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#I’m tired of family obligations can I move out now pls
acewizard · 3 years
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why does my body refuse to sleep the nights before I need to be up early in the morning
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zachsreaderinserts · 3 years
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c! philza and c! technoblade x reader who has a panic attack
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i can’t even say that im upset with how specific this is bc it just works (also i kinda changed it a lil up for phil’s bc i was inspired to do something)
tw for abuse (mental and physical) and panic attacks
wc: 1,150
C! PHILZA
you normally don’t argue with anyone! in fact, you have a tendency to avoid arguments for the sake of your mental health. and phil was typically a more passive person, so you two had gotten on pretty well.
however, one night you’re late to come home. like, incredibly late. almost three hours pas the time you normally come home.
phil? he’s super stressed. from the loss of wilbur, he’s grown to be more protective of his family and friends and that includes you. his foot would not stop bouncing and he couldn’t help that his head keeps snapping to the clock next to the couch.
the front door finally opened and you stumbled inside, looking deliriously tired. phil shoots up off the couch and meets you before you could start heading towards your room.
“where have you been? i asked techno, ghostbur, and tommy and they all told me they haven’t seen you since you entered l’manberg earlier!”
you looked down, unsure of what to say. you can’t exactly explain what was happening, it would just bring more danger to everyone involved.
so you flounder for the words, not looking phil in the eyes as he waited for your reply. and when you just settle for a simple shrug, he feels irritation build in his chest.
“you’re not even gonna tell me?”
you steel yourself. you can’t let him know. so you look up with a glare and shake your head soundlessly, telling him that you weren’t gonna budge. and phil is now officially pissed off.
at every attempt he tries to pry an answer out of you, you respond with hostility, practically asking him to just drop it.
the fight escalates slowly as you go up the stairs and you turn around just in time as phil gestures passive aggressively at you.
you can’t hear anything, you can’t see anything other than a faint glimpse of a hand hitting you at one point and you crumbled backwards, eyes wide and tearing up.
“pl-- please don’t hit me, i didn’t-- i didn’t do anything, i swear!”
phil recoils backwards at your shriek, watching as you scrambled away from him and into the nearest wall, curling into a ball. 
“dream, pleas-- please, i promise!”
and the sound of a name he was far too familiar with, everything clicks in his head. this has something to do with a certain blonde manipulative mother fucker.
he walked forwards softly and crouches in front of you, noticing your tears and the fact that you’re shaking so hard he could feel the ground moving slightly. he settles his hand lightly on your knee, shushing you when you jump.
“i’m here. it’s only us, and i will make sure nothing ever hurts you. you’re safe with me.”
he keeps repeating the words, until they finally reach your muddled mind and you begin to breathe softer and slower. after five minutes of him calming you down, you lean into his touch and wipe away your tears.
now that he knew you were in the right frame of mind, he didn’t hesitate to lunge forward and pull you into a smothering hug. with your head on his shoulder, he tucked his own into your neck and let out tears of relief.
“please tell me what’s going on.”
how can you say no to that?
you spill out that dream has been threatening you, him, and the rest of his family, and has used it to make you fulfill tasks he felt like he didn’t want to do. you admitted to the mental and physical abuse, watching phil get more infuriated as you said this.
at the end, he pulls you in for hug again and sears that he, tommy, and techno are going to handle this.
C! TECHNOBLADE
you and techno are relatively okay with communication, considering he’s not too into being super vulnerable with you and you’re the same way
but the next few days, you notice that techno wasn’t coming home as often as he used to. he would come late at night, covered in blood and just take a shower and go straight to bed.
obviously, the first few times, you let him go without confrontation. if he wanted to tell you, he can. you weren’t obligated to know everything he does. that’s how your trust works.
but after almost a week of it, you were growing curious and worried. what could he be doing?
one night, you stopped him before he could move up the stairs by grabbing him by the wrist.
“hey, blade, are you alright? i’m worried about you.”
he turned around and looked at you, jaw tensing slightly. that was the first sign he was hiding something from you.
“i’m fine, why?”
you weren’t just gonna take that for an answer and began to pester him the entire way to your hared bedroom. he would respond in short and choppy answers, shaking his head the entire way.
eventually he just snaps out of irritation and whirls around, face contorted angrily.
“just drop it! fucking drop it, it’s none of your business where i go or what i do!”
techno was unaware of this, but when he got angry, his body language got extremely aggressive and defensive.
so when he turned on you with hunched shoulders and eyes glinting dangerously, you stumbled back so hard that you bashed your elbow into the wall.
techno would’ve gone on with his day had it not been for the fear in your face and how quickly you slid down the wall and cradled your head, with muffled begs of him not to hurt you.
he was on knees instantly, awkwardly holding your hands and attempting to ground you and make sure that you were okay. though he was covered in blood, you found comfort in the texture of his hands against yours and slowly eased into his embrace.
by the time you could think clearly again, you found your tears being wiped away and techno hunching over you as if he were protecting you from anything and anybody else.
“i’m so sorry i caused you to react like that.” he hums when he sees you in the right state of mind. “i’m so, so sorry.”
you do your best to comfort him back, telling him it wasn’t his fault. that night was when you unloaded past trauma, telling him about an abusive past that you were trying to move away from
he’s never felt guiltier about anything before.
techno helps you to stand and you both take a nice, long shower together (mostly to get the blood off of you both but also to make sure you’re well cared for) before heading off to bed.
once again, techno is curling his entire body around yours protectively and holding you with such an iron grip that you know nothing bad will ever come to you again.
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I Will Leave You Words- Kaz Brekker
Summary- A young boy and girl, met in the darkest valley, away from each other, to see the stars and moon. When they caught a glimpse of each other, they exchange and left some few words for each other.
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gif is by @crowbrekker​ <3 so.... this is my first kaz brekker fanfic so pls be considerate lmao and my first post in tumblr, for that matter. idk i had this idea in my head so i decided to make a tumblr account in the middle of the night :) fanfic’s inspired by Je te laisserai des mots- patrick watson’s song and I LOVE IT SM AND I NEED ANGST. + i’m still half way of the books so this might be a lil ooc so sorry anyways here we go!! (i changed the age of kaz when they moved to ketterdam so instead he and jordie moved in ketterdam around the age of 5 and not 9)
   What such good lies it was what came out of your mouth. Love, the most unexpected thing for such Grisha like you. A Tidemaker, and a powerful one. Your parents had died when you were a kid, and you were taken to the Darkling’s services. Such good power like yours needs help. He’d told you. You, being a scared and naive girl at the moment, didn’t see the evilness in his grey eyes, and you let him train you. For years you were in his army, fighting.
   But you wouldn’t forget your life before your parents had died. You were all living in Ketterdam, and it may not be the best place to live when you are a runaway Grisha, but it was alright for you, it’d felt like home, or how you define home is.
   Your parents were runaway Grishas; Inferni and Heartrender. They did not want to be a part of the war, and so they run, ran with their powerful Tidemaker child, you because they knew Darkling would want you to be in his side if he ever finds you, and that will certainly not be happening as long as your parents breathe.
   While you were staying in Ketterdam, your family had lived in a small apartment, inside the shadows where no one can find you easily. You weren’t allowed to go out seeing as Ketterdam was dangerous, and your parents were the only ones to go out to get some money and food.
   You obliged their orders and stayed in your apartment. The apartment was small, but it was still neat for one to live in. Whilst your apartment was located on one of the darkest alleys of Ketterdam, your apartment was tall, yet small, enough that you could see the stars twinkling underneath the shining moonlight, You’d rest your little cheeks on your smalls window and stare at it, the longing, sad stars reflecting back on your kind and tired eyes.
   And then, all of the sudden, you had found a boy, lost and scared, on the alleys of your apartment. You were fast and logical enough to hide underneath your table; Remember, my child, Ketterdam and its people is not one you would trust. This man was a stranger and was probably just lost. So she hid.
  She stayed there until the boy seemingly climbs to the top of the others apartment roof; using its back stairs. There the boy sat quietly and comfortably, watching the stars. You blinked, why would a young boy, your age, climb up one rooftop just to watch the stars?
  You never knew why, but the boy’s name was Kaz Brekker, and his mother would sometimes take him on top of the highest grounds near their farm to watch the shooting stars. He seemingly turns around when you were peaking out the window, staring at him in awe.
   He’d stared back, and he had smiled at you. You froze and felt your cheeks hit up as you subconsciously. closed your windows and flopped on your small bed. 
   That was the start of the nights you’d see him. And you kept seeing him.
    Je te laisserai des mots     I’ll leave you words
   For over the years, he’d go to the alley of your apartment, to watch the stars. You guys were now 8, kids who met at 5, and you started to interact with each other for over 3 years. You’d been able to sneak out when your parents weren’t home, and lay a note on the ground of the rooftops, and wait until the unknown boy would be there, and he, too, would leave you a note of words and poems and dreams.
   “Do you like the stars, too?”   “Stars are wonderful, don’t you think?”   “Yes! I’m Y/N L/N!”    “Well, hello, I’m Kaz Rietvield.”
    Every wakening of the breezing nights, you kids would interact with each other by sending little notes to each other, every night in your 3 years of friendship. You, still yet not allowed to explore the world and was only ever inside your apartment, would send him waves and smiles that could light up the world in distance. He’d blushed, look back at the stars, and would read your letters. Your smile could light up the world, seeing as it lit up his life.
  Living in Ketterdam as orphans weren’t easy. Jordie Rietvield, his beloved brother he’d told you about in one of his letters, was going back and forth to jobs, just to keep them alive. Jordie had sent Kaz off to school as he works. Kaz, after schools, would go sit by the rooftop right opposite where Y/N’s window is and would leave her notes about his day.
   Everything was alright in their little world. Until it wasn’t.
   Y/N’s parents were dead. They caught the Queen’s Plague. It seems as though Kaz Rietvield and Jordie Rietvield had, too. The last time she’d seen them was when they were taking their bodies out on the ocean.
   You’d cried. He was dead. Her friend from the other sides of the stars and darkness was dead. 
   You snuck off a ship headed towards Ravka, and when you were sent off to Keramzin, you had been tested as a Grisha and was taken to Os Alta, where they trained you in combat and how to use your Tidemaker magic- or science- or whatever, you never really cared. As for Darkling, he’d become your mentor, like a father. He’d tell you stories he uses to know when he was a kid and will help you in your Tidemaker skills.
    En sous de ta porte     Underneath your door
   You were living a good life, but you never forgot the face of one dead person. Kaz Rietvield. You’d still send letters on Ketterdam, even if it was pointless to send letters to a dead man. You always addressed it to that apartment and made sure the letters were sent. You were being crazy; sending notes to someone who would never. . . no, who could never, again, read your letters, your stories, your dreams, and the stars.
   After the wars of Ravka, you travelled around the world, in disguise, still. You is still yet to trust everyone after what happened to the Darkling. After you went to different places of the world, your last destination was Ketterdam, the home of the lost, the home of the stars, and your home.
   En sous de la lune qui chante    Underneath the singing moon
   Whilst you were in the ship headed towards Ketterdam, you were looking at the sea, where your parents’ and a certain young boy’s body now lied within. You slowly bent down, the tip of your nails touching the seawater as you started to play with it, tears forming on your eyes. You were in the middle of the ocean, above was the moon, and you started singing for the lonely, peaceful moon.
   It wasn’t great to be back on the sea of the dead beloved ones.
   When you arrived at Ketterdam, the first thing you had noticed was it was darker, now as dark as the once alley of your apartment where you- Again, there it was again, thinking about the dead. Everything seems to remind you of him.
   And so, you went straight to that alley of where you lived, seeing it pitched black. Of course. You’d grinned. You looked up at the starry sky and see the twinkling eyes you once dreamed of seeing again in your Ravka days. It feels good to be back.
    Tout près de la place où tes pieds passent     Near the place where your feet pass by
   You stayed in the middle of that alley, not noticing a dark shadow watching you over your apartment’s roof. That shadow seemingly furrowed their eyebrows when you decided to walk to the stairs of your neighbors' house, where you dreamed of going to just to see a certain boy.
   Because of the dark, starry nights years ago, you never truly saw what he looked like, but you knew he had ebony hair, and a smile you will never once forget.
   When you arrived, you saw that your letter wasn’t there, and started to look everywhere, eventually climbing on the rooftop. There it was in front of you, the most beautiful shooting stars you’d ever seen. Wow, you thought. This was the best view of the stars in Ketterdam, no wonder he chose to pick this spot. You smiled to yourself, looking at your apartment’s window, seeing it empty. You smiled sadly, imagining your old self looking back at you, the orange light behind you making your whole body more noticeable. And then you realized, that boy knows how you looked like, but you don’t even know how he looks like.
   You eventually left that valley. You decided to go to the place where they delivered letters around the world until you passed a club, a dark but loud club.
   The Crow Club.
   The Crow Club. That’s a funny name, you’d thought. You went inside and heard people gambling, drinking, and just having fun. You smiled to yourself, even in that pain and suffering you felt and saw 2 years ago, in the war, you were still the girl you once were.
   You decided to go to the bar side of the club and ordered a drink. You tied your magical hair in a low ponytail as you waited for your drink until a Zemeni man had appeared beside you.
   “And what’s a pretty lady doing here, all alone?” The Zemeni tried to flirt with you, adjusting his coat and ordering a drink.
   You smiled kindly at him, taking your drink as you look at him, “Thanks for the flattery, Zemeni. Y/N.” she said.
   The boy smirked at you, “Jesper Fahey, at your service.”  he winked playfully again. You did not notice five sets of eyes looking directly at you and one boy whose eyes stayed on yours for the rest of the night.
   He remembers. He remembered all of it. Your letters. Your dreams. Your hair. Your smile. Your eyes. The stars. . . all of it. He didn’t need a reason, but when it comes to you, he had every reason why you were the most amazing and spectacular girl ever.
   His crows found your letters scattered on Kaz’s table when they were planning their Ice Court Heist, and he was forced to tell them who you were, (after some death glances and threatening threats.) He remembers it all like it was yesterday.
   Kaz Brekker also remembers that day, when he was alone in the sea, the body of his brother dead, as he thought of you to keep him calm, as he thought of you. . . as he made you his reason to live.
   When he was back ashore, Jordie had haunted him, and he couldn’t go back to you anymore, not knowing you had already left. And so, years later, when he’d finally become Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel, he came back to that dark alley, seeing all your letters from Ravka.
   Caché dans les trous de temps d’hiver    Hidden in the holes of wintertime
   He kept all of it. Hidden. Safe. It was his one memory of you, and if that letters got destroyed, you would only be living in Kaz’s head, full of memories of Jordie and revenge, and he couldn’t bear to make that happen.
   Kaz never replied. You were safe. Alive. And that is what he wants.
   Until he saw you in the bar, until his brown eyes looked into your Y/E/C’s. Until he saw you, truly, not the girl hiding behind her window. Until he saw you close. Until you were finally there.
   And yet, Kaz still felt like you were stars and oceans away from each other. Maybe it was always like that. Darkness and distance in between you and him. Maybe it was bound to happen, either way.
   But Kaz didn’t want to believe that, and he actually convinced himself that he was cursed, never to loved, and to be loved. The memories of Jordie came flooding in, the water drowning him again.
   Until you looked back at him with that smile of yours he used to remember. One that reminded him of the stars. One that reminded him of a boy that once loved the stars and one girl who also loved the stars.
   You furrowed your eyebrows at him, and Inej Ghafa, his wraith, who was sitting across from Nina Zenik, planning the heist, looked at the frozen man on the stairs.
   She smiled softly; she knew you. Kaz would always send her to get some important letters of his on a dark alley, where you were an hour ago, and she saw you.
   Kaz was still looking at you. And you were looking at him. Now, the water was gone, Jordie’s haunting eyes were gone, and it was just you. And your wonderful smile.
    Et quand tu es seule pendant un instant     And when you’re alone for a moment
   Unbeknownst to you, you didn’t know he was the infamous Kaz Brekker, named like a boy you once knew, Kaz Rietvield, but you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need you to know that. Kaz Brekker would fall if you left him again, and so, he approached you after composing himself.
   He was Kaz Brekker and you were Y/N L/N. Not Kaz Rietvield and Y/N L/N. 
  Kaz promised to himself he would send you notes and letters, but he couldn’t find himself to do so. He didn’t want you seeing the boy who had once loved the starry sky, now a monster full of revenge. A greedy man of power and money.
   He wanted you to remember that boy you met years ago to be the same boy. Kaz Rietvield was dead, Brekker wasn’t.
   “Would you leave me words, too? ‘Cause I feel like I’m the only one contributing to this friendship.”   “I promise, then. I will leave you words as you do.”   “Hooray! Now, look at the stars! It’s a new one! The brightest!”
   I will leave you words. You and Rietvield promised each other, but not Brekker. Oh, no. This was another love story to tell in another lifetime.
   Embrasse moi    Quand tu voudras
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natrogersfics · 3 years
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After All - Chapter 1/5
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Cover art by @faith2nyc​ Read on AO3
​In the history of work-life balances, The Daily’s has to be the most bizarre of any company, and Natasha knows that it has nothing to do with the reasonable work hours Pepper is a stickler for implementing. One would truly be hard-pressed to find another work environment where the people get along so seamlessly. Sure, they have their disagreements, and their instincts are always to engage in debate rather than shy away from it, but for the most part, the second the clock strikes five p.m., all spats are forgotten in lieu of brainstorming which watering hole to head to (Dalton’s, always Dalton’s).   
To say that her coworkers are like family seems like a banality on the surface, the type of line an HR Department would print in the welcome packet for a new employee before their first day on the job. But as she stands by the doorway of Tony and Pepper’s living room, watching the very people she works with on a daily basis joyously mingle with members of her actual family, she does not know how else she could possibly define them. These people are the best of the best in the respective subjects, their combined accomplishments the envy of anyone with even a scintilla of ambition to succeed in the media. And yet here they are, holding plates filled with rainbow cake and sporting unicorn party hats, all because these happen to be her daughter’s latest obsession and they’re all powerless to deny her – especially on her first birthday.
In some ways, she knew they would be fond of Isabel, but she never expected them to adore her quite like this – for Thor to bring her a strawberry cupcake every eleventh to celebrate each new month of her life, or for Stephen and Christine to insist that they come over so the latter can personally perform routine checkups, or for Tony to customize a double stroller for when he takes both Isabel and Maria to his workshop. What’s more, they’ve all rallied around her as well, none of them ever more than a text message away when she’s in need of anything, which proved invaluable as she navigated motherhood for the first time. 
This outpour of love from a group of people who are not by any stretch obligated to go so above and beyond is an anomaly, she knows. It’s going to take some kind of miracle for her to find another group of genuinely kind people who would go up to bat for her and Isabel. And it’s that very thought that wrests the sadness she’s been trying to keep at bay all day as she ponders how this may be the last time in a long while that they will gather like this. 
“Are you sure you have to go?”   
The question breaks her out of her reverie, and she turns to see Darcy next to her, holding up two forks in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. She chuckles, reaching for the other fork as they both take a bite and moan at the perfection that is Sarah Roger’s baking. “I already paid the security deposit on the flat we’re staying in,” she says. “So that’s going to be a yes.”
“Flat, huh? Look at you, getting in on the lingo,” Darcy teases before groaning. “But until your butt is officially across the pond, it is an apartment. And it is take-out, not take-away. Which, coincidentally, we happen to have the best of here. Where are you going to get your Nom Wah fix in London, Nat, huh? Where?”
“They have a Chinatown there too, last I checked,” she counters, laughing when Darcy rolls her eyes. “Besides, I have to go anyway on the account of me being out of a job. I do have a child to support, you know.”
“First of all, the only reason you’re out of a job is because you got a big promotion,” Darcy says matter-of-factly. “Stupid corporate ladder.”
“Big words coming from the newly minted editor of The Daily’s International section,” she says, suddenly brimming with pride.
“Only because I learned everything from you,” Darcy says quietly before sighing in concession. “Ugh! You better not forget us when you’re out there being a hotshot editor-in-chief. And you better make sure Boss Baby doesn’t forget who her favorite is!”
“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” she says, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of the first person to truly become her constant at work. “You are many things, but forgettable is not one of them.”
“Yeah, true,” Darcy concedes easily, causing them both to laugh.
“Speaking of the Boss Baby though,” she says, checking her watch. “It’s almost her bedtime, so I better go make sure none of her grandparents have let her eat all the icing.” 
“I think what you really have to be concerned about is an aunt and uncle helpless over her charms,” Darcy says, smiling knowingly. “Last I saw her she was in the kitchen with Bucky and Wanda.”
She’s about to thank her, but before she can, Darcy’s already running towards the center of the living room at Thor’s roaring announcement that a game of Pictionary is about to commence. For a second, she allows herself a moment to watch the pandemonium unfold as her friends – her fully grown adult friends, no less – vie for the positions of team captains. “Hooligans,” she says, shaking her head fondly before making a beeline for the kitchen. She pokes her head in, finding Bucky and Wanda poring over the cheese and cold cuts selection laid out on the island before knocking on the wall to get their attention. “Any of you know where Izzie is?”
“Nat!” Bucky exclaims, “you have to try this cheese. It smells like something died in it, but it’s so damn delicious!”
She tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth tugging up in amusement. “Maybe later, Buck.” 
“Ignore him. He’s inhaled too much cheese,” Wanda says over the rim of her wine glass before pointing upwards. “Steve took her upstairs for a diaper change.”
“Thank you,” she says, turning to leave. She makes it to the stairs, climbing it two steps at a time until she reaches the top and stops in front of the framed collage of Maria on the wall. As her eyes scan the plethora of pictures, she can’t help but smile. She’s seen this frame countless times before, can practically name where each photo was taken and how old her goddaughter is in every one of them, but for some reason, she finds herself lingering before it, as if she needs to recommit everything to her memory lest she forget. She gives herself another minute, and with a sigh, forces herself to look away and walk down the familiar path to the nursery.  
“Do you know how much Daddy loves you?”
Steve’s words stop her dead in her tracks, and through the door left cracked open, she catches a glimpse of him sitting on the rocking chair with Isabel across his lap, their daughter staring up at him as he feeds her a bottle. The sight of them gazing affectionately at each other punches the breath out of her lungs, and it’s only by instinct that she moves out of view, pressing her back against the nearest wall.
“I don’t even know if I have the right words to describe how much,” she hears Steve confess with a little chuckle, to which Isabel coos, and in her heart of hearts, she knows that she should not be eavesdropping on this moment – it isn’t hers, and yet, she finds herself unable to move. “I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t understand me all that well yet, so I have some time to figure them out...” He sighs, long and winded. “Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I ever will. There couldn’t possibly be words in existence that will encapsulate how much I love every little inch of you.” Steve’s voice cracks by the end, followed closely by a sniffle. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, fig. And I’ll call you all the time, so please don’t forget Daddy while you’re over there, okay? You’re my whole world, baby girl…”   
The hallway and the stairs and the foyer are all a blur as she bolts, the air around her suddenly too thick. She makes it out the front door, but by the time she gets to the bottom step of the brownstone, her legs feel too heavy to keep herself upright and she slumps down, placing her head in her hands as the Summer night’s air blows by and the sound of the traffic on the Upper East Side rings ambiently around her. She sighs. Steve’s words weren’t even meant for her to hear. It shouldn’t affect her this way – shouldn’t hurt her this way – especially when they’re full of adulation for their daughter. And yet, it’s as if she’s taken another dagger to her already crippled heart.
“Natasha.”
She looks up in time to see her mother take a seat next to her, and in the warmth of Melinda’s embrace, she finally lets the tears fall. “Would you believe me if I said I was just tired?”
“Oh, Nat,” Melinda says, reaching over to thumb her tears away. “You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”
“Only I do,” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost immediately. “He’s had a year. Heck, he’s had more than that to say something, give me a sign.” Melinda’s expression softens at her words, and she knows that it’s because despite offering her a way out only moments ago, Melinda’s one of the few people who knows she’s right. It’s been too long since that fateful night she asked Steve if she had a reason to stay, only to be met by silence. It was damning then, and it’s even more so in the time that’s passed since they’d agreed to postpone both her move to London and the implementation of their custody agreement until Isabel turned one. If he wanted her, if he felt even a fraction for her of what she felt for him, he had countless opportunities and ample time to say so. But now here they are, their daughter past her first year of life, and a day away from each of them getting her six months out of the year. She shakes her head. “He loves her so much. That’s more than I could have ever asked for, and in some ways, that’s always been the deal.” She turns to Melinda, smiling sadly. “I can’t keep hoping anymore. I have to move on.”  
With a sad smile, Melinda drops a kiss to her temple. “Okay.” 
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In the months leading up to this day, there were countless times Natasha had caught herself imaging how it would play out. She expected a tear or two to be shed – Sarah and Melinda being the most obvious culprits – but at the very least, she thought the massive crowds at JFK would prove a compelling enough reason for them to not only keep it together, but also to keep their goodbyes short and sweet. But here, on the tarmac in Teterboro, with the Stark Industries jet before her and her entire family close by, she realizes that this is quickly morphing into her worst-case scenario – drawn out goodbyes, too many sad eyes, and her heart feeling all too heavy in her chest.
“You tell T’Challa that I will never forgive him for this.”
Pepper’s words elicit a laugh from her. “Oh please,” she says, scoffing even as she wraps her arms tighter around Pepper and pretends not to feel the warmth of the tear that drips down to her shoulder. “If you were at all capable of holding a grudge, the three of us would’ve stopped being friends long ago.”
“That was before he plotted to steal my best friend from me,” Pepper mumbles, making them both laugh. “Do you realize that this is the first time since college that we’re not going to live within a subway’s ride from each other?”
“We’ll drop by for Christmas,” she offers quietly, unable to trust that her voice won’t falter if she dares answer the question directly. Over Pepper’s shoulder, her eyes quickly glance at the group by the stairs of the jet – Sarah, Nick and Melinda, and Bucky and Wanda all gathered around Steve and Isabel – and she finds herself relieved that she had already said her lengthy goodbyes to most of them last night. She takes a step back from Pepper as she says, “These next six months will fly by.”
“Alright, alright,” Tony interjects as he comes up next to them with Maria on his hip. “Let’s not act like there’s not going to be a Stark Industries emergency in the London office in two weeks that only the CEO can solve.” He eyes Pepper and then her knowingly before nodding towards the jet. “Best not to misuse company property more than we already are.”
She rolls her eyes, breaking away from Pepper’s embrace completely. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one who insisted on this whole spectacle?”
“You were gonna fly commercial,” Tony says, his expression twisting in disgust. “We’re not savages, Red.”  
Her lips quirk up at that. To anyone else, Tony’s quip drips with arrogance and reeks of privilege from a life defined by exuberant wealth. But she’s known the man for over a decade now, and though most of the time his tact leaves much to be desired, she understands him enough to know how to read between the lines. Their friendship has never been defined by heartfelt tête-à-têtes, and part of her is glad that he doesn’t seem keen on starting that now. Nevertheless, she knows that making sure she and Isabel are nothing short of exceedingly comfortable on an already difficult trip, is Tony’s ultimate way of showing just how much he cares. 
“Come here,” she says, stepping forward to engulf both him and Maria in a hug.  
“Oh, we’re doing this?” Tony says. “Okay, we’re really doing this.” She ignores him, but it only takes a beat before she feels his free arm wrap around her as well, squeezing back. When they pull away, he has his signature smirk on his face. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She chuckles just as she drops a kiss to Maria’s forehead. “Bye sweetheart,” she tells her goddaughter before turning back to Tony, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does that list even exist?”
Tony winks at her, prompting Pepper to shake her head at the both of them. 
“Indeed, it does not,” Pepper says, linking arms with her. “Come on.”
The pit in her stomach that she’s been trying to ignore since she got up this morning rears its ugly head once more. It’s for the best, she reminds herself. These four words have become her mantra ever since she uttered them that night in Steve’s office when she had first given him the custody agreement, and though her heart had never felt as eviscerated as it had in that moment, the fact that she’s only minutes away from jetting off to a different continent is testament to the fact that there’s truth in it. That, despite all that she’d hoped would change, this is how their lives must play out if they are to make their arrangement work. She sucks in a breath at the thought, at the finality of it all, and as she huffs out, the reassuring squeeze from Pepper grounds her enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Sarah is the first to notice them as they near, and she’s quick to offer her a warm smile before turning to Steve, whispering in his ear and giving Isabel one last kiss. 
“Be safe, darling,” Sarah says when she makes her way over to her, cupping her face in her hands. “And please, don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t,” she says, smiling earnestly. “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah’s barely stepped away from her when she feels two pairs of arms wrap around her simultaneously, and she can’t help but laugh when she finds herself sandwiched between Nick and Melinda. “Sucking up all my oxygen here, guys.”
“Call us the second you land,” Melinda orders. “And not a second later, you hear? We have your flight plan.”
“Or by God, I will order an F-35 to come find you,” Nick adds.  
She scoffs. “You’ve been saying that since I was sixteen.”
“It was true then and it’s even truer now that you’re taking my grandbaby with you,” Nick says, eyeing her pointedly. “Don’t try me.”
“Fine,” she says, chuckling softly. “We’ll FaceTime you the second we land. How’s that?”
“Excellent,” Melinda says, hugging her tightly once more. “Our girl, we love you so.”  
“Love you too,” she says to each of them. Wanda and Bucky are last in line, and as she accepts a hug from the former and a kiss on the cheek from the latter, she begins to make her way towards the landing of the stairs where Steve stands cradling a sleeping Isabel. She stops a foot short of them, tucking her hands into her pockets and mustering the best smile she can. “We should get going.”  
Steve nods, turning to nuzzle the top of Isabel’s head. “Be a good girl for momma, okay?” he says, and she has to avert her gaze elsewhere at the way his voice breaks at the end. “Daddy loves you so much, fig.”
Just as she had the night before, she finds herself once again an intruder in a moment she has no business being a part of as she listens to Steve whisper sweet nothings to their daughter. But despite the feeling of being so unwelcome, so unwanted, she swallows it all down along with the lump that’s formed in her throat in an attempt to keep it together. It’s only when she hears Steve mutter a soft okay that she dares look back, watching as he steps forward to place Isabel into her arms. 
“Shh,” she says gently when Isabel stirs at the movement, carefully shifting her so she can rest her head on her shoulder before turning to Steve. “I’ll text you when we land and again when we get to our flat, so you know she’s safe.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he says, letting a beat pass before shaking his head. “Natasha…”  
For a moment, she can only stand there, letting his utterance of her name hang in the air between them. Where she finds the courage to look in his eyes, she isn’t certain, but she does. The pain in them is clear as the sky above them, but for whom it’s for, she can only surmise. Surely, for being separated for the next six months from their daughter, who’s oblivious to the loaded silence between them as she slumbers peacefully against her. And though she knows she shouldn’t, she lets herself wonder – wish, really – if only for a fraction of a second, and perhaps for the last time, that maybe that pain is for her, too. And that maybe, just maybe, now he would say the words she’s been longing to hear.
Steve sighs, and she holds her breath as he leans down to kiss her cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, Natasha Romanoff.”
Her eyes fall shut at that, and though he’s close enough that she can smell the familiar scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin, they might as well be continents apart already. “Thanks,” she whispers, giving him a final nod before she turns to ascend the stairs.
There’s only the whirr of the jet taxiing towards the runway as she settles further back against the softness of the leather seat. Across her chest, Isabel sleeps peacefully, her curls glowing russet in the sunlight streaming through the window and her weight a welcome distraction from the hollowness burrowing deep inside of her, settling in. By now, she realizes, the sensation is just an old friend. She sighs, running her hand up and down Isabel’s back, holding her closer. “It’s just you and me, fig.”
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I’m not freaking out, you are!
Steve’s brow arches as he reads the words in the blue bubble, and he does not waste time pressing down on the file attachment, eagerly waiting for the video to take up the entirety of the screen. Once it does, Isabel comes into view, sporting a gray Dodgers jersey with her hair pulled up in two symmetric pigtails as she clings onto the edge of a coffee table. The sight pulls his lips up into a beaming smile, all but threatening to split his face. 
“Come to momma, fig,” he hears Natasha encourage in the background. “You can do it!”
Despite Natasha’s message alluding to the fact that this had been a fruitful exercise, he finds himself holding his breath as he watches Isabel blink, her eyebrows furrowing in suspicion as if she’s contemplating her mother’s words. On the lower part of the screen, her foot inches forward ever so slightly, though whether it is to test the waters or tease her mother, he can only guess. But then her dubious expression fades as quickly as it had come, making way for a toothy grin, and then his eyes widen as he witnesses her take one wobbly step and then trot the rest of the way.
“Yay!” Natasha cheers, eliciting an elated giggle from Isabel, and he can’t help but laugh along as the camera flips to show Natasha with Isabel now on her lap. “We’re walking!”  
He types back a quick Yes! followed by But also, uh oh! 😬 before pressing play on the video once more, this time watching Isabel walk on her own without the nervousness that had plagued him only moments ago. It seems ridiculous – though he’s willing to bet that most parents feel the same way – but he feels pride surge right through him. Isabel was just beginning to get the hang of walking while her hands were being held up during her first birthday, and now, less than six months later, she’s already cruising along by herself. Time, he muses, truly does zip on by.
Placing his phone down on the counter, he stops to ponder his last thought. If there’s one thing he’s come to realize about time, it is that it can be a real conundrum – moving faster than you wish it would when you least want it to and slowing down to an agonizing crawl when you’re all but begging for it to fly. Only, these two facets seemed to be happening simultaneously in the last six months since his custody agreement with Natasha had taken effect. On one hand, Isabel is growing and changing faster than he can keep up with, becoming her own person with every day that passes. But at the same time, it feels as if his turn to have her, to witness these milestones unfold in real time, is an eternity away.
“I don’t like that face. Not one bit.”
He turns towards the sound of the voice, chuckling when he sees his mother walking into his kitchen, a box from her bakery in hand. “So much for a face only a mother can love.”
“Of course I love that face,” Sarah says, setting the box and her purse down on the island before hopping on the stool next to his. “I made it.” Sarah snickers as he rolls his eyes. “What I don’t love is when it’s all broody and scrunched up” – she points to his head – “means something’s going on up there.”   
With a sigh, he unlocks his phone, opening the video back up before pushing it towards Sarah. His mother squeals upon seeing her granddaughter, picking up the device to get a closer look. 
“She’s gotten so big!” she says, her eyes on the screen. “Goodness, she’s walking. Really walking!”
“She finally fit into the jersey Thor gave her before she was born, too,” he adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now it’s just right.” It’s probably the tone of his voice – crestfallen, though he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way – that causes Sarah to look at him, her eyes rueful. He waves off her concern. “I’m fine, ma. Some days are just harder than most. Technology’s great and all, but I still feel like I’m missing so much. And now...”
Sarah reaches over to place her hand over his. “I’m sorry they’re not going to make it for Christmas, darling.” 
“It’s fine,” he repeats. While he isn’t due to have Isabel until after New Years’, with some cajolery from Melinda, Nick, and Pepper, Natasha had agreed that she and Isabel would come visit for Christmas. That’d been the plan even before they left for London almost six months ago, and if he’s being completely honest, it’s been the day he’s been counting down to since. But then an emergency at Natasha’s work came up, preventing her and Isabel from traveling until after the holiday and successfully upending everything he had been looking forward to. He sighs. “It’s still technically Natasha’s time with her and she was being really magnanimous about sharing Izzie for Christmas anyway.” He swipes his hand out, as if to dismiss his melancholy, but even that is half-hearted. “I was just really looking forward to it, you know? Bucky already bought her a beanie with Reindeer antlers that light up and I thought maybe she could still see the Rockefeller tree.”
“Still might,” Sarah says, to which he gives a non-committal nod. “They don’t take it down right away anyway. But have you maybe considered asking Natasha if you can fly there for Christmas?”
“What?” he nearly spits out the word in surprise, tilting his head to the side as he looks at his mother like she’s grown three heads. “What’re- I mean, what in the world makes you think she’d agree to that?”
This time, it’s Sarah’s turn to look at him incredulously. “You two have been getting along great these past few months, haven’t you?”
“We text about Izzie,” he says, “and yes, Natasha’s there when we FaceTime too, but that’s because she has to hold up the phone on the account of Izzie wanting to put everything in her mouth. That is not the same as getting along great.” He sits up straighter, shaking his head. “Besides, spending Christmas together? In London? That’s not even remotely in our-”
“Oh please,” Sarah interrupts. “I don’t care what you two have written down in your contract-”
“Custody agreement,” he corrects.
“Semantics,” Sarah counters. “Like it or not, you and Natasha are forever bonded by the beautiful baby girl you two brought into this world. That makes you family, and families spend Christmas together.” Sarah shrugs, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and seemingly deliberating her next words. “Unless…”
He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. “Unless?”
“Steven, hon, you know I don’t like to pry,” Sarah says carefully. “But ever since… well, okay. I suppose I thought that maybe things between you and Natasha… especially after Izzie was born… I thought maybe you two would give it a chance. But then nothing happened, and I said I’d leave you two to it. It’s your lives. But now she’s over there, making a life for herself and you know what? Good on her. But then I see you, and I… It just seems to me like you’re stuck. And I feel like I’ve seen this before, so I have to ask… Do you maybe still have feelings for Natasha?”
His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “That is not what-”
“And that is not an answer.”
“I…” he begins, only to pause to collect his thoughts. “I have had the tremendous opportunity of curating for a successful gallery and overseeing its expansions. And that is on top of my day job at the paper and making sure I am pulling my weight as a co-parent. I’m barely in the same place for five minutes, so quite frankly, ma, by definition I think that’s the opposite of being stuck.” When Sarah’s pointed glance does not let up, he sighs. “Look… if the lack of two more seats at our Christmas table this year is any indication, I’d say my feelings weren’t any good on a one-way street. If I were stuck, I’d still be standing on it, but like I just said...”
Sarah puts her hands up. “Well, if all the hatchets are buried…” she says as she moves off the stool and slings her purse over her shoulder. “No harm in asking then, is there?” She reaches over to the counter, pushing his phone back to him and nodding towards the screen. “You don’t get any of these moments back, Steve. So if there’s any chance you can be a part of them instead of watching from afar, try.” With a smile, she leans in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you Sunday at brunch.”  
Sleep eludes him later that night as he watches the shadows dance across the ceiling, his mind replaying the conversation he had with Sarah. As he ruminates on its substance, he’s suddenly transported back to that night almost two years ago when Natasha had received her award from the Journalists’ Guild. At that point, their relationship had plunged into this strange and confusing pitfall. They had gone from living together as Natasha recovered from her awful fall, falling into domestic bliss as they did, to her serving him a custody agreement in his office seemingly in a blink of an eye. When he approached her that night for a dance, all he truly wanted was to erase the distance and the silence that had grown between them. But sometime in the middle of them swaying along to a soft string tune, she had informed him that she was going to take the job in London, and as he remembers how her words had made him feel then, hurt washes over him anew. She had pulled the rug from underneath him, sending him into free fall that, by the time she was accusing him of having never wanted their child in the first place, and asking him if she had a reason to stay, he was frozen. Speechless. Powerless to stop her from walking away and disappearing into the crowd.
Navigating their relationship after that night was incredibly difficult. They were both hurt, and understandably so, but giving each other space became nearly impossible when Natasha’s pregnancy spurned more health complications. They weren’t grave, thankfully, but it was enough to bring them to the sober realization that regardless of what had transpired between them, they couldn’t let their feelings get in the way of prioritizing the one thing that meant the world to the both of them. And by the time Isabel was born, the effort they’d both put in to make their circumstances work was so much that he told himself that it did not matter that his feelings for Natasha were not only lingering, but also brewing deep – rocking the boat was the last thing the three of them needed.
Further, what he had told his mother hadn’t been a lie. Feelings are no good on a one-way street. Perhaps there was a point where Natasha had felt the same way about him as he felt about her, but that was all moot now. In the end, she had gotten on the plane to London, and though he wanted nothing more than to tell her how he truly felt as they said their goodbyes at the airport, he still did not know with a certainty if that would have been enough. That, his love was a compelling enough reason for her to forego an opportunity that she’d been working towards her whole life. So instead, he told her the one thing he knew she’d do anyway – go and succeed. And if the reviews of the paper she’s helming and their cordial co-parenting relationship are anything to go by, it’s clear that staying mum was the right call. 
It’s then that the merit of Sarah’s earlier argument becomes clear. While spending Christmas together isn’t something they’ve ever discussed, with the both of them moving forward, perhaps there really was no harm in asking. Perhaps what’s in the past can stay in the past. Perhaps Christmas didn’t have to be so somber this year.Before he can change his mind, he reaches for his phone. 
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Natasha holds her breath as she creeps out into the hallway, relief crashing down on her like a ton of bricks when she successfully clicks the door shut without hearing a cry. With a sigh, she brings a hand up to the bridge of her nose, pinching down and letting her eyes fall shut in exhaustion. Isabel’s been restless the last couple of days, waking up intermittently and distraught for reasons that she cannot seem to figure out. To top it all off, despite the holidays fast approaching, her workload only seems to grow exponentially, and with the recent lack of sleep, the fatigue is getting harder to stave off.With a heavy exhale, she straightens up, willing herself back to her living room and to where she left her laptop on the couch. 
The words on the open document on her screen are ones she’s read enough times that she can recite them verbatim from memory, and yet, as she tries to come up with the next sentence, her mind draws a blank. With a groan, she pushes her screen down shut. Writing has always been her outlet of choice, allowing her to clear her head by losing herself in the topic of her current piece, and for it to fail her now when she’s most in need of a catharsis, she can’t help but feel even more untethered.The ding of her phone cuts through the silence, and she looks towards where it’s resting on the cushion to see an email notification pop up. 
Picking it up, she glides a finger over the bubble on the screen and sighs when she sees the subject line read: 
URGENT – Meeting w/ PR tomorrow
Without reading the contents, she closes her email app, deciding that at two in the morning, she just does not have the mental bandwidth to deal with any more work woes. But as she does, her photo stream appears, and a video begins to play. The camera zooms in, showing Steve carefully lifting a six-month-old Isabel up to blow bubbles on her belly, and she stops to watch Isabel giggle. In her desperation to soothe Isabel tonight, she had decided to play the video as she rocked her to sleep, and much to her relief, it had worked. Within minutes, and with Steve’s voice on loop in the background, Isabel had finally gone to bed.It’s when the frame switches to Steve and Isabel playing peek-a-boo that she finds her throat tightening. When she had moved six months ago, she had believed that not only was it the right decision, but also that the challenge of a new job and readjusting to a different country would aid her in moving on. But as Isabel’s soft coos and Steve’s laughter from the video fills the room, the sounds only seem to further underscore how big and empty her flat feels.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the audio cutting off, and she glares at the screen in anticipation of another work-related email, but her eyes only widen in surprise when she sees a text from Steve.
Hey, do you have time to talk tomorrow morning (late afternoon your time)? Just had a question…
As she reads the text, her eyebrows furrow. While they communicate several times a week, it’s only so he can video chat with Isabel or so she can send him Isabel’s latest photo. It’s not like him to shoot her a text out of the blue, and it’s even more so unusual for him to be vague about the subject. She bites her lip as she contemplates a reply, typing something out only to delete it. By her fourth attempt, her mind begins to race with a deluge of questions. With a huff, she puts her phone down, and finds herself almost grateful when she catches the porch light next door flicker on through her window. Hurriedly, she gets up, running through her foyer and hastily throwing her door open just as her neighbor is about to place their key into the lock. “Any chance you’re up for a nightcap?” she asks, biting her lip. 
Her neighbor turns, looking every bit as tired as any reasonable person returning home at this hour should. Nevertheless, he smirks. “When you’re offering?” he asks. “Always.”
“Long week, huh?” she asks later on as they sit on her couch, each clutching a glass of wine.
“Endless,” he says as he angles to face her. “Two back-to-back shifts with a twelve-hour surgery somewhere in between that nearly went critical, to be exact.”
“Nothing the great Dr. Laufeyson couldn’t handle, I’m sure,” she says, eyeing him knowingly.
“The patient survived, if that’s what you’re alluding to,” Loki says, prompting them both to laugh.
Her gaze falls to her wine, watching the dark liquid swirl as she rotates the glass in her hand. “Must be nice, though,” she says, “knowing what you do saves lives.” She looks over at him as she adds, “That of children, especially.”
“It is,” he agrees. “They’re wonderful and pure, as I’m sure you know. Not yet privy to the trickery and harshness of the world at large like we adults are... But that’s a conversation for a different time.” He takes a sip of his wine before arching a brow at her. “So, tell me, Miss Romanoff. What is it that has you keeping me from my bed?”
She scoffs. “Didn’t realize I had the power to make you do things you didn’t want to do.”
“I’d do anything for you and that little angel of yours,” he says before shrugging. “You know that.”
Loki’s words bring a smile to her face. For all her struggles in the last six months, meeting and getting to know him has been one of the bright spots that’s kept her going. That, and the fact that he lives next door and is up at ungodly hours like she is, is convenient – especially on nights like this when she could really use someone to talk to. It’s with that reminder that she sighs and goes about catching him up on everything that’s been plaguing her mind since the last time she saw him. When she finally gets to Steve’s text, she hands him her phone. “I’m probably just over analyzing it,�� she says. “For all I know, he probably just wants to FaceTime with Izzie more.”
“Then why not just get to it then?” Loki challenges. “Natasha, let’s be honest about what this is really about.”   
She shakes her head. “I just said that he-”
“I don’t mean about him,” Loki says, sighing when she stares confusedly at him. “You’ve basically just admitted to missing the man-”
“I said no such thing!” 
Loki shoots her a withering look. “Do you’ve any idea how many parents deny how much sugar they’ve fed their kids as I hold the results of their child’s blood work in my hands?” He scoffs. “It’s easy to say things, Natasha, but you cannot deny what is so. I assume you sulking in the dark and watching videos of him and Izzie aren’t just because you’re feeling nostalgic.”
“What do you want me to say, Loki?” she asks. “That I’m freaking out about this because I’m... lonely? Tired? Tipsy?” She chuckles, but it’s humorless, hollow. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she adds, “or that moving thousands of miles away was for nothing seeing as I’m still so pathetically in love with someone who clearly doesn’t love me back and who can seemingly pull me apart with a single text?”
“Only if that’s the truth,” Loki says, making her shoulders sag in defeat. “Natasha, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He takes her hand in his, causing her to look at him. “I simply wanted you to be honest about what’s at play here.” He sighs. “I don’t claim to know what or how he feels. And for that matter, what you truly do, and I will not pry. But what I do know is that you are smart, strong, gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to have you. The ones that don’t see that? They’re idiots and they don’t deserve you.” Her lips quirk at that, and he smiles. “Remember that the next time you think one text from someone can pull you apart, hm?”
Loki punctuates his words with a gentle squeeze to her hand, and as she lets the gravity of his sentiment sink in, she nods. “Thanks,” she says, laughing when he only winks and brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles.  
By the time Loki bids her goodnight and she makes it to bed, her mind feels a little clearer. Maybe she’s right and that whatever it is Steve wants to ask her is something as small as wanting more time to talk to Isabel, but the reality is that she’ll never know if she doesn’t find out. And if it turns out to be something that takes a wrecking ball to her heart all over again, if what Loki said is anything to go by, then maybe she isn’t giving herself enough credit. She has made it this far – scars and all.
With that in mind, she reaches for her phone and searches for Steve’s message to type out her reply.
Sure! Talk to you then.
Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
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tsukikento · 4 years
Text
Empathetic Ch. 3
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
Summary: After your mom, the number 1 hero in America, gets offered a teaching position at U.A., you two pack up your things and head to Musutafu, Japan to start a new life. Pressure for you in America was at an all-time high, and now you're in Japan, where almost no one knows you, or your family's past.
This tale starts on your first day of class where your new teacher decides the best way for you to fit in is to fight against the strongest person in your class: Bakugou Katsuki.
Warnings/Genre: This piece will feature some angst and reference to an abusive parent, if you are ever worried about other tw’s feel free to send me an ask and I will let you know. There will also be fluff, slight angst, pining, and slowburn
A/N: This is also posted on ao3 under @allie_win. I’m transferring it over here, pls let me know if you like it! I love your comments! Just a note that any italics means thoughts.
(series masterlist)
~~
As someone who could manipulate emotions, it was hard not to be an emotional person. Everything you felt was tenfold what another person could feel.
It could be great! Like when you were happy or serene. But it could also be bad, like when you were anxious or depressed.
It took you quite some time for you to be able to control your emotions. You had to make sure you didn’t get too excited in front of others because it could freak people out. It was even worse when you were dealing with more negative emotions. You also had to make sure you had coping mechanisms for when you were stressed, in order to function like others. The hardest to fight against was your anger.
You worked hard throughout the years to keep your fury and rage down.
You still remembered sparring with your brother when he was 15 and you were 11. He had beat you time and time again and eventually you were so angry that you let yourself slip and charged straight at him. He easily blasted you back with his flames and scarred your midriff with a burn that was still healing.
You had felt crazy, like you couldn’t control anything. Your emotions swept you up like ocean waves and tumbled you through a sea of hatred. Finally, you got a better hold of concealing and coping with such emotions, and anger was one you thought you mastered.
And yet, here you were. Up in your room at 2 in the morning, reliving your conversation with Bakugou from an hour ago, comparing your anger from a few hours ago to the anger you felt when you were 11.
You felt like such an idiot, and you had no one to blame but yourself. You were one who got angry first. Not Bakugou. You can’t say that Bakgou’s anger made you angry because he simply asked you a question. You wished you could take it back. You wished you could have just told Bakugou that it’s sad and a bit personal, but that maybe one day you would tell him. Then you could have thanked him for the food and cleaned the dishes.
But no. Your loud mouth just had to get mad. How dare he ask you a question that was obviously personal?
You sighed and rotated in your bed, pushing your face into your pillow and groaning. You felt like such an idiot and you knew you should apologize, but apologizing to Bakugou was more than difficult. Why would he, in the first place, wanna talk to you? And on top of that, when you apologized, he would probably just laugh in your face, call you a moron, and walk away.
Fuck.
You grabbed your phone and turned on a playlist that helped you fall asleep. You let the music take you away, hoping that your next day was better, seeing as it was only the second school day of the week.
~~
Tuesday started quickly.
You had forgotten to set an alarm and was woken up 30 minutes before you had to leave for class. You jumped out of bed and thanked Ashido for waking you before throwing on your school uniform and making sure your earbuds were still in.
You knew you had enough time to get ready but were disappointed in not being able to go on your morning run. You had washed your face last night and decided to skip doing it again because you were low on time and not very sweaty without your morning run.
You grabbed a select amount of toiletries as well as your school bag and rushed downstairs. You brushed your teeth, fixed your hair, and applied minimal makeup in the communal bathroom. You opted for leaving everything in the bathroom because you were out of time. Once ready, you grabbed one of the many protein bars in the kitchen and followed Ashido and Toru outside.
From there, the day slowed down drastically.
With no morning run to wake you up, your brain was running on nothing and the lectures you had throughout the day dragged on. It especially didn’t help that your whole body ached from your argument. Your mind clouded itself with thoughts of what you could have done better. Your stomach churned at the thought of how much Bakugou must hate you now. And your heart begged to go back in time and answer Bakugou no matter how personal.
Dumb. 
People are not supposed to listen to their hearts all the time for a good reason. Telling Bakugou would have been a bigger mistake than how you actually reacted.
At one point, you decided to get up and take a walk to the bathroom, hoping it would wake you up. However, you quickly realized that you still had no idea where anything was and so after wandering for a couple of minutes, you decided to give up and just go back to class.
When you came back in, the sound of the door caused a few people to look towards you, Bakugou being one of them. You couldn’t read his face, but he watched you go back to your desk while everyone else was already looking back up at Aizawa-sensei.
You felt your face flush. You were too prideful and anxious to actually apologize to Bakugou. But you were disappointed in yourself for reacting the way you did. You spared a glance back to the blonde boy who was now writing down something in his notebook. His eyebrows furrowed together and he was biting his bottom lip.
What is he so focused on?
You thought about taking out your earbuds, but decided against invading his privacy. Sometimes it’s better to just leave someone alone.
By lunch, you felt like you were about to fall asleep. However, the sweet and savory aroma of Lunch Rush’s food quickly woke you up. You grabbed a caffeinated drink as well as a hearty meal that would help balance your lack of nutritious food that day. You also knew you were going to have to work out after class and grabbed some fruits and another protein bar for later.
You didn’t contribute much to the conversation during lunch because you were busy eating, but Ashido and Hagakure were talking enough for the three of you. This time you sat at a bigger table with Momo Yaoyorozu and Kyoko Jirou. Neither girl talked as much as Ashido and they could tell you were too tired to answer any questions they may have for you.
During the latter end of lunch, Momo did ask you a few questions about your quirk and your fighting style considering how well you did against Bakugou.
“Oh, honestly, I’m just lucky he didn’t know my quirk. I’m sure that if he knew my quirk then he would be able to get the upper hand,” You replied as Toru complimented you on the fight.
“That may be true, but you also waited to put him asleep. If you battled him again, the second you touched him, he would be done for,” Jirou retorted, playing with her aux as if it was hair.
“I guess so,” You started, “But some people are better at fighting against my quirk. For example, if someone needs help to sleep, I can help them with no friction. But for people who don’t want to, I have to be touching them for them to stay asleep and I have to concentrate more. In fact, if I battled Bakugou again, he might see that move coming and be so resistant that it could drain me enough for him to send an explosion my way and push me back.”
Momo gasped at your analysis. “You know your quirk so well!”
"Yeah, I’m trying to understand it and make it stronger every day,” You replied.
“Ooh, ooh!” Ashido interjected, way too excited for how drained you still felt. “Try and make me sleep, I’ll try my hardest to stay awake.”
You laughed, closed your eyes, and grabbed her hand. The process starts with you calming her down. Slowly and slowly you eased her of all her stresses and worries. When you change people’s emotions, you can sometimes see the colors. Red and purples vanished, being replaced by cool tones of blue. Ashido’s breathing slowed down and you knew her heart rate was slowing down as well. She was trying her best to resist, but it was fruitless. It was like a light switch appeared, brighter than everything else. If you flipped the switch, she would fall asleep. You used your powers to flip the switch, she fell asleep, and the blues turned darker to show you she was no longer conscious.
The rest of the table erupted into giggles as Ashido started snoring.
You let go of her hand and Ashido woke up suddenly. She blinked a couple of times and looked around the table as if she had no memory of falling asleep. The table erupted into laughter again. “
Sorry,” You said between laughs.
“It’s okay,” Ashido replied cheerfully before she grabbed her drink.
"It’s amazing to see it happen up close, and so slowly too!” Momo commented, smiling brightly at you.
You bashfully accepted the compliment before Ashido grabbed everyone’s attention with a long story about something that happened at the mall the other day.
~~
After class, you asked Ashido to show you to the training grounds seeing as you left your map of the school at home. She happily obliged and took you to the locker rooms where you grabbed your clothes from her locker and changed. You really had to ask someone where your locker was.
While you changed, she grabbed you a map of the school from the main office, and pointed out the multiple training areas. You thanked her and asked if she wanted to work out with you, but she replied that she prefers working out at night. You nodded and waved goodbye to her as you made your way to a facility with treadmills and other gym equipment.
You spent your afternoon doing a simple workout of running and muscle building. You still were too nervous to explore more into the other facilities. You also had to unpack your room so more intense training would have to wait.
By dinnertime, you were finally back in the dorms. You quickly made your way to the showers with a pair of fresh clothes to put on once clean. After showering, you washed your face and made your way back to your room.
The messy room stared back at you as you opened your door.
You groaned, knowing it would take forever to finish decorating. You put away your toiletries and dirty clothes before deciding that you needed a post workout snack.
~~
By the time you did get around to cleaning up your room, the sky was dark and the sun was replaced by a glowing moon.
You frowned at the boxes of your belongings. You grabbed a small, white bookcase you owned and made slow work of nailing it to the wall. You started placing your books and some decorative trinkets inside. Your clothes were put away into your drawers and the closet so you spent most of your time unpacking smaller items.
After a solid two hours of work, your room looked much nicer.
Your bed was made with sheets that were gold and your duvet was white. On top of the bed was a knitted, pastel pink blanket that helped tie in the black bed frame to the bright white blanket. Your desk was right next to your bed and was quite plain with no drawers. You had textbooks on the table as well as a small, gold organizing drawer that held almost nothing. It was supposed to help with containing paperwork and old assignments, but you didn’t have any yet.
Your bookcase was on the opposite wall and was surrounded by a few old photos and posters. By your door was a shelf that you kept all your toiletries on. They were organized into small baskets so you could easily grab them. One held skincare items and your toothbrush while the other had everything you needed for showering.
You smiled at your work and decided it was enough for the day considering there were only a couple boxes left of things you just needed to shove into the empty drawer in your bed frame.
You sighed and sat on your bed, grabbing your water and taking big swigs. The clock in your room read 11:00 pm.
You still had a math assignment to finish before class tomorrow. Stupid hero school, still making us learn general education. At least it was only small assignments and no major essays or anything. Or at least you hoped there were no essays.
You grabbed your bag and pulled out a pencil and some graphing paper. You sat at your desk and opened up your textbook, slowly solving each equation. You weren’t one to stay up late, even though 11 wasn’t actually too late. You opted for working out in the morning usually so by this time you were almost always tired. The workout you did today tired you out more than woke you up, and the energy drink you had with dinner was finally wearing off.
Finally, you finished your homework and slid into bed. You were wearing comfy clothes and was too exhausted to wash your face and brush your teeth before sleep finally took you.
~~
You woke up to your alarm the next day and made quick work of changing into your workout clothes. Your body ached slightly from the muscle-building yesterday, but you ignored the pain as you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs.
You stepped out into the cool air and started stretching your body, hearing the cracks of bones and reveling in the feeling of your healing muscles. Once done, you looked around into the open area. You were still on the school grounds, but your building was so far away from everyone else that it felt as if you weren’t even in school.
You turned on some music and began your run. You stayed in the area, only going around the building and the nearby area. During your run, you were able to let go of any of your thoughts and worries, only focusing on your breathing and the music playing in your ears.
That was until you rounded the corner of the dorm building to come face to face with the fiery redhead in your class known as Kirishima Eijirou.
“Oh, oh! I’m so sorry!” You practically shouted as you stumbled back to prevent yourself from bumping into your stretching classmate.
Kirishima stood up and scratched the back of his head, “It’s no problem!”
However, with your music, his words were muffled and you quickly paused your music. “Sorry?”
“I just said it was no problem,” He responded, waving you off sheepishly. “Ah” You nodded.
“Thanks. I must not have been paying much attention. I don’t really know the campus yet so I was just running around here.”
“Oh, well, we do have a gym with treadmills or you could go down to the track if that’s what you are looking for,” Kirishima commented. His posture relaxed and he leaned his body weight to one side.
“Hmm, I’ll have to check out the track. I went to the gym yesterday although I prefer running outside,” You responded. “Thanks!”
“Anything to help possibly the strongest girl in our class!” Kirishima smiled brightly at you, his sharp teeth grabbing your attention.
You laughed a little too loud at that. “Jeez, that’s a big claim considering you’ve only ever seen me fight once!”
“Well, it was against Bakugou. He is first in our class technically. Although that’s probably because Todoroki and Midoriya hold back during fights,” He mumbled the last part, but you made a note to ask him more about that later.
“That doesn’t mean I am the strongest. All of us have our strengths and weaknesses,” You responded, blushing a little. It seemed like everyone here thought you were so strong. You weren’t so sure though.
“Wow, and so humble too. How honorable!” He commented.
“Stop! Seriously!” You were blushing pretty hard at this point. You weren’t complimented this heavily back home. Since more people knew your mom in America, you were usually expected to be the best, especially because your siblings were all up and coming or already succeeding heroes. Your oldest sibling was 14 years older than you and had made her debut over 10 years ago.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Kirishima responded.
“It’s okay,” You waved him off, before using your cold hands to cool down your face. “I should get back inside anyway, I still need to get ready for the day.” Kirishima nodded, waving goodbye to you as you jogged past him and up to the front steps of the dorm.
Once inside, you grabbed a glass of water and rode the elevator to the top floor. You finished the glass as you arrived in your room and set it down on the desk. You took out your earbuds before grabbing your school uniform. You placed it on top of your toiletries baskets and made your way to the bathroom.
The bathrooms were arranged quite weirdly, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it. When you entered, the bathroom was plain with 6 stalls to your left and 3 sinks to your right. There were two hand dryers as well.
Opposite to the entrance were 4 doors, each leading to a different shower. There weren’t any signs differing gender, but Ashido mentioned that almost all the girls exclusively used to one on the far left.
Besides this unusual set-up, there were also a few differences purely based on American vs. Japanese culture. For one, the stalls had no gaps between doors and walls. They looked much cleaner and modern than the bathrooms in America. On top of that, each toilet was equipped with a bidet. Before, you never had time to think about the differences, but now that you were able to casually get ready, you couldn’t stop noticing the subtle and major differences.
You showered, making sure to keep your still fairly clean hair dry, and washed your face before changing unto your uniform and stepping out into the communal area. You used the mirror in front of the sink to fix your hair and put on some makeup. You cherished how slowly you were able to get ready. The peaceful morning was something you came to love. Your house was always hectic so having your own time in the morning was your favorite.
The door to your right clicked and Uraraka proceeded to walk into the bathroom as you pinned your hair out of your face. She was still in her pajamas and smiled at you before yawning and walking into the far left shower. You waved back and then turned to face the mirror again.
Even with the wall dividing you two, you could still tell she had been thinking about her dream last night. When she turned on the shower, the sound and wall were able to cover up her thoughts enough for you to easily ignore them. You started putting on your makeup as Uraraka showered, the steam emitting from her shower slowly creeped out of the small cracks in the door. Luckily, the bathroom was too big to fog up the mirrors.
You were almost done with your makeup when the shower turned off. Through your mirror, you saw her emerge, much more awake than when she entered.
You smiled at her, “Good morning,” You spoke quietly as you sprayed your face with setting spray.
“Good morning, L/N-san,” She replied, stepping in front of the mirror to your right and brushing out her hair.
“How did you sleep?” You asked her as you stared into the mirror, making sure your makeup was perfect.
Ugh, even with eight hours, I am so tired. “Good, and you?” She responded.
You refrained from commenting on her thoughts, thinking it was best to ignore it. “I slept well, I’ve been pretty tired lately with all the changes though,” You said. You placed your clothes on top of your toiletries.
Uraraka hummed in understanding. “I’m sure you’ll be more accustomed soon.”
Just then, Bakugou walked into the bathroom and your heart began beating faster. You didn’t know if it was out of fear for the argument the other night or because his bed head was just that adorable.
Stop thinking that way! You idiot! You thought, looking away from him to focus on your makeup again.
He grumbled to himself as he walked to the sink to your left. He looked at you with a scowl on his face before looking away and turning on the hot water. You took a moment to admire his sweatpants that settled low on his hips and the old band t-shirt he wore.
What is she looking at? Bakugou thought to himself when your eyes lingered on him longer than ideal.
Fuck. Hearing people’s thoughts can be so embarrassing. Maybe I should have the support group here make me some water-proof ones, you thought as Bakugou’s thoughts meddled and surpassed Uraraka’s more peaceful and quiet ones.
Stupid morning. I hate this! I need a nap and it’s only 8:00 in the morning! It’s too early for this! Bakugou thought as he splashed his face with hot water.
You giggled to yourself. Maybe it isn’t too bad hearing people’s thoughts. When Bakugou heard you, he made quick work of glaring at you. He noticed you weren’t wearing your earbuds because your hair was pinned back.
His eyes formed slits as he stared at you. Do you like reading my thoughts, shit face? You better stop before I hit you.
You laughed again.
As he spoke to you through his thoughts, his subconscious thoughts and feelings also poked through, letting you know he really wouldn’t hit you if it came down to it. Honestly, it felt pretty good knowing that.
“Bakugou, you can talk to me through your thoughts, but I can still hear your subconscious thoughts. I know you wouldn’t really hit me in front of people.” You replied.
Uraraka looked at you confused before she remembered you could hear thoughts.You heard her thoughts panic for a moment over whether or not you were listening to her thoughts. Uraraka still didn’t know you very well and was worried if you would use this against her, which didn’t settle very well with you.
However, before you could become too concerned with Uraraka, Bakugou spoke again.
“Whatever,” He mumbled before starting to brush his teeth rather violently. However, his thoughts were much more upset over the idea that you were able to beat him in his own game.
Although nervous, you felt better about being able to get through your conversation with Bakugou. His thoughts didn’t make him seem that angry and he wasn’t thinking about that night so maybe he didn’t care. Or maybe he was too tired to be thinking properly.
You grabbed your items and made your way to the door. “Bye,” You spoke as you opened the door even with full hands and made your way back to your dorm room. Once inside, you placed your things back on the shelf and put your clothes into your hamper. You had left your towel in the bathroom to dry.
You packed up your bag for the day and made your way downstairs with your backpack and the water glass. You still had 20 minutes to make breakfast so you started whipping up something quick. You thought about whether or not you should make food for other people, but decided against it when you only saw Aoyama and Tokoyami on this floor. You never even talked to them before. And who knew who was already at school or already ate?
You finished the savory meal and quickly cleaned the pan and spatula before the food had a chance to stick to it and cool down. You grabbed chopsticks from the drawer and filled your water glass before digging in. You finished just in time to clean the bowl and chopsticks. You grabbed your bag and rushed out the door. You didn’t see Ashido or Toru so you just walked by yourself and put on some music.
Within a couple of minutes, you were in the classroom and met the faces of almost everyone in the class. You quickly took your seat and pulled out your notebook and pen before turning off your music.
You took a deep breath and looked around the sea of people. Midoriya and Iida were at Uraraka’s desk, talking about this and that. Ojirou was quietly talking with Toru while Ashido animatedly talking to Kirishima. Momo was quietly reading a book while Kaminari and Jirou shared music together through earbuds.
Once Aizawa entered the class, everyone sat back down in their respective seats and quieted down. His dry eyes stared back at the class. “So,” He began, “Elemental has been going to all the other classes for the last couple days, but today she is visiting our class. So, here she is,” His voice was gravely, as if he just woke up.
In walked your mom with a bright smile. “Hello everyone,” She waved her hand. Her posture was similar to All Might’s. She commanded the room and everyone looked at her.
You quickly took off your earbuds, unable to resist hearing people’s thoughts at first seeing your mom.
Wow, she looks even stronger in person! You looked at Midoriya’s glowing eyes as he gushed over her.
Dang, she looks cool, Jirou thought.
Ugh, I still don’t get what all the hype is about, Bakugou thought as he stared at your mom. He felt your eyes on him and looked at you, glaring because he could see you weren’t wearing your earbuds. What are you looking at, huh? You mad I don’t love your mom?
You glared back at him, wishing your quirk went both ways so you could retaliate.
Bakugou smirked, realizing she couldn’t respond to him. Huh? It’s kind of nice not being able to hear your retorts. This is pretty godda-
You angrily put your earbuds back in. Fuck you, you thought harshly. Maybe if you thought hard enough, you would get the thought across him.
You looked back at your mom who was in the middle of a speech.
“So, to summarize, I am here to help with people whose quirks revolve around elements. Like, Todoroki-san or Kaminari-san.” She finished.
Aizawa stepped up from the background. “The students in this class who will be attending meetings with Elemental will be Todoroki, Bakugou, Kaminari, Asui, and Uraraka. Some of you for more obvious reasons than others. These practices will be taking place after lunch starting this Friday. You will spend three hours working with her every Monday and Friday. Now, thank you for coming, Elemental. Everyone say ‘thank you.’”
“Thank you,” A chorus of students spoke.
“Of course! I’ll see some of you soon,” She replied before looking at you. In English, she spoke. “You better come see me soon, sweetheart. I miss you and want to hear all about your fight against that boy.” You blushed as everyone looked at you.
“Okay,” You mumbled, covering your red cheeks and looking down at your desk.
“Good,” Your mom replied before leaving the room.
God, it’s so like her to embarrass me whenever she can!
“Okay, let’s get to business,” Aizawa spoke, slurring his words. “Today is hero course day. Go ahead and change into your training uniforms and then meet All Might at Cityscape 2.”
The class got up and started making their way out to the changing rooms. You got up quickly and made your way to your teacher.
“Aizawa-sensei. I haven’t gotten a locker yet in the changing rooms. I was wondering if you knew which one was mine?” You timidly asked.
“Huh? Oh, let me check.” Aizawa grabbed some papers from his bag and looked through them as the class left the room. “Hmm, uhhh, here it is. Okay, you are assigned to locker 27. The lock code is 15397.”
You grabbed a pen off Aizawa’s desk and wrote the number on your hand, too afraid you would forget. “Perfect, thank you, Aizawa-sensei.”
“No problem,” He responded quietly, as if already almost asleep.
You left the room, trailing a little far behind the class. You were lucky that you remembered where the changing room was at this point so you could catch up easily. You were the last person to enter the changing room and you went over to Ashido to grab your clothes.
“I found out what locker I have,” You said to her as you grabbed your clothes from her locker.
“Nice!” She replied. “Which one is it?”
“27,” You responded. You looked up to see Ashido was locker 176. “I guess I should go find it.” You wandered away, turning the corner to find your locker. When you found it, you realized you were right by Jirou and Tsu. You smiled at the two girls before unlocking the locker and changing into your clothes.
They didn’t smell too bad, but you knew you were going to need to wash them sooner than later. Maybe you would even sweat enough today that you would need to wash them today. Where do I even go to wash clothes? You wondered as you tied up your shoes. You made a mental note to ask someone where the laundry room was.
Just then, Ashido and Toru turned the corner to greet you. “Ready to go to Cityscape, Y/N-chan?” Toru asked you.
“Yeah,” You responded as you stood up.
“Perfect, let’s go!” Ashido spoke as she turned on her heel and led you and Toru out of the lockers.
Jirou and Momo were ahead of you as well as a few guys from the class that you hadn’t really talked to yet. Toru was telling Ashido and you a story about Ojirou. Ironically, he was one of the guys ahead of you. You couldn’t see her, but you were sure that if you could, she would be blushing.
Eventually, you exited the building and walked just a bit longer to the training ground. More students were already there. It seemed like the class was only waiting on Kaminari and Sero. Everyone stood in front of All Might, talking quietly as they waited for the last two students. Soon enough, they came running towards the group, mumbling something about forgetting Aizawa said Cityscape 2 and not Cityscape 1.
“Ha Ha Ha!” A loud and deep voice laughs. You look over to see All Might in his flexed form. He was standing tall, his chest was pushed forward, and his hands were on his hips.
You ‘awed’ at the sight. You had never seen him in this form in person and you knew it must hurt him to do it. Even just his body was captivating and loud, demanding everyone’s eyes. He was smiling so brightly one second and then the next-
Poof.
All Might was now back to his regular self. His uniform swallowed him up and his lanky body now stood in front of the class. Even though it was only for a minute, you were more than ecstatic to be able to see his flexed form. You looked at the class around you, their faces hardly changed as they saw him go between forms. They must have been so used to it by now, considering it had been almost a year since his fight with All for One.
“Let’s get started today, young students!” All Might spoke, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Today, we are utilizing your quirks in a classic game of capture the flag.”
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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years
Text
Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion
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Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo​ is finally underway! @burtlederp​ asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is! 
Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed
This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook​, @bleeding-demon-teeth​, and @special-spicy-chicken​!
CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan
Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.
He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.
He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?
When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.
He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.
She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.
You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.
But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.
Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.
That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?
He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.
They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.
He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.
He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-
Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.
Yes, he could have.
He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow.  What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.
What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?
No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.
His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.
“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."
He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.
One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.
Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.
Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.
Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...
One more day of this and Ryan might crack.
He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.
Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.
It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.
Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.
“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”
He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.
Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.
I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.
No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day. 
She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.
She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.
Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.
You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.
You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-
“Ryan?”
He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.
The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.
“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in.  “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”
Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.
“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”
“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”
“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.
“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”
When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck. 
“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”
He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.
He just.
It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.
“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”
“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”
Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.
“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”
“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”
“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”
Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”
“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”
“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”
“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”
Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.
Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.
“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”
You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.
“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”
“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.
“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.
Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…
No. Too tired to be angry right now.
“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”
“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.
“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”
He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.
He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.
Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.
Plenty to make up for.
And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.
Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.
He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.
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Pregnancy Symptoms
Summary:
Juvia has been acting differently recently. She has been tired and sick in the mornings. Lucy plants an idea in Gray’s head. Could Juvia be pregnant?
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Gray had been waiting for Juvia all morning at the guild, It wasn’t like her to not show up. Ever since they moved into together, she had been the one to get up first. He would often wake to find her all ready to head out, with breakfast ready for him. She even got up bright and early after nights when they were busy--having fun. However, for the last two weeks, she had been sleeping in in the morning and showing up to the guild late. Now, when he woke up, he could catch a glimpse of the sleeping water mage. He didn’t mind the sight, of course, he was just getting worried. He decided that it was probably best to head home and see what was going on. Once he got back, he noticed Juvia feeling unwell on the couch. She was lying down, with a hot towel on her head. He walked over to see if she was alright but found that she was fast asleep. He then picked her up and carried her over to their bedroom. To his surprise, she wasn't hot, so it couldn’t have been a fever. As he laid her down on the bed, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. 
“Gray-sama, Juvia is sorry for not coming to the guild. Juvia has been throwing up all morning, and does not feel good.” Gray looked concerned. Juvia never got sick beyond just a minor cold and even that was rare. He thought of staying with her so he could take care of her, but remembered he agreed to go on a job with the others later. Still, when he looked at the water mage he couldn’t bear to leave her alone. He decided it would probably be best to go back to the guild and alert one of them that he’d be staying home today. He kissed Juvia on the forehead and proceeded to head out.
“I’ll be back soon,” he assured her. Once he got to the guild, he spotted Lucy and ran over to let her know about his absence. “Hey Lucy, I’m going to stay at home today. Juvia is sick and I don’t want to leave her alone,” he explained.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Lucy looked puzzled, “Though, it is a little weird. Juvia never gets sick, does she? Does she have a fever?”
“Well she doesn’t have a fever, but she said she has been throwing up all morning, and she has been more tired than usual.” This elicited a small ‘eep’ from Lucy. “What?” questioned the ice mage. 
“Nothing. Nothing!” she waved her arms around frantically, “It’s just that, it’s weird that Juvia of all people would get sick, and she is throwing up in the morning. That could mean that she is--. You know what forget it. You should get back home and take care of her.” Gray thought about questioning the mage some more but figured it was probably best to get home to Juvia as soon as possible. He left Lucy, who seemed to be pretty deep in thought and headed home. When he got there, he was surprised to find his girlfriend awake and doing work around the house.
“What are you doing awake? You should get some rest,” he guided her to the bedroom and by the lack of protest, he could tell she was still tired. He sat down next to her on the bed and brought her head down to rest on his lap. 
“Juvia had a bad dream that Gray-sama left her, and when she woke up Gray-sama was gone and she was worried. Sorry, Juvia is probably sounding annoying right now,” she buried her head in his lap, but Gray just bent over to place a kiss on the back of her head. He felt her relax instantly.
“Sorry I just needed to cancel a job I was supposed to go on, but I’m here with you the rest of the day,” Gray said, moving some stray hairs out of her face. She purred in response, and after a few minutes, she was asleep again. His heart swelled as he laid her down, she looked so beautiful even like this. Every now and then, he would feel shocked at just how much loved this woman. After losing people for so long, she was his warmth and he’d be damned if he ever lost her. 
Gray’s afternoon was pretty uneventful, he did some work around the house as he let Juvia rest. Okay, maybe he wasn’t really used to housework, but he managed to clean up and do the laundry. It was when he tried to cook when he realized just how inexperienced he was. Juvia always cooked, and she was pretty good. Gray commented a few times that she was better than Mira, but she never took him seriously. Right when he was staring back at his stew that looked more like a potion than food, Juvia walked out of their bedroom to greet him. 
“Gray-sama, what’s going on, Juvia smelled something weird,” she rubbed her eyes open and was surprised to find a mysterious mass boiling away.
“Sorry, Juvia. I uh- tried to make some food,” he said apologetically. She chuckled in response and started getting out a few ingredients to make food herself.
“No, wait. You still need to rest. How about I get us some food from the guild. What would you like?” he asked. He was determined to take care of her today.
“Juvia is feeling better now. Although, Juvia has been craving some of Mira’s roast beef sandwiches, with pickles if Gray-sama can get them,” she asked hopefully. 
“I’ll do my best,” he gave her a peck on the lips and left to go back to the guild. He was hopping back and forth quite a bit today. When he got there he was surprised to find Lucy and Natsu still there.
“What happened to the job?” questioned Gray as he approached the two mages. 
“Oh, it was a dud. Turns out the big monster was just a bunch of guys in a dumb costume,” explained Natsu. 
“We decided that we’d just chill here for the rest of the day,” added Lucy, “That reminds me, aren't you supposed to be taking care of your girlfriend?” 
“I am, I am,” he said defensively, ”she was just craving some of Mira’s roast beef sandwiches and I didn’t want to have her cook today, so I am hoping Mira will pack me some.” Gray proceeded to awkwardly rub his neck. “I actually tried to make dinner, but it was a bit of a bust. I think the smell of the monstrosity woke her up.” Lucy’s eyes grew at the statement, but Gary spotted Mira and went to ask her for some sandwiches. Thankfully, she obliged. As he was about to walk out after his triumphant sandwich run, he spotted Lucy again, this time away from Natsu, and her expression had not changed. “What’s going on?” he questioned.
“Ahh... It’s really not my business. I was just wondering if maybe -- You know, it's nothing.” stuttered the blonde.
“Lucy, explain!” he said sternly. He glared at her with cold eyes, and after a fierce battle of eye contact she finally gave in.
“Ah okay fine. I was just thinking that Juvia might be ... pregnant…” Gray froze at her words. A wave of unidentifiable emotions washed over him. 
“What are you talking about? To get pregnant you need to…” Gray blushed and Lucy gave him a knowing look.
“Gray, you don’t need to hide it from me. I know you and Juvia aren’t so innocent, she tells me all about it. Like the time you used your ice make magic to make hand--” 
“Okay, okay that's enough. Why would she tell you about that--just be quiet!” exclaimed Gray. 
“Oh she didn’t tell me, but based on your reaction, I feel like I have enough proof.” she smiled victoriously. Gray was annoyed, but his thoughts shifted back to the spirit mage’s initial comment.
“She can’t be pregnant, we always use-- well you know,” he avoided eye contact with the woman in front of him, god why was he talking to her about this.
“Well, things happen Gray. Plus, you did tell me that she was throwing up all morning, right.” Gray nodded in response. “Well that would be morning sickness, and you said the smell of your cooking woke her up. Pregnant women have a superior sense of smell, which makes sense why she was woken up by it. Finally, she was craving sandwiches with pickles. I mean, I’m not sure, but it sounds like pregnancy cravings to me!”
 “But--” it dawned on him that what Lucy was saying did make sense, which was a first for the spirit mage. ‘God, what if she is pregnant’ he thought. It wasn’t like Gray hated the idea. He always thought of starting a family with the water mage someday, but right now seemed so soon. After all, he hadn’t even proposed yet. Yet, when he stopped to think of it, this was what he was waiting for his whole life. He loved Juvia so much, and he knew if they were to have a child, he would love him or her just as fiercely. “I can’t deal with this now. I’m going to head home. She can’t be--” he said trying to convince himself more than Lucy.  As he walked home from the guild, his heart was filled with a heap of conflicting emotions.
He walked in to find Juvia with a little girl on her lap. She was telling her a story. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that this girl had unruly black hair and bright brown eyes, no doubt it was one of Gajeel and Levy’s. He thought about interrupting them, but he enjoyed watching his girlfriend like this, so he stayed quiet at the doorway.
“Then the Rain Woman and her ice prince lived happily ever after,” finished Juvia. Gray smiled, though he knew he was no prince.
“Aww the ice prince is so handsome, the Rain Women is so lucky!!! Is that why she married him?” asked the little girl. Juvia shook her head.
“The ice prince was handsome, but that’s not why she loved him. The ice prince always made sure she knew that she was not alone. He gave her love and a home and that was why the rain women loved him.” she explained.
“You forget, the rain woman melted away the ice prince’s cold heart and that is why he loved her in return,” added Gray, interrupting their little story session. The little girl didn’t seem it mind it though, she was just happy to hear more of the story.
“Though, it took a while for Gra- I mean the ice prince to come around and show that he loved her back, but the rain woman was a patient women,” added Juvia.
“That she was, but I hope he was worth the wait,” mused Gray. 
“Definitely,” she smiled as she planted a kiss on the ice mages cheek. The little girl was uncomfortable now and squirmed out of there. She continued to play though with two dolls she had brought from home. 
“What’s she doing here?” questioned Gray.
“Oh, Gajeel-kun was not feeling well so Levy-san came to drop her off. Juvia doesn’t mind, she likes kids,” explained Juvia. Gray let out an exasperated sigh.
“Well, you weren’t feeling well either. You really should learn to say no sometimes,” Gray whispered into her ear. She brushed off his comment. She had no regard for herself, as usual. 
“Juvia feels all better now!” she said as she grabbed one of the sandwiches from Gray’s hand. Gray was glad he brought extra because now they had a little tike to feed. The rest of the evening was spent entertaining the little girl. They had a tea party, played hide and seek and even had a fashion show. Gray didn’t like that last part very much because he was forced to wear makeup and a dress. Still, Juvia seemed to be entertained. By the time Levy came to pick her up, they were both exhausted. As Juvia chatted at the door, Gray went to clear the makeup off his face. When he returned, he heard an interesting conversation taking place. 
“Ah Levy-chan, it's just so cute. Juvia wants one so badly!” he heard his girlfriend squeal. What was cute he wondered? His thoughts shifted back to Lucy’s comment earlier. Were they talking about… a baby? ‘When was the last time Levy had a baby’ thought Gray. All he knew was that those two had more kids than he could count, so another baby was not out of the question. To him it seemed like Levy was always pregnant.
“Juvia you should, it is about time you and Gray get one. Life is just much more fun now!” added the script mage.
“Juvia knows. Juvia might actually be in the process of getting one. Though, Juvia hasn’t told Gray-sama yet. She is worried he may not be on the same page.” the water mage looked down at the floor. His heart began to race, this wasn’t happening was it?
“Oh my god, that’s so exciting! Make sure you talk with him about it though, when I told Gajeel he was nothing but supportive, I’m sure Gray will be the same way. Anyway Juvia, I got to get home. Gajeel isn’t feeling well, but please let me know what happens.” Juvia nodded and waved goodbye to the other mage. She looked over at Gray who had a very concerned look on his face.
“Gray-sama is everything alright?” Juvia asked. He was still at a loss for words. It seemed like what Lucy said was right, Juvia had to pregnant. He had no idea how to approach the situation. Should he ask her? Wait for her to tell him? Was he even okay with this?
“I- uh…” he managed to get out, “I need a shower. I’ll be right back,” he reasoned. Juvia seemed upset at his response but did not press him.
As he let the cold water cascade down his body, his thoughts drew back to his girlfriend. If she was pregnant that meant he was going to be a father, and that was what scared him the most. He knew that Juvia would make a great mother, he could see that by how he treated the little girl today. Juvia always had a big heart and protected her loved ones fiercely. He, on the other hand, wasn’t so good with that. He was afraid he would be a cold and distant father, he was like that to everyone else. He was even cold to Juvia in the beginning, even though she might argue otherwise. Still, whenever he thought about raising a family with this woman he loved more than anything, he could feel his heart swell with warmth. 
Juvia waited patiently from him in their bedroom. He was clearly worried about something and she wanted to help. When he walked in, she saw that his face had softened and he seemed calmer now. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Everything okay Gray-sama?” she asked softly. A soft smile grew on his face.
“Yeah, everything is fine,” he got in the bed pulling her close to him. “I--I know what’s going on, and I just want to say that I am cool with it. I always thought of starting a family with you anyway. I might be a bit scared, but with you there I know I can handle whatever it is.” A look of confusion spread across Juvia’s face
“Gray-sama, what are you talking about?”
“It’s okay Juvia, I know you’re pregnant. You don’t need to worry about hiding it from me,” he explained as he patted her stomach slightly. Juvia gave him a sympathetic look.
“Gray-sama, Juvia is not pregnant,” explained the water mage.
“Huh?” Gray was dumbfounded and a little embarrassed. “What do you mean you’re not pregnant?”
“Juvia does not know how Gray-sama got the idea, but Juvia is fine. Juvia would tell Gray-sama first thing if she was pregnant. Although, Juvia is worried, does she look pregnant.” she held her stomach insecurely.
“But...uh Lucy said that…” 
“Gray-sama listened to Lucy again?” sighed Juvia, it was not the first time that the spirit mage had jumped to her crazy accusations.
“Yeah,” Gray admitted rubbing the back of his neck, “she did have some good points so I thought that-- wait if you're not pregnant why were you sick all morning?”
“Oh, Juvia got sick on her last mission with Gajeel-kun and Lisanna, and was not feeling well this morning. Though Juvia does not usually get sick, so she felt better after a few hours. Lissana and Gajeel-kun are still sick though. That is why Levy-san brought Steele in.” That made a lot more sense. ‘It seems Lucy had missed that part’ thought Gray. He really had to stop listening to her. 
“Okay fine- but what about the cravings and the pickles. Also, you have been very tired recently. You’re always sleeping in.” continued Gray.
“Juvia has been going on more missions lately to make some money, so she is a little more tired than usual. Also, Gray-sama always craves Juvia’s chicken soup, but he is not pregnant! ” yelled Juvia. Gray’s face turned red at the comment. She wasn’t wrong, normal people have cravings too.
“Okay- Okay, then what were you talking to Levy about just now. The whole ‘I want one’ and ‘We’re in the process of having one’ with Levy. How could that not be a baby,”
“Uh about that..” Juvia blushed, “Juvia might have accidentally bought a magic car for um.. 800,000 jewels.”
“Wait, without telling me!” exclaimed Gray. She smiled shyly in response.
“Levy-san got one and Juvia liked the look, so she went and borrowed the money out of the savings and worked more missions. Juvia is sorry, she should have come to you first.” she bowed her head a little as to not meet Gray’s eyes. As much as he tried, he really couldn’t be angry at her for it. Although, he wasn’t exactly relieved at the fact that she wasn’t pregnant either. He hated to admit it, but he actually felt a little disappointed, a part of him was looking forward to raising a child with Juvia.
“Okay then… I guess this is a good thing right. A car is easier than a child. We can’t handle one right now anyway. I mean, I haven’t even proposed yet and uh-- we can wait.” Gray could see Juvia’s eyes grow wide at the word, yet.
“Does Gray-sama want to marry Juvia someday and start a family?” she asked softly like she was afraid to know the answer. It amused him to see how unsure she was. He pulled her in for an embrace, his chin resting on her head.
“With you Juvia, I want to do everything. I want to marry you. I want to travel the world with you. I want to grow old with you in my arms, and now that I think of it a few kids don’t sound so bad. I mean if you’re okay with it.”
“Juvia wants all of it too” A sheepish smile grew on Gray’s face.
“Then how about we practice a little” Juvia’s eyes grew wide with excitement. Neither Gray or Juvia got very much sleep that night, or many nights after that. 
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spine-buster · 5 years
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Alone, Together | Chapter 28 | Morgan Rielly
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A/N: I couldn’t bear to re-live too much of the playoffs so...yeah.  This is the last chapter to deal with them.  We are now moving on to the summer!  Fun and interesting shenanigans ahead!
Lmao wow. So official with ur jacket in the wag group pic. Bet u begged the other wags for a jacket and to be in the pic.
You look really cute in your jacket!  I think you’d look better if you were maybe Steph or Madison’s size though!  Other than that, super cute!
OMG you are honestly the most desperate person in the city of Toronto
pls pls pls how can I become a wag
can u give Auston my number 416 555 0123
So…how’s Scotiabank treating you?
For the love of God, sign up for a yoga class girl.  Pilates.  Start jogging.  Something.  Nothing about your body is flattering.  You can’t tell me Morgan likes all that flab.  You were always a calf but you’ve been a cow since Christmas.
You want to make it seem like you’re ‘part of the group’ of WAGs but we can all tell you’re not.  They include you to be nice but in reality, they probably don’t even speak to you outside of the arena.  To think you are isolating Morgan from his friends and teammates – and for what?  So you can have a WAG jacket one year?  So you can flaunt in front of everyone?  Morgan would be so much better off with someone who doesn’t leech off of him and who doesn’t reek of desperation.  
***
Bee didn’t know how she survived all the way up to game six.  It was a back and forth between the Leafs and the Bruins and she didn’t know how she was going to handle this game, with the Leafs being able to eliminate the Bruins if they won.  The Leafs won game three, even though at 6:15pm that same Monday, it came down that Naz had been suspended for the rest of the series – however long that was.  The boys were angry, but they tried not to let it show.  That Wednesday, they lost 6-4.  Morgan got two assists that night but they still couldn’t capitalize.  In Boston for game five, the Leafs won 2-1, with Morgan getting another assist on Kappy’s goal.  Now, with game six about to start, she was jittery.  She even felt hot in the jacket but couldn’t bear to take it off.
She was praying for an Easter miracle.  
Once everyone settled back into their seats after the singing of the anthems by Martina, her leg couldn’t stop bobbing up and down.  It was Aryne who had to lay her hand on Bee’s thigh to get her to stop.  “Are you nervous or something?” she asked sarcastically.  
“How have you done this for almost ten years?” Bee asked.  “I don’t know if I can handle it.”
“You’re going to be okay.  You get used to it,” Aryne said.  “Besides, this is actually only the fourth time John’s made the playoffs.”
“What?  Really?”
Aryne nodded her head.  “When we went to Sochi it was much more nerve-wracking.  But that’s besides the point.  You need to calm down.”
“So if they win this, they face the Columbus Blue Jackets, because the Blue Jackets swept the Tampa Bay Lightning,” Bee listed off, remembering the look of the bracket in her head.  
“Exactly.”
“Could we beat the Blue Jackets?  Like in a series?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Bee’s chest tightened.  “So…like…we could really do this.”
Aryne nodded her head.  “Really really.  But we can’t think about that right now.  We need to focus on beating the Bruins.”
Morgan opened the scoring.  It happened about ten minutes into the first period, a one timer from the blue line thanks to Willy keeping it in the Bruins zone, and Bee erupted from her seat with the crowd to scream and cheer for him, even high-fiving a man and his son who were seated in front of her.  She looked up at the jumbrotron to see him fist-bumping with the bench before they replayed the goal.  Her heart fluttered in her chest knowing that he had opened the scoring in such a big game, motivating the rest of the team.  
That didn’t last long though.  Brad Marchand scored less than two minutes later, and another goal by Krug ended the first period.  DeBrusk, still playing even though there were rumours that he had a concussion, scored in the second period.  Auston scored in the third period and tried to rally the team to tie it.  Late in the game, Morgan and Jake DeBrusk got into a little…scuffle on the ice, and DeBrusk pushed Morgan’s helmet off.  There was an exchange of words, a little pushing and shoving, and Bee couldn’t bear it.
“PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, surprising even herself at the ferocity and volume of her demand.  She stood up in her seat to watch the aftermath and the replays on the jumbotron.  Surely an opponent pulling off the helmet of another player would result in a penalty?  “WHAT FUCKING BULLSHIT!” she screamed at the top of her lungs again.
“Bee, there are children present,” Aryne grabbed her hand.
“FUCK YOU DEBRUSK!” she shouted one more time before sitting down, huffing and puffing in anger as they showed a replay yet again.  “I guess game two let us all know the Bruins can do whatever the fuck they want and get away with it!” she said loudly, but not as loud as before.  She looked at Aryne.  “Can you believe this?!”
“Yes Bee, it’s game six of the playoffs,” she giggled slightly.  “This is the most I’ve seen you get riled up about hockey ever.  I think Mo needs to start getting more physical more often,” she wiggled her eyebrows.
Bee snorted.  If only Aryne knew.  “I just…nobody’s allowed to touch him.  Nobody.  I’ll deal with them myself if I have to.”
Unfortunately, the Leafs couldn’t capitalize and Brad Marchand scored again.  The final was 4-2.  They’d be going back to Boston.
Another game 7.  
Bee could see the looks on everyone’s faces as the buzzer rang to signal the end of the game.  The girls who had been through this before – Alannah, Lucy, Madison, and others – were not smiling.  At all.  There was a look of worry mixed with dread on their faces.  As fans filed out of the arena, the girls all sat in their places, staring at each other.  Nobody got up – Bee didn’t think anyone had the strength to.  There was always a lot of media after the games, anyway, so there was no point in leaving when the fans did.
Aryne, forever the optimist, saw the look on Bee’s face.  “They can do this, Bee.  I know they can,” she said.  “We need to stay positive.”
“I know they can.  The question is if they will,” Bee mused.  “What if they get those awful referees from game two again?”
“They won’t.  The NHL will never let them officiate another game again, they were so bad.  We need to stay positive.  They have all the tools they need.  They can beat the Bruins.”
Bee wished she could be as positive.
***
Morgan wasn’t a man of many words when he came out of the locker room.  He gave Bee a kiss and said goodbye to everyone before they descended down to the parking garage.  Rocco and Clarette had invited them over for an Easter dinner, and that’s where they were supposed to be headed.  But Bee could see the dejected look on Morgan’s face and the bags under his eyes.  She knew he would probably rather just go home.  She knew he was tired, aching, that he now had a flight to catch tomorrow to go into enemy territory.  
As they got into the car, she looked over at him and put her hand over his.  “I can call Clarette and tell her you’re tired if you want to go home,” Bee said softly.  “They’ve been watching.  They’ll understand.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Morgan, come on,” she said.  “If you want to just go home we can go home.  Or I can take the subway up myself and you can go and rest.”
“No no no,” he said, flipping over his hand to hold hers and bring it to his lips to kiss.  “We promised them we’d be there for Easter dinner.  Clarette’s probably made four different courses.  We’re going.  I’m okay.”
“Morgan.”
“Briony, I want to take my mind off of hockey right now,” he said, his voice sombre, firm, and resolved.  “I want to be around family.”
She couldn’t protest.  Not when she heard the tone of his voice, not as he cradled her hand in his against his chest, not as he looked at her with his blue eyes.  She couldn’t do it.  “Promise me you’ll tell me you want to go the second you want to?  Don’t feel obligated to stay longer.”
“I will Bumblebee.  I promise,” he said, kissing her hand one last time before pulling out of the parking spot.
When they arrived, it was Rocco who opened the door to greet them.  “Mr. Goal Scorer tonight!” he beamed as he hugged Morgan.  “Great goal tonight!”
“Thank you,” Morgan smiled.
“And you!” Rocco turned his attention to Bee.  “That jacket looks great!”  She spun around so he could see the giant Maple Leafs logo on the back and he oohed and awed at it.  “Can I buy one too?”
Bee giggled as she showed him the ‘Rielly’ patch on her arm.  “You have to start dating Morgan to get one.”
“He’s handsome.  That could happen.”
They broke out into a fit of laughter as Sarah Jessica Barker came running towards them, bringing with her Angie, Mason, and Joshua.  Morgan bent down to pet her and coo at her while Angie, Mason, and Josh looked on with amused expressions on their faces.  “Sorry about the game,” Angie said as Sarah Jessica Barker had enough of Morgan and moved on to Bee.  
“What are we having for dinner?” Morgan asked.  His way of letting her know he didn’t want to talk about it.  Angie got the hint.  So did everyone else.  
“We’re Italian.  We have lamb on Easter,” Rocco informed him.
“We’re also French-Canadian,” Clarette piped up from the kitchen.  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.  “We are also French-Canadian and have butter tarts to offset the Italian lamb.”
“That’s what I like to hear, Clarette!  Dessert!” Morgan called out to her as she appeared from the kitchen.  “I’m sorry we had to push this back so late because of me.”
“Late?  What late?  It’s barely 7.  Italians have dinner at 9pm,” she said, side-eyeing her husband.  “But everything is ready, so everyone should go sit at the table.”
***
pls tell ur boyfriend the next game is kind of important and if he could step it up that would be nice
lemme guess…ur going to boston on mo’s dime for game 7?  U have a job yet u never work. So lazy.
No matter how hard you try you will never be as pretty as Steph or Cassie.  Don’t know why you think you are.  Don’t bother.  
You know all the other girls are talking about you behind your back, right?  Word on the street is you’re the most desperate social climber ever, and when the playoffs are over, you’ll be gone too.  On to the next hockey player, slut.
***
Bee didn’t have anymore nail polish on.  She had peeled off her shellac from sheer anxiety.  Going into the second period, the Bruins were up 2-0, and then John had scored thanks to an assist from Tyler.  Going into the third, it was 2-1.  The boys could do this.  They could do this.  They could do this.
Bee decided against getting together with any of the girls.  She was too nervous and she didn’t want any of them to see just how worried, panicky, and jumpy she was.  She was alone in the apartment and, honestly, right now, she preferred it that way.  She could yell at the TV without anyone looking at her.  She could yell stupid stuff, stuff that probably didn’t even make sense, and nobody would say anything.  She could cry in peace if she wanted to.  She also knew that, regardless of the outcome, the boys would be on a flight after the game, coming home in the middle of the night.  She wanted to be home for Morgan.  Regardless of the outcome.
When the third period started Bee was optimistic.  But less than three minutes in, Sean Kuraly scored.  3-1.  The boys could still do this.  They could come back.
Then Charlie Coyle scored near the end.  4-1.  Bee’s chest tightened.  That was what the score was during that awful game seven in 2013 before the Bruins came back.  Maybe the boys could do the same, with much, much less time.
Patrice Bergeron.  An empty-netter.  5-1.  The Bruins fans went wild.  A waterfall of tears streamed down Bee’s cheeks.
The Toronto Maple Leafs had been eliminated from the playoffs.
Despite her sadness and despite her pain, she kept the TV on.  The stupid panellists with their stupid opinions provided background noise for her tears, but she didn’t listen to anything they had to say.  Why would she when they were trashing Fred, saying he was incapable of being a “game seven goalie”, whatever the fuck that meant, when just two weeks earlier they were calling him the best goaltender in the world?  Why would she when all they did was go over every single little thing the Leafs did wrong?  Why would she listen to them completely tear apart and break down a team they all relied on for their hefty paycheques?  She wasn’t stupid – she knew how sports media worked.  She knew the Leafs provided rating and that their ratings were through the roof because of this – they’d probably be getting some nice bonus cheques.  They were all feckless – all of them.  They changed their opinions on the fly, whenever it suited them, whenever it got them more ratings and more viewers who ended up adopting their shit opinions.  ‘Experts my ass’ Bee thought.  Especially that Nik Kypreos guy.  What an idiot.
And then Morgan appeared on the screen.
She wanted to scream.  Were they actually interviewing him right now?  Really?!  Not even two minutes after the end of the game and they had paraded him out of the locker room into some hallway to answer asinine questions about another heartbreaking game seven?  ‘LET THEM GRIEVE!’ she wanted to shout.  ‘LET THEM FUCKING GRIEVE!’  But no.  Apparently that was impossible.  They wanted every sound bite they could get just so they could talk about it for fifteen minutes afterwards.  Because they Leafs were money.  That’s all they were to these people – sound bites and ratings and money.  They weren’t just hockey players dejected after a loss; they weren’t men who put everything they had into the game, into the entire series, into the entire season; worse yet, they weren’t human beings with complex emotions who didn’t want microphones and cameras shoved in their faces as they dealt with the insurmountable fact that they had let an entire city down.  Money.
She looked at him and how dejected he looked, how heavy his breathing was underneath all his gear.  She wanted to shatter every plate in their kitchen against a wall in anger.  When he was finally released and went back to the locker room, she shed more tears.  God knows how many reporters would be waiting for them in there, too.
She just wanted him home.  God, all she wanted was for him to come home.
***
When Bee heard the door unlock at almost 2am, she jumped off the couch but stood stoic in her place.  She watched as Morgan pushed open the door, lugging himself into his apartment, letting the door close behind him.  The first thing he looked for was her.  She was all he wanted to see.
“Baby…” she mumbled, running over to him.  “Baby, baby, come here.”
She grabbed on and attached herself to him like he was going to float away.  He immediately wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her neck.  He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him tightly.  Almost absent-mindedly, he walked them over to their bedroom before collapsing on the bed.  He didn’t let go.  She felt tears on her neck as they lay there, wrapped into each other, and she began running her fingers through his hair and playing with the tufts of hair at the base of his neck, knowing it was soothing for him.  It was all she could do; all she knew she could do.  There wasn’t anything she could say that would make him feel better.  There were no words for this.  No words besides “I love you,” which she whispered to him over and over again, for however long she needed to.
***
“We couldn’t do it.”
That’s what Morgan kept repeating.  
“We couldn’t do it.”
Bee couldn’t rewrite history.  “You couldn’t do it now.  But you can and you will.  One day.”  It was all she could offer.
“We couldn’t do it.”
***
Bee had pre-emptively taken the day off.  She didn’t need to worry about work and, quite frankly, didn’t exactly want to right now.  She got a text from Mark early that morning.  Tell Morgan we were rooting for him all the way.  We’re proud of him.  He’s one of the only guys who showed up to play the game the entire series.
Bee read the text out to him.  He said nothing.
***
Bee only left the bed to make him breakfast – some Greek yogurt with an organic granola mix and some fresh raspberries and sliced bananas.  When she brought it to him, still in bed, she saw he was in and out of sleep.  She could only imagine he was trying to survive on his last legs of energy by this point.  She placed the bowl on the side table before helping him out of his clothes so he could at least be comfortable in his sleep.  He moved around absent-mindedly to help her, but she knew he wasn’t there.  He probably thought he was hallucinating.  When she was finished, she cupped his face in the palm of her hand gently.  She’d put the granola mix in the fridge to eat later.  
“Y’know what?” he mumbled out suddenly, barely audible or understandable through his fatigue, his eyes cracking open only slightly to look at her.
“What?”
“I wanna take care’f you.”
Bee didn’t understand what he meant.  She thought for sure he was dreaming already and in some form of sleep paralysis or lucid dreaming.  “What are you talking about?”
“I wanna give you s’much you c’n quit your job n’do s’mthin’ you really love.  Cause I love you.”
Bee was completely still as the words escaped his mouth.  Before she could come back to, or say anything, she heard his soft snores.
***
It was a few days until Morgan returned to his normal self.  Well, semi-normal.  
The locker clear out was scheduled for Saturday, April 27th, and because they were leeches who didn’t know when to stop sucking the life out of something, the media was expected there.  Mike Babcock would hold a press conference.  The summer rumour mill began of who was staying and who was not; who was going to earn these many millions here and who was going to earn those many millions somewhere else.  Morgan spoke to the media, as he always did.  Off-camera they asked about what he would get up to the entire summer over in Vancouver, since naturally he’d go home.  ‘Lots of golfing, probably,’ he’d answered.  ‘Dad’s birthday at the beginning of June.  Long walks with Maggie where she gets to swim – she loved swimming.  She’s queen of the ocean, too.  Lots of poolside days.  Good wine on the deck.  Back to Toronto for the Pride Parade.  Fishing trips too, as always.  But mostly just stick around home.’
Of course Morgan would go home.  He deserved more than anybody to go home to his family, to take in the fresh air of the B.C. coast and rejuvenate himself.  He deserved to relax; to kick his feet up and sleep with Maggie in his lap; to take the boat out to Gibsons for oysters or to chase pods of whales again.  He deserved to go fishing.  Go golfing.  Do anything he wanted to do.  Isolate himself from the outside world, from hockey.  Live through summer on his rules, how he wanted to.  
She just wondered how their life in Toronto factored into that.
It was a long flight, from Toronto to Vancouver, and Morgan was meant to relax.  She didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything he didn’t want to do.  They had events that they needed to attend together, sure – like Zach’s wedding at the end of June – but she wondered how all that would factor into him taking time for himself.  She knew they would work it out, like they always did, but it was four months of summer that needed to be accounted for and planned.  There was only so much time she could take off at work – they both knew that.  So she’d have to stay in Toronto.  She wondered if his schedule would be like how she assumed last summer’s was, when she met him.  A bit of time here, a bit of time there, a bit of time anywhere he wanted to be.  
When the locker clean out was all said and done, Bee and Morgan sat together in their apartment, her legs draped over his.  It was all she thought about on the way home.  Since the reporter had asked the question.  “What are we going to do this summer?”
“Well, we have Zach’s wedding and--”
“You deserve to go home,” Bee blurted out.  She was trying desperately not to let her tears fall.  Being without him for long stretches of time was going to be hard – just like it was during the season – but he needed it more than anything.  “You deserve to go home and relax for a bit.  You’ve had a tough year outside of hockey, too.”
She watched as his brows furrowed at her words.  “What was so tough outside of hockey?” he asked.
“Me.  The break-in.  My mom dying.  You didn’t deserve to have to deal with that and--”
He cut her off by giving her a kiss.  “Do you mean outside of hockey, when I met the love of my life?”
She couldn’t handle his words.  The tears escaped her slowly, and immediately she wiped them away with the backs of her hands.  Morgan leaned forward again, capturing her lips in another kiss, and soon, they couldn’t tear themselves away from each other.  It was only when they had to break for air that he spoke again.  “I am going to go home, Briony.  But only for a bit.  I’ll be back and forth, but it’ll be okay.”
“You need to take this time to relax,” she stressed, putting her hand on his chest.  “You can’t go back and forth all the time.  This is your time off.”
“I’ll be fine.  It’s nothing that I’m not used to,” he said.  “Besides, you know I can’t go too long without seeing you.”
She sighed again.  “I can’t go too long without seeing you either.  But your priority shouldn’t be me, your priority should be yourself.”
“Hey, you’re always my priority,” he said, grabbing hold on her hand on his chest.  “You’re my home now too, Bumblebee.  Don’t you ever forget it.”
She internalized his words as much as she could.  You’re my home now too, Briony.  She never thought she’d hear those words – that someone would consider her home.  But of course Morgan did, and Morgan was the one to say it about her.  And even though she knew that in her close future she’d be spending more time than she liked alone, she knew that once he came back to her, they’d go back to being themselves, together.  “Let’s…let’s take out our calendars.”
“Bumblebee.”
“I want to see when you’ll be gone.  I know you’re out in PEI with Dion an the Boys and Girls Club, and I know--”
“Bumblebee--”
“Please Morgan.  Just take out your calendar.  For me.”
He didn’t fight it.  He moved to take his phone out of his pocket and he opened the calendar.  “I’m going to see if I can catch a flight to Vancouver mid-week, okay?  It can give us a couple of more days together,” he said.  Bee nodded her head, cuddling more into him so she could lay her head on his chest, just below his shoulder.  “We don’t have much in May.  I know you have Alannah’s bachelorette party on the 11th but it’s not like I need to come to that.  I can be back in town for the long weekend the following week and stay for a while.  But then I want to be back home for dad’s birthday.  I want to take him golfing.  We always go golfing for his birthday.”
“Of course,” Bee said.  She couldn’t help but smile slightly.  “Back and forth, back and forth – it’s gonna be like hockey didn’t even stop.”
“What did I tell you?” he smirked, giving her a quick kiss.  “I’m gonna miss your cooking.”
“I’m gonna miss you eating all my cooking,” she said.  “The apartment is going to feel so empty with you gone.”
“You should get a gerbil.”
She snorted as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.  “Don’t tempt me, Morgan Rielly.  You’ll come back in May and this place will be a literal zoo.”
“If that’s what you want that’s fine by me,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her again, and again, and again.  Eventually, he pulled her on to his lap and let his hands wander underneath her shirt.  “I’m gonna miss this most,” he mumbled against her lips.
“Me too,” she agreed, her hands cupping his face so she could look at him.  He had shaved off his playoff beard, and there was only stubble now.  She ran her thumbs along his jawline.  “Gonna miss waking up to those baby blues every morning.”
He gave her another kiss.  “Gonna miss waking up with my face between your thighs.”
A smile broke out on her face.  “You’re a perv.”
“Only for you.”
***
Tick tock tick tock…who is the next hockey player you’re gonna fuck for relevancy?
I bet ur gonna try to get with auston next.  Or fred.  You’re such a slut
Now is your chance to turn into a hot girl for hot girl summer.  Join a gym ffs!!!!!!!!!!
146 notes · View notes
taesthetes · 6 years
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Hey I just need to get something off my chest and idk why I’m dumping this all on u but u seem like the nicest person on tumblr that I know but if ur uncomfortable or anything pls feel free to look over this. Lately I’ve been trying to stay away from bts and the fandom bc I feel like it’s toxic for me. It’s not like where I listen to them and follow them and obsess on a religious level but I feel like I’m more occupied w them than I should be. 1/?
After all they’re all just humans who get tired and lonely and miserable and aren’t perfect, yet we idolize them and depend on them for our happiness. Of course we should support them, but it’s to the point where it’s frickin ridiculous, like nothing exists without bts, u know what I mean? 2/?
And I’m at the point of life where t depends on me to make my own decisions and make choices that will shape my future, and I really don’t want to look back and regret wasting time watching videos and thinking about things that will essentially have no impact on my life. What I like about bts is that they seem to have a deeper motive behind just simple Kpop, but I think I’ve taken that too far to an extent where it’s become my excuse. 3/?
Bts are seven people who have worked hard to deserve recognition and truly deserve it, but they’re also seven men who have separate lives from me that I have nothing to do with. They’re people that I’ve never even met and I don’t know tbh, we only see the filtered and edited sides of them. It just feels wrong to look at the packaged versions of them and expect them to live up to my expectations or fantasies. 4/?
There’s also the aspect that they’re kpop idols, as in regardless of how different and unique they may be, they’re still going to follow the formula and act like idols who are polished and made as perfect as possible. The whole industry is based on us going crazy over their looks and dance and singing and whatever, and it’s so messed up to me that we r supposed to like them for something so superficial and in genuine. 5/?
Idk if I’m making a lot of sense rn. I just don’t think it’s right of me to force them into a mold that I’ve created in my mind and then get disappointed when they don’t comply, and expect them to be something different when this whole time, even I’ve been idolizing them based on their appearance and talents. 6/?
And then there’s the fandom, filled with a variety of people from all different backgrounds, races, ages, genders, etc. and while it’s cool to have something in common with someone, I’m just tired of having army be the only thing that defines me. When I meet someone that likes bts, it’s as if I personally don’t matter, like it doesn’t matter if I killed someone as long as I like bts. 7/?
I don’t know how to phrase this … the diversity and tolerance is amazing, but at the same time, I’d like more genuine friendships than fangirling over someone’s biceps and thighs u know. Lately I’ve been kind of falling out of listening to bts and stuff, but I find myself continuously going on social media so I can keep up with them in habit, more than being interested. I deleted Twitter and unfollowed all bts accounts on insta and tumblr, but without it I feel like I’m missing something 8/?
It’s just a cycle of me trying to discipline myself, not being able to do it, and getting sick of myself for being so pathetic. Even with fanfic, ur writing for example is literally better than like an average author, but I feel so stupid to fantasize about someone without even knowing them first. I don’t have a problem with fanfic, it’s more like I have a problem with myself reading fanfics. 9/?
I know most of my problems lie with myself, not bts or the fandom, so that’s why I’ve tried to bottle it up and pass it on but it’s really making me miserable. I know going to a fanfic author who I don’t know personally may not be the best idea, so pls don’t feel pressured by this message to do anything or say something. I think writing out my feelings and venting has made me feel a little better. 10/11
So I’m really really sorry for forcing this on you, and don’t feel obligated to do anything!! Thank u for ur amazing writing like always, and have a restful and amazing day!!! 11/11
hi, honey bee, it’s totally okay to talk to me about anything you want and also, you’re incredibly sweet for thinking that i’m the nicest person on here, thank you :’) but i really understand how you feel towards the whole fandom and bts.
yes, bts are just humans who get tired and lonely and miserable and aren’t perfect, but rather than idolizing them, it’s perfectly okay to like them for who they are as people and for the music they produce. it’s okay to appreciate someone for the work they do, like how we enjoy artwork and appreciate the artist for creating them or how we like the flowers planted in the park and appreciate the gardener for planting them.
i wouldn’t say that my happiness depends completely on them, but they do make up a little part of it because their music makes me happy. and music is supposed to make you feel things. their funny videos can make you happy, and that’s okay, too. i see stanning bts as a hobby i enjoy at times, not as my only source of happiness, because there’s so much more that makes me happy, like flowers, food, art, etc. however, depending on one thing for happiness is unhealthy, so i do agree that an obsession with bts is bad. there’s nothing wrong with supporting them, but yes, having a mindset that only bts exists is unhealthy. i just found this post that better explains how stanning a group is good and bad through the psychological point of view, and it’s pretty interesting! :D
i don’t think you’re wasting time watching videos of them. if they made you happy at the time, if they made you laugh when you were sad, then it was worth it. unless you’re choosing to watch videos 24/7 and neglecting your family, friends, academics, job, health, etc. then i don’t think it’s necessarily bad that you’re watching videos. it’s like watching your favorite tv shows or playing sports. it’s just another hobby. it has an impact on your life because it makes you happier.
i do understand your concern though as you move into a new chapter of your life. personally, i’m not as into them as i once was back in high school anymore. i did spend a good deal of time writing and posting a fic about them once a week. it really changed when i went to college though since my priorities and time commitments changed. i think you might be more occupied with them when there isn’t something else to fill that aspect in your life if that makes sense? i wasn’t particularly academically simulated in high school, so i had a lot of time on my hands even after spending time with friends and doing clubs. i got into kpop because that’s something easily accessible and it’s entertaining. but with the freedom that comes with college and harder classes, my time is filled more with going out with friends, studying, painting, spending time with my roommates, etc. and bts got less of my time.
yes, bts are people with separate lives who you may never meet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate and like them for what they do. and, they might not show everything about themselves to the public, but we can learn from the good examples they do show, such as their UNICEF work and lyrics that talk about more than just romantic love. i personally think that most of what they show is genuine, but there is a line to be drawn between enjoying the work they do and believing they are gods. but yes, i do get that their personas to the public can be fake, which is a bit /: because yeah, there are people who are in love with them and dedicate their lives to them, but we really don’t know who bts actually are.
i think, rather than idolizing them, it’s better to see them as humans and as people just like us. that tends to take away any fantasies or expectations i have of them. yes, they are kpop idols, and that’s their job. they’re just working to make a living doing what they love. yes, the industry is built upon the fans, but it’s like that with any music artist or celebrity. i think it’s okay to like bts, but not to the point where your love for them surpasses the love you have for people who are actually in your life.
and you’re making sense, don’t worry! i hope my answer makes sense, too. i think every fan goes through where you’re at right now. i had felt that way about bts and exo before, but i moved on from that and now see them as people whom i appreciate. it was just a process for me, but i think it has to do with me filling my time with other things and spending time with people i thought were more important, and my love for kpop is now just something that brightens my day a bit if i ever need it.
some fans can be very… enthusiastic, but that might just be because they don’t have anyone else to talk to about bts. but yes, i get what you’re talking about. sometimes, it’s exhausting to just talk about one thing all the time and be seen as just a bts fan, and not as your own person. but even myself, i think it’s exciting to find someone else that listens to kpop since for me, there aren’t that many people around me who do. but after the initial excitement, i’ve made many friends through our mutual love for bts. as friendships grow, we talk about other interests we have and other things we like, so we don’t always talk about kpop. many of my friendships started from a mutual interest, whether it be bts or art or a mutual dislike for a teacher or class subject haha, but it grows from there as we talk about other things and get to know each other.
it’s fun to have someone to talk about comebacks and mv’s with, but yeah, i get that there’s more to talk about. maybe you can try introducing a new topic? or going out with friends who don’t listen to bts? and hey, we can be friends if you want :D you can talk to me about your day, your favorite foods, your favorite tv shows, any pets if you have them, anything else you want! i haven’t listened to bts for a while now either, i only follow their official account on instagram, and i don’t check my tumblr for days, even months during the school year. i don’t think you have to cut them out entirely to the point where you feel like something is missing. but if you are no longer interested in them, do you have any hobbies you can use to fill up that missing feeling? maybe baking or cooking? drawing? going out with friends?
and you are not pathetic!!! you don’t have to cut off something entirely at once. it takes time, but you’ll get there. and omg alsjdhflaksdhfd thank you for saying that about my writing :’) and there’s nothing wrong with reading fanfiction! please don’t feel bad for reading it. fanfictions are just like any other stories out there, except you already have a face and a name for some characters. i personally don’t read them for the idols featured; i read them because the writing is so much better and there are so many more interesting concepts involved in fics than in books i can get from the library. 
and please don’t keep your feelings bottled up and be miserable ): you can always come talk to me if you ever feel this way. and if you have one, we can swap kakaotalk id’s if you want to talk since it might be easier to text that way :) or you can send in more asks! it’s always good to talk about your feelings, even if it isn’t comfortable at first. even if it’s not me who you talk to in the future, i hope you are able to share your feelings with someone else and not keep everything inside. you deserve to feel happy. and i’m happy to hear that you’re feeling a little better! you’re always welcome to vent into my inbox (or you can direct message me; i have it turned off for those i don’t follow, but if you send me an ask with your url, i can message you first, so we can talk that way, too, if you want!)
you don’t have to apologize; i’m just very glad that you’re feeling at least a little better now! i understand that there’s a struggle that comes when you’re dealing with something that’s been a part of your life for so long. your feelings are valid, and i have definitely felt this way before, and it’s always good to talk it out or have someone listening. and thank you so much for liking and reading my writing, sweetpea 💕 i hope you have a lovely and relaxing day as well! i hope you’re doing good, and you’re still feeling better today, honey bee 🌻💘
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