumping at your chin. “I can’t do this. You have to let me go.”

“At least tell me what I did wrong. Was I not devoted enough? Did I offend you in some way? Or did you find someone else…?” The bob of his throat wobbled against your head. “I’m sorry that I loved you. I’m sorry.”

To hell with it. Turning in his grasps, you looked into his glassy hues, shining with tears, laced with the afterglow of genuine affection. For you.

“Don’t you ever apologize for loving someone. If someone has to apologize, it’s me!” you barked at him, tears streaming down your face, hot in its trail. “I made a mistake for loving the wrong person. I’m sorry I had feelings for such a psychopath. This was before I met you. Now he’s out to get us and it’s all my fault…”

You paused, burying your face into his uniform, taking in the deep pitter patter of his heart.

“I’m scared, Tooru… He’s been sending threats to me. I don’t want him to hurt you… Please, help me,” you sobbed, ignoring the incoming echo of a lone walker approaching the scene.

“Y/N-chin?”

Dark eyes stared back at yours, emptiness filling it, only a murderous aura emanating from the figure. You watched as Daisuke’s fist closed, veins popping for the world to see. You wondered how your day could get any worse.

“Traitor! You left that bastard just to run back to him?!” he growled against the silent backdrop of the market district. “I promised you a life where you wouldn’t have to feel so inferior. I sincerely love you, Y/N. Why can’t you understand that we’re the type of people who can’t fit in with assholes like… him.”

When Oikawa stepped between the both of you, you felt your heart drop and hang dangerously on a thin string held together by your prayers. “Are you the guy who’s been threatening Y/N-chan the whole time?”

Daisuke turned to you, leering viciously. “Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Don’t do this to me, Y/N-chin. You belong with me. You know that.”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone. Leave her alone, she obviously doesn’t want to be with you.”

A quick gleam of a silver blade caught the gentle light of the setting sun and you felt your mouth go dry. Before a scream could escape your mouth, a vivid thud then a crunch thundered in your ears. You didn’t even want to open your eyes. You didn’t think you could even see with the flood of tears clustering your vision.

“Y/N-chan? Y/N-chan! It’s okay,” Tooru. “It’s okay now. I-I knocked him out.”

Wrenching your eyes wide, you saw Oikawa crouched next to you on the ground, rubbing circles onto your back as he nestled himself in your shoulder. Behind him was Daisuke. Laid spread-eagle on his back, the menacing cutter now seeming so small in his large grip. Next to his bruised head was a single volleyball shoe.

Just about the size of Oikawa’s sock-clad right foot.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

A month later

“Ain’t Captain awfully chipper lately?” Kindaichi muttered to his upperclassmen, balancing a ball on his fingertips, only to have it bounce to the floor in an instant.

Hanamaki, while unlacing the intricate knots adorning the nets, shot the first year an incredulous look. Sighing, he said, “You really haven’t heard at all, haven’t you?”

Kindaichi felt it would be too embarrassing to say. He kept quiet.

“He made up with his girlfriend recently. Turned out, she was being threatened by her psycho of an ex-boyfriend if she didn’t break up with him. The guy’s finally behind bars, so I guess that contributes to it too.”

Kindaichi’s eyes lit up. Oh, he knew about this. “I’ve seen that before on the news! Man, must be pretty scary for Oikawa-san’s girlfriend… I honestly wouldn’t be able to do anything if I were her. That’d put too much mental strain on me.”

From behind him, Matsukawa snickered, ruffling the boy’s hair casually, earning him a dirty look. “Don’t try to compare yourself to L/N-san. The tips of your haircut will catch fire if you had the same amount of stress she did.”

“Grilled Napa Cabbage!”

“Hanamaki-san, don’t tease!”

From the other side of the gym, Oikawa Tooru eyed his phone glassily, his pupils on the verge of forming hearts. It was over. It was finally over. Now he was back to his previous routine, with a dash of something new everyday. Same as always. He loved that always—that always was you.

L/N Y/N: I can’t wait to eat with you and Iwaizumi-san today! Thank you Tooru

Oikawa Tooru: Are you sure you don’t want to eat somewhere we usually do? I was a bit surprised that you invited us to the ramen shop ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭

L/N Y/N: Ehhhh??? Do I have to cancel reservations? Do you want to eat somewhere else??

Oikawa Tooru: Just kidding Y/N-chan~ ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) I want to see how much red peppers you can add to your broth before passing out ☆

L/N Y/N: Mean!! ( `ε´ )

Oikawa Tooru: Ehehe~

“Oikawa, let’s go. L/N’s probably waiting for us already,” Iwaizumi called out from the gym’s doors, mouth nearly frothing at the image of free bowls of ramen that he didn’t have to pay for tonight.

Waving off his best friend, he turned to his screen to type out one last message, a soft smile adorning his face. “Happy birthday, Y/N-chan. I’ll cherish you today, tomorrow and the days after that. Thank you for loving me as me.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime scenario #aoba johsai x reader #sfw #bruh haikyuu writing #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tooru x reader #hajime x reader

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sunarintoes · 4 years

Text

Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst

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tamakisuwu · 4 years

Text

— i love you too. | tamaki amajiki.

Tamaki Amajiki x Shy Insecure! F! Reader.

Summary : you show all the emotions that you’ve hidden so well to the person you loved.

Content : angst, fluff, one shot.

Warnings : insecurities, cursing, lots of stuttering!

your request is now complete!! I’m so sorry that it took so long :( I had a hard time with the plot– and the stuttering, omg. I was not used to writing 2 people stuttering but well– I still hope you like it sweets! and for any of you dealing with this– just know that you’re unique for being you and there’s nothing wrong about that! my chats are always open if you need any love! anyways, I hope you enjoy like always!! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Being shy was– hard. No, no, no, let me rephrase that. Being shy and insecure was hard, super hard if you were to be honest. Honestly, being shy was.. Okay? but being insecure at the same time? that was just a whole other level.

Useless, slut, whore,

useless good for nothing, stupid,

dumbass, worthless, fat, ugly, horrible piece of–

“H-hey l-l/n..” A shy, stuttering voice shouted shyly at you, making you snap out of your thoughts. You slowly looked up to the source of the voice only to see him. Your crush, someone who would never want to be with you, someone who would be better off without you, Tamaki Amajiki. “O-oh.. Hey A-amajiki.” You stuttered out, cheeks going red as you said his last name. You remembered him telling you that it was okay to use his first name but– that was just too embarrassing!

Tamaki’s cheeks went red as he heard your voice, this was honestly so embarrassing and so awkward! he honestly just wanted to face the wall or just go home. “S-so.. U-um.. My f-friends wanted y-you to c-come over a-at our t-table..” Tamaki says, shyly looking away from you as you stared wide eyed at him. From afar it honestly looked like two kids trying to ask each other out but failing, literally.

You stared at him, your eyes still wide as ever. You honestly didn’t know how to respond to that, you’ve never been asked this question before? were you supposed to say ‘Okay, lets go on a date!’ or something? you were panicking in your head, mentally saying your answer or trying to. You sat there staring at Tamaki, speechless which made Tamaki worry and panic with your lack of response.

Was this your way of saying no? were you actually saying no or? was he being too straightforward? questions were going around Tamaki’s head but with whatever answer he got, it made him nervous, super nervous. “You d-don’t h-have to s-say y-yes! I-I understand!” Tamaki stutters out quickly, turning around as he feels all the embarrassment fill up, he quickly walks over to the wall, about to put his head on it before he hears your voice shouting out to him.

“N-no! i-its fine.. I-I.. I would l-love to..” You shouted out quickly, cheeks tinted red as you looked down on the floor. You honestly didn’t know what you were thinking, when you saw Tamaki walking away from you– you shouted out to him without even thinking!

Your crush turned around to look at you only to have you staring at the floor, he awkwardly coughed, his cheeks still as red as yours. You looked up at him, eyes filled up with curiosity. “Okay.. F-follow me t-then..” Tamaki says, softly smiling a shy smile at you. You felt your whole face heat up as you looked away– damn it! he was just making you fall even harder for him and that wasn’t fair!

He was making you fall harder for him while you had to deal with the thought that he will never be yours and it just wasn’t fair! shaking those thoughts out of your head, you stared at your crush as he walked in front of you– god even his back looked hot– wait what? you shook your head once again, your face heated up once again as you realized you were thinking some very weird thoughts. You sighed softly, face still red as you followed Tamaki to the cafeteria.

──────

Gasping softly as you stared at the table in front of you. It was literally the big three’s table. With a slightly open mouth, you began to question a lot of questions in your head. Why did they wanna hang out with you? do they pity you? did they see that you had literally no friends and just pitied you? was that their reason? you were beginning to get drowned out by that small voice in your head that you didn’t notice the girl in front of you– Nejire calling out to you.

“Heeeey! l/n~ are you okaaaay?” Nejire asked, her head tilting slightly as her big, royal blue eyes stared at you with curiosity. This action however, made you more shy as well as nervous, you shyly looked away, your cheeks still the same as before– bright red. “I-I.. Um.. Y-yeah! I’m o-okay!” You said, smiling shyly. You were clearly lying to not only the big three but to yourself.

You honestly wanted to voice everything out, how insecure you felt, how useless you felt, how you weren’t perfect– the list could go on and on. “ That’s good l/n! I bet you’re probably curious as to why you were here and well– our Tamaki here, just wanted you here so.” Mirio says, ending the so with a big bright smile in which you smiled back, slowly freaking out on the inside as you didn’t know if you should believe Mirio or?

“O-oh! I’m s-sorry.. Y-you didn’t b-bring your l-lunch.. I-I.. I’ll g-go a-ahead and buy y-you s-some..” Tamaki stutters out, his cheeks and ears turning into a soft pink as seconds flew by. Your eyes widened, immediately shaking your head a no which made Tamaki tilt his head in slight confusion. “No! I-its fine.. I a-ate a heavy b-breakfast anyways so i-its fine..” You said, once again lying to everyone. “O-oh.. Are y-you sure?” Tamaki asks, not exactly sure if he should just be okay or just buy you in case.

Nodding your head at him, you smiled a shy smile– a smile that showed your teeth. You haven’t done this in a long time, you usually smiled a smile that didn’t exactly show your teeth but for now, you decided to since why not right? you immediately heard Nejire squeal in happiness? you honestly weren’t sure. “You look so adorable l/n!! you should show that smile more!!” Nejire shouts, making your smile disappear only for it to be replaced by a small grin. “U-um.. Okay..” You said, grinning shyly at her as you thought of what she said.

No its not. My smile’s anything but adorable, its disgusting.

──────

Over the past few weeks, you’ve grown much closer to the big three than you intended. You’ve grown a close friendship between them but you’ve grown much closer to Tamaki. Honestly, after getting close to the big three– your stuttering kind of stopped? you honestly felt so comfortable around them that you didn’t even stutter as much. The person that you grew very close to was none other than your crush, Tamaki Amajiki.

The two of you were were just able to hit the notch off when you started talking. Not only were you two the shyest people in the group but the both of you had very similar personalities. You’ve just hadn’t told him about your.. well, insecurities. Yes, you still had insecurities– its not easy removing that.

Every single night, you would look at yourself in the mirror, doubting everything– your looks, personality, your existence– just everything and you would even have breakdowns, even going late to school one day cause of your breakdown. You honestly tried to get rid of this insecurity but it was just so hard. Whenever you tried, that small voice in your head would always find a way to come back and you were just so tired of it.

Playing around with the pen that was in your hand, you softly yawned, looking at your unfinished homework with sleepy eyes– you were honestly about to fall asleep, you were so close to just passing out. Feeling your eyes close, your head leaning over to your desk, you were about to go to dream land at your desk, literally– “Hey y/n!! its Mirio! so Tamaki’s with me right now and he wants to say something to you!” Your eyes immediately opened once you heard that very cheerful voice outside your door.

It was Mirio and.. Tamaki? what did he have to say to you? at this time of night? slowly standing up from your desk, you lazily walked towards your door, opening it slightly, just enough for your head to peek out. You looked at the tw– wait. Why was it only Tamaki? ‘Where did Mirio go all of a sudden?’ You thought to yourself, tilting your head at Tamaki before opening the door fully. “Where’d Mirio g-go T-tamaki?” You asked, your curious eyes staring at his indigo one’s.

After so many weeks, you were finally able to call Amajiki by his first name, Tamaki. You always stuttered when you say it but– you were honestly so happy that you could go to first name basis without being a full on mess.”H-he w-went somewhere b-but!.. I-I.. Um.. I h-have s-something important to t-tell y-you.” Tamaki stutters out, his cheeks tinted with a deep, deep red.

You instantly noticed that he stuttered more than usual and you were beginning to get worried– was he okay? you smiled at him, walking over to the side to invite him in your room. “Sure! c-come in.” You said, still smiling at him while he nodded, slowly entering your room. You closed the door, walking over to your bed, immediately plopping yourself onto your bed, you patted the empty space next to you, signaling Tamaki that he should at least sit or lie down.

This action made Tamaki even more nervous however as his body started to shake slightly in nervousness. You, however did not notice this as you cough awkwardly to gain his attention. “So.. W-what do you wanna s-say?” You asked, your head tilting slowly to the side as you stared at Tamaki.

“I-I..” Tamaki stutters out, taking a deep breath as he was nervous and ready to die in embarrassment. I mean who wouldn’t? Tamaki was finally going to confess his love to his crush! the person he loved when he first laid eyes on you. If he was gonna be honest– he’s been planning this. He literally had a speech and practiced it in front of Mirio, himself, the wall, just anything in general– but now that he’s facing you? he’s nervous. Like really nervous.

Sucking in a breath before deciding to just say it quickly rather than a full on speech as Tamaki feels like– if he stays there for too long, he’d faint out of embarrassment. “I-I.. Ilikeyoualot.” Tamaki says quickly before releasing the breath that he held in for a long time. Tamaki glanced at you, only to find you staring at him with wide eyes, he immediately panicked. Were you gonna reject him? obviously you were, there was no way you liked him–

“Why?”

“H-huh?” Tamaki asked, surprised by your sudden question before slightly relaxing as you hadn’t given him an answer yet but he began to worry once he heard the sound of your tone. Why did you sound so sad? so heartbroken? so insecure?

“Why? why do you like me?.. I-I.. I don’t understand..” You muttered out, barely stuttering which made Tamaki worry even more. “W-well.. B-because you’re p-pretty a-and–” Tamaki explained before you cut him off almost immediately.

You couldn’t help it– you’ve held these emotions in for such a long time and it was killing you so slowly and painfully. “Don’t you dare bring up that pretty bullshit Tamaki! cause I’m not. Can’t you see that? stop saying stuff that you don’t even mean Tamaki.. It hurts.. It hurts..” You screamed out to him, staring at him with wide eyes as tears slowly started to fall down your rosy cheek. You were breaking– you were showing all the emotions that you’ve hidden so well to the person that you loved.

Staring at Tamaki, who was speechless, you let out a sob, more tears falling down from your now red eyes. You were tired. You were tired of all these emotions that were slowly eating you away, you were so tired and you just needed to let it out. “I-I’m not good enough for you– can’t you see that? everyday I see you with Nejire, fans, even Mirio for god’s sake and I can’t help but think that they’re better than me which is true. Everyday I have to deal with the thought that you’d be better off without me a-and–” before you could finish your small rant, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you in a tight hold.

Your eyes widened even more, tears still falling down as you cried out what you’ve been hiding. The emotion that you’ve been hiding so well, the emotion that was killing you so slowly.

“D-don’t you dare finish that sentence y/n. I-I like you for you. I d-don’t like you just for your l-looks, I like you because y-you’re unique a-and everything that I find a-about you is beautiful. Y-yes you have f-flaws but those flaws a-are what make you h-human and t-those flaws are what make you.. You. I l-love you as a h-human being, n-not as a fake girl who always p-pretends to be p-perfect.” Tamaki confesses as you gasp softly– with tears still coming down your eyes.

Gripping onto Tamaki’s shirt– which was stained with your tears but Tamaki couldn’t care less as he held you tighter.

Tamaki’s heart clenched as you told him what you’ve been feeling. You being insecure? why? you were literally perfect in his eyes. you were beautiful, cute, even your personality was perfect. Why couldn’t you see that? there were so many questions in his head but he didn’t ask. He just needed to comfort you, to be there for you, to love you.

He traced small circles around your waist, whispering sweet nothing’s into your ear as you cried onto him.

Calming down slowly, you slowly looked up to Tamaki, dry tears that stained your rosy cheeks. “T-thank you.. I-I.. Really.. Thank you Tamaki.” You said in a shaky voice, shyly hugging him and burying your face into his chest, inhaling his scent as you began to relax.

“A-and Tamaki?” You called out to him, your face still in his chest. Tamaki hummed softly, his hand combing your hair while his other hand drew small patterns around your waist– however, he stops all of this when he hears that one sentence– that one sentence that made his heart beat faster.

“I love you too.”

──────

omg you guys. it is now 4 am lmao– I started at 1 and ended at 4 am hdjsh. I actually made a draft but it sucked so I decided to make another one and I’m actually really proud of this– probably my best works out of everything. also, I’m very sorry for not posting yesterday 🥺. I felt very tired from school so I made a draft for this, fell asleep, woke up and still felt tired lmao but I hope this can make up for that :). for the other requests, don’t worry, I’m working on them hehe. feel free to request as requests are open!! 💛💛💛

#tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki #mha tamaki #bnha tamaki #bnha imagines #mha amajiki #mha imagines #amajiki tamaki imagine #tamaki amajiki imagine #tamaki imagines

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