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huneekrispee · 3 years

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Where is my lover?

Pairing: c!Dreamwastaken x gn!Reader

Summary: Living outside the Dream SMP, far from the war and chaos, Dream was able to find comfort in you. One day, he leaves, promising to come back to you. It's been months, now you're left wondering... where is my lover?

Warnings: cursing, use of dream's real name, spoilers for the Dream SMP Finale, tiny bit of fluff at the start, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been watching Attack on Titan recently, and the song 'Call Your Name' has me in the feels :( Sorry for being away for so long :( School has been an ass to me, I hope you enjoy it!! -Hunee <3

Also! Please don't mind the pronouns in the song! This is a gender-neutral fic, I merely just wrote the song lyrics as they are :)

She lost her brother a month ago

His picture on the wall

And it reminds me

When she brings me coffee... her smile

I wish I could be with her until my last day

In the forest, a cottage lays peacefully in a secluded meadow near a running stream. The tall trees lay their shadows onto the grassy floor, leaving marks from the sun. Water solemnly runs along, moving to its next destination through the stream. Grass rustles and a soft sigh is heard.

Stretching his arms above his head, a man clad in green slowly sits up, emerald eyes darting around. He yawns. "(Y/N)!" He's now standing up, searching for his lover. Dream's hand reaches down to grab his mask left abandoned on the grass, quickly putting it on.

Preparing his sword, his hand on the hilt, Dream slowly steps toward the cottage. He rests a hand on the door, waiting for something, anything.

A scream is heard.

He now slams the door open, netherite blade on full display, ready to attack. Looking around, he notices no one but (Y/N) in the cozy home, with a kettle on the ground next to them. Lowering his guard, sighing with relief, he sheathes his sword once more, walking over to his distraught partner.

"Are you alright?" Removing his mask, he takes their hands in his. Dream looks at them. (Y/N) looks down, taking their hurt hand out of his. Sighing, Dream quickly leads them over to the sink, running the tap. "What happened?" The coldness of the water helped soothe the burn. "I just, accidentally burnt myself with the kettle. It's okay, I'll live, Clay."

The man remained silent. The only sound heard in the cottage was the running tap water. After treating the burn on their hand, Dream leads (Y/N) to the chair on the side of the room. "You. Sit. I'll finish doing whatever you were doing. You just sit there and take it easy, you just burnt your hand." Bending down to their height, Dream stands face to face with (Y/N). He narrows his eyes slightly. He was always like this. Whenever (Y/N) got hurt in any sort of way, Dream was always on it, almost suffocating them with his overwhelming protectiveness.

They sighed, avoiding his eyes. "I- I was just... I just wanted to make you a coffee this morning. I know you're going to be busy later, so I wanted to make sure that you were energized for your work." Fiddling with their bandaged hand, (Y/N) smiled gently. "I see how you're always so dedicated to the stuff you do, and I wanted to return the favor, even if it's just a cup of coffee."

Dream's eyes softened. It was true, he was dedicated to his work. Running an SMP was hard, especially with some people interfering with his plans recently. He had plans to take power over the server again. Finding and taking everything his people were attached to was difficult, but at least he had (Y/N) to come home to. It was all for them. It was worth the hard work and pain just to see (Y/N) smile at him, showing him their love.

"It's okay. Thank you for wanting to do that, but you don't have to." Running his hand up to their cheek, he smiled. "I do all of my work for you, to help make a safe place for you. Once I sort out the rebellious people, I promise, I'll come back to you, and we can live together in my SMP." (Y/N) gazed up at him, looking into his eyes. They smiled, beaming at the idea.

"Alright! I promise I'll wait for you! I'll always wait for you. I love you, Clay."

"I love you too. I promise I will come back to you. Always."

He would do anything to see that smile on their face all the time.

She said she gave all her love to me

We dreamt a new life

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

It had been two days. Two days since Dream had left. (Y/N) had since then tended to the flowers and read a few books Dream had gotten them from a faraway village.

'I wonder what he's doing now?' Looking up at the sky, (Y/N)'s mind began to wander. What was dream doing right now? Maybe he was still on his way back to his SMP? Or maybe he was trading with villagers for resources?

They smiled. Dream had been one of (Y/N)'s lifelong friends turned partner. They had met when (Y/N) used to live in a village as a child. (Y/N) was nine and Clay was ten. Dream had gotten into a rough fight with two skeletons and a zombie. He was stumbling around, trying to find help for his injuries.

That was when (Y/N) appeared. Hearing the boy's cries, they ran out of their family home, taking Dream into the house to be treated, screaming for their parents to help him.

They had grown up together as best friends after that. Meeting George and Sapnap, the group loved to go on little adventures together and play their favourite game: manhunt. Dream would always insist on running, with George and Sapnap chasing after him. Sometimes, (Y/N) would join them, but they quite enjoyed seeing the trio panic during the game. It was fun.

A couple years ago, Dream visited (Y/N), saying that he was starting up his own SMP, a place where he and his friends could have fun and just be themselves all the time. The two of them spend hours in (Y/N)'s room, talking about their big plans and ideas for the SMP. Dream wanted to build a cottage near a stream, and live there peacefully with (Y/N). They were shocked, Dream wanted to live with them? "Why?" They asked.

"Well, because of... I'll just show you."

That was the day Clay had kissed (Y/N) for the first time.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

A month had passed. Nothing from Dream. Usually, he'd send a message through on their server communicator, asking how they were and informing them of his journey and new discoveries. But that didn't happen, not this time.

It was hard. Clay had been such a big part of their life that sometimes they found it hard not to worry about him. They knew he was strong, he could take down armies of people, but everyone had their limit.

Raising the iron hoe, (Y/N) swung down, making way for the new seeds of crops that would grow over the next few months. Wiping their forehead with their sleeve, they sighed.

All they wanted was for Dream to be safe, and for him to come back home once he finished his business in the SMP.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Heavy pants of breath echoed throughout the underground bunker. He was panicking. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

The plan was to kill Tubbo and make Tommy give him his disks.

It all went to shit when Punz showed up with backup, showing the people of his SMP that had turned against him fully.

"W-woah! Okay! Tommy, calm down!"

The blonde boy didn't listen, hands gripping the axe of peace and lifting it high above his head.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you Dream, right here, right now."

Dream silently gulped. For once, his plan failed. It backfired on him and blew up in his face. 'Sorry (Y/N). Guess I'm not coming back tonight.' He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to be back in the cottage near the stream, sitting with his lover.

His green eyes darted around to everyone in the room. They looked disgusted, some disappointed, others angry. He knew this would never change. He would never get his SMP back. They hated him. Wanted him gone.

"Does Y/N know you're like this?"

His breath hitched. Eyes went wide.

Sapnap had stepped forward, sword out, pointing it threatening at Dream. "Do they know just how bad you are? How corrupt you've become?!" He was yelling at this point. Sapnap was upset as well. It was hard to believe that his best friend would do all of these bad things, it hurt to betray him, but he had to do what was right.

"S-stop. Stop talking about them."

For once, Dream was vulnerable. He hated it. He was always so soft when it came to them. When it came to (Y/N). Sapnap knew that. He had seen it when they were together, how happy dream was when he was with them, following them around like a lost puppy, longing for their love. It went both ways, (Y/N) was the same.

"Who the fuck is- Nevermind. Dream. Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't-"

"Tommy stop." Sapnap stepped in again. "This is important to not just me but for another person as well." Tommy stepped back, axe still prepared to lash out just in case. Tommy kept muttering to himself, something about a green bastard.

"Dream. Where is (Y/N)? You said they would join the SMP with us, but they're not here, nobody has seen them, probably besides you. You said that they changed their mind about the SMP, or was that a lie too?"

Dream gulped, words caught in his throat.

"Tell me, you bastard! Where is (Y/N) and do they know?!"

"No. They don't know. All I wanted to do was protect them from something I knew would happen. The wars, the chaos of the SMP. They didn't need to be a part of that. I didn't want them to get hurt."

It was almost like a plea. Dream's voice was quiet like he didn't want them to hear what he was saying. Sapnap stepped back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. He was also upset, he hadn't seen (Y/N) in years, not since before the SMP started.

Tommy finally stepped forward.

"Now. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Dream."

"I can bring people back to life. I can bring Wilbur back."

I said I gave all my love to you

We dreamt a new house

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

Three months. It had been three long months without him. (Y/N) would spend every other night crying in their bed, missing him. They missed everything about him. No messages from him on their communicator. No death messages about him either.

They had never thought that three months could feel so long.

Surely he was busy doing stuff that would mean the world was safer for them. That's what he always said. He said that he worked for them and that he promised that they could settle down and make a new cottage near a different stream, closer to the SMP.

He said he needed to dig out the rebellious people and make his SMP a better place.

All (Y/N) could hope for was that he was safe and doing okay.

We don't know what is wrong tonight

Everybody's got no place to hide

No one's left and there's no one to go on

All I know is my life is gone

Dream was not feeling safe and right now he was feeling anything but okay.

Tommy had just broken his mask. Split down the middle, from the axe of peace.

He didn't want anyone to see his face, no one but (Y/N) and the people who had already seen it before he started wearing the mask.

His mask was his safe haven. A facade he could hide behind. With it gone, there was now no place for him to hide.

All he had done was tell Tommy that he could bring people back to life. When he mentioned Wilbur, Tommy seemed shocked, but then he seemed to come back to his senses after remembering what Wilbur was like before he died.

He went crazy. Insane. All because of Dream and his stupid motives. He only fueled Wilbur's change, encouraging him to blow Manburg up after Jschlatt took over. Thank God for Karl destroying the button the first time. The second attempt was successful and sealed Wilbur's fate as a psychotic, destroyed ex-president swayed by the masked man into committing destruction.

Tommy was angry at that. At the fact that Dream would even think about bringing back Wilbur.

Enraged, he brought the axe down onto Dream's cowering figure.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

Sitting up, (Y/N) slowly looked around the room. It was the same as always; no Dream insight. They woke up every day with a feeling of hope that they would turn around and see Dream at the door, back from his trip.

The situation was too much. (Y/N)'s breaths quickened, eyes blurring up with tears, the salty water slowly dripping down the sides of their cheeks. They let out a dry laugh, bringing up their sweater paw hands to their face, wiping the tears.

They stared at the sleeve of the hoodie they had on. It was green.

It was his.

He always left a spare here, just in case.

It always came in handy when (Y/N) missed him.

They sighed, flopping back down onto the bed, curling into themselves and the hoodie. It smelt like him. He always smelt like a run through the forest, with a hint of saltwater and citrus.

It was comforting.

He was comforting.

The tears wouldn't stop. Every time (Y/N) wiped them away, fresh ones would keep coming. Where was he? Was he okay? It was all they could think about.

(Y/N) hugged themselves, hoping to recreate a hug like his. It didn't work. It never worked.

Nothing could ever compare to his hugs.

Still sobbing, (Y/N) cried themselves back to sleep, despite it being morning.

Not like they had any motivation to do anything without the assurance of him being okay anyways.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Beep.

(Y/N)'s communicator went off.

Dream was slain by Tommyinnit.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #huneewrites #dsmp x reader #dream team x reader #dream x reader #dream x reader fluff #dream x reader angst #dreamwastaken angst #dream imagine #dream fanfic #dream x gn!reader #c!dream x reader #c!dreamsmp x reader

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elysianslove · 3 years

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Hiii! I loved your Iwa fluff headcanons and was wondering if you could do one with Suna? thanks <3

yesyesyes i would love to!!! iwaizumi’s version.

↬ when suna was younger, he really, really wanted a pet bunny. like he really, really loved bunnies, and would beg his parents day and night for one. he even made a really badly edited powerpoint on bunnies and why he deserves one (aside the editing, it was a very persuasive powerpoint. they filmed him while he presented it and the video haunts him to this day). his parents were relentless, though, and didn’t get him his bunny. instead, though, they surprised him with a cat. a cat isn’t as high maintenance since they’re very independent creatures, but can also be very fun. they figured any pet would make him happy. they were wrong. suna hated her so much and would never interact with her. like to the point where he nicknamed her “bitch” and now she mainly answers to that instead of her name. but all that only worked against him, and the cat just kept getting more and more attached to him.

↬ suna now loves her so much, and she’s just as attached to him. like he would kill for her, honestly. it’s his cat >>> everyone else. he has an album on his phone dedicated to pictures and videos of only her, and her bed is in his room because she always ends up sleeping there anyways. he realized later on when he grew older that a cat was the perfect animal for him, and he’s not sure if it’s a parents thing and they really knew or they were just winging it and hoping for the best, but she’s his favorite ever and he would risk it all for her.

↬ his favorite sleeping position with her would be when he’s casually laying on his back scrolling through his phone and she comes and crawls along him to lay on his chest. the warmth he feels within his chest like he just gets so giddy.

↬ suna is crazy obsessed with serial killer documentaries, horror movies, unsolved mysteries, everything like that. his favorite pastime is watching and reading these things, but honestly, it’s not even a like, “wow that’s so cool,” and more of a, “suna what is wrong with you???” type of thing, because he’s the type to have like insidious 2 in the background as he does his homework or gets ready or something. it’s kind of scary how unfazed he is with things like that.

↬ but! yeah he’s extremely brave when it comes to horror movies, borderline unhinged, but his biggest fear? his phobia, if you will? spiders. insects in general, really. he will scream like a sixth grader that’s yet to hit puberty if he sees a spider crawling near him. once he was peeing in the miya twins’ bathroom and some kind of cockroach crawling on the wall and nearly fainted. thank god he was already peeing because he would’ve pissed his pants either way. it’s so embarrassing for him, so he’s so good at hiding it. he just freezes impossibly when he notices an insect and doesn’t take his eye off of it until someone else notices it and kills it. there was this instance when they were at a training camp and he kept feeling as if something was crawling on him, but assumed it was just really hot and his skin was tingling from that. something was crawling on him, though, and it was not just really hot. Top 10 Most Traumatic Moments of his life, especially because atsumu’s first instinct was to record the whole thing.

↬ suna is extremely, and i mean extremely, touch-starved. physical touch has always made him uncomfortable for a reason unknown to him, so he never really accepted hugs or kisses from his family, and would feel so icky if he was roped into a group hug b by his teammates. so when he met you, he thought you’d be so against the fact that he’s uncomfortable with it, because who would want a partner that doesn’t wanna touch or be touched? turns out he actually craves it, and needs it badly, he just needed to take his own time and pace approaching it, and with how understanding you were, he doubted he could ever figure this out without you. he just took it slow, you know? but the more he touched you — held your hand, pinched your cheek, rested his head on your shoulder, pecked your lips for a few seconds longer than last time — the more he wanted you.

↬ when suna became comfortable with the thought and idea that yeah, he actually craves physical touch so damn bad, he wouldn’t stop touching you every second he could. he became insanely clingy, no matter if you were in public or alone. just always has a hand on you at all times. when he’s alone with you, he’s always trying to cuddle with you. you wanna sit and chill on your phone and not really talk? sure, just come do it with your head on his chest. you wanna watch a movie and munch on some popcorn and possibly share a drink? of course he’d love to! just come sit between his legs with your popcorn on your lap so he can steal some and also offer you some sips from the drink. you don’t wanna hug him after a game cause he’s too sweaty? that’s too bad, he wasn’t asking for permission. so you see, suna is a clingy mf. like latches onto you like a koala clingy <3

↬ suna’s music taste is very diverse. his favorite genre is alternative and rock, like the neighborhood, arctic monkeys, etc, but he also loves, loves loves glitchcore music, but also will un-ironically listen to kpop, and rap, and hannah montana’s old music too because why not. he just doesn’t care. if a song is good, it’s good. so what if it caters to a bunch of 12 year olds and not him? who decides that anyways?

↬ suna is very good at hair. like so good. as his sister started to get older, and her hair grew longer, she would sometimes ask him to do it for her before school. at first he was terrible at it, except maybe ponytails cause his hair was long enough at some point to push back into a ponytail, but everything else like parting her hair for pigtails or doing braids or a bun… he was just awful. so, in response, he’d just practice. he’d watch videos as he’s doing his little sister’s hair and be so focused, with his tongue sticking out a little and his eyes squinting as he tries to get it accurate. eventually, he becomes a master at it! you find this out when one day, as you’re just over at his house, his sister comes into his room with a hair tie and a brush and he just carries her up onto his lap and braids her hair as he chats with you and it was so endearing and so impressive and you genuinely believe that was the moment you realized you were in love with him.

↬ he offers to do your hair for you all the time now!! especially if you’ve just showered and are too lazy to brush it and tie it in some way, so he does it for you. he’s actually so, very gentle when brushing your hair, you don’t even feel a thing. if anything, it makes you really sleepy.

↬ when he joined the national team and started to become more and more of a public figure, he’d send you really explicit fan art of him and other teammates he was shipped with just to piss you off. if he was feeling really bold, he’d send you smut written about him. he says he wants to make you jealous. he just wants to provoke you in every way possible, really. one time someone made an edit plot twisting you and him to him and like atsumu so he downloaded video star and made such a bad edit of you and him and posted it on his twitter and instagram and it went viral. like it was one of those edits of just pictures flipping and hearts flashing and lights spasming all over the screen it was so bad it made you cry with laughter. that was his way of telling the world, no one but this person for me, right here <3

↬ i think he’d be very good at doing chores and cleaning and all that, despite how lazy he is. i just think it’s a habit kind of thing, where he grew up doing laundry and making his bed and cleaning his room and washing the dishes that he genuinely doesn’t mind doing it cause it’s natural for him. and he’s learnt to enjoy it.

↬ suna’s favorite color was deep, deep purple at some point, but now it’s between green and black.

↬ he’s caught up with all seasons of keeping up with the kardashians. please don’t ask him why, he doesn’t even know.

↬ once when you were out with him you just gave him a rock that was on the floor and he’s kept that rock with him ever since. like it’s in the drawer next to his bed and sometimes he just takes it out and holds it in his hand while he’s doing homework or scrolling through his phone.

↬ he spams you a lot. like at any time time of the day he just sends you a million videos of him doing the most mundane things; he sends you a video of him eating some almonds and at the end it’s just him going, “i’s good,” or him lip-syncing a song you sent him to listen to, or him trying to do eyeliner because why not. or maybe it’s pictures of him and it’s always ridiculous: him exaggerating him thinking, and then captioning it “thinking,” or just a picture of him on the roof with a peace sign and a pretty smile, or a close up photo of his face saying, “miss u.”

↬ he also spams you with memes all the time. and there’s no set type, it’s just all kinds. really corny memes and really cursed memes, wholesome memes and also memes that bully you. it’s all about the versatility.

↬ suna loves to sleep, he really does, but before meeting you, the only place where he could properly fall into a deep sleep was his bed. after meeting you, anywhere where you were next to him was the perfect place to sleep. if he had your presence near him he could sleep, it didn’t matter, especially if he was resting on your lap or shoulder or gripping onto your hand or resting his legs on your lap. he just wants you close to him, you know? like he feels so safe and comfortable when you’re around, it kind of scares him if he’s honest.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #suna x reader #suna headcanons #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro headcanons #suna fluff #sal's fluff tag <3

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kamotoshi · 3 years

Text

safe [chōsō x reader]

pairing: chōsō x fem sorcerer! reader

genre: fluff with (seriously faint) hints of angst

warning(s): contains manga spoilers for chapter 62!

word count: 2.3k

overview: after spending many years as a sorcerer, you’ve believed certain things to be true. but a chance meeting with a curse that’s developed into a deeper relationship changes your perspective.

notes: want some listening music? here are two songs that helped me write this: summer fling by kang + effervescent by toonorth

A quiet, but gasping breath fills your lungs with a pocket of cold air when you wake from a dead sleep with a start. Instinctively, your hand flies in front of you, directed towards the doorway to obliterate whatever intruder you automatically assume has roused you from your deep slumber. However, much to your surprise, you’re completely alone. Rubbing your eyes, you turn your head towards the alarm clock on your bedside table to check the hour.

Ah, it’s that time again.

With a gentle sigh, you slide out from beneath the warm covers, causing your skin to break out in a wave of goosebumps at the chill in your room that you throw on a sweater and pants to combat before heading to the kitchen of your small but cozy living quarters. Sleep refuses to relinquish its grip, and you ungracefully bump into a few surfaces in the process of preparing two, hot cups of tea and finding a blanket to drape around your shoulders.

The rush of crisp air that greets you when you finally make your way outside of your abode livens you up a bit, though, and you wrap your arms around yourself to retain as much warmth as you can. Following the stone path decorated with glowing lanterns brings you to the front gates of your school—a place you know to visit whenever you wake up with such a start in the dead of the night. The drinks in your hands radiate heat that staves off the bite of the cold as another gust of wind howls past you.

In the darkness of the night, only lit ever so faintly by the twinkling stars in the sky and the waning moon, your eyes search for the visitor who seems to have fallen into a habit of making their presence known around the same time on every odd evening. Sure enough, the thumping of heavy boots against the stone walkway winding near and through Jujutsu High’s campus draws your attention to a tall figure wandering around nearby. The baggy cream clothes draped over his body beneath a vest the hue of blood instantly give away his identity, along with the dark, spiked hair gathered neatly atop both halves of his head.

Before his name can leave your mouth, he turns around to face you, as if he senses your presence the same way you sense his on the nights that he chooses to visit. It’s almost as if he uses some unseen force to disturb you from your sleep so he can steal away anywhere from a few minutes to hours of your time. Of course, this possibility would seem at least the slightest bit insane to an average person, but, for you—a jujutsu sorcerer—it cannot be discounted for the sole reason of what your visitor is: a special grade curse.

Wordlessly, the man you’ve come to know as Chōsō after a twisted event that led to many more spontaneous encounters such as this approaches you. His dark gaze skims over your figure before settling on your own, making your heart thud gently in your chest. Placing his hands in his pockets, he glances at the drinks you’re holding and asks, “Will you come on a walk with me?”

As a sorcerer, it should be second nature to meet the request of a cursed spirit with a no followed by a prompt exorcism. However, in all the times that he’d come to visit, he hadn’t appeared to do so out of ill will or inclination to get some sort of revenge. He’d always sat on the outskirts of the campus or walked around the lush forest surrounding it with you, making as much or as little conversation as you’d liked. In spite of how powerful you knew he was and the nature of his being, you didn’t feel particularly put off by him. In fact, you often found yourself thinking about him and when he’d stop by next more than you probably should.

Slowly, you nod, passing him one of your mugs so the two of you can be on your way. “Thanks.”

The sky above is surprisingly clear, given the school’s location in Tokyo, aside from a few, lingering clouds that float past the moon on their way around the part of the world you call home. It’s oddly peaceful considering your company for the evening. But you’d never really felt uneasy in his presence to begin with. And you certainly don’t feel threatened now, with the way he only seems focused on trying not to spill any of the tea you’d so kindly prepared for him as the two of you traverse a dirt path near the school’s grounds.

It's also a bit ironic, you think, that the route you seem to have fallen into the habit of taking leads you near one of the many, small shrines—gems hidden amongst the forest’s depths—but he appears to have just as much of an affinity to the location since he never suggests going elsewhere.

Beneath the gentle, pale glow from above filtered through leafy branches extending over you, Chōsō’s features take on a soft, almost peaceful appearance. He seems to bask in the symphony of crickets singing as he takes a deep breath and sits down on the grassy hill directly beside you. His dark eyes dipping down to the lip of the mug in his hands before shifting over to meet yours catches you off-guard since you hadn’t realized you’d been watching him so attentively.

“Hmm?” he wonders and takes another sip of his tea. His voice and your own pounding heartbeat are the only things you can hear above the sea of noise.

Inquisitively, you ask him a question you’re sure he’s used to hearing: “Why do you keep coming here?”

He sighs and glances at the grass beneath the two of you before answering, “I get overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” you echo.

His head bobs in a slow nod as he tilts it up towards the sky once more, making his dark eyes twinkle in spite of the hint of sadness that seems to be lingering behind his gaze. “I’m always expected to do things. To pay the price of being granted my life here. And sometimes, all I wanna do is just sit and look at the sky.” There’s a small, but undeniable ache of empathy in your chest as you allow your eyes to flit over every feature of his face, searching for the words he’s not saying. But with his straightforward, unabashedly honest manner of speaking, it’s unlikely for him to leave you wondering.

After taking a drink to fight off the chilliness, another question leaves your lips. “You could go anywhere to cloud watch or stargaze, though. Why come all the way here?”

“I want to.”

Your fingers tap against the ceramic of your mug. “But being here puts you in a lot of danger. Why would you want to go somewhere like this to escape?”

Without a hint of hesitation, his dark eyes find your own once more as he states, “Because you’re here.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you filled with the ceaseless chirps of crickets during which you attempt to mask any effects of your racing heart and the heat crawling up your neck at his confession. However, the shock that strikes you like lightning must be written on your face, since his eyebrows furrow slightly with confusion at your reaction, and he adds, “I thought I made it clear I come here to spend time with you.”

For a few seconds, your lips make quivering, unsuccessful attempts at forming words your vocal cords won’t allow you to voice before you direct your attention to the mug in your hands filled with tea, instead, and try to regain your composure enough to speak. “W-Well, I knew that, but why?” is all you can inquire with a quiet murmur.

His chest rises and falls in a deep, shuddering breath as a cool gust of wind whistles through the trees. At first, you wonder, with the slight glossiness to his eyes and his sudden inability to meet your gaze, if his emotions are the source of the tremors you notice in his jaw. However, the realization that he’s cold soon reaches you at the sight of his arms folding across his chest. Wordlessly and without thinking, you close the little distance between your bodies and drape part of your blanket around his broad shoulders.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, uncrossing his arms so one of his hands can hold the side of the blanket you’ve given him while the other plants itself on the grass behind you. The unexpected warmth radiating from him that seems to engulf you in the tight space you’re now sharing makes it hard to resist the temptation of resting your head on his shoulder.

“I miss my brothers,” is the gently spoken truth that leaves his lips, “I wanted to give them a better life. My failure to fulfill my role as their older brother is something that weighs heavily on me, even though I know they’d tell me they forgave me if I had been there in their final moments.”

Following his moment of vulnerability, the two of you find enough courage to make eye contact, and you struggle not to lose yourself in the seemingly endless depths of his midnight-colored irises. With your faces mere inches away, you’re granted a closer look at him than you’ve ever had before, and it seems, from the way he’s watching you so intently, that you’re not the only one enjoying the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

The muscles in his neck tense with a thick swallow before he continues, “But when I’m here with you, I feel like it’s okay that I’m still alive even though they’ve passed. You don’t look at me with hatred in your eyes or expect anything from me in exchange for my existence. You accept me as I am.” Another gentle breeze dislodges a few strands of hair tucked behind his ear that you naturally move back into place for him before your hand warm from the drink you’d been holding comes to rest against his cheek. “Why?”

His fingertips ghosting along your own neck and cheek leave sparks of electricity on your skin in their wake. But you manage to organize the thoughts threatening to escape your mind at the tenderness of his touch enough to whisper, “When you fought with me instead of against me, I realized that maybe the way I’ve been taught to view the world we live in isn’t entirely accurate. You risked your life to save mine. You defied the rules about the world I once thought were true. And because you showed me that you cared about my life, I want to do the same for you.” A hint of a smile playing at his lips brings a warmth to you that you don’t think even the heaviest of blankets could provide. Taking a deep breath to slow your heart—which had been racing since he’d locked eyes with you—you ask, “Is that why you want to come here?”

“Hmm?”

“Because you care about me?”

He nods earnestly as his thumb skims over your cheekbones, and the adoration glimmering in his eyes like the stars in the night sky above brings your face closer to his. With a timidness you wouldn’t have expected from him, his lips meet with yours in a short, fleeting kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. The way you chase his after they separate, though, serves as a silent confirmation and has him deepening the kisses your lips return to his to share. Given his relatively blunt yet quiet personality, you’re pleasantly surprised by the slow, sensual manner with which his lips move against yours. You’re sure the two of you could remain in this secluded part of the woods forever, under the cover of the shadows masking you from the pale moonlight as you lose yourselves in the moment, but the reality of the situation marks its painful return when you pull away.

“I care about you a lot, and I want to see you more often,” he breathes, “But the last thing I want is to put you in danger. That’s why I’ve been visiting every once in a while and in the middle of the night.”

Moving your hand to his shoulder to rub it gently, you murmur, “I know; I want to see you too, Chōsō.” In an instant, his arms are around you, pulling your body flush against his, and the action fills you with a bittersweet feeling, since this is only the first time you’ve been so close to him, yet you’re unsure of when you’ll get to share more affectionate moments with him like this one. “We’ll find a way to make it work,” is the promise you whisper into his neck while he nestles his face in yours.

After a few, long moments of silence have passed during which your mind exhausts itself by tirelessly attempting to form solutions to an issue you never could’ve imagined you’d have in your lifetime, you start to relinquish your grip around Chōsō. He, however, isn’t ready to do the same, and refuses to budge.

Instead, he answers your curious hum with, “I’ll let you go back to bed soon, but is it okay if I hold you for a little longer?” Even though fatigue is starting to settle in, you consent and wrap your arms around him once more, resting your head against the side of his and nestling your face in his hair as you let your heavy eyelids close. “I’ve just never felt this way before.”

“Which is…?”

Your heart flutters against his chest in cadence with his own against yours at his answer.

“Safe.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #choso x reader #chōsō x reader

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 3 years

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 18 of 27: Revelations

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST CHOOSE ME INSTEAD PLAYLIST

A/N: So many people said that they suspect drama is about to happen at the Winter Dance. lol, you all know me too well. Thank you for all the support, my loves <33

Words: 4.5k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post war Warnings: mention of eating disorders, swearing

You saw him first.

He stood at the end of the stairs, next to Theodore Nott. The Slytherins were laughing about a joke that got drowned out in the chatter of the other students. Still, the scene unfolding in front of you tugged at your heartstrings. Nott looked up and when he saw you, he nudged Draco with his elbow and a smirk on his face.

You came down alone, nervously lifting your dress with one hand, trying not to stumble and fall. Draco turned his head and the smile on his lips warmed your heart. At the end of the stairs, he extended his arm and you took his hand. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on it – such an old-school, traditional thing to do. Something you would have rolled your eyes at just a few months ago.

“You look …”, he began but closed his mouth.

You looked at him and wondered if he liked your dress. (And also wondered why the hell you cared about that.)

“Stunning, beautiful, gorgeous,” Nott said when Draco remained silent. “All of them are words you could describe your girlfriend with, Draco.”

You chuckled and Nott took a step forward to greet you, placing a kiss on your cheek. You were surprised by the sudden friendliness. Nott had always been more on the quiet side, hardly ever engaging in house rivalries. Yet, he used to be cold and distant to non-Slytherins. So this gesture was definitely startling.

“What he said,” Draco smirked at you. “You’re beautiful.”

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself,” you admitted, reaching forward to touch the bow tie around his neck. “Who’s your date then, Nott?”, you asked the other Slytherin.

“Theo.”

“Hm?”

“Theo,” he repeated himself. “You’ve been dating for how long now? Call me Theo.”

“Okay,” you replied, even more surprised now. Had you made it into the inner circle of the Slytherins? Did they accept you already? “Y/N.”

“There she is,” Theo nodded in the direction of the stairs. “Have fun, see you later.” And with that, he left the two of you. You followed him with your eyes; how he walked up the stairs towards a girl with a smile that lit up the whole room. She wore a green velvet dress that complimented her dark skin beautifully. Theo kissed her on the cheek and said something that made her laugh. You recognized her – she was a year below you. And she was a Hufflepuff. And …

“She’s a half-blood,” you stated without taking your eyes off the couple.

Draco snorted. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you nodded, still in awe at the simple fact that someone like Theodore Nott would even see girls who weren’t purebloods.

“Why does he always copy me?”

You furrowed your brows at the comment and looked over to Draco. “What?”

He shrugged. “I get a non-Slytherin girlfriend and now he tries to do the same.”

“Merlin, Draco,” you rolled your eyes. Yet another thought entered your mind, one that caused nothing but confusion inside of you as you didn’t know what to do with it:

He said ‘girlfriend’. He didn’t put the ‘fake’ in front of it.

***

The Winter Dance was everything you had hoped for – and more.

They decorated the Great Hall beautifully. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in golden light. Snowflakes danced above your heads, vanishing into thin air mere inches before they would have touched you. There were tables with white and golden linens all around where students could take a break for a moment while getting something to eat and drink from the refilling plates. In the middle of the hall was the dance floor – so far, not many students dared to get on it. It was still too early. You spotted Luna and Neville, laughing and holding hands while jumping up and down.

“Can you consider this a dance?”, you leaned over and asked Draco. He raised an eyebrow in response but couldn’t hide an amused smile.

Soft music came from an invisible source around you. When you saw the small stage behind the dance floor, you wondered if there would be a band performing tonight like at the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament.

“They outdid themselves,” you said.

Draco shrugged.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on! You must admit it looks beautiful.”

“You look beautiful, darling,” he replied.

***

You don’t know if it had been minutes or hours since you walked in the Great Hall – all you knew was that your hair wasn’t in perfect condition anymore, your feet hurt and you were thirsty. Draco danced like a young god. That didn’t surprise you at all, however, you didn’t expect him to do it so freely.

At some point a band whose name you had never heard before started to play. The songs changed from teacher-approved to faster and louder music. It reminded you so much of the Yule Ball, it physically hurt.

There wasn’t much talking going on between you and Draco that night. Just a lot of laughing and singing and dancing. Happiness rushed through your bodies and in those moments, no one else existed. Only you and him.

That was, however, until your best friend tapped Draco on the shoulder: Astoria Greengrass. The two of you came to an abrupt halt.

“May I have this dance?”, she shouted over the loud music, a smug smile on her lips. The Slytherin looked gorgeous in her green satin dress and those emerald earrings that shone brightly in the light of the chandeliers.

“Astoria,” Draco said, out of breath. “Absolutely not.”

The smile remained plastered on her pretty face. “Just one dance? With your future fiancée?”

You raised your eyebrows at that. Without noticing it, the grip on his hand tightened. The constant reminder of their soon-to-be-made betrothal slowly turned annoying. Draco looked at you and your intertwined hands.

“No,” he repeated himself.

What she did next surprised you: she laughed. A short high-pitched laugh. You flinched. “Draco,” she purred his name, taking a step closer. “Just. One. Dance.”

And then it hit you. Like a tile falling from the roof of the astronomy tower, the realization crashed into you. For the first time in forever, you saw her. You looked beyond the beautiful face and what you saw frightened you. She was thin. So thin that it made you wonder how she could stand upright, let alone walk or dance. Her skin was pale but not a “Slytherins-that-spend-to-much-time-in-the-dungeons”-pale. No, it reminded you of a ghost when you saw the blue veins underneath it as it stretched over her sharp collarbones. Astoria gripped her dress tightly but it didn’t stop her hand from shaking. Dark circles underneath her eyes decorated her face and her lips trembled.

Something was very, very wrong.

“It’s fine, Draco.”

He turned his head quickly and frowned.

“It’s fine,” you said empathetically.

He didn’t understand. Neither did you. But the desperation found in Astoria made you feel … pity for her. Judging by her narrowed eyes, she sensed that as well – and she hated it.

You leaned over to Draco and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Before he could protest further, you left.

***

“That band is amazing, how have I never heard of them before?” You dropped onto the chair next to Ginny.

“Because you live behind a rock,” she replied. Strands of red hair hung into her face, her cheeks were red and she stretched her legs in an attempt to relax her muscles. “I haven’t danced that much in years. Everything hurts.”

You groaned in agreement. Letting your eyes wander through the Hall and over your classmates, you spotted Draco and Astoria. They stood together closely and Draco had his hands on her hips. It was a slow song and they moved accordingly, swaying to the music. He didn’t meet her eyes yet you saw how Astoria stared at him, her lips moving.

“Trouble in paradise?”, Ginny asked. She had followed your gaze and watched the two Slytherins with curiosity.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Then why’s he dancing with her?”

“Have you noticed something about Greengrass?”, you wanted to know.

Ginny tilted her head. “Huh.” Then she shrugged. “Not really. I’m not looking at her that often.”

Same, you thought ironically. You had so much contact with her and yet you never noticed anything else behind her strange behavior.

“She’s thin, isn’t she?”, you pondered.

Another shrug. “Aren’t eating disorders something they inherit along with their mansions and fancy clothes?”

Normally, that comment would have made you chuckle. Now, you didn’t react and kept your eyes locked on Greengrass. Ginny watched you awkwardly and was probably very relieved when Harry appeared with two drinks in his hands.

You wondered if Astorias appearance had anything to do with her odd behavior. Then again, you couldn’t really tell if her behavior was strange or not. You hardly ever spoke to her before this school year and had kept a safe distance from the Slytherins. Most of what you knew came from Draco and that wasn’t much. Besides, Draco had been too busy with himself this school year. You were pretty sure that he wouldn’t have noticed if anything was off about her.

A second song came on. Slow again. Greengrass was still talking but this time, she inched even closer. You narrowed your eyes.

“They’re cozy,” Ginny stated nonchalantly and Harry grinned.

That was enough. You rose to your feet swiftly and crossed the room in seconds. “I think I remember something about just one dance?”

Draco took a step back. Astoria copied him. She ignored you, staring at Draco as if she waited for him to say something. His face was blank, he avoided looking at her. The loud music blaring from the stage didn’t hide the heavy tension between them. You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

“Nothing, Draco?”, she finally asked. You barely understood it over the singing students next to you. “You have nothing to say?”

His eyes darted to you. The look in them caused a shiver to run down your spine. You had seen it before. After the evening in his dorm when he came to you again in the Room of Requirements. Guilt.

“Not tonight.” He straightened his back and reached for your hand. You didn’t resist. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Talk about what? About their engagement?

Astoria scoffed. “Well then,” she shot you one last look. “Enjoy your night.”

“Everything alright?”, you asked when she was gone.

Draco pulled you closer and the two of you started swaying to the rhythm of the next song. “Sure.” His eyes travelled over the crowd as if he was looking for someone. Looking for her.

You stopped and let go of his hands. “Don’t.” Your voice was calm but firm. You wouldn’t accept this behavior. You weren’t his mother or Zabini or even Greengrass, where he could just avoid questions and give one-worded lies as answers. “We’re beyond this.”

Draco sighed. You saw it by the way his chest rose. After another brief moment of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you from the dance area. He walked until the two of you had passed the tables and leaned against a few steps away from the huge wooden door that led outside.

“Is this about your engagement?”, you wanted to know impatiently.

Draco opened his mouth and closed it again. You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Kind of,” he admitted. “I can’t say.”

A cold, heavy feeling set in your stomach. “Kind of?”

Draco let out a deep breath and reached for your arms to pull you close again. This time, you resisted. “Yes,” he nodded. “I really can’t say.”

“You can’t or you don’t want to?”

“I can’t,” his tone grew harder at your accusation. You narrowed your eyes.

“Look, Y/N, it’s something that doesn’t concern you. It’s personal for her and I don’t know enough to speak about this to you. She asked me not to.”

“Our arrangement is personal too and I’d like to know if it’s going to end soon,” you shot back. The feeling in your stomach grew heavier when you thought about the word end. It had only just begun. You didn’t want it to end. Not yet, at least.

To your surprise, Draco just snorted. “What we have isn’t going to end anytime soon if I have it my way,” he tried to reassure you. Again, he reached for your arms. Hesitantly, you let him pull you close. “It’s just not my secret to tell.”

You sighed. A part of you had to admit that you understood where he was coming from. If anything, it spoke for his character that he didn’t just blurt out whatever she had told him. “Since when do you care about these things?”

“Slytherin’s honor,” he replied simply and shrugged.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?” The corners of your mouth twitched.

“It doesn’t matter if I like her or not,” he explained. “She told me something and I won’t repeat it to others.”

“Because she’s a Slytherin?”

Draco nodded. “When three out of three other houses hate you, you have to stick together.”

You chuckled and leaned against him. “Makes sense. I don’t think everyone hates you though.”

“There are always exceptions to the rule.”

***

Late that night …

“The Weasel is looking at you.”

You chuckled against Draco’s chest. “I guarantee you, he looking at you.”

It was late and only a few of your classmates could still be found in the Great Hall; most of them sixth and seventh graders. Some of the teachers sat together on a table, watching the remaining students.

After the talk with Draco about Greengrass, you had gone back to dance and drink. It’d be lie to say you simply forgot about this even though you were certain that Draco would tell you all about it when the time came. But of course, the nagging feeling didn’t leave you. What could she have told him that was so shocking? What secrets were left in their families that he wasn’t able to look her in the eyes afterwards?

Only when Seamus slipped you one of his famous drinks did you start to relax a little and pushed the thought to the back of your brain. It was the same for Draco even though you saw how his expression would change once he spotted one of the Greengrass sisters. Was Daphne involved?

Involved in what?, you wondered when he twirled you around.

“Hm.”

The sound made you look at the Slytherin. “What is it?”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?” You followed his gaze. Ron stood a few meters away from you, hands on Hermiones hips. She had her eyes closed as she moved to the slow sounds, unaware of her boyfriend’s preoccupation.

“I still can’t believe you let him-“

“Draco!”, you glared at him.

He shook his head before asking: “Was he any good though?”

You snorted. Was he serious? Judging by the way he waited for an answer, he was. “I had my fun,” you finally said diplomatically.

Again, Draco shook his head. He looked back and forth between you and the Weasley. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that information.”

“Don’t ask me stuff if you’re not prepared for the answer,” you gave a half shrug.

***

The stones felt cold against your back when Draco pressed you up against the wall. The teachers had officially ended the Winter Dance just a few minutes earlier. Not wanting to go to bed early (or rather – go to bed separately), Draco and you snuck outside to the inner courtyard.

There was a storm raging on tonight. It rained heavily, the drops clattering against the ancient walls and the air was chilly. The two of you didn’t notice any of it. All you felt was his body against yours and his hands on your hips. He kissed you, deep and slow, with a longing that you blamed on the alcohol from Seamus. You buried your hands in his hair, chuckling as he playfully bit on your lower lip.

“Hey lovebirds! Get a room already!”, the interruption broke your kiss.

Draco cursed under his breath and turned his head, ready to tell them to leave you two alone. The words got stuck in his throat when he saw who it was.

Ron and Hermione looked at you, accompanied by Harry and Ginny. Rons stare reminded you of the one you got on your face when Moaning Myrtle would overflow the toilets again – utterly disgusted. Hermione squeezed his hand, a mixture of annoyance and nervousness written over her face. Ginny looked the same and Harry just seemed deeply confused.

“Oh for fucks sake!”, Ron exclaimed dramatically when he recognized Draco.

“Ignore him,” you said and held onto his arms. “He’s not worth it.” Despite the loud noises of the rain, the Redhead heard you.

“Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, Malfoy!”

Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“Ron, please,” Hermione chimed in, now more annoyed than nervous. “Let’s go inside. It’s late.”

“Yes, why don’t you just piss off, Weasel?”, Draco scoffed.

“Or what?”, Ron spat. “You tell your father?”

You rolled your eyes but Draco was quick to answer: “No, I’ll make just sure you’ll end up in the same place as him.”

“Ron, let’s go,” Hermione insisted.

He ignored her. “Oooooh, now you really scared me, Malfoy!”

“Draco, come on.” You sensed that this would end badly if no one would step in. Your eyes flickered to the door leading inside the castle, unsure whether you wanted a teacher to come out now or not.

“Ron, we’re leaving!”

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. They had taken a few steps back and you saw how Harry opened his mouth. Ginny hissed something and he closed it again.

“No, we’re not done here.”

Your eyes darted back to Ron at his sentence. “Not done with what, Ron?”, you barked. “Just fucking go back inside. There’s really no need for this.”

He stared at Draco. The Slytherin straightened his back and his posture told Ron without any words what he thought of him. I’m better than you, it screamed. Arrogance dripped out of his every pore. You were taken aback by it – not having seen this side of him for a long time now. You had almost forgotten it was still there.

A sense of dread washed over you when you realized: Something’s about to happen.

Suddenly, a smug expression appeared on his face. Oh-oh.

“What?”, Ron spat out when he saw it.

“Nothing,” Draco replied but the smirk stayed.

“No, you arrogant prick! Spit it out!”

“It’s just hilarious how obsessed you are with her. Still.”

Lightning struck and your blood froze. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Draco, don’t!”, you hissed.

From the corner of your eye you saw how Hermione frowned.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ron still sounded firm but he grew pale. You were sure that Hermione noticed it as well.

“Sure,” Draco leaned against the wall next to you.

“I don’t know what she told you but –”

Anger. The feeling that began to boil up inside of you was exactly that – the anger you had swallowed down for months now. The rage, Draco had managed to calm down at least for a few weeks. He had made you forget it was even there, turning the memory of Ron and your last summer into a distant dream. Something so insignificant to you, it made the flies living in the Forbidden Forest seem more important.

Now, it was back. Right when you realized that the coward wanted to lie about you and him again.

“That sentence better not ends with ‘it’s not true’,” you blurted out. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Wait, wait, what’s this about?” Hermione took a step back. Deep lines decorated her forehead as her eyes darted back and forth between you and Ron.

Her boyfriend turned to her, wanting to reach out but she wouldn’t have it. She was now outside the shelter from the roof and raindrops landed on her pretty red dress. “Nothing, Mione,” Ron said. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You scoffed.

“Just help me understand one thing, Weasel,” Draco – falsely encouraged by your reaction – began again.

“Draco, don’t!”

“Is this about the fact that she’s with me now or because you’re still in love with her?”

Lightning struck again.

“Draco!”, you gasped and so did Hermione.

“Okay, shut the fuck up now, Malfoy!”, Harry finally chimed in. “Let’s go!”

“No, no no,” Hermione muttered. You hardly understood her over the storm. “Wait, I don’t get it.” She raised her hands. “Ron, what’s going on?”

“Hermione …”, you began and even Ginny, who had been quite until now, started talking. More voices mixed in together – Harry and Draco cursing at each other, Ron trying to get Hermione to listen to him.

“QUIET!”

Silence. Immediate silence followed her scream. Hermione took a deep breath. “Quiet now!”, she repeated herself. “Everyone, please.” She turned to Ron, her voice surprisingly calm and collected again: “You’ve been acting weird around Y/N for months now. Don’t think I didn’t notice. What’s going on?”

More silence.

“Ron.”

“I … we …”, he stammered. Your heart sunk.

“Oh god,” the muggle expression slipped out of her mouth. Tears began to form in her eyes.

“Mione …”, Ron began.

“You weren’t together,” you quickly said, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference now. Yet, you had to try. “It happened over the summer when you were … on a break. He ended it because he loves you and wanted to get back with you.”

Ron nodded violently. “Yes, yes, Mione, I love you so much!”

“You lied to me for so many months? Both of you?” The look of betrayal in her eyes broke you.

There it was. The lie you had carried with you for months now. It was all out in the open. You had often wondered if the guilt would vanish once the truth would be out. Now you found out that it didn’t. No, in fact it felt even worse. You lied to your best friend, a person who’d take an Unforgivable Curse for you.

And it wasn’t the only lie you told her.

“I’m so sorry …”, you whispered.

“She didn’t want to unnecessarily hurt you! That’s why she didn’t say anything! It meant nothing!”, Ginny suddenly said. Harry’s eyes widened.

“You knew?”, Hermione croaked.

Ginny opened her mouth, then closed it again and looked down to her feet.

“Oh god, oh god …”

“Mione …”, Ron took a step towards her into the rain and wanted to grab her hand.

“No, I … no,” she shook her head, not looking at any of you. “I need … I need space.” She pushed his hands away and turned around. Hermione hurried back inside, almost tripping about her dress twice.

“Mione …”, Ron cried after her.

“Don’t.” That was Harry. “Give her some time.”

For a while, no one said anything. An awkward silence settled between the five of you. Finally, Ron cursed and left as well.

“Why was I the only one who didn’t know about this?”, Harry looked at Ginny.

“Because you’re oblivious to everything and everyone around you,” she replied.

He raised his eyebrows, knowing she was probably right. “Not cool though, guys. Not cool.”

Ginny sighed and turned to you. “You have to fix this.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Another sigh left her lips, then she took Harrys hand and both of them made their way back inside the castle.

There were no sounds except for the howling of the wind and the thunder in the distance. You kept your eyes locked on the door as if you expected Hermione to come back outside any minute now. After a while, a shiver ran down your spine. When you felt Draco putting his jacket over your shoulders, your head snapped in his direction.

“Why the fuck did you say that?!”

He furrowed his brows. “Y/N …”

“Answer me!”

He sighed. “Someone had to say it eventually and –”

“Yes,” you interrupted him. “Someone. Not you! That wasn’t your place.”

“Her own boyfriend lied to her for months now!”

“As if you give a single fuck about her feelings, Draco!”, you fumed. “Stop pretending this was about anything over than your sick need to make yourself feel superior to everyone around you!” You pulled the jacket from your shoulders and threw it at him. “By Merlin, you’re still the same fucking jerk from third grade, aren’t you, Malfoy?!”

***

When you heard the footsteps on the stairs, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Fucking hell, why did he have to care so much?

About an hour had passed since you stormed away from Draco, right after insulting him. You had wandered through Hogwarts – dodging annoying ghosts and Filch until you finally hid up here on the Astronomy Tower.

You wanted to talk to Hermione. Wanted to clear the air and apologize. You never meant to hurt her … not that this excused your behavior at all. However, you knew that she wouldn’t want to see you tonight. She needed time to cool down and you wanted to give that to her. Besides, you were way too upset yourself for any kind of productive talk.

“How did you find me here?”, you asked him.

“I searched all of your usual spots,” Draco replied and sat down next to you. “You’ll freeze to death up here.” He was right. The wind on the Astronomy Tower blew relentlessly. He pulled his wand from his jacket and mumbled a spell. Warmth spread around the two of you, trying to soften your cold and stiffened muscles.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you mumbled. “You hate it up here.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“You never want to come here.”

Draco shrugged. “I used to come here quite often. Grew tired of it eventually, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence as both you watched the dark clouds in the night sky.

“I’m sorry,” Draco finally said.

You remained still.

“It wasn’t my place. I just wanted …”, he stopped himself. “I’m sorry.”

You glanced at him. He stared at the wand in his hand.

“You’re not a jerk,” you admitted. “Sorry for that.”

When you insulted him, it came from a place of misdirected anger. He wasn’t the responsible one for Hermiones pain. That was you.

“I am though.”

You chuckled. “Maybe. But you’re not the same jerk from the third grade.”

A small smile appeared on his face. You scooted closer to him and leaned against his body. Draco put an arm around you and together, you watched the storm.

***

A/N: A lot happened in this chapter :D Looking forward to your thoughts on it! Thank you for reading! <3

CHAPTER 19

Choose Me Instead Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

Tag List: @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @renaissance-confiance, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @scoote-rankle, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @just-addicted-to-bangtan, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen, @natsiboo, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings, @slytherinprincedracom, @katiaw2, @saintkore, @nctnight, @lifestragedy, @obxmxybxnk, @spideydobik , @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @dracomalfoyswifey, @jpow345, @realistic-breadstick, @abbs-is-tired, @alwaysbeanunknownfan, @niallsarmveinstho, @is-this-a-febreze-commercial, @acciowilltolive, , @sexytholland, @faangirl101, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @mendesmuffinsss, @lilxnvm, @kill-the-teen-memories, @darkusangelus, @itsbebeyyy, @hesaidimcrazy, @jenniweaslee, @hpxpjo, @brisbubble, @xomaymay, @shitnstuffillregret, @serialkillme, @angel-tears15, @panicattheeverywherekid, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @nobleking, @tashii-blr, @ddaeing, @randogirlo-fando-main, @sadgirlnumber92899, @captivateing, @bitchyegirl, @smiithys, @ninipoo1, @intheawks, @nothanksnyla, @calpal-4ever, @dracosathenaeum, @belsandthings, , @kiwi-sloan, @xdmx, @lexi-ravenclawdracomalfoy, @kvyenxay, @live-awkward, @babebenhardy, @bitchysweets-blog, @cravingmusic, @frau-moon, @ohissandhalasta, @broken-but-beautiful-cassie, @lil-black-heart, @vminenthusiastt, @dracos-sluts, @mrmoonyy, @saucysuazo, @fuzzzwald, @matsuno-nadeshiko, @amber-arsenault , @loveableasshole, @spideycures, @echpr, @shiningstar-byulxx, @twinklebug2282, @bloodiedroses, @klthmef, @ostorian , @bi-chai-tea, @maddieisnotok, @amandaluvssupernatural, @makeoutwithstiles, @i-am-addicted-to-tea, @tenclouds, @lovingdracomalfoy, @lannaax, @dr-bitch-bby, @fallinallinmendes, @suckerforparker, @runninglownad, @piercinghorizons, @dosicas, @yanaaaaaaa, @akzer300500 @hoseokslily, @dracofeltonmalfoy, @emilianamason, @tothemoonwithclifford, @gcldreinhart , @angelofthorr, @k-k0129, @musicalmuffindog1410, @andydre4m, @mxl-foyrecs, @seeinorange, @vlgsqd , @justmimithings, @allthevoicesinmyhead, @pipppaaaaalouisee, @yessirrz, @2think2twice2 @spencerreidisbootiful, @find-a-little-faith, @thatguppienamedbae, @emmamarie7708, @dontpanicitsdan @jordaangx, @ceeellewrites, @drxcomvlfx, @7minutes-tomidnight, @coldheartedslytherin, @wingardiumdepressionosa, @perfect-storm95, @danisaur1324, @unlikely-y-bliss, @trentdijklfc66, @saptediavoli, @treestarrrrrrrr, @aangsupremacy

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #nekoma #kozume kenma

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errorpeachy · 4 years

Text

☾ Will He? ☽ 《Bakugo and Izuku X Reader》

Song: Will he - Joji

Angst?... Angst.

TW: Mentions of cheating.

Things had been difficult.

You stared at the boxes that littered your room floor, absentmindedly fiddling with the promise ring you wore on your left ring finger. You could probably sell it- it looked like it was worth a lot. It didn’t mean much to you now anyways. Sighing, you flopped back onto your unmade bed, goosebumps rising as you felt cold air waft through the AC vents in the ceiling.

It had been a long night. You moved everything out of what was once you and Bakugo’s apartment, purposely doing so while he was on patrol. It hurt a lot- you had been together with the blonde for a total of 5 years, living with him for three. In all honesty, you thought that you two were bound to get married at some point, as did all of your friends. You seemed to be the only one who could compliment his temper, even though it had calmed down throughout the years. Apparently, you were wrong.

It had gone on for two months. For two months, you excused his behavior. You excused his late night visits to the bar, thinking it was just hero work getting to him. When he came home late, you excused that too. You wrote off his immediate showers as him just being smelly from work. And when you walked over to hug him and he pushed you away, you let it go. You refused to think about why he smelled like perfume that wasn’t yours, and remained willfully ignorant. Of course, you knew deep down something was wrong. He no longer gave you the soft smiles he used to when you got excited over something. He held you when you slept, but you didn’t hear a word from him in the morning. No good mornings, no kisses, not even a grumble about how you’re too hot and you need to get off of him, nothing. The concern was eating you from the inside out, and you needed to know what was wrong.

And soon, you did.

“Hello! Thank you for calling Ground Zero’s hero agency, how may I help you?”

“Hello, it’s me.” You muttered softly, tapping your fingers against the granite counter of your kitchen. “Oh! Y/N! how are you?” The receptionist said cheerfully. You sighed, pushing your hair out of your face. “Not well. Listen, don’t go telling Katsuki I called, but I need to know something. Was he supposed to be off yesterday?” You asked, hand gripping the phone tightly. She paused for a second, and you could hear the clicking of her keyboard as she looked up his work schedule.

“Yes, it shows that he was off yesterday and never clocked in.”

You bit your lip, drawing blood on accident. “He wasn’t home yesterday until late.” You said quietly. She paused, before letting out a sigh. “Listen, I know it’s not right for me to keep this from you, but if you tell Mr. Bakugo that I gave you this information, I’ll get fired. So listen, he recently took on this new pro-hero that just debuted. Her name is Akemi. That is all I can tell you.” She said, before hanging up. You stood up straight before dialing the one person you knew could help.

“Hey, Izuku?”

Staring at his drink, Izuku remained concentrated before sighing. “Well, I don’t want to worry you, but those all sound like signs of cheating.” He said, causing you to choke on your food. When you had called Izuku and asked him to meet up at your favorite restaurant for lunch and some helpful advice, this wasn’t exactly what you expected.

“Cheat? Katsuki? Never.” You said, purposely avoiding the look Izuku gave you as you stuffed your mouth with more food. He sighed, running a hand through his green locks. “Look, I’ve known Kacchan for a very long time. I don’t ever think he’d cheat on you- at least, I don’t want to think about it. He was very focused on his hero career and becoming number one in high school, so the fact he managed to find space in his heart was a shock in and of itself. However-“ he stated, holding up a finger, “Kacchan is a very fast-paced, goal driven person, and because of the stuff that made him who he was growing up, I also know he’s very destructive when it comes to relationships. I mean, he bullied me throughout my life and even told you that you had to keep up with him if you wanted to be with him.” He said, taking a sip of his drink. You looked down at your hands, before sighing. “I know- but I just don’t understand why he’d do that. I mean, he’s too focused on his work, you know?” You said. Izuku shrugged. “Maybe he feels dissatisfied. It’s nothing to do with you, but maybe he feels like something’s missing and is trying to use other people to fill that gap.” He said. You leaned back, looking at him. “Well, then what do I do?” You asked

Izuku smiled. “I’m glad you asked, cause I wrote it down.”

The plan was simple. You were to go to the bar Bakugo visited and wait. If this Akemi girl showed up and they did anything, you were supposed to snap a picture and go home. When Izuku first suggested it, you looked at him like he was insane.

“So I’m supposed to stalk him like a crazy person?!” You shouted, watching as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah.” He said, before yelping as you snatched his journal from him and hit him over the head.

“OW! Hey- cut that out!” He said, grabbing it from you, “I’m being serious! If you go, you’ll get the evidence you need. And if he doesn’t do anything, then you’ll be at ease.” He said, rubbing his head. You paused to think, sitting back in your chair. “Fine. I’ll do it.” You said, watching as Izuku gave you a determined smile.

That was how you ended up in this mess. You sat at a table far off in a corner, watching as Bakugo checked his watch. He’d been sitting alone for about thirty minutes now. Starting to relax, you got on social media before hearing the door to the bar open. You looked up, and felt goosebumps on your skin as you watched the person walk in.

The person in question was Akemi, who had walked over and sat down next to Bakugo. Your boyfriend. You watched as they started to talk, hands balling up into fists as you watched her giggle and touch his arm. “This bitch.” You muttered, feeling anger and sadness bubble up in your chest. What gave him the idea that it was okay to do this? You were never one to get upset about your significant others having certain friends, but this was just absurd. You watched them flirt and steal glances, becoming more and more upset. What was wrong with him? Why was he doing this?

Then they kissed.

You swore you could hear your heart shatter as their lips molded together. You felt tears hit your clothes as you started to cry. Snapping a picture, you quickly paid and got out of there as soon as possible. You didn’t want to see anymore.

You hastily made your way to your car, wiping your face as you dialed Izuku’s number. “Y/N?” “You were right, Izu. He’s cheating on me.” You said, sniffling as you got in and drove home. You could hear him move to grab his journal. “Okay, you can come stay with me until you find a new apartment. For now, go home and pack a bag. Wait there and confront him, then leave. When he’s on patrol I’ll have Mina and the others help you move out.” He said, writing things down. You nodded quietly, trying to swallow the knot in your throat as you walked into your apartment and began to pack your bags.

It was 2:45 AM when Bakugo got home. You had cried everything out at this point, and your eyes were now fixated on the TV. You tensed up as he walked in.

“Where were you.” You asked coldly, eyes not leaving the tv. He didn’t spare you a glance. “I was with Kirishima and the others.” He lied. You grit your teeth together. “You’re lying. I called Denki not long ago.” You said. It was true. You had called the whole bakusquad begging them to help you move, because you wouldn’t be able to do it by yourself before he got home from work tomorrow.

“He wasn’t there.” He said, setting his bag down. “Why are you so pissy? Did I do something?” He asked, finally looking at you. You inhaled, grabbing your phone.

“Who’s Akemi.”

He paused, watching as you turned to wait for his answer. Instantly, he got defensive. “She’s a coworker. I go to the bar with her sometimes after work.” He said. You nodded, before standing up. “Do you kiss her sometimes too?” You asked, causing him to glare at you. “What the fuck? No, I don’t.” He sneered, crossing his arms. “Do you think I’m cheating or something?” “I don’t think, I know you are Katsuki.” You muttered, pulling up the picture and showing him. He immediately reached for your phone. “Where the hell did you get that?!” He asked, trying to grab it out of your hands. You wrestled with him before tossing it out of reach. “Why does it matter? You’re fucking cheating on me Katsuki!” You shouted back at him. He shook his head. “She kissed me. I didn’t fucking like it Y/N, I pushed her off.” He said, causing you to get angrier. “You’re a fucking liar! I watched you kiss her back Katsuki!” You said. He growled. “You stalked me like a psychopath?!” “Yeah, and apparently I had to because you can’t even stay faithful!” You yelled, before grabbing your phone and making your way to your bags.

Bakugo followed you, watching as you slung them over your shoulders and grabbed your keys. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked. You turned to look at him.

“I’m leaving, Katsuki. Don’t bother contacting me.”

You arrived at Izuku’s door with tear stains on your face and bags full of your clothes. He rushed you inside, taking your bags as he sat you on the couch. “I ordered takeout. I got your favorite.” He said, handing you the box and breaking your chopsticks for you. You thanked him quietly before blinking.

“You remember my favorite takeout?” “Yeah! I thought you’d like it after what happened. I got ice cream too.” He said, blushing a little. You smiled softly. “I... thank you Izuku.” You muttered before turning on the TV and opening your box. He nodded, taking your bags to his spare bedroom. You sniffled, hearing your phone start to ring. Groaning, you set your food aside and grabbed it.

Boom boy💞

-where are you

You scoffed. Ironic of him to ask.

-None of your concern. Stop texting me.

-Y/N I’m sorry, please just come home and talk to me.

-No. I’ll be blocking you now.

You blocked all his social media accounts and his number before setting your phone aside, going back to eating your food. After a while, Izuku emerged holding two spoons and a pint of ice cream.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright? Hand me the ice cream.” You said, causing him to laugh and give you a spoon, popping the top open. You dug in, confiding in him as you ate the frozen treat.

“I just can’t believe he’d do something like this! Five years down the drain...” you muttered, sighing as you grabbed his remote. He nodded quietly, patting your head. “I know, I’m disappointed in him... but you’ll be alright. It sucks right now, but somebody will treat you better one day.” He said, smiling gently at you. Feeling your face heat up, you looked away. What was wrong with you?

“Hey Izu? I’m gonna go to bed.” You said, standing up abruptly and putting the spoon in the sink. He blinked before nodding. “Alright. Goodni-“ “Yeah, Goodnight!” You rushed, shutting the door to the guest bedroom and slumping down onto the floor.

What the hell are you gonna do now?

#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoria x reader #mha x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #ground zero #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha izuku midoriya

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

The Barbershop (EZ Edition)

Angel’s Edition

Miguel’s Edition

Pairing: EZ Reyes x black!reader

Summary: The reader gets EZ ready for his patch party.

Warnings: Use of the n-word & smut

A/N: Thank you to @ly--canthrope for the EZ fluff prompts!

A/N (2): I highly suggest listening to El Clavo while listening. Also, I think Nestor and Coco might be getting some attention from me, so be on the look out for that.

Prompts:

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice”

Person scrunching their nose & other kisses them

When you got your first pair of clippers in high school, EZ was your first customer and ever since you’ve been cutting his hair. Even when he went off to college, EZ came back to Santo Padre to get his hari cut by his best friend. The only time you didn’t cut his hair was when he was in prison for those 8 years, but since he’s been back, he hasn’t missed an appointment.

Now here he was at your house with his hair longer than usual because he was busy with club shit. Luckily, he came by with enough time for you to do his hair before his patch party. “Ezekiel, please come to me before your hair gets this long again.”

He pinched your side as you moved around him. “Hey, you do Angel’s hair all the time and his hair is a shit ton longer than mines.”

“I’m used to Angel’s long locks! You’re supposed to be the clean-cut brother.” You stopped cutting his hair and moved the clippers in front of his face. “Oh, and if you pinch me again while I’m doing your hair, I’ll purposefully fuck up your hairline. Let’s see how many of those hang arounds will want your dick then.”

He held up his hands in surrender and mumbled his apologies, but not really meaning it. As long as you’ve been his best friend his favorite pastime was to rile you up. He loved how flustered you got when you couldn’t come up with a clever comeback. He loved how your hand slapped him across his body even if it was a little painful. He loved how your eyes widened in shock and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how you’ll look when he finally gets the chance to slip inside you.

Everyone was aware of his crush on you, except you. The only reason EZ didn’t tell you was because with the pair of you, timing was awful. When he realized he was in love with you, you had a boyfriend and when you broke up with that boyfriend EZ was with Emily. Then, he went off to prison and when he came back, he didn’t want to involve you with his mess, so he kept his distance. But he couldn’t wait anymore, he had to let you know.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he grabbed your attention by lightly grazing your hip. “Yes, Ezekiel?” He let out a soft groan. He loved when you used his full name. It didn’t matter if you were yelling it excitement, teasing him, or scolding him, he just loved to hear it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t say anything else because your phone started to ring. It was your sorta boyfriend, Rick. EZ couldn’t stand him. He was a douchebag that gave you more headaches than anything. And it was obvious to EZ that you didn’t love him. It was evident in the way you talked about him like an annoying chore. For the life of him, EZ didn’t understand why you kept him around.

“Oh, so now you’re coming? Well, just meet me there because EZ’s riding with me.” EZ couldn’t help to smile a bit at you putting Rick in his place. He tried to listen to Rick’s response, but he could only make out his tone and from that he could tell he was pissed. “Why? Nigga, I don’t have to give you a reason why my best friend is riding in my car.” Even though you were busy with your little argument your hand never faltered, cutting hair was second nature to you. “Ugh, if you must know its his party and I’m planning to get him plastered, so he needs a DD. That’s good with you? Oh, wait I don’t care,” You hung up the phone soon after that.

“Rick coming?” EZ managed to keep the disdain for him out of his voice. “Who knows? Probably be better if he stays but forget about him.” You turned off the clippers and brushed his hair, then gave EZ the mirror to inspect himself. After he gave his haircut a serious inspection, he started biting his lip and doing his signature pretty boy poses.

“Okay, Lothario if you’re done making out with yourself in the mirror, imma go take a shower to start getting ready.” As you turned to walk away, EZ grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him. “Thank you, querida.” He kissed your wrist and gave you those adorable puppy dog eyes. “No problem, EZ,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, then went to your bathroom to get ready and ignored your heart swelling up from EZ’s touch.

An hour later you were still getting ready and EZ was taking a shower. While you were applying on makeup, EZ walked into your room wet, fresh out the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew EZ was ripped, but see it up close, my god there are no words.

EZ caught your staring in the mirror. “Like what you see?” He asked, flexing his pecs. “Ew, no!” You falsely claimed and scrunched up your nose in faux disgust. EZ came up to you and kissed your nose before snatching your lotion off the dresser. “You know what, you’re right. You love it.” EZ was so damn close to you that you could feel the heat of the shower radiating off of him.

“Yeah, I love it,” you deadpanned before pushing him away. “Now get ready. I don’t want you to be late to your own party.”

While EZ was having the time of his life, you were having the opposite. Rick ended up coming, but he was in a funky mood thus bringing your mood down. When his first words were something about how your dress wasn’t flattering, you made plans to break up with him. Using him as a distraction from EZ was draining your soul and you didn’t need that kind of energy in your life.

He made the breakup easier for you when you caught him in the restroom with one of Vicky’s girls with his dick in her mouth. You couldn’t even muster up any anger, instead you gave the girl and extra $100 for her troubles.

Although, getting cheated on sucked, what pissed you off the most was the girls all fawning over EZ. They were all over him like bitches in heat, rubbing on his chest, arms, and head, commenting on his haircut…your haircut. “Damn chica, just go claim your man.” Coco observed how you were sending death glares at the women.

“He’s not my man! He’s grown and can do whatever he wants.” You sputtered, surprised at being caught. “Exactly! If you weren’t too chicken, then he’d be your man.” Angel commented, taking a sip of his beer.

You ignored Coco’s and Angel’s somewhat encouraging words to look back at EZ. Your face instantly brightened when you saw how at ease he was. It wasn’t too often EZ could let go like this.

EZ felt a pair of eyes on him and when he found out it was you his eyes gleamed, he cracked that boyish smile and raised his beer to you. Excusing himself EZ made his way to you and gave you a hug. “Ezekiel, what’s with the hug?”

“I miss you.”

“You rode with me here, EZ.”

“Its Ezekiel and I barely talked to you since we’ve been here. Is it so bad that I want to party with my best friend?” You scrunched up your face. “I guess not.”

EZ hummed his appeasement and kissed your nose. “Come dance with me.” He didn’t give you time to reject him. Tightly he tugged your hand and pulled you into the middle of the scrapyard.

Prince Royce and Maluma’s El Clavo began to play. EZ knew how much you loved this song, but since you didn’t know Spanish you didn’t understand the song. It was ironic to him that this song was playing tonight. Earlier, he saw how Angel escorted Rick out and the relief wash over you when you saw him leave. He knew Rick must’ve done something stupid. If it wasn’t for your need to avoid conflict, EZ would’ve beat his ass right then and there.

“What are you doing?” You questioned EZ as he placed his leg between yours and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dancing obviously,” he chuckled near your ear sending vibrations throughout your body.

You decided not to fight him and followed his lead. There’s been plenty of times you’ve dance with EZ, but it was always playful and fun, but this…this was different, this was sensual. A passionate dance only meant to be shared between lovers.

“Eyes,” he ordered assertively. It was his command to you when he wanted you to feel what he was saying.

Si esta noche tu novio te bota (If tonight your boyfriend throws you out) Dile que tú no estás sola (Tell him that you are not alone) Que tú estás conmigo, que yo sí te cuido (That you are with me, that I do take care of you) No como ese idiota (no como ese idiota) (Not like that idiot (not like that idiot) Si esta noche tu novio te bota (If tonight your boyfriend throws you out) Dile que tú no andas sola (que no 'tás sola) (Tell him that you are not alone (that you are not alone) Que yo soy el clavo que saca ese clavo (That I am the nail that pulls that nail)

Y dile que se joda (And tell him to fuck) Maluma, baby

Your breath hitched as EZ began translating the lyrics to English. He had to be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. “There it is.” He pointed out. “There what is?”

“That look.” He tugged your bottom lip that you had tucked underneath your teeth. “What look?” Your breath brushed against his thumb and it took all his control not to pounce on you.

“Eyes blown out, chest heaving. See,” EZ gripped your chin to keep your eyes leveled with his. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. It’s the same look I have when I look at you.”

“Stop playing with me, Ezekiel.” Your heart couldn’t take it if this was some sort of joke. “I’m not.” His voice did not waver.

“What about Emily? Or Gabby?”

“Distractions. Distractions that kept me from the real thing for too long.” You sucked your teeth in disbelief. EZ decided to translate the song for you some more. If you weren’t going to believe his words, then maybe you’ll believe another’s.

Yo llevo la cuenta, esta es la quinta vez (I keep track, this is the fifth time) Pero yo no entiendo por qué no lo ves (But I don't understand why you don't see him) Tú estás demasiado buena para estar con él (mamacita) (You're too hot to be with him (mamacita)) Tremenda mujer para estar con él (Tremendous woman to be with him) Y si te busca a las 4:20 porque te llama borracho (And if he looks for you at 4:20 because he calls you drunk) Ahora te quiere pero mañana vuelve a hacerte daño (Now he loves you but tomorrow he will hurt you again) Por ese bobo no llores (For that fool, don’t cry) Deja que yo te enamore (deja que yo te enamore) (Let me make you fall in love (let me make you fall in love)

Now that you knew EZ’s feelings, the lyrics became much more intense for you. Instinctively, you rested your forehead on his. His lips hovered over yours so much that you could taste the beer on his breath. Your acrylic nails caressed the back of his head caused him to stop his translation and purr against your neck. “You like that, Ezekiel?” You teased, giggling against his neck.

“I don’t know,” EZ pressed up against you tighter so you could feel his hardon. “You tell me if it feels like I like it.”

Now or never, you thought. You brought your lips closer to EZ’s. The both of you fighting for dominance, but ultimately EZ won, claiming you in front of the club. It wasn’t until you heard the cheers of his brothers that he’d stop kissing you.

Instantly, EZ started pulling you in the direction of your car, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait, Ezekiel. I need you now.” EZ’s normally bright eyes darkened and he led you towards the clubhouse. On your way to the dorm room, both you and EZ ignored Angel when he told you, “Don’t be surprised when EZ starts crying.”

As the pair of you made it through the hallway, each of your touches got heavier, more daring. So daring that when you finally got to his dorm your dress was halfway off. The rest of the clothes fly off like a whirlwind except EZ’s jeans. In his rush he tripped over his jeans. “Oh, that’s funny?” He asked when he caught you giggling.

“Just a little.” EZ rushed to you, tackled you to the bed and quickly turned your giggles into soft moans as he kissed you.

Despite your best efforts to keep him close, EZ pulled away. He leaned back on his haunches and admired your body. “I can’t believe I finally have you.” He lifted your leg threw it over his shoulder and started kissing you from your ankle up to your inner thighs. “You know one night when I slept over at your place. I caught you touching yourself. Your hands flew to your face to cover up the embarrassment. “Oh god,” you mumbled.

EZ’s deep chuckle made you peek through your hands. “What are you embarrassed for? For that little 10 seconds, it was the sexiest thing I’ve seen, but it was so damn torturous in the most beautiful way. Do you know how hard it is to have that vividly replaying in my head and not have you?”

The whole time EZ was talking he was getting closer to your core, but you were hyper focused on his words that his mouth on your clit took you by surprise. “Shit,” you squealed underneath his tongue. With your hand you covered your mouth to keep your screams down. EZ lifted his head at your muffled screams. “No, let me hear you. Let me know how good I make you feel.”

Following his instructions, you removed your hand and that earned you an approving smile from EZ. “Good girl.” Before he returned to his meal, EZ grabbed you by the back of your neck, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

This time he added his fingers as he ate you out. The hold he had on you allowed no room for you to run, you had to stay there and take everything he was giving you. Add pussy eating to the long list of things that Ezekiel Reyes is great at.

Your hands shot out to EZ’s head. Scratching it was your best alternative since you had nothing to tug at. EZ raised his head, his mouth glistening from your cunt. “I bet you wish my hair was longer now.” He teased before diving right back in.

“EZ, I’m gonna cum.” You continued scratching the back of his head as he moved his tongue and fingers faster. “Cum all over my mouth, preciosa.” He murmured above your pussy.

An explosion. That was the only way you could describe your orgasm. It busted through your body, leaving you and EZ soaked. The evidence shone on his forearm, highlighting his veins, leaving you in a trance.

EZ noticed your staring at his arm. “Ride my forearm.” He demanded, excited that he’ll be able to get you off this way.

At first you were hesitant, but with EZ’s urging you hopped on it. You were experiencing immense pleasure and wanted EZ to experience the same. Tonight, was a celebration for him and this entire time his focus was on you. Completely selfless as usual. Reaching between your bodies, you began stroking him, smearing his precum all over his engorged head. “What are you doing?” He gasped, flexing his arm a bit more. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

EZ nibbled at your chin. “I want you to cum all over my forearm, that’ll make me feel good.” You continued jerking him off while you rode him.

Who would’ve thought the rough ridges of his protruding veins and his constant flexing had you cumming a second time for the night? “Fuck we got to do that again!” You tried to nuzzle your face in EZ’s neck, but he wouldn’t let you because he was too busy kissing you all over your face. “EZ, I just came on your fucking arm.”

“Yeah and it was hot! I bet that douchebag couldn’t do that with his measly dick.” Slowly, he began to lay you down. “Now you’re about to cum all over my dick while screaming my name.”

Your now boyfriend made good on his promise. Opposed to Rick’s useless jackhammering, EZ made slow, powerful strokes, ensuring you were well taken care of.

He was tending to your body so well your eyes kept rolling to the back of your head. “Eyes!” He commanded harsher than ever before. When your eyes met his, you could see the struggle in his eyes. EZ wanted to be soft, gentle, and romantic, but deep down he wanted to fuck you hard, show you who you belong to.

“Make me yours, Ezekiel. Fuck me like you mean it.” It took him some time to process the words, but when he did his widened in realization that he got permission to let go. “Fuck, I love you.” He captured your lips in a searing kiss, hoping to communicate how much he loved you. “I love you too.” You told him as he had a bruising hold on your hips.

Gone was sweet soft Ezekiel. He was replaced by EZ, the harsh lover that’s gonna push you over the edge, then bring you back just to do it all over again.

Yours and EZ’s moans accompanied by the sound of bodies slapping together made a symphony that you would never get tired of. This was what you were missing for all those years apart.

“Make me proud. Cum all over this dick, querida.” EZ suckled your neck, branding you with his marks. “Ezekiel!” You cried out as your body combusted, almost feeling every molecule in your body. The newly patched Mayan silenced your cries with his mouth as he came soon after you.

EZ tried to lay in the bed with you but you refused. I t was his party and you were adamant that he enjoys it some more. You two can have your alone time later.

Just as you were sliding up your panties, EZ stuffed his fingers up your cum filled pussy. “Don’t want this leaking out.” He whispered, giving you a cheeky grin as you moaned at his ministrations.

“Okay, that’s enough you nasty ass kids. Playtime is over! Time to get fucked up, baby bro. I’m sure Y/N wants to forget the last 30 seconds.” Angel banged on the door.

“That was nice while it lasted.” You slipped your dress over your head and fixed your hair. EZ hummed his agreeance and led you out the door and ignored the childish jeering from his brothers. They could tease all they want, because as long as he has you, he doesn’t give a damn.

Taglist: @starrynite7114 @sadeyesgf @ly--canthrope @woahitslucyylu @marvelmaree @angrythingstarlight @teakturn @thickemadame @ifoundmyhappythought @strawberrywritings @dearsamcrobae @chaneajoyyy @spookys-girl @bigsisbria

#ez reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x black!reader #ezekiel reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x black!reader #black!reader #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #ez reyes fanfic #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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casuallydyinginthecorner · 2 years

Text

Here it is folks the five (5)-and-a-half page Odyssey fanfiction that I turned in to my English teacher my freshman year of high school

Hope you enjoy

Penelope stared at the two women. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you,” she said. “Will you repeat yourself?”

“Of course. As I’ve said, both Lady Calypso and I met Odysseus on his voyage to Ithaca. He just so happened to be stranded with both of us for a time with no way off, so he decided to, well… enjoy our company until he found it in himself to leave,” the woman with curls repeated.

“And it took quite some time, too,” snickered the other.

“Please, my lady, let me speak,” Penelope said quietly. She turned to Odysseus, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What did you suffer that made you so lonely that you had to leave me for two women?”

“Actually, didn’t you say something about women in Troy?” the second woman interrupted. Penelope turned in her throne to face her.

“Women in Troy?” she asked.

The woman nodded. “Didn’t he tell you? He needed someone to warm his bed when he was away.”

The one with the curls laughed, filling the empty courtyard. “It turns out that ‘someone’ was a bunch of enslaved women.”

Penelope didn’t respond. How could this have happened? She’d been nothing but good to Odysseus even when he was away. She’d dealt with the suitors, raised Telemachus with no complaint. Why would he treat her like this?

She beckoned at a servant in the corner. “Aetha, would you be so kind as to show these women to a chamber and bring some wine and cheese to tide them over until dinner? I’d like to speak with Odysseus in private.”

“Of course, my lady.” The two women looked at Penelope, glanced at each other, then followed the servant out the door.

Odysseus, who had been unnaturally silent, now spoke up. “Penelope, listen to me-”

“No!” she shouted. “Why, Odysseus? Was it something I did? Something I said? Or did you just get tired of me? Did you only come back because of your riches and your son and to revel in your victory against Troy? Were the women you enslaved victorious enough? Were you-”

“SILENCE!” Odysseus rose from his chair and stalked toward Penelope, eyes ablaze. “I will not be commanded or doubted in my own home, much less my own kingdom, much less by my own wife, who claims that I am unloyal with no proof!” He shoved her against a nearby pillar, grabbing her shoulders. “Do you understand me?”

Penelope only stood there, trembling. His grip on her shoulders hurt. She didn’t think she could feel anything in that moment other than white hot pain. Slowly, she mustered out a nod.

“Good.” Odysseus turned away, leaning on Penelope’s chair. “Haven’t I suffered enough, dear gods? Why must this woman doubt my loyalty to her, after all I’ve done in your favor?”

Penelope slid down the pillar. Her breathing was ragged. Odysseus had never done this before. Not her kind, noble Odysseus. Although he wasn’t even that, was he? She gripped the folds of her dress tightly.

“I’ll… I’ll go check on dinner,” she said. Then, silent as a mouse, she snuck out of the courtyard.

***

The palace was normally alight with music after its dinners. Any local who happened to live close to the palace would tell you about the songs and shouting that went on hours into the night. But not tonight. Tonight, Penelope had heard, Odysseus would be eating and sleeping in his chambers alone. No one was to disturb him, not even his own son.

“It’s best you leave him alone,” Eurycleia had told her. “Something’s got him in a fury worse than the gods can muster.” Oh, gods, Penelope had thought. Is this because of me?

And now, here she was, staring out the balcony in her own private room, with the moonlight as her only company. It’s ironic, really. She would come here at this time of day to seek solace from her suitors, come to end her waiting for Odysseus, and now she was hiding away from her feelings of pain, of grief, of anger.

How could he have done this? she asked herself again. It wasn’t fair. Twenty years she’d spent in loneliness, waiting and waiting with no way of knowing if he was safe, running a kingdom of thousands on nothing but a well-wish and half a prayer. And now here was the payback- two women, an angry husband, and a broken heart.

Unloyal with no proof. The women themselves say otherwise.

Wait a minute…

Without a second thought, Penelope shot up from the window and ran towards the bedrooms.

***

The door opened to reveal the curly-haired woman wearing a white sleeping gown.

“It’s you,” she said. Penelope squared her shoulders.

“Yes.”

The woman looked at her strangely. “Well, what are you standing there for? Come in!”

As if spellbound, Penelope found herself walking into the lofty chamber and sitting at the foot of one of the beds. The other woman lounged on a nearby couch, holding a glass of wine.

“So, dearest Penelope, what brings you here?” she questioned.

It was as if the answer lifted itself off of her tongue. “I want to know if you had any children with Odysseus.”

She clamped her hands over her mouth. How…

The women chuckled. “And why do you want to know this?” the woman with the wineglass asked.

Penelope’s hands rose off her mouth. “I…” No. If she was going to tell these women anything, it would be her own decision.

“At the moment, it will be none of your concern.” Her refusal must have been more shocking than she thought, because the two women looked at each other, stupefied.

“How… how were you able to do that?” asked the curly-haired one.

“What, break the rules of hosting? Simple. I am angry.”

The woman shook her head. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Other than one of Odysseus’ mistresses?” Penelope replied.

“Ha-ha. In the lands of the gods, I am known as Circe, my friend, Calypso. We are known for our magic, our potions, our beauty-”

“Your ability to steal my husband?” muttered Penelope.

Circe rolled her eyes. “My point is that few mortals are immune to our spells. Few except Odysseus, and now, you.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“No, there’s some other person in this room we could be referring to,” Calypso deadpanned, sloshing her wine around. “What she means to say is that you are powerful, Penelope. Not only did you realize we were hypnotizing you, you broke free of a hypnotization! And surely if you could resist one, who knows? Perhaps you could cast an enchantment yourself,” Calypso thought to herself, then laughed. “I haven’t seen this much power in a mortal since Psyche!”

“Ah, Psyche,” began Circe. “She was a lovely one, wasn’t she? A shame she married Eros. She would have been a fine witch.” Something changed in her posture. “To answer your question, yes, Odysseus did sire a child in each of us. A son for me and a daughter for Calypso.”

The sting hurt, but she shoved it aside. “What else did he do with you?” she asked, a little eagerly.

Calypso laughed nervously. “Whoa, there, getting a little personal, don’t you think?”

Penelope almost started to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. She sighed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. But all I needed is some sort of confirmation- some proof, but I suppose you can’t bring your children here and I won’t ask you to recount your-erm, experiences in front of an audience. Very well. Thank you, my ladies, for your time.” Penelope got up and smoothed out her dress. But before she could open the door, a hand grabbed her wrist.

“There is another way,” Circe said.

***

Dawn rose through the branches of the olive tree as Penelope waited the next morning, a slave woman waiting not too far away. She idly played with a fallen leaf.

Eurycleia had said that Odysseus would be here by seven. It was half past eight. Well, it was worth a try.

A cry in the distance stopped her from leaving. “Wife,” shouted Odysseus, climbing the hill to their bed.

“Husband,” she answered. The two stood there, neither blinking nor making a move. Finally, Penelope spoke. “Sit, will you?”

“You’re in no position to make demands,” he grumbled, but sat anyway. Then: “Why did you summon me? Is it another ploy to tell me how I am unloyal?” Penelope went to interrupt, but he continued.

“You do realize these women are witches? Women you’re warned to stay away from as a child? And yet was it not you who let their ships into our harbor? Was it not you who granted them shelter for the night? These women have been casting spells on you,” Odysseus concluded. He chuckled to himself. “Of course it would be a spell! There’s no way you would ever question my loyalty. You’re so patient and true, dearest Penelope. You would never doubt your own family.” Even though his words were kind, Penelope could still hear the hard edge laced through, like venom in a seemingly harmless snake. Or in the aftertaste of a potion.

Penelope played along and laughed with him. “You’re right, dearest Odysseus, it must be some sort of enchantment they’ve placed on me to lure me away from you and Telemachus, from sweet Ithaca. How could I have ever doubted you?” She fell to the ground, grasping his knees. “Please, oh powerful Odysseus, forgive me! I shall forget this incident and send a slave woman to the guest chamber where the women reside. She’ll tell them to pack their things, for a ship will be made ready- a small thing, yet luxurious enough to trick them into thinking they’re headed for home. Then, we’ll pray to Zeus, father of the heavens and Lord of the Skies, to send them to the island of Laestrygonians, where they shall be punished for the pain they have caused you! Please, my husband, find it within yourself to forgive me and carry out this plan!”

Odysseus remained silent for so long Penelope almost doubted if he was alive. Then, he smiled graciously and hauled her up by the arms. “Of course, dearest Penelope. Why would I ever doubt you?” He gestured towards the nearby grove, where the slave woman was standing. “Bring us some wine.” The bait was taken.

The woman came over with a wine kit and two glasses and began to prepare the wine.

“Why is she taking so long?” Odysseus complained. “Hurry up, will you?”

The slave woman bowed her head. “Yes, my king.” She poured the now ready wine into the cups and handed one to Odysseus, the other to Penelope. Or at least, that was what she tried to do before she spilled the wine all over the bedsheets. She bent over in a bow.

“Apologies, my lady. I’ll make you a new batch and clean up this mess.”

Penelope gave her a meaningful look. “Do not worry. Wine can be remade.”

The woman quickly made a new batch and handed the glass to Penelope.

“Would you like to toast?” Odysseus asked. Penelope nodded.

“A toast to new beginnings,” she said, “and to truthful vows.” They clinked their glasses together. Penelope took a small sip, but Odysseus hesitated.

“What’s the matter, my love?” she asked nervously. “Is the wine not to your liking?”

“No, my dearest. Something simply smells off.” He sniffed the wine. “Poison.”

“A-are you sure? Perhaps it is simply the grapes?”

Odysseus set the cup down. “No. This is a poison of truth.” He turned sharply on Penelope. “Someone thinks me unloyal.” Penelope sank to her knees once more.

“No, I swear it!” she begged. “It was never my intention to harm you!” Her cries had no effect.

“If you have so little trust in me that you would think to poison me, then maybe I should teach you a lesson!” Odysseus raised the wine cup over his head. Penelope braced herself for a shatter, but it never came. She looked up to see Circe, who had dropped her disguise as the slave woman and begun to grapple with Odysseus.

“Leave her alone!” But it was to no avail. Within a moment, Circe had been flung against the tree and dropped on the ground, unconscious.

“No!” Before Penelope could stop her, Calypso darted out of her hiding place in the forest, dagger in hand. She began to chant a spell, but Odysseus slammed a hand into the side of her face and she fell to the floor.

“I sail for ten years to get home to you, and this is what I get?!” Penelope backed up against the tree, closer to the other women. What could she use to protect herself? She could use the dagger? No, he would disarm her in an instant. If she could somehow distract him…

A plan formed itself in Penelope’s mind.

“Odysseus, I had no involvement in this,” she said, creeping closer to the bodies of Circe and Calypso. “Please believe me.”

“And why should I, after all you’ve done?” Penelope ignored his words, instead focusing on the pain Odysseus had caused her. Anger roiled through her veins, but she held it down.

“Because I’m your wife,” she said. “Husbands and wives believe each other, do they not?” Something changed in Odysseus’ eyes. Penelope kept going.

“Odysseus, I’ve waited for you for twenty years. Why would you ever doubt me?”

His hands dropped to his sides. “Because… because...”

Penelope grappled for the dagger. “Really, Odysseus? You’re known as one of the wisest men alive. Wouldn’t you have better judgement than this?”

“I… I would.” Penelope’s fingers closed around the hilt. She stood up and crept closer.

“Now, answer my question: did you love Circe and Calypso?”

The answer came out strangled, forced. “...yes.”

That’s odd. Penelope would have expected to feel the anger to rise at his truth. Instead, all she could feel was remorse. This was his fault, and he would have to face the consequences.

“Then I’m sorry,” she said, and stabbed the blade into his heart.

One year later

Penelope stood at the balcony, looking out to the mountains of Aeaea. With the sun setting above the forest surrounding them and the sea in the background, it almost reminded her of Ithaca. Well, the amount of pigs remained the same.

After she killed Odysseus, Penelope had fled to Aeaea with Circe and Calypso, leaving Ithaca in the hands of Telemachus. From word on the sea, it was now smaller, a simple trading town, its might and glory gone. But that was okay. Eurycleia had said in her letters that Telemachus was happier this way.

Happiness. Was that what Penelope felt, living on the island with Circe and Calypso, training their children and any other young woman who happened to be stranded on their shores how to use magic? Not that Penelope hadn’t benefited from the lessons. Now, if she tried, she could cast minor enchantments on animals. She’d vowed never to use that power, though. No use in harming living things that didn’t deserve it.

There was still no explanation for her powers. Circe had left it to being a favor of the gods as a reward for being loyal to Odysseus.

“Doesn’t explain why you still have it, though,” she’d mused. “Maybe they let you keep it out of pity.”

In the year she’d been here, Penelope had put good use to her weaving talents. The halls were now covered in tapestries depicting scenes of magic, the sea, and the gods themselves. Every other day, she would teach the children, who she considered her own, how to weave their own stories. Little by little, their artwork also lined the walls.

She, Circe and Calypso started going on walks in the mornings, exploring the forests and gathering ingredients for potions or ointments. Once, Penelope had found flowers and the latter two had spent the rest of the day covering themselves with them. They’d gotten a horrible rash later and it took Penelope a week to learn the recipe for the proper cream to heal them. Though they laughed about it now, it was probably the most stressful situation Penelope had been in in months.

And at the end of every week, the three of them would go up to the balcony in their room for a party. Sometimes they invited the children, sometimes they didn’t. Nevertheless, it was always fun.

Now, there she was, staring at the sunset in a gown Odysseus would have considered scandalous, drinking wine and laughing her heart out. The children played in the fountain below, small splashes rising up to the balcony’s level every so often.

“Penelope? Is everything alright?” Calypso asked from a bench nearby.

“Is it the wine?” Circe added. “Are you feeling sick?”

Penelope turned around, looking at the two women who had changed her life. Is everything alright? she asked herself. Odysseus was gone. Her kingdom was smaller. Her son was king, but not in the way that she’d planned. But it was for the best. For the first time in her life, Penelope was living her life in the way she wanted to, without the rules of marriage being imposed on her or being held to a standard. For the first time in her life, she was free.

A smile rose on her face. “Yes, it is.”

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

Text

rain clouds

pairing: maxwell lord / reader

word count: 2813

summary: i don’t even know what to say abt this one except it’s filled with yearning

a/n: this was gonna be super soft and happy but then it got soft and sad and then soft and happy again. posting from mobile yet again. tbh idek if this makes a lick of sense, we will see

warnings: mentions of shitty parents (maxwell’s dad & alistair’s mom), hints at child neglect & cps, anxious max, don't worry it gets fluffy

maxwell lord hasn’t had a day off since he founded black gold cooperative. that business was his baby long before he had a living baby with his ex wife, and loved both just as much. there was no such thing as a “sick day” to max; any day spent sleeping or healing is a day lost in the pursuit of greatness, the pilgrimage to the top of the corporate food chain. the only one he would ever make an exception for is alistair, and even then work would sometimes interrupt.

there was a time, almost too long ago for him to vividly remember, where maxwell did more than work. when he actually got his hands dirty in something that didn’t have anything to do with corporate schemes, and laughed with genuine glee more often than scowled. it was a long time ago now, and no one would ever believe it if they were told that maxwell lord ever got dirty with, well, dirt.

“come on! you gotta try this, it’s great!” the memories of his only friend have become worn with constant reminiscing, his mind unsure as to what’s real and what he imagined to fill in the gaps left by age and new priorities.

maxwell had found a secluded section of the park down the street from the apartment you both lived in, one safe from the eyes of bullies and adults alike. his feet were bare as the day he was born while making leaps and bounds in the abundant mud puddles from yesterday’s rain. he did his best to not let what little joy he found be dwindled by circumstance — his shitty father and reticent mother and the lingering ghost of poverty — the way others lost theirs. max believed himself different than that and carried himself as such no matter what others said.

you were still on the sidewalk, watching your best friend with awe and curiosity. the idea of traipsing through mud barefooted was exhilarating, but you knew that if your clothes got dirty, your mother would hang you out to dry alongside the clothes you were wearing. how did it feel to have the mud between your toes, the rainwater soaking into your skin? you didn’t remember, but you would like to.

to be honest, maxwell didn’t expect you to join him. he didn’t think you would ever try to break out of the box of propriety your family shoved you in, not now or ever. but the next thing he knew, he heard another set of feet splashing around in the puddles he had just vacated, making a path to where he stood. a playful shriek he knew as yours rang through the air and he immediately turned to you, wanting to see your face as you enjoyed yourself for the first time in a long time. “maxwell, this is wonderful! why didn’t you get me to do this earlier?”

you never looked more beautiful to him than when the afternoon sun shone on you, your smile bright and laughter clear and joyous. you were free as lady liberty, splashing around like there wasn’t a single other thing you had to do. then you take his hand and max swears that he’s seeing stars. before you know it, you’re dancing in the mud to the song of the birds in the trees. is it just max’s imagination, or do you tell him you love him?

your lips are on his and it’s magic. his shirt is being gripped in tight fists and his hands are magnetized to your waist, holding each other tight enough to need a crowbar to separate you. there’s nowhere he would rather be than back there with you…

but it’s been far too many years since he’s seen or heard from you, there’s no telling if you’re even in the country still at this point. it took a long time for him to not dolefully gaze at every door you could walk through once he left for college, hoping to see that radiant smile and hear you say his name so reverently.

but these days, reverence is the last thing maxwell thinks he deserves, not after the dreamstone debacle. hell, he isn’t even completely convinced that he can adequately take care of alistair despite the low standards his father and his ex-wife have presented him with. despite these doubts (and the perplexing way that everyone acted as if he never almost took over the world), he was just given full custody of alistair when the school called cps on his ex-wife for neglect. it was a terrible way to get a second chance at doing right by his son, but it’s a second chance nonetheless.

after seeing sense and liquidating black gold while he still could get something to survive with, he and alistair found a two bedroom apartment in a nice part of town. it was miniscule compared to what he had but it was a sight more than what he could have ended up with. besides, max had no time to be frivolous when he had his son to protect.

back to the grindstone he went. he knew that people would recognize him if he kept his current appearance and name, so he retired the lord name and decided on another fresh start. he slowly adjusted to using lorenzano after so many years rejecting it, got the blond removed from his hair. he found a job in financial advisory, and ironically enough, he was damn good at it. he knows what he’s doing when it comes to money that isn’t his, who’d have thought?

he actually knew a couple people from work that he almost considered friends. honestly he wasn’t sure what that word meant anymore, didn’t remember the feelings that were supposed to be associated with having them. but it was enough, truly more than enough; because this progress meant that he was dragging himself out of the grave he dug, because he was taking care of his son first and foremost.

alistair was put into a new school; nothing fancy, just the nicer public school that was a pleasing midpoint between work and their apartment. the first day he attended, alistair came home with so many good stories about the friends he made and the games they played at recess. within a few months he had been contacted by his teacher who had nothing but praise for little alistair lorenzano. his little boy was excelling and max couldn’t have been more proud than he was during that phone call. seconds after he hung up, he found alistair in his bedroom and wrapped him in a massive hug, making sure to emphasize the fact that max was proud of his son.

and then there was his neighbor. they lived across the hall from him and max would only catch the tail end of their arrivals and departures to their apartment. he did think it was rather odd, their strangely adept ability at avoiding him. if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was on purpose.

it wasn't intentional — not quite.

you had been avoiding your neighbor, but it had nothing to do with the oil commercials or dreamstone debacle — your new neighbor made you sad. the feeling would hit every time you saw him. his mere presence dusted off long-worn and cherished memories of a time where the sun felt warmer on your skin, where smiles came easier than heartache.

it took a long while before you realized why: it was because this mystery man reminded you of a love long lost to the dagger of circumstance. something about his walk, or maybe his hands during the times you’d see him open his apartment door, reminded you of what an older maxwell lorenzano could have been. the section of your heart that housed your thoughts of maxwell had been wrapped in caution tape with every hazard sign known to man flashing around it for many years, not wanting to venture there for more than a few moments in fear of hurting yourself even more.

if only you realized it was really max that you were so adamantly avoiding.

three months went by of max wondering why he still has yet to meet his neighbor. not that it was imperative to his daily survival, but his curiosity was all but tearing him apart at the seams. he didn’t know what else to do; yes he wanted to know his neighbor, but how did he go about that when they never saw each other?

“just knock on their door, daddy. be their friend, like you tell me to do when i go to school.” the childlike innocence alistair speaks with betrays the actual feasibility of the idea. maxwell was overthinking everything! people talked to their neighbors all the time! this could just be a simple “hey are you doing okay?” and the chips would fall where they may.

maxwell ruffles his son’s hair affectionately, pulling him into a small hug. “you know what? that’s exactly what i’m gonna do. thanks buddy, i’ll be right back.” it’s only across the hall, max isn’t gonna be gone long.

it’s been years since he’s done anything this casually daring. everything he did for decades was all high risk yielding high reward. talking to his neighbor should seem simple in comparison — it presented no drastic consequence if it went belly up, he almost never saw his neighbor anyway. that wouldn’t change after he finally sated his curiosity, certainly not.

once alistair’s homework is finished and is entranced by the television, maxwell decides to head next door, being sure that the house keys are in his pocket before shutting the door. he probably should have thought it out more than he did — he had no idea about his neighbor’s work schedule or if they had kids or a spouse, if they were a serial killer or an introvert. or even worse, if they happened to be someone who remembers everything he’s done. that would be his luck, his first true attempt at making a friend being thwarted with the magnitude of his past sins.

he doesn’t hear his own front door open, alistair’s head poking out to watch his dad. “knock, daddy!” he whisper-shouts and nearly shakes maxwell out of his skin. the little boy laughs at his dad’s startled expression before nodding and shutting the door back.

max went to knock but realized with his knuckles only an inch from the wood that his hands were peculiarly slippery. when did maxwell’s hands get so clammy? there was nothing to be nervous about. he was just going to attempt to make a friend, like his son simplified.

but the thing is, maxwell knows that it’s been decades since he’s had a friend. the last time someone outside of his son was kind to him not for the zeroes he wrote in checkbooks was you, and sometimes he even doubted that you were real. there are hazy memories of him as a teen that splashed in mud puddles and kissed a being of pure sunshine with the innocence of youth. he hopes they’re real, for his sake and for the sunshine he romped around the park with. maybe memories of him are keeping you sane the way your memory did for him.

as his thoughts spiraled, maxwell lost his nerve. with a heaping dose of irrationality, he didn’t want to disappoint whoever was on the other side of the door. turns out, there was no one on the other side.

“excuse me, did you need something?”

your first instinct when seeing a man almost knocking on your apartment door, on a normal day, was not to be so polite. but you were having a strangely good day and there was no reason to bring down the positive energy with an abrasive attitude. plus, the man looked so conflicted. he seemed to need a friend.

“i, uh, live across the hall, have been for a few months and never got to meet you.” a small gesture to the side shifted your attention to the door across from yours — and the little boy who had the door cracked just enough to see the interaction between you and who you think must be his dad.

this man’s voice, something about it was familiar. he moved from in front of your door and extended his hand towards you in an effort for a decent introduction. “i’m maxwell lor-lorenzano.”

maxwell lorenzano. you never would have thought that out of all the people to have graced this apartment building, he would be one. his hands were still softly strong and shoulders still broad. his eyes were still the same striking shade of brown, but there was a lot more pain there, a lot of experience that was clearly pushing him down by his shoulders and into the depths of anguish. yet there he was, keeping his head above water and still being kind. this truly was your max.

you take his hand with a soft smile, squeezing it gently as you give your name. “it’s been a long time, max.”

max couldn’t believe it. after all these years, it was you.

you had moved in across the street from him in his early teenage years and had become acquainted when walking to school and home. the two of you trekked through high school together, ignoring the cruelty of classmates and focusing on getting to the future, to freedom. hope of being friends after high school was abundant in the beginning, but soon your paths sent you further and further away from each other and towards a future neither of you were sure you wanted without the other.

“it really has been a while. i- i uh,” he could barely string a sentence together anymore. his shock and joy of seeing you again had his brain melting into goo and his tongue an almost immovable weight. “i missed you.” the blood rushed to your face the way it always did when you were with max. even when stuttering over his words and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, he was still charming.

max noticed your attire and the wet umbrella in hand and was immediately taken back to that day spent in the park after it rained, when he . the sunshine on his skin, your smile that never failed to take his breath away…

a soft smile was on max’s lips but his eyes were somewhere else. “max? is everything okay?”

“do you remember the day we went to the park, when we splashed in the puddles and-“

“and when i kissed you? i could never forget if i tried.”

you really did kiss him! it made him want to do it again, as many times as you would let him. but that brought one little stipulation with it: alistair.

what would you say when you found out he had a son?

before max’s thoughts could dampen your reunion, you continued, and with every word, you solidified your place in his heart. “maybe we could do that again some time, just like we used to. and you could bring your son too, if you’d like.” you were jumping out on a limb by assuming that the little boy was his son, but with the apparent protectiveness max displayed around him when you see them together, what else could he be?

“that sounds so fun! can we, dad?” alistair made his presence known by pummeling into max’s legs, nearly knocking him over with an excited hug. you grinned at the affection, watching max’s eyes fill with warmth as he gazed at his son. “i don’t see why not. just change into some play clothes and get your raincoat from the hall closet.”

alistair shoots with glee and is immediately running back to the apartment, excited to change clothes and play in the rain. you watch max’s eyes as they light up at alistair’s happiness, that flicker reminding of you of when you were younger and the world was kinder to you both.

here was your second chance with max, another opportunity to be with someone who never stopped loving you even as the seasons changed and the zeroes increased. “i’ll let you guys get changed, come knock when you’re ready to go.”

feeling an uptick in bravery, max placed a quick peck to your cheek before he turned toward his apartment. “will do, see you in a few.” the risk he took was well worth seeing you grow bashful at the affection, eyes flitting to your shoes before back at him, a soft smile across your lips. you watched him walk away before going back into your apartment, waiting for the rest of your life to begin at the rapping of knuckles on solid oak.

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#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord reader insert #maxwell lord imagines #emotional support capitalist #maxwell lord #pedro pascal #i’m soft #i’m not sure what this is but i hope y’all like it #ww84

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buckybeardreams · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: James “Rhodey” Rhodes/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James “Bucky” Barnes

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, Protective James “Rhodey” Rhodes, James “Rhodey” Rhodes & Tony Stark at MIT, Bottom Tony Stark, Top James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Tony Stark is a Pillow Princess, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Come Swallowing, Come Eating, Spit As Lube, kinda voyeurism, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Sappy, Tony’s a brat, Rhodey loves to spoil him, Sweet Tony Stark, Adorable Tony Stark, 1980s, Established Relationship, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/Sub

Summary:

Tony and Rhodey have been together since the end of freshman year at MIT and there’s no doubt in either of their minds that they’re in love with each other.

They’re perfect for each other in everyway.

Tony is wild and reckless and Rhodey is protective and doting. Tony likes to fly high and throw away all of his cares, but it’s okay because Rhodey keeps him grounded. After all, Tony may be the life of the party, but he’s definitely the light of Rhodey’s life and Rhodey wouldn’t have it any other way.

Word Count: 5886

AC/DC was blasting through the speakers, bodies jumping around, people singing along, nodding their heads or grabbing someone up close to feel them up. Tony was knocking back drinks at the bar with Rhodey, laughing over some joke that wasn't nearly funny enough to have them cracking up the way they were. Alcohol was coursing through their veins, their inhibitions all but gone as they refilled their shot glasses.

The room was dimly lit by black lights, but the walls were lit up with smattered white paint that glowed in the fluorescent lighting. Tony’s Black Sabbath shirt was lit up like a glowstick and his face was lit up with a grin. He let out a holler, climbing up on the bar top, bouncing on his toes to the beat, his hands reaching up to the ceiling as his bouncing turned into swaying.

"I love this song!" Tony screamed so Rhodey could hear him over the bass that practically shook the ground.

Rhodey's hand smacked against the bar as he cracked up again. They were fucked up and having a blast and when Tony fell off the bar and landed on his ass, Rhodey scrambling off his stool to check on him, Tony just popped back up and burst into a fit of giggles.

"I love you, Rhodeybear!"

Rhodey did his best to control the laughter that wanted to bubble back up and to switch over from party mode to must-protect-Tony-from-himself-at-all-costs mode. Rhodey tugged him close, nuzzling at his cheek.

"Love you too, Tones,” He murmured softly in his ear. “Why don't we go grab some snacks, hm?"

Tony sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around Rhodey’s neck.

"You're no fun, Rhodey."

Rhodey just rolled his eyes.

"Come on, pretty boy. I don't need you throwing up all over me again, so let me get you something to settle your stomach."

Tony protested a bit, but otherwise let Rhodey tug him into the kitchen of - well, Tony wasn't entirely sure who's house they were at. Rhodey easily lifted him up onto the counter before rifling through the cupboards for something he could feed to his boyfriend. Tony was grinning, giggling intermittently and humming off tune even though the music was muffled by the walls.

"Thanks, honeybear," Tony cooed when Rhodey handed him a packet of saltines. "You're such a good provider."

Rhodey snorted.

"I know, I worked so hard to hunt down that prepackaged snack for you, baby," Rhodey said sarcastically.

"Mmhmm," Tony hummed in agreement, munching through a cracker. "You know pretty girls like men that can provide for them."

Rhodey raised a brow at him, nudging Tony's legs apart until he could nestle himself between them, his palms flat on the countertop.

"Yeah? And what about pretty boys?"

Tony's eyes sparkled and he tossed the saltines aside in favor of wrapping his arms around Rhodey's neck. Tony licked his lips in a way that he hoped was seductive and moaned softly in his ear.

"Us boys are totally self-sufficient, babe. We don't show emotions unless it's for artistic purposes. We love shaggy hair, bangles, and pants so tight it shows off our bulges and our tight asses, but we can provide for ourselves and all the pretty girls that hang off our arms just fine. Thank you very much."

Rhodey poked at his side and Tony giggled.

"Oh really?" Rhodey teased. "I was under the impression that it was only those neon shirt wearing, disco dancing boys that still want to provide for the pretty girls."

Tony threw his head back and laughed, happy and carefree. Rhodey loved that sound and he grinned at the beautiful boy pressed up close to him. He still couldn’t believe that Tony wanted him sometimes, but damn was he thrilled to be able to hold him close. His hands left the counter gripping at Tony's thighs and Tony's legs wrapped around him, his arms tightening around his neck and his hips lifting off the counter to rock against Rhodey.

Rhodey's lips fell to his neck, sucking on the pale skin and Tony whimpered, tilting his head to give him more room to suck and lick, his teeth nipping lightly right below Tony's ear and pulling a moan from his lips. Tony's hands clutched at his shirt and he ducked his head into Rhodey's neck, nuzzling against him sweetly and Rhodey groaned, tugging him closer, wanting to have Tony pressed up against him, wanting to feel all of Tony.

"Rhodey," Tony whimpered. "Need you."

"Shh, I've got you, baby. Why don't we head off to bed? I think the party's dying out anyways."

That was a blatant lie. People were still partying hard and probably would keep going until the day broke and people had to start worrying about the homework they would need to rush to finish, and the jobs they needed to get to so they could afford to continue being a university student. Rhodey was mostly saying it for Tony's sake, to appease his boyfriend, because Tony hated to leave the party.

Partying to Tony was a way of life, the best way to live life really, and Rhodey would do whatever he could to keep Tony safe while still letting him have all the fun he desired. Realistically, Rhodey wasn't great at telling Tony no. Especially when all Tony had to do was pout and Rhodey couldn't help but give him what he wanted.

Tony accepted the lie eagerly though, resting his head on Rhodey's shoulder when he was lifted into his arms. Rhodey kept one hand securely on Tony's thigh, even though Tony was clinging to him and definitely not going anywhere. He snatched up the pack of saltines in his other hand. Tony would probably want to eat more after they fucked.

Tony barely remembers the walk back to their dorm. He has a vague recollection of whining about the cold breeze brushing against his skin and Rhodey cooing at him like he was adorable or something. Tony was not adorable. He refused to accept that assessment. He was hot as hell and totally fuckable, but he was not cute or adorable or, God forbid, sweet. It didn't matter how many times Rhodey said otherwise, it just wasn't true. Tony refused to believe it.

Tony was pulled out of his thoughts by Rhodey laying him down on his bed. They used to be roommates, that's actually how they met in their freshman year at MIT, but now they had separate dorms. Tony's roommate Sam was probably still out partying with his own boyfriend, but Tony wouldn't be surprised if they showed up at some point. Not that Tony was concerned about them walking in on him and Rhodey. Tony was anything but prude.

He knew he looked great and he had exactly zero shame. Which is why he had been so willing to streak across the campus in broad daylight when Natasha dared him to. He hadn’t even been drunk at the time and he’d made a lot of new friends that day. There was no better ice breaker than hey, I’ve seen your ass before. Rhodey found the whole incident far less funny than Tony had, mostly because the dean threatened to expel him for it.

"What are you thinking about, pretty boy?" Rhodey murmured, brushing his fingers through Tony’s hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Tony blinked, focusing on Rhodey and glancing around the room like he was only just acknowledging where they were. Rhodey was hovering over him and Tony felt safe under him. Rhodey was a solid presence in his life, always there, his love never wavering, a consistent source of adoration and on top of that he knew how to get Tony all soft under him. Rhodey damn near worshipped Tony's body and Tony never had to worry about being left unsatisfied.

Tony had a lot of sex in high school, but what he had with Rhodey was so much more than just sex. The sex was amazing, sure, but Tony was convinced that it was so much better because they really loved each other. That and the fact that they both had experience and knew what not to do after all their shitty hook ups and short lived relationships in high school. There was also the aftercare that had never really existed in high school for Tony. Rhodey always cuddled Tony up close and brushed his fingers through his sweaty hair, telling him how perfect and pretty he was. Tony loved that part almost more than he loved the actual sex itself.

The foreplay leading up to sex, the during, the after, it was all perfect with Rhodey. He was the perfect combination of protective and in control while still being caring and more than willing to spoil Tony. It worked out well for both of them, because Tony was a bit of a pillow princess and Rhodey was happy to do all the work for him.

Then there was their day-to-day relationship. The easy teasing, the shameless flirting, the banter and inside jokes that no one else understood. The way Tony's eyes sparkled when Rhodey walked into the room and Rhodey smiled softly the moment he saw Tony. The way Tony didn't think about anything before he did it and it only works because Rhodey overthinks everything. Tony was a wild child, bold and spontaneous and way too reckless for anyone's good. Rhodey leveled him out by being serious when the situation called for it, giving Tony his way whenever he could, and when he couldn't he would pull him close and kiss his pouty lips in apology.

They really were two parts of a whole and if Tony believed in soulmates he would believe they were meant to be together. Rhodey definitely believed in soulmates and he was convinced that his whole life had led up to that moment when his eyes locked with Tony's from across the room and his body lit up like fireworks. He knew from that moment on that nothing before that had really mattered except as a stepping stone that would take him to that moment with Tony. Tony thought that was ridiculous. He may be spoiled, but Tony was brilliant and logical, unless it came to dares and drinking, and he insisted that there was no solid proof that souls even existed, let alone that they could find deep and meaningful connections in other souls.

Tony may not believe in soulmates, but he did know that he loved Rhodey more than he would ever love anyone else and as far as he was concerned that's all that mattered.

"I love you, honeybear."

Rhodey looked amused but fond as he kissed Tony, soft and sweet.

"That's what you're thinking about? Loving me?"

Tony nodded, whimpering.

"Thinking about you, Rhodey. Always thinking about you," Tony breathed out softly, the words barely more than a whisper, a gentle caress against Rhodey’s ear that made his body light up all warm and fuzzy like he was warming himself in front of the hearth.

Rhodey's eyes were sparkling and he looked a little in awe like Tony had just gifted him the moon and the stars.

"Fuck, you're just the sweetest little thing, baby," Rhodey groaned, trailing kisses down Tony's jaw and neck.

"Not sweet, just horny," Tony corrected.

Even to his alcohol addled brain Tony knew that his statement fell flat. All the evidence pointed to him being sweet on Rhodey and though he would never deny loving Rhodey, he was not going to admit to being sweet. Rhodey snorted, letting the knee in between Tony's legs press against the hard line in Tony's skin tight pants.

"Yeah, I can tell, baby. You're so hard for me." Rhodey's hand groped at Tony through his pants, making him grunt and his hips jerk up into his touch. "Jesus, you're wet too, baby."

Tony whined, shutting his eyes tight as his cheeks lit up in embarrassment. There was definitely a sizable wet patch growing on the front of his pants and the fabric felt uncomfortable against Tony’s skin, but he was too drunk to really care about that.

"Rhodey!" Tony squeaked.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. You know I like it when you make a mess for me."

Tony made a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan and Rhodey just chuckled, shifting so he was in between Tony’s legs and settled back on his knees so he could undo Tony's pants.

"I got you, angel. You just lay there and look pretty for me. I'll take good care of you."

Tony bit his lip, his eyes hooded as he peered down at Rhodey, not even attempting to help him as Rhodey tugged his pants down. Rhodey cursed when he realized that Tony was going commando. Really he should have known. When Tony was wearing pants that tight he didn't like to wear underwear.

Rhodey didn't wear pants that tight, because he refused to have his junk pressed up against metal. Tony said it was worth it because they made his ass look so fucking good, but he had come to Rhodey crying on more than one occasion after catching skin while zipping up his pants. Rhodey was always quick to tug him into his arms and soothe him, but the moment that Tony had recovered from the traumatic experience Rhodey was teasing him about it. It never seemed to deter Tony from wiggling his way into another pair the next night they went out though.

As much as Rhodey loved the way that Tony looked in his skinny jeans, they sure were a pain to get off of him, especially since Tony was basically deadweight under him. Tony was just about as spoiled as it got, though to be fair Rhodey played into it by never demanding that he do anything on his own. Sometimes Tony liked to be independent and if he decided he was going to do something by himself then he was stubborn about it. On the other hand, Tony was equally as committed when he decided to not do something.

Tony's hand was above his head, brushing idly over the wooden headboard, only half paying attention to Rhodey undressing him. It wasn't until his pants had been thrown on the ground and Rhodey started to kiss his way up his leg, his hand wrapped around Tony's ankle, that Tony's focus snapped back to him. He squirmed as Rhodey got closer and closer to his weeping dick and when Rhodey finally wrapped his lips around it, Tony cried out.

Rhodey let Tony's leg fall back to the bed as he sucked softly at Tony's tip, lapping up precum, before pulling away and nuzzling at his balls. Tony's toes were curling and uncurling, his hands clawing at the sheets, and small moans and whimpers were falling off his lips. Rhodey was thorough in his exploration of Tony's body, sucking his balls into his mouth and worshipping them properly before kissing and licking at Tony's smooth thighs, sucking hickeys into the unblemished skin.

Rhodey loved how easily he could mark up Tony. He also loved that by the time the next weekend rolled around the bruises would be gone and Tony's skin would be a blank canvas, just waiting for Rhodey to turn it into a work of art. Everything about Tony really was a work of art all on its own, from his round ass that was perfect for grabbing at and his tight little hole, so pink and pretty, just begging for attention.

He was short, damn near pocket-size, his body was slim and he had zero muscle mass on him, but his skin was pale enough to glow in the sunlight and Rhodey thought it was just about the prettiest thing ever when he saw his hickeys adorning his otherwise flawless skin. Tony's hands were soft, just the slightest of calluses on them from tinkering in the lab, and Rhodey loved to feel them roaming all over his much larger body. Rhodey was strong, his arms muscular, and his abs hard, but Tony still liked to use him as a pillow, so Rhodey had no complaints about it.

Tony's eyes were just about the prettiest eyes ever, dark and never ending. Rhodey could stare into them all day and never tire of staring into their depths. Tony's hair wasn't exactly long, but it wasn't short either, and Rhodey loved the way it stuck to his forehead after sex, all slick from sweat. It should have been gross, but nothing about Tony was gross. Rhodey could spend all day brushing his fingers through Tony's hair, sweaty or not. Rhodey didn't really care one way or another.

He loved the curve of Tony's nose, the dimples in his cheeks when he grinned, the way he arched his back so pretty and how his hands and feet were so tiny compared to Rhodey's own. Rhodey loved Tony's cock too, large enough to not be tiny, but still slight. Rhodey's hands were large enough that it sure looked tiny when Rhodey wrapped a hand around it.

Bottom line was that Rhodey was head over heels madly in love with Tony Stark. Had been since the moment they met and he doubted that would ever change. Tony could be stubborn to the point of being damn near infuriating. He was a mess and had zero direction in life beyond the party he had been invited to next weekend. He was in his third year of college, but still hadn’t settled on a degree yet. Which mostly exasperated Rhodey, because Tony was brilliant enough to pass any class and clearly obsessed with engineering and mechanics and everything maths or science related, but he couldn't make his mind up for the life of him. Despite all of that Rhodey absolutely adored him to the point where it was a little ridiculous just how in love with this boy he was.

Rhodey took Tony back into his mouth and reveled in the way Tony damn near screamed, his back arching off the mattress and his hands trying to find purchase on Rhodey's head. Rhodey's hair was a buzz cut so Tony couldn't exactly hold onto it, but that didn't stop him from trying. Rhodey just grunted when Tony clawed at his scalp and grabbed Tony's wrists, pinning them above his head.

Tony pouted, because not only was he unable to touch Rhodey now, but Rhodey had pulled off of him again. Tony peered up at Rhodey, his lips all pouty and his eyes all round and pretty just the way Rhodey loved.

"Rhodey!" Tony whined.

"You're fine, Tony. You just gotta be a good boy for me. You can do that can't you?"

Tony huffed in annoyance, but pursed his lips for a kiss. Rhodey chuckled and gave him what he wanted, because he really hated telling Tony no. Tony smiled into the kiss, forgetting all about being annoyed. Rhodey had a way of distracting Tony to the point that he was truly astonished that he could ever think about anything other than Rhodey and his touch and the way his smile was so fond and his words so affectionate.

"Keep your hands up here, okay, angel?"

Tony hummed, nodding his head, and Rhodey squeezed his wrists lightly before letting go and sliding back down to suck him off. Tony dropped his hands a couple of times, but Rhodey had the patience of a saint and each time he would just pull off and grab Tony's hands, putting them back where he wanted them before continuing.

It really didn't take all that long before Tony was screaming through his release. Rhodey didn't pull off that time when Tony's hands returned to his head. He did grab his wrists in one hand, holding them securely to Tony's chest instead, but he didn't stop swallowing down Tony's load and his free hand slipped down, his finger swiping through the saliva that was making Tony's balls glisten, before pressing into him and milking his prostate.

Tony's thighs clenched around Rhodey's head as he finished, the last bit of cum dribbling out of his slit. Rhodey eagerly licked at it and Tony whined, his legs falling open. His muscles went slack and his limbs felt like jello, or noodles, or any other food related metaphor for feeling boneless. Rhodey showed him some mercy when Tony jerked away from his tongue, feeling way too sensitive to be played with. Even Rhodey’s breath, all warm and tingly, was a lot when it brushed over Tony’s dick. Tony was relieved when Rhodey turned his attention elsewhere, pressing kisses to his thigh and sucking more hickeys into the slightly less sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you're so pretty like this, baby. So pretty all laid out for me. So soft and sweet for me."

Tony would have protested against being called soft and sweet, except he felt like he was floating and couldn't really find it in himself to care. If anything it just made him feel kinda fuzzy and warm inside. So Tony just hummed in agreement and reached out for Rhodey. Rhodey cooed at him and crawled back up to kiss Tony. It wasn't exactly the most coordinated kiss, because Tony's tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he felt like he was moving in slow motion, but Rhodey thought he was so fucking cute all fucked out like this.

Rhodey gave Tony a few minutes to just enjoy the after effects of his orgasm, murmuring soft words in his ear and shifting until Tony was cuddled up into his side. His fingers brushed through Tony's hair while Tony drew patterns on his skin. His head was resting on Rhodey's chest and his leg was thrown over his hips. Tony felt like he was in heaven.

"You okay, pretty boy?" Rhodey asked softly.

"S'good, Rhodey. Feel good."

"Yeah? You ready for more?"

Tony whimpered, pressing his face into Rhodey's chest and clutching at his shirt. Rhodey was still fully clothed and Tony was still wearing a shirt, but Tony didn't care. The fabric didn't feel like it was hindering them. He still felt just as close to Rhodey, like they couldn't possibly get any closer than they were now. He knew logically that what he was feeling wasn't just about physically being close to Rhodey, but about feeling emotionally connected to him. Rhodey would say it was a soul connection and in moments like this Tony was almost inclined to agree with him.

"No, just want you to hold me," Tony mumbled.

Rhodey smiled, his eyes adoring as he watched Tony rub his face against his shirt before huffing and shifting until he could bury his nose in Rhodey's neck and sniff at his skin. Rhodey chuckled affectionately, gripping lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Like the way you smell."

"Yeah? What do I smell like? Sweat?"

Tony shook his head slightly.

"Just smells good."

"Well, I love how sweet you get after you cum. You're so beautiful, baby."

Tony just hummed in response and Rhodey held him close until Tony lifted his head and looked around the room.

"What are you looking for, Tones?"

"Crackers?"

Rhodey glanced over at the packet on the side table, but didn't hand them to Tony, instead he untangled their limbs, shifting Tony off of him despite Tony’s protesting whines and obvious distaste for the new seating arrangement. Rhodey was now sitting on the edge of the bed and Tony gave him the most offended look.

"C'mere, baby. Sit with me and you can have some crackers."

Tony pouted and made grabby hands at Rhodey.

"Want my Rhodey!" Tony whined.

"Aw, I know you do, angel. Come sit with me," Rhodey coaxed.

Tony just whined and Rhodey raised an unimpressed brow at him.

"If you want something you need to be a big boy and ask for it, Tony."

Tony huffed in annoyance, pushing up until he was sitting up and glared at Rhodey like he had done something especially cruel. Tony hated being told off and he hated not being given what he wanted, especially when what he wanted was Rhodey.

"Help me," Tony demanded.

Rhodey just clicked his tongue and Tony whined again, a high pitched needy sound that perfectly conveyed just how little he wanted to do anything on his own right now.

"Please, Rhodey." Tony made grabby hands at him again and pouted, batting his eyes in the way that he knew was irresistible for Rhodey to deny him what he wanted.

"Aw, do you want my help, baby? Here, let me help you," Rhodey cooed at him, standing up and scooping Tony up off the bed before settling back on the edge.

Tony curled up in his lap happily and opened his mouth expectantly, letting Rhodey feed him crackers until the packet was almost empty. Rhodey kissed away the crumbs at the corners of his lips before laying Tony back down and pressing his fingers into Tony's mouth. Tony sucked on them obediently, eager to have Rhodey open him up. Tony, despite what the media might say, really didn’t just have sex all the time. When you lived in the spotlight the way Tony did anytime you were seen with a woman you ended up on the headlines, people gossiping about your latest fling like they actually knew something.

In reality, Tony hadn’t slept with anyone but Rhodey since they started dating in freshman year and they didn’t even fuck every night. While Tony was the life of the party and definitely a social bug, Rhodey was much more studious. He accompanied Tony to parties on the weekends when Tony really let go and partied the hardest and it usually ended in sex. To Tony there wasn’t that big of a difference between a Monday morning and a Saturday night, except that Rhodey had classes on Monday mornings so there was no sex to be had. Still Rhodey convinced him to keep his weekday partying to a minimum.

Tony complained about it frequently, because it wasn’t like he was failing any of his classes. They all knew Tony could show up hungover to every single one of his classes and still be the top student. Teachers loved him, his peers were eager to be put in a group with him, and only half of that was due to Tony’s charm and never ending string of jokes and sarcasm. Tony was brilliant through and through and he could spend an hour on a paper and score better than the kid sitting next to him who fretted over it for an entire week.

As much as Tony whined and pouted he loved knowing that Rhodey cared about him. He wanted Tony to have fun and be happy, but he also wanted Tony to be healthy and drinking through a bottle of liquor every night just wasn’t healthy by any standards. Tony was also pretty reckless in general, but add alcohol on top of that and Tony, even as smart as he was, was more than willing to do the stupidest shit like make photocopies of his ass with Clint and hang them up around the campus or jump off a two story balcony, because Bucky swore he could catch him. Tony had luckily not got too injured since the bushes cushioned his fall, but he had definitely bruised more than just his ego.

So Tony could see some validity in Rhodey’s concern about him having a little too much fun sometimes, and quite frankly he loved that Rhodey cared about his well-being. No one else really cared about Tony that way. Sure his friends cared about him, but they also were equally as prone to making dumbass decisions with him that ended in Tony promising to never do it again while Rhodey fretted over him and scolded him. It was a little annoying sometimes, but also endearing and Tony wouldn’t change it for the world.

Rhodey pulled his fingers out of Tony’s mouth and circled them lightly around his rim, pressing ever so slightly.

“Rhodey?” Tony murmured, mouthing at his jaw.

“What is it, baby?”

“Want you.”

“You have me, Tones.”

Tony smiled, a light blush on his cheeks at the promise behind those words. He laid there, not entirely still because he couldn’t help but squirm around a bit while Rhodey worked him open, but Tony let Rhodey do all of the work. He knew that Rhodey would take good care of him, he always did. So Tony just let Rhodey have his way, only begging for more a couple of times when Rhodey was taking way too long. Mostly he let Rhodey have his fun though, knowing that Rhodey loved to take things slow and torment Tony by teasing him. As much as Tony whined and begged, he really did love it and Rhodey was very aware of this.

When Rhodey did finally pull his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, flipping Tony over and lifting his hips to slip inside of his thoroughly loosened hole, Tony’s mouth fell open in a silent cry and his hands clutched at the sheets. Rhodey started out slow, easing himself in and out until Tony was whining and desperate for more. Rhodey didn’t speed up much, but he made his thrusts harder, mouthing at Tony’s back and shoulder as he took him apart little by little. Tony was an absolute mess under him, moaning into the pillow and unsure of whether he wanted to press back into Rhodey and demand that he pound him into the mattress like he did last weekend, or just go limp and let Rhodey have his way with him.

Tony settled on a combination of the two, his muscles feeling way too noodly and his head feeling too dizzy for him to really want to put effort into holding himself up. So he let Rhodey hold his hips up, otherwise melting into the bed, more than happy to just let Rhodey run the show. He did beg for more though and whine when Rhodey just chuckled in his ear and told him to be a good boy and take what he was given. By the time Rhodey finished inside of him Tony was glistening with sweat and barely able to open his eyes. He did little more than whimper when he felt Rhodey’s hips still, his hands gripping at Tony’s hips hard enough to bruise, and Tony moaned at the feeling of his cum painting his walls and making him feel all hot inside.

It was almost too much and Tony was just glad that Rhodey didn’t try to get Tony off again, because he was not ready for another orgasm. His body already felt lit up and hot to the point of feverish and he was pretty sure that if he hadn’t eaten those crackers that he would have thrown up by now. Rhodey seemed to understand that Tony had reached his limit though and didn’t attempt to push him any further. Instead he just flopped down next to Tony and pulled him into his arms, cradling his head to his chest. Rhodey tried to cover them up, knowing that Tony’s roommate would probably show up soon, but he gave up on that attempt when Tony complained it was too hot and just shoved the sheets back off.

That’s how Sam found them, showing up shortly after that. Tony didn’t even lift his head in acknowledgement when the door opened. He knew it was Sam, because he was the only other person with a key, so he wasn’t exactly concerned about it. Besides, Tony was far too comfortable all cuddled up to Rhodey and his head had finally stopped spinning, so he didn’t want to risk lifting it back up quite yet.

Bucky tugged Sam into the room, giggling and flirting, seemingly unaware of Rhodey and Tony. Sam noticed them and definitely noticed that they were naked, but he really didn't care. This was definitely not the first time he had walked in on Tony in a compromising position. Not to mention that Tony had no shame where his body was concerned and tended to lounge around in nothing but a band tee, seeming totally unperturbed when it rode up to reveal a whole lot more than just smooth thighs. Sam was much more focused on his boyfriend who was ready for his own post party fun.

Tony decided it was worth trying to move since Bucky was there. Bucky and Tony hadn’t gotten along all that well when they first met. There was a very mild jello incident where they both insisted that the other had maliciously taken the last jello cup from the cafeteria that led to a not so mild rivalry. It wasn’t until a drunken night of partying a few months into freshman year led to them making out and then bonding over equally awful hangovers that they set aside their differences. They’d been thick as thieves ever since and they’re make out session morphed into a lasting friendship.

"Bucky! Sammy!" Tony tried to squirm his way out of Rhodey's arms. "Want my friends, Rhodey!"

Rhodey just chuckled at his whining and nuzzled against his neck like Tony was the most precious thing in the world.

"No, baby, you're not going anywhere while my cum is still leaking out of you."

"Rhodey!" Tony whined, reaching his hand out for Bucky who looked over at him and blinked in surprise, like he honestly hadn't noticed he was there until that moment.

"Bucky's busy, Tony. You can cuddle with him when we're done."

Tony pouted at Sam's words, but Bucky's eyes fell shut and his back arched beautifully off the bed when Sam pressed a spit slicked finger inside of him. Tony didn't get to focus on them for long, even though he definitely had no qualms with watching them together. Rhodey slipped down and settled back between his legs, pulling Tony's legs up over his shoulders and lifting his hips up.

Tony squealed in surprise when Rhodey licked at him, his head straining to watch as he sucked and slurped the cum out of him. His squeal turned into a moan and his head fell back onto the bed. Just like that Tony lost himself in pleasure again and when it was done and Rhodey had him all curled up in his arms once more, Tony was way too out of it to care about cuddling with Bucky. He was practically asleep and more than happy to be in Rhodey's arms.

Bucky was in a similar state when Sam finished fucking him and he mumbled something about cuddles being able to wait until the morning, making a vague gesture towards Tony's bed. Sam and Rhodey just chuckled and reached over to switch off the lamps on the side tables. In the morning Tony and Bucky got to bond over their shitty hangovers again, becoming reacquainted with the toilet bowl, before curling up in Sam’s bed while their boyfriends bonded over just how adorable they were and an equally strong desire to fetch them breakfast and water and just in general coo and fret over them.

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Day 23 - Bunker Prom

“Okay… now Cas, put your arms around Dean.”

Dean grumbles, accepting Cas’s hold while laying both his hands atop Cas’s. Smiling when Jack gives the cue, waiting until his phone lowers once more. “Are you done?” he asks, “Because I am.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas huffs, breath ghosting across his ears, “let him be. He’s enjoying himself.”

“What about me, huh? When can I enjoy myself?”

“How many proms have you been to?” he asks, “And how many has Jack?”

Sighing, Dean bites his tongue as Jack repositions them on the stairs. This time stepping behind Cas so he can do what he did moments earlier. Chest pressed against his back, midnight blue of Cas’s tux eclipsing his forest green.

Jack never knew what prom was, until he scrolled through Instagram one morning and saw millions of posts from strangers he followed all talking about the same subject. “What’s prom?” he asked, entering the kitchen.

Dean couldn’t answer, not enough coffee in his system. And Cas was half-asleep on his back, lulled into that state by gentle movements of Dean’s cooking and how he softly hummed while working. Leaving Sam as the only person capable. “It’s a dance,” he says, “for teenagers.”

“Can I go?”

“To prom?” Sam barked a short laugh, too awkward for any actual amusement. “Sorry, Jack… prom is something that teenagers who attend high school get to do.”

He glanced at the younger boy, watching him deflate. “Oh…”

His heart panged in sympathy, egging him forward despite the lack of caffeine. Offering any kind of consolation. “Prom’s not that big a deal anyway,” he said, “crappy music, crappy decorations in a crappy gymnasium, a bunch of crappy people you barely gave a crap about – no booze. Hell, we could throw a better prom here in the Bunker.”

Which, when his mind caught up with his words, shows why Dean is better after drinking coffee.

Jack glowed, vibrating. “That’s a wonderful idea!” he said, bounding out of the room, “I’ll do research and – and make orders. A Bunker prom!”

Silence reigned for a few moments. Dean restarting as burnt pancake batter wafted past his nose, hurriedly flipping his latest piece in an attempt at saving it. “Shit,” Dean huffed, “we’re not really doing a Prom, are we?”

“I mean,” Sam winced, “you did say –“

“I didn’t say –“

“You said,” Cas interrupted, pinching at his nipple. “We could throw a better prom. Which means we are… for Jack.” Grip tightening across his stomach, Cas nestled further. “Worry about that later, though. You’re not as comfortable when you’re worked up.”

That was a week ago. In such a short time, Jack planned for everything. Decorated the war room in the chosen theme – Under the Stars. Fake shapes hanging from the ceiling on invisible strings and taped on every available surface. Map table covered by an ugly tablecloth where a punch bowl and bowls upon bowls of snacks sat. At least Jack let him spike the punch for this evening. He’d need to be less than sober knowing Sam was tonight’s DJ. If it weren’t podcasts, his music will have him sleeping on the dance floor.

If he ever made it that far.

“Jack,” Dean whines, “Can Cas and I go dance now?”

“Almost!” he promises, motioning them down the Bunker’s front staircase. Guiding them towards Sam, the taller man in a simple black tuxedo like Jack’s, hair pulled up tight in a bun. Texting while the laptop blared music. “Before we do, we’re going to read out the winners of our Prom King and Queen!”

“Really?” Dean asks, “We’re doing this? There’s only four of us, and last I checked –“

“And, this year’s Bunker Prom King is…” Jack pauses the music, digging behind the podium for a plastic crown. “Castiel!”

Castiel bows his head, accepting his title. “Thank you, Jack. I’m honored that you’d vote me King.”

Dean stares at the crown, lost in one of the plastic jewels. Mind spinning, thinking. Ignoring Jack as he moves on to announce the winner of Prom Queen, choice narrowed by one. Except Jack would never choose himself. And Sam sat there without any worry, practically excited. Meaning…

“Dean!”

He snaps his gaze over, finding Jack waiting with a smaller crown on his head. “You won Prom Queen!” he tells Dean, “isn’t that exciting?”

“I… you…” Dean stumbles over a heavy tongue, still processing the chain of events as Jack crowns him. And while Cas carries him back a few feet onto a makeshift dance floor, the first song starting up. Dancing around him because Dean’s feet haven’t gotten the memo. “Me?” he finally says, whispers, “I’m queen?”

“If you want,” Cas says, “I told Jack it’d be perfectly fine if we have two Prom Kings but he said this is how it’s done, given his research.”

“He told you about this?”

“Would’ve told you, too, but you were busy ironing everyone’s outfits for tonight.”

“Yeah, well… not my fault the rental place gave us wrinkly suits.” He shuffles along with the melody, forehead pressed on Cas’s. “Y’know, this is my second time being Prom royalty?”

“Second?”

“One year I won Prom King,” he tells Cas, “but they had to give it to some other guy because I wasn’t there. Had already left by then… dragged off onto the next town. Only found out about it because I rolled through there for another case years later, and the prom queen told me over some drinks. Said she was disappointed, because after the dance she was looking for a private audience with the king.”

Cas smiles, dropping a soft kiss on the corner of Dean’s lip. “Is that also tradition?”

“It can be our tradition?”

“I’d like that…”

Dean does, too. And their kiss. What he doesn’t like is when Jack steps in, keeping them at arms-length. “For the Holy Spirit,” he says, “don’t let me catch you two like that again.” He leaves them for the punch bowl, uncaring that they’ve stopped dancing.

“The Holy Spirit,” Dean parrots, “where the hell did he get his research?”

(Day 22 - Merchesters)

#supernatural #spn #cracktober #profoundnet #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic #spn fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #eileen leahy

67 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Scene Stealers

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin

Warnings: mild language, they both go through a lot of angst, but I can’t resist making it better with fluff at the end.

Genre: Violinist AU; College AU; Friends to Enemies to Lovers (AKA the Golden Triangle)

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Y/N and Seo Changbin share a tentative friendship, but when it comes to claiming first chair violinist for their school’s upcoming orchestra, their reasons for wanting the spot might just tear them apart.

A/N: Shoot, I was kinda mean to Changbin, but it was important for the sake of character development.

I had been playing the violin ever since I could first hold the instrument in my hands, smooth and luxurious paint glistening under the lights of my bedroom. It was the first time that I had ever fallen in love with something, and I passionately gave my heart and soul to the music I created. As a result, my entire life became consumed by my incessant desire to improve and rise high above the ranks of my classmates.

However, it wasn’t until I started university that I realized what competition truly looked like because everyone in my liberal art’s school was insanely talented. These were the same people who had also split their blood, sweat and tears into the pursuit of perfection. They shared the same aspirations, and their thirst for the very top was just as all-consuming as mine.

Ironically, our professor told us that we were acquaintances, first and foremost, and needless taunting and fighting would not be tolerated without serious consequences. But my classmates and I found ways around their rules, and the relatively harmless pranks usually sent strong messages to those who we perceived as threatening. Of course, there were also the occasional cliques that formed, and they usually consisted of like-minded individuals who knew that they could use one another to help their self-motivated aspirations.

But I never thought that I would join any of them until I met Changbin.

Because he seemed just like another face in the crowd, despite being alluringly handsome. Yet, when he managed a score a perfect A+ on our mid-semester examination, everyone immediately knew that he was not to be underestimated. Interestingly, Changbin often kept to himself in spite of my classmates’ approaches. They wanted him to join their circles because it was better to cement your status by joining with the best that our school had to offer. Plus, it allowed you to keep a close eye on the competition, and I had seen my fair share of friendships destroyed because of a petty disagreement.

But Changbin never seemed interested in making friends, and I admired his tenacity, which might explain why I allowed him to sit next to me at lunch since our other classmates were otherwise occupied with their own friend groups. And I certainly never considered that he had any ulterior motives, until he randomly started a conversation with me. At first, I was taken aback by the surprisingly timid greeting that he extended in my direction, but I decided that Changbin was harmless.

You see, I never intended to extend our relationship beyond casual lunchtime conversations, but he started sitting next to me in class as well. I wanted to protest the sudden change until Changbin changed my mind because he was helpful with our menial class assignments, and he even offered to help me with my general education courses. It registered as a kind-hearted gesture that seemed out of place considering our highly competitive field.

But I accepted his help because I genuinely appreciated anyone who could tutor me through basic calculus, and he was patient with me, walking us both through worksheet exercises with a calm and steady approach. After that, I didn’t mind acknowledging Changbin as a friend since he was always considerate and helpful, and his personality naturally complimented mine. Where I was quick-tempered and active, Changbin was laidback and gentle. I balanced him when he was struggling to find enough motivation to finish his assignments (even though he was a certified genius), and he managed to convince me to take breaks from making hundreds of highlights in my textbooks.

Yet, at the back of my mind was a constant reminder: Changbin was still one of my competitors, and I valued my future far more his friendship.

Present

I could tell that something interesting was about to happen when our Professor walked into class for our morning lecture. He smiled at the rows of students beaming back at him in expectation for whatever it was that he might be planning. “Students,” he said, pacing across the front of the room. “We have our first orchestral concert coming up.”

There was an excited murmuring that swept through the classroom, and I turned my head to the side to meet Changbin’s excited gaze. “Are you ready?” he asked, and I inhaled sharply around the smell of his cologne.

“Of course,” I said in response before looking back at our Professor.

“Most of the positions have been decided,” he continued. “But we still need someone for first chair violinist.”

My heart nearly skipped a beat inside my chest at the advertisement, and I clutched tightly to the edge of my desk. “This Saturday, I’ll be holding auditions at noon. Don’t be late.”

I leaned back in my desk while doing my best to restrain my excitement. Our Professor had already commenced the beginning of his lesson, but I couldn’t focus on anything else other than the coveted first chair auditions. It was everything that I had been working towards my entire life, and I was consumed with ideas for my song performance. Should I go for something classical? Or would that be too expected? Perhaps I should create something original?

The ideas were endless, and I waited until the end of class before I started speaking to Changbin in a rapid tone, hoping that he might give me some insights into my unfortunate conundrum. “I don’t know, Y/N,” Changbin said, scratching at the back of his head like he was nervous about something.

“You’ll come and support me, right?” I asked him. “I’d like to see you there.”

Changbin looked away from me. “Yeah, but I’ll be auditioning too.”

I immediately froze in my steps, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “Oh?”

“I thought you knew that,” he said, chuckling at the awkward situation that we found ourselves experiencing. “I’m not really interested in first chair, but my father said that he would be pull me out of the music program if I failed.”

I blinked at him, feeling like the entire universe had just been knocked off-kilter. “I guess you’ll have to try, then.”

“We can always practice together,” Changbin said with a note of desperation. “Just like we always do.”

“Sure,” I said, but the lie sounded inauthentic even to my own practiced ears. “Maybe we can try to schedule a time.”

“Tomorrow,” Changbin said, and his stare was intense. “I can meet you after class.”

“I’ll see if I have a free hour,” I said, and Changbin looked surprised that I didn’t agree to his offer.

“Do you already have plans?”

“One of my professors has office hours,” I said in return, even though we both knew that I rarely took advantage of meeting my instructors outside of scheduled classes.

Changbin nodded, but I could tell that he wasn’t easily convinced. “What about lunch? We can find something cheap in the dining hall. My treat.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Rain check?”

Changbin scoffed, reaching out for my arm to hold me in place. “Are you really mad about the audition?”

“Of course not,” I said, pulling my arm free from his unexpectedly tight grip. In actuality, I was far more disappointed than I was angry.

“Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose this.”

“I know,” I told him with a nod. “But this has been my dream since I was eight-years-old.”

“I get that,” Changbin said, and I could tell that he was frustrated. “It’s a competition, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t hang out.”

“You’re right,” I agreed with a tight smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around later.”

I thought that it seemed casual enough, but Changbin was nothing short of incredulous, shaking his head at me before I watched him retreat in the opposite direction.

The Next Day

It was late at night when my phone vibrated against my nightstand. I let out a groan as I rolled onto my side to silence the notification, pausing when I realized that it was a text message from Changbin: there’s a party tonight, Y/N. You should come with me.

I frowned at the mention of a party, especially when it was such a random request from Changbin. He had never invited me to this kind of thing before, so why was he asking out of the blue? Especially considering our earlier argument from the previous day.

Maybe he was trying to distract me, I thought to myself, snatching my phone and sending a reply back to him: Not tonight. I have plans.

It wasn’t necessarily true since I had initially planned to stay in my dorm room, but I suddenly thought of something that I could do to occupy my time. And it would also benefit me in regards to the upcoming auditions. But then again, when I really thought about it, I realized that Changbin was a contributing factor in pushing me to the edge of full-blown panic, and I was suddenly anxious to ensure my position for our school’s upcoming performance. Likewise, when I considered the situation, if Changbin was going to a party, then there was a good chance that our other classmates would attend as well.

With that thought in mind, I grabbed my violin case from its position against the wall because I had just received confirmation that I would have the practice room to myself - allowing me the rare opportunity to improve without the others around. And that most certainly included Changbin. It was enough to get my heart racing, and I secured my coat tightly around my waist before rushing outside, inhaling the cold, crisp winter air as I found myself practically jogging to the music building.

As I suspected, it was empty inside, and I turned on the lights and set-up some of the more expensive equipment that I wasn’t privileged enough to use outside of regular instruction. Satisfied, I sat down on one of the stools near the front of the room, tucking the violin against the familiar spot between my neck and shoulder, and I started to play with a huge smile pasted across my lips. Because this was when I felt the most comfortable, and everything was familiar, listening to the notes and chords form the beautiful melodies that had fascinated me as a child.

It was my favorite way to lose track of time, and I didn’t pay much attention to the late hour when I finished my entire set, pausing at the end of my performance to take in a deep breath. Was that okay? I wondered to myself, regretting the fact that I hadn’t bothered to record my practice run. Because it had become the best way to single out the little mistakes - whether it involved my irregular posture, or the slight hiss of a note that might go unnoticed by the untrained ear.

Whatever the case may be, I was too tired to revisit my prepared performance again, so I carefully cleaned up the practice room and stowed away my violin inside its case. Afterward, I took one last lingering look around the practice room before I was walking back outside. Thankfully, the building automatically locked itself behind me, so I knew that a Janitor had come by at some point, and the night was relatively quiet and undisturbed as I started walking back to my dorm alone.

However, any semblance of loneliness was quickly ruined by the unexpected vocalization of my name: “Y/N!”

I turned around, resisting the urge to roll my eyes when I saw one of my classmates running down the sidewalk. “Hey,” I said, keeping my tone inflectionless on purpose.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. “I thought you might come to the party.”

“I had other plans,” I told her dismissively.

“Yeah, Changbin said that he invited you,” she said, and I froze at the mention of Changbin. “He seemed pretty upset about it.”

I narrowed my eyes because I couldn’t quite figure out why she would feel the need to tell me that. “He knew I was busy.”

“I guess,” she said as if finally figuring out that I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

I nodded tersely, jerking my head in the direction of my dorm. “I was on my way back.”

“Oh, right!” she said, shaking her head as she took a step away from me. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“It’s fine,” I said dismissively, spinning on my heel as I continued the short trek back to my dorm room, and I tried to ignore how my mind seemed stuck on the revelation of Changbin’s dissatisfaction with my decision to stay away from that stupid party.

The next morning, I could tell that something was off with Changbin when I sat down next to him at our usual section. His gaze was cold when he acknowledged me, but he didn’t say anything as he continued flipping through the sheet music waiting in front of him. It was completely out of character, but I had bigger things to worry about, lending my attention to our Professor when he walked into the lecture room to begin our lesson.

However, at the same time, I was irritated with my train of thought because I found myself wondering about Changbin instead of the History of Mozart. It was a cumbersome predicament because I wasn’t the type of student who became so easily distracted. In fact, I once spent nine hours straight in the library researching for a project that wasn’t due until the end of the semester.

Get it together, Y/N!

“Okay, everyone,” our Professor continued. “We’ll pause here for a moment and you can discuss the Mozart Effect Theory with a partner.”

I immediately looked at Changbin who sighed as he allowed his pen to fall from between his fingers. “What do you think?”

I hesitated because his question could easily be taken out of context, and it could be applied to something far more personal than the Mozart Theory. “It’s interesting.”

“I agree,” Changbin said, and I could see his jaw clench. “I heard that you were in the practice room last night,” Changbin added, and his tone was strangely cold.

How did he even know that? I wondered, but I knew there was no use in lying. It had never even appealed to me. “I wanted to make sure my performance was ready,” I replied.

“You lied to me,” Changbin growled, and I decided that I didn’t like the way that he was talking to me.

“I never lied,” I said. “I told you I had plans.”

“To practice?” Changbin scoffed. “You’re the one who always tells me to that you can’t push yourself too far, but I’m beginning to think it was all some kind of plot to make sure that I stayed behind you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I would never intentionally jeopardize another student’s success.”

“Really?” Changbin questioned. “So, why was sneaking away to the practice room more important than taking the night off with me?”

His questions were becoming harder to answer, and there was a part of me that didn’t want to deal with unnecessary drama. I had always been told that I had an unfavorable personality, but it usually involved my inability to deal with these kinds of situations - when someone thought that my time was theirs to utilize as they commanded. Then again, maybe it was my fault because I had simply allowed Changbin to get too close, and I could easily rectify that problem.

“We were never friends, Changbin,” I said, refocusing my attention at the front of the room because the words hurt to vocalize aloud. “You should know better than that since we’re all competitors.”

“Is that what you think?” Changbin asked, and he looked at me closely, searching for something that I knew he wouldn’t find. “I’m sorry that I wasted your time,” Changbin concluded, and he returned to his work without another word.

On the day of the audition, I was surprised when I received a phone call from my mother asking to meet me for lunch before my scheduled performance. It was a breath of fresh air - a necessary distraction because my stomach hadn’t settled ever since I woke-up that morning. In fact, I was experiencing an onslaught of unexpected nerves that I hadn’t felt since my required entrance examination. Overtime, my confidence had steadily built to a healthy level, but the idea of the audition was enough to crumble the entire foundation.

But my mother’s smile was kind when she invited me into a familiar embrace, and I inhaled the smell of her sweet perfume. “Y/N,” she said, pulling away and looking at me closely. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I said, and she gave me a knowing look before inviting me inside the little cafe that we had agreed to meet at for our scheduled lunch.

“What would you like?” my mother asked as she stood next to the front counter.

“Whatever you think...” I trailed off, and my eyes settled on someone that I hadn’t spoken to ever since our cold exchange in class the other day.

The sight of Changbin sent another pang to my churning stomach, and my mother called my name when she noticed my distraction. “Is he a friend?” my mother asked, and I met Changbin’s gaze just before he decided to turn away from me.

“A classmate,” I said, and the words tasted bitter on my palate.

“Well,” my mother said, exchanging a few words with the employee behind the register. “I ordered us something light.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, jerking my head away from Changbin. “I’ve felt nervous all morning.”

“That’s not like you,” my mother said, and she gave me a concerned look.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I offered as an explanation, and I made sure that we sat far away from Changbin at the other end of the cafe.

Eventually, my mother clapped her hands together when a waitress brought our food. It seemed tantalizing, and I took a bite of my sandwich before quietly sneaking another glance in Changbin’s direction. The action was automatic, and I was crushed to see that he was gone. “Are you sure that boy was just a classmate?”

I sighed because leave it to my psychologist mother to understand everything better than anyone else. “I don’t know.”

My mother offered me a sympathetic smile, and I watched as her hand enclosed over mine. “Tell me about him.”

“I think we were friends,” I offered hesitantly. “But I screwed everything up.”

“What happened?”

“He was mad because I decided to practice instead of going to a party with him, which is really stupid since we have auditions,” I said. “I mean, we weren’t really ever that close.”

“Are you sure?” my mother asked, and I groaned at the look on her face because I had seen it many times before. “Did you spend time together outside of class?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Doing what?”

I considered her question, recalling my first meeting with Changbin as something inconsequential. But afterward, it seemed that our time started to matter more, like when Changbin came over to my dorm in the middle of the night because I was panicking over a calculus exam. Or, when he took me aside after class because I made a dumb mistake and he reassured me that it would only make me stronger. And then there were the little things in between those moments - casual conversations during our classes and lunch, walks to and from our dormitories, and hooking Changbin on one of my favorite dramas that I liked to watch when it felt like the world was too difficult to manage on my own...

I glanced up at my mother, and there was a sad smile waiting for me. “Y/N, I think you’ve made a mistake.”

Her assessment was difficult to accept because I had spent my whole life believing that I couldn’t afford to make mistakes. I always panicked on anything that strayed from perfection, and my mind was stubborn and impenetrable when it came to the smallest of errors. And considering the idea of losing Changbin as a mistake? It was an enormous blow.

“What can I do to fix it?” I asked my mother, and I was startled by my own voice because it sounded so small and insecure.

“That’s up to you to decide,” my mother said. “Some mistakes can be fixed in a million different ways, but some are so severe that you have to really think about the consequences.”

The nerves that I had experienced before were suddenly affecting me tenfold, and I knew that there was only one thing that I could do to remedy the worst mistake of my life.

Stage fright used to be a foreign concept to me, but when I walked across the stage for my audition, the heat of the overhanging lights added to the sweat glistening on my skin, and it seemed like I was experiencing tunnel vision when I managed to single out a familiar face. As such, I could see Changbin in the audience, watching me with narrowed eyes. It was a look that I never expected to receive from someone who was normally so quiet and reserved. And I couldn’t stand to know that it was because I had been so cruel to a man who had stood loyally by my side.

“Y/N,” my Professor greeted me warmly, shifting through the papers on the table in front of him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I tightened my grip around my violin, positioning it between my neck and shoulder as I had done a thousand times before. But this time was different because I already knew the outcome, and there was a tremendous weight being lifted from my shoulders as I pulled the bow across the string with too much pressure. The accompanying screeching noise was jarring, and I could see some of my classmates flinching in reaction.

Meanwhile, my Professor’s mouth had fallen open in shock, and I closed my eyes and sighed. “Thank you,” I said, bowing in front of my stunned Professor before I walked off the stage.

It was hard to remember what happened thereafter, but I recalled ignoring the voices of my classmates backstage, fighting the crowd for the fresh air waiting outside. But the sunlight was the first thing that I really felt, and it was warm and reassuring against my skin as I inhaled with several, deep breaths. It was a beautiful day, and I found myself smiling as I walked over to one of the little benches waiting along the edges of the giant auditorium building.

For a moment, I wondered what my younger self would think about this strange turn of events. Surely, past Y/N would launch into some sort of tirade about how irresponsible I was being with our future, telling me about the “path” that we needed to follow in order to find success in life. And it was stunning that one kind-hearted boy, with dark hair and eyes, had managed to show me what it was like to appreciate something more than music. Because it wasn’t everything that life had to offer, and I really wanted to take advantage of the other exciting adventures that I had scorned in favor of longer practices or reading textbooks about the countless theories of instrumentals.

What a waste of time, I thought to myself, craning my head back until I could feel the pressure lessen in my neck.

“Do you understand what you just did?”

I opened one eye, finding Changbin standing in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. My heart reacted to him before my brain, and I scrambled for the right words to describe everything that had happened. “I thought about it beforehand.”

“And it seemed like a good idea to you?”

“Considering the circumstances,” I said, giving him my full attention because he deserved nothing less. “I want our Professor to nominate Seo Changbin for the first chair, and I made sure that I couldn’t get in the way of what you deserve.”

Changbin was quiet for a moment, even as his arms fell to his sides. “You did that for me?” Changbin asked with eyes that were alight with wonder.

“Yeah.” I nodded, savoring a passing breeze. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Why?” Changbin asked, and there a slight hint of anger in his tone that told me he hadn’t forgotten my dismissal of him from earlier this week.

However, I was calm when I answered him, like an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “For most of my life, I had this idea that there was only one future for me, and I needed to follow some kind of weird, strict plan...” I paused, patting the empty space on the bench next to me. Changbin hesitated for a moment before he sat down. “But lately, I’ve started to really hate that kind of thinking, and I hate the fact that I thought playing music was the only thing that could give my life any sort of meaning. Because it’s really not.”

“Do you believe that?”

I smiled at his innocent question. “Meeting you taught me a lot, and I’ve finally realized that I want other things in my life.”

It was a solemn declaration, and when Changbin looked at me, I knew that it was true. “Like...friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” I agreed, knocking my shoulder against his. “I also want to be a better version of myself. Someone who’s less obsessed with perfection.”

“You want me to think that I’m responsible for this epiphany?” Changbin asked, and his accompanying laugh filled my heart with a bright feeling of happiness.

“It starts with you,” I admitted. “I want you to ace that audition.”

“Well, after hearing all of that...” Changbin trailed off, and he straightened his shoulders. “I have some things that I should tell you.”

“Me?” I repeated, giving him an incredulous look.

“You.” Changbin confirmed, and the way he wrapped an arm around my shoulders was nothing short of delicate. “I like you a lot, Y/N,” he confessed. “This whole fight...I’m glad that you seem happier, but I would’ve never let it last. I need to be around you, and I want you to understand because I’m hoping for something even bigger than friendship.”

I swallowed hard, processing his words. “What do you mean?”

“Something like this,” Changbin said, and I wasn’t expecting the soft fingers directing my head to the side. But I really could’ve never anticipated the first touch of our lips together - gentle and inquisitive. They were soft like the rest of him, and it reminded me of a velvety touch that was impossible to resist. “Look at me, Y/N,” Changbin requested, and I forced my eyes to open to meet his gaze. “Forget about competitions or cliques,” he said. “Let’s just make it Y/N and Seo Changbin. I think that might benefit us both.”

I laughed at his explanation, but there was nothing humorous about the affection in his dark gaze or the beautiful intimacy that could only be shared between two people who had finally made their peace with the union of our two very different souls.

#stayverse #stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #skz #skz fanfic #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin angst #changbin fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

97 notes · View notes

terreisa · 3 years

Text

Love Down the Line: Chapter 6

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, AO3

~*CS*~

Chicago, May 15th

Emma could feel a headache starting to bloom at the base of her skull. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep, which wasn’t unusual, and she’d only had the chance to drink one cup of coffee since the day started, which was. To make matters worse the sound check had been going wrong since the beginning and she had been forced to play the first verse of Bite of Iron four times, never making it past the first line of the chorus before having to start again.

“Alright, Emma, let’s see if that fixed it. Whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded, biting her cheek against the tirade she wanted to let loose. Barely a minute in the sound tech interrupted her again. Flexing her hands into fists over the keys of the piano she counted to ten, then did it backwards before speaking into her mike.

“Can we take a break?”

“Su-”

“They’ve almost got it, Emma. Right gentleman?” Regina broke in from the side of the stage where she was standing with the others since they weren’t needed for the song. She had barely looked up from her phone and was still typing away as she continued, “You do want it to sound right, don’t you? Let them do their job and then you can move past this one.”

At Regina’s words something in Emma snapped. She stood abruptly from her piano, a loud buzzing in her ears. Someone, she wasn’t entirely sure who, started saying something to her but she barely heard what they were saying as she practically ran offstage. All she wanted was to get a lungful of fresh air, anything to ease the clawing at her throat.

In her rush to find an exit that led outside she ended up getting turned around and completely confused as to where she was. The clawing feeling had traveled down to her chest, compressing her lungs so it was getting hard for her to breathe. Before she could lose her shit completely a warm hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged gently.

“Follow me, love.”

She let Killian lead her through the labyrinth like corridors, barely paying attention to the turns they were taking or the doors they were going through. However, when they entered a stairwell she paused.

“Killian…”

He looked back at her, giving her an encouraging smile, “Trust me?”

It wasn’t even a question to her. Somehow, in the month since they’d been thrown together he had become someone she trusted completely. She nodded and his smile widened as he squeezed her hand and began their ascent. Though she found she was distracted from their progress again at the sight of her hand in his, not to mention the way his jeans hugged his ass as he climbed.

All too quickly Killian opened a door that had sunshine streaming into the stairwell and the heat of the day rolling over them. He had taken her to the roof of the auditorium. It was dotted with air conditioning units and not much else but she noticed that it did have a pretty good view of the city that was sprawled out all around them.

“It’s not much but it’ll give you some time to yourself-” he held out a slim silver can that she hadn’t noticed before, “I hadn’t seen your ubiquitous starbucks cup today so I thought you might want this. Come back down when you’re ready and don’t worry about Regina, I’ll handle it.”

Taking the can of coffee, the one that was on her rider for the days exactly like the one she’d been having, a brand that could only be found in the corner of Maine that Storybrooke inhabited and that Killian had clearly gone to the green room to get before finding her, she was suddenly overwhelmed in a different way than before. No one, not even Mary Margaret and David had known exactly what she needed when things got overwhelming and provided it without question or needing an explanation. He made to leave but she gripped his hand in hers, holding him in place.

“Stay?” She asked softly, “Please?”

His eyes searched hers before he seemed to find what he was looking for. With a nod he walked them over to a small strip of shade provided by the stairwell housing and sat with his back against it. Once he settled he patted the spot next to him, wordlessly inviting her to join him.

The surface of the roof was warm when she sat but not uncomfortably so. There was a slight breeze, not enough to dry the sweat that was gathering at her temples but enough to break the heat of the day. Emma could hear the traffic moving along and through the city, a not so unpleasant hum that matched the air conditioning units kicking on and off to make a bit of a song. She felt herself smile at the thought of putting lyrics to the sounds and then snorted in amusement at the fact that it was easier to make up a song on the fly than to play one she’d intentionally written.

“Something funny, Swan?” Killian asked, his own voice laced with humor.

“Only if you’re me,” she said wryly, snapping open the coffee and drinking near half of it one one go. She tipped her head back and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, “Did you know?”

“Hmm? Know what?”

She kept her gaze trained upwards but could imagine his eyebrow ticked up in slight confusion and intrigue, “When you said to play Bite of Iron, did you know that I’d never played it live before?”

“Not once?” She shook her head and he gave a low hum, “No, love, I didn’t. It is a beautiful song, it’s a shame the sound guys did it such an injustice. No wonder you stormed off.”

For a moment she almost didn’t want to correct him. There really was no reason to explain or even justify her behavior. She was sure that he’d seen worse from others in the business, she’d seen it herself. The thing was she wanted to tell him the truth of what had upset her. It was like the words were pressing against her lips, ready to spill out into her lap. Just as she made up her mind to go through with it, absolutely certain that he wouldn’t judge or condemn her, he began to speak.

“Everyone assumed Milah was the diva of the group and she could be, if the occasion called for it, as could I. But Liam-” he chuckled and then sighed, “Liam never gave into theatrics but if things weren’t going exactly how he wanted it he could, and would, let his displeasure be known. He once refused to board our tour bus one evening because the driver had decided to take a nap and got to the venue nearly an hour late. We had to charter a plane to make it to our next stop on the tour because Liam’s obstinance caused an even bigger delay to our departure. The label made him pay for the cost of the plane from his own pocket. Served the git right.”

Emma sat completely still, entranced. He hadn’t talked to her about Liam since Cincinnati and she’d noticed that he’d been writing in his notebooks more since then. She had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same push that she was to share the painful parts of his past. To trust her with them.

“You miss him,” she said softly but surely. It was easy to hear the longing in his voice.

“Aye, I miss them both. It’ll be twelve years and I still expect Liam to come walking into my apartment calling me ‘little brother’ or I’ll wake and reach for Milah across the empty bed-” his hand clenched on his thigh before he sighed again, “There’s a constant ache in my chest for missing them.”

She didn’t know what to say, what he would want to hear. There had been precious few people in her life that she felt that strongly about and she had never lost any of them. Just thought of either of the Nolans or Ruby being taken from her as Killian’s brother and fiance had been had her breath backing up in her throat.

“This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you escaped, was it?” he asked, nudging her shoulder with his. “Apologies.”

“Don’t,” she said quickly, grabbing onto the hand that was still clenched on his thigh. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about them. I get the feeling you don’t do it very often.”

“That I don’t-” he unclenched his hand and she let hers settle in his open palm, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest as she did. “It was too hard at first, I’d lash out or dive deeper into the bottle, most times both, and then people just stopped asking. Decent people that is, the gossip rags and paps are the soulless exception.

“Milah hated them from the start. They followed her around more than the rest of us seeing as she was the lead singer and a beautiful woman to boot. Once they got it in their minds we’d been romantically involved for longer than we had been they were relentless.”

Emma tried to hide her surprise at learning that nugget of information but with her hand in his he appeared to have felt it. He grinned, his eyebrow raising in an unasked question.

“It’s just, uh, I thought that you guys were, um, high school sweethearts,” she meant to make it sound like a statement yet it came out like a question.

He laughed, a small but genuine thing, his free hand scratching at the back of his neck, “Our publicist spun it like that and we went along with it for interviews and such. More romantic he liked to say. Truth was even though we’d gone to the same secondary school she was in Liam and Robin’s year and I’d hardly spoken to her then. It was only when they started playing together after they’d left that I got to know her. She seemed so sophisticated and worldly to my scrawny teenage ass, even though she was only three years older than me and had never left our tiny village either.

“It wasn’t until during our first real tour that we gave into the attraction that’d been growing between us. From then on it was like throwing a match at a puddle of petrol. It was us against the crazy world we’d been thrust into and we thrived on it,” he said with a frown. “We partied a little too hard, fought a little too meanly, and were dependent on each other in ways I know now weren’t healthy. I loved her deeply, I always will, and I know she loved me but sometimes I wonder if we would have made it had she lived.”

“I think…” Emma paused, wanting to get the words right and not completely destroy whatever it was that was growing between them at the same time, “You kinda seem like a guy that wouldn’t let something like that slip through your fingers. The way you were talking about her just now? I think you would have fought like hell to stay together.”

“I’d like to think so,” he said, ducking his head. “Liam would say the same thing when I voiced my doubts. He’d been dead set against it at first and wasn’t too pleased with how we behaved most days but he always said he understood how much we loved each other. Of course he also understood that we wrote some of our best songs once we got together.”

“Some of your best songs,” she said thoughtfully, drawn back to the reason she’d fled the stage, “You were right about Bite of Iron, you know. When you suggested it I was trying to figure out why the set didn’t seem right. The Boston crowd was so surprised when I started playing it.”

“It’s an exceptional song, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Do you know what it’s about? I mean, you’ve obviously listened to it a lot since you knew it would work out.”

The tips of his ears tinged pink, “I’ve listened to it a time or two. It’s a love song is it not? Or rather, a love lost song?”

She snorted, only half in amusement, “Something like that. Everyone knows that I’m an orphan and all that jazz, I’ve never hid it and Regina says that it’s my ‘thing’. You know, the thing that makes me unique.”

“Bollocks, you make yourself unique,” Killian said heatedly, squeezing her hand in emphasis, “Your songwriting, your playing, everything about you sets you apart from the chaff.”

It was her turn to blush, “I mean, obviously, but, you know, it’s Regina.”

“Aye, she’s not one prone to mincing her words,” he scoffed.

“No, but she has my back and knows how to bury things. Like how I went to juvie and had a baby.”

Her attempt at nonchalance fell flat as Killian stiffened beside her. She steeled herself, ready for him to pull away from her both physically and emotionally. While she absolutely believed he wouldn’t think less of her or go to the press with the information she had no idea what his reaction could be.

“Did you- was it-” he huffed out a breath through his nose, clearly frustrated. A muscle in his jaw was ticking but when he looked at her his gaze was soft, “I’m sorry that happened to you, love.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. Coming from anyone else she would have brushed it off as a platitude or pitying. Killian sounded like he was the one who had caused it all and was apologizing for it. She felt a glowing warmth expanding inside her, giving her the courage to continue.

“I didn’t do it, in case you were wondering. I was young, stupid, and in love, not the greatest combination-” she deadpanned, shrugging one shoulder. Taking a deep breath she forged on, “I had just turned seventeen and was on my own since I’d had the bright idea of running away from the Nolan’s. I don’t even remember why now, probably some fucking teenage angst or something. Doesn’t matter. So I met this guy, Neal. And he was older and knew how to survive on the streets and he got me. Just… understood all the shit I’d gone through with the whole orphan thing and didn’t judge me for it. We had this whole outlaw life, living in the back of this car I’m pretty sure was stolen, sneaking into motel rooms when people checked out for a few hours, and stealing but only food. Well, I thought it was only the food.

“A few months after we got together he comes up to me in a panic, telling me how the cops are after him because of some watches he’d stolen and left at the bus depot and how he’s gotta go to Canada and I couldn’t go with him-” she gave Killian a rueful smile, “You probably know how well that went over.”

“Like a lead balloon I’m guessing,” he murmured with a somewhat pained chuckle.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “So I come up with this brilliant plan, yeah? Why don’t I go get the watches? Prove to him that he needed me and obviously the cops wouldn’t be looking for a teenage girl, right? He just lit up when I told him, said I was a genius and gave me the key to the locker he’d stashed the watches in. It worked, I got those damn watches.

“When I got back to where Neal was hiding out he gave me some song and dance about fencing the watches to get the money we need to go to Canada. How I couldn’t go with him because the guy he had to deal with doesn’t like strangers or whatever. Before he leaves, though, he gives me one of the watches, a giant clunky thing covered in diamonds that was worth a hell of a lot more than anything I had ever owned in my life. He tells me-” she scoffs and scowls at the memory, “tells me he doesn’t want me to be late for when we were supposed to meet back up. I swallowed every word, spent the whole day dreaming up all sorts of plans of what our life was going to be like in Canada while I waited for it to be the time we’d agreed on. I wasn’t late but neither were the cops who’d been tipped off that I’d be there holding stolen property. The fucking, lying, sneaky asshole had left a couple of the watches in my backpack along with the one he’d put on my wrist. Got a year in juvie for being his goddamn scapegoat.”

“But you were innocent,” Killian spluttered, moving to stand until she grabbed his arm and forced him to stay next to her.

“Which is part of the reason why I went to juvie instead of prison,” she said calmly, even though she was amazed he was indignant on her behalf. “They couldn’t prove I had anything to do with actually stealing the watches, just that I had some of them on me. The other part was being closer to seventeen than eighteen. Another month older and I think they would have tried me as an adult.”

“They caught him at least? This Neal?” Killian spat out the name, his lips curling back in disdain.

“I don’t know and I don’t really care anymore,” she answered honestly.

He nodded as if it made sense before lowering his eyes and asking hesitantly, “And the… erm… the babe?”

She sighed and felt as if she had dredged it up from deep in her soul. Her hand was still on Killian’s arm and he placed his other on hers, squeezing her fingers gently. Somehow she knew if she said she didn’t want to talk about it he’d understand and wouldn’t push and that more than anything gave her the courage to keep going.

“I found out I was pregnant about a month into my sentence and the first person to congratulate me was a guard passing by my cell. I think that more than anything made me realize how much I’d fucked up. The next time I had phone privileges I called Mary Margaret and David. Back then I told myself that it was because they were the only number I had memorized but I think deep down I knew they wouldn’t judge me or just brush me off as a runaway they had no obligation to help anymore. Mary Margaret took the next flight out to Phoenix and David came a few days later. It was the first time I’d ever felt really, truly loved. They could only stay for a week but we became a family in that week.”

She could feel her throat tightening but kept talking, “The Nolans were there for me the whole time, as much as they could be with their jobs and the group home. They even said they would help me raise the baby, if that’s what I wanted. I couldn’t do it though, I wasn’t ready to be a mom.”

“Swan-”

“Did you know that they handcuff you to the bed when you’re in custody of the state and in labor?” She plowed on, determined to finish, “Like I’d make a run for it while a human being came tearing out of me. The cuffs were steel but it doesn’t sound as poetic. I didn’t even hold him. I knew I wouldn’t let him go if I did.”

She had managed to keep the tears that had gathered in her eyes from falling until that moment. It was something she’d only admitted once before, to Mary Margaret on her son’s first birthday. Before she could think to wipe the tears away Killian was doing so with a warm and gentle touch.

“You’re incredibly brave, Emma, did you know that?” He asked, his voice full of awe.

“I wasn’t ready to be a mom,” she repeated shakily, “I knew that giving him up was the best thing for the both of us.”

“Would you want to find him? Now?”

She shook her head before his questions were finished, “I already did, or a private investigator did. He’s happy with his adopted family, he’s got a brother and friends and a good life. He doesn’t need me coming in and making a mess of it.”

“You wouldn’t make a mess of it,” Killian said vehemently.

“Yeah, I would,” she said patiently. She gave him a sad smile, “Let’s for a second forget the fact that we’re sitting on the roof of a venue that in six hours will have forty-five hundred people waiting to hear me play. Just the fact that his birth mom would come out of nowhere and decide to insert herself into his life is bad enough. With all this shit on top of it? No, he’s happy and that’s all I need to know. If someday he decides to find me then I’ll be ready to be a part of his life, but only when he’s ready not before.

“Anyway-” she plowed on, “playing Bite of Iron brings all that shit up again. It’s why I’ve never put it in the lineup before.”

“And then my ignorant ass goes and pushes you to do just that,” Killian spat out bitterly.

He pulled his arm out from under hers but she immediately grabbed his hand, unwilling to part with the comfort his touch had given her.

“It was more like a gentle nudge,” she said teasingly, glad to see his mouth tick up for a moment in amusement. She sobered, “I wouldn’t have put it in if I didn’t want to play it. It’s been eleven years and I can’t heal or whatever if I keep it all bottled up inside. It actually hasn’t been that bad, playing it every night, today was just… a little too much with the constant interruptions and then having to half play it over and over.”

“Well, your diva fit was well justified, I’d say.”

She surprised herself with a burst of laughter. Killian was clearly trying to lighten the mood, she could still see tension in the way he held his shoulders and the slight furrow of his brow, but he was making the effort for her. The glowing warmth from earlier expanded and morphed into butterflies. Leaning into him she pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, for helping me escape.”

Killian looked dumbfounded, his mouth dropped open in surprise. She grinned at his stupor. Rising to her feet she felt like she could play Bite of Iron twenty times in a row if he was the one listening, watching her with that same soft look on his face. Just as she was about to say as much or something even more ridiculously sappy the door leading to the roof opened.

“Oh, thank God, you are up here!” Tink breathed out as soon as she caught sight of them, sounding immensely relieved. “Regina’s either going to murder you or make you pay out of pocket for the time she says you’ve wasted. Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

“I-” Emma patted her back pocket and winced when she hit nothing but her ass, “Shit, I think I left it on the piano.”

“Do not tell Regina that,” Tink said horrified. “Tell her it died or spontaneously combusted or whatever, anything that will keep her from blowing another gasket. She’s already muttering about breach of contract.”

“It’s only a breach of contract if I don’t play tonight, not the goddamn soundcheck from hell,” she rolled her eyes.

Killian stood and Emma winced again as Tink’s eyes widened as she noticed him. Tink turned her bewildered gaze to her and Emma knew she would be facing a full inquisition at some point. Not wanting to give away anything more than she already had she avoided both Tink and Killian’s gazes as she marched to the door.

“Come on, let’s get Regina’s tantrum and the rest of soundcheck out of the way and then go find some deep dish pizza. My treat.”

As she stepped back into the air conditioned stairwell she breathed a sigh of relief that Tink had interrupted them when she did. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for whatever leap she’d just taken when it came to Killian. She also wasn’t entirely sure she shouldn’t have leaped further.

#captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fan fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fan fiction #captain swan fanfiction #ouat ff #my writing

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earwen · 4 years

Text

retrouvailles

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 4: Future

This one could go for past as well, but I’m dropping this today because the setting’s technically in the future. Here’s 7k+ words of Aang and Toph being soulmates.

Read it on ao3 or under the cut

retrouvailles {French} the happiness you feel upon reuniting with someone after you've been apart for a long time

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, soft in the clamor of the snack aisle—

It’s violent, the way Toph’s ripped away from her little daydream, and her body’s still flinching as her eyes and ears slowly readjust to the people around her. There are no flying bisons and wingled lemurs here because they don’t exist, because she’s in a goddamn grocery store.

She tiredly lifts her gaze up – all the way up – to an angelic figure leaning over her, what with the lovely features and the bright light brimming around his shaved head. He’s all broad shoulders and lithe muscles and effulgent tattoos, and even though he looks like an incredibly kind person, something about him sets her teeth on edge. Like she should know him by now even if she’s never met this man in her life.

“Was I blocking you,” she replies, unable to help the flatness of her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Toph moves to walk around him, oddly reluctant.

“No, wait—” the guy blurts out, panicked, his nimble fingers reaching out to curl lightly around her shoulder blade—

And they say it’s like nothing else matters, that touching your soulmate for the first time is like sating a hunger you never knew you had.

She’s always thought that was a fat load of bullshit – what, you meet the stranger that’s supposed to be your other half and it’s happily ever after just like that? – but here she is, a hypocrite to her own thoughts.

Toph hones in on the warmth that’s molded around the curve of her shoulder, feeling a far too pleasant burn smear its way down her spine. She leans away from the stranger by a few inches, just to test it their limits, but fuck, it hurts. She’s met him for a total of three minutes and the sensation of not touching him already leaves her with an ache she can’t even begin to understand.

He makes a hurt noise in his throat when she leans away, jarred by the abruptness of their separation. His hands follow after her, touching the points of her elbows this time, and Toph feels the tremor in his hands, hears the quickness in his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, tightening his fingers around her skin. “I know we don’t know each other, but—”

“This is so stupid,” Toph groans, but she’s slipping a palm over his wrist thoughtlessly, touching the thrum of his pulse. “Why a fucking Walmart of all places?”

Her soulmate’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Why not a Walmart?”

Because it’s the lamest place ever, she wants to say, but then she catches his smile and she stutters to a stop. She gazes at his pretty grey eyes and knows them, has seen them in multiple lifetimes.

(It’s you reverbrates in the space of her chest that used to be hollow, that used to be a void tundra.)

There’s a soulmark on her forearm now – long, golden vines with leaves that twist into the complimentary ones wrapped around his own skin, and the longer they touch, the more intertwined their vines become. It’s both thrilling and unsettling since, so far, Toph’s lived through twenty years of her life with a bare forearm.

“So,” Toph ends up mumbling, because she knows where this is going to lead and because someone has to eventually, “your place or mine?”

‘

“Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?”

“I don’t see why not.”

‘

Her soulmate’s name is Aang, a vegan pacifist whose happiness seems endless, and the while he’s chirping to her about his life like an excited hummingbird, she finds it harder to fathom why the fates specifically chose him for her.

“I’m talking way too much about myself,” he chuckles in embarrassment, pink dusting over his cheeks.

Shrugs. “I asked.”

Aang’s curled up with her on his couch – his apartment had been closer - idly playing with one of her hands. Their tea sits on the coffee table, cold and forgotten, but she’s too stupidly inebriated with the feeling of his hands on her own to care. Toph doesn’t mind the constant touching, surprisingly. It feels so much better than anything else, and there’s this still moment where they watch his vines crawl from his fingers over to hers.

“What about you?” He’s close enough for his cheek to brush her shoulder. “Tell me about yourself? Pretty please?”

“I’m an art student,” she grins back, unwittingly, at his enthusiasm. “I go to BSSU.”

He positively beams at this. “I go there too! Why is it that I’ve never seen you around campus before?

“Different curriculum maybe?

Toph feels the heat of his gaze wandering everywhere, stiffening slightly only when it drops to the puckered skin on her right leg. “Is there a story behind this?” she hears him ask quietly, his fingers hovering over the scar, but not quite touching it.

“You’re going to think I’m fucking crazy.”

“Try me.” Aang’s isn’t sporting that bright smile anymore, but his face has softened completely. “If you want, that is. You don’t have to tell me.”

It’s strange and new and terrifying, but he’s a gentle breeze in their bond, surrounding her without suffocating her, smoothing over the points of her body that are maybe a little too rough, a little too jagged.

“Well, there’s this forest near the house I grew up in,” Toph starts, drumming her fingers along his soulmark. “I walked through it so many times that I practically memorized it. I really thought I could navigate myself through the forest blind, so I put on a blindfold—”

(The darkness doesn’t welcome her, not the way she wants it to.

Her bare feet press into the earth and she doesn’t feel the vibrations of the earth moving around her, doesn’t hear the songs of squirrels skittering up the old trees, of worms writhing in the dirt. She feels disconnected from everything, small and insignificant.

She carefully glides along the flat surface of the boulders, but misses her next step, falls down and keeps falling—)

“Anyway, now I have a permanent reminder of how much of a dumbass I was,” she says, half bemused, half self-depreciating.

But Aang opens his arms, his face silently pleading, and she hesitates a little. Her soulmate is a stranger wrapped in odd, familiar skin and when they’re pressed together, it’s like they’re speaking an old, sacred language only their bones know.

They should be in bed right now like most soulmate couples their age – or at least kissing, maybe - but she supposes she’ll fail at that too amongst other things.

So, Toph leans in, biting back a satisified hum when his arms coil around her shoulders. He smells like clean laundry and a hint of cinnamon, and when he sighs in content, she feels her muscles relax.

“I like to stand on the edges of high places,” Aang noses against her hair, probably unaware that’s he’s doing it too. “My friends can’t stand it when I do it, but I can’t help it. I never have the urge to actually jump,” he adds in a small laugh, “but I like to imagine that there would be a way for me to somehow catch myself if I do. Then I remember that it’s not possible and I feel this...incredible loss.”

An unexplainable loss you never had in the first place. Yeah, she gets it.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” His eyes languidly trail after the uplifted bend of her mouth. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

There’s an anxious spike of hope blooming in the pit of Toph’s stomach and it’s not coming from her. She doesn't exactly know how she knows this either, but it's all Aang she's feeling.

It’s coming from him.

Which is ridiculous because Toph shouldn’t be able to feel him like that. Soulmates don’t work like that. There’s soulmarks and the constant need to be close, but not this invasion of other people’s emotions—

“Yeah, sure,” she says.

Everything is okay. Everything is fine.

Get a fucking grip.

‘

“Some bonds only need an hour of touching and they’re okay for the whole week,” she says at the threshold of his front door, lingering. “Maybe we’re like that? I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“O-Okay,” Aang stutters, brows furrowed, looking like he really wants to follow after her like an imprinted duckling.

Toph lets go of his hand then and the sharp sting she feels should have been taken as a warning. She takes a step back though, forcing herself to play dumb to his white fingers clenched around the door frame and the sudden pallor of his face.

Her fingers tingle in a particularly awful way as she waves goodbye to him and the discomfort is rudimentary, really. It’s nothing she can’t handle, considering she’s had worse done to her skin.

She makes it as far as the turn of the hallway, right when Aang’s out of her view.

Pain grips at her right arm and the numbness flares outward, careening her into the wall. She can’t fucking breathe because it feels like her lungs are being scraped out by a rusty spoon, like her ribs are being branded by hot iron—

Aang barrels into her at a frightening speed and they go teetering to the floor, but he curls his body around hers protectively, possessively, breaking her fall. He’s mouthing something frantic against the hollow of her throat, but she can’t hear it because she’s too overwhelmed by the sensation of his pain pressing down on top of hers.

Whatever she’d felt earlier is vaulting back tenfold and it’s so strange to feel her own emotions looped back to her through a feedback that’s experienced through him. She feels him desperately wanting to take away the unseen hurt throbbing in her while trying to compress his own down and, gods, this isn’t normal.

“Um,” Toph whispers, her voice trembling with her body as she clings to him. “Okay, that was a dumb idea. I’m sorry—”

“Maybe you should stay with me for a couple of days—”

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We have school. How are we going to do—”

“There’s an exemption form we could fill out online. It’s for soulmates who have recently bonded. It’ll get us out of classes, just – please, please don’t leave.”

“I don’t have extra clothes on me or a toothb—”

“You can borrow my clothes. You’ll drown in them because you’re so tiny,” Aang laughs, hoarse, sliding shaking fingers into her unbound hair. “And I have an extra toothbrush you can use. We’ll figure it out, Toph, please.”

What the fuck, what the fuck—

“Alright.” She closes her eyes, surrendering herself to raw instinct by sticking her nose to the skin underneath his jaw. “I’ll stay.”

‘

“Choose well. A sky bison is a companion for life.”

He’s holding an apple in his hands and his legs are jittery – like it’s impossible for him to stay still. The baby bisons are circling their mother in the air and his breath catches because he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

There’s a small bison just a few feet away, looking like it’s waiting for him. It appears to be the runt of the litter, but that’s okay because he’s the smallest in his class too. If it accepts him, then perhaps they can grow together.

Biting his lip, he carefully approaches the small bison and offers the apple to it.

It – no, the bison is a he – sniffs the fruit along with his extended hand before opening his mouth expectantly.

He tosses the apple in and allows himself to pet the bison on the nose while the latter chews. He doesn’t expect the bison to nuzzle into his touch with a pleased rumble, but the creature does anyway, leaning too far in until he loses his balance and falls on his rear end. The bison licks at the whole of his face, pulling happy giggles from his mouth and he knows, then and there, that he’s found the one.

“I guess this means we’ll always be together,” he smiles wide, hands rubbing on either side of the creature’s muzzle—

‘

Toph blinks awake to find herself plastered to Aang’s back with both of her arms snaked around his chest. One of his hands is clasped in hers, their fingers twined, and she has a leg thrown over his hip as if she’s slept with him like this their whole lives.

His bedroom is small and simple, but there’s a slight airiness to it that reminds her of the temple in her dreams – or not dreams, apparently. She sees this temple in the sky in quick flashes while she’s awake too, and if they don’t show her in the company of monks, then it’s always with that six-legged bison.

“I can hear you thinking,” Aang mumbles sleepily.

She presses her face to his shoulder. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, you waking up actually yanked me out of sleep too.” Gently tightens his fingers around hers, reassures her that he’s not upset. “It’s not a big deal. What’s bothering you?”

I think I’m seeing your memories from a past life never quite leaves Toph’s mouth.

“Nah, it’s nothing.”

And maybe that’s the wrong thing to say because Aang just turns in her hold and exhales into her neck, slipping his arms around her waist. His fingers tease the hem of a shirt that’s too big on her and he asks in a hushed tone if it’s okay. Toph nods, her skin shivering in loose delight once his palm slides underneath the shirt to splay itself flat against the small of her back.

The moonlight peeking through the curtains shows her one side of his face – the argent in his eyes, the fan of his inky lashes, the indent of his cheekbone. Objectively, he’s stunning, so she could have done a whole lot worse.

“You know I can tell you’re lying, right?” The corner of Aang’s mouth lifts, amused. “I can feelthat something’s wrong.”

“Can we just—” Opens her mouth and shuts it, frustrated inside. He rubs his thumb in calming circles against Toph’s skin and she still doesn’t know if she likes how one touch can clear her muddled thoughts just like that. “Can we just pretend that we don’t have some weird telepathic-empathic thing between us? Just for tonight at least? Fuck, it’s a lot to unpack on the first day.”

His hurt is muffled, but it’s there and she feels it her chest, taking root. “You think it’s weird?” he whispers, sounding like an open wound.

“Doesn’t this freak you out?”

“Yes, of course it does.”

But underneath the blanket of her own emotions, she senses fear for this bond. Fear at the thought of Toph rejecting him so quickly. She tightens her leg over his hip instinctively, telling him no, she’s not rejecting him. She doesn’t think that’s even possible at this point.

He presses a smile into her clavicle, relieved. “Do you remember dinner? When you were groaning after taking the first few bites of the pasta?”

Toph blushes. “Don’t make fun of me! I didn’t know artichoke sauce was even thing!” Or so delicious. “I was caught off guard, okay?”

“You were happy eating what I made for you and I felt that happiness,” Aang says, so soft. “It felt beautiful. You felt beautiful, Toph.”

(And I’d give you the whole world to keep you happy forever, he sings into her veins even if he doesn’t realize it yet, even if he’s just as scared and lost as she is.)

What an optimstic fool he is. “I might drive you nuts,” Toph throws back instead.

“Oh, I know you will.”

She pinches Aang’s side, cackling at his high-pitched shriek even when the sharpness of her index finger and thumb on his skin echoes against her own.

‘

“Where the hell have you been!”

“Chill, Sparky,” is Toph’s lazy response as she waltzes into her apartment, leading Aang in by their tangled fingers. “I texted you.”

“‘Be back in a week, dude’ doesn’t give me much to go by. A fucking week? You could have been dead for all I knew!”

“Stop projecting your sibling issues onto me. I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, when you found Sokka and Suki, the three of you didn’t leave your room for more than a week, you dirty hyprocrite!”

“At least you knew where I was the whole—” Zuko abruptly closes his mouth, his gaze darting to the towering man at Toph’s heels. “Aang? Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Toph lifts both their arms, showing him the fresh knitted vines gleaming on their skin. “He’s my soulmate. How do you two know each other?”

“I know Sokka and Sukki,” Aang chimes in cheerfully. “Wow, what a small world, huh?”

“How’d you two—”

“Anyway,” she interrupts brashly, not in the mood to retell their romantic, fateful meeting at Walmart, “Aang’s gonna be staying here for a week and then I’ll go back to his place for another week, and so on and blah blah. At least until the bond settles. You get it. Let us know when dinner’s ready,” she adds, practically yanking at Aang until they’re both confined in her bedroom.

Aang taps the end of her nose. “That was mean.”

“Please,” Toph makes a point of rolling her eyes. “Zuko barely said a word to me after touching the other two. They burst into the apartment like a fucking hurricane, almost doing it right there in our living room. So fucking rude.”

‘

She’s in the shower when she suddenly feels absolute terror choking at her, nearly making her slip on the tiles.

Toph barely wraps herself up in a towel before she’s barging out of the bathroom, extremely thankful that her room’s close by. Aang’s on the floor, back leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, quivering fingers curled around one of her older sketchbooks. Aang blindly reaches for her when she approaches, pulling her down onto his lap and burying half of his face into her shoulder blade.

“Is my art that terrifying?” Toph tries to joke, but he doesn’t even smile.

The drawing had been done in charcoal, dark and blurry around the edges, and she almost doesn’t remember drawing it. There’s an enormous centipede thing crawling out of a cave, its legs reaching out to take, to steal. The only colors on the sketch are the red lips and the grey eye markings of the Noh mask it’s wearing on its face, but she’s not sure if that makes it better or worse.

Aang’s voice is a quiet, little thing when he asks, “Where did you see this creature?”

(“My old friend, the Avatar,” the monster utters in a serpentine hiss. “It’s been a long time.”

“You know me?”

“How could I forget you? One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me,” it accuses, the white mask flickering into the face of an older man with a mustache and a long beard, “maybe eight or nine hundred years ago.”

“I didn’t know that.” It’s difficult, keeping his emotions out of both his face and voice. “Why did he – or I – try to kill you?”

The thing changes again – a beautiful woman this time, with long brown hair and familiar, sad eyes.

“Oh, it was something about stealing the face of someone you loved.”)

“A nightmare, I think,” Toph answers carefully. “Actually, you know what—”

She rips the page out of the sketchbook and crumples it tightly in her first. It feels like an ugly omen against her palm, riddled with malice and sadism, and she chucks it into her trash can.

“You didn’t have to do that. That was your work,” Aang murmurs, his guilt gnawing at her.

“It was a creepy-ass drawing. I don’t know what I was thinking when I drew that.” Pause. “I have better stuff on my desktop if you want to look.”

He kisses her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “I hope the creatures on there are less frightening.”

“Don’t be such a wuss. Wanna see what a badgermole looks like?”

‘

After their soulbond settles, they’ve learned that they can get through the day by themselves relatively alright as long as there was skin-to-skin contact for at least an hour beforehand. It no longer hurts to be away from Aang, but it is uncomfortable as fuck, like an itch burning inside that’s screaming at her to scratch it until it’s bloody and raw.

Which is fine.

So ridiculously fine.

The lecture is a drone in the back of Toph’s mind as she doodles along the corner of her notebook page to take her mind off the itch. The mintiness of the gum she’s snacking on ebbs away suddenly, turning into something vastly different.

She chews again, tasting raspberries, fruit juice, bananas, and...almond milk?

Aang is waiting for her outside the door when her class ends and as soon as he sees her, his entire face lights up like the sun. His content rolls over Toph in a soothing whisper and she subconsciously mimics his smile, her body humming with want.

In spite of the protesting noise she makes, Aang scoops her up in his arms until her feet are dangling above the ground. He nuzzles his cheek to hers, his breath warm against the ridge of her ear, and he twirls them once because he can’t help himself. She hisses at him to put her down, but it doesn’t really bother her as it normally would with literally anyone else.

“Did you have a smoothie?” Toph asks.

“Yeah.” He keeps his hands pasted to her hips, his eyes bright with excitement. “I tasted the gum you were chewing earlier.”

“I want to say that I’m surprised, but am I really at this point?”

A deep chuckle as he cups her face in his palms. “Don’t be so glum. Think of all the possibilities! What if you’re really hungry, but you don’t have time to get food because you’re taking a test or something? I could eat something and you’d be able to taste it.”

“Oh, yeah, super cool. What if you’re hungry and I decide to get a hamburger?”

He blinks, his grin faltering. “I’m vegan, Toph. You know that—”

“You’re not actually eating it – you’re only getting a taste. Like you said, all the possibilities. You ever want to try a steak? Or a milkshake with actual milk?”

Toph bites back a smile, doing a poor job of concealing how much she really enjoys it when he gets all flustered.

‘

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“You drunk already?” Sokka passes a bemused glance at her. “I don’t remember you being that much of a lightweight.”

It’s warm in the bar – she can tell by the slight flush on Sokka’s cheeks that has nothing to do with being intoxicated – but Toph still burrows her nose deeper into the wool scarf coiled around her neck, still tightens her coat around her. Aang may be on the other side of the city, but he’s somewhere outdoors, somewhere cold, and the alcohol isn’t making her any warmer.

Aang doesn’t do well in colder weather, but he’s having fun with his friends even if he’s getting the both of them sick. She can feel him missing her, missing the press of her fingers on his skin even though they’d seen each other hours ago.

“You have two soulmates,” Toph grumbles. “The idea of past lives shouldn’t be that fucking implausible.”

His shoulder gently bumps against hers. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset—”

“Okay, okay, let’s start over,” Sokka smiles at her, completely genuine and not at all mocking. “Why do you suddenly believe in reincarnation?”

“I have these dreams,” she says, her brows knitting together as she curls her hands tighter around her glass. “Well, I used to think they were dreams, but then I’d see something while I’m awake. They’re always about Aang in this completely different life and it’s like I’m a passenger in his body, just going through the motions.”

“And you think these things are actually his memories from a past life.”

Toph exhales quietly, the lines of her body losing their tautness. She feels mildly less insane now that someone’s acknowledged it for her.

“They feel too real to just be my imagination. It’s always him in the same timeline.”

Sokka hums, thoughtful. “Maybe they are his memories, Toph. Who knows? Soulbonds can’t be explained, but people accept them anyway. For what it’s worth, I believe you.”

“If this is you making fun of me, I swear to—”

“No, I really mean it! Like, if I didn’t end up with Suki and Zuko – or either of them – in a previous life and reincarnation’s just a thing that’s giving me a second chance to actually be with them, then that’s pretty cool. Fate’s doing me a solid.”

“Second chances,” Toph muses, more to herself than anything.

“Yeah, why not?” He downs the rest of his glass. “On a side note, what else are you feeling from Aang since the bond started? Something tells me you guys are...not normal.”

Toph starts to respond, but then she hunches over the counter, shoulders shaking. It slams into her out of nowhere and she has to clamp both her hands over her mouth to muffle the uncontrollable laughter. She’s yanked further and further into Aang’s joy, feeling it so keenly that the corners of her eyes begin to prickle with tears.

“What is happening,” Sokka blurts, alarmed and concerned. “Are you having a stroke—”

“One of Aang’s friends did something stupid and funny,” she hiccups out in short breaths, still guffawing. “It might – it might have been Bumi.”

Sokka gawks at her, frozen in place. He then orders another round of drinks for the both of them.

‘

Monk Gyatso lies against the wall, just bones and dust, and the omniscient rage of a thousand lives sinks down on him—

‘

The weight of his grief completely buries Toph, so much that she collapses in a public restroom. Her fingers scrabble at the tiles beneath her, desperate to clutch onto something, anything, as the memory consumes her. Something vibrates in her pocket for a long, long time, but she’s too busy screaming soundlessly into her palm to notice.

Panic slips into Toph, making her blood run cold, and the longer she ignores her phone, the more frenetic her soulmate feels—

“Toph?” is his voice on the other line, wildly frantic, when she finally answers the call. “Did someone hurt you? What’s wrong, where are—”

“I—” Her breath comes out in harsh pants. “It’s o-okay. You don’t need to come.”

Rustling, like Aang’s already preparing to step out. “No, no, that’s not what it feels like,” he argues softly, and now there’s pain in his voice because she won’t let him come to her, won’t let him take care of her—

Her chest squeezes tighter, aching. “I slipped. I’m, uh, good now.”

“Toph, please.” His voice breaks and she screws her eyes shut, tasting saltwater in her mouth. “Please let me come to you. Tell me where you are.”

So she whispers back that she’s at the tea shop near their school, the one owned by Zuko’s uncle.

Aang rushes into the women’s restroom ten minutes later – a feat in itself, considering the usual commute is twice that amount – and she’s never wanted him to see her like this, hunched under one of the sinks and sobbing over a memory that isn’t even hers.

He sucks in a sharp breath like Toph’s pain cleaves him. His eyes are red-rimmed and she can’t even look at him because she’s so sorry. She’s sorry that he’s lost his people, sorry that he’s lost his home, sorry that he’s lost his entire culture.

The way he stalks over to her is noiseless, ghostlike even, and then he’s plucking up all the bird bones of Toph’s body, folding himself around her and concealing her from the rest of the world. It makes her cry harder, if anything, to the point where she’s dry-heaving against his chest, but it helps when she pushes her hands under his shirt to touch the tight skin around his hips.

She tells him everything. That he was raised by Air Nomads in another life. That he was something called the Avatar. That they lived in a world where people could manipulate the elements as they pleased.

That they lived during a long, long war.

“You controlled the element of air first,” Toph rasps out later, when it finally doesn’t feel like her lungs are going to give out on every inhale. “You and Appa got caught in this storm, and then you did something that left you frozen at the bottom of an ocean. Katara and Sokka found you, but when you came back to the Southern Air Temple, everyone was dead and it had only felt like you left days ago, but a fucking century passed—”

To his credit, Aang doesn’t once ask who Appa is or what the Southern Air Temple is supposed to be. His heart beats faster and his skin jolts at the familiarity of her words, but he holds her still.

“Breathe, T,” he says, rocking her, sweeping her dark hair away from her neck so that he can kiss the small space behind her ear.

She does. Inhales for four seconds, exhales for six—

It’s a breathing technique that Monk Gyatso had taught Aang. Had taught her.

Their soulmarks cling to each other distressingly, her aurelian leaves and vines overlapping his.

“Do you ever dream of me?” Toph asks, calmer.

“I have many daydreams about you.” And that’s mischief slanted against her nape, rounded out by his mouth. He’s soft and playful now, making her sink further into his embrace. “When your memories come to me, I don’t actually see anything.”

Tries not to be too disappointed. “Oh.”

“No,” Aang smudges a smile against the corner of her mouth, gently thumbing a tear-stained cheek. “You were blind in your last life, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see. You didn’t need to. You felt these vibrations in the earth and it allowed you to see and hear things no one else could. You were the greatest earthbender that ever lived.”

“She sounds way cooler than me.”

He tips her face up. “You’re just as cool as she is,” Aang breathes, and there’s a brush of lips against hers, slow and sweet. “Just as beautiful.”

(I found you again, her soul thrums out, the loudest it’s ever been inside her.)

Toph twists in his arms, chasing after his mouth. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time, tasting his honeyed delight and feeling it mingle with her own. His hands shove themselves up her sweater to frame the space of her back as he parts his mouth, allowing her to—

“Gee, it looks like you guys are fine in here,” comes a monotonous drawl that has them breaking apart, sputtering. “And here I was, worried for no apparent reason.”

“Mai!” Aang practically yells, his ears turning beet red. “When did you – why are—”

The other girl waves a dismissive hand. “Toph and I were going over work. What was supposed to be a five-minute restroom break turned into a forty-minute one,” she adds pointedly, raising a brow.

“Sorry,” Toph says sheepishly. “I had a thing. Like a panic attack or whatever. It’s gone now, so no biggie.”

Aang, severely disagreeing with her on that last statement, wraps her up tighter in his arms.

“We’ll continue tomorrow,” Mai says then, and it may just be Toph’s imagination, but she thinks she sees the former’s face soften a bit. “Get some rest.”

After Mai leaves, Aang plays with her loose hair. “We should probably leave too.”

“Yeah.”

But Toph’s leaning in, pausing only a few inches away from his lips and grinning when he automatically closes the distance. She feels that buzzing of happiness again and whether it’s his or hers, it doesn’t matter.

‘

Aang’s shoulders are still quivering as he drops shaky, open-mouthed kisses along the crease of her hip. He’s been pulled apart to pieces, beautifully and painstakingly, and the remnants of bliss still drumming within him makes it slow to put those pieces back together.

She only knows because she feels the exact same way. She feels everything.

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” His voice is wrecked and his lips are so kiss-swollen, but he’s still this hopelessly exotic thing sprawled between her legs. There’s an indelible glaze to his to expression that makes him look so thoroughly fucked, and when he rests his chin on her stomach and looks up at her with soft, needy eyes, something inside her chest just melts.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Toph husks out with a laugh.

“Yeah, why didn’t we,” he murmurs back, still loopy, nosing the skin around her navel.

Toph strokes her fingers along the arrow inked on his head, pulling a quiet mewl from him. The arrow tattoos on his body are the same design, the same placement – just the wrong shade of blue. These lines are darker than the ones she sees in his memories.

Maybe the effervesent, illuminating blue that once marked Aang as an airbendering master doesn’t exist in this world.

“Can you skip your classes tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why?”

His answer is a trail of wet kisses up the flat stretch of her belly. “Because I want to keep doing this.”

“Really.” Toph plays off as nonchalant, even when her heart skips a beat. “You want to render us incapable of walking by the time we’re done?”

“Toph, I don’t think I’m able to walk now,” Aang chuckles, before looking up at her from beneath his lashes, coy. “But I still want you in my bed whether we’re having sex or not. I just want you.”

His want reverbrates in the apex of Toph’s thighs and she wishes she can be as open as he is. She wants him in her bed forever, but the words become stifled in her throat, never leaving her mouth. He smiles at her though, tender and adoring, like he knows what she’s trying to say.

She rolls them over, straddling his hips. Gratification seeps into her at the way his pupils dilate, at the way he takes her in breathlessly.

‘

He’s upset – so very, very upset – and she doesn’t know why.

Toph feels it two blocks away from his apartment and it spurs her to walk faster, to the point where she’s running.

After letting herself in, she finds Aang leaning over the kitchen counter, the stiff lines of his back obvious through his thin shirt. She leans her back against the counter and presses her elbow to the nimble fingers constricted around dark granite.

“What’s up, grumpy?”

Her soulmate breathes out noisily, his shoulders bunching forward like he’s trying to make himself much smaller than he is. He doesn’t turn to face her, doesn’t immediately trap her in his arms like he usually would after a long day apart. He leans against her though, heavy, part of him trying to disappear into the pale abyss of her skin.

“We weren’t married to each other,” Aang whispers, horrified. “I was married to someone else. A non-bender, I think. I don’t recognize her voice.”

And there’s really no point in getting angry with Aang or this mystery woman because the past is the past, but jealousy festers anyway, scratching at her bones. She tries to taper down it to keep him from feeling it, but he flinches, looking even more miserable than before.

She tries for apathy then: “So? It was in the past – a past we’re only barely starting to get details from.”

“But I was still seeing you. I had kids with this woman, but I was still sneaking around with you—”

“Okay, so I was a side chick. Whatever, that’s fine—”

“It’s not fine,” a muscle in his jaw jumps, “none of this was fine. I’m seeing this from your persepective, remember? You weren’t okay with this.”

“Why does it fucking matter?” Toph spits, a small part of her regretting it when Aang’s mouth pinches into a thin line. “Maybe we never got together. Maybe sex on the the side was our only option. Whatever the fuck we did in that lifetime, it’s got nothing to do with what we have in this one!”

(“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, gazing down at the newborn. “Did you decide on a name?”

“Suyin’s kind of pretty. Has a nice ring to it.”

Tightly swallows. “Toph, is she – is she mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman in bed mumbles. “It’s not your problem.”

“But—”

“I’m not repeating myself, Twinkletoes. And she doesn’t belong to anyone but me.”)

Then Aang grazes her side with feather-light hands, silently asking for permission. She’s still bristling in her skin, but he makes the frustration and shame go away with just a brush of his palms on her body.

She wants to stay mad at him, wants to stew in silence all by herself, but she physically can’t, not when he’s already made a home for himself in the space of her ribs.

Toph pulls him in with an incoherent grumble, binding her arms around his torso to anchor him back to earth because he feels like he’s going to float away. He shivers against her, mouthing soft apologies against the column of neck as he clings onto her. Even on her tiptoes, her head barely reaches his chin, but she leans on them anyway because she doesn’t want him breaking his neck trying to bury himself in hers.

“Maybe I leave my wife when our kids are older,” he says, his teeth scraping over her shoulder. “I leave her for you.”

“You really think that happened?”

“Yes,” comes Aang’s response, but even that sounds a little unsure. Like he desperately wants it to be true. The uncertainity makes him press into her until there’s no visible space left between them. “Why wouldn’t I do that for you? We’re soulmates. I don’t believe in any lifetime where you’re not always by my side.”

Toph rolls her eyes. “You’re such an embarassing idiot sometimes.”

Aang smiles, his tongue flicking against her jawline. Heat simmers at the pit of Toph’s stomach, rising languidly, and his hands are at the back of her thighs. “I need you,” he sighs, catching her mouth with his.

“I know, you dumb airhead.”

She quickly finds herself hoisted onto the counter before she’s tipping her head back, letting him unbutton her flannel and kiss his way down—

‘

“Don’t worry,” Katara says. “We’ll find you a teacher. There are plenty of amazing earthbenders out there.”

There’s a deep wrongness in him as he stares back at Gaoling. Like he’s making a mistake by just giving up and leaving—

“Not like her.”

After he climbs onto Appa with reluctance, he doesn’t immediately lift the reins. Sometimes, there are rewards to being patient, to sitting still and letting the winds carry their answers to you. When he listens to the currents around him, he catches a flurry of hurried footsteps headed in their direction.

Delicate hope grows in his chest.

“Toph!” Happiness etches itself onto his face, wide and open, when the small girl runs out of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad changed his mind. He said I was free to travel the world.”

It’s a bold-faced lie.

But when Toph smiles, something inside his own stomach flutters wildly—

‘

“Are you alright, miss?” a voice asks, waking her, his mouth lightly tracing the curve of her ear.

“Fuck off,” Toph mumbles, still face down on the table, in spite of her fingers reaching out to rest along the nape of his neck. The taste of coffee – the strong kind – lingers on her tongue. “M’ tired. Why’d you drink coffee? And a goddamn red eye at that.”

Aang tugs at her hair teasingly. “Because I almost fell asleep while driving over here to get you.”

“Ugh, you’re going to keep me up all night.”

“I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time,” Aang smirks, nuzzling his nose along her cheekbone. “Or, well, one specific thing actually—”

Toph snorts. “Dork.”

He snatches her up, fingers digging into her side as he drags her onto his lap. Peals of laughter escape her while he tickles her relentlessly, so much that the harder she laughs, the more she feels him eventually shaking with laughter too, amplifying the sensation. One of the campus librarians shushes them sharply and she feels Aang hiding his face into her throat to escape the blame.

“What’s that?” he inquiries out of nowhere then, reaching for something on the table—

“No snooping!” Toph hisses without any real heat, swatting his hand out of the way to shove the tiny book into her backpack.

It’s a flipbook that she’s still working on, showing Aang peacefully bending all four elements. She had originally wanted to illustrate him kicking Ozai’s ass, but she doubts he would like the violence of it, so she’d gone with this instead.

Aang perks up in excitement. “Is it for me? My birthday’s in a couple of weeks, you know.”

Rolls her eyes. “Just wait and find out, Twinkletoes.”

She stands up in an attempt to gather her things, but as soon as she does, the feeling of a thousand pins pricking at her legs washes over.

“Your legs are numb,” Aang glances over with both bemusement and sympathy, on the verge of discomfort himself. “Here, I’ll carry you.”

“Nah, let’s just wait—”

But Aang pulls her arms over his shoulders, picking Toph up until she’s literally hanging onto his back, before he grabs her backpack. She hates being picked up in any manner, but it’s a losing battle with a cheerfully persistant soulmate like him. She yanks on the lobes of his ears, but he just grins, hitching her body higher.

“Yip-yip,” Toph says.

“Do I look like a flying bison to you?”

“You’re right, that was a terrible comparison,” she replies. “Appa is obviously a hundred times better than you.”

Aang makes an affronted noise, but Toph rests her head on his shoulder blade and kisses the elegant line of his neck, placating him. The brisk air hits her face once he walks out of the library and Toph tucks her face harder into his skin.

“I had a dream that you were looking for someone to teach you earthbending,” she whispers, wistful and smug. “You wouldn’t settle for anyone but me. Said I was the best out of all of them.”

“There’s no one else like you,” Aang replies easily, thumbing nonsensical patterns under her thighs.

He’d said that in his past life as well.

“Hey, Aang?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think we ended up together.” Because the snippets of his memories where he’s an adult are a lot sadder, filled with such hurt and longing. “I think we might have crashed and burned.”

Aang breath falters in her ear and he grips her harder, refusing to lose her to their past failures, to whatever broke them.

“We’ll do better this time, T.”

‘

(And they do.)

‘ [end notes:

BSSU = Ba Sing Se University

To clarify, what's normal for soulmates in this universe - (1) soulmarks appear as soon as soulmates touch each other (2) the need to be touching - the limits of this can vary with every soulmate bond, it all just depends.

As you can see with Aang and Toph, they obviously have a lot more going on with the XD

I hope this wasn't too confusing with the way Toph was receiving Aang's memories. Anything in italics was her seeing a memory. If anything was in parenthesis, that meant that Toph experienced the memory before the present time. Let me know if the italicized text isn’t showing like it does on the ao3 link. Tumblr’s being shitty for some reason.

If this was all confusing anyway, go ahead and yell at me]

#taang #aang #toph #aang/toph #modern au #soulmate au #soulmates #reincarnation #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #taangweek #taang week 2020 #fanfics #teabag fics

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