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syeren · 4 months

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NEW YEAR, NEW ME.

His finger shakily tapped along his knee as he braced himself for the nth time. A call. A stupid. Fucking. Call. Geto gulped down a lump in his throat as he heard a voice on the other end.

“… Hello?”

“Is this… I mean— I’ve been trying to reach you, haven’t you received my calls?”

“Oh, no sorry. I think you have the wrong number.”

“I… See, yeah… Yeah, I should’ve judged by the voice.”

“No worries! I think I’ve seen your number floating around frequently during the past week, I didn’t pick up though. Genuinely, I thought it was another spam call—“

“Ah, I’m sorry for troubling you. I’ll end the call now, have a nice day.”

“You too—“

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A clammy hand dragged down his dehydrated skin, his long lashes poking out through the gaps left open by lazy fingers. A deep rumble from a sigh vibrated in his throat, then echoed around his humid studio apartment… Drenched in nauseating vanilla musk cologne, and thick smoke billowed from a half-lit cigarette. In the corner of his apartment was a Vinyl player, playing Chet Baker softly as he thought.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

He slowly got up from his hunched position against the wall, pushing some weight off of the surface to compensate the weakened muscles he had left. He had no courage or stamina to even reach the front door if anyone wanted to check up on him, perhaps he had been too optimistic about that mere thought.

He stumbled in his apartment, toppling over heaps of garbage and empty liquor bottles, a loud statement of his pain. As he neared his unkept bed, he plopped onto his flat, tear-stained mattress. The quiet rumble of traffic outside his apartment window was his alarm clock, while the occasional chatter from his next-door neighbours were his source of entertainment. Amongst those were the occasional pops of fireworks going off in the distance, ahh yes, the welcoming of the new year.

Another year, he thought, to wake up and go through his schedule on autopilot. It was rinse and repeat, at this point. His body clock already stopped working after countless nights of insomnia, and he spent that time thinking… Again. Another day, another year.

The record continued to play, aiding the descent into his brain once more. It had been a long time since he last seen you, heard your voice, felt you in his arms— Hell, the fact he couldn’t reach you anymore was already driving him insane. What drove you away? Perhaps it was his lack of understanding towards you, maybe it was the fact he stuck his nose into his own stuff and never had the light of day just to talk— Properly, that time. However, it may be the certain situation that he was burying himself into, the over-thinking. Did you get tired of it? Were you too exhausted to put up with it?

He wanted to understand. Those countless nights he spent just pondering over his own pessimism and confusion, it was enough for him already. He turned his dreary body around, planting his face against the pillow and shutting his eyes. He nestled into the illusion of comfort, but the true beauty of peace is long gone.

The intoxicating vanilla and musk clung to his bedsheets, doused in the saltiness of tears and a hint of fresh pine. He hadn’t taken a shower yet, a proper bath didn’t even pop into one of his hundreds of thoughts running in his brain until now; thus, he opted to submerge himself in his racks of cologne and perfume for the meantime. His eyes darted sideways, tilting his head to the darkness the night sky blanketed him with. Another sigh left his lips.

“… Did I not love them enough?” his voice broke through like a scratchy record, hoarse and unpleasant. A broken record of anxiety and negativity. “Did I love them too much?”

He laid there on top of his bed, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Sleep sounds good, real good. To simply release those relaxing chemicals into your brain, signalling it to shut down. He wished he could that to his thoughts all day but, he holds on to something he can’t achieve— The notion to meet you once more. As the time passed, he felt his body sinking deeper into his mattress and—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A groan bursted out as he lazily reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his phone and putting it to his ear. He knew that he would get another mouthful of false-positive comments from his buds, and he sucked in a breath once pressing ‘answer.’

“Satoru, I already—”

“Geto?”

The familiar chime sound, it was the type of bell that twinkles and flutters; much like a Furin in a soft Summer breeze. It wasn’t anything like the Church bell noise that Satoru’s voice gave off, resounding, rich, yet clanging to his ears. His eyes shot open as he clambered to sit up in his bed, crossing his legs as he tried to gather his scatterplot of thoughts.

“Hey,” he managed to croak out, albeit with a loud voice crack. “I didn’t… Expect you to call me.”

“Satoru told me I should check in with you, so that’s why,” your voice sounded like you were smiling through your words. He swore he could picture you smiling. “This is my new number, you can save it if you would like.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to disturb you, however.”

“No, no! You wouldn’t. Well, I just wanted to check in.”

“Okay, okay… No promises on being convinced,” he added, chuckling awkwardly as he cleared his throat into his fist.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna hang up now, okay? Stay safe, Geto.”

“Mhm, you too. Thanks— For checking in, I mean.”

“No worries, bye!”

“Goodbye.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He immediately threw his phone down to his side as cold sweat profusely beaded around his temples. Black, messy locks draped over his eyes, and his gaze shot down at the mattress beneath him. Slowly, he leaned back against the wall once more, staring at the phone that connected you and him together. Even if it were brief.

All the times he called you, wanted to talk to you, hear that voice… Yet he wussed out, only managing to blurt out a quick ‘thanks for checking in.’ He wanted to profess his adoration, his emotions he held deep within his heart but once he finally got the chance to tell you, it didn’t meet to his expectations. Strings of profanities left his lips, muttering out into the silence of his own home.

Just as the clock renewed itself on that plastic display, he too, decided for that change. The unfamiliarity of the numbers twinkled in his eyes, and surely this would be a sign of hope. To pick himself up and just start anew— Well, once he figures out how to fix up his living quarters, that is.

The distant popping and cheers echoed from his complex and outside, and once Geto looked over at the clock, it was 12:00 AM sharp. A painful chuckle left his lips as his head craned back to rest against the surface. A new year, huh? It was ironic, how cheerful and abundant the atmosphere was throughout the building and the city, yet here he was wallowing in nothing but the repetitive Chet Baker record he had on. He reached in his pocket, grabbing the same pack of Camel he had and popping a cigarette up. Pressing the stick between his lips and lighting the butt, he inhaled deeply and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. The Turkish blend scattered through the air, filling the room with hazy puffs.

Another day, another year. Maybe this one will treat him better.

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an; happy new year! :3 LOL i didn’t think i would make an angst for the new year, but i’ll infuse all my good energy into this post so it won’t affect ur upcoming blessings <3

#jjk #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto angst #jjk angst

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frozenjokes · 1 month

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CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (3/3)

this part ended up much darker than the first two, related to Grian’s mental state after the cut. He thinks and says things he does not mean or want, so please check the ao3 link for the content warnings.

Grian gave himself a few days to recover after his fight with HotGuy, too sore to do much else than sit at his laptop and send out job applications; something he should have been doing anyway, but looking for work with a criminal record was nothing short of demoralizing. So what if he had a history of violence- so did everyone in this damn town, only some people were better at running from the police.

At least Cub was always around to help, sending links for possible options and filling out applications at his side; honestly, Grian wouldn’t be able to accomplish half of what he did without Cub’s help. Even then, the process of writing and waiting was stressful, and Grian was never good under pressure. Anxiety made him restless and restlessness made him lash out, and he didn’t want to lash out, not at anyone who didn’t deserve it.

So he gathered his things as the sun set, comforted, at least for now, by the idea of release. Maybe he’d catch a petty thief in the act, or spot some asshole from an earlier time- oh what he would give to get his talons on Cub’s shitty manager, but that was off limits, especially now. Regardless, it would only create more work for Cub in the long run, and Grian wasn’t trying to cause him any more grief.

Cub was.. pretty down after the night with HotGuy. He hadn’t gone out once besides to work, and while he wasn’t visibly upset, he was distracted, and just a tad clingier. Cub needed a lot of downtime, and usually he spent that time alone, but in the past few days he lingered in the common area, and sometimes even Grian’s room if Grian hadn’t left it in a while. Grian never minded. It was nice to hang out like that, quiet, doing separate things, but doing them together. Though, it was much harder to squash the temptation of ‘Bother Cub Instead Of Working’ when Cub was right there.

Grian wouldn’t have it any other way. He just wished he could help Cub feel better.. Especially when it was at least partially his fault Cub was so down in the first place.

He didn’t know exactly what Cub and HotGuy had been texting about, but it was clear enough that Cub was pretty upset. Grian didn’t fully understand why; was it really such a big deal to fight, even if it was staged? Was it the being misled? Now, Grian didn’t want Cub to have anything to do with HotGuy, but this didn’t feel good either, especially when he had a part to play. If Cub knew it was Grian behind the mask, would he be just as upset that Grian had gone through that much effort just to try and force a rift between them? Well, in fairness, Cub would definitely be more concerned with Grian having a supervillain alter ego, but that wasn’t- it didn’t matter.

Still, he felt guilty.

It was guilt that stopped Grian at the front door when Cub called his name. Guilt, that kept him home to watch a movie when Cub asked instead of going out like he desperately wanted to. And the next night, when Cub asked to play board games, and the next, when Cub told him simply he just didn’t want to be alone.

But the next night, over a week after the incident with HotGuy, Grian was too restless, too anxious, too stressed. He needed to leave, he needed to fly, he needed to hit something so he could just be normal again. So when Cub asked him to stay, Grian said no.

“Please.”

Grian hadn’t expected ‘please.’ He didn’t like ‘please.’ He didn’t like the way Cub said it at all. “I’m just going for a fly. We can play cards when I’m back.”

“Can’t you fly during the day? Doesn’t the sun feel better?” There was something too desperate about Cub’s tone, like his composure was just crumbling away. It was wrong. Grian felt his stomach turn.

“I like the cold. I like the moon. And it’s too busy during the day, I don’t have to pay as much attention in the dark.”

Cub wasn’t satisfied. “Grian, I want you to stay. I’m asking you to stay.”

“I-I know-“ Grian felt his own composure begin the crumble, his knees beginning to feel weak, “I just have to go, Cub. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“You don’t have to.” Cub met his eyes, and saw directly through him. Grian could have thrown up.

“I need to,” he insisted, almost shrilly, but Cub did not budge, he didn’t understand.

And all at once, everything came crashing down. He was so stupid. He- Grian- This wasn’t about HotGuy at all! Cub didn’t care about HotGuy- they were barely even friends, and honestly, Cub had never been all that romantically inclined- Maybe he’d been angry with the hero, but that wasn’t why Cub had been staying home-

Cub saw the spiral behind Grian’s eyes, and the change was instant.

“Grian, come here, please. This isn’t- we can figure this out. I’m not angry with you, I promise I’m not angry. We’re going to figure this out.” Cub took a step forward, arms raised. Grian’s breathing hitched as he took a step back. He felt his hand tighten around the door knob. He saw Cub’s eyes flick to the spot, then freeze. “Don’t run.”

Grian was out the door faster than Cub could lunge to reach him, and even without wings, Grian was in far better shape, far faster, and they both knew it. Grian beat his wings violently, drowning out the sound of Cub’s voice calling his name. He needed to go. He needed to be away. He needed to run. He didn’t want to hear himself think.

…

High above the dappled city lights, the first bar with music loud enough to hear from the sky called his name. The lights were garish and red, the people loud and grating, and it was everything he needed to stop thinking forever. Maybe he could get a guy to buy him a drink, and really make some bad decisions. Panic heightened his delusion. He wanted to black out. Didn’t want to remember where he was when he woke up, or anything about the night before. He wanted to wake up in the woods miles away from town. He wanted to wake up in a stranger’s bed. He’d never had sex before. He hoped it would hurt.

Something like mania clouded his vision as he stumbled into the bar, or maybe it was the lights. It was crowded, so crowded, and people were bumping his arms and his wings as they danced and again he was sure he would vomit over the sensations. He needed more.

Grian reached half-blind for the first man he saw, grasping for contact he viscerally didn’t want. The hand his talons fell across was big, peppered with scars and adorned with dusty gray rings- the skin didn’t quite feel right, though the person attached to the arm turned when he was touched, distracting Grian with his large green eyes.

“Dance with me?” Grian heard himself say, and the man grinned, wide enough to swallow him whole.

“I’d love to!” He took Grian’s other hand, pulling him closer, and Grian pushed in, whether to avoid contact from others or drown himself in the stimulation of one man instead, he had no idea. The crowd shifted around them as they danced, loud and careless and sharp, everything was so sharp and they were touching his wings, they were touching his wings and he needed them to stop. He held the hands of the man he was with like a vice. His grip must have hurt, his claws surely, but his partner never reacted and never let go. Grian felt his mouth hang open as the crowd enveloped them both, choking on the proximity. Someone stumbled against his back and Grian wanted to die. He couldn’t get enough air. He couldn’t breathe.

Someone was speaking, but Grian couldn’t hear them over the music. Maybe he wasn’t listening at all. He had to keep dancing. The current song switched over to something new, and Grian wretched as the base shook his entire body. He was going to die. He felt himself being pulled and had no choice but to follow. People were talking. Someone was talking to him.

He didn’t remember leaving the crowd, but he must have, because he was sitting on a stool at the bar, and he could breathe again. He was holding something, something cold, and was disappointed to discover it was water. Fuck, he was thirsty. He drank the entire thing.

“Shots. I want shots,” someone said, and that someone turned out to be himself. “Whiskey. Or tequila. Yes, tequila.”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” someone annoying said, and the annoying voice belonged to a person with a very broken nose, whoa, wild, and hey this was the bad hands guy!

“I’m having a bad day. You should buy me tequila shots.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve had enough.”

“I haven’t had anything!”

“Then you’re either on hard drugs, or something is very wrong.”

“I’m sober!” Grian snapped, “And nothing’s wrong with me- nothing’s- you’re making this very hard on me, so if you won’t buy me something to drink, I’m going to go back to dancing.”

“Well, you’re shaking like a leaf and burst into tears while we were with the crowd, so I’m kinda thinking you’re not doing so hot. Honestly, I was surprised to even see an avian in a place like this- I was pretty sure you guys liked your personal space. Everyone’s different, I know, but still.”

Ah. That’s why he felt so wet. Hm. Bad Hands Man seemed to think for a moment, before waving the bartender over, which pleased Grian until he asked for another water.

“What’s your name, stranger?”

Grian considered not answering out of spite, but at the same time, he was still thirsty, and being annoying and having bad skin wasn’t a crime. “Grian. I’ve come up with my own name for you, but it’s not nice.”

Bad Hands Man snorted, the smile returning sharp on his face, “You can’t just say that and not tell me. Maybe I’ll like it.”

“Bad Hands. Because I hate touching you.” Bad Hands Man blinked a few times in rapid succession, which Grian found to be very satisfying, throwing him a smirk of his own before going to sip at his water.

“You know, I kind of want to be offended for several reasons, but I also kind of respect you for that. I don’t want to be called Bad Hands though, so give me a second to come up with something else.”

“Well I call you Bad Hands Man, not Bad Hands but- hey, what are you doing?” Grian hopped off his stool, poking his head over Bad Hands Man’s shoulder where he was scrolling on his phone through- baby names? “What- Do you not have a name?”

“Oh, I’ve got one, but you could be fae. I won’t risk it, no, no. Strangers get fake names. Occasionally, if I decide I like you enough, you’ll get my other fake name for good friends only.”

“What? When do I get to know your real name?”

“Hm. Suspicious.”

“I’m not suspicious! We live dead in the middle of the worst city in the world- there’s hardly a tree for miles! There are no fae here!”

“That sounds like something a faerie would say,” Bad Hands Man trilled, then laughed at Grian’s reddening face, “I’m joking, I’m joking. I’m not going to tell you my name though.”

“But I want to know! I- oh, is this a superhero thing? Are you just trying to cover yourself? Or are you one of the villains, and really trying to hide it.”

But Bad Hand Man’s lip curled at the mention of superheroes, and Grian had never respected someone so instantly in his entire life, “No. I wouldn’t be caught dead in all that riff-raff. The only reason I’m here is because, as you said, this city is cold and dead and devoid of all things green. They won’t catch me here.”

Grian stared for a moment, processing. “Whoa. You’re kinda nuts, aren’t you?”

“The same people that call me crazy give their names freely when strangers ask.”

“So.. everyone?”

“My point stands.”

“You know, I’m not sure if it does.”

“Well, do you want to help me pick a name? I’m thinking about something with an ‘M,’ take a look,” Bad Hands Man showed Grian his phone, and Grian very much did want to do that, so he paid close attention while Bad Hands Man scrolled slowly.

“Micah. I’ll call you Micah.”

Micah looked pleased, nodding in his approval. “Is there a reason? I’m just curious, I like to know why people pick the names they do.”

“My-cah!”

“Mycah!”

“My-cah!”

Micah broke the back and forth, laughing, though Grian could have gone for hours, “So what’s the reason then?”

“I like the way it sounds.”

“Oh! Guess I could have figured that out on my own, couldn’t I?” Micah chuckled, and Grian Looked at him for what felt like the first time. He was handsome, really, in most senses of the word. His hair was relatively short and pulled back into what was quite frankly, a silly little ponytail. He had glasses too, but even despite the harsh light in his eyes, Grian was pretty sure they didn’t have lenses. His outfit was fun, his dark top cropped to an almost ridiculous degree, while his pants were red like his glasses, floral patterned, and little too short on him, but cute. Grian cringed inwardly at what he must be looking like right now; a total mess certainly, feathers probably all puffed up and hair wind-blown to hell. Well! If Micah hadn’t abandoned ship already, Grian might still have a chance here.

“I!” Grian began, holding himself a little higher, “Think you’re cute.” He preened, pleased with his grand show of affection, more so when he opened an eye and saw Micah smiling.

“Thanks. This is a new outfit, a little different from what I’m used to, but I kinda like it. Usually I show a bit more chest and less stomach, so this is honestly a bit weird for me. Good though. I’m always looking for a little change.”

“Well I definitely wouldn’t say you’re hiding too much when it comes to the chest.”

“You think it’s too much? Maybe it doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but that doesn’t bother me.”

“No! Not too much at all! I like it! I like you.”

“I’m glad,” Micah looked away, the smile falling just slightly. With some distress, Grian wondered what he was doing wrong. This was how this was supposed to work, wasn’t it? Was he forgetting something? A bead of mangled frustration crept through, a reminder of the pain, the fear, of the desperate need to run. He needed this. He needed this to work.

“I want to go home with you,” Grian was painfully aware of how breathless he sounded, a result of his hiking heart rate.

“Grian..” Micah began, but Grian couldn’t handle the gentle rejection on his tone, he needed to be better, more desirable-

“You could have your way with me. You could do whatever you want.” Pathetically, he felt like crying. He needed this so badly and he was losing, he just couldn’t stop losing.

“Grian, no. Stop this.” Micah was firm, and Grian felt like shattering.

“Please.”

“You’re not well. Where do you live? We could walk, or I could call you a taxi. You need to go home, okay? This place isn’t good for you. Is there anyone I could call? Anyone who could pick you up?”

“No!” The sound ripped out of his throat with a wretched sob, “I have nowhere to go. I have no money- I have nowhere to go.” Just like that, everything was wrong again, everything was awful. Why did this have to be so hard? What would it take for him to just be normal, to stop being so hopelessly angry all of the time?

“Hey, Grian, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Let’s go outside, alright? Let’s go outside.

“It’s not okay-“

“Breathe with me. Breathe. Can I take you outside? Can I touch you?”

“Don’t- not my hands.”

“Can I touch your sweater?

“Touch-“ Grian pulled in a strangled breath, but he just couldn’t keep the air in, “Yes- The sweater.”

“The sweater’s okay?”

“Yes.”

Grian was painfully aware of his hands, of his wings, of his skin, as Micah guided him along, cringing at the attention Micah brought when he loudly cleared the way, but also grateful for the lack of accidental brushes against his feathers. He didn’t think he could take it. He didn’t think he could survive.

The nighttime air was a massive relief, and Grian managed to take his first real breath through heaving lungs. There was a bench right outside, and Grian all but collapsed onto it, burying his head in his hands and curling inward. It was too much. It was just too much.

He didn’t look up when Micah spoke.

“My place isn’t far from here. I have a spare bedroom, and the door locks from the inside. You could use it, if you want, for however long you need. My work is unpredictable, and I can’t promise I'll be home much, but maybe that’s better for you. There’s not much to eat there right now but- I can grab groceries tomorrow morning. You don’t need to tell me anything, or pay me- it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you on the streets tonight, okay?

Grian didn’t know what to do with that. He barely processed any of it.

“I promise you’re going to be okay. You’ll be safe.”

He didn’t like that promise. No one could know what was going to happen to him. What might become of him. But damn if Grian didn’t want to believe it. To collapse and curl up and feel a little less like everything was falling apart.

“Okay,” he managed, his voice little more than a whimper, “I’ll go.”

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #hotguy #cuteguy #cubfan135 #cubfan #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #desert duo #tagging hermitshipping to be consistent but #not shipping in this chapter #hermitshipping

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positivevibesonlyyy · 1 year

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Kylian Mbappe - The World At Our Feet

Mbappe x fem reader (fluff)

Wanted to do a one shot of Kylian dating a female French artist... and I really love the phrase a commentator (I think it was Peter Drury) used to describe Kylian as the ‘boy with the world at his feet’, so I used that as inspiration for this one shot. I wrote this quickly on the train yesterday so it’s a bit rushed but please let me know what you think or if you want more. Enjoy!!

You closed your eyes. The plane was about to take off, you had fastened your seatbelt and clutched your pillow, bracing yourself for the sudden acceleration. The feeling of taking off was one of your favourite in the world - it was exhilarating, feeling the plane leave the ground. You opened your eyes once you were in the air, looking outside your window at the clouds. You were exhausted, the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of flights and shows and press. Your career as an artist had taken off in the past year, one single after the other topping the charts. It was so surreal, the past few months felt like a fever dream. Music had been your life since you were a child. Singing and writing songs made you feel alive in a way that nothing else did. For so long, singing and composing and writing music was all you did, all that mattered, developing and experimenting with notes, genres, styles and range. You loved music, but it had been a massive, years long struggle. You spent nearly a decade scrapping by with crappy gigs, going through one record label rejection after another, constant series of missed opportunities..

All that seems so far away now. You had just finished a fully booked out tour through Europe and nothing could have prepared you for what life would be like as a burgeoning pop star. There was a world of difference between your life now and just a few months ago. The fame and success came so suddenly, you didn’t have any time to process any of it. You were swept in a tidal wave of change and still unsure how to handle your new life, your public persona, your exponential growth in followers and fans, the media scrutiny, the lack of privacy, the chaotic schedule, the expectations. Being a public figure had so many demands you failed to anticipate.

When you spoke to Kylian about this a few months ago, he smiled sympathetically.

“I mean this has been my dream for so long, and it’s here and it’s happening and I just wish I didn’t feel so overwhelmed, I wish I could enjoy it more.”

He hummed in response, playing with your hair. “I know chéri. But this is part of the deal. Its a package, isn’t it? This the price and I think it’s a small one. You’re living your dream. What could be better than that? How many people can say that?”

You smiled at him, feeling suddenly envious.

“You can.”

“Oui, I can and I wouldn’t change a thing.” He said earnestly.

You admired how easy it all seemed to be for him. How naturally he managed the attention, how much he loved it, how he thrived in it, how he was driven and motivated by the pressure, instead of overwhelmed by it, how happily he took on challenges. How cheerful and determined he remained in the face of it all. He had always seemed carefree and almost fearless, but until recently you couldn’t fully grasp how remarkable this was.

“I’m lucky I know.” You tell him. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is everything I wanted and more.”

You two were lying in bed, the night before you left for tour. You head was on his chest, his arm around you. His nose buried in your hair. You felt him smile cheekily against your head and he whispered, “Besides, if all this hadn’t happened, we would never have met and that would have been a shame.”

You chuckled, “That’s true.”

Being with him unlocked a layer of joy and fulfilment in your life that you didn’t know was possible. It had only been a few months, but when you met, it felt like this was it. You both were drawn to each other, wanted to speak to and talk about each other all the time in a way that was so out of proportion with what was appropriate at that stage. You suddenly wanted his take on every single thing in your life, weighty and inconsequential, A too quick attachment brewed, and you thought that was was the tell-tale sign. One night after a stellar PSG match, he came to watch you perform. You saw him in the crowd and locked eyes and neither one of you looked away for the rest of the night. It felt like you were only singing to him, as if the thousands of other people there had just faded into the distance. He clapped and cheered ferociously as you sang, yelling for the crowd to make more noise. When you woke up together the next morning, you curled into him like a baby seal climbing on a sunlit rock. The daylight came in through the shutters and you looked at him asleep in the morning glow and thought that this was the only thing you wanted to do forever.

You were heading back to Paris now, your home and the best city in the world. Kylian had a rare set of holidays, and you had a few days relatively free. You couldn’t wait to see him, it had been months. Your heart literally ached with longing. When the plane finally landed on the tarmac, your were jittery with excitement. You said thank you to the flight crew, to your manager, to the staff that you worked with before promptly getting in a car and heading towards Kylian’s place. It didn’t matter that you had spent something like 18 hours flying and desperately needed a shower. You were going to get to see him. So much had happened in the last few days that you had missed. Kylian was now the captain of the French team. The youngest ever French football captain. You were so happy for him, almost swelling with pride. You had congratulated him over the phone, both of you teary. You couldn’t wait to see him to do it in person too.

You were finally inside his building, you swung the door open and called out “Bonjouuuuurr!! Ky?” You heard his footsteps immediately.

Suddenly he was racing towards you at lightening speed that would have otherwise frightened you. He lifted you off the ground and you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. “Ahhhhhhh, Y/N I’m so happy you’re here” he said, “I missed you.”

You clung to him, “I missed you too” you said before pressing your lips against his. It was a slow, gentle kiss, full of deep, mutual yearning. You were both breathing heavily when you pulled apart, “How are you…Captain? ” You asked, before pressing another kiss to his jaw.

He grinned, “happy now that you’re here.”

You gripped your waist and your hands were on his shoulders, you rested your forehead against his. “Congratulations bébé. I’m so… so proud of you” You say sincerely.

“Merci” he whispers, a little shyly.

“How are you? How was the flight, and the last few nights of tour?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the living room.

You followed him. “Incredible…Just unbelievable, you know? Like it just felt so unreal, like my life was a movie. It was a lot though. I am exhausted, it was really intense and I missed Paris and my family, and you.”

You hugged him again, needing contact. He was warm and gentle and smelt wonderfully familiar. He rubbed your back and kissed you again.

“I’m glad it went well, and I knew it would. You’re the most talented singer in the world. You amaze me every time I see you perform.”

“Ahh, stop…” you mutter, shyly.

“No, no, seriously, you’re absolutely enchanting to watch on stage.”

“You don’t have to say that”, you blushed, still terrible at accepting compliments.

“I wouldn’t if it weren’t true.” He said seriously, gently massaging your shoulders.

“But I’m glad you’re home now. I’ve been wanting to celebrate everything with you so badly.”

A few hours later, you were both sat on the roof of Kylian’s apartment, after having emptied a bottle of wine. Cuddled up on one seat, with a large shared blanket and each others bodies for warmth, you were watching the city lights. You spent hours talking about what had happened in the last few months you were away. You told him of all the strange, funny, embarrassing moments you had on tour, all the weird fan encounters, all the highlights. Everything you wished he could’ve been there for. He told you about his time at PSG, how he felt he was improving, how proud he was of being the all time goal scorer for the club, how it made him feel worthy of the clubs investment in him, how excited but nervous he was about serving as captain for France, how the loss of the World Cup final still hurt.

You caressed the back of his head as you both waited for midnight so that the Eiffel Tower would start to glimmer, at it always did when the clock hit 12.

“I’m so happy right now.” You said quietly, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

“Me too.” He replied. “We have the world at our feet, mon amour.”

______

#kylian mbappe #kylian fanfic #kylian x you #kylian imagines #mbappe #mbappe fluff #mbappe fanfic #mbappe x reader #mbappe x you #mbappe one shot #mbappe imagine #mbappé #mbappe smut #mbappe angst #football #football fanfic #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe fanfic

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write4tomorrow · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5: The Best Lies

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x CIA Agent!Reader

Summary: During the training with Maverick for the mission, the pilots must also complete “hostile condition” training with a CIA interrogator (reader). Hangman thinks this type of training is a waste of time until the reader exposes him. Enemies to Lovers.

Genre: Adventure / Fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Epilogue (Complete)

You swirled your drink and leaned back in your seat. It had been a difficult few weeks.

The pilots that took your training seriously were doing well, but you knew that Maverick’s training was what mattered. The flying had taken it’s toll on several of the pilots and everyone was stressed about leaving for the aircraft carrier tomorrow. Tonight, you decided to leave the base early and went to The Hard Deck by yourself. Your beer tasted bitter in your mouth and you wondered if it would be easier or harder if you spent the night in the company of the Top Gun pilots.

Despite your best efforts and your admittedly cold demeanor, you had become too close to all of the pilots. Rooster and Phoenix were probably your closest friends in the world, but you knew that they were the best pilots. You wouldn’t be surprised if Maverick chose them as part of the assault team. But even the other pilots had become your friends. Bob was the best karaoke partner; Fanboy always knew the punchline to the joke before you told it; Coyote never said no to a game of cards; Harvard and Yale taught you how to actually play Dogfight Football; and Hangman…

You two didn’t speak for almost a week. Almost.

A week ago today you beat him in the interrogation game at The Hard Deck. Some of the pilots were still poking fun at his loss. You were glad to win the interrogation game, but you hadn’t heard his taunting voice in days. He was avoiding you like oil on water. At first you didn’t mind, but as you continued to listen to the Dogfights over the radio, you kept an ear out for his voice specifically. And as you did, you began to notice little things.

The first time you noticed something was during a dogfight with Harvard, Yale, and Hangman. Predictably, Hangman left to chase down Maverick. But as he talked over the headset, you heard him almost methodically whispering lyrics. You had to really listen, but they were the lyrics to your favorite song. Thankfully you were alone, listening to the dogfight over a personal radio from the comfort of your room, but you hummed along to the melody. Rooster had played it the night before at The Hard Deck and you practically screamed the lyrics in the middle of the bar. Did Hangman hear that? If he was there, you didn’t notice him.

The fourth time you noticed something strange was when Hangman, in the middle of a dogfight with Maverick, asked, “Hey Mav, why’d you never get married?”

“Sometimes I wish I did,” Maverick answered, “is this a new tactic? Try to distract me over the headset?”

“Was there ever a girl you could see yourself with?” Hangman pushed.

“Hangman, why are you asking?” Maverick asked after a moment.

“I’ve just been thinking about it…” was all Hangman said.

The most recent time you noticed something was going on with Hangman happened when he tried to fly through the simulated valley for the first time. You were in the rec room with most of the other pilots, trying not to be impressed by Hangman’s flying. He was staying below the 100 foot hardeck and swerved left and right to avoid being targeted by the surface to air missiles. This was the fourth time he had flown this track. He was even beating his personal record while avoiding the SAM’s.

Coyote and Fanboy were having trouble keeping up.

“Damn, Hangman, what’s got you flying so fast?” Fanboy’s strained voice came over the radio.

“I’ve got a lot to lose,” Hangman answered. You rolled your eyes and heard Coyote give a small chuckle.

“The ego,” you mouthed to Rooster.

“Nothing can compare to a man in love,” Coyote said over the headset. Hangman just scoffed but you froze where you were standing. Rooster turned to you then and he looked as confused as you felt. Rooster raised his hands and shrugged, he didn’t know what it was about either. But you were eerily aware of the other pilots in the rec room with you. All of you had been listening to the radio but now a few people’s attention shifted towards you.

But none of that compared to the fight you had with Hangman just hours ago. You were playing a game of cards with Coyote in the rec room. There were some other pilots around, but it was a game of poker and only you and Coyote were left in the game. Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob were looking over your shoulder while Payback was hovering next to Coyote.

“Hey, Coyote,” you said slowly, “What was up with Hangman the other day?”

“What do you mean?” Coyote said. He was looking at you over the top of his cards. You knew you shouldn’t pry, but the pilots were leaving for the mission tomorrow. This may be your last chance to find out. Luckily, Phoenix knew where this conversation was going.

“You said Hangman was in love,” Phoenix answered. You watched Coyote’s eyes dart back towards his playing cards. Payback turned a nervous expression toward Coyote.

“It’s someone we know,” you whispered. After watching these pilots for weeks, you knew their ticks and tells. Coyote was trying to hide something from you and Payback knew what it was.

“Look, it’s probably not even that serious,” Payback said, trying to cover for Coyote.

“What do you know?” Rooster asked. You leaned forward in your chair, watching the two pilots in front of you. Neither of them spoke. Knowing the power of silence, you let the quietness become louder.

“Hey, y/n,” Bob muttered from behind you. Remaining silent, you chose to ignore him. You heard Phoenix shush him until…

“y/n,” Phoenix said. You heard something hesitant in her voice. You let out a breath and turned around to face Bob and Phoenix. But they weren’t looking at you. They turned toward the doorway of the rec room and you were surprised to see that even Rooster was looking that way. And when you realized why, you understood Phoenix's tone.

“Let’s talk in my office,” Cyclone said. He was standing in the doorway, awkwardly nodding at the other top gun pilots in the room. You nodded and tossed your cards down on the table and Coyote groaned.

“I should have called your bluff, Ice Queen,” he said with a smile. “I would have won.” You laughed with him and gave Bob, Phoenix, and Rooster a comforting look.

“See if you can find out anything else about Hangman,” you instructed. They all nodded and you followed your father out of the rec room.

The meeting with your dad was short. He asked how you were doing, how the pilots were, what you thought of the mission tomorrow, and if there was anyone you would recommend to sit out of the mission.

“Halo might be a weak link,” you confessed, “but everyone else - at least everyone that has been attending my classes - seems to be eligible for the mission.” Your dad nodded at your words.

“You’re still planning on going with us to the aircraft carrier tomorrow?” Your father leveled you with a look. You only nodded. There was something else going on and you could tell that your father wasn’t telling you something.

“It may not be a good idea,” Cyclone finally said. You felt your eyebrows pull together but patiently waited for an explanation. Cyclone ran a hand over his hair and continued: “I’ve noticed that you… distract some of the pilots. You’re attached to them. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“Are you kidding,” you laughed, “they call me Ice Queen. I don’t think I’m wearing anything on my sleeve.”

“You care about them,” Cyclone said. He let a small smile creep over his face as he looked at you. “You get it from your mother, you know.”

“I’m going to the aircraft carrier tomorrow and I plan on being in that control room during the mission,” you said but then added, “sir.” Your father locked eyes with you for a moment and he eventually nodded. He looked out the window and sighed. The sun was still above the horizon but it was quickly setting.

“I think you distract the pilots but you also motivate them. Mav agrees. It’s no secret the effect you have on them. Sometimes Mav can’t get through to them but you can. The way you talk to Pheonix and Bob, your relationship with Rooster, Coyote, Hangman-”

“Hangman?” You interrupted. Your father only raised one eyebrow in your direction. There was something about the look coming from your father that made your neck feel warm. Were you blushing?

“We’re leaving the base at 0600 tomorrow. Be ready.” Cyclone said, dismissing you. Gladly, you left his office and made your way to the rec room. But something was wrong. There were shouts coming from the rec room and you knew those voices.

You began running down the hall and could tell that Rooster was arguing with someone. It took a lot to get Rooster to that level of rage and you knew that it couldn’t be good. Where were Pheonix? Bob? What happened?

“It’s none of your business what I think of y/n or who I talk to about her.”

You stopped in your tracks. You were only a few steps from the doorway and you knew that voice too well. Hangman. Something about hearing him speak in person for the first time in a week startled you. It made you take a step toward the door but quickly stopped as Hangman spoke again.

“This is none of your business,” he continued. Before you could do anything, he walked out of the room and into the hall. He froze as he looked up to find you. Rooster, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix hurried out but Hangman didn’t look away from your face. Instead, he let his cocky facade slide into place.

“We’ll if it isn’t the Ice Queen herself.” Hangman slid his hands into his pockets as you walked toward him. Your steps were quick, decisive. No one spoke as you planted yourself less than a foot away from Hangman, glaring up at him.

“Are you going to break your vow of silence, sweetheart?” Hangman taunted. You mentally kicked yourself, wondering how you could ever miss his voice.

“Lieutenant, what is your problem?” You set your jaw and stared at him. A shadow fell over his face as he leaned in. His breath danced across your face.

“You,” he answered. He pushed past you and his footsteps echoed in the long hallway. You were left looking at your friends’ faces. Coyote gave you an apologetic look before he left to catch up with Hangman.

“He requested that you stay here at Top Gun tomorrow rather than join Cyclone, Warlock and Holdo in the command room.” Phoenix said. You blinked a few times. So that was why your father had wanted to talk to you. But if Hangman didn’t want you there…

“Where are you going?” Rooster asked as you began walking away. You weren’t sure where you were going but your body pushed you to move in the opposite direction of Hangman. Tears pricked your eyes and your breath was coming in small bursts. Rooster and Bob made an attempt to follow you, but Phoenix held them back.

You were so distraught that you walked most of the way to The Hard Deck before you even knew what you were doing. By a stroke of luck, Penny had found you walking in that direction. She was driving into work and knew something was wrong by the look on your face. Without asking any questions, Penny chauffeured you the rest of the way and poured a drink for you when you arrived. You sat in a small corner, watching the other patrons in the bar slowly trickle in as the night continued. The beer in your hand had become room temperature, but you didn’t care as it swirled around in the glass.

After an hour or so of swirling your drink, a couple of bodies appeared at your table. Wordlessly, a few of the Top Gun pilots took a seat, giving you warm smiles. Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, even Payback and Fanboy pulled up chairs. You didn’t have to fake your joy when you looked at each of them.

“If every single one of you doesn’t make it back from the mission tomorrow,” your voice broke as you spoke, “I’ll kill all of you.”

The pilots around you laughed and began doing their best to cheer you up. Unknown to you, Hangman watched from across the room.

Hangman and Coyote looked on as their friends slowly cheered you up at the opposite end of the bar. Hangman could tell you had been crying and something in his chest ached when he saw your face. He understood why Coyote had forced him to come.

“Don’t do this to her,” Coyote said in a low voice, “don’t do this to yourself, man.” Hangman’s eyes were glued to you but he nodded at Coyote’s words.

Hangman’s mouth went dry as Rooster took your hand and pulled you up from the table. The pilots cheered as your face split into a genuine grin. You and Rooster began dancing to whatever the jukebox was playing. Arms flailing, head shaking, and lips grinning, you looked like the cunning girl he had beat at pool so many weeks ago.

“Just look at yourself, Hangman,” Coyote chided. Hangman turned his attention to his friend and was surprised to find himself smiling. Hangman gave his friend a good natured shove and walked toward you.

“Ice Queen!” Hangman bellowed. Almost every head in the bar turned his way, including yours. The smile on your face slipped and Rooster took a small step in front of you. That didn’t stop Hangman from giving you an award winning smile.

“I have a bone to pick with you.” Hangman stopped just a few feet in front of you. Being this close meant that he could see how your eyes were still a little puffy from earlier tears. Hangman cursed himself but carried on.

“Please,” he held out his hand toward you. It took great effort, but he let his face soften. He tried to lay himself bare in front of you with just a look. And as he watched your face, he knew you saw something on his own. Of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t skeptical. You placed your hand in his, but didn’t budge. Instead, your eyes narrowed, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Convince me to listen,” was all you said. Hangman rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t you just make this easy, y/n?” Hangman closed his hand around yours and pulled hard enough to make you stumble forward. Using your momentum, Hangman threw you over his shoulder and turned to leave. He saw Rooster, as well as a handful of other pilots, move to defend you, but Coyote stepped in their path. Hangman didn’t know what his friend said to the others, but they didn’t follow him as he carried you out of the bar. Rooster didn’t even make an attempt to follow you outside.

“Hangman! Hey, Lieutenant! Lieutenant Seresin. Stop!” You were hitting Hangman’s back which only made him tighten his grip around your legs. He didn’t stop until he stood on the dark beach, a few meters away from The Hard Deck.

“Lieutenant, put me down-” you huffed, still struggling.

“Say my name,” Hangman said in a low voice. He felt you still in his arms. He couldn’t see your face but he knew you understood what he wanted. After a moment of silence from you, Hangman gave your ass a hard flick. You began to swear.

“C’mon,” Hangman said, “just let me hear you say my name and I’ll put you down.”

“Jake Seresin, put me down now,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, ma’am.” Gently, he allowed you to slide off of his shoulder. He kept a grip on you until he was sure you had found your footing in the sand. He watched you then, your face lit by the distant lights from the bar. You looked furious.

“Look, I know-” Hangman didn’t get a chance to finish. With all your might, you punched Hangman’s gut. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Still, he was a little satisfied to see you shake out your fist.

“Are you kidding,” you wheezed, clutching your hand, “Why is your stomach so… so hard?”

“No one has ever complained about how hard I am,” Hangman said with a pained laugh. You moved to punch him again, but Hangman had learned his lesson. He caught your fist as it sailed through open air. You pulled back but Hangman didn’t let go of your wrist. Instead, your breath caught as Hangman pulled your hand to his chest and he began to gently massage your palm and knuckles.

“Did you hurt your hand?” Hangman asked with a fake pout.

“What do you want, Lieutenant?” You glared up at the pilot.

“I want to talk to you. Can I do that? Will you just listen, for once?” Hangman’s voice sounded frustrated but void of it’s usual bravado. You watched his face for a moment, wondering where this was going. You wanted to release your frustration. You wanted to punch him again. It would hurt, but it felt good to let your feelings out like that.

The way Hangman was holding your hand also felt good.

“As long as you don’t stop doing that,” you finally answered.

“Yes ma’am,” Hangman grinned.

“And if this is going to be a long conversation, I’d rather sit.” You quickly added. Hangman nodded and pulled you down into the chilly sand. You sat across from him and you had to lean forward for Hangman to keep massaging your palm. Your legs were crossed and so were his. Your knees were resting against his crossed legs.

It wasn’t a comfortable way to sit and he noticed. Wordlessly, Hangman moved closer. He lifted his legs and placed them on either side of you so that they rested over your folded legs and his feet stuck out behind you. He silently raised an eyebrow asking if it was okay. You gave him a little nod.

“You distract me-” Hangman began.

“So you had to go tell my dad?” You interrupted.

“You said you’d listen.” Hangman glared. You apologized and motioned with your free hand for him to continue.

“I think I hate you,” Hangman said, but he continued to speak before you could interrupt again, “You - and I cannot stress this enough - make my head hurt. Like the worst headache I've ever had. You’re just always… Something about you and that smart mouth of yours brings out the worst in me and it makes me want to be better. I don’t know what it is, Ice Queen, but you make me grind my teeth and for the first time in my life, when I’m up there, all I can think about is coming back down. I want to come find you in the rec room playing cards with Coyote and I want to go to The Hard Deck and see you singing with Rooster and Phoenix. I want to be the one dancing with you and I want to show you that I can spin you around better than anyone else in the whole bar. And even when I’m up in the air, I just… I know you’re listening and want to talk to you. And I hate it, y/n.”

You didn’t know when it happened, but at some point Hangman stopped massaging your hand. You sat, facing the arrogant pilot, one of your hands was held in both of his while your other hand lazily rested on his thigh.

“Oh, now you’re silent?” Hangman let out a nervous laugh. “I think you’re clever and I also think that makes you dangerous. And sometimes I want to take you down a notch because I know you can take me down.” Hangman seemed to be looking everywhere but your face. He kept your hand close to his chest and you tried to find something to say.

“But all I really want is your attention,” Hangman glanced up at you, meeting your gaze. “and I hate you for ignoring me. I hate you for making me watch Rooster sing with you. I hate you because you like hanging out with Phoenix and Coyote and even Bob more than you like seeing me. And I hate watching you smile at everyone but me. And I just hate myself because…” Hangman’s voice broke then. He looked down at his hands, still clutching your own.

“I hate you.” Your voice sounded so distant. The crashing waves behind you were loud but all you could hear was your heart beating in your chest.

You and Hangman looked at one another. Neither of you spoke and you used your free hand to touch his cheek. You felt little grains of sand on his skin. His eyes never left your face as you wiped away some of the sand.

“Say it again,” Hangman demanded. His voice was different now and you liked the way his face moved under your touch.

“I hate you, Jake,” you said. Hangman inhaled and something in you felt unbelievably fragile like a glass box teetering on the edge of a high shelf.

“I hate you and I hate the idea that you...” You had to take a deep breath to fight the lump in your throat, “I hate that I don’t know if you’re going to make it back from the mission, tomorrow. And if you don’t, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this… hate.”

“Well if that’s your concern, worry no more, Ice Queen,” Hangman said, bringing some of his bravado back, “rest assured, I’m the best. And I’m coming back tomorrow.” You rolled your eyes and laughed. Pulling your hands away from Hangman, you moved to swat his chest. He caught your wrist for the second time that night and, very slowly, brought your open palm to his lips.

You told yourself to pull away. You told yourself this was a bad idea. But feeling Hangman’s lips against your palm pushed all thoughts out of your head.

“Tell me you hate me again,” Hangman said, “you tell the best lies.”

“Tomorrow, when you come back from the mission.” You promised. There was a challenge in your voice and you felt your familiar grin return to your face.

“C’mon, Ice Queen,” Hangman said in a plaintive voice, “hate me tonight. Hate me now.”

“Tomorrow,” you insisted. “when you’re back - safe and sound - I’ll hate you then.” Hangman raised an eyebrow, a little gleam beginning to show in his eyes. He took both of your hands in his.

“Tomorrow,” he began, “when I come back as the hero of the day, you and I are going to play your interrogation game by my rules. You’re going to answer all of my questions - no lies.”

“And you’ll answer my questions, too?” You asked. Hangman nodded and pulled you to your feet.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hangman said, looping your arm around his. The two of you began walking toward The Hard Deck. You could see Rooster and Phoenix dancing with one another. Bob laughed with the other pilots around the pool table. And then you turned to glance up at Hangman. His eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face. Thinking about what might happen tomorrow made your chest feel empty. So, if you held Hangman’s arm a little tighter or pressed yourself a little more against his side, you told yourself that it was better to enjoy it now than to regret it later.

“Where are we going, Lieutenant?” You asked, turning away and hoping your blush wasn’t evident. He was leading you around The Hard Deck rather than back towards the entrance.

“I’m driving you home,” He said with a shrug, “On the ride back, you can tell me more about our date tomorrow.”

A/N: Phew, chapter 5 is done and THE COMMENTS kill me. The support on this is so sweet. Literally the best motivation ever and @turningtoclown that hashtag is the best thing I've ever read. I am laughing so hard. @bluebunny780 and @teacactusworld your messages were so stinking kind.

Please let me know what you think of Ch. 5!

Taglist: @ponyboys-sunsets @rachelccollier @luckyladycreator2 @marland56 @lclove2012-blog @shaded-echoes-recs @gh0strr @fuzzy-panda@littlewhiterose@starkleila@atrxidxs@hellolipoops @kobababysblog@lizzieann143@maggieromanov@nonamedauthor@eg-dr3amer3 @izzy-and-bts @sgtjamesbuchanan-barnes@qardasngan@fantasias-creativebubble@callalily2000@marland56@professorkrasinski @certifiedsimp14@levi-tsk-ackerman@utterly-in-like@mysticaldonkey@dempy @thatchickwiththecamera @deepkissesandunexpectedhappiness @rubyr4bs @azure23x @can-this-be-a-fanfic @dirtynerdy98 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @earth-to-lottie @katesmadness @nessamc @vintageleather @shimmer98 @coco-loco-nut @tgm-enthusiast @xoxabs88xox @r1yuki @hellolipoops @outspokenmatters @thespeeder

#hangman x you #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x oc #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #TeamGossipingDads

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journalofimprobablethings · 1 year

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Happy Tuesday, please enjoy a snippet of post-Circus Jon angst to the tune of “what if Jon didn’t believe he’d actually escaped the Circus when Helen rescued him?”

Time doesn't mean much inside Michael's–Helen's–the Distortion's corridors, but Jon doesn't think he's been there long before Helen opens a door for him and he stumbles forward–into a place that looks very much like his office.

The lights are off, the only illumination coming from the door still hanging open behind him, but he can see the outline of his desk, his uncomfortable wooden chair, the coat stand in the corner. The light from the doorway makes the shadows bend and stretch in strange ways. Jon squeezes his eyes shut.

"Home sweet home," Helen says cheerfully. "Don't say I never did anything for you, Archivist."

And before he can say anything in return, she laughs–a laugh that is completely different from Michael's, but somehow exactly the same–and closes the door, leaving Jon standing alone and naked in the dark.

It feels like an eternity before Jon is able to make himself move mechanically over to the door to turn on the light. He squints again at the sudden brightness.

He stands there for a moment, staring at the familiar clutter scattered across his desk: pens and pencils lined up in serried rows next to his desk lamp; a few post-its with scribbled reminders stuck along the edge; statements slipping out of their haphazard stack on one side of the desk, only partially shored up by the tape recorder sitting next to them.

(he hadn't taken the tape recorder when he left, after all, he knew he hadn't–he determinedly refuses to think about the implications of the one that had seemingly appeared in his bag sometime before he was taken)

The statements, the tape recorder, the pens and pencils and post-its: it all looks more less exactly as he remembers having left it.

Jon doesn't believe it for a second.

It's too perfect, too exact to the memory in his head. He's not sure how long he's been gone, but surely in that time someone would have moved things on his desk, picked up the statements, something.

Surely they would have noticed.

Jon pushes that thought away as soon as it appears (why should they notice? a nasty voice whispers in his ear. why should they care?). He shivers–it was always too cold in this office. He wishes they hadn't bothered with that particular detail. After a moment's consideration, he crosses to his desk and opens the bottom drawer; to his relief, the clothes he stashed there are still folded neatly at the bottom.

It takes him longer than he would like to get dressed. His limbs don't seem to want to obey him, stiff after a month of captivity. Still, he manages it eventually, and he can't help breathing out a shaky sigh of relief when he's finally clothed. He rubs the fabric between his fingers–it feels very real, he'll give them that–and shudders.

It would be easier, he thinks, if he could just believe it was real. If he could listen to the part of his brain that is so ready to accept that he has truly escaped, that he's back in the Archives (out of the frying pan into the fire, his mind whispers). That the horrors of the past however-long he's spent in that museum are finally over.

It would be easier, if he could pretend he's actually safe.

But he can't.

It doesn't really matter, he thinks with bitter humor, whether this is Helen or Nikola playing tricks with his mind. He’s not going to stay here in their mocked-up version of the Archives, taking statements and pretending that everything is fine.

Whoever’s game he’s caught in, he's not going to give them the satisfaction of playing along.

There is a pair of shoes under the coat stand, exactly where he expects. He puts them on, wincing at the unpleasant sensation of the leather against his bare feet. The cardigan hanging on the stand is old and threadbare, the one he always kept in the office to combat the lack of proper heating. He can't help but feel a little better with its familiar weight on his shoulders.

Jon glances once more at the desk–at the tape recorder sitting innocently amongst the statements. On an impulse he's not sure he understands, he grabs it and puts it in his pocket.

Then, before he can lose his nerve, he opens the door and leaves his office behind.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #nikola orsinov #helen richardson #tma fanfic #tma spoilers #i found this in my drafts and i felt like it stood up okay on its own #so here you go #i don't think there's anything in here that need a particular warning but #ask to tag #scribblings #long post

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seokiloquy · 1 year

Text

Affirmation - Tsukishima Kei

Au: Regular (Timeskip)

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

“You do?” You asked.

Tsukishima sighed. Sure, he hadn’t said it before. But with the high energy of the stadium, the adrenaline rushing through his bones, and the cheers bouncing off the walls and into his ears, he felt like floating on air. He had to say it.

Your eyes curled happily at him, a subtle smile like the Mona Lisa, and you shifted your positions to place a light peck on his cheekbone. It was light as a feather yet sucked all the air out of him with the power of a dragon’s wing. You had never done that before, either.

Before he could catch his breath and let his heart settle, Hinata pulled at his jersey from behind with the help of the taller (and comparatively stronger) pair of Yamaguchi and Kageyama. They tugged, stronger than they had been at the beginning of the year, choking him with the collar as they dragged him towards the awaiting team and away from you.

That was seven years ago, right toward the end of their first year after winning the game against their long-time rivals at Nekoma at nationals. Before that moment, you had always been a companion and friend since elementary school. Afterwards, there had been an unspoken agreement that it was something more. Despite himself, he wished it had been spoken even just once.

“Knock knock.” You push open the door to the apartment with a bag that was beginning to tear at the base of the handles.

He glances over for a moment, nodding before turning back to his laptop and punching his fingertips into the keyboard. Still typing away, eyes straining on the bright screen, he keeps his peripherals focused on you, watching you take off your shoes, walk to the kitchen and unload your bag on the counter. As the containers exit the bag, he can smell the warm food wafting his way. He can’t stop working.

Soon after getting another paragraph typed, there’s a plate set in front of him, between his elbows on the desk. You kiss his hairline before dropping your chin on his head and digging your thumbs into his shoulders. It feels like his muscles crack as you do, he doesn’t want to think of the implications of that.

“How many words are left?” You ask lightly.

“400 more.” His throat feels dry, the words scratching against his skin.

“Almost there.” You wrap your arms around his neck, giving him another peck on the temple. “You’re amazing. You’ve got this.”

With you against his back, the food from your restaurant fogging the air beneath his chin, and the fluttering in his chest at your words, he felt like he was lying on hot coals. He manages to cool off when you stand straight and lean against the desk by his arm. It’s a large, hefty piece of wood that came with the apartment, but it shifts back a bit as you fall against it.

“Eat. I don’t care if it’s slow but eat. I’ll get your water. And once you’re done, I have a treat for you. And you have a game with the old team later, don’t forget.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He feels a smile creep onto his face, but he's sure it barely shows, and you walk back to the kitchen.

The last couple of months had been incredibly draining, mostly physically on you and mentally on him. With his degree coming to an end, being officially done as soon as he finished this thesis and submitted it to his professor. He spent the last few weeks of the past year doing his best to complete university while still playing volleyball regularly with his professional team and old schoolmates. He was going to finally graduate and leave his university with a good record, but the backlash of his effort went to you, who had to take care of him while doing everything you already did.

When he typed his last period on the document, the apartment became a bit quieter. Taking a breath, he slowly saved the file, named it, and handed it in.

The confirmation window popped up on his screen, and he cheered, slamming the device closed.

“You’re done?!” You had raced from around the corner, where the living space was situated.

“I’m done!”

Your cheer was louder than his, surprising him, and the smile on your face was one of the largest he’d ever seen from you. Despite that, you still maintained your composure walking quickly forward to hug him. “You’re done. Congratulations. Now finish eating.”

His lunch, now lukewarm, was still sitting at his desk, mostly untouched.

“I brought cake. Your favourite.”

He ate quickly. Everything quickly. He felt more energised than he had all year. And as he was about to leave, volleyball bag hanging from his shoulder, he turned over his shoulder.

“I love you!”

You stare at him wide-eyed, wordless. And in his embarrassment, he slammed the door.

“Tsukki, I think you’re overthinking it. Which is weird. Stop it,” Kageyama, ever kind, says with a grimace. “Why does it even matter anyways?”

“Because Kageyama,” Yamaguchi cuts in, “They have liked each other for years and have been dating. Dating? Have you guys been dating?”

Tsukishima shrugs a little.

Yamaguchi nods suspiciously. “They’ve been together for years, but you remember, they’re both kind of….” Yamaguchi stood straight, looking at Kageyama with a neutral expression that looked unsettling on his generally happy face. “They don’t express that sort of thing.”

“Okay, and?”

“And, It takes a lot for Tsukki to admit that he loves them—even though it’s obvious—so when they don’t say it back, it feels bad.”

For a moment, Tsukishima wished Hinata hadn’t been late and would give him the unwarranted vote of confidence and reassurance he usually did. But just as the thought leaves him, the rest of his old teammates begin to trickle in, younger and older ones, including the cheerful redhead.

A part of him relaxes at the sting of the shorter man’s hand when Hinata slaps his back and gives him a smile, “They love you, even if they don’t say it. So don’t worry, and block my spikes instead.”

During a water break, Sugawara finds him sitting on one of the benches. “Hinata told me.”

“Oh wow, I’m so shocked. Who would have ever guessed that Hinata couldn’t keep things to himself.” His tone is flat and hollow, supported by a raised brow and bored expression.

Sugawara smiles, brushing his white hair back before joining the junior on the bench. He pulls Tsukishima’s towel off his head to rest on his shoulder, exposing his damp blond hair. “You and (L/N) are an unconventional pair, you know?”

“How so?”

“Well, Look at what you usually see couples do around you. Tanaka is probably an overzealous example, but he worships the ground Kiyoko walks on, singing her praises, professing his undying love any minute he can. He takes her on dates, holds her hand, and probably tries to dance too. It’s very, in a way, traditional.”

“What’s your point?” Tsukishima asked, tipping his head back to take another swig of his water.

“Tanaka is an obvious lover, but have you ever seen Kiyoko be so expressive?”

Tsukishima pauses in thought over Sugawara’s words. Kiyoko was, still is, a quiet person. She shows her true feelings in rare circumstances when needed but often keeps them close to her chest. No one really had a clue that she reciprocated Tanaka’s affections until after she graduated and kept returning to visit. Visit Tanaka.

“Despite dating for a while, She only ever said she loved him once so far.”

“Why, everyone else does it.”

“Some people express their feelings differently. Hinata supports the people he cares about, helping them when he can, and giving them strength. Yamaguchi likes spending time with people; he’s never late to a meeting, makes sure he respects others’ boundaries and listens to them, but will push harder if he thinks necessary.” Tsukishima is reminded of the summer camp in their first year and how loud His best friend’s voice had gotten during their argument.

“Kageyama is…well, aggressive. He is forceful in his approaches. He’ll make you do things you’re hesitant about because he knows it’ll be better in the long run. He’s learning to be calmer but angrily passionate.

“Your friends are all different and unique in their own ways. They love and care about you, but have you ever heard them say it?”

“Yamaguchi says it too much.”

“Okay, besides Yamaguchi.”

“No.”

“Then, how has (L/N) shown that they love you?”

Breathing deeply through his nose, Tsukishima leaned back and pondered. Sugawara patted his shoulder and got to his feet, leaving to talk to Daichi.

It was a whirlwind in Tsukishima’s mind. If someone told his friends that they loved them, or vice versa, he could imagine each situation going differently. Yamaguchi would probably give a small sentimental gift or roll up into a giggling ball. Hinata would laugh happily and say it back, or just say it outright with a giant smile. Kageyama probably wouldn’t say anything but maybe reach for their hand. Sugawara was a cuddler. Daichi was a talker. Asahi gave gifts. Tanaka screamed over the mountains. Nishinoya likes experiences. Kuroo would say it casually. Kenma would press his side into someone. Bokuto would probably make a display in public. Koganegawa would too. Kyoutani…. Kyoutani wouldn’t, he thinks.

And you. You made him food at work, kept his schedule in line, remembered his likes and dislikes, his passions and regrets, were a solid support beam he could lean on in the case of a logical break. You hugged him, kissed him, and smiled like a content cat, mostly with your eyes. You froze, shocked and flustered, every time like you weren’t expecting him to say it, say anything at all.

It is late when he gets back to the apartment, and as he expected, you are lying on the couch, hazy eyes watching the tv screen. He replaces your pillow with his lap, looking down at you with a gentle expression that probably appeared to be nothing to the untrained eye.

You turn your head up, smiling at him with your eyes. “Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow.”

“At your restaurant?”

“No, somewhere nice. My boss’s friend runs a place inside a fancy hotel. You have to dress up too. And, I managed to reserve a table.”

Tsukishima’s brow quirks. “Won’t that be expensive?”

“Friends and family discount,” you reassure him. “Don’t worry about the money, I’m paying.”

“You’re not going to let me refuse.”

“Of course not. You have your first free day in years. I’m treating you.”

You roll off his lap and get to your feet, stepping into your room with a confident posture.

Tsukishima chose an ironed button-up shirt and dress pants, with a blazer and tie for good measure. There was no certainty that he’d blend in until he arrived, and in the case that he had overdressed, it was easier to take off layers than add them. It was a good thing he did too. Seeing your choice of dress for the night as you exit your room immediately set him at ease for his own choice, but also made him fear the location that would require such a high-profile dress code.

You look ready for a red carpet walk, a modelling shoot for a rich company that the average person doesn’t know the name of, something other than stuffing your face with expensive food. Tsukishima tries not to let a look of awe show as you adjust your shoulders and fabric around your waist, yet he can hardly keep his eyes off you until you’re walking up the steps and into the building filled with bright crystal chandeliers.

As a waiter sits you both down, he’s about to ask for a menu but the poshly dressed waiter walks off without a word.

Tsukishima scoffs, “For a nice place I was expecting good service.”

“It is nice service. I set up orders when I booked the reservation.” You smiled lightly across the table.

“How do you know what I’d like?”

“I work as a chef and have been making your meals for years. I know what you like, I’m practically your mother.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Can’t handle the truth?”

You’re teasing him, trying to get him to relax and settle into his chair like the rest of the guests that scatter the large room.

He’s about to retort when the plates of food are set in front of him. Instead, he finds himself letting out a sigh, watching as you happily bit into the expensive plate of food before you. He joins in, letting the conversation simmer down until the plates are clean and taken away.

“Don’t get up yet,” you call, gesturing for Tsukishima to sit back down. “There’s one more thing.”

“I don’t think I can stomach anymore.”

“Ya right, wait till you see it.”

Strawberry shortcake, a large generous slice of it, with beautiful drizzling and topped with plump red strawberries.

Across the table, you're giving him a soft, gentle smile that makes his stomach churn. You prompt him to take a bite, and he does, only to taste the most delicious slice of cake he’s ever had.

“I love you.” It was a whisper from across the table, almost washed away by the chatter from the hundred people sitting in the room with you. It was a gentle reminder that he didn’t even need anymore but so desperately wanted to hear from your lips. “I really do love you.” You repeated, finally.

His heart soared.

I’ve been watching Bluey. I love Bluey. I’m a child. - Bacon

Posted: 18/12/2022

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

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sacha-da-1 · 2 years

Text

A tpotd fanfic

Warning: angst

Characters: Dhawan!Master, Second Doctor

*The Master is left all alone by Yaz, solemnly playing a tune on the Doctor’s old recorder*

A voice from behind had startled him from his consuming melancholy. “Excuse me, I think that belongs to me!” He quickly turns to catch a glimpse of the voice he swears he’s heard before. And he’s right, it’s HIM! But it can’t be…. Hallucinating again is he? This is getting ridiculous!

“You’re not here.” The disheveled man sneers and slowly lifts the instrument back to his face, a tremor forming in his fingers. The man from behind steps closer and reaches out to retrieve his possession, “I think you’ll find that in fact, I very much am!”

His hand appearing before his face causes him to jump and drop the object he had moments earlier been holding onto so tightly. “Oh, you’ve dropped it. Shame, no matter, it’s still intact!” The familiar man crouches down to retrieve it and softly blows the dust from it.

“There we are, all better. I’m almost surprised this is the first time I’ve had to catch you with this….. I assume you are from my far future…. you never could keep your hands off my things, not even at the academy…. Surely that’s been a long time for you, I’m sorry. I don’t know anything of how things turn out in my future. Not yet at least.”

The Master stares at him with interest. Taking in each movement and gesture. Watching the clumsy man try his best to maintain his composure in his uncertainty. He looks, but he does not speak, and does not move, not yet.

Some would say he hardly knew this version of him, but that wasn’t entirely true. Of course, at this point in the other man’s life, the two hadn’t been reunited yet, if you disregard the time he would’ve forgotten, when he had been accompanied by three of his other selves in the Death Zone on Gallifrey. (Now, that was quite a day!) But the Master did have his ways of keeping tabs on his dearest enemy, even when they were apart. But he always did wish they’d spent more real time together when he had occupied this form.

The Doctor finally breaks the heavy, uncomfortable silence: “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here and how I found you. Well…. It’s kind of embarrassing to tell I suppose, but I may have gotten just a little overzealous and got a tracker for this. One that transcends time frames, of course. Thing is…. I can’t even remember what the incident was that caused me to get it. You’d think I’d remember something like that if it made such an impression. But I can only assume it had to do with a crossing of my own timeline or something of the sort, so I took it upon myself to prepare for the next time….”

Still no words separated from the Master’s lips. And the Doctor found himself shuffling a bit uncomfortably under his unwavering gaze. The other man opened his mouth to say something else, but the Master managed to speak first. “How did you…. How do you know it’s me?” The Doctor gapes at his old friend and is frozen still for just a moment as he ponders his reply, but then his expression melts into a fond smile. “Well, that’s my little secret.” He says as a playful grin spreads across his face.

“Now, I’d love to stay a little longer, but it appears I’m running out of time, or rather, you are running out of time. To be precise. I know our parting all those years ago, wasn’t the most pleasant, but I want you to know that I still care…. I hope you can find it within you to believe me. I still care very much for you, Master….” He finds himself looking down after that remark and forces himself to meet his friend’s eyes once again. It didn’t take much time for the Master to observe that tears had started in the Doctor’s eyes….. and also in his own. “…. Goodbye, my friend. Here, you’ll be needing to return this to my ship. When you’re ready…. If you like….” His voice cracks and the Master can hardly keep it together. Both their hands clasp either side of the instrument, remaining their for a moment that could’ve been a whole lifetime or a mere split second, before the Doctor finally lets go and continues: “Or you know, you can just….” He doesn’t have time to finish before he feels the pressure of the Master clinging to him and pushing all his weight onto him in a hug. He remains silent, but the Doctor can feel tears leaking through his jacket. “Oh I’m so sorry…..” He speaks, though he does not yet fully know what for. Or even if any of it other than their initial parting is truly his fault. If he truly has any reason to apologize at all. The Master twitches a few times, against his will and after a long moment, in which the Doctor does not interfere, does he release him from his arms. The tears are gone, but his face betrays him.

The two stare at each other a moment longer and exchange meaning and feelings between each other that no words could ever suffice to hold the true power of. And even if they could, it’s only assumed their own pride or perhaps even fear might get in the way of them sharing their truth. But here is their sanctuary, a look that tells all that needs to be told, and no words need be spoken.

A tear glistens as it trails down the Doctor’s face. He looks as though he can’t catch his breath, but he pushes through to speak one last time. “….. I’ll see you again, Master…. Promise you won’t disappear on me, will you?” He didn’t mean to let that last part slip out. The Master cannot speak, but he nods firmly in agreement. Though he does not know if he can keep that promise in truth, at least not this time…. How things have changed. He opens his mouth again and wills himself to speak but he can’t. He lets out a shiver that his body no longer has the power to suppress. “…. I know.” The Doctor slips up again. The Master’s eyes shoot back up to meet his. But there’s no anger, well no true anger, only longing for the fading presence of his friend. The Master nods again with as much strength and control as he’s able to maintain, and softly slides his hands over the beloved recorder. His Doctor’s prized possession. The Doctor offers him a final, soft, sad smile and wanders off to return to his ship. As he hears the sound of his ship disappear, and the Master slowly settles back onto the ground, the sound of the same ship, only many years into the future, announces itself once more…..

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digital-corruption · 2 years

Text

So the way I see it, I'll be posting one more tomorrow and then there might be a small break because of reasons. 🤭

Unrecognisable Part 7

Sweep by sweep, I could feel my hair falling. Though the room was quite, the sound of the electric razor was deafening. I know it wasn’t on for long, but it felt like forever. When it finally ceased, my hair follicles still reverberated. I still didn’t dare look. As long as I kept my eyes closed, the memory of my hair remained intact.

I jumped the first time Jake’s fingers ran through what was left of my hair. His touch gave me goosebumps all over. As he applied the black dye to my hair, I started to relax. After the devastation of the razor, it was soothing. He cursed to himself as dye ran a bit more than he was expecting and he rushed to get to it with a paper towel before too much got onto my clothes.

“I should’ve made you strip,” he mumbled.

“I definitely would not have,” I shook my head.

“It would’ve been easier,” he insisted.

“And I still would not,” I reiterated.

“Why not? It’s just skin. It’s nothing that I haven't seen before,” he said without thinking. “Of women in general! I didn't mean you specifically.”

I opened my eyes to get a good look at him. I couldn’t tell if that slip was intentional or not. He looked a bit embarrassed so I had to assume he didn’t intend it. Nevertheless, my mind drifted back to those videos. It was so unbelievable that I started to wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me. My boyfriend and I had been together for the better part of a year. How did I not know he had been recording our most intimate moments? Was I seriously that naive? First Jake, then my boyfriend. I felt like next I was going to find out I am actually the illegitimate child of some obscure royal family. I wished I could just pick up my phone and demand some answers out of my boyfriend. I didn’t know if there could ever be a plausible explanation, but I needed something to make sense for a change. What a time it was to be on the run. Nothing was ever simple in my life.

“Ok, you’re done. Can you please lower your head under the faucet?” Jake broke my train of thought, pulling me back into the present.

He turned on the sink to get it to a decent temperature before I leant over it. I let the water run over my head for a while first and I was going to rinse it myself, but Jake beat me to it. He spent a long time massaging my scalp, far longer than what seemed necessary. I pulled away after it became clear to me it was sufficiently rinsed. As soon as I did, I saw my new hair in the mirror. Pitch black, very shortly cropped, but not buzz cut – he hadn’t taken it all, but it was certainly different than it was before. Jake reached into his bag of tricks again and pulled out an old baseball cap to put it over my head. I had to say, I hardly recognised the person in the mirror. Sacrificing my hair had better been worth it.

“Say something,” Jake was watching me uncomfortably. It was clear he felt very guilty about what he did.

“I don’t know, I think I am in shock,” I sighed. “Everything feels strange, like this is just one long nightmare.”

I glanced down and saw all of my locks of hair forming a circle around me. Even then I was still in disbelief.

“I am sorry to have made your life so miserable,” Jake said with a layer of annoyance.

“I don't blame you,” I insisted. “I know you're just trying to keep us safe.”

“I'm trying to get you home. I have a contact that can set you up with a new ID. Then we can get you across the border. From there, you can travel back to your country,” he explained. “Maybe once this blows over, you might even get to go back to your family and friends.”

“What about you?” I questioned.

“What about me?” he looked at me confused.

I turned to look at him directly. “What do you plan to do?”

“Do what I always do. Find a quiet, secluded location and lay low,” he said nonchalantly.

“That's pretty lonely,” I commented.

“I'll be fine,” he brushed it off.

“Don't lie,” I frowned. “That's not a way to live.”

“It’s done me all right so far,” he insisted.

I looked into deeply into his eyes. I could tell he didn't fully believe that, but he didn't waiver from his stance. However, the more I stared into his eyes, the more I was drawn to them. They looked sad, regretful even, with a touch of longing. I saw him, I saw the old Jake in his eyes and I didn’t want to him to disappear again. Before I knew it, I was drifting closer to him. He closed the gap, letting our lips lightly touch. It was too tantalising for me, so I kissed him with more emphasis. He pulled the cap off of my head to get it out of the way so he could grab my neck and deepen the kiss. By then we had disconnected from the rest of the world - we were just two lost souls that had finally reconnected. At some point Jake had pushed me up against the wall beside the hand dryer. If I hadn’t pushed him away, there’s no saying what might have happened in that bathroom.

“Um, that was unexpected,” I blushed.

“But it was nice,” he smiled. He leant to kiss me again, but I stopped him. “What’s wrong? Is it the location? We can take this elsewhere.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Well, ok, this is the last place I would want to be doing this, but… I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he said with a disappointed tone. “Don't tell me you're feeling guilty about him? The jackass that has no regard for your integrity?”

“He's still my boyfriend!” I argued. “Technically.”

“Still?” he scoffed. “I hardly think he has a right to be!”

“I have to give him a chance to redeem himself!” I insisted. “Everyone deserves a second chance to do better. I owe him that much.”

“You don’t owe him anything!” he continued. “He violated your privacy! That’s something I would never do to you!”

“Trying to, what, show off? Two seconds ago you were saying that you were going to send me on my way and you were going to disappear. Again!” I pointed out.

“I thought that’s what you wanted! To go home! You think I don’t want to keep you down in this world with me!?” he said painfully. “When you were far away in your country, it was manageable. With you here now…”

“Jake…” I didn’t know how to respond to him.

“No, you should go back home, as planned. It’s where you belong,” he decided. “You should be waking up in your warm bed, having a decent breakfast, working an earnest job, going home to have dinner with your… boyfriend… so he can fuck you to sleep.”

“Seriously?” I glared at him.

“It’s not my fault that he bores you so much that you have to fake it all the time.” Yup, the prick was back.

“I know what you’re doing,” I frowned.

“If it was me, I’d never let that pass,” he ignored me. “No faking on my watch.”

“Are you done?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“I don't know, is it working?” he asked apprehensively.

I rolled my eyes, “No, it’s not.”

“Then I need to try harder,” he smirked.

“Ok, you do that, but you know, we should go. The attendant will get curious as to why we're taking so long,” I changed the subject.

“Not really, I told her you have morning sickness. She’s giving us all the time in the world,” he said casually. “But we should clean up.”

“We should,” I nodded slowly glancing around the floor again.

Jake went and grabbed the broom and dust pan from outside and immediately started sweeping it up. While he continued, I cleaned up the hair dye from around the sink. We worked in silence, each consumed in our thoughts. That kiss wasn't just a kiss. It was addictive and intoxicating. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do it again. But everything was so complicated.

“Hmm, it's starting to grow on me,” Jake said suddenly.

I glanced in the mirror again and eyed the stranger in my skin. She seemed so much more confident than I, so much more hardened than I, so much more in control than I. I felt like I had been given a role to play and it was time for me to step up, but I didn't know my lines.

“Are you ready?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, let's go,” I said as I put the cap back on and slung the backpack over my shoulder again.

I waited for Jake to return the bathroom key before we started walking down the street again. The night sky was lightening over the city, which made me realise just how late, or early rather, it was. Exhaustion hit me immediately.

I yawned, “Jake...”

“We’re almost there ok? Just a few more blocks,” he assured me.

“Please tell me there will be a bed for me,” I rubbed my eyes.

“Aww, is whittle MC tired?” he teased.

“Shut up! I'm not a machine like you,” I gave him a small shove.

“We can’t all be perfect,” he joked.

“Ugh! That was so bad it makes me want to vomit!” I winced. “Can’t you go back to that other Jake?”

“The one that hurts every time he looks at you? Unlikely,” he mumbled.

I stopped walking, but he kept going so I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Oh, come on, Jake. You left me remember? Why do you have to keep acting like its my fault?”

He sighed, “I left because I needed air. With everything with Hannah… it was just too much. I realise the timing was very...”

“Inappropriate?” I ended his sentence for him.

“To put it mildly. And we were so entangled that I couldn’t think straight. By the time I got a handle on everything again, you had moved on,” he explained.

“Jake, that was like, what, four months later? Let’s not forget you deleted everything,” I frowned.

“It’s what I do when I panic. I hit the kill switch and get rid of all traces of me,” he admitted. “When you’ve been on the run as long as I have, paranoia becomes a part of you and sometimes is your only ally.”

“You could’ve reached out,” I shook my head.

“No, it was for the better. You were in your world and I was in mine,” he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Our worlds don’t mix.”

“Didn’t mix, you mean. It seems fairly mixed now,” I mused.

“No, you were pulled out of yours and into mine. There is a difference. You don’t belong here and I need to send you back.”

“Then what was that before? It sure as hell seems like you don’t believe that,” I pointed out.

“What I selfishly want and what you need are on opposite sides of the war,” he said defeated.

“By your definition!” I grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer. “You can't decide what I need without consulting me.”

“You said so yourself earlier, that this has been a nightmare. For me this is everyday,” he argued. “And it’s not like you can even make up your mind.”

“Oh come on, that’s not fair. You only just came back into my life less than a day ago and all of this has been a trial by fire,” I lowered my head. “I need time to...:”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jake pulled away. “Come on, let’s find a place for tonight for us to rest.”

I watched him walk off for a bit before following. With the lack of sleep, lingering jetlag and absolute chaos, I couldn’t think straight anymore. One voice kept telling me I had a boyfriend I still needed to work out things with. After all, how could I throw out all of our time together over one misdemeanour? Just because Jake reappeared? That wasn’t right and obligations and all that.

But then there was Jake. The more time I spent with him, the more old emotions were brought back. There was an undeniable dark cloud that followed him as he walked away. How much was he keeping from me? I swore I heard Dan yelling at me, begging me to stay away from Jake.

If you hadn’t noticed by now, I don’t always make the best choices.

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #unrecognisable fanfic

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wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

Text

The Sixth Hokage and his Wife

This is a birthday present for myself!!! YEY! Happy birthday me! Soft old people being old people and soft! Cute stuff! Kakashi love! All for me! whoop. Positively unedited because this will be read by like 5 people. (also i hate the title but its like 11.30 pm right now and I can't think of a better one)

this is set during the Kakashi Retsuden novel.

Hatake Kakashi x OC

Ikigai Au

only fluff.

4168 words.

for @kakashiweek Day 6: Legends.

There was a knock on the door.

Kakashi looked over the reading Nanara and waited, his eyes locked to the door. Margo opened it slowly and stepped in. “Kakashi-san”, no matter how many weeks he had spent around her, Margo continued to stay very formal with him, “There is a visitor for you here.”

Immediately, Kakashi was alert. Was there a possibility that someone had figured him out? Recognised him? The Sixth Hokage was relatively known around these places, so it wasn’t impossible. He sat up straight and even Nanara lifted his head, having noticed how his teacher’s demeanour changed.

“Who?”, he asked carefully. “I mean, did they introduce themselves?”

Margo nodded. “She said her name is Nakayama… Nakayama Yui.”

His shoulders relaxed instantly and he got up. “Nanara, you can go outside and play, I will call you when dinner is ready.”

“Who is it?” The boy was as interested as ever. Kakashi shook his head and just pointed to the door, and though Nanara pouted a little, he got up and followed Margo out of the room, not without throwing a look back at his teacher.

Once Nanara had disappeared behind her, Margo said: “I will bring her in then.” Then she turned around and left.

When she entered, Kakashi noticed that she had tied up her black hair at her back and was hiding it under a deep hood. She really did look a little like her Yui-self. In recent years the white streaks in her hair had become more visible and he had teased her about it, but secretly he liked the fact that the age showed on her face. As children they had both thought they’d never make it far enough to get grey hair, but they had done it and they had done it together.

“You shouldn’t have come here”, Kakashi said instead of a greeting. Sayuri dropped her hood down and jumped onto him instantly. He did not pull his mask down in time before she had pressed her lips against his. They kissed over the mask all the time, but after all this time he hadn’t seen her, he secretly wished she had given him enough time to take it down.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to take as long as he did. The mission was nothing more than to infiltrate Redaku and find records about the Sage of Six Paths, but he had stayed because he could not ignore the conspiracy in the country. Maybe she had come after him with news, maybe something had come up with Naruto.

She pulled away, frowning at him. “I missed you.” Then, as if this very clear display of affection hurt her personally, she added: “And your mask is disgusting, do you even wash it?”

There was dust on her coat and in her hair, probably from her trail over the mountains down. Sayuri klicked a little button on her front and let her coat fall off over her shoulders, underneath she was wearing a basic outfit, nothing of her usual wardrobe with the Hatake symbol over it. Clearly, she must have guessed right that being undercover might be better for this place.

“That does not change the fact that you shouldn’t have come here”, Kakashi said, but with his hand he grabbed her waist and pulled her close again. “I was sent on this mission alone.”

This time he had the chance to take his mask down before they kissed again. Sayuri moved closer to him, wrapping herself around his body to press herself against it. It had been over a month if not two since they had last kissed and though they had done missions apart, it had never been so long.

She pushed him backwards, her lips steady against his. “You took too long”, she whispered, fingers digging underneath his shirt, “So I had to make sure you are fine.”

Kakashi chuckled. She rarely openly confessed how much she worried about his well being, but it always made it happy when she did. He let himself fall down onto the couch and she was already halfway into unbuttoning his shirt. This wasn’t how he had expected to spend his afternoon, but he wasn’t complaining.

“How are the kids?” He put both hands onto her face. Sayuri paused to pull an eyebrow at him: “That is what you are thinking about now?”

And though most of his time with Nanara so far had been enjoyable and fun in some ways, this was the first time Kakashi laughed honestly since he left Konoha. He pulled his wife onto his lap and pulled her hair open at the back of her head.

Maybe it didn’t fit their age that they fell over each other like teenagers when their parents were out for the first time, but Kakashi had missed her too, obviously, and so it seemed easy to just give in to the movements of his handy, face and body that he had learned so well over their last 20 years of marriage. In his life, Kakashi had met many people that he knew well, but he knew nobody as well as Sayuri. He could read every mood on her face, knew every hair on her head, every inch of her body.

“Tsuki is on mission,” Sayuri said afterwards, her head resting against his naked chest. She was talking as if she was just replying to the question he had asked an hour ago. “Obito is home, but he looks after Miu. Though I wonder if it is not the other way around sometimes.” She grinned.

Miu, though seven years younger than Obito, liked looking after her brother as if she was the older one. Mostly because she wasn’t as worried about the world as he was. Kakashi thought of her loud, never shy mouth and missed her a little. In the last months he had thought of his family quite some for obvious reasons.

“Well,” Sayuri added, “They at least were when I left. Which has been quite some weeks ago.” The climb over the mountains was three days alone without a horse and even if Sayuri had one of those, Kakashi knew she didn’t know how to ride one.

He spun a strand of her hair around his finger. “Did you come here on a mission?” he asked. Somehow the idea that his student now felt he was too old to do a mission reliably hurt him on a personal level.

Sayuri hesitated, which gave it away a little too much. “No,” she said finally. “I just went on my own.” That might lead to issues once they got back, Kakashi thought. He chuckled a little. Apparently his wife had never truly left her stubborn spirit behind.

She tapped him with her nose. “Why are you even still here? What took you so long? You didn’t say it would go this long.”

“Well if you would be sent on official missions like normal working shinobi, you would know the mission details.” He flicked his finger over her nose. “I was sent here alone for a reason. This country is closed off and has no trade with other villages. We are undercover.”

“I couldn’t…” she said, burying her head into his arm, “I couldn’t stand the idea that there might be something wrong.” Of course she didn’t look at him, because she was embarrassed. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.

Then he began to tell her about his mission. The fact that Naruto had sent him here to get word about the Sage of Six Paths. The drought, the flooding, the queen that could not use her magical rain stick. That he had taken the position of tutor for the young prince, visited the capital and that there was now war coming. “This all required me to stay around longer,” he finished apologetically.

“They want to go to war with fire country?” Sayuri seemed as confused about that plan as Kakashi had been. He hummed in affirmation, which led to her sighing. “Well I understand now that you need to meddle a little. You can’t leave those things alone, especially if there is a young child to teach.” She looked up at him and winked.

Whatever she could mean with that, Kakashi thought, then he suddenly remembered the Legend of Sixth Hokage book that Nanara was religiously carrying around like a good luck charm. He had skipped over that part completely as he had not regarded it as important information to share. “You’re not in it either…” Kakashi mumbled, closing out a thought.

“I’m not in what?” Sayuri asked.

He turned to the side so he could face her, which wasn’t as easy as it seemed on this very small couch that they were laying pressed against each other. “They have a book here, everyone knows it. It is called “The Legend of the Sixth Hokage”.” He waited to see the reaction on her face.

First, she was clearly confused, then, she shook her head, then she laughed and then she frowned again: “And I am not in it?! Must be a terrible book then.” He grinned at her fake outrage.

“It is in a way,” Kakashi confirmed. “I think they must have compiled it from travellers that passed through here, none of whom had ever met me. Not only is the version of me that is in the book entirely divorced from the way I really am, it also diminishes the contributions of other people in my life.” He paused, then, “Such as you of course.”

She blushed and the compliment, which was still one of his favourite things about her.

He continued: “Nanara, the boy I'm teaching, is obsessed with it. I wonder if he would be disappointed to find out his hero is just a random person like me.”

“I highly doubt that, Kakashi, I doubt anyone here would be disappointed to find out you are that man of legend.” Sayuri pulled herself up to stretch. “I’ve heard the people talk, you know, when I looked for you.”

Kakashi sat up too. “Only good things I hope?”

“The amount of women that asked me if I know whether you are married is too high.” She grinded her teeth together. Kakashi knew she was reminded of their early years of marriage in which the people of Konoha had regarded her as an outsider that didn’t deserve to be at his side. But that was long ago.

He put a hand on her back and rubbed it softly: “Did you tell them?”

“Of course, I did not tell them, do you think I’m here to ruin your mission?” She pouted a little.

She got up and collected her things off the floors to get dressed. There was sand everywhere from her skirt to her top to her cloak. Kakashi wondered if the area around the capital city had become even more dry than when he had been there, if the water he had provided there had already run out. Something clearly needed to be done and done quickly, to save the people in this valley.

“Nanara found out that his father, the previous King, had been writing letters to me. That i knew about their ancient staff that makes it rain here.'' Kakashi got up too and followed her example in dressing up. “I told him to write a letter to the Sixth Hokage and tell him about the war, and ask for support. Of course I'm no longer there now, but I have full faith in Naruto.”

Sayuri took a tiny brush out of a bag she’d been carrying and handed it to him. He started brushing it as if they were at home in their bedroom. “Naruto will help,” Sayuri replied, “No way will he let people die from thirst like it has been happening here.”

“Yes, he would not,” Kakashi agreed.

Another knock at the door. From the footsteps Kakashi knew it was Margo back again. Sayuri and him scattered away from each other quickly and sat down on opposite sides of the room. When Kakashi finally said “Come in” he was still holding the brush in his hand.

Margo opened slowly and stuck her head into the room. “It is almost dinner time. You said you would call Nanara, but I can get him if you want..” Her voice trailed off as her eyes went from Sayuri’s half made hair, to the pillows on the floor to Kakashi's feet and back to Sayuri.

“No, I will get him. Thank you.” Kakashi said sternly. It was better to get her out of the room before she made the entirely right conclusions about what had happened inside of it. Margo nodded lightly, moving her head down as if she was bowing to him, and then closed the door again.

Sayuri laughed. “You tried to really save that one, but she knows.”

“I’m not sure, really, there could be many reasons-”

“No, she knows, my dear.” She walked over again and ran her fingers along the scalp of his head. “I hope she tells all the women in town, so that they know you belong to someone.” She was almost whispering, her voice so low as if she was trying to curse him - or them.

He could have stayed there, let her run her hands through his hair over and over again, but instead he knew he had to get up. He dragged her along with him to the door and then before putting his mask fully back on, kissed her lips softly one last time.

“They can’t know we are married.” He was stern again. “It can’t be known who I am.”

She waved his concerns away. “Right right. When have I ever caused you trouble?” His eyebrow raised and he almost wanted to ask if he should give her a list, but her hand had already opened the door, and so they exited together.

The evening sun was brightly shining on the low level hills around the village now. It was evening, dinner time, exactly as Margo said. With shock Kakashi realised that it took him half a day to “celebrate” his reunion with his wife, precious time they did not really have if he was honest. He narrowed his eyes into the distance and listenend intensely, but he could not see or hear a large group of people. The army wasn’t approaching yet.

Nanara played in the field, his hand holding a large wooden stick that he poked into his friend’s belly. “Get killed with your own sword, Zabuza the demon!” he yelled and poked a little harder.

Sayuri weighed her head to the side: “Zabuza, huh?”

“Well, he has it out of that stupid book,” kakashi felt almost like he needed to apologise for how unfeeling Nanara was to speak of Zabuza in front of her, but in the end the boy did not know who she was, or who Zabuza was for that matter.

When the boy saw his teacher, he immediately dropped the stick and straightened himself out. The smile on his face vanished as if he denied himself the excitement and happiness that came through play. “Kakashi, that took all afternoon,” he scolded from afar.

“Apologies,” Kakashi said in the timid voice he had always been using with him. “Yui and I are old acquaintances and we needed to catch up.” He could see Sayuri smirk ever so slightly when he said the words “catch up.”

Nanara walked to them, his eyes completely on Sayuri as if she was a rare species of animal. “What did you guys talk about?” he asked slowly, as if he knew that he wasn’t supposed to ask this specific question, but still couldn’T stop his curiosity.

“The situation here, Nanara, Yui knows me from my last job before iI taught you. She came here to see where I ended up.” Technically that was correct, Kakashi thought, Sayuri had known him during his hokage days and Sayuri had come to check where he had ended up.

Sayuri bowed with her head a little: “Nice to meet you, Prince Nanara.”

The boy frowned almost instantly and shook his head: “No price.” Then he let out a breath and stepped closer to sayuri. “I’ve never seen you here before? Did you come from the capital city? Who sent you? The prime minister or my sister?”

“No, no, I came over the mountain.” She waved her arms defensively. “I didn’t know anything about this country until I came here to find Sukea - err- I mean Kakashi.”

Kakashi and his wife exchanged a look along the lines of “That is not my codename this time” and “You should have used a codename.”

Nanara’s eyes narrowed while he looked from one to the other and then he fixated on Sayuri again. “Your name is Yui?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitating.

“And you know Kakashi from before he came here?”

Sayuri nodded.

“Do you know fire country?”

She nodded again.

“Do you know the Sixth Hokage then at least? Because Kakashi did not know him until I told him about it.” The boy now stared intensely.

Kakashi was happy that he had told Sayuri about the book and Nanara’s weird obsession with it, because it helped her to navigate this situation easier now. She could just pretend she also didn’t know who this hokage was and their cover was ever more safe.

Sayuri hesitated for a moment: “Sixth Hokage?” She said the word slowly as if she was thinking. Her eyes met Kakashi's for a little moment and then she said: “Yes. Indeed I know him.”

“Why would you say that?” Kakashi whispered under his breath as Nanaara immediately broke out into a discussion about all the many achievements of the Sixth Hokage, how he’d always admired him and how he had lately written about him.

Sayuri shrugged her shoulders and then turned back to the boy. “He is pretty remarkable is he not?”

Nanara nodded: “Have you met him?”

She considered her reply. Then: “Yes, I have met him.” Kakashi suppressed the urge to grab her by the arm and drag her away.. How had she survived as a famous assassin on the continent if she was giving out so much information about herself?

“Long ago,” she said finally, “before I even met Kakashi. I once met the man who became the Sixth Hokage in a fight. I fought him to the best of my abilities, but he won over me. He left me with this scar.” She pointed at her cheek.

Kakashi thought of that day, the thunder crashing and the wind howling and how she’d glanced at him from underneath his kunai. He had not known it was Sayuri back then, though he had felt that there was something about her face that seemed familiar to him.

“I want you to read my book “The Legend of the Sixth Hokage” and tell me more about him once you are done!” Nanara was very excited suddenly, bouncing up and down.

“Maybe after dinner you can bring it to her. She will definitely spend the night here.” Kakashi reached out to push Nanara forward. “Margo is ready with food and there is plenty, so you should dig in.”

The boy stumbled forward and Sayuri followed closely. “We shouldn’t eat so much”, nanara grumbled. “We are supposed to keep most of the harvest for the army, remember?” His previously so excited eyes darkened now.

The adults exchanged another look.

Dinner went on unremarkably, though nanara did not speak much at all. He told Kakashi quietly that the Sixth Hokage hadn’t replied to his letter of help yet. Kakashi in turn told the boy that it was several days flight for a hawk to fire country and that they would hear back from him eventually.

“He is still alive though, is he not?” Nanara looked at Sayuri. “The Sixth Hokage?”

She put her head to the side: “Of course. Yes. He is still alive.”

The boy brought the book just like he had said he would. “Please bring it back to me once you are done Yui-san”, he said, “I’m not sure how long I will still have it if we are going to war.” Apparently he thought reading was impossible then.

Kakashi was proud of how far nanara had come under his tutorship. “You could read it to her,” he mentioned, but the boy just shook his head.

“I have to think about some stuff tonight, Kakashi, you want me to decide what to do for my own future.” The boy smiled at both of them and then bid his farewell. He seemed years older than the person he had been when Kakashi arrived.

They gave Sayuri a nice little room in the same house Kakashi was sleeping in. He had wanted to say, of course, that she could stay with him, but Margo already seemed suspicious enough, asking questions all through dinner about how “Yui” had met Kakashi and when and why. It turned out that Sayuri was not as bad at undercover missions as the first impression implied. She had a reply ready for all of these things of which none implied any romantic relationship between them.

“He is an idiot really, kakashi i mean, I just had to check he didn’t break his own arm again.” She grinned and winked at him.

Kakashi waited until long after midnight to sneak out of his own room and slip into hers. He had left a shadow clone behind just in case someone who was nosy was going to look into his room, although that was very unlikely.

Sayuri was sitting with hre back against the wall, reading glasses on and the book in her lap. He suppressed a comment on how cute she looked with the glasses. After the war Kakashi had cautioned her to use her mangekyou eyes too much as they could cause blindness, and she had used them rarely, but now in age her eyes got worse anyway. Maybe that was just normal for Uchihas.

“They know quite some things about you,” Sayuri said instead of a greeting. “There are so many of your travels, enemies and achievements here. Even the bullet train is mentioned already. Whoever brought these stories to this remote place, they surely admired you.”

Kakashi slipped down under the sheets next to her. “Maybe it was Houki,'' he joked.

“Better don’t tell Miu that then.” Sayuri winked.

He put his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. “Please tell me you are done reading this nonsense.”

Sayuri closed the book and he could hear her put it down next to her. “I don’t think it is as much nonsense as you do, apparently.” She put a hand in his hair again. “I think they summarise your life very well.”

Kakashi hummed. After weeks of sleeping poorly, now, with her by his side again, he felt almost too sleepy to keep his eyes open. “They ignored contributions from others. My friends, my students… you.”

Distantly he heard her turn off the lights as he slipped away into sleep, feeling warm and homely wrapped up in her arms.

“I will leave today,” Sayuri whispered in the morning. The sun had just come up a little and Kakashi needed to find his way back to his own room. “I don’t think you need me here, even with the war coming and now that Naruto is informed help might also be on the way if necessary.”

Part of him wished he could make her stay longer, it hadn’t hit him how much he had missed her before this, but he knew that she was right. The more time they spent together, the more likely would their real identities be uncovered.

“Nanara, thank you for the book!” Sayuri handed the item back to the boy while Kakashi got her rations for the trip ready. “I read it in one night.”

The boy took it and pressed it against his chest. “Why are you leaving already, Yui-san?” He looked genuinely upset. “You promised me to talk about the Sixth Hokage.”

She ruffled his hair in a similar motion as she did with Obito when he was worried about something. “I’m sorry, but I just wanted to check on Kakashi and I think I would just be in the way for what is to happen next.” She winked a little and Nanara’s eyes darkened again.

“Let me tell you, though, the book is very accurate”, she whispered, but Kakashi heard her anyway. “The Sixth Hokage really is that great.”

Kakashi straightened his back out and handed the backpack with food to Sayuri. She kept her eyes on Nanara. “But I think they forgot someone in the narrative. Someone important.”

“Who?!” Nanara’s eyes widened.

Sayuri winked suggestively. “His wife.”

She quickly leaned to give Kakashi a kiss on the cheek and then whispered: “Be home soon” before leaving.

#fanfiction things #nisi turns 30 #kakashiweek2022 #kakashi week 2022 #oc: sayuri #au: ikigai #this is queued i have no idea where i am when this goes live

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fandom-with-no-hope · 11 months

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A trigun fanfic written by my beloved wife.

Warning: Spoilers for Trigun

Just a silly fic I inspired her to write when we talked about the fact that everyone Vash loves would die before he does.

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Again.

Alone again.

You would think that being alive for such a long time would have make it easier, to accommodate to loneliness, but sadly, he was nowhere near the relief of the calm.

The silence resonates through his head, through his heart, and as he walks in the sand, the only things that keeps him grounded are the gun resting on his hip and the cross in his back, the only remnant of his beloved.

It all felt quite strange, how he got used to lives thriving, dancing around him, and acting like he was one of them. But now, the only feeling echoing in his heart is one of a hole, absorbing and consuming any hopes or joy he could’ve had.

It all felt surreal, how such a beautiful journey, such beautiful beings came to an end so abruptly.

Again.

This isn’t like this was the first time, he had to walk alone, or stand there, but now, it all felt different.

Like something was missing.

And he knew very well what that something was, he always knew, since he met them, since he met him, he always knew that he would never feel the same as he ever did.

And still, despite knowing that, he threw himself into it, into all of it, because there was no other way to fulfill his wish, Rem’s wish, and to live his life to the fullest.

But did it have to hurt this bad to live his life this way?

Wasn’t this enough?

He promised her to live her life to the fullest, but at what point was this considered enough? How much did he have to live, to love, to loose and to dream about to be considered done?

As he walks, he wondered if any other being could relate to the feelings he had to bear, all consuming and all overwhelming, but nevertheless his.

What will he do now?

He didn’t even question himself about it, because for him, the present, the past or the future, all of that seemed strange, like all notions of time were never real.

But he knows, that once, he used to know this, used to know this notions by heart, and play wih them as he pleased.

He lived his life from day to day, savored every minute, every second he spent, engraving them in his memories, keeping record of all the things he did, had done, does or will do just in case, one day, he had to leave it all.

And there he was, alone.

He hadn’t left anything.

He stayed right there.

He did everything, loved every second he spent on this planet, every second he spent with them, with him. He didn’t want to leave anything behind, he was ready to stay, right here and there, not to move an inch, if it meant having one more second, one more day.

But despite all his efforts, everything seemed to slowly fade away, like sand falling through his hands, inevitable.

Even if it meant watching him drift away, get older without him, it was okay as long as they did everything together.

But no, he had to be left alone, abruptly, again.

From the moment he drifted away from him, the joy, the desire to live, it all seemed shut down, evaporated, like a fire blown away.

So there he was, walking, alone under the vibrant sun, and even though he had been walking like this for hours, days, years, nothing seemed to hurt as bad as what he had felt that day.

Years after years, the world changes, it doesn’t wait for you to move on, to keep going, it changes without a sign, without a warning and as he stood there, with only the remnants of the memories of the love of his life being the memories and that cross, he decided to straiten up and look at the sky. And right in front of him, like it knew what happened, his moon was right in front of him, full.

Ha.

You’re here my dear.

He then went on to put down the cross, his cross, and closed his eyes, his entire body turned to his moon.

Your smile is still as bright as ever dear.

And then, it hit him, he realized it.

With a low chuckle, he whipped away the tears falling down as the realization struck him.

He was never alone, they were right here, by his side, as they always were and as they always will be, no matter where or when, or how.

He will never be alone again, as long as he remembers everything, as long as he remembers them, as long as he remembers him and the time they spent together.

Opening up his eyes, he smiled at his moon one last time, and sighed as if his burden was finally released closing his eyes for the last time.

A soft humming come out from his lips, soft and calm, and as the roots began to spread from him he realized he finally achieved what he hoped to be for mankind for the first time.

This night, a tree took root in the unforgiving sand of No Man’s land, as big as the biggest skyscraper from July, and allowed others smaller plants, flowers to bloom around him, except for one place, the one where a cross was planted, standing next to the tree, fierce and strong.

#Basically I told her 'what if after the fight against Knives. Vash was all alone and just wandered with Wolfwood's cross.'#I said this AS A JOKE and she said 'ok bet' and wrote this #She said she's gonna post it on AO3 tomorrow maybe. It's her first time writing a fic but it's freaking good. God I love my wife #Anyways Trigun lovers and Vashwood enjoyers. Sorry? Love y'all #Trigun #Trigun fanfic #Trigun stampede #Vash the Stampede #Nicholas D Wolfwood #Vash trigun #Wolfwood Trigun #First time posting a fic here. If you need a trigger warning or smth pls tell me

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sinceileftyoublog · 2 years

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Kendrick Lamar Album Review: Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers

(pgLang / Top Dawg Entertainment / Aftermath / Interscope)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“I choose me, I’m sorry,” Kendrick Lamar repeats on “Mirror”, the final track on his final album for Top Dawg Entertainment. By then, he doesn’t even need to say it. The Pulitzer Prize-winning rapper, who on his previous records advocated on behalf of his community, from his immediate family and friends to Black lives at-large, has spent the past five years feeling the weight bearing down on him. As much as he’s raised a family with his partner Whitney Alford, he’s suffered from sex addiction and subsequent infidelity, described throughout his songs as “lust.” He’s used both therapy and religion, describing his vices in Biblical terms, to help reign in and ultimately overcome his own trauma. Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers is a document of Lamar working on himself in real time. Each track is like a therapy session. As such, it’s the most difficult listen of his career, songs stunningly revealing the worst parts of himself before it gets better.

As Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers starts, Lamar immediately reminds you why he’s at the top of the game, unveiling spitfire rhymes over pulsating piano, garage-like drums, synth arpeggios, and generally minimal arrangements. His words, per usual, demand attention, which is why your eyebrows raise when he speaks bluntly about his troubles. “Next time I fucked a white bitch was out in Copenhagen / good kid, m.A.A.d city tour, I flourished on them stages / Whitney asked did I have a problem, I said, ‘I might be racist’ / Ancestors watchin’ me fuck was like retaliation,” he raps on “Worldwide Steppers”. It only gets more uncomfortable. On the Sampha-featuring “Father Time”, he unpacks his own toxic masculinity as a result of generational trauma and his father’s desire for him to reject emotions in favor of hardness. “When Kanye got back with Drake, I was slightly confused / Guess I’m not mature as I think, got some healin’ to do,” Lamar admits.

But just because untwisting his own mind is personally necessary, it’s not essential for Lamar to present it, unfiltered, as art. The deeply unsettling “We Cry Together” is a screaming match where actress Taylour Paige performatively plays the part of Lamar’s partner. As technically impressive as it is to hear her cry out her rhymes, the song comes closer to matching the pure anger of Eminem’s “Kim” than it does make deep points about hypocrisy in feminism. (He chides his partner for still listening to R. Kelly’s music.) He includes lazy thoughts about cancel culture and conspiracy theories on “N95″, and misguidedly wonders on “Mr. Morale” whether R. Kelly would still have committed his crimes if he hadn’t been sexually abused himself. He gives problematic figures like Kodak Black, who has faced charges of sexual assault, and Summer Walker, who has spread xenophobic information about COVID-19, large platforms. Most egregious is “Auntie Diaries”, where Lamar repeatedly misgenders a transgender relative and drops homophobic “f” bombs as a way to demonstrate his perception of ignorance in the Black community and how it must be overcome. These may be honest thoughts, and that’s okay, but for Lamar to present them as the endpoint on a high profile album is borderline irresponsible.

What’s most frustrating about Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers are its moments of brilliance where you wish Lamar had left it at recognizing the work he needed to do on himself rather than revealing it all. He sets up his journey well, declaring “I grieve different” repeatedly on opener “United In Grief” and cleverly revealing the stakes on “Count Me Out”: “Got six magazines that's aimed at me / Done every magazine, what's fame to me?” On “Crown”, one of many tracks to prominently feature South London artist Duval Timothy, he riffs on Shakespeare and the Bible: “Heavy is the head that chose to wear the crown / To whom is given much is required now.” Lamar’s texts, too, are viewed as sacred, studied in schools just as much as in music publications. But unlike William Shakespeare, Lamar is both popular and globally viewed as genius during his life, something someone imperfect, like all of us, is constantly wrestling. “I can’t please everybody,” he declares. But on Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, that’s a mission statement more than it is a caveat.

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sxtaep · 2 years

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NEGOTIATION - JJK

description: when you’re called in to negotiate with a familiar face, you realise you’d do an awful lot to save your citizens.

pairing — jungkook x female reader

genre — smut

word count — 2.1k

warnings/tags — criminal!jk, detective!reader, dom!jk, sub!reader, hostage situation, mentions of violence, crime, tension, explicit smut, illicit use of a gun, gunplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, ladies & gents), penetrative sex, dirty talk, kinda fast paced tbh

a/n: making this cover was my 13th reason 💀💀💀

“There’s been a hostage situation down at the Royal Bank. Major Crimes want you to be the negotiator.”

Your day at the precinct had just started and you were already being given a pretty hefty task.

“But why me? I’ve never done it before,” you say, slightly confused since you barely had any experience in negotiating or mediating. This would be a first for you.

“Major Crimes claim the hostage-taker specifically asked for you.”

Surely not. You hadn’t disclosed your name to any criminals.. unless someone you knew turned out to be a criminal— God no.

Negotiating with criminals was not easy, especially if they were extremely violent or hostile, a simple conversation would never work. But nonetheless, you accepted, eager to score some points on your job record for a possible promotion.

As soon as you arrived at the scene, you were decked in a black bulletproof vest over your navy button up, sleeves rolled up and your gun secured within the holster around your waist. The bold lettering of the word ‘Negotiator’ was spread across your chest, singling you out from all the other officers on site.

It hadn’t really dawned upon you that you may not make it out alive. This criminal could kill you before you even get the chance to talk, and that probably explained why all your colleagues were getting emotional, wishing you luck and dwelling on the good times you had together.

It wasn’t long before you were escorted into the building, members of the Emergency Services walking you up to the door and ushering you in, closing the door behind you and soon leaving you alone in the building.

Traces of blood, shattered glass and torn up cash was splayed across the floor as you treaded lightly, walked further into the building, pulling your gun out in front of you and taking extra precaution for any sign of the hostages.

After a few general checks around the building, you come across an empty room. You let your guard down a little and entered the room with your gun by your side, but thank God for you and your heightened senses, you were able to make out the figure stood behind you, and you were beyond pissed.

One minute he had a gun to the back of your head and the next you were both pointing your guns at each other’s faces.

“Put your hands in the air, Y/N.”

His voice sounded awfully familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. If only he wasn’t wearing a mask.

You don’t bother to fight back, slowly putting your hands above your head, your gun still in your hand.

“Now put the gun down by your feet,” his head gestures to where you were stood, and being the negotiator, you had to listen to him in order to prove you weren’t playing as a liability to him.

You carefully set the gun down before standing up straight again, hands still in the air before speaking, “If I’m here to negotiate, I’d like it if you could take off that mask.”

A taunting chuckle left his lips and he shrugged, pulling the black mask off his face to reveal his identity.

Jeon Jungkook.

The shock on your face was evident, and Jungkook only found it amusing.

“Miss me?”

You didn’t know what to say. You spent several months chasing him down, but he was always one step ahead of you. Now you were stuck playing negotiator with the one man who made several months a living hell for you.

“Jeon,” you grit, trying not to sound too annoyed.

“Before we talk, how do I know you’re not wearing a wire?”

Your mind stops.

You were wearing a wire under your shirt and the little earpiece connected to it was placed securely in your ear.

It’d be better to let him find it rather than you lie.

You extend your arms out on either side of you, legs spread a little as a sign for him to pat you down.

“Wow, you’re pretty obedient when you’re not holding a gun,” he quips, taking a few steps towards you and patting down the extent of your arms, checking under your sleeves for the wire and any other armed items you could be carrying.

“Shut up, I’m not here for small talk, I’m here for the hostages. Where are they?” You stare up at the ceiling as his hands search all over your body.

“You tryna’ cop a feel, Jeon?” As shameful as it was to admit, your body was naturally reacting to his touch, slight goosebumps growing over your forearms, and the minute he bent down to wrap his hands around your leg, moving them up and down your black pants, you absentmindedly found yourself spreading your legs a little more, to which Jungkook caught on.

“I don’t know, but it looks like you’re enjoying yourself,” he looks up at you for a brief moment, both hands wrapped around your thigh as he moved them higher up, as if waiting for some kind of out-of-character reaction from you, but you didn’t let up.

Now Jungkook was face to face in front of you, his tatted hand landing on your shoulder and forcing you to turn your back towards him. Before you could even protest, he was pulling off the velcro of your bulletproof vest.

“I doubt you’ll need it. I don’t plan on killing my biggest fan,” he taunts, tossing the vest across the room before his hands snake their way under your arms, palms resting over your chest.

Once again, he was patting you down, much slower this time.

Jungkook was bound to feel the outline of the wire under your shirt,his hands skimming down your front, playing coy over your breasts, almost as if he was messing with you.

He doesn’t waste the opportunity to lightly squeeze over your clothed mounds, burying his head into the back of your neck and sighing.

“Is there a reason why you’re making me look for the wire rather than taking it out yourself?” he whispers, shifting his hands down to your stomach and sneaking his free hand under your shirt, feeling the wired material brush between his thumb and index finger.

Bingo.

You quickly grab onto his wrist in a bid to stop him, but Jungkook had already yanked the wire off your body, throwing it across the room with a satisfied smile.

Your last source of safety was gone. You were never gonna make it out alive.

Even though he’d already found the wire, his hand was still under your shirt, gently trailing over your stomach, but you didn’t know why you weren’t stopping him.

“Aw, poor detective L/N is letting me ‘cop a feel’ because she was too busy chasing me down her whole career..” he taunts again, skilfully popping off the buttons of your navy shirt. Before he could pull your shirt off completely, you press your back against him to push him off, walking away once he’d freed you from the cage, which was his body.

“I don’t give a fuck about that, Jeon. Just tell me where the hostages are.”

Jungkook liked you. He liked how determined you were and how stubborn you were. The multiple stand-offs you both had in the past made him grow kind of fond of you, and your body.

Constantly being on the run meant Jungkook never had the time to fuck.

Fucking a detective wouldn’t hurt.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a negotiator? I’m pretty sure you’re meant to meet my demands, before I hand over anything to you.”

You stood there with your arms crossed, staring at the god-awful attractive man in front of you, “Fine. What do you want?”

Jungkook pretends to think, pacing around the room before taking a seat on the worn out chair next to him, his hands toying with the trigger of his gun. “Come here, Y/N. We’re not gonna get anything done if we’re six feet apart.”

Your poor wire was sat across the room, probably unable to pick up anything that was being said from such a low frequency, yet you found yourself approaching him, a little more reserved than before.

“I could think of a few ways you could repay me for the hostages..” he starts, absentmindedly licking his bottom lip and reaching his hands out to grab your waist, pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You hated this.

But then you didn’t.

Oh, but you really did hate this.

Or maybe you didn’t..

“For starters, we can ditch the shirt.” He yanks your unbuttoned shirt off your body, exposing you to the cold of the worn out room.

Jungkook stared down at your cleavage like he’d never seen a woman before. Even if it looked like that, his actions were the opposite.

The gun in his free hand was brought up to your lips, fully loaded with his index finger teasing the trigger.

“Open your mouth, detective.”

Your blood ran cold. One tiny slip-up and he could easily blow your brains out. You didn’t dare to disobey, so you slowly let your mouth fall open, the cold metal of the gun already making its way into your mouth.

“Go on, wrap your lips around it, like how you’re gonna wrap your lips around my cock soon.”

You were doing this for the safety of the hostages. You wanted them out of here, alive and safe. If this was the only way to achieve that, then so be it.

You hesitantly wrap your lips around the barrel of the gun, the metallic taste of the metal taking over your taste buds and you had to resist the urge to gag.

The urge to fuck you with the gun was dawning upon him, but Jungkook was under strict time constraints.

“Hm..” Jungkook tilts his head back a bit, eyeing your form with such need and hunger, the ache between your legs grew stronger. He pushes the barrel deeper into your mouth, watching your eyes widen, “Let’s skip the formalities since you’ve got the whole police force waiting for you outside.”

He pulls the gun out of your mouth, admiring the glistening state of the barrel, taking a few licks of it himself.

He was sickly, and you found that oddly arousing.

Jungkook lifts you off his lap, stripping you of your work attire so you were stood there naked before him. The sight had his cock straining against his pants, and he didn’t have the patience for teasing and foreplay, and within a matter of seconds, Jungkook had pulled his cock out, now standing tall and hard and throbbing in his hold.

You do him the favour of discarding your undergarments, wanting to get this whole thing over and done with, but Jungkook could only mistake your rushed actions as eagerness.

God, you were such a beautiful woman under that atrocious police uniform you used to wear.

“Come sit on my cock, detective.”

This felt so demeaning. You were meant to be a detective for the city, a negotiator for the hostages, and now you were here, giving up your body for the safety of the public.

Thankfully, he rid you of the wire.

You set yourself on his lap once again, your folds sitting flush against the base of his cock. Jungkook could feel you throbbing, and it made him groan.

One subtle movement, and his raging cock had slipped into your tight hole, and before you could erupt a moan, Jungkook had shoved the gun into your mouth again, making you gag.

“Wouldn’t want the whole tri-state area to hear you cry on my cock,” he chuckles, one hand falling down to cup the flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading the plump flesh in his hands.

“Tell me, who’s gonna protect you now, detective? You’re too busy playing hero for a bunch of strangers, you’ve got no one to defend you, how unfortunate.”

You knew he was trying to get in your head, but it wasn’t working. His cock drilling into you was doing the job for him, knocking the air out of your lungs as he mercilessly thrusted into your cunt.

“Stupid, stupid girl. All big and mighty on the field. Tell me, did you avoid arresting me all those times just so you could see me again?”

A lie. You would never let a criminal roam free.

The mess of slick and precum was dripping over his cock, the familiar sounds of squelching, skin slapping, and your muffled moans echoing around the empty room.

“Bet I could kill you, huh?,” your eyes widen, shaking your head in disagreement, and Jungkook could only laugh.

“The gun’s loaded, if you don’t make me cum in the next 5 minutes, you’re going down with the hostages.”

please do not repost my works onto any platforms.

#bts smut #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts oneshots #bts fluff #bts angst #sxtaep

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

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Three’s a Crowd || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: when you come down to visit your boyfriend, bucky barnes, at the wilson residence and see his interaction with sam’s nephews firsthand- you can’t help but entertain the idea of having a family of your own with the super soldier.

a/n: here’s some short and sweet fluff prior to the season finale! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of starting a family? it’s pure fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

“Hey sleepyhead.” You hummed, running your fingers through your boyfriend’s hair.

At the sound of your voice and the gentle touch of your fingers slipping through his hair and brushing against his skin ever so slightly, Bucky opened his eyes to bet met with your figure sitting at his side, staring down at him.

No matter how many times he woke up to see you first thing in the morning with the sunlight highlighting your features, he would swear he was in heaven- utterly consumed with the feeling of pure bliss.

“Hi, doll.” He smiled, his voice still raspy.

At the feeling of his hands moving to lay on either side of your waist you smiled. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, realizing that you had come all the way down to the Wilson’s home when the last place Bucky had left you before going on his mission with Sam was at your shared apartment in New York.

“I missed you.” You shrugged.

“I told you I was coming home today, Y/n.”

“I know, Buck.” You said, now laying your palm against his cheek. “But I heard about everything that happened and I couldn’t wait another day to see you.”

Looking up at you and leaning into your palm that was cupping his cheek, Bucky couldn’t believe how he ever got so lucky as to have you.

Breaking him out of his moment spent admiring you, he heard the sound of Sam’s nephews running into the room, and turned his head only to see them playing with the famous vibranium shield in their hands.

“Hey!” He exclaimed.

Immediately upon being caught by the super soldier, the boys dropped the shield onto the ground, scurrying out of the room, no doubt scared about getting caught with their uncle’s prized possession.

“Look at you babysitting.” You laughed, playfully swatting at your boyfriend’s chest.

Bucky caught your hand midair and scoffed. “I’m not babysitting... it’s just... dangerous... you know?”

“Sure,” You smiled. “Whatever you say, tough guy.”

Grasping the dog tags that were lying on his chest, you gently tugged on the chain and brought his face inches away from yours. Seeing his sleepy, smiling face- you brought your lips to meet his for a soft kiss before pulling away.

“One more?” He asked, quirking his eyebrows.

“Go brush your teeth first.” You laughed, watching as he threw you a fake pout. “Then I’ll see what I can do.”

Although the two of you spent the remainder of the day apart- Bucky training with Sam and you helping Sarah with things she needed done around the property- you came together again on the docks that evening while the Sun began to set over the horizon.

Carrying a crate in your hands that you had assured Sarah wasn’t too heavy for you, you made your way near the boat again, laying your eyes on your super soldier boyfriend for the first time since that morning.

You swear your heart could’ve burst right in your chest, taking in the sight in front of you.

Bucky was stood at the end of the dock, one hand on his knee while he chatted with Sam and his sister beside him. His other arm- his vibranium one- was stretched out and you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as you witnessed Sam’s nephews and other children you hadn’t seen before hanging off of it, laughing to one another in awe about how “cool” his arm was.

With the golden hue of the sunset setting over your boyfriend’s features, you wished you had a camera on you so you could never forget the moment. You could’ve sworn you would’ve stood there for eternity staring if it weren’t for Bucky catching your eye, waving back at you smiling.

Although you couldn’t hear him, you watched as he said something to the kids, gently shaking them off of his arm, before striding over to you.

“Here, let me take that.” He offered, taking the crate from your arms and setting it down on the dock.

Watching as he did so, your mind was still utterly consumed with the image you had just seen in front of you.

“So kids really seem to like you, huh?” You asked.

“What?” He asked, before remembering what he had just been up to. “Oh that?” Bucky asked gesturing back towards where the kids were playing at the end of the dock. “No... they just like the arm, you know?”

As much as you loved your boyfriend, you knew that he was completely naive when it came to the positive effects he had on people.

“Buck...” You cooed, reaching for his hands and pulling his body closer to yours. “When are you going to realize that people like you for you? They think you’re cool! Sure, the metal arm helps, but just admit it babe- kids like you.”

Resting his hands on your waist, you watched as a teasing smirk formed on his face.

“Why are you so obsessed with how kids act around me today?”

As soon as he asked, you began to feel flustered by him not only noticing, but calling you out on it. You hadn't realized you were being so obvious, but you could barely help yourself. Seeing your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, surrounded by kids? You couldn’t help but think of him surrounded by children of your own. All you could think about all day when not engaged in an active conversation with those around you was entertaining the idea of starting a family with your favorite 106 year-old man.

“I’m not!” You exclaimed, playfully swatting at his chest. “Why are you so obsessed with me being obsessed about you with kids? Hmm? Wanna answer that old man?”

Watching as you laughed while teasing him, Bucky couldn’t help but get lost in the moment.

“Buck-” You began.

“You know you look so beautiful right now?” He cut you off.

You bit your bottom lip to try to hide the large smile that was creeping over your face at his compliment. No matter how long the two of you had been together, or how many times he complimented you, he always knew how to make you feel the same butterflies you did the first time you met him.

“Especially with the sunset? You look beautiful all the time, doll, but... wow.” He said.

“Bucky, stop flattering me.” You insisted, running your hands up his chest before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

“I mean it, Y/n.” He said. “You’re the best looking thing on this damn planet.”

Utterly consumed in the moment, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Me?” You asked. “Have you ever seen yourself? I swear I want our kids to look just like you.”

As soon as the sentence slipped out of your mouth, you regretted it. It came out so naturally you hadn’t even had time to think about it before you essentially just confessed to your boyfriend that you wanted to have children with him.

Although you and him had no doubt in your minds that you would spend the rest of your lives together, you understood that now might not have been the best time to bring up such a big life change with both of you only being thrown back into existence half a year ago and him being consumed in his work not only in saving the world, but in saving himself.

Embarrassed, you tried to weasel your way out of his grasp, but he only gripped his hands tighter on your waist pulling you towards him.

“What did you say?” He asked.

“I’m so sorry! Forget I said anything-” You pleaded.

“No, Y/n, stop. Stop apologizing.” He said. “Were you... were you talking about kids all day because you were thinking about... were you thinking about me being a dad?”

As you looked into his eyes, you could see how serious he was and you knew you couldn’t lie to him.

“Yes.”

The two of you stood staring at each other in silence for a few moments and just as you were beginning to grow afraid that you might have ruined everything, you watched as your boyfriend began to chuckle, a light smile playing on his lips.

“What?” You asked. “What is it?”

“Thank God.”

Quirking your eyebrows you pressed again. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” He asked playfully, pulling on your waist to tug you closer towards him. “Do you think I haven’t been thinking the same thing all day?”

“What-”

“Y/n.” He said seriously, the smile leaving his face. “You’ve been taking care of Sam’s nephews all day. Do you think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind? I know... I know I’ve been through a lot... we’ve been through a lot... but I want this with you.”

You could feel your heart swell in your chest, listening to your boyfriend’s words.

“What are you saying, Buck?” You asked.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” He asked, smiling once again. “Okay. Today when I couldn’t tie the kid’s shoelaces because of my hand and you stepped in and did it for me I thought about how good of a mom you would be. You’d be such a good mom, Y/n. I’m a piece of work- I know that- but God you would be so good at it and if I have... you know... mini me’s running around I wouldn’t want anyone else because I know that they would be the most loved and cared for kids in the damn world having you as their mom.”

You once again couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you listened to your boyfriend’s praise. It wasn’t uncommon for bucky to worship the ground you walked on, but for him to give such a compliment regarding a future family of your own, you couldn’t help but feel as though you had been personally escorted to paradise.

Unable to find the words to describe the joy and excitement you were feeling, you spoke the only words you could find it in yourself to say to him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He said.

“I want it all with you too, Buck.” You said, moving your hand to cup his cheeks, “And for the record- you would be a great dad. I know you put on the tough guy look for everyone else, but as the luckiest woman on the planet- I’ve seen the love you have in your heart. You would spoil those kids rotten with love.”

You watched as the very rare instance of blush coated Bucky’s cheeks. Still smiling- so much so it almost began to hurt- you pulled your boyfriend’s face towards yours, allowing your lips to meet his. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss however, you heard a loud whistle, sounding from behind Bucky.

Peeking behind Bucky, you saw Sam standing a few feet away, sleeves rolled up and hands on his hips.

“Hey!” Sam teased. “There’s kids here!”

“Thanks for ruining the moment, Sam.” Your boyfriend grumbled beside you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You watched as Sam, laughing, took a swig of the beer in his hand, the sun setting behind him.

“I’m just messing with you, man.” He said. “Are you two staying tonight?”

The two of you glanced at one another, wordlessly communicating while smiling- both knowing what the other was thinking.

“I think...” You began. “I think we’re gonna start a family.”

When the words slipped out of your mouth, you and Bucky couldn't help but gaze at each other in awe of the situation. You were really going to do this. You were going to start a family with one another. You could hardly believe it, but you also couldn’t be happier than you were in that moment.

In front of the two of you, however, still stood Sam who spit out his beer at the sound of your words.

“Not on my sister’s couch you’re not!”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic

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imaginesfordifferentfandoms · 2 years

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We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

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Prompt - ‘So he calls me up and he's like "I still love you".’

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes could be described with many words - messy and toxic were the two most common descriptors. People never knew if you were together or not, your relationship status changing too fast for anybody to keep up. The two of you were as bad as each other and yet you always found your way back to one another no matter how much time had passed.

Despite it being a bad relationship there were some good parts and those were the memories you held close, the memories that kept sending you back to him. You remembered sitting in the movie theatre with Bucky, his arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you in close as you introduced him to the movies he’d missed out on, whispered words and shared kisses as the movie played on screen. You remembered Bucky’s face as the two of you walked around science museums, Bucky marvelling at the technological advancements. You remembered dancing around the kitchen, the glow of the refrigerator door that had been left open the only source of light in the early morning hours, soft 40s music playing from the record player.

You remembered nights spent up all night worrying about him until you could no longer fight sleep and the absolute joy you felt when you woke up to see him laying next to you. You remembered him waking up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting whilst tears fell from his eyes as new memories from HYDRA resurfaced, you remembered holding him in your arms with his head on your chest, talking for hours until he was able to see past the blur of the Winter Soldier.

There were so many good things to remember that you just wished that it could be like that all the time, you wanted so badly for the fights, the arguments, the screaming to just stop.

But you and Bucky were able to rub each other the wrong way. Nobody made you feel how Bucky Barnes made you feel, never had you felt so happy in your life and never had you felt the need to punch somebody in the face so badly.

“This is it,” You exclaimed, mid argument. You couldn’t even remember what had started this fight, only knew that the two of you were stood in your apartment screaming at each other. “I’ve had enough, just get out!” You said whilst marching to the front door, pulling it open harshly and gesturing for him to leave.

You hadn’t seen him for about a month, he had been on a mission for two weeks and then when he had gotten back he shot you a single text telling you he needed space. Today he finally showed up at your door and things were fine for the first hour but fast as lightening the mood changed.

It always did.

“C’mon doll,” Bucky began but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“Out now.” You said through gritted teeth, watching him roll his eyes but he thankfully did as you said and you took great satisfaction in slamming the door right in his face.

It had been a few weeks since that argument and you hadn’t heard from Bucky since. You were at home when you heard a knock on your door, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as you weren’t expecting anybody.

“Hi baby,” Bucky greeted when you opened the door.

You positioned yourself so you were leaning against the door frame, not quite ready to let him into your apartment yet. You didn’t respond, just raised an eyebrow at him and waited to see what he had to say.

“Listen,” He sighed, “I really miss you and m’sorry for picking a fight with you last time I was here. I won’t do that again, promise.”

With a sigh of your own you nodded your head, letting Bucky slip into your apartment. You knew you were foolish to believe that you and him could work out but there were so many good things that you wanted to hold onto.

However when morning came and it saw the two of you arguing with each other again you knew you were done.

It was like all the fight had suddenly left you, it had left you feeling drained. The constant cycle of arguing, breaking up, Bucky calling you with an apology and love confession, you letting him back in and then starting all over again. It wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t do it.

You sat at the kitchen table listening to Bucky go off. You usually gave as good back as he give but now you were over it. You just wanted him to leave, you wanted to be done with Bucky Barnes and the stress that came with him. This wasn’t a relationship, though it pained you to admit it.

“Say something!” Bucky snapped at you, finally noticing your quietness.

“I’m done, Buck,” you told him softly, not having anything left to give, “I love you, I really do, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m done and I mean it this time, we are never ever getting back together.”

You meant everything you said and it was like Bucky could tell you meant it too as you watched the anger fall from his face. You watched his face as it softened, eyes wide and pleading as he looked down at you, not expecting you to say that.

“No, c’mon doll, don’t do this. I’m sorry, ok, really I am. It’s just that mission was bad and I took it out on you. It won’t happen again, I’m sorry baby.” He pleaded but you just shook your head, eyes filling with tears.

You knew it was the right thing to do but saying goodbye to Bucky for good was so hard.

“You always promise that, you promised it last night and it lasted for a day. I can’t keep having these fights, I can’t keep falling for the bait and screaming at you that I’m right. I can’t keep going with this constant cycle of I hate you, I love you. I’ll always be here for you, you can talk to me whenever, talk to my friends whenever, but we, we’re done Bucky.” You told him and stood up, making your way over to the door.

As you held it open for him you couldn’t help but think back to just how many times you had kicked the man out of your apartment. This was the last time you’d do it, you swore to yourself.

Bucky followed you, his own eyes wet with tears as he cupped your face. You let him brush your tears away and didn’t pull away as he leaned down, softly connecting your lips together. You kissed him back just as gently, tears running down both your faces.

Bucky was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Please don’t do this, baby.” He whispered and you had to take a breath to stop yourself from crying even more.

You placed your hands on his chest, letting them rest there for a moment before pushing him away and turning your head. If Bucky didn’t leave now you knew you’d end up back in that toxic cycle.

“I love you but you need to leave.” You told him, voice barely above a whisper. Bucky went to talk but you shook your head, stopping him before he could. “Please.”

Bucky nodded, choking back words that he knew wouldn’t win you over this time. Usually a well placed apology and a promise to do better was all it took be he could see this time was different. This time he knew he really had to work to get you back.

“I love you too.” He told you quietly as he stepped out of the door, watching as you nodded before closing the door with a soft click. Somehow that hurt more than all the times you had slammed it in his face.

You let your back hit the door, tears falling down your faces as sobs finally left you. At some point you ended up sitting on the floor, tears long since dried on your cheeks and struggling for breath.

You really had meant it this time when you said you weren’t getting back with him. It’d be hard not to fall back into that old familiar cycle but you knew you couldn’t do it anymore.

Weeks passed and Bucky gave you the space you needed, never once showing up at your door uninvited, no texts or calls. He asked your friends how you were and forced a smile as they said you were doing well.

You talked to his friends about him, despite not being with him you wanted to make sure he was ok. Neither of your friends believed this was the end, how could they when you’d broken up and gotten back together more times than anybody could count.

Hell, even Bucky still believed the two of you were getting back together.

That’s why he called you after three months of radio silence, he was so ready to have you back. Usually when the two of you broke up you were back with each other fairly quickly and always at least texted one another.

You watched your phone light up, Bucky’s smile filling the screen. There was that old familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach that always came when he called after so long but you were determined not to fall back into old habits no matter how easy it would be.

It was only with slight hesitation that you answered the phone just before it went to voicemail, willing your voice to stay steady.

“Hi Bucky.” You said into the phone, curling up on the sofa and fiddling with the ends of your shirt.

“Hey baby,” He replied, a smile clear in his voice. “I miss you.”

You bit your lip as the sound of his voice flooded over you, the soft confession making your heart ache.

“I’ve missed you too.” You finally told him honestly.

There was a brief pause of silence before Bucky spoke again.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you said, slightly surprised at how much you meant it. You had been doing good lately, spending more time with your friends, smiling and laughing and not constantly waiting for the next fight. It had been the most stress free three months of your life since you’d started dating Bucky. “Really good.”

“I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart.” Bucky smiled into the phone, “I just wanted to call, wanted to hear your voice. I want to see you again, doll.”

If he had called two months ago with those words falling from his lips you knew you would have given into everything, you knew you would have opened your door to him and started the toxic routine again. Two months ago you were still heartbroken over actually ending things with the man, spending most nights more often than not crying yourself to sleep or partying too much with your friends.

Two months in you had finally started to realise just how good it was to not have Bucky around, not wondering if you would be lovers or enemies that day.

Three months in and you were finally in a place where you didn’t need Bucky. Sure you missed him, missed the good moments, but now you could really see just how damaging that relationship had been on the both of you.

“I love you,” He told you when you didn’t say anything.

Those words usually won you right over, Bucky knew that, but now they were the worst words he could have said. It was like those words had doused you in cold water and you were pulled from your memories.

“Bucky,” You said, thankful your voice was even, “I meant what I said the last time I saw you, we are done, we are never getting back together. It’s exhausting being with each other, you know that. It isn’t fair or healthy for either of us. I love you, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop but being with you is draining.”

Bucky was silent, he had no words. He for sure thought that after a little time apart you’d be ready to welcome him back into your life, ready to try again with him. He’d meant what he said when he said he loved you, despite the fighting and the crying and everything in between, despite the spiteful words and thrown pillows, he loved you.

Why wasn’t that enough?

“Don’t do this, Y/N/N,” he pleaded with you, “Don’t throw us away like this.”

You shook your head, hating that you felt like the bad guy here as tears filled your eyes. This, this is why you couldn’t be with Bucky. You hated feeling like this and the only person who brought out this side of you was Bucky.

“I have to,” You choked out, cursing yourself for showing how much he was affecting you, “Goodbye Bucky.”

And with that you hung up the phone, letting yourself cry one last time over Bucky Barnes.

__________

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 121: Record

"I found some weird box full of muggle stuff," Ron called, carrying said weird box out into the open living room that Hermione and Draco were working in since they had mandatory cleaning on Saturday mornings for everyone who lived in Grimmauld. "I don't even know what these are," he added, holding up flat, black circles with holes in the middle.

"They're records," Hermione replied, glancing up from the cabinet she was working on cleaning out. "They play music," she elaborated.

Ron made a face, "They're probably junk," he replied.

"What are?" Harry asked as he emerged from the creepy closet off of the kitchen, covered in spider webs.

"These records," Ron said, kicking the box with his toe.

"Oh," Harry said, making his way over, "Were they Sirius', do you reckon?"

"It says 'Lily Evans' on the side," Draco pointed out.

"Probably junk either way," Ron said.

Draco Malfoy had spent more than half of his life in love with Harry Potter. He might not have called it love when he was young but the older he got, the more clear it became that he had been a lovesick idiot for most of his life. He'd spent a lifetime memorizing every detail of that face. So he couldn't really be blamed for noticing the split second of hurt that flashed across Harry's face before he nodded, "Yeah. You're probably right. I'll just run them out to the bin."

"Let me," he said before he'd really formed a plan. "I've got all this to take out anyway," he said, gesturing to the box of junk that he'd weeded out this morning. "And we all know that Kreacher has less of a problem with it when I do it."

Harry gave him a little smile that Draco wondered if anyone believed was genuine. "Thanks," he said.

Draco levitated his box and the box of records and headed down toward the kitchen. When he was out of ear shot he murmured, "Kreacher," and the elf appeared.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Hi," he said, giving him a little nod, "Could you help me with something?"

"Anything!" he replied, nodding hard enough that his ears flapped.

"Could you hold onto this box for me?" he asked, gesturing to the box with the records.

"Of course," he said, immediately taking the box and disappearing.

Draco nodded in satisfaction and started plotting how he'd learn enough about records that he could help Harry use his mother's.

(Read more below the cut)

Two weeks later, on another Saturday morning cleaning day, he still hadn't made much progress. Luna had actually been the most helpful but he hadn't any idea where to find a record player.

But as luck would have it, one turned up in the library, tucked in a cabinet behind some very dusty potion vials and a rusted old cauldron. "Kreacher," he whispered.

When he appeared he held out the record player and asked him to keep it with the records.

He felt quite pleased with himself now that he'd found the record player; he was certain that he'd be able to play records for Harry in no time.

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

It took a couple more weeks. Figuring out how to get electricity into the house was no easy feat (but it was easier once he found out that someone, Sirius he suspected, had done it before).

When Harry arrived home that evening, Draco dragged him into the living room, "Draco, what is going on?" he asked, laughing at him as he tried to get him to hurry up.

"I have something for you," he said, nudging him into the room and presenting the record player. "Ta da!"

"Err," Harry said, looking more closely at it, "What is it?"

"It's a record player," he said.

Harry's head whipped around so fast that it made Draco feel dizzy, "What?" he whispered.

"I found it," Draco said, "when I was cleaning in the library. And I thought you might," he shrugged and reached for the box of records, holding it out to Harry, "I thought you might want to listen to them."

The other man looked at him then down at the box in his hands, eyes wide as he reached out a trembling hand to brush his fingers over the spot where 'Lily Evans' was inscribed on the cardboard box. "You," he started before breaking off and covering his mouth with his hand. "I don't know what to say," he whispered.

His heart was full to bursting and he was pretty sure he'd never done anything as good as this in his life. "Would you like to listen to one?"

Harry looked up at him and nodded.

Carefully, he took out the record on the top and slipped it out of it's jacket, "Ella Fitzgerald," he said. "I've no idea who that is."

"Me either," Harry replied, coming closer to watch over Draco's shoulder as he set the record on the plate, turned the player on, and set the needle.

Music spilled forth entrancing them both, It's not the pale moon that excites me, that thrills and delights me, oh no, it's just the nearness of you.

"Wow," Harry murmured, watching the record spin. He turned to Draco, "I can't tell you what this means to me," he whispered. "Thank you."

He shrugged but couldn't quite keep the pleased smile from his face. "You're welcome."

Harry looked back at the record player before looking over at Draco again, "Do you want to sit and listen with me?"

He nodded, "I'd like that very much."

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

It became something that the two of them did together fairly regularly after that. Sometimes they'd sit together and read while they listened to records, sometimes they'd talk while they listened, or catch up on work, or just listen together but it quickly became Draco's favorite pastime.

One Friday night while Ron and Hermione were out on a date, Ginny was away for a tournament, and Luna was working late, the two of them put on a record and ate dinner in the living room, continuing to drink wine while they talked and laughed long after their pasta was gone.

As the Bob Marley album, Exodus, came to an end, Draco stood up and made his way over to the box. "Etta James," he read, "At Last." He smiled and showed it to Harry, "look, she drew little hearts next to the song titles."

Harry smiled that melancholy sort of smile that made Draco ache inside. "Let's hear it, then."

Draco put it on for them and plopped back down on the floor in front of the sofa, his side mere inches away from Harry's, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I like this one," Harry sighed thirty seconds in as he leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "Do you think they used to dance to this one?" he murmured wistfully.

Draco's heart clenched painfully as he was overwhelmed by the sense of loss that Harry must feel constantly. He had to take a slow deep breath before he responded. "Maybe," he whispered back.

The corner of Harry's mouth curled up in a soft smile, "I think they liked to dance," he murmured. "Hagrid gave me a picture of the two of them dancing together when I was at Hogwarts."

"Yeah?" he asked, hoping Harry would say more about that.

Harry nodded, "They looked really happy, you know?" he said. "Like they were the only two people in the world, like they weren't in the middle of a war," he sighed. "I like to imagine both of them dancing with me when I was a baby," he confessed in a whisper, "when I was crying or something. I like to imagine that the love that saved my life was tangible all the time, you know?" he murmured.

"I'm sure it was," Draco said softly.

He leaned over and rested his head on Draco's shoulder and Draco hardly dared to breathe. After a moment Harry said, "Would you dance with me?"

"Yes," he breathed immediately. "Yeah, of course I would."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, sitting up slightly to look at him.

Draco nodded and stood up, reaching for Harry's hand and tugging him up after him. He kept Harry left hand in his right and wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulder, leaving space for Harry's right arm around his waist.

The other man hummed softly, drawing Draco in a little closer and closing his eyes as they swayed around the room. Draco couldn't stop staring; at the way Harry's eyelashes were long enough that they brushed his glasses, at the tiny nearly invisible freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, at the barely visible wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, at his lovely full lips, and the way his stubble looked against his skin.

I love you he couldn't help but think, over and over like it was a personal mantra, like it was the only thing that could keep him alive; he ached with it, with the desire to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him what he really thought of him, to build a life with him, to give him everything that he deserved to have.

Harry's eyes blinked open as the song came to an end, his brows furrowing slightly as he brought his hand up to cup Draco's cheek, "Are you alright?" he asked softly, wiping a tear that had slipped out.

"Merlin, sorry," Draco said, taking a step back to wipe his eyes. "Sorry. It's just your life has been so unfair and when I think about you not really knowing your parents and having to live with your shitty relatives, and-" he choked on the tears.

"Hey," Harry murmured, pulling Draco back into his arms and rubbing his back, "Hey, it's alright."

"It's not alright," he managed.

"Well, no," Harry agreed, "I suppose it isn't. But it's all past now," he said. "Now I have my friends and I live with people who love me and whom I love," he carded his fingers through the hair at the base of Draco's neck. "Ron and Hermione, Luna and Ginny," he swallowed, "you."

"I just wish," he started before breaking off because finishing that sentence would be showing far too much of his hand.

Harry drew back slightly to look at him, "What?"

His eyes were so open, so earnest that Draco couldn't help himself. "I wish you'd let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The other man blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Promise me that nothing changes if you don't like what I have to say," he said, clenching his fingers in Harry's t-shirt.

"I promise. You're one of my best friends, Draco," he assured.

He took a deep breath, "I'm in love with you," he finally managed. "And I just want to love you, all the time. I want to hold your hand, and dance with you, and make you laugh, and surprise you. I want so many things for you-"

"Me too," Harry interrupted. "I'm in love with you, too, I mean."

"Really?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it, his eyes welling up with tears again.

"Oh, love," Harry said with a little smile, wiping Draco's eyes with his thumbs, "Yes, really. Come here," he said, pulling him in closer and swaying to the music, letting Draco cling to him as they moved together.

As they continued to dance, Harry started to tell him all of the things that he dreamed about for the future together. Painting a picture of the beautiful life they could have and after a few minutes, Draco joined in, adding bits of his hopes as well.

They stayed up late into the night, talking and dreaming of the life they wanted to give each other. And every time they fought after that, one of them would get out the record player and they'd dance together and remind each other of the lives they wanted to build.

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

Day 120: Tough | Day 122: Moon

#100 drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry drabbles #fluff #pining #like a lot of pining #boys in love #love confessions #acts of love #this one got away from me #but I sort of love it #getting together #friends to lovers

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