#alternatively. even this station will pass without pain. or something? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohnopoe · 3 years

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The Long Road Home | Frankie Morales

Ship: Frankie Morales x Reader Summary: After a one night stand with your best friend, it feels like everything’s going to hell... maybe you just need an escape Word Count: 5.6k+ Warnings: Angst. I looked at this doc and went ‘I haven’t hurt myself with pain for a while yet’, and just put a months worth of angst into one fic. I am sorry. Author’s Note: Oh look! It’s another super late entry to something! This time it’s for the FABULOUS @autumnleaves1991-blog and her writer Wednesday... as I post this at 3.30am on a Monday... yikes. I’m so sorry this is so late, thank you for being so kind about it! And yes, I did give up very quickly on making this gif look good. I’m too mentally done to try harder 🤣

The car was filled with a stilted silence, heavy and thick in the air-conditioned air. Never before had the awkwardness sat so oppressively, least of all with the one and only Frankie Morales at your side.

For years now, your life had been filled with laughter and smiles, of warm hugs and secret looks that hinted at inside jokes that no one had a chance of guessing. For years, your life had been plentiful with the simple fact that Frankie Morales, the kindest man you had ever known, was your best friend. Was it enough? Maybe not. But it was better than the alternative, and you knew that clearly now.

One night. It had only taken one night, to destroy the very foundations of your friendship, to send your comfortable little bubble crashing down into a cacophony of pain and agony.

Oh, the night itself was anything but agony. No, that was filled with euphoria and the sounds of absolute bliss. His taste scarred into your memory, his touch forever melted into your skin. Sleeping with your best friend might just have been the best damn thing you’d ever done, were it not for what came the morning after.

Perhaps you had been naive, waking up in his sheets, craving the warmth that had surrounded you as you both blissfully drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms. Perhaps you ought to have realised the moment you found his spot cold to the touch, but your mind was still too filled with the fuzzy drunkenness of the best damn fuck of your life.

Perhaps you should have come to realise when you slipped out into his living room, seeing him already fully dressed, sitting silently on the couch with his head in his hands, his emotions on display so clearly that it would have broken your heart right there and then, if only you’d been awake enough to see them.

But no, it wasn’t until you were forcing a reassuring smile onto your lips as you desperately begged your features not to give away the heartache you felt that your world truly came crashing down around you.

It was a mistake.

A mistake.

Of all the words he could have used, somehow that hurt the most. He didn’t claim he didn’t enjoy it, didn’t blame you for the way your lips had sought out his when he’d been looking so damn beautiful with the warmth of the fireplace dancing across his features. No, he regretted it, and that, that hurt deeper than you had expected it too.

But you had put on a brave face, reassuring him that nothing would change, that you were still his best friend, if that’s what he wanted, and you pushed the heartache away until you were safely secured in your apartment, where the tears could fall until they ran out, until there was nothing but your empty sobs to fill the echoing apartment, as the man you loved seemed further away than ever before.

A week passed, then another, but nothing got easier. Your interactions seemed awkward now, the overwhelming reminder of what you had done hanging over the two of you like a thick blanket, threatening to suffocate you both.

It was impossible to move forwards, to think of anything but him.

The anguish you felt only grew as your friends seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong between you. It was Will who came to you, a silent support when your world was still crashing down around you, but you never dared whisper so much as a word of what had happened.

How could you ever guess it would get worse?

How could the all consuming pain you felt ever grow to something more when you already found yourself mourning the ease of your friendship every night when you sat alone at home?

Your answer came in the form of a beautiful stranger.

She was kind, gentle, beautiful… everything Frankie deserved, and what’s worse, she seemed to truly like him.

You hadn’t meant to spy, hell, you hadn’t even known he was going to be there. You were just at the cafe to pick up some lunch when you saw them, laughing and smiling, hand in hand at a small booth in the corner.

He didn’t even notice you as you entered your favourite cafe, the same cafe that you had spent countless afternoons in with the man who was still your everything, even now, even as he sat there with another.

Strength was becoming a part of you. You could hold off the tears, hold off the wails of anguish until you were safely at home, until you were alone once more.

But your strength was waning. How long could you continue on like this, mourning your friendship with the man you had secretly loved for years? How long would it be until he introduced this beautiful stranger to the boys? How long would it be until you had to force a smile as he fell in love, as he found himself marrying her?

There was only so long you could be strong when the object of your pain sat so close, yet so far.

Perhaps it wasn’t your most thought out plan. Perhaps you ought to have put a little more care into your actions, but you needed to get away, needed to be free from the anguish that had plagued you for over a month now.

Working freelance was a wonderful thing when it meant you could quite literally pack up and work anywhere. However, it was not the best when it came to stopping you from making a rash decision.

Clothes and essentials packed up in your car, you didn’t give yourself a moment to think as you fled the town you had called home for so long.

Was it a permanent answer to your problems? Hell no. Did it, realistically, cause more issues than it would solve? Sure. But this wasn’t the time for critical thinking, this was the time for an escape.

It had all been going so well.

For hours, you drove.

The chaos of the city fell behind you, the long open road ahead. Your phone filled your car with music, allowing you to fill your mind with anything but thoughts of home, and the thought that you might just find freedom from your agony seemed tangible.

With the windows down, the fresh air licked at your skin, cool and refreshing, filled with promises of renewal.

With each passing hour the crowds thinned and the light fell low.

A quick pull into a gas station had you filled up with fuel, snacks, and the motivation to continue on, moving ever forwards, even though no destination was set in your mind.

Perhaps you should have found a hotel for the night, somewhere safe to stay until morning came, but you were determined; the need to get away spurring you ever onwards in your pursuit of something you could not name.

Night fell, and even the houses spilled away into nothing, your only companions the rich sand that surrounded you, and the road that continued on into the horizon.

Yes, this was what you needed.

It was all going so well, until it wasn’t.

The headlights began to flicker, that was your first clue that something was amiss. Then it was the clock, staggering between minutes.

You weren’t particularly mechanically minded, there wasn’t exactly a need for it when your best friend was always there to fix whatever hiccups your car decided to adopt, but even you knew it was time to pull over.

The air was cold, colder than you ever would have expected in the depths of the desert, but then, with the sun slipping past the horizon, you could hardly be surprised to find the temperature dipping too. Opening the bonnet gave no answers, only a steady slew of steam that drifted upwards at the sudden release, only furthering your fears.

Well, that certainly didn’t seem good.

Perhaps you could find a mechanic or a garage, surely there was another gas station somewhere along the long and dusty road. But the moment you hit the ignition, the car stalled. Another attempt, another stall. The engine refused to budge.

This was not how things were meant to be going.

Your hand hit the steering wheel with fervour, doing more to hurt you than to dissipate your growing anger.

This was meant to be your escape, your freedom from everything that was weighing you down, but now even your car seemed to be working against you.

The sun was now fully eclipsed by the horizon, and there you were, stuck on the side of an empty highway, alone and crying your frustrations into your steering wheel as, once more, your emotions got the better of you.

Someone would come, they had to. It wasn’t as if the stretch of road was forgotten and beyond repair, it was still a popular stretch… for some.

Locked in your car, with no engine to run your heater, you went for your phone, hoping you could call for help. Picking you up hours away from home wasn’t exactly the kind of favour you could put on anyone, but the boys were never ones to say no to a person in need, least of all one of their best friends. Perhaps you could call Will, see if he could pick you up or help you get a tow.

The black screen of death was the last thing you needed. Plugged into the car’s power, it seemed even it wasn’t immune to whatever had eaten away at your car’s battery.

So there you were, stuck on the side of the road, alone, desolate, and now without any means of communication.

Perfect.

Hours passed, or at least, you assumed they did, with nothing but silence as your companion, and suddenly, all those thoughts and memories you had been pushing away filled your mind with an aching determination.

Memories of nights curled up in Frankie’s side as you laughed at the stupidity of couples in films, as you hid your face in his neck as he laughed at yet another horror film he insisted wasn’t that bad.

Memories of nights when the world felt like it was crashing down around you as yet another relationship failed, and you found solace in the warm hugs of your best friend and the sweet taste of ice-cream with whatever alcohol was in the house.

So much of your life had revolved around your best friend, and here you were, weeks without so much as a word shared between you, desperately searching for something to fill the void within you.

In the dark of the night, you could admit this wasn’t your smartest plan. With the cold air struggling to make its way into the insulation of your car, even you knew you should have at least told someone you were going. Will wouldn’t have judged you, at least, not outwardly. Benny would have come with you, given the chance. Santi, well, Santi would have read far too much into it and probably figured out exactly what was breaking you down…

And then there was Frankie. Frankie who would have listened, who would have held you as you cried, who would have whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance until you no longer felt the need to escape at all. At least, the old Frankie, your Frankie, would have.

Now, everything was so different. What would he have said if he knew you were leaving so suddenly? Would he have realised it was because of him? Would he even care?

The darkness of the night seemed to match your darkened mood, allowing the heartache to consume you, to plague your mind until a restless sleep fell over you.

Dreams and nightmares melded into one another, happy memories turning sour with rejection, those four words haunting you with every attempt at happiness.

This was a mistake.

How could a voice you loved so dearly bring words of such pain? How could he be everything good and everything horrible, all at once?

A bright light, and a deep, loud sound shook you from your slumbers. A truck was passing, a truck!

Perhaps they could help, perhaps they could- your sleep filled mind suddenly plagued you with images of your body chopped up into tiny pieces, lost to the desert and never seen again…

Ok, maybe wariness was the way to go.

But it was slowing down, past you by some hundred meters, but slowing to a stop nonetheless.

With the taser Santi had bought you years ago held tightly in your grip for protection, you watched as a smaller light came towards you, footsteps echoing behind it on the empty road.

You could do this, you said to yourself, unable to fool even yourself with your attempt at optimism.

The man seemed alright, from what you could tell. A sympathetic smile, and a safe distance away so as not to scare you, he seemed as non-threatening a stranger as you could hope for. But you couldn’t shake the warnings the boys had given you over the years.

“Never, and I mean never get in a car with a stranger,” Santi had invaded your space as he drunkenly forced his advice upon you.

“What if I don’t want them to be a stranger?” you had replied coyly, loving the way the group of men, who had taken it upon themselves to act rather like older brothers had squirmed uncomfortably in their seats at your response.

“If they’re a stranger, they’re not good enough for you,” Santi had replied, his gaze flittering around the group as if struggling to leave his sentence there. “If you don’t know them, keep it that way. You’re safety is more important than your- than your-”

“Than your sex life,” Will finished with a roll of his eyes, never ceasing to be amused by the way Pope struggled at the idea of you having sex.

You didn’t dare open your door, and with the engine out of commission, opening the window was an impossibility, and so it was a conversation of yelling in the dark empty desert.

“You alright there?” his cheery tone put you at ease more than it ought, but the man was clearly aware you were alone, and equally aware that his large frame could easily be construed as intimidating.

Half of you was ready to nod in response, to claim you were just fine and not give anything away. But, well, even the threat of being murdered seemed a little less impactful when you knew, realistically, you needed help.

“Broken down,” you yelled from behind the safety of your locked door.

“You called someone to get ya yet?” he actually looked concerned at that, but then a thought seemed to flit through his mind, so loud that it was shown across his features as he second guessed his words. His southern twang resonated loudly as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, hand barely missing the full grey beard that looked oddly reminiscent of Santa Claus. “Or ya need a lift or somethin’?”

“Actually,” the trepidation was clear even as your voice echoed in the car. What you needed wasn’t exactly easy, and, while he certainly didn’t seem dangerous, Santi’s words still rung clear in your mind. “You wouldn’t have a phone I could use, would you?”

His smile was reassuring, easing your worries more than it ought to do. Broken with missing teeth and crows feet that showed the man clearly smiled just as often as he could, it was almost tempting to take him up on his offer. But he was nodding before you could second guess yourself.

“You wait just here, I’ll go get it.”

The moment he was gone, relief flooded you, easing your wound up shoulders, and giving you a final glimpse at hope. Now all you had to do was call someone you trusted, someone who wouldn’t mind a call at the ass-break of dawn.

Will still felt like the safest option, even if he did mind, he’d never say it, and you could always make it up to him with a carton of beer.

Your hand reached for your phone, ready to bring up his number, when realisation struck you. Dead. It was dead. That was the whole damn reason you needed another’s phone in the first place.

A groan escaped you as you realised, once again, just how badly your escape was going.

A knock on the door woke you from your pity party, an empathetic look mixing with bemusement as the truck driver watched you jump in shock.

“Here, I’ll pop this on your hood. I’ll just be over there,” he paused to point back towards his truck, “you just holler when you’re done, ok darlin’?”

And then he was gone, his phone large and clunky on the hood of your car as his flashlight bounced light off the road with every uneven step he took.

Getting out quickly, you grabbed the phone before returning to the safety of the locked car. Ok, so you needed someone who’s number was memorised, someone who would answer, someone… fuck.

“You can drop me off here,” your voice was soft and uncertain, barely breaking past a whisper, and yet echoing in the silence of the car. The first words spoken in an hour, hanging so heavily between you that you almost wished you could suffocate once more in the overwhelming silence from before.

His hand crashed against the top of the steering wheel; anger, raw and unrestrained, shining through as he clenched his jaw to swallow words he might regret.

“I’m not leaving you at some shitty garage,” the words were grit out, harsher than you had ever heard him before. His emotions, once bottled up and held deep within, were now clear for all to see, even as he refused to so much as glance in your direction. “I’m taking you home.”

“Frankie, I-” you cut your words off at the sudden glare that was thrown your way, gulping down the fight you had been willing to make in order to make your point. You had never seen him like this, even on his darkest days, he had never spewed forth an anger so heated and vile that it had you almost scared to speak.

And so you fell back into silence once more, letting the empty road fill your gaze with its monotonous landscape, desperately pleading with it to help clear your mind of the whirlwind of emotions that brewed within.

Perhaps you ought to have wished it upon Frankie instead.

Just as you thought the silence had begun to settle, some ten minutes later, he exploded once more, passionately angry in a way that had no right to pierce your heart as it did.

“The hell were you thinking, running off like that?” he practically spat the words out, wondering aloud rather than directing the question at you. But still, it had you fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. His anger was new, but somehow that didn’t hurt half as much as the disappointment you heard now as he rolled his fists over the steering wheel.

You could practically see the way his mind whirled with thoughts, his gaze flittering over the road as he did his best to stay in control.

“Pull over,” your words were barely a whisper louder than the last time you had spoken, but there was a determination in them now.

Frankie merely scoffed in response, shaking his head as if the thought was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“I’m not- I’m not going to rush off, just- please Frankie,” and if your tone sounded more desperate than it ever had before, well, so be it.

A glance was thrown in your direction, filled with suspicion, as if he were trying to see whether you were telling the truth, whether you were simply looking for another chance to flee from his life. But you met his gaze, soft determination filling your own as you silently pleaded for him to do as you say, before he ended up causing a crash.

With a sigh, and the most unnecessary use of a turn signal you had ever witnessed, Frankie eased the car to the side of the road, making a show of turning off the ignition before he turned to you, watching you so intently that his very gaze seemed to melt into your skin.

“I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Thinking, you asked- I- I wasn’t thinking. I just-” you sighed. Unable to meet his searching gaze, your focus fell to your fingers, fiddling anxiously in your lap in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pent up energy that was brewing within you. “I needed to get away from everything.”

I needed to get away from you.

“And you didn’t think to let someone know?” his anger was radiating throughout the car, hot and fevered, and it almost made you feel guilty, almost. “Do you have any idea how it felt to hear your voice on a stranger’s phone? To know you were trapped, alone, hours away- You should have told me.”

“Told you?” you couldn’t help the scoff that fell from your lips at that. Perhaps you should have told someone, but of all the people in the world you could have informed of your sudden trip, he was hardly an option. “Frankie, we don’t even talk anymore!”

“What are you-”

“Ever since that night, you’ve been distant,” you interrupted, refusing to accept his attempt at ignorance. After years of practically living in each other’s pockets, there was no way he could simply not notice the time that had passed since you last spoke. “Hell, it’s like I don’t even exist anymore! We haven’t spoken in weeks. Weeks, Frankie!”

“Well I-” he tried once more, but even he stumbled for a response to that. It was true, and there was no denying it, no matter how much he wished he could.

But the dam was broken now, emotions and words flooding out, filling the car where once silence lay.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like? To lose your best friend all because of a mistake,” the word was spat with more aggression than you had intended, but it stung to think about it. The very word was tainted now, filled with the memory of his forlorn face as he had uttered it into the morning light.

You didn’t notice the way he gulped at your words, as he desperately tried to alleviate the way his throat suddenly felt drier than the desert that surrounded you.

“I am trying my hardest to keep it together,” you continued, your voice steely now as you spoke resolutely, staring out at the long road ahead, refusing to acknowledge the steady stream of tears that made their way down your face.

“I am trying so fucking hard to not break every second of every day, and the moment I do something for myself, the moment I try and accept that I need to move on from my best friend, the world just screams ‘no’. I don’t get to just move on like nothing ever happened, I don’t get to go on dates with beautiful women who hold my hand and look at me like I’m the world. I get to suffocate under the knowledge that I’m in love with a man who thinks I’m a mistake. So, forgive me if I needed to get away from it all. Forgive me if I needed an escape from the never ending circle of pain that it is to simply survive.”

Each word seemed to burn your tongue as it escaped you, a fiery, fierce explosion filled with all the things you had kept secret for too long. It was so damn much, too much, perhaps, but then… it was a relief. After years of keeping your feelings to yourself, they were finally free, out in the atmosphere and untethered from the confines of your mind.

Was it the best way to let them out? Probably not. But after holding them down for so long, it was liberating to let go, even if you knew no good would come from it.

The silence that followed was, surprisingly, not the worst reaction you could have expected from your spiel. In fact, in respect to the alternatives that raced through your mind, it didn’t seem bad at all.

Perhaps you could continue like this. Perhaps you could make it home in silence, with your secret no longer a secret anymore.

Perhaps you could face tomorrow, even if it meant you could never face him again.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, not now that the words were out there, that he was aware of just how long you had harboured feelings for him. You couldn’t dare see the disappointment or disgust in his features as he struggled to find a way to let you down easy.

“You’re not a mistake,” the words were so soft that they took a moment to register in your mind.

But you knew that tone, it was the same tone you heard when Frankie’s world was crashing down around him. It was the same tone that crept out of him after hours of silence the night he came home from Columbia, turning up on your doorstep disheveled and broken and oh so silent that it had hurt to witness.

You wanted to scoff at the words, an easy attempt at placating you after you had practically offered your heart on a platter, baring your very soul to him, but for that tone.

There was no room for doubt or fear when he spoke like that, no room for anything but sheer acceptance. He believed what he was saying with his entire being, and you wished you didn’t know him well enough to tell.

It would be so easy to be angry, to ignore those words as he had ignored your admission, to doubt him and call him out on it, to ask the question your heart begged for the answer to… then why say it in the first place?

Wiping a tear from your cheek in a hurried movement, appalled at just how wet your skin felt, and the fact that your emotions had betrayed you so easily, you merely shook your head, still not daring to look his way.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, forcing your attention out the passenger window to the seemingly never ending sea of sand. “Next time I’ll tell someone, ok?” your voice was small, insecure, each word focused on entirely the wrong thing. “And I’ll get my stupid car fixed too.”

Was it a poor attempt at humour? Yes. But you were desperate. You needed to end this conversation, needed to get back to the comfort of your bed where you could allow the tears that seemed to haunt you to fall once more as you accepted the heartache that only grew with his silence.

“Next time,” the words seemed to die on his tongue, voice shaky as his hand reached out for your own, pulling your attention towards him as he grasped it tightly on your lap.

There was a desperation in his gaze now, a determination that you hear him, that you take each word he offered to heart.

“Next time, we both go.”

A scoff of laughter fell from your lips, your head shaking even as an incredulous smile dared to show itself in the corners of your lips.

“Frankie,” you sighed his name, gaze falling to your joint hands, to the way his thumb ran over your knuckles, even as he held your hand so tightly. “You’re missing the point of me getting away entirely.”

And then, for the first time since he had pulled up next to your broken down car, he smiled.

“I’m not,” the lilt of his voice almost tempted you to glance towards him, amusement dancing in the corners of his tone as he sought you out.

“Frankie,” you started once more, although you weren’t quite sure what you planned to say. How could you begin to explain your need for freedom from him?

“I was wrong,” he shook his head, more to himself than anything, as he spoke softly. “I made two mistakes that night-”

Would this man ever cease to shatter your heart? Surely it was already in pieces smaller than the grains of sand that sat outside your door.

“I should never have said it was a mistake, and I should have told you the truth.”

“The truth…” it came out more as a statement than a question, as if you were testing the very words on your tongue. Even with your focus flittering between his intense gaze, locked onto his very being you could still hear the suspicion in your tone. What truth would you learn if he continued? Would it hurt you further, or heal the shattered remains of your heart? Could you even risk considering the latter?

Your sights fell, focused on the warmth of his hand in yours, on the comfort he was trying to bring you, even if this was the moment your world came crashing down around you. Perhaps, with his hand in yours, you could bear it this time. After all the times your world felt as if it were imploding within you, perhaps you could face it if he just kept holding your hand.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you.”

“Frankie, please don’t-” you could see what he was doing, softening the blow, reminding you how much you meant to him. You were his best friend, and he loved you, just as he loved Santi or Will or Benny… minus the whole one night stand issue.

Your hand was stock still in his, unable to clench onto the one thing that could keep you together and break you apart all at once. It was still despite the way his thumb still ran over your knuckles, desperate to soothe and reassure as he had done time and time again. And it was the only thing you could focus on.

The sound of him shifting in his seat was both deafening and oddly muted as you trained your focus on your joined hands that sat in your lap.

His other hand reached over, his touch so light as it traced against your wet cheek that it had you closing your eyes without a thought.

“Hey,” his voice was broken now, rough and raw with emotion that you didn’t dare let yourself focus on. The touch of his hand felt stronger now as it dipped to your chin, silently begging at you to look his way. Silence sat between you as he waited, with a patience only Frankie knew, for you to give in to his plea.

Even here, stuck in the middle of the desert with tears flowing freely down your cheeks, you could never truly deny Frankie anything.

Your eyes opened slowly, painfully so, but the sight that greeted you was somehow worse than the unknowing blackness you had before.

He looked worse than he sounded, an echo of his worst days, his face haunted with a mirage of emotions that you never wished him to experience. And for a moment you wished you could take it all back. The relief you felt at finally telling him how you felt, the way your heart screamed at no longer having to suffer in silence… none of that was worth it if it was causing this pain to the man you adored.

His smile was small as it crept onto his lips. You could see the uncertainty in the way his eyes flickered over your features. But his hand that still sat in your lap held your hand with a determination that was meant to reassure, although you couldn’t quite tell if it was meant to reassure you or him.

“I have loved you since the moment we met,” he repeated, pausing as he took a deep breath. “And I have been in love with you for almost as long.”

Your eyes met his without a thought, needing to see whether there was truth in his words, needing to see whether he meant what he was saying, or if he was simply doing what he could to keep you safe and by his side.

But there was no lie in his eyes, no fear that you could see past his words into a hollow land of half truths. No, the only fear that sat there was trepidation, anxiety… timidity.

What if you didn’t believe him? What if, after all you had both said, after all that had happened you didn’t want him?

But how could you not?

Frankie, the man who had been at your side through thick and thin, the man who had driven for hours to pick you up when your car had decided it no longer wanted to work… he was still your everything, he was your Frankie.

Hours of exhaustion and desperation, filled with tears of heartbreak and frustration, slipped aside, replaced with the smallest of smiles.

“You love me, huh?” the teasing lilt to your tone surprised even you, but the way his entire being lit up at the words was addictive. Your features seemed to mirror his, smile growing until it was all you knew, until the happiness you felt seemed to chase away the anguish you had felt for so long.

His hand tightened in yours, and finally, you moved with it, squeezing reassuringly as you watched emotions dance over his features.

“Honey,” he stopped, pulling your joint hands to his lips as he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your palm, never letting his gaze drop from yours for so much as a moment. “I’m crazy about you.”

#writer wednesday #Frankie Morales #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #Triple Frontier #My fic

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usernoneexistent · 2 years

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A/N: Okay, so Alvina is here, @oneirataxia-girl OC and I realised that some things are different from Alvita’s story so let’s call this an alternative timeline from each other where the relationships are the same but the whole missing brother and vaults thing are slightly different same goes for others who will be appearing throughout.

OCs mentioned: Carewyn Cromwell @carewyncromwell OC and Ywa Hana another of @oneirataxia-girl spawns.

Warnings: Heavy used of the Scottish accent, discrimination against another house.

The scream of the alarm ringed in Juniper's ears. She set it up nice and early so she could get ready on time, including her mum. Her mum promised that this time she would make it. The smell of dough flooded the entire house which was unusual, as normally it was Juniper in the kitchen. To her pleasant surprise, she found her mum busy making pancakes.

"Your up early, ma," Juniper quipped.

"Well, I thought since this is yer first day at Hogwarts I would make you something this time."Julia smiled without reaching her eyes, it had the same glaze over when she realised Jacob disappeared, "And I have to learn to stop depending on you so much Juno."

Juniper doesn't say anything, decided it was best to not comment. Julia planted a kiss on Juniper's forehead as she gave her her breakfast. Her mum took small bites of her pancake but left the plate unfinished. It was more than usual, however, Juniper could sense that her mum was going through a lot today. A bittersweetness that was going to stalk them all day. After their breakfast, they finished packing the final things and brought all the luggage to the living room.

"Let's take a picture together. For the photograph album." Julia took her wand and levitated their old camera, "Smile."

The smile pained her, probably pained her mum even more. The uneasiness worsened in her stomach. It felt wrong not having her brother, heck, even her father too. He only sent one letter to say that he has high expectations of her and to not get into trouble. Juniper dressed up in her casual wear and helped her mum to grab all her luggage. They travelled to Kings Cross Station, something that Juniper never understood why all the Scottish wizards and witches have to travel down to London when they could just take a train in Scotland to Hogsmeade. They found a cart to carry all of Juniper's things. Mewles flapped about, squawking as she was startled by the rattles of the wheels. Juniper hushed Mewles as they make their way to platforms 9 and 10.

"Now, we just need to go through there, remember" Julia held onto the cart, "Together?"

"Together."

They pushed the cart into the brick pillar. Juniper closed her eyes tight while knowing that they would walk through but somewhere deep in her mind, terrified that for some awful reason they do crash. Slowly, she lifted one eye. Platform 9 3/4, a familiar sight. The last time she was here was when they watched Jacob be sent off to Hogwarts for the last time. Now it was her turn, only without Jacob and without her dad. She felt the stares from everyone. Naturally, they would stand out. Pity, disgust, ignorance, even anger show in their eyes. Julia clung to Juniper feeling the same.

They manoeuvred through the crowd, most avoided them as if they jad some sort of virus and left her luggage to be collected to put with the other luggage and took Mewles with her on board the train. She looked in and out of different compartments only to be quickly rejected but soon enough finds one. There she saw the shiny, black hair that she has been missing for a month now.

"Rowan?"

"Juniper!?" Rowan shoot up and squeezed her tightly, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Rowan," After what seemed like an eternity passed, they finally let go. Rowan pulled Juniper to the window, "Juniper meet my parents."

Rowan introduced Juniper to her parents. She had her mother's face except for the eyes, they belonged to her father. Her older brother who just graduated the year before also showed up. He is helping out with the family farm while recently working at the ministry. Her parents seemed happy for their daughter to have found a friend. Juniper was secretly thankful that they didn't bring up Jacob and treated her normally and did not look at her pitifully. Not long after, Julia caught Juniper and ran over to the window.

"There you are," she huffed, out of breath.

"This is ma mum, Rowan." Juniper introduced her mum not only to Rowan but to her family too. The two mothers hit it off. Juniper hoped that they maybe could be friends too. Goodness, Julia needed someone that can keep her occupied and give her some company. The toll of the bell alerted everyone that it was time for the train to leave and said their last goodbyes until the next time they met. Rowan and Juniper stuck their heads and waved goodbye and off North to Hogwarts. The girls sat down once their parents were out of sight.

"I'm so happy we found each other so quickly," Rowan remarked. Juniper couldn't help but nod in agreement, "Aye, I have tae confess. I couldnae wait to see you again."

Rowan sighed out a relief, "I'm glad I wasn't the only one who felt that way."

A couple of people passed them by, a few saw Juniper's hair and immediately scurried away to find another compartment. Rowan constantly looked at Juniper with concern, unsure if she was offended. The blue-haired remained indifferent towards the judgement. Too be honest, she would rather have people whisper and ignore her than harass her. Her main goal is to find Jacob and to be left alone. Well, she added the goal of making some friends. Juniper wasn't expecting much but a few would be nice. At least she has Rowan on her side. They snacked on their confectionary bought from the trolley witch, comparing and swapping their frog cards.

"I have two Dumbledores, do you want one?" Juniper asked, Rowan's eye widen, "Oh that would be great Juniper, thank you! Dumbledore cards are really rare." She took the card and added it to her collection.

"Dumbledore was in Gryffindor, wasn' he?" She wondered out loud.

"Yeah, he was," Rowan affirmed, she paused, "Do you wonder what house you'll end in?"

Juniper shrugged, "I haven' got a scooby. Maybe Hufflepuff? Most of my family were in Hufflepuff." She never really thought about houses, she knew that her mother's side usually ended up in Hufflepuff. She changed the subject back at Rowan, "What about you?"

“Well, I wouldn’t mind Ravenclaw because that’s were most intellectuals are,” Rowan answered, but added, “But I wouldn’t mind Hufflepuff, they sound very nice too.”

“Well, whatever house we end in, I hope we’re in the same house.” Juniper remarked. She really didn’t want to be alone with other strangers in a dorm. Having Rowan would be so great for her.

The train chugged on as the sun starts to set and the lights inside brightened to accommodate for the changing lights. Everyone was changed into their school uniform, the first years' black ties ready to be determined for their new colours for the next seven years. The motions of the steam engine slow to halt at a wizarding village.

"All firs' years! This way 'ere," The deep voice boomed across the platform. All the first years head turned to the giant figure illumenated by the glow his lamp. Juniper noted her surroundings, the many students that followed along the path until they reached to a lake. Boats with little lanterns hanging were prepared. "Don' push. Only four people to a boa'" The giant instructed the students.

Rowan and Juniper made sure to stick together, unseperable. A boy with tidy blonde hair and perminant worried look to his face joined them in their boat. He was skittish, constantly looking around while fiddling with his fingers while a more calmer red headed boy climbed in with them. They gave a quick little greeting but their attention was more focused on towards the enormous catsle that was awaiting them up on the hill. The castle looked very similar to a muggle castle ruins nearby Juniper mused. The boats moved on their own and took them steadily across the lake and once everyone has left the boats. The giant took them inside through these grand wooden doors. It was like being in a fairytale or medival era history book. Many students gasped audibly in awe, they were certainly feeling the same way too. A woman with a stern look and round spectacles waited for them. Her presence alone quieten down the first years students.

"I am Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and one of your teachers during your time at Hogwarts. Now follow along to the great hall." She opens another set of grand, dark brown, wooden doors. The great hall was certainly great, grand even. There was four sets of tables for each house and looking up the ceiling seemed to merge with the night sky lighten by stars and floating candles. Porfessor McGonagall lead them down the middle and to the front of the teacher's table. In the middle of the raised platform stood a stool and an old, dusty matted hat on top.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. Before the Welcoming Feast, we must sort all the first year student into their proper houses." Professor McGonagall's posture was straight and almost feline if Juniper had to describe. "The Sorting Ceremony is very important. While you are, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts." Juniper hopes those words will be true.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, the brave and chivelrous," Chivelrous my- Juniper cut her own thoughts quickly. That's the only house Juniper vowed to never be in, no matter what it takes. Her brother told one too many horror stories how a group of older Gryffindor boys bullied Jacob for befriending someone, "Hufflepuff, the kind and diligent. Ravenclaw, the witty and wise. And Slytherin, the cunning and ambitious. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards."

Professor McGonagoll paused, "I hope you all will be fine additions to their ranks. When your name gets called, please sit up here and the hat will be placed on your head. First up Ali, Badeea."

The girl with the starry blue head scarf behind Juniper pushed through and sat on the wooden stool. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on top of her head.

After a couple seconds passed, the hat yelled,"RAVENCLAW!"

The ravenclaw table cheered for their first new addition. Badeea's tie and robes correlated with the blue colours of Ravenclaw and joined the table.

"Arcane-Zheng, Alvina." Professor McGonagall read out the next one. An Arcane, in her year. Everybody knew about the Arcanes, powerful and rich from their enterprise Vistas industries. Funny thing is, is her beloved second once removed cousin worked with one of the bosses of the business to help bring down you-know-who. Though Juniper does know a fair bit about the Arcanes but she has never heard of Alvina but to be fair, all she knows is their reputation and not much about the family.

The short girl wore her sleek black hair in a ponytail walked up to the stool. The sorting hat was placed on her head. It took considerably longer than Badeea but the hat came to a final conclusion.

"RAVENCLAW!" Another Ravenclaw. There was a Diego Caplan out into Hufflepuff, the skittish boy from earlier was a Benjamin Copper who was sorted into Gryffindor ironically. A girl with gorgeous red hair, Carewyn Cromwell was put into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall goes through the list. Juniper's stomach churned as her name gets closer and closer to being called. She prayed that the teachers listened to her request of being referred as just Moss not Hasni-Moss.

"Haywood, Penelope." Juniper breathed a sigh of relief as the blonde girl excitedly stepped on the platform.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat cried instantly.

The students gathered in at the front shrunk in size as more and more names are called out. There was almost half left, "Khanna, Rowan."

"Its my turn now. I hope I see you soon," She whispered, she brushed her fingers against Juniper's. Rowan's turn to be sorted, Juniper bets she would make Ravenclaw, it suited Rowan the best.

"RAVENCLAW!" Juniper clapped along the rest of the Ravenclaw students. She almost yelled out how happy she was for Rowan. She glanced around as Professor McGonagall listed through Ks and Ls. The red haired boy from earlier standing next to her was unusually calm. At closer inspection, she noticed how his hair wasn't just red but a fiery red. He stood out almost as much she did with their hair. She focused back on the sorting ceremony, rightly so, "...and now for..."

She glanced at her list, "Moss, Juniper."

Finally her turn, the students whispered amongst themselves. Juniper face flushed bright red. She thought she was over this. The whispers. The stares. The assumptions and falsehoods spread by rumours. But this is her life now and it would always follow her. She stepped up the platform and took her place at the stool. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the dust residue that fell as the was placed on her hair.

"Hmm...a Moss, very interesting," A voice tickled in her ear, "It's a tricky things when families have long lines in the same house. Now, now...where to you place you. A very determined little thing you are and an incredible loyalty you possess...ah...like your brother, you hold a certain darkness deep in your hearth too. I wonder how to handle that darkness...hmm..."

Could you hurry up please, I really couldnae care less what hoose I'm in. Juniper thought to the hat. That was a lie, she really didn't want Gryffindor but if she had to choose it would Ravenclaw as both her friend Rowan and her brother were in.

"Impaitent too. I believe Hufflepuff would not be suited for you," The hat amused, chuckled even, "And thus the chain of Hufflepuffs is broken for the Moss family…but what about Gryffindor. You certainly are daring and bold, facing your obstacle head on.

Please no! Any hoose but Gryffindor. Juniper tensed up, she started to crack her finger one by one. "I see…what a shame however I cannot put you in a house which you seem to detest which leaves us to Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Both worthy houses but which is worthier? You certainly have intelligence but also individuality, you know who you are and what you want, but with Slytherin, that could untap a flood of potential waiting to be explored and an ambition to be achieved in you."

Great, could you just put me in whatever hoose that would help me the best to find Jacob, Juniper thought increasingly more frustrated by the hat's hold up. The hat mused, "Hmm…You care deeply for your brother, alright then. I know now, best put you in;"

Juniper edged against the sit, for the annoucement, "RAVENCLAW!" The hat roared.

The Ravenclaw table cheered with mixed emotions. Some happy others a little disgruntled but Juniper couldn't focus on that. She jolted towards Rowan and the two shared a hug.

"I'm so glad we're in the same house." Said Rowan as the sat down, "Aye, me too."

Juniper sat between Rowan and a boy with tight curly short afro and deep brown complexion. Professor McGonagall moved onto the next person.

"Murk, Ismelda." A girl with dark hair covering her face merged from the group with was now down over half it's number. The girl was sorted into Slytherin. Juniper started to lose focus on the sorting ceremony, clapping anytime a new Ravenclaws entered their midsts.

The ceremony was almost over when two boys and a girl where left, the red headed boy was still there. Juniper felt bad for him having to stand there for so long. The other was a skinnier boy with his brown hair slicked back and the girl was really short compared to the rest.

"Weasley, Charles." Announced Professor McGonagall. Juniper noticed the boy that she had been staring the entire time finally moved to be sorted to his house. Weasley was a familiar name to Juniper, she heard about them before. Apparantly there was this joke in the Scottish wizarding community that the Weasley family were the English Moss; distinctive hair, poor and blood traitors. The hat took a minute, maybe it was debating like it did with Juniper.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat annouced. Charles seemed overjoyed by the choice and ran up towards a taller boy with the same fiery red hair. That must be his older brother, how nice. It pained Juniper a little and made her think of Jacob, he would be twenty-one now and was past his Hogwarts years but still, if he was around Juniper could write letters to him and have the brotherly advise she needed. Professor McGonagoll called out the next name which tore Juniper away from her thoughts, "Winger, Talbott."

The last boy, cool and collected approached the hat with no hesitations. The hat was placed for a couple seconds before making the last decision of the year, "RAVENCLAW!"

He joined the table across from the Arcane girl. Finally, the last girl was announced, “Ywa, Hana!”

The hat deliberated but finally concluded with Hufflepuff. With the final sorting, closed the sorting ceremony to an end.

Everyone settled down very quickly for the headmaster's speech. The teacher was decked out in a purple robe, lined with golden threads and embroidery fashioned on top of his head was a matching golden hat. His eyes twinkled of something curious behind his half-moon rimmed glasses to all that laid eyes on him.

"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." He began from the rusty golden podium shaped like an owl, "The past few years have seen a great weight lifted from our world. The boy who lived, Harry Potter, is safe. Years from now, young Harry will be old enough to attend Hogwarts...But for now, it's your turn!"

Deep down, Juniper had the feeling that he was talking about her. Not that she wanted to be pretentious or anything but something in her gut was telling her, it has to do with Jacob. That she will find some answers about him, just something. Dumbledore resumed with his speech, "Remember, while you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House Points, while any rule-breaking will lose House Points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded with the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house. Please enjoy the feast."

The room bursted into chatter again as the food popped upon the once empty platters. She never had such good food before, she wanted to complement the chefs who made the food, where ever they are. Juniper was stuffed beyond belief but the food never seemed to disappear. Rowan was the same, the girls laughed and no dared to approach or ask Juniper anything about Jacob so it seems that this was a good day, for now.

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

#juniper’s story #writing #hogwarts mystery #Hphm oc #juniper moss #rowan khanna #julia moss #sorting hat #i know juniper has some prejudices against gryffindor #she will grow and learn #but that will come later #Colours in the pic are based of the glass window

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llogllady99 · 3 years

Text

Au revoir

CHARACTERS | Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.”

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

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izzabeean · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5 : Impulse

SUMMARY

You've learned something you wish you didn't about Ushijima and now you wish you could forget.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 2,836

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : What can I say, Y/N has a bit of a sweet tooth! I mean if I spent a day in the city you bet I would be eating a lot of food. Or is that just me? Anyway, I am happy with how this turned out! The next chapter is going to be so fun!

Will try to post every Thursday evening PST, if not latest by Friday.

Hope you're enjoying the series so far!

masterlist

<< prev | ch . 5 | next >>

Today sucks.

After last night, you didn’t think it could get any worse, but you were so wrong. The sliver of hope that today was going to be a bit better quickly vanished in a matter of seconds leaving your heart even more shattered than you thought was possible.

So why?

Why is it that you saw the person you’d love the most with a girl you’d never seen before? As much as you wish it weren’t so, the evidence is right in front of you no matter how many times you try to push the image away.

Staring down at your soft serve ice cream, nearly melted, you let out a big sigh trying to repress the tears wanting to form. You wish your favorite flavor of frozen dessert could solve all your problems, alas, the rich creamy flavors only remind you of a date you had with Ushijima…

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” you spout, arms linked with Ushijima marching your way to your favorite ice cream shop. It was this particular spot that made you realize Ushijima is more than what you’ve ever wanted in your life. You’d been dating for six months now, a new record in your love life, also a big surprise you haven’t tired him out with your nonsense.

Instead of arguing whether a cold dessert was an appropriate snack in the winter, he just let out a deep sigh in reply knowing you’re not going to be convinced otherwise.

“Don’t give me that,” you holler, covering your face in your hands, refusing to look at Ushijima.

Gently, he grabs your hands pulling them away from your face giving you a little kiss on the cheek in apology for his teasing.

“Y/N.”

Oikawa’s voice pulls you out of your bitter memory back to sitting across from him at a cafe. Your heart drops, realizing that there will not be any more moments like that with Ushijima. Did everything always remind you of him this much?

“You’re ice cream,” Oikawa says, eyes locked on to the dessert dripping on your hand.

Quickly you get up from the table grabbing some napkins to wipe up the mess you’ve made which resonates with you very well at this point. Not only are you emotionally a mess, apparently now you can’t even physically get a hold of yourself. Emotional pain is just temporary, yes, yet there’s this overwhelming feeling that makes you think your entire world is closing in on you.

In the process of cleaning up the sticky residue, you let out a growl noticing it’s dripped onto your palish pants producing a humiliating colored stain. You start pressing on the fabric in hopes your mishap would magically disappear… It doesn’t.

Oikawa peers down at your pants attempting to conceal his chuckle with a titter.

“It’s not funny,” you rasp.

But Oikawa can’t stop himself from bursting into a loud guffaw resulting in a free-flowing of tears.

Completely exasperated by the chaos, you throw out what’s left of your liquefied treat and sit back at the table covering your face with your hands. You didn’t feel in a rush to embarrass yourself more by strutting around the city with a large smudge of ice cream on your pants.

Once Oikawa gains his composure, he takes his jacket off and passes it to you across the table.

“You can hold this to cover it,” he offers.

The gesture feels loaded, like the true intent is much more devious than that, especially since he seemed to find it so amusing. There’s no way Oikawa could perform such gracious acts of kindness.

“Take it,” he says.

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” You reply, shoving the coat away with your hands.

Oikawa shrugs, “I’ll be fine.”

Giving in to his persistency, you take the jacket. “Thank you,” you breathe.

You watch Oikawa straighten out his shirt and fix his hair as a couple of girls walk by giggling, smiling at him, one even gives a little wave. It puzzles you how Oikawa can be such a dreamboat, from your years of friendship, his reputation borderlines annoying and childish, but the little gestures he’s made today have really made you rethink; this was a side to Oikawa you’ve never seen before.

On your way back to the train station, you look out toward the horizon and see the sun setting; pinks and oranges fill the sky, and the sight before you is quite romantic. The scene itself ended up turning out to be soothing despite the alarming encounter from earlier.

Now your new reality is finally setting in where there’s no Ushijima.

“I don’t want to go home,” you utter.

Oikawa studies you with your head hanging low. The glow of the sun coats you in its gleaming rays, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things but he noticed the light capture a shimmer of a single tear tracking down your cheek. Then it finally resonates with him: you're not okay.

“Wish I could get out of these pants though,” you laugh. Then just like that, you revert to a smile.

“Let’s take you out,” Oikawa says.

“Out? Like to a club?” You didn’t fully expect any sort of resolution from Oikawa, your comment was meant to be rhetorical.

“Yeah! You, me, and Iwa! We never go together and it will be good for you to go out to have some fun!”

“I don’t know about that,” you sigh.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, the look on his face is full of excitement basically begging you to say yes. He must know you’re feeling vulnerable because it doesn’t take a moment more of hesitation to.

------

When Oikawa said he was going to take you out, he really meant it. The nightclub is lavish as loud music pulses in your chest while crowds of people huddle around the bar and scatter across the dance floor.

Oikawa could be considered an avid clubber, how could he not be when he is so popular with girls, and had always tried to convince you to join him. You never really have, but you’ve also never really had your heartbroken to this degree.

“It’s about to get even more crowded,” Oikawa yells into your ear.

10:13 pm on a Saturday evening and it’s going to get busier? Oh god.

Crowds aren’t your thing. Clubs aren’t your thing. Drinking isn’t really your thing. What are you even doing here?

“Shots?” Oikawa suggests pointing to the bar.

Your stomach churns at the thought. Diving into the night with shots seems excessive; they always leave a bitter taste in your mouth and the strong smell makes you want to gag. You wanted a drink to ease you into the evening...

“6 shots of Jäger,” Oikawa orders.

Maybe not so much tonight.

The bartender retrieves the alcohol and brings back six shot glasses, each filled to the rim of dark liquor. Holding the shot glass up to your face, the potent smell makes your nose scrunch. With a cheers, you throw back the alcohol and the sensation burns your throat; it’s awful. Knowing there’s a second shot waiting, you don't delay the inevitable.

“Someone’s eager,” Oikawa purrs watching you down the second shot.

The corners of your mouth turn down as the hairs on your back stand up. You let out an ick and turn to Oikawa and Iwaizumi who are both in awe of your tenacity. Truthfully, you were shocked too. Then all the tension in your body seems to disperse, from the day, from entering the nightclub. You finally feel relaxed.

“Am I going to be waiting for you all night? Or what?” You tease eyeing their untouched liquor.

Both men look at each other and take the shot in one gulp. Calling over the bartender you order another round, this time they’re a lot easier to take.

“You’re really not playing around,” Iwaizumi teases, impressed that you’re able to down three shots in a matter of minutes upon entering the venue.

Shifting your gaze to Iwaizumi, he looks so hot in his black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. A warm feeling fills your chest, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol hazing your perception or you were genuinely starting to crush on him.

Damn it, you think to yourself while your eyes continue to linger on him.

Considering your current situation, the smart thing to do here would be to do nothing. On the other hand, you couldn’t help that your heart fluttered in Iwaizumi’s presence. Surely, he didn’t realize the meaning behind his words but it brought you lower into the sort of absolution that you were definitely forming a rebound crush on him. But you couldn’t let yourself. Of course, if you did, you were bound to hurt Iwaizumi and your friendship with Oikawa. You had to stop yourself before it was too late.

Oikawa’s eyes fall onto you, noticing your ogling. You seem to illuminate with this glow he hasn’t seen all day and for a split second, he is fueled with irritation at the sight. But catches his outward anger and pushes it down, gaining composure.

------

Keeping up with Oikawa for most of the night was a bad idea. Certainly, it didn’t occur to you until you stumble into the bathroom all by yourself, realizing you were most definitely unable to stand straight without help.

Check yourself out in the mirror, you pull out your phone to take a raunchy selfie. You smirk at yourself checking the photo before posting it to your social media story.

That will show him, you think, hopeful Ushijima will see the image you’ve posted. He’s not the only one who can have fun.

Before even pressing “post” you get a text from Oikawa asking where you are. You giggle as you type come find me and press send with the intention of finding him first.

As you leave the bathroom, you begin to scan the crowd for Oikawa or Iwaizumi trying to recollect where you last saw them. The crowds of people in the vicinity make it practically impossible and the further you walk into the nightclub, the louder the music gets, the brighter the lights are, the warmer your body feels.

All you wanted to do was get out.

Stepping outside, there’s this instant relief from the crisp evening air although it doesn’t last long, and soon a violent shiver courses through you. Turning around to go back inside the bouncer stops you then points to what seems like an endless line of people.

“B-but, I-I just need to get my jacket,” you stammer.

“Sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to wait in line,” he booms.

Your outward calmness cracks, too anxious to even think up an excuse. You needed to find Oikawa or Iwaizumi and you need to find them now!

You turn your attention back to your phone as you begin to type out a text to come meet you outside the club.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” a raspy voice calls out.

You look up and see a rough-looking guy in line making intense eye contact with you. Normally you don’t judge, but your drunk bordering wasted self notes this man was very sketchy and it’s best to avoid him. So you turn your back to him and call Oikawa instead.

“Hey don’t ignore me,” he yells.

You start walking in the opposite direction from the line as far away from the stranger as possible. You’re a bit worried he can still see you and slip into an alley beside the nightclub, the phone still ringing on the other end.

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!!” You mutter into the receiver. Oikawa doesn’t, so you try again.

“I don’t like being ignored, sweet cheeks.” The same raspy voice makes you jump as you turn around to see the scraggly man backlit by fluorescent streetlights, only making his appearance more menacing.

The call goes to Oikawa’s voicemail again.

“Guess your friend ditched ya,” he continued walking closer to you. The statement sobers you up as his aura escalates to a more threatening demeanor.

“They said they’ll just be out,” you squeal.

“Yeah?” The stranger keeps shortening the distance every step. “Why don’t you come with me?”

He’s so close now that you can smell his disgusting breath and you start to panic. “I-I can’t, I’m waiting for someone, th-thank you though.”

Why the fuck did you say thank you? Your brain screams at you.

“Oh come on sweet cheeks,” he coaxes, reaching out to clasp on to your wrist. “I’ll show you a good time.”

Your body freezes at his touch. It stings as a sharp pain from his grip makes you want to scream or cry, but the shock was melting your ability to. You felt so useless and timid in times of distress. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t escape searing clutches of--

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice thunders.

The stranger turns to see the culprit and you slowly glance to see Iwaizumi with an intimidating aura protruding from him.

“Just having a nice talk,” the stranger purrs, tightening his grip more and you let out a little yelp.

“Is that what this is? She looks pretty scared to me,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“This’ none of your business kid,” the stranger rages.

“Actually it is,” he demands stepping closer. “Let go of her.”

A vein on Iwaizumi’s neck pops out as his hands start to ball into fists. Now the stranger is intensely regretting his choice and you can sense it from the fact he’s visibly shaking. You are nearly on the verge of tears from the pain in your wrist and wonder if he was going to break it.

“Let go,” Iwaizumi orders again.

And this time he does, the man, nothing but a weak buffoon, frees your wrist and walks off in a trudge.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi walks over to you to take a look at your wrist.

You nod, letting out a deep exhale trying to hide how petrified you were while holding your wrist.

“Does it hurt,” he asks, gently applying pressure to it. “Let me take a look.”

Initially, you flinch at his touch, afraid the searing pain will return, instead, his fingertips lightly trace your wrist while analyzing it thoroughly.

“Let me take you to a hospital to be sure.”

“No, no,” you breathe, locking eyes with him. “I’m fine, just a little sore.

Iwaizumi’s face flickers with a bit of uncertainty but decides not to push it and lets go of your wrist to take out a cigarette.

“Fuck,” you hiss. You felt like an idiot for going off on your own, for drinking this much, for going out at all. “I’m sorry.”

Deeply inhaling the smoke, he turns to you, “For what?”

“For running off by myself, and you totally just saving my ass. It’s just… pathetic,” you exclaim, reverting eye contact with him-- you’re slightly embarrassed and his silence is only telling, considering you barely know each other. “I swear to god, I’m not normally like this.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he states, shrugging his shoulders. “Oikawa says you’re dealing with shit.”

Your reaction isn’t short of an embarrassment. His words hurt you as the scenario of Oikawa telling Iwaizumi about your break-up fills your mind. You scoff. “I’m fine!”

“You’re a horrible liar.” Iwaizumi didn’t have a problem calling you out as you stared at him after a few moments of silence.

“So what am I supposed to tell him?” you mutter, this surge of anger sweeps over you, you feel this swell of rage boiling inside. “That it’s ok to see my ex, not even a day broken-up with a new girl? It’s fucking bullshit!”

He turns to look at you and blinks at your reaction. The sudden unexpected word vomit makes you pause.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” you whisper. “It’s just weird, you know, all of it. I didn’t expect to be blindsided like that. It’s just…” You look over to Iwaizumi listening intently to you and feel your face grow hot. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! You never asked.”

It’s awkward and quiet, you’re pretty sure Iwaizumi can feel it too. You’re puzzled with what to say and feel pressured to express a less depressing answer. You didn’t want to drop the mood of the evening. In those moments, it became apparent you needed to sober up.

“Can I have one?” you ask.

He looks at you with wide eyes, “You smoke?”

You take out your lighter that you have stowed away in your purse flaunting it as evidence of your new bad habit. Iwaizumi tosses you the pack of smokes.

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” You’re trying to sound like you’re joking but a hint of worry seeps through and you’re left waiting for a serious response from him.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime

71 notes · View notes

ruzek-halstead · 3 years

Text

keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)

julie doesn't expect one of the worst days of her life to lead to the best.

an alternate universe where julie is a talented tattoo artist, battling her demons and luke occasionally helps out at a flower shop because recording a demo isn't cheap. their meeting isn't the most glamorous, but it's one for the books.

masterlist || ao3

It’s only when she turns her head to the side and her curls follow, that he notices the black outline of a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. It’s unbelievably simple and void of any colour, but Luke finds it suits her. Her arm reaches out as she playfully hits the shoulder of someone she’s with and Luke catches more of the ink on her skin. He spots the dahlia first, and her reaction at the flower shop when he thought they didn’t have any makes a lot more sense; it must have a deep meaning to her.

The urge he feels to know everything and anything about her overwhelms him.

The moment Julie's alarm clock starts ringing that rainy Wednesday morning, she knows it can only go further downhill from there.

She has been dreading this day for the entire month, and now that it's finally here, she isn't sure how to feel. She knows how she feels; her insides are turning themselves inside out and the pinch at the front of her forehead signals the start of a headache that will most likely be there for the remainder of the day.

It's only seven-thirty in the morning and her phone is already flooding with messages. They're mostly from her dad, reminding her what today is. It isn't as if she needs a reminder; this day will stick with her for as long as she walks this earth. Other messages are from her Tía Victoria, a bit more aggressive, trying to ensure Julie's presence later tonight.

Julie understands it's all in good faith; she knows that. It doesn't help lessen the pain though.

She's has never found it anything less than difficult to visit her mother's grave. The image of Rose being lowered in her coffin will forever stay burned in Julie's mind, and that was all she could picture whenever she went back. However, the standing tradition was that they all would visit her mother's grave on the anniversary of her death.

Julie visited on the first anniversary. She was only able to stay the entirety of four minutes before she ran to the nearest trashcan to empty out her insides.

She stopped by the second year but couldn't find the strength to leave the car.

By the third year, the mere thought of visiting the cemetery was enough to send Julie into a whirlwind of panic attacks; they were so debilitating that she couldn't even leave her apartment.

At the fourth anniversary, Julie simply opted to not go. Her father was disappointed, her Tía was angry (even though she tried to hide it) and her brother said nothing at all.

Today marks the fifth anniversary of Rose's death, and once again, she's expected to show up. Even if the pain is just as fresh as the day it happened, the expectation is that she'll show up anyway with flowers and say something nice and meaningful.

Julie doesn't have anything nice or meaningful to say because she's still so angry that something like this even happened in the first place. She doesn't see why she has to hide her anger, why she has to hide it for the sake of her family. It should be okay that she's still grieving; it isn't something you just get over.

Julie clears the messages from her phone without responding. She has work to get to, and she can't be anymore distracted than she already is. She jumps in for a quick shower, not bothering to style her hair since it was a dreary, rainy day anyway. She chooses a pair of black ripped jeans, a matching black cropped band t-shirt and her red and black plaid shirt to complete the outfit. Grabbing an apple for the road, she picks up her army green jacket, an umbrella and quickly weaves through the crowds of people on the street until she reaches her destination.

The 'OPEN' sign is still turned off, but she spots lights flickering in the back. Balancing her umbrella and the apple she shoved in her mouth due to lack of hands, she uses her key to let herself in.

Willie is already in the back, setting up his station for a full day of appointments. Somehow people were always willing to get pricked with a needle, no matter how much it hurt.

Their other co-workers, Flynn and Carrie haven't arrived yet.

Julie is grateful for that. After working with these people for so many years, they know a lot about her and most of them were even there when her mother's health severely started deteriorating out of nowhere.

They know exactly what today is.

She doesn't want to be coddled in the way she knows they'll want to.

Luckily, she doesn't have to worry about that with Willie. He somehow just understands exactly what everyone needs, no words necessary.

"Morning Jules," he murmurs, motioning behind him to the break room. "I set the coffee a bit ago. Can you check on that?"

Julie, ever grateful for the distraction, drops her things at her station and rushes into the break room. Coffee is a must every morning, and it's best to always have a fresh pot. You never know when you'll need a fix. After so many years of working together, they've all memorized each other's coffee orders and so, Julie takes it upon herself to prepare everyone's coffee.

It's mostly for a distraction. But every time she thinks of things as distractions, it only reminds her of what she's trying to distract herself from. It's a lose-lose situation.

"Good morning Julie!"

Julie turns to glance over her shoulder at where Carrie is walking in, hooking her jacket on the coat rack and shaking out the raindrops from her loose waves. She immediately dives for her coffee, taking a deep gulp with a sigh of pleasure.

Her blue eyes meet Julie's surprised brown ones. Carrie merely sends her a small smile and doesn't say anything else. Julie sends one back.

"Is Nick coming in today?" Julie asks, turning back to the four coffees.

Nick is their apprentice, currently working with Carrie. He doesn't come in everyday and Julie doesn't want to waste a perfectly good coffee if he isn't coming in.

"No, not today. He gets days off. Anyone know what those are?"

Julie lets out a snort. She spots the pleased smile on Carrie's lips from the corner of her eye. She understands her co-workers are trying to make this day as pain-free as possible and she really appreciates it.

"Jules, your phone's going off again!" Willie yells from the other room. Julie frowns, knowing exactly who it is and what it's for. She glances at her watch, noting it's time to open. She grabs her coffee along with Willie's and drops it off along the way.

Julie once again presses decline, silences it, and shoves it into one of her drawers. She ignores the somewhat knowing look from Willie; she knows he won't say anything.

She can feel it in the aggressive manner of her movements; she's just so frustrated. She's frustrated with her emotions and what she's feeling. A part of her thinks she should be over it by now, so she wouldn't have to suffer through this every year. But she knows that's ridiculous; this kind of pain doesn't just disappear overnight. She's also frustrated with her family. They don't seem to care about what she's feeling and instead solely on what they want her to do.

But then, she's also frustrated with herself.

Why is it so difficult for her to visit her mother? Maybe it would be therapeutic and bring Julie some closure. She knows this, but her body rejects the idea at every attempt.

It's frustrating all around and Julie can feel herself growing sour as the day goes on.

Julie never pictured herself going into tattooing. To be perfectly honest, blood used to freak the hell out of her and in large quantities, it still does. But she always had an interest in drawing. It started with little doodles on the corners of her notebooks, then when she was gifted her first proper drawing pad, she filled it up within days. It was the one thing that brought her joy, so she decided to make something out of it.

Tattooing was still never on her radar. It wasn't until Julie met up with some of her cousins at a family get together that the idea was proposed. After that, Julie furthered her education on drawing and applied for an apprenticeship with an experienced tattoo artist. She wanted to see if it was the right profession for her, and she was amazed by how much she loved it.

Her mentor thought she was adorable at first. She was so tiny, and so bare of any tattoos, but when she started showcasing her talent, both knew this was the right place for Julie. She stayed there for a few months and eventually started venturing elsewhere. That's when she discovered Willie and his tattoo parlour Powerhouse.

He's absolutely the chillest boss Julie has ever encountered. He cares that you do your job and you do it properly. She also met some pretty amazing coworkers along the way, so it was quite possibly one of the best decisions she ever made.

Sitting in the break room during a gap in appointments, Julie idly stares at the ink littering her forearms. She never saw the appeal to ink her skin before her mom passed away. After that, she was desperate to keep her memory alive, and as close to her as possible.

The black outline of a dahlia on her wrist reminds Julie of her mother's favourite flower; she always made sure to have them in the house, even if they were out of season. There was a flower shop nearby that always managed to get them in, and coincidentally, it ended up being the shop across the street from where she worked now. Julie is familiar with the elderly lady who owned the shop, Beverly; she's the absolute sweetest, and continued to get dahlias even after Rose had passed away.

Julie likes to keep some in her apartment as well, so she continues stopping by.

She kept adding designs to her skin as time went on.

Her style is mostly black ink, thin lines. She understands most people get tattoos without a specific meaning behind it, as getting a tattoo is already meaningful enough. But Julie has always been dead set on having all her tattoos mean something to her.

She has her mother's signature on the underside of her other wrist. This one, Carlos and she got together. It's the only time Carlos ever let her come close to him with a needle, even though she has begged him multiple times.

Julie also has a black butterfly on the back of her shoulder. She loves butterflies and everything they represent; rebirth, change, hope, transformation, everything she wishes she could do.

She has a few more littering the skin on her arms, all personal designs, and all done by her ridiculously talented co-workers; Julie wouldn't trust anyone else.

Julie's day has dragged on, and she's still dodging calls from her family. It hurt, deep down in her chest that she's ignoring them, but it hurt so much more thinking about her mom and where she is.

When her phone rings again as she's cleaning up her station after the last client of the evening, Julie moves to decline the call. She stops short when she notices the screensaver is a dorky photo she took of Carlos many years ago; it's her brother calling, and he hasn't bothered to do so in quite a while.

Julie, with hesitation, decides to pick up the phone anyway. She hasn't talked to her brother in months, and she can't decline his call; it would hurt too much.

"Julie," he greets, seemingly surprised she even picked up; he knows what she's like on his particular day. It's like a breath of fresh air hearing his voice, and it makes Julie feel even worse for ignoring her father and Tía's calls earlier.

"Hey Carlos," Julie replies softly. "How are you?

It's a dumb question, but it was instinct more than anything else.

"I'm okay, considering," Carlos responds honestly, and Julie's heart nearly bursts from how much it hurts. To know her little brother is hurting and she has been avoiding him like the plague, it makes her feel like a terrible sister. And that wouldn't be far from the truth, considering how MIA she has been with her entire family. "Are you coming tonight?"

Julie inhales sharply. It's easier to just decline calls to let them know she isn't coming rather than actually having to tell them. "I'm sorry Carlos, I don't think I can make it tonight."

There's an ominous silence from the other end. They both know Julie's full of shit.

"Okay," he replies solemnly. "I just —" When Julie hears what she thinks is a quiet sob, her eyes immediately well up with tears. For a second, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room and she can't figure out how to breathe. "I would really like it if you came. I need you."

Carlos is so obviously in pain and Julie doesn't have it in her to deny it anymore. She's in pain too, but it isn't just about her.

"I'll be there," Julie tells him, voice breaking on the last word. "I'm just finishing work, but I'll meet you all there."

"Thanks Jules," he thanks her, but honestly, there's no need. "I love you."

Julie hastily wipes at the tears that have escaped. "I love you too. See you soon."

Julie immediately ends the phone call and ducks her head into her arms to silence the sobs wracking her body.

God, it hurt so much.

Everything hurt.

Julie only allows herself to fall apart for a single minute. After that, she composes herself and wipes away her tears. She had promised Beverly she would stop by today, as she always sent Julie some dahlias on the anniversary of her mother's death. She figures she may as well bring them to her mother's grave; her father would appreciate it.

Julie hastily grabs her jacket from the back and storms to the front door. Her co-workers are still in, so she mumbles a quick goodbye but doesn't stay long enough to receive any questions. In her rush, she forgets to grab her umbrella and of course, it's still raining out.

She growls in frustration under her breath. She isn't usually an angry person, but today she's completely out of it.

The flower shop is only across the street, so she quickly makes a run for it and ducks into the shop.

Julie is expecting to see Beverly behind the counter, so she's unpleasantly surprised to see a floppy-haired, sleeveless man sitting behind it instead. She was truly hoping to see Beverly; she always made Julie feel better, especially on days like this.

So, she can't exactly explain the overwhelming feeling of rage that overtakes her.

Luke is sitting behind the counter on a stool, pencil between his lips, brows furrowed together as he reviews his latest lyrics. His head is bopping up and down as he murmurs the words from the notebook splayed on his lap.

He's been in a bit of a rut lately and everything he seems to write makes him want to bang his head against the wall.

The flower shop is quiet and slow, and it's the perfect place for Luke to write out his latest song ideas. They are still three songs short for the demo album they're currently recording and Luke is on a bit of a time crunch. It's a miracle they found a studio willing to let them record their demo album at all, but that's the price of knowing people (or Reggie knowing people; he meets a lot of random people).

Unfortunately, recording a demo doesn't pay much, so Luke helps out in the flower shop occasionally. Beverly is a family friend of his mom's and she's more than happy to have Luke help out so she can spend some more time with her grandkids.

When he hears the bell of the door go off, signalling there's a new customer, he glances up, pencil dropping into his lap. Her back is to him so he can only spot her unruly curls and army green jacket littered with raindrops.

He watches her silently; it isn't like he's trying to be creepy or anything, but usually he can tell by their expressions if they need his help or not. When she turns in his direction to glance at the row of flowers, he offers a friendly smile.

Luke is momentarily distracted by her effortless beauty, but his brows furrow at the obvious distress written on her features. Her eyes are slightly rimmed red, and he doesn't want to make any assumptions, but coupled with her rosy nose, it seems as if she has been crying. There's a pinch in her brow, and Luke can't tell if she's angry or just severely upset.

Neither are his specialty, and truth be told, he figures he'll only make things worse if he tries to talk to her. But she looks so sad, and it is technically his job. How horribly could he mess this up?

With hesitation, he slips out from behind the counter and approaches her cautiously, bouncing on his heels.

"Hey!" Luke greets, his right hand automatically reaching towards the back of his head to scratch his scalp. He has been told it's his nervous tick, though he can't really help it at this point. His voice sounds so loud in the quiet shop; only the sounds of buzzing from the coolers can be heard. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Julie is still gazing over the flowers, growing irritated that there are no dahlias in sight. She spares a single look at his curious expression. His green eyes are searching her face, and she can only imagine how terrible she looks right now. His gaze is oddly intense and Julie breaks away like she's been burned.

Shaking her head to break out of her reverie, she looks back at the flowers. "I'm looking for dahlias."

"Oh!" Luke frowns, even more so when Julie doesn't make further eye contact. "Sorry, we don't have any in stock right now. Not the season."

Luke has dealt with crabby customers before, normally upset because they don't have what they're looking for. He's used to that, and he has a pretty upbeat demeanour that helps him whenever he has to talk down customers. And though Julie looks upset, he doesn't expect her to snap the way she does.

She turns to face him with such ferocity that the ends of her jacket flap against his thigh. There’s a wild gleam in her eye as it twitches. “What?” Though the single word is packed with animosity and venom, Luke spots the hint of desperation beneath. “That’s not possible. This place always has dahlias! They have to be here somewhere!" Her voice lowers into a soft whine when she says, "I need them."

Julie’s eyes flood with tears the more she speaks, and though she realizes he probably has no idea that Beverly always makes sure there are dahlias for her, she can’t help but let her frustrations out somewhere. Plus, she doesn't know him, so it's fine, right?

At the prospect of Julie bursting into tears right there and then in front of him, Luke jumps right into panic mode.

If Beverly’s shop receives a terrible review because of him, she will absolutely have his head.

(Beverly is a sweet lady but the sass.)

“Uh — hold on, just give me a second,” Luke stutters, reaching his hand out as if to comfort her. Julie’s eyes drop down to his hand and he snaps it back and tangles it into the back of his head with a sheepish smile. He’s always been very touch-oriented; it’s a problem sometimes, especially with people he doesn’t know very well. He just can't help it; if he sees someone in pain and suffering, he'll want jump in and help. However, it seems like the only way to help this particular distraught customer is to find some dahlias. “Hey, okay — listen, why don’t I check in the back? I could definitely be wrong.”

Julie’s eyes meet his and he becomes increasingly aware that she’s about ready to lose her bearings and cry right there in front of him. It makes his heart turn in his chest, and he doesn’t even know her that well. He takes a step back to head to the cooler but his hesitation is at an all-time high; Julie looks so ready to explode and it rubs him the wrong way to leave her on her own.

But he figures it’ll be for the best if he can find the dahlias, so he awkwardly steps back to enter the cooler. The cooler is relatively empty, only vases with long-stemmed roses, some ready-to-go arrangements and a few orders waiting to be picked up. He walks through the cooler quickly, checking any crevice for hidden dahlias. It’s only when he spots a bouquet of dahlias with baby’s breath, neatly wrapped in cellophane that he stops in his tracks. There��s a note attached and Luke recognizes Beverly’s loopy hand-writing.

A pretty, curly-haired brunette will be by to pick these up later. No charge. Please be nice, Luke.

Luke nearly snorts at the addition of the note, but quickly realizes it was probably added because of the brunette’s emotional state that he just witnessed. He would otherwise argue he’s a very kind person.

(He isn’t usually wrong about what they have in stock either, but it seems today is a day for firsts.)

Luke grabs the bouquet and gently brings it back out. Luckily, the brunette hasn’t burst into tears; in fact, she seems more composed than earlier (he can’t help but think that maybe it was because his bothersome presence was gone).

“Ah — I’m sorry about that,” Luke apologizes, holding out the bouquet. He realizes the note Beverly left is still stuck onto the cellophane when he catches Julie’s eyes very obviously reading it. He awkwardly snatches the note back and shoves it into his pocket, but when he notices the right side of her lip quirk into a small smirk, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride. “Turns out Bev had this ready for you in the back.”

Julie accepts the bouquet, glancing up to send him a small, thankful smile. She recognizes she was quite snappy with him, and truthfully, he handled it considerably well as opposed to how he could have. But she also knows she isn’t mad at him and he didn’t deserve to be her punching bag today. Whoever he is.

Julie doesn’t recognize him, but he seems to know Beverly just as well as she does. He has a decently cute smile and Julie seems to be drawn to his mannerisms; the way he constantly scratches the back of his scalp or bites his lip when he’s awaiting replies.

She only notices that she’s been staring at him for the last few seconds when he clears his throat and his hand dives towards the back of his neck. She would be embarrassed if this wasn’t already one of the worst days of her life; it truly can’t get any worse.

Instead, she pulls out her wallet with her free hand, but Luke shakes his head. She saw the note that said no charge, but she had been a nightmare, it was the least she could do. “No charge,” Luke murmurs, eyes latching to the delicately wrapped dahlias. “Boss’s orders.”

Julie forces another smile onto her lips. “Thank you,” she says. She debates saying anything else, maybe apologizing but she’s already running late and she doesn’t want her family to think she’s bailing on them again.

So, she turns to leave. Immediately, dread starts pooling at the bottom of her belly and she just knows getting to the cemetery will be one of the hardest things she'll have to face.

At watching her leave after a painfully obvious fake smile, Luke hesitates. He’s a curious person, and he doesn’t like to see people hurt. He always needs to make things better; it's part of who he is. So, he bites his lip and launches forward, blurting loudly, “Are you alright?”

Julie nearly snorts because she most definitely is not alright and that much is obvious, but it’s nice of him to ask anyway. She stops in her tracks and turns to him with soft eyes. “I’m not, but thank you anyway,” she replies honestly.

Her eyes drop down to search for a name tag, but he doesn’t have one. She then remembers the name scribbled on the note at the same time he supplies, “Luke.”

“Thank you anyway, Luke,” Julie repeats. Her eyes quickly roam over his features once again. She hadn’t noticed his sleeveless tank was an old band t-shirt, but at this close range, she could tell it had been purposely ripped and destroyed. The shirt, coupled with his distressed denim pants and outdated jean-chain gives her serious 90s vibes. She decides she likes it.

Luke nods in response, folding his lips in an awkward smile. Her warm brown eyes are softer now as they gaze at him and for some reason, he can feel his heartbeat start to pick up. She turns to walk away again and this time he doesn’t interrupt.

He would absolutely deny that he was creeping on her (he just happened to be looking in that direction) but he watches as she ducks into the tattoo parlour across the street. He finds it a bit odd; it seems like a weird place to go after a flower shop, especially given how upset she looked.

One thing he does know: it seems as if Beverly is quite familiar with this mysterious brunette, and he would be lying if he said he doesn't want to know more about her.

It's a fair assumption to say Luke’s life is a tad bit complicated at the moment.

His band, Sunset Curve, was graced with the amazing opportunity to record their demo in a borrowed studio. It was a truly unbelievable experience, and Luke was eating up every second. But as the resident songwriter, it was up to him to make sure they had enough original songs to even record.

It’s no secret that Luke has been having trouble in the inspiration department.

The lyrics just weren’t flowing to him like they usually did. He wasn’t really sure of the reason; he originally just assumed writer’s block. But then a certain event occurred and he started to see everything in a different light.

It sounds ridiculous, he knows that.

He doesn’t even know her name.

But her effortless beauty compelled him, and there was something about the sadness in her eyes that drew him in. There were many things about their encounter that were completely out of the ordinary. Her vulnerability and obvious desperation drove his curiosities wild and even though he’d only been in her presence for a few minutes, he was itching to know more.

So, he isn’t the least bit surprised when he starts adding words to his notebook as potential lyrics start spilling out of him.

Specifically, he focuses on her emotions and the obvious distress she seemed to be feeling. It’s out of the realm of his usual type of song, and maybe it isn’t something he’d pitch for the band, but a smile comes to his lips as he thinks of these passages just for himself.

she closed the door

she hides behind a face nobody knows

she feels her skin touch the floor

she wants to fight

but her eyes are tired, nobody’s on her side

she wants to feel like she did before

she looks into her mirror

wishing someone could hear her, so loud

It's definitely not his usual, but her presence in his life gets the ball rolling.

He needs to know more.

Luke finds himself a week later back in Beverly’s flower shop, this time with her by his side. They receive deliveries on Thursday evenings, so Luke usually stops in to help. He hadn’t gotten a chance to pick up another shift since he met the mysterious brunette last week due to back-to-back sessions at the studio, but this was finally his opportunity.

He hasn’t found the right opportunity to ask; he isn’t even sure what to say, but apparently his actions are a bit more obvious than he's intending them to be.

“Am I about to get robbed?”

At Beverly’s odd, but capturing question, Luke turns to her with furrowed brows. She’s sitting behind the counter, checking off their invoices one by one. He’s unloading boxes into the cooler, albeit slower than necessary. He’s a tad bit distracted by the glass windows.

“What?” He mumbles, stopping for a moment to focus on her words. He wipes a hint of sweat off his brow. For someone with a high level of stamina due to the countless hours on stage, he's quite embarrassed at how out of shape he seems to be from a few boxes.

Beverly peeks up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Well, you keep looking out the window, almost as if one of your dorky bandmates is about to run in and break into my register."

Luke snorts at the mention of his dorky bandmates; she definitely isn't wrong. But that isn't the reason why he continues to glance out the window.

“No. It’s just — that girl from last week, with the dahlias. Uh — what’s her name?”

Beverly's smirk is evident and he nearly shies away from the knowing look in her eye. “You didn’t ask for her name?”

His eyes roll back at the obvious judgment in her tone and he wants to laugh, but she's already beat him to it. “I was kind of distracted trying to make sure she didn't cry at the sight of my face."

"Right, I could've warned you about that."

Luke's eyes latch onto her smirk. "You could've."

“She’s a sweet girl,” Beverly sighed, filing another completed invoice. “She’s had a hard life, sad story, really.”

That certainly piqued Luke’s interest.

“What happened?”

But he should’ve figured Beverly wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

“Not my story to tell,” she says simply. “But I can tell you her name is Julie and she works at the tattoo parlour across the street.”

Realization dawns on Luke at once. He saw her ducking into the parlour after buying flowers but he never imagined she actually worked there. It didn’t seem like her thing, but he should know better than anyone not to judge a book by its cover.

“Are you going to go talk to her?”

At Beverly’s absurd suggestion, he scoffs. “What? No. I was just curious; I don’t even know her.”

Beverly rolls her eyes. “How is it possible that the male species have gotten even stupider since my time?”

Luke drops his jaw in offence, but she's already slid her glasses back on and started studying the next invoice.

Did the thought of casually dropping by the tattoo parlour cross his mind? Yes, of course. But he doesn't want to do that. He isn't used to that. He's never the one that had to chase; it sounds stupid, especially because he hardly knows her, but sometimes there's just a feeling. A feeling that might not make any sense at all, but it's there and it's impossible to ignore.

Luke did his best to ignore the feeling, but only a mere week later, he would find that it wasn't that easy.

"Alright, boys. You all understand how important tonight is, right?"

Alex rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time, as if Luke hasn't drilled the thought into their minds a million times by now. Ever since they secured this gig, it was all Luke could talk about. They each knew how important it was. Yes, their demo was currently in the making but one amazing performance in front of some killer producers, and their demo may not even be necessary to get signed.

It's exciting and anxious as hell.

"I know, I know," Luke sighs, running his hands nervously through his hair. He can't stay still and he can't stop moving or his anxiety will eat him alive. "I'm just so nervous."

Reggie nods his head from the snack table. They each have their own ways of dealing with pre-stage jitters and nerves; Reggie's happens to be stress-eating, and his food of choice? Hot dogs. How he manages to not upchuck everything when onstage is a question they've all asked themselves multiple times.

"I get it dude," he says through a mouthful. "But we're going to rock this like we always do. It'll be awesome."

Reggie's words are comforting but they do little to ease Luke's nerves. This is a big deal for him, for all of them. After so many years of following their passions and trying to accomplish their dreams, a real chance is finally awaiting them just outside these doors.

It's enough to make him nearly puke twice before he makes it on stage, and it only frustrates him further because he never gets this panicky.

He works himself up before he takes the final plunge and finds his way to the one place in the world he's ever felt truly comfortable; centre-stage in front of a microphone with his guitar slung around his neck.

The lights are bright, but he's used to it. His connection to the crowd is instant; that's never been a problem for Luke. He reaches the crowd in the way he sings passionately, surrendering every emotion each song elicits.

He's trying not to think too much; he doesn't want to get too far into his head because he does his best work musically when he isn't thinking, only feeling the music coursing through his veins. He can easily spot the producers in the corporate pantsuits sitting in the far back corner and his eyes try to avoid them as best as possible.

He focuses on the music, on his boys and on giving the performance of a lifetime.

Luke is so focused, he momentarily misses the sight of his flower shop mystery girl smack-dab in the middle of the crowd. His eyes immediately snap back, catching her polite smile as she nods her head along with the music. Though she isn't jumping along like some fans in the front row, she is offering some acknowledgement that she's enjoying his music.

And he isn't sure why, but it sends a fire through his chest that animates him for the rest of the show.

They don't take any breaks during the set; their dedication is endless.

Luke can physically feel how animated the club is, how unbelievably well their show is going. He shouldn't be surprised but the nerves were too much for him earlier. By the time they're winding down for their last performance of the night, Luke doesn't want it to end.

But he's also perfectly aware of the incredibly important people sitting near the back and he knows he has to face them eventually.

They end their stellar performance with their favourite song to perform, so near and dear to their hearts, and also energetic as hell, Now or Never. It's the perfect oath to live their lives to the fullest, as Luke and the boys try to do every day. Today is no different; an opportunity came knocking and Luke plans to take full advantage.

When Luke finally makes his way off stage, everything seems to happen in slow motion.

He can idly feel Alex pulling on his tank and Reggie wrapping an arm around his shoulders, messing up his sweaty hair even more than it already was.

Even when a woman wearing a salmon coloured pantsuit sneaks into their makeshift dressing room to have a quick word, he feels like he's frozen in time, watching from outside his body.

Alex does all the talking (mostly nervous rambling) but the lady, who later introduces herself as Lucy Fields, happens to think it's adorably hilarious.

She tells them she absolutely loved their performance and sees some real, authentic potential; they're young, have a defined sound and a clear talent for writing their own music. Lucy hands them her card, asks for a phone number for reference and promises to call.

When Reggie confusedly asks what this means, Lucy offers them a small smirk.

"I'm going to set up a meeting with my boss. If he likes what he sees, maybe you guys will be signing some paperwork." At their obvious disbelief, she continues, "You guys will definitely be signing some paperwork."

The silence that follows is palpable, but understandable.

Luke hasn't been able to utter a single word since getting off stage, which is highly unusual for him. This news doesn't help his predicament. Reggie starts coughing violently when he chokes on his water, and Alex is nearly about to drop to the ground because what even is air anymore?

Lucy isn't really sure what reaction she would get, but she isn't expecting complete silence. This is rectified when three, fully-grown man-children launch themselves at her, thanking profusely; Reggie even goes so far to plant a sloppy kiss on her forehead.

"We are so sorry," Alex apologizes breathlessly, yanking Reggie back towards his side. "We've just been wait — this is really huge for us."

But Lucy is laughing, so they know they haven't totally ruined their opportunity before it's even begun. "It's alright, boys. This is exciting, I get it. I'll be in touch," she promises before leaving the way she came in.

It's only fitting that the boys can't find any words for a solid five minutes. How does one sum this up into words? Luke certainly can't; in fact, he's pretty certain his brain is short-circuiting because his mind is completely blank.

"What the actual hell?" Alex mutters, quite literally sitting down on the floor where he stood. "Did that just happen? Am I dreaming?"

In response, Reggie whacks Alex on the back of the head; the blonde whines in pain. "Not dreaming," Reggie replies positively. He turns to Luke, nodding, "Dude, you haven't said a word. You good?"

"I don't know what to say," Luke finally says. "This is fucking wild. I mean — I knew it was a possibility, I know this is what we were hoping for but, it's actually happening."

Alex shoots Luke a toothy grin, eyes involuntarily watering with happy tears. "It's finally happening," he repeats. He braces himself when Reggie suddenly launches himself onto him, then groans when Luke hops on as well, laughing heartily.

"It's finally happening!"

It's only when he's distracted, laughing with his brothers on what is quite possibly one of the best days of his life that he remembers just exactly who is currently outside. Untangling himself, he scrambles off the dog pile and nervously tries to fix his messy hair.

"Shit, I have to go."

Alex furrows his eyebrows. "What? Where?"

"We have to celebrate!" Reggie pouts, grunting when Alex pushes him off.

Luke is busy rummaging through all their belongings, looking for some breath mints or even gum. Alex peeks at his actions with curiosity. "What are you — Lucas Patterson! Who is the girl?"

"Shh!" Luke fires back. He isn't totally sure why he does, because it isn't like she can hear them, but it's automatic. "It's the flower shop girl, Julie. I saw her in the crowd."

Reggie shares an incredibly suggestive look with Alex, and Luke can't help but roll his eyes. He finally locates his emergency pack of breath mints and pops three into his mouth. "The tattoo artist? Oh, dude, get your ass out there."

"Good luck Luke! Don't mess it up!" Alex yells after him.

Luke slams the door shut behind him and chuckles; he really should get some new friends. But if things go as expected at this meeting, he'll be stuck with them for life.

He is keenly aware of the fact that Julie might not even be around anymore. It's more than probable, but Luke hopes luck is on his side tonight.

After all, he owes her somewhat of a thank you.

He was in a musical rut before she stormed into his flower shop and nearly bit his head off. He can't explain it, but their encounter sparked something within him and he found himself writing more lyrics than he could keep up with.

Plus, she seemed to recognize him when they made brief eye contact, so it couldn't be a bad idea, right?

(Tell that to his palms that are obsessively sweating as his bright eyes rake through the hoards of people looking for her.)

Luke finds her relatively quickly; she's perched a top of a stool directly in front of the bar. Even though he can only see her back, he recognizes the cascade of curls down her back.

Maybe luck is on his side.

He can’t even put into words how good it looks on her, and maybe that’s a little shallow of him to think, but he’s truly floored by her appearance.

He knew she was beautiful when he saw her that first time, but seeing this side of her, this personal side of her; she’s simply gorgeous and he can’t wait to tell her.

He takes a deep breath and fixes his shirt; it's old and ratty and ripped, but it hasn't failed him yet. He has absolutely no idea what he even plans on saying; he never has to think about it, it usually just comes to him.

Luke slides in next to her, flagging down the bartender immediately.

He really needs a drink.

“Rum and coke, please.”

The tone of his voice must render familiar because Julie pivots on her stool with curious eyes and a lazy smile.

“Well, if it isn’t flower shop boy.”

In another world, he might’ve been offended that the only memorable thing about him was that he worked in a flower shop (he would argue his devilishly good looks or sparkling eyes were absolutely unforgettable). But with one look at her tilted head and amused eyes, he's just glad she remembers him at all.

“In the flesh,” he replies, tongue pressed against his teeth to keep from smiling too excitedly. “Though I do think I proved myself on stage; rockstar is a much more badass nickname."

Julie’s eyes twinkle mischievously as she clicks her tongue before pulling the straw of her drink between her lips. Luke’s eyes immediately follow absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” she drawls with a hint of sarcasm, “I think flowers suit you somehow.”

He wouldn't normally associate himself with flowers.

He's all about ripped jeans and band tees; bottomless coffee pots and dark splashes of colour. Flowers don't normally come to mind, but for some reason, the thought that she does associate him with flowers brings a smile to his lip. Clearly flowers mean a lot to her, if the dahlia tattoo is anything to go by.

It also isn't the wildest thought; he does occasionally work in a flower shop, after all.

The bartender slides his drink across the counter and Luke digs into his back pocket for his wallet. His emerald eyes glance at Julie's nearly empty glass and he leans forward to ask for a refill before throwing a few bills onto the counter.

Julie's eyes glance at the new drink and she shoots a shy smile in his direction.

He doesn't know her very well, but from what he's seen, shy doesn't really seem to fit her.

"You're in a band."

It almost seems like a question, but it very obviously isn't. Luke still feels the need to reply.

"Yeah. We do alright," he replies, hiding a chuckle.

If there is one thing that Luke Patterson is one-hundred percent certain of is that Sunset Curve rocks. Record deal or not, he knows it and he'll never give it up.

However, it doesn't seem like he'll have to and the thought brings a smile to his lips.

"You guys are more than alright!" Julie's face brightens as she turns to speak more animatedly. "I have to be honest, I wasn't really for going out tonight, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"Pleasantly surprised because you saw a familiar face or —?"

Julie's head tilts again and his eyes absentmindedly trace her jaw. "Pleasantly surprised because you guys were good and I was having fun." As an afterthought, she smirks and adds, "Plus, the drummer was cute."

Luke's smile immediately drops and he returns his focus to his drink with a pout. "He's unavailable," he mutters grumpily.

But then she laughs and with one quick glance at her amused expression, it's clear she's only messing with him.

"I like your ink," he says with a nod. "Are they your designs?"

At the comment, Julie's eyebrows rise beneath her curls. "They are, yeah," she replies with a hint of confusion in her voice.

"Beverly told me you work at the tattoo parlour across the street," Luke explains with a shrug of his shoulders.

While Luke doesn't realize the gravity of his words, Julie is filled with a rush of excitement. Clearly, he's been talking about her or at least thinking about her. It's especially surprising considering how their first meeting actually went.

But the truth is, she's thought about him too.

It was hard not to, given his kind smile and friendly nature. Though she was stressed at the time, she couldn't help but think back afterwards. She was of the type to think about things constantly, even after it was all said and done. Awkward encounters, stupid things she's said, you name it.

So, nearly crying in front of a cute stranger definitely made the list.

"You talked about me?" Julie asks, revelling in the quick bloom of red that spreads across Luke's cheeks.

Though he's blushing, he seems completely at ease. "I actually asked about you," he admits, taking another large gulp of his glass. He senses the burn of the alcohol passing through his system. "I was curious."

Julie nods, stirring her glass with the black straw. "Not curious enough to stop by?"

This time, his eyebrows rose in surprise. "I would've stood out too much."

At this, Julie's dark eyes roam over Luke's bare arms, subtlety forgotten. She's surprised she even held out this long, given how loose his shirt is. The cutoff sleeves droop low on his sides and she has a decently clear view of his chest at the angle he's sitting. Her eyes automatically snap back up to his face where he's smirking through another sip from his glass.

His arms are still glistening with sweat, but they're bare of any ink.

"I mean, we can always change that," Julie suggests. She hasn't taken notice of how her body has absentmindedly leaned closer to him, but Luke has. If his racing pulse is anything to go by, he's definitely noticed.

Luke lets out a breathy chuckle, gaze dropping to appreciate the tattoos littering her caramel skin (don't even get him started on what her tattoos are doing to him). "Needles and I don't get along too well and I'm sure as hell not about to cry in front of you before we've even had a first date."

Julie's eyes widen at his forwardness and Luke's breath catches in his throat.

But only seconds later, a pleased smile spreads across Julie's mouth slowly and his gaze automatically drops.

"We can change that too."

Luke has mysteriously forgotten how to breathe, but luckily, Julie is making all the first moves. She pulls her phone out of her purse, unlocks it and brings up a new contact page. She hands him the phone with bright, hopeful eyes and he can only take the phone numbly because he's pretty sure his brain is starting to shutdown.

He doesn't ever freeze up. He doesn't panic when it comes to girls.

In any other scenario, he would had had her number minutes ago.

But this. This is different.

It feels odd for him not to be in control but he's weirdly okay with it? He can't explain it, but he'll sure as hell enjoy it.

Julie glances over her shoulder towards the door as Luke finishes up with her phone. He hands it back to her, expertly making sure their fingers brush as she takes it back (see? His game isn't completely gone).

"I have to go," Julie explains, and is that a breathy tone Luke detects? "My friends are waiting, but it was nice to see you again, Luke." Her eyes seem to go blank for a moment and she shakes her head. "Oh — my name is Julie, by the way. Julie Molina."

A grin blooms across his lips. He already knew her name, but he isn't trying to freak her out with that information. "It's nice to see you again, Julie."

Julie slides off her stool and tucks a few wayward curls behind her ear.

Luke knows he shouldn't, but his gaze roams over her figure. But she did oogle his biceps, so they were even, right?

"By the way," he mumbles and curses his mouth that moves faster than his brain. He's up and out of his seat before he notices. "This might be totally out of place for me to say, but I hope you're doing alright. You know — from that day and all."

He's wincing, preparing himself for when she tells him to go to hell or where he can shove his sentiments, but she surprises him. He shouldn't be surprised because she seems full of surprises, but he still is.

It had only been a week since the fifth anniversary of Rose's death but the wound is still just as fresh. She appreciated when he asked her if she was okay back then, and she appreciated it just as much now.

It's quite comical. She actively avoided her co-workers and friends just so they wouldn't ask her if she was okay, because clearly she wasn't. But she didn't mind a complete stranger asking her; in fact, she welcomed and appreciated it.

Obviously Luke wants to know what had her so upset that day. And it wasn't just that day; he can see the sadness that follows as soon as he mentions it now. It's clearly something she struggles with everyday and that kills him. He wants to know how he can help, how he can make it go away.

Hopefully, he'll get that chance one day, but for now, he's still waiting on that first date.

Julie's sad eyes sweep across his crestfallen features and she steps forward. Her delicate hand presses down on his shoulder to bring him closer and she gently presses her lips to the apple of his cheek. She lingers, because she can and even though he just played an entire set under hot, gleaming lights, he still smells amazing.

"I'm doing better, thank you," Julie murmurs, stepping back. Her eyes roam Luke's face; his blown pupils, lips parted in surprise. "I'll message you," she promises, taking a few steps back towards her friends who are staring very obviously.

She has all the power; he doesn't even have her number. But he's alright with it.

It was small and it felt like nothing, but hearing that she was doing better made his heart flutter.

Luke realizes with a start that she's waiting on a final reply from him before she turns around and joins her friends. So, he offers her a smile and watches in mild horror as his arm comes up through its own volition to grace her with a goofy wave.

But she merely laughs before turning back to her friends.

Luke decides he wants to hear that sound as often as possible.

All in all, his night turned out pretty successful. He can't wait to go tell his boys.

To say that Luke, Reggie and Alex weren't glued to Alex's phone for the entire next week would be the biggest lie of any of their lives.

Alex had given his number to producer Lucy Fields; she promised to call and now they were waiting hand and foot. They each know there's a chance she may not call at all and any opportunity they thought they got, disappears forever. But they were all choosing to be optimistic.

The anxiety is overwhelming.

Luke thought pre-gig was bad, but post-gig is so much worse.

He has to keep himself busy or he'll go insane. So, he focuses on his writing and offers to take a few more shifts at Beverly's.

And he has no ulterior motive to pick up some more shifts. None at all.

It isn't like he can hide it from Beverly anyway. Not when he has his nose pressed to the glass window every hour to stare at the tattoo parlour across the street.

"Good Lord," Beverly mutters after the fifth hour. "If you don't get over there within the next five minutes, I'm firing you."

Luke whips around to face her, hiding his laughter. "You wouldn't."

"Honey, watch me."

Luke chuckles, detaching himself from the window. He's being extra, he knows. But it's mostly because Beverly's sighs and reactions are priceless. He doesn't need to stare through a window to get a date; not when he's already gotten it.

"No need, Bev," he sasses, grabbing some window cleaner (it's the least he can do). "I'm going out with her later today."

Beverly's eyebrows rise so high, they disappear under her hair. She looks so surprised, Luke wants to laugh. "How did you manage that?"

"Saw her at my last gig," he shrugs, hiding a smile. "You know how charming I am, Bev, it was only a matter of time."

Beverly rolls her blue eyes. "Do you need to leave early to change into a date-worthy outfit?"

Luke glances down at his outfit; his signature black ripped jeans, a distressed white band t-shirt and his plaid jacket hanging across the counter. It's normal Luke attire so he isn't sure what brought on the question. "I was just going to wear this?"

Beverly stares at him for a moment before folding her lips to hide a smirk. "Well, you may as well show her what she's getting."

Clearly Beverly woke up today on attack mode.

Earlier this morning, Julie shot Luke a quick text message. They had been texting ever since the day after Luke's gig, but they were solely feeling each other out, and hadn't made any concrete plans. But it had been a week now, and Julie figured it was time.

Luke awoke to a simple text message from Julie, asking if he wanted to grab a coffee after she was done work. It was the best wakeup call, better than a splash of water across his face. He promised to meet her outside of work since he'd be helping out today too and now he was counting down the minutes.

Coffee was a good start.

It's simple, close to their comfort zones and who doesn't love coffee?

Luke still hasn't heard from Lucy so he's grateful for any distraction.

When the time came, he grabs his jacket, places a sloppy kiss on Beverly's cheek and crosses the street with a grin on his features. He leans against one of the light posts, waiting diligently.

When a man with jet black hair piled on top of his head exits, he hears him yell, "Night Jules! Don't forget to lock up!" He makes brief eye contact with Luke and he seems to recognize him from his gig the other night. He nods his head at Luke, glancing back at Julie before walking off.

Luke swears he watches him smirk before he walks away.

But then Julie exits the building and all focus is immediately on her and only her.

She's once again wearing that army green jacket from their first meeting and when she turns to face him, he realizes she's wearing a distressed denim black mini-skirt. She's also wearing a black crop-top and matching black converse. All he wants to think is if all tattoo artists have a black only dress code, but his brain is currently short-circuiting at all the soft skin he wasn't expecting to see.

It's only when he spots the tattoo located on her upper thigh that he realizes he might have to hold onto the light post for support.

"Hey!" Julie greets with the softest smile. She turns around again to lock the front door and Luke lets out an embarrassing puff of air. Get your shit together, Luke, he thinks to himself. "It's nice to see you again."

Julie debates for a moment if she should hug him but ultimately decides against it. He already seems a little pale, so she opts to nod her head in the direction of the coffee shop.

"How are you?" The words Luke has been chanting in his brain finally make it out past his lips, and he turns to gouge her reaction. His hands are stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans as they walk. The itch to hold her hand is strong but, not yet.

Julie nods her head, smiling. That's always a good sign. "It was a good week. Really busy." She eyes his covered arms. "You sure you don't want some ink?"

"Pretty sure we decided after the first date only."

Julie's intrigued eyes turn to him, amusement lighting them up. "Right. I think we did."

Luke stops to open the door to the coffee shop and waits for Julie to enter before he goes in after her. It's surprisingly not busy, considering the usual post-work buzz, but he likes it better like this. It's a full service shop and by the time Luke and Julie take a seat and pull off their jackets, a friendly waitress is already waiting to take their order.

His gaze is automatically drawn to her displayed tattoos and he nearly forgets to relay his order to the waitress.

"Hey, so, before we get into the first date small talk, I just want to be completely transparent with you."

Luke's smile dims just a smidge. It isn't the greatest way to start a conversation, but he's obviously going to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"That day we first met," Julie takes a full breath, actively avoiding eye contact. She doesn't have to tell him this, but she feels as if he deserves to know. "It wasn't my finest hour. I don't normally snap at employees who are just doing their job, I promise."

Luke nods in accordance.

"That day happened to be the fifth anniversary of the death of my mom."

All the colour from Luke's face drains. He planned to let her finish speaking before he said anything, but he just had to jump in with an, "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Julie replies with a sad smile. "I've never been good at dealing with that day and I haven't been able to visit her grave properly ever since but my family was hounding me to visit, and she loves dahlias —" Julie's eyes glaze over, so caught up in her own thoughts. "She loved dahlias and I always try to keep some in the house. Beverly helps with that. I just wanted you to know it was an off-day for me, but I do have some baggage I don't totally know how to handle and I think it's fair you know that before you get overly invested."

Oh, but he already is.

Instead of saying something right away, Luke places his hand on the table, palm up. An invitation if she wants it.

"You didn't have to tell me any of that, but I appreciate it," Luke says softly. His pulse quickens when she intertwines their fingers together. "That's not enough to scare me off. If you don't want to move this forward, that's okay, I understand. But it won't be on my account."

Julie solely stares at their intertwined hands before a smile breaks out onto her features.

As if on cue, their waitress appears with their drinks and they begrudgingly let go of each other.

Now that the hard stuff was out in the open, conversation flows comfortably. Julie is having the time of her life, nearly laughing at every other word that comes out of Luke's mouth. He revels in it; making her laugh is the highlight of his days.

Over an hour passes by and they hardly even notice. They're too busy engrossed in each other. Eventually they decide to take a walk; the conversation is too good to stop, but sitting was becoming exhausting.

It's only when Luke's phone buzzes in his pocket that he realizes how much time has passed. He doesn't reach for his phone because that's rude, but it continues to vibrate incessantly and he has no choice.

He quickly apologizes to Julie, who waves him off.

Luke pulls off to the side and Julie busies herself with checking her own phone. The many vibrations are coming from their Sunset Curve group chat, namely from Alex. Luke's heartbeat picks up before he even opens the messages. His eyes scan the screen quickly. Alex's messages are nearly incoherent, a jumble of words and random letters but Luke quickly understands.

ADFAGDJFSHFNG SFFSVVBAAKG

THEY GOOGLEBS US

WE SIGNGG CONTRATS TOMORROWS

They googled us.

We sign a contract tomorrow.

Luke doesn't mean to stop breathing, but he does. He only dials back into planet Earth when Julie gently touches a hand to his arm. "Luke? Are you okay?" She pulls him closer to the wall.

"I —" He doesn't even know how to explain it. His jaw can't seem to close. "We, um — we met with a producer after our gig. She said she was going to talk to her boss and then call us."

Julie's face immediately lights up.

"That was Alex," Luke continues numbly. "They said they googled us. They want us to sign a contract tomorrow."

Julie's jaw drops in solidarity. "A contract? Like a record deal?"

Luke's neck snaps up to look at her, a smile breaking out over his features.

Holy fucking shit, it's really happening.

"Luke! Congratulations!" Julie immediately launches herself into his arms, boundaries be damned. Luke doesn't mind a single bit, arching his back to lift her off her feet.

He's so happy; he throws all caution out to the wind.

"I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you in the crowd of my show."

Julie's arms lower and her lips split in shock.

The hesitation in her eyes only lasts for a moment.

"I think I have too."

It's all the acknowledgment he needs before he sneaks a hand to cradle her cheek. The sun is slowly setting, but the rays are hitting her cheeks just right. Her dark eyes drop to his lips before they fan closed across her cheeks. Luke sucks in a deep breath, then gently presses his lips against hers, slotting his lips perfectly in between.

It's short, simple, sweet and chaste.

Luke isn't trying to overdo it on their first date. He wasn't even planning on kissing her today, to be perfectly honest. But inspiration and opportunity struck, and he couldn't help himself.

He's pleasantly surprised when Julie secures his head with both hands and surges forward to capture his lips once again. This kiss is nothing like the first; Julie is completely in control, and when her tongue slips into his mouth, chaste isn't really the word he'd use to describe it.

His eyes are easily hooded when she pulls away with a smirk.

And she believed he wasn't invested yet?

"Thought you deserved a proper congratulations. It's not everyday you score a record deal."

Luke swallows harshly, hand crawling into the hair on the back of his head. "Appreciate that," he coughs out.

God, he really needs to learn to be much smoother around her.

As much as Julie enjoys his company and would like to spend even more time with him, this is a special moment for him and it wasn't her he should be with.

Julie lets her hand slide down his arm, squeezing his wrist gently. "I had fun today. But I think you should go be with your band."

An excited grin spreads across his face as he leans down and presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek; Julie can only giggle. "Thank you!" He excitedly taps her nose before starting to run away. He turns momentarily and shouts, "I'll call you!" Then he runs off, leaving Julie laughing.

Julie doesn't expect one of the worst days of her life to lead to the best.

But it does.

Luke is infectious. He invades her life so easily and he fits, regardless of the differences.

He understands her baggage and he gives her the time and space necessary to heal. She learns his triggers and recognizes when he needs her and when he needs space. They're respectful of each other's boundaries and it's what makes their relationship work.

Luke surprises her every day.

Sometimes he'll crawl into bed late at night, when Julie has already snoozed off from a long day at work. He'll do his best not to wake her but he misses her all day and can't wait to tell her he wrote a new song. About her. Because all his songs are about her.

When he finds himself in a writing mood, Julie will sit next to him, binging the latest tv show or playing BuzzFeed quizzes on her phone. It doesn't matter what she does, he just needs her there next to him as his inspiration. Sometimes her presence is a distraction more than anything and he'll throw his songbook to the side, pressing his lips to her neck as she loses herself in a fit of giggles.

She's there when their first album is officially released. She's there at their first official show under the new label. She's always cheering him on backstage, his good luck charm.

When they go on their first official tour, she can't attend because she can't leave her work for that long (not that he would want her to anyway, he understands how much she loves her job). It's the first time they're apart for that long, and it hurts but they're mature about it. Instead, they fill the time with late-night phone calls and FaceTime sessions. When he surprises her at home a day early, she nearly throws the bowl she wiping down at his face, then hurriedly jumps into his awaiting arms.

And it isn't often, but sometimes they fight. They're both especially opinionated and like to get in the last word. When it comes to each other, it can sometimes get heated and often they may say something they don't actually mean. Julie loves to sneak out onto the balcony after a fight; the breeze helps her cool down and look at things with more clarity. Luke can't stand the thought of Julie being angry with him, so it never took long before he followed her out onto the balcony. She would quickly crawl into his inviting lap, they would apologize to each other and talk about things more rationally. Sometimes, all it took was the cold breeze and Luke's soft lips against Julie's temple to calm them down.

It's the relationship they've both always dreamed about but never thought they could actually have.

Sure, Luke's fame sometimes comes with a price, but their love for each other trumps everything else.

He eventually allows Julie to ink his skin like she's expressed so many times she would love to do. He gets a matching Sunset Curve tattoo on his bicep with Alex and Reggie; it's simple, just their logo. He trusts Julie and only Julie to do it; he doesn't need anyone witnessing his pain and she's already too far gone to leave him solely because he nearly passes out from a tattoo.

(She also distracts him with soft kisses and no one else could do that.)

When he walks by a jewellery store one day and the pull is too strong to ignore, he knows with one-hundred percent certainty that this is the path he wants to take.

And when he drops to one knee at the most inconvenient of times because she found the velvet box hidden at the bottom of his sock drawer, his plans for a fancy proposal escape his mind immediately. Her hands fly to cover the gasp escaping her mouth, eyes clouding with tears.

Her answer is yes, always yes.

And every year when the anniversary of Rose's death comes around, Luke looks to Julie for guidance on what she needs. It takes time and strength, but with Luke's help, she's able to visit her mother's grave, drop off some dahlias and tell Luke all about the goddess that used to be her mother.

He often wishes he got the chance to meet her because he knows he would have loved her. Every time he visits Rose's grave, he silently promises to love and honour her daughter for as long as he lives. He hopes that's enough to help her soul continue to rest in peace.

At every visit, Julie would wrap her arm around Luke's and lean her head against his shoulder.

He never realizes it originally, but Julie believes her mom is responsible for their meeting, and she makes sure to thank her every visit.

"Thank you, mom," she murmurs quietly. "Thank you for bringing Luke to me."

44 notes · View notes

fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

Text

Contending the Flame IX

Author’s note: Happy New Year everyone! Let’s start it off right with positivity and no looking back on a bad 2020. Can’t wait to continue to write for such excellent fans, you guys/gals are the best!

Masterlist

Word count: 2741

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: The usual, nothing new to add.

Since your unexpected kiss with Ivar in that dark corridor, you had avoided him. It was no simple task, as he seemed hell-bent on getting you alone if he could, and that made you feel like a mouse living with a cat. You double-checked every corner before turning, and you tried to finish your work before sundown. Audhild had been an additional ally to you, whether intentionally or by happy accident, you weren't sure. She kept you by her side even with tasks she could have accomplished without your help. You weren't certain of her relationships with the sons of Ragnar, only that she acted independently of them. That was something that still took getting used to; women operating on their own accord.

While you continued to ponder over Ivar's pursuing you, you also tried to make sense of your feelings. Men in general were something you had always been fearful of. You had seen rape and abuse from an early age on the streets of Rendlesham, and you learned quickly not to trust an innocent face. Ivar's face was fair when not screwed up and twisted in rage, and he had the shyness of a boy when he kissed you. But you could not forget he was a heathen. His affection had been severe, clutching and pulling with desperation you thought you would drown in.

Your feelings were beginning to frighten you. You had returned the kiss without struggle, and you had been tempted to give in to more before a heightened sense of self had kicked in. This Viking had murdered your priests and his own brother, yet you were having lustful thoughts. God would be disappointed in your lack of restraint.

You needed guidance. When you had been in the abbey, you would often go to the senior Sisters for advice. Audhild was patient, but she would not understand the inner turmoil of a Christian. There was only one other in the encampment who you could speak to, and the moment you were no longer needed by the healers, you snuck off towards the courtyard where Bishop Heahmund was being held.

Only one guard was posted now, as the Bishop had given them no more trouble since you had been brought to him. He was still fettered in chains, but he wore a serene look that would have angered the devil. His faith could not be shaken, and you envied his composure.

As you approached from the building across the way, the guard glanced at you. He did not dismiss you from coming closer to Heahmund, instead seeming to lose interest in you entirely.

"Bishop Heahmund," You called softly, creeping nearer.

His eyes shot open, but he did not appear surprised by your intrusion. Giving you a smile, he indicated for you to sit. "Hello, Sister Mary Catharine. I wondered if I would see you again, but I had hoped. You are the bright light of York in this nest of heathens."

He couldn't seem to cease with the flattery, and you remembered the rumors about Heahmund being led into temptation by widows. Ivar wasn't wrong when he had accused you of having desirable thoughts for the man. Hearing stories of the Bishop, he had sounded larger than life, like a hero from a story. You used to envision him coming to take you away from your lonely days in the convent, this handsome and brave warrior. Those had been the daydreams of a young girl. Seeing him captured by the same heathens who had enslaved you, the glass had shattered, and what remained was just a man.

"How have you been?" You asked while tucking your dress behind you as you sat on the ground.

"My head is clear, and my resolve is set. They want me to fight for their cause, and I see no alternative to this request. If I want my freedom, I'll have to go along with whatever the Boneless one commands."

You frowned, not understanding why Ivar wanted Heahmund on his side. He was a devout Christian who wouldn't stray from his path and could turn on the heathens at the opportune moment. A part of you worried for Ivar.

"Are you certain this is what God would want?"

"I do not see this as a defeat, rather that God has a new plan for me and this is the way I must follow," Heahmund said, and the chains rattled as he readjusted his position to look at you. "But you did not come here to discuss my fate, Sister. You are still bothered by what we spoke of the last time we met. The youngest son of Ragnar is still giving you trouble."

You ducked your head in a penitent gesture. "I feel lost, and in need of guidance. You keep calling me Sister, but shamefully I no longer think of myself as a nun."

"You have forsaken our Lord?"

You were surprised by how there was no venom behind his question, just bald-faced curiosity. "No, I still have my faith, but my station is misplaced. I would like it if you called me (Y/N)."

"(Y/N)? That was your name before you took your vows?"

"Yes, and though I haven't gone by it in years, I feel more like that abandoned little girl than I do Sister Mary Catharine."

"Their people are changing you," Heahmund said, appearing thoughtful. "Your heart is growing restless, and you are curious about their ways. The youngest son of Ragnar is trying to steal you away, but look sharp, for God would never allow one of his children to be pried from his embrace."

"Ivar he…he frightens me, but I am also excited when I am with him," You confessed, and your heart thundered at the admission. "I come alive when he's near. He sees me in a way that no one else ever has."

"(Y/N), look at me," Heahmund demanded, and you did, startled by his tone. "You cannot fall in love with this heathen. He will lead you astray, and leave when it is of most convenience for him. You must pray for forgiveness, and honor God by respecting the vows you have entered into."

His severe expression was marred by what he was preaching, and you felt your hand clench tight in anger. You surged up onto your feet, standing over him like a scarecrow in a field.

"And what of you, Bishop? Were you honoring your vows when you were between the legs of those widows?"

Heahmund turned away with a stiffness to his face, as if he couldn't believe you had spoken such a thing. You had surprised yourself as well. "That was different, and you wouldn't understand."

"You're right about that. Unless you were hoping to find God in the arms of those women, I couldn't possibly understand your reason."

"You are young, and you have yet to learn that life is often complicated."

You threw your arms up in the air, a wild gesture that probably resembled an agitated bird more than that of a rational woman. "Then let it be complicated. Hurt, and lust, and pain, and hunger; these aren't terrible things. They let us know that we are alive, and I've felt more of that here with these heathens than I ever did back home."

"You cannot possibly understand what you are saying," He argued back, and you thought he was going to lecture you further, but he took a moment to collect his breath. "My apologies. You sought my counsel, and I have only offered judgement. We should cling to each other in this desolate place if we are to survive the Northmen."

You didn't want to fight with him any longer either, but you could see that as far as Ivar and his people were concerned, you were not of one mind with Heahmund. Coming to him had erased some of your doubts, but you did not realize how much your tolerance towards the Vikings had shifted. There were bad men among them, but nothing anymore abhorrent than what you had seen from Saxons.

"I'm sorry as well," You said, shifting back and forth on your feet. "I was quick to anger. Maybe I wasn't ready to admit in my heart how I have begun to change towards them."

"May I inquire something else about you? Seeing as I've already insulted you, I don't believe it is too bold to ask."

"You may," You said, permitting him.

"If we were to be liberated by the King and his army this very moment, and brought back to Wessex, would you return to the Church?"

You came to your answer quickly and without trepidation. "No."

"I see." Heahmund didn't let on about how he felt about your answer, and you didn't want to know. Disappointing him seemed about the worst thing you could have done, and you didn't want to dwell on that. "(Y/N), you shouldn't have come here."

You frowned. "Why not?"

"We've been careless. Ivar knew you would come here. See there, the guard is gone."

You looked to where Heahmund's watch had been stationed to find the spot no longer occupied. The guard had taken his leave the moment you two had been engaged in your disagreement. Ivar must have known you would seek out Heahmund eventually.

"It's fine," You said with more confidence than you felt. It was to be expected that Ivar would be waiting to speak with you again, and you knew he could have done so whenever he desired. He had held back on forcing you, but you didn't know if it was kindness or another manipulation on his part. "I think I'm ready to face him. There will be no more running for me."

"Go with the grace and strength God has given you. Even if you have turned from your path of the Church, God will never stop fighting for you."

You knelt before Heahmund. "Thank you, Bishop. I hope I am granted with clarity to see my true path."

You placed a parting kiss on his forehead and offered him a smile before standing. Taking a look around the courtyard you did not spot Ivar waiting for you. You knew he would find you though, and you began making your way back to the small room that you had been sharing with the other slaves who aided the healers.

For such a short walk, one you had taken many times, it seemed to have grown in distance. You kept expecting Ivar or one of his guards to pop out and grab you, but nothing so substantial occurred. The faces you passed paid you no mind, and you arrived at your destination relieved and a little bit let down. You had been ready to get the confrontation over with.

You opened the door, ready to be met with the company of some of the other slaves. None of them spoke with you outside of your duties, and it bothered you. It was an act of self-preservation. They knew you held the attention of Ivar, and so that meant he spared them little mind. Better you than them was probably what many of them thought, and you couldn't fault them for that. It seemed you were fated to be alone. The only other slave who had gone out of her way to speak with you had been a spy, and you hadn't seen her since. Something about that felt deliberate.

When you entered inside of the cramped quarters, you did not find any of your bunkmates. You were alone with Ivar, and that meant his guard couldn't have been far behind. He had kept hidden, luring you into a false sense of security.

"Hello," You greeted dumbly, not knowing what else to say. You kept tight by the door, not taking a step further in. Ivar was looking pensive, with an air of despondence clinging to him.

"How is the Bishop fairing?"

"Resilient," You said, relaxing a bit that he didn't immediately discuss something of a more delicate nature. "He says he will fight for you."

"He doesn't have a choice. Either he fights or he dies, and I will need his strength soon enough," Ivar said, his severe tone causing you to flinch. With stiff movements, he maneuvered himself to stand, but he did not try to encroach upon your space. "The time to leave York has come, but some of my people have chosen to stay behind. Our army needs allies, but this business with the spy has made me doubtful of who I can trust."

"What will you do?" You asked, feeling out of depth to be having this conversation. You knew little of wars and alliances, and you didn't understand why Ivar was sharing this with you.

"It's been decided that Ubbe will return home to Kattegat with a handful of warriors, under the pretense that he has abandoned our army. The woman ruling there murdered our mother, and it is likely she sent the spy."

"Where will you go then, if not home?"

Ivar hesitated, and you had never known him to look away when speaking with you. "I need to meet with Harald Finehair. He could be a potential ally to retake Kattegat...but I also suspect he sent the spy. The sons of Ragnar losing control of the Great Heathen army would benefit him in his bid to become King of Norway."

There was another man with lofty ambitions. The world must look different when you wake up as a Viking. You took a step forward, garnering Ivar's attention.

"And where does he live?"

"In Vestfold, but you will not be going there," Ivar said, and he looked overcome with guilt. "I'm sending you with Ubbe to Kattegat. It is safer for you there."

"But I'm only a slave. What difference does it make where I go?"

"Harald and his men do not exercise restraint when it comes to Christians, and I can't have my eyes constantly on you nor can I keep a guard around one slave without arousing suspicion," He explained, but his reasoning was flawed. You had no doubt Heahmund would be going with him, and you knew Ivar didn't hold back when it came to murdering your people. "Ubbe will keep you safe, and Audhild will go with you as well."

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling any control over your life seeping through your fingers like sand. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do in Kattegat."

"I need you to stay alive," Ivar said with a fierceness that made it sound like an order. He crossed the short distance of the room before you could blink, and took your hands together to place something cold in your grasp. "Take this. It can take a life if you wield it right."

You looked down at the sheathed knife he had gifted you with. It was a heavy weight compared to the ones in the kitchen, and the hilt was carved into the shape of a wolf's head. You gave him a startled look before beginning to protest. "No, I cannot take a life Ivar."

You tried to return it to him, but he was forceful in making sure it stayed with you. "You will if someone wants to take yours. I won't let you die because of your stupid Christian beliefs about hell and perdition."

He squeezed his hand over the top of yours to secure your grip on the knife, and with the other he cupped the back of your neck, bringing you together for another kiss that you had been fearfully longing for. You didn't want to fight him, and you returned the kiss with all of the words you couldn't say. It wasn't a goodbye, you refused to believe that your time with this violent and vulnerable man was at an end. It was an 'until next we meet', and you cradled his jaw in your free hand, while you both still held onto the knife in the other. You don't know when you began to cry, only that the tears were silent as they slid down your face and transferred onto Ivar's cheeks. This caused him to hold you tighter. Even as the fire in the kiss dwindled, you clung to one another knowing this was the last moment you would share before you were to be parted.

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#ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #vikings #history vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine

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notanacousticsetcal · 4 years

Text

begin again - calum hood

summary - based off of the song “begin again” by taylor swift. because i adore her and her songs are basically perfectly condensed little stories. so here’s what i think of when i hear that song.

mood board

warnings - hints at prior emotional and physical abuse, some emotional abuse flashbacks. toxic relationship.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - i’m not sure how I feel about it. I think I like it. please enjoy!! i love doing these song-based stories though I think they’re so fun to write so ill probably do more if you guys like it? highly highly recommend listening to the song first. or after if you want but definitely listen to it, its so good.

Took a deep breath in the mirror. He didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do. Turned the lock and put my headphones on. He always said he didn't get this song but I do, I do.

You straightened your dress in the mirror, sucking in an anxious breath, and applied a thin layer of lip gloss. You glanced down at your heels pushing away his voice in your head. The voice that controlled you for so long. You checked the time, 6:14pm. With that, you grabbed your bag and pulled out your keys, locking the apartment door behind you. A foreign feeling washed over you as you walked down the hall. One that felt a little bit like confidence. You hadn’t felt that in a long time. It was quickly replaced by nerves at the prospect of what would be happening in 15 minutes, but you did your best to suppress them, the constant feeling of not being good enough entering your mind once again.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was still shining though it was getting nearer to the horizon, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It was a warm 80 degrees.

He would say it's too hot. He would ask to stay inside. You, however, wanted to enjoy it. And that’s what matters, you reminded yourself.

You put your headphones on as you walked along the cement sidewalk and shuffled your playlist. A song you used to love started playing softly into your ear and your finger itched to change it. You almost pressed skip, but stopped yourself. What was it he always said?

“I don’t get this song. The lyrics are kind of silly, don’t you think?” He grabs your hand and gives you that little smile he always did. The empty one that made you feel small.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll change it.” You reach up and change the station, falling back into the passenger seat and resting your head against the window, not knowing exactly why you felt so sad.

He knew how much you loved that song.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and tucked your phone away, letting the old song play out. It sparked some of those old feelings in you. The ones you had before you met him. Those feelings of contentment and comfort. Happiness.

“I get this song,” you whispered softly to yourself.

Walked in expecting you'd be late, but you got here early and you stand and wave. I walk to you. You pull my chair out and help me in and you don't know how nice that is, but I do.

You stumbled into the small cafe and began to scan the room for an available small table. You were shocked to see the brunette already occupying a table near the window. Your favorite spot. He had a book out, but you couldn’t read the cover.

Not wanting to disturb him, you walked up hesitantly, prepared to wait awkwardly until he happened to glance upwards, but he noticed you right away, closing his book and shoving it in his bag.

“Hey,” he said as he stood up. A smile quickly took over his adorable features.

“Hi.” You glanced down shyly, and his smile only grew. Before you could move, he reached around behind you and tugged your chair out from its position under the table and gestured for you to take a seat. You stared at him, embarrassingly dumbfounded, before quickly taking the seat and muttering a quick, “thank you.”

A small, unfamiliar feeling began to grow in your stomach, replacing the pesky nerves from earlier.

You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew you liked it.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end.

“And so I ran out of the room, completely covered from head to toe in flour and practically broke down my mom’s door begging for help. She forbade me from baking ever again and I can’t say I blame her.” You smiled proudly as you watched Calum throw his head back and let out the cutest chuckle at your stupid childhood story.

“That’s fucking hilarious. You’re really funny, you know that?” He looked at you in admiration, the most genuine of smiles on his face. Not a hint of the emotion you used to see in his face when he looked at you. One of apparent disdain and resentment. For what, you didn’t know.

You blushed a deep shade of red.

“You really think so?” Your intonation says the questions rhetorical, but you genuinely wondered.

“We hid behind a shower curtain at Kohl’s and won the entire game.” You finish the story up and the entire table erupts in laughter.

“Max, you never said your girlfriend was such a blast, you should bring her around more often,” one of his friends says from across the table. Max laughs a hollow laugh but you don’t think anyone else picks up on it but you. You’ve gotten pretty good at reading him.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” He grabs your hand. It's a compliment so why does it sound like a threat?

The table continues with their conversation and Max’s jaw sets, his grip on your hand tightening,

“Are you trying to make me look bad?” He whispers.

You lean back in your chair, dumbfounded at his ridiculous comment. “What are you talking about, Max?”

“Stop trying to show me up, these are my fucking friends,” he spits. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him, his face tinted red. You glance around the table to see if anyone else is noticing this. They aren’t.

“I’m not trying to show you up. I’m sorry.” You feel so small.

“Just shut up, alright? I just want to spend time with my friends without you ruining everything for me.” With that, he turns away, leaving you to hold back your tears.

You didn’t know it, but from that moment on, you would find it hard to talk in group settings. Or to anyone at all. Because whatever he said, you believed.

And you didn’t want to ruin everything.

“Hey, you alright?” Calum asked, reaching out his hand gingerly to touch your shoulder.

You jumped slightly, partially because you were daydreaming and partially because of the jolt of electricity his touch sent up your arm. “I’m sorry, did I scare you, love?” He laughed and you blushed at the pet name.

“Sorry, sorry, I have no idea why I do that sometimes. I’m so sorry.” You repeatedly apologized, growing increasingly flustered. You shook your head in an attempt to brush away the unpleasant memories that plagued your mind.

“Hey, hey,” he reached out and grazed his fingers against your arm again in reassurance and butterflies practically exploded in your stomach, that gut feeling you couldn't identify earlier growing stronger with every passing moment. “You don’t have to apologize. I was just wondering where you went, is all. I’m curious to know what goes on in that pretty head of yours.” Here comes the millionth blush, you thought as you ducked your head down, a cheesy grin on your face.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

But on a Wednesday in a café I watched it begin again.

You said you never met one girl who had as many James Taylor records as you, but I do. We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy, but I do.

“Do you like music?” He asked, resting his chin in his palm, all his attention on you. Something you weren’t used to. It made a pink flush wash over your cheeks.

You weren’t aware at the time, but Calum found it incredibly endearing.

“I love music.”

“What kind of stuff do you listen to?”

“Honestly, I mean it when I say I’ll listen to anything, but I think I most enjoy alternative. All the different sub categories. Indie, Folk, Punk, Rock, you name it, I’ve probably tried it. I think I like how all-encompassing it is. What about you?” Talking that much made you clam up a little bit, worried you’d seem annoying. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered, though, as his fingers began to drum softly on the wood of the cafe table, his other hand stroking his chin in thought.

“I think I’m the same way. I think all genres have some creative element to offer and what I love most about music is the fact that there are so many different kinds.”

You smiled to yourself, running your finger around the rim of your coffee cup.

“What’re you smiling about?” He teased.

“I just like your passion. That's all.” His expression turned bashful and he gently kicked at your feet under the table.

Calum wondered about you. About how you would freeze up or disregard compliments. About how you remained hesitant to share your interests. About your unwillingness to really let him in. About your passive nature. He wondered about how you flinched at his touch. That hurt his heart. He felt the urge to make sure you felt safe with him.

Most importantly, he wondered who would’ve ever tried to hurt someone as gentle as you.

And we walk down the block to my car and I almost brought him up but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas and I would talk about that and for the first time what's past is past.

“You told him you were from France?” Calum struggled to get the sentence out as he was laughing hysterically.

“Yes,” your hands went to cover your face in embarrassment as you let out a pained groan. “I even faked a French accent and everything but ended up getting a detention anyway.”

Calum continued to cry laughing at your story from your formative years. “You were a little rule breaker back then, huh?”

You laughed and kicked a few pebbles on the sidewalk. The breeze had picked up slightly as a storm threatened the skyline. Involuntarily, a shiver traveled up your spine. “I guess I was. No idea how I turned out like the grandma I am.”

He glanced over at you running your hands up and down your arms to ease the goosebumps and immediately started pulling off his leather jacket. You, of course, protested but he insisted and draped the heavy piece of clothing softly over your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately.

“Thank you,” you said, softly, kicking a few more pebbles on the sidewalk as you made your way to the parking garage.

The jacket smelled expensive and woodsy and you felt yourself cuddling into it, the scent feeling so welcoming already.

Calum felt giddy at the sight. You were blissfully unaware.

A comfortable silence filled the evening air and you felt yourself wanting to talk about him. To tell Calum why you don’t let people in. Why he broke you. Calum chuckled to himself and your train of thought dissipated immediately. His laugh practically made you forget your name.

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Story?”

You smiled warmly. “Of course. I love that movie.” And you felt in that moment, a piece of you slipped away. A piece of you that was never really yours… rather, who you were told to be. That happiness sucking, all consuming, toxic piece of you that left you exhausted and resentful. You decided you didn’t want it anymore. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did, you just didn’t know it.

You were you. And that was enough. More than enough. And it felt so fucking good to start to realize it.

That cool evening on that quiet sidewalk next to that cozy cafe with that smiley brown eyed boy was the night you watched it begin again.

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buckyjustbelikethat · 4 years

Text

The Fiction of Fairytales: Chapter One

Title: The Fiction of Fairytales: Chapter One

Characters: Stucky x Reader

Summary: (a/b/o au that is non-cannon compliant) After being captured and forced to live as Brock Rumlow’s mate for years you are kidnapped by the Avengers. They plan to interrogate you for information on Hydra and Rumlow, but after Steve and Bucky realize they are your true mates, they realize that their kidnapping was more of an unexpected rescue.

Warnings: Mentions of assault, kidnapping, death, and abuse, and strong language.

Word Count: approx. 3000

A/N: Hello lovelies! �� I’m so sorry for the late update. Life has been really crazy both personally and globally. I hope the longer chapter makes up for the wait. Let me know if you want to be tagged or if you have any suggestions or comments!

Previous Chapter

You followed his instructions until they reached the tower. As you were driving you had the urge to cry passing by the buildings and civilization you had been kept from for so long. But the freedom was a placebo, a momentary feeling that reality is plotting to destroy. You knew you were trading one cage for another. One where you were trapped with a murderer and one when you are considered one. Tony Stark fought for good, and he proved that Brock had turned you into something only recognizable as bad.

They arrived at the tower and the moment you placed the car in park your hands were put into high tech handcuffs. Stark’s hand firmly gripped your arm, and though it was not soft, you breathed a sigh of relief when it felt nothing like the force of Brock’s hands. Stark led you to an elevator that seemed detached from the main part of the building. You hoped he didn’t feel the slight tremble of your body. You were used to the danger of being a captive of Brock, but here, you didn’t know what to expect. The floor you arrived at looked like a police station. There were containment rooms and what looked like interrogation rooms. There weren’t many others on the floor, but the guards scattered throughout looked at you in disgust as you entered. You knew that you did not participate in any of the violence hydra had committed, but being looked at as if you did made you feel dirty.

Stark led you into one of the interrogation rooms, and sat you down on an uncomfortable metal chair. He sat opposite of you and placed his feet on the table between you.

“So, are you also a mass murderer or do you just have a fetish for murders in cults?”

His question reminded you once again that he did not save you, you were considered his enemy. You didn’t know the use in arguing with him, you were unsure if they would ever really believe you, and whether the reality of the circumstance would really save you, or if you were considered damned.

“I’ve never killed anyone.” You stated with as much confidence in your voice as you could muster.

“A girl like you bonded with an evil person like that has to get her hands dirty a little once and awhile.”

You met his statement with silence. Staring at the metal table and wishing all of this would be over. When he realized you were not going to respond to his previous statement he placed photos down in front of you.

“Do you recognize any of these men?”

Your body involuntarily shivered as you had looked at the faces of men who had taken part in your torture. You recognized Pierce first, and other Hydra members that had brought you so much trauma.

“Yes.”

“Are they all still alive?”

“I don’t know.” It was your honest answer but it made you feel hopeless. Stark wasn’t going to trust you if you couldn’t tell him anything useful. You hadn’t seen a lot of them in a while, but you would never be informed of those kinds of details.

“So you’re telling me you recognize all these men and we are supposed to believe that you know nothing about hydra?” You didn’t have to look at his face to recognize the skepticism in his words.

As Steve and Bucky were walking into the interrogation room they were hit both with the most intoxicating smell, it smelled like warmth, like vanilla and caramel, and it reminded them of the cookies Steve’s mom used to make them when they were younger. Underneath the overwhelming scent was the unmistakable wave of distress. At first they didn’t understand where the scent could be coming from, or who. It didn’t take long for them to narrow down the fact that there was likely no one else nearby besides the Hydra member, who was also Brock’s omega, that Tony just brought in. They glanced at each other in apprehension before entering. They knew that whatever they were walking into it was not the happy meeting of their omega they had dreamed of, but their instincts were screaming at them to open the door.

Steve couldn’t ignore the protectiveness he was feeling towards Bucky in the moment. Whoever this omega was, they were somehow involved with the same people that had hurt Bucky. He was ignoring the protectiveness he felt towards the omega he had not even met yet, as far as he was concerned they did not deserve his protection, Bucky was his priority right now.

“Stark, Captain America and Sergeant Barnes request access to the room to aid interrogation.”

“Let them in, Friday.” Stark responds with a sigh, obviously frustrated he got nowhere on his own.

As the two men entered the room your heart stopped. Their scents felt like home. The dark haired man smelled like freshly brewed coffee, and the blonde haired man smelled like ginger and licorice. You knew without a question these two beautiful men in front of you were your alphas, your true mates. After your mind cleared from the fog that their presence brought you immediately diverted your eyes, cursing yourself for forgetting your position, if Brock was here he would have punished you for looking at an alpha, even if they are his enemy.

Bucky felt consumed by you. You were more beautiful than he ever could have pictured. He was hyper analyzing every frown, every tremor that your body was making, the way that you diverted your eyes from them. The distress and feeling of hopelessness that surrounded you suffocated him. He just hoped your emotions were not fueled by you missing your mate. Though he didn’t like the alternative. He could not win in this situation, and underneath his calculated demeanor, Steve could also feel the feeling of hopelessness Bucky tried to bury, he could not hide his emotions from his mate.

“We have reason to believe they are trying to capture and reactivate the winter soldier, what are their plans?” Stark spoke completely unaware of what was going on.

“The winter soldier?” You were thankful to be snapped back to the reality of the moment, but his questions once again made you feel useless.

“Me.” The dark haired man replied, or Sergeant Barnes as the AI called him.

Your face fell. Though you didn’t know whether to trust your true mates or not, you knew you had very little chance of gaining their love. Not only did you bond with someone else, but they were someone that obviously hurt one of them, and might be actively planning to do so again. You would be pissed if fate gave you you as well.It seemed fate cursed them and is turned your life into a farce.

“I don’t know.” You sounded like a broken record, and you knew with each repetition there will be dire consequences.

“How convenient, it seems you know nothing.”

“I’m sorry, I promise I’m telling the truth.”

Steve’s composure fell, he no longer could quiet his rage.

“Bullshit! What kind of sick joke is this? We are mated to an omega not only bonded with hydra, but obviously she has blatant allegiance to them as well.”

“Mate?” Stark questioned in shock.

“Steve...” Bucky interjected, still not as convinced as his mate was that you were lying and trying to get him to relax.

“No Buck! You deserve so much better than her, than this. And not only does she not have the decency to wait for her true mates, but she mates with a member of Hydra, and is actively covering for an evil organization.” Steve said, looking into Bucky’s eyes while ignoring Stark’s question.

“She’s your true mate?” Tony tried again.

“No.” Steve said, though the message behind his words was heard loud and clear by everyone in the room. He was rejecting her.

You felt like you couldn’t breath. You knew what was going to happen, but God, you didn’t know how you could live with it. You knew his words were the truth, he didn’t even know the full extent of how broken you were and he could already tell you would never measure up.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to show your honesty behind your words, but your voice was weak. You did not understand why you were mated either, but you knew they were good people, they were alpha’s sure, and there are parts of that that scare you, but you know that if you had met them before ever meeting Brock, they would be everything you had ever dreamed of. Your eyes remained diverted, but you could tell just from his voice, his love for Bucky. You felt like it was ripping you in two, all you had ever wanted was a fraction of that love, but the universe deemed you unworthy, adding validity to all of Brock’s claims.

While Steve was filled with protectiveness, Bucky wasn’t so sure of what to make of everything. The ways your eyes never met their own, the pain and fear he could detect though you tried to hide it, and the apology only filled him with questions. Your behavior reminded him of his own when he first got out of Hydra, part of him hoped this wasn’t the case. He would rather be mated to evil, than to be mated to someone that had to withstand the kind of pain he had to.

“What is it exactly you are sorry for?” Bucky asks, his voice still cool, but not laced with the anger Steve’s words were entangled with.

“For being mated with someone else…” you cut yourself off there, not sure if you should list all the reasons why you were sorry you ended up their mate. “And for not being able to help you all with the information you want.”

“Not being able to and not willing to are two different things.” He replied.

“I.. I know. I promise you if I knew I would help you. I understand you don’t like me or trust me. I would feel the same considering who Brock is, but please believe that more than anyone, I don’t want him to be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

“Then how the hell can you justify being with him? For not waiting for your true mates, for him?” Steve almost yells as he tries to keep his cool. He was hurt but he was masking it with anger. Bucky reaches out his hand and lays it on Steve’s shoulder, he gives him a look that pleads for his silence.

Bucky could see the tears pooling in your eyes as you fought them away, and his fear that his suspicions might be true was nagging at his mind.

“How long have you been with Brock?”

This was something that you had fought over the years to know the answer to. You weren’t sure of time when he first took you, the days blended together, but once he started giving you more freedom you decided to keep track of how long it had been.

“Eight years.” you said.

“Okay.” Bucky said, his voice calming. “We have no records of you before Hydra, so can you tell us how old you are?”

“25.” Your voice was still breathy and quiet, unsure his intentions behind his questions.

The fear nagging at Bucky became more pronounced when he learned that you weren’t even of age when you got together.

“How did you meet?”

He watched you as your body froze, panic entered your eyes and your breath became shorter. As you shrunk into your chair you winced at the metal pushing against your bruised body.

Steve started to sense the reasoning behind Bucky’s questions, especially when he saw your reaction. Things started to make sense to Tony too, especially when knowing how little you went out, and the way you looked for the cameras. He suspected you feared him and tried to find safety in knowing that Brock could see you in the surveillance footage, but now he was starting to think your fear was more of the cameras than him.

You didn’t know what to do, he asked about one of the worst days of your life, and you feared they would be disgusted by you if he understood. You saw Bucky move closer to you in an attempt to calm you down, his alpha instincts telling him to soothe the anxiety of his omega. But the closer he got to you the more you shrunk away from him. Trying to hide within the cold metal of your chair, as your pain became more pronounced.

“Hey, it’s okay, we want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us.”

His words calmed you and you cursed that he was able to have an effect on you. He knelt down beside your chair, trying to get a better view of your eyes, despite you doing everything in your power to hide your face behind your hair. You decided to rip the bandaid off, maybe if they understood then they would realize you were no use to them, and then maybe you could let you die on your own terms. You knew there was no other alternative. Brock would always find you, and you had no way of defending yourself, and you would not let yourself become a burden to them as an unwanted mate. You wouldn’t force them to deal with that, it would be wrong of you.

“He killed my parents and he was supposed to kill me too, but he took me as his mate instead.”

“He forced you to bond with him?” He was trying to suppress the rage overwhelming his body, he did not want to scare you away. Steve was still at a distance, now battling his own guilt from what he said to you.

“Yes, I promise, I meant nothing to him, I was just a body, everyone in Hydra viewed me the same. I promise they never discussed any information with me around, and if they did I would tell you, please believe me.” You spoke through your own tears.

“We believe you.” Tony spoke, laced with the same guilt Steve feels.

“Thank you... But they will find me, and what they will do to me is worse than death, I can’t go back, and I won’t be a burden to you, you both deserve to find an omega who is good enough. So please, I’m begging you to kill me.”

Steve and Bucky both started to growl. Unhappy with the words they are hearing from their omega.

“No!” Steve and Bucky both blurted out.

Your whole body was shaking, and it got worse knowing they wouldn’t allow you the kindness of a quick death. “Please, I know you don’t owe me anything but please. I can’t go back. Please.”

Bucky’s hand reached out to calm you, but he immediately realized it was a bad idea when you flinched away. Your face contorted in pain once again and Steve and Bucky wished more than anything that they could fix everything for you right then and there, no matter the cost. Bucky resigned his hand to himself, but Steve came up and knelt beside Bucky.

“No one is going to hurt you again. I promise you. We will protect you sweetheart. I’m so sorry we thought you were Hydra.” Steve spoke to you. His voice soft, and laced with pain for his mate.

“We are your Alpha’s and we will protect you.” Bucky said firmly, assuring you that they weren’t going anywhere despite what Steve had said earlier.

You calmed yourself enough to reply to their assertions.

“You don’t have to protect me,” you wiped your tears from your face with your still handcuffed hands. “I’ll be fine. Please, like you said earlier, you deserve better, and I understand that.”

“No, no. That is not true.” Steve said distressed at what his omega was saying to him.

“Honey, I was a captive of Hydra for years, they made me do horrible things, I understand what they are capable of, but that is not a reflection on you. Did you want to be there?”

“No.” You sniffled.

“Do you agree with the horrible things that they do?”

“No!” You stated, trying to convince them.

“Then there is nothing that could change our mind.”

You still felt unconvinced but Steve didn’t give you much time to reject what Bucky said.

“Are you hurt?” Steve asked, assessing as much of your body as he could.

You nodded. “I’ll be fine though, Brock wasn’t happy with me this morning.”

You could see Bucky and Steve’s body both tense up at your words.

“What happened?”

“It was my fault, I looked up at him.”

Both men started growling again, even Tony joined in already becoming protective over his teammates and friends’ omega.

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” Bucky spoke to you.

“But I’m an omega.. and I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bucky wished he reached out and guided your chin up so you could look him in his eyes, but he was afraid of scaring you even more.

“Doesn’t matter if you are an omega, doll. You are not lesser than other people, especially not him.” Bucky said his voice caring.

“Can we take you to the medical wing to get you checked out?” Steve asked.

“S-sure.” You replied, still not knowing if you could trust them and their words, but the fantasy of their words of love was too enticing. You decided that even if this didn’t last, it was worth it to escape, even for just a moment, in fiction.

Next Chapter

Tags (open): @snakesonastarship @thanossucks @yomama-umbridge @grandluminaryearthquake @laughsandlivia @bloo-moon-freak @this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru @sergeantrosabellaswan

#stucky x reader #alpha stucky x reader #stucky #alpha bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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awhitehead17 · 3 years

Text

Guardian Angel In Disguise

Alternate Universe, Guardian Angel AU, TimKon, Angel Kon, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn.

Summary: With the threats of being removed as Tim’s Guardian Angel, Kon has one final chance to redeem himself worthy of being Tim’s protector.

Taking things to the next level, Kon becomes human to physically be by Tim’s side in hopes he can protect him more so than before. However because Tim is a vigilante Kon’s job is more difficult as Tim constantly puts himself at risk, he’s always running headfirst into danger and is always willing to sacrifice his life for others.

A/N: This story is follow up to "It's my job to protect you." A lot of people showed interest in wanting to see that story developed further so this is the result of that!

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Once a human vessel had been created for him, Kon accepted it graciously. After adjusting to being in a physical form for the first time, Kal sent him down to Earth to start his self-proclaimed mission of looking after his human.

Kal sent him to an apartment, stating that’s where he’ll be based for the duration of the mission, it’s also where he’ll keep in contact with the superiors by keeping them updated with regular check-ins. Kal also mentioned that there will be a briefing document waiting for him in the apartment once he arrives, Kon is to read the said document so he can gain further understanding of the details of his mission and to get an idea of what capabilities his vessel has.

As crazy as it sounds Kon needs to learn how to be “human”. Having a human vessel is only a minor part of the job, it simply allows him to look like one. It’ll be down to him to act and blend in with the human population.

Kon already has an idea on how to act human, he’s been around them long enough to pick up their various of mannerisms, how some of them speak and how they act towards one another. He’s been around them enough to know what most agree with and what they don’t, what they class as right and wrong. He’s got the general idea and now it’s about putting that knowledge into practice.

As a Guardian Angel (GA) it’s Kon’s job to protect his assigned human to the best of his abilities. He has to make sure his human is getting through their life as safe as possible and is making the most of it.

Most of the human population are assigned a Guardian Angel, not everyone gets one but most do. A Guardian Angel is assigned to a human from their 10th birthday and the angel stays with them until they reach early adulthood of the age of 25. Only with special circumstances does the angel stay with their human after they turn 25.

Depending on the rank of the Guardian Angel depends on how many humans they are assigned to at a time. Lower rank GA’s get assigned one human at the time while higher ranked GA’s are assigned multiple at a time.

Humans do not know Guardian Angels exist. Some believe in them of course, where human religion comes into play and where they may prey and give offerings to the angels, but the angels never give physical evidence to the fact that they do exist in the world. They let the humans believe what they want. On the other hand some humans are just completely oblivious to their presence altogether.

Kon’s mission starts from the very moment he arrives at the apartment set up for him. He’s stationed in the city of San Francisco as that’s where his human happens to be frequenting the most recently. It’s a reasonable sized apartment with many different rooms for various of functions, it’s clean and tidy, rather bare as it has no personal touches to it and it’s hidden away in the city, providing perfect privacy as its easily blended in with all the other apartments around the block.

He takes a moment to get familiar with his surroundings, learning what room is where and where certain things can be found. Of course everything inside the apartment is to accommodate a human, Kon won’t need a majority of this stuff because of what he is. Unlike humans, Kon doesn’t need to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom. Everything here is just for show.

When he enters the living room he finds the briefing document lying there on the coffee table unopened and waiting to be read. Next to the document is a human device, Kon believes it’s called a mobile phone. He recognises it of course, he always sees the humans carry one around with them, each one if different and comes in different colours. His own human has one himself, though he often changes it every couple of months.

Settling down on the sofa, Kon picks up the document. He doesn’t necessarily want to read it but he knows he has too, it’s too important to ignore. The document contains information about his mission and details about his vessel.

Kon is in a peculiar situation. Normally GA’s don’t have human vessels, they are free spirits with no physical ties to Earth and its only in rare and special occasions where they may take up a human vessel and have a presence on Earth.

The reason Kon has a vessel is because he’s on a thin line with his superiors as he’s been failing his job of protecting his assigned human. His human has been hurt multiple times in the last few months and with how frequent his injuries have been Kon’s superiors have taken notice. In result of that his main superior, Kal-El, had threatened to remove Kon as his assigned human’s GA. Not agreeing with the idea, Kon retaliated, exclaiming that he would have better chance of keeping his human safe if he were physically with him, but because of the rules that isn’t allowed. Kal considered the situation and in the end made a deal with Kon.

Kon is to spend 12 weeks on Earth to keep his human from being drastically injured or killed. If Kon manages to keep his human safe in that time then he will be kept as his Guardian Angel, however if something happens in that time then Kon fails and he loses his position as his human’s GA.

So all in all, his mission for the next 12 weeks is to keep his human safe from harm.

One would think that’s relatively easy right? Well wrong. Because Kon isn’t assigned an ordinary human, no, he’s assigned a human who works as something called a vigilante. His human, Timothy – Tim – Drake is known as the vigilante Robin. As much as he admires his human it frustrates him to no ends. Without meaning too this asshole makes Kon’s job so much harder than it needs to be because he constantly puts himself in danger. He’s always running headfirst into danger and is always willing to sacrifice his life for others.

Kon knows he can’t stop Tim from doing his job. At the end of the day Kon has seen him grow into the role he has now, he’s seen how hard his human has worked for it and despite the injures he receives Tim is brilliant at what he does and Kon doesn’t particularly want to stop him from doing it. He just wants to make sure Tim is as safe as he can be while doing it.

Kon’s best bet is to join his human on his crusade, to get close to him and offer physical protection and watch his back that way. What he needs to work out now is how he’s going to get close to Tim.

As a vigilante Tim is naturally more suspicious, he’s very paranoid of things, is well guarded and cautious. His life outside of vigilantism is just as hardcore, he’s the adopted son of the famous Bruce Wayne, that alone makes Tim a target for more reasons than one. The Wayne family is very close and very private.

If Kon has any hope in getting close to Tim he feels like trying to reach out to Tim as Robin would be the best approach. Perhaps he could form a working relationship with his human and make connections with his team, the Teen Titans.

As Kon thinks through his tactics he continues reading through the document seeing what else it says. It makes it very clear that Kon cannot give away what he is and the real reason why he’s there. If Kon fails to hide this then he also fails the mission and will be removed as Tim's GA. This rule certainly makes his mission harder but Kon understands it.

Kon reaches the section about his vessel in the document. He studies the section with a keen interest. It’s important he understands his vessel early on, he’s never had a physical form before so there are things he needs to learn and be mindful of.

Thankfully when Kal made this vessel he allowed Kon to keep some of his powers and according to the document he even has some additional ones. Kon has the power of flight, telekinesis, he’s got super strength, super speed and super hearing, he’s got x-ray vision, heat vision and apparently he’s invulnerable.

That all sounds great, it makes him sound almost unstoppable, but the document states he does have a weakness. If he's ever exposed to something called kryptonite, then Kon will become weak, he’ll get nauseous if he’s near it and if he’s exposed to it for too long then he could even pass out from pain. Kon’s never heard of kryptonite but he really hopes he never crosses paths with it.

As well as kryptonite, Kon can exhaust his vessel if he uses too much power. He needs to rest regularly, not necessarily sleep, but rest and recuperate when he can. That being said the document brings up that he won’t need to eat, sleep or go to the bathroom, these being his GA abilities that’s transferred over to the vessel. Kon already knew this but it is good to see it confirmed. On the other hand, it also mentions that he will have to pretend to do these things to keep up the façade of being a human. Apparently if he does end up eating anything it won’t actually hurt him in anyway.

Kon reaches the end of the document and chucks it back down onto the coffee table. He sighs and leans back into the sofa thinking about what he needs to do.

He has 12 weeks to make sure Tim stays safe. At the moment he knows his human is currently laid up on an infirmary bed suffering from a few injuries from a recent mission that went sideways. After all that’s what’s gotten Kon into this situation to begin with. Tim won’t be leaving the medical bay in that Tower for another couple of days and he won’t be going out on any missions for a good three weeks, that at least gives Kon some time to plan and come up with something for when Tim does go back out into the field. Realistically Tim shouldn’t be doing any vigilante work for a good six to eight weeks but Kon knows how stubborn Tim can be.

Kon needs to come up with a way for how he's going to get close to Tim. His human will be suspicious of him at first and Kon needs to show him that he's a friendly face with no ulterior motives, even though that’s exactly what he is.

Kon sighs and runs his hands over his face. This is so frustrating! He really didn’t think this through fully when Kal presented the opportunity of having a vessel, now he's stuck here with no clue on how to proceed with his mission and it’s only just started!

A high pitched noise gets his attention. He pulls his hands away from his face and frowns trying to work out what it was. Was he hearing things or did that sound actually happen? When it happens a second time Kon jumps off his sofa and starts searching the apartment for the source of the noise, at least that is until movement outside the window gets his attention.

Kon moves over to the living room window and looks out of it. At first all he sees is the busy streets of the city and the sunshine of the day. Just as he’s about to shake it off as his imagination a blur passes his window. Kon blinks and looks down the street trying to focus on what it had been. It’s too fast for the human eye to notice it but when he focuses his attention on it, using his abilities, he finds that it’s a girl flying through the air heading downtown. Kon blinks again when he sees another blur race through the streets on the ground, this time it being someone running at high speeds.

It takes a moment but he soon realises that they are members of the Titan’s. He recognises them as part of Tim’s team!

Now his attention is on the city he finally notices how there seems to be some sort of battle happening. Some kind of creatures were coming out of magical swirls that appear randomly down on the streets below. The high pitched noises he had heard were coming from humans on the street who were running away from the strange creatures that kept appearing. Kon’s never seen anything like that before and sure enough he’s seen some weird things in his time and especially recently since he’s been Tim’s GA.

Downtown he sees the Titan’s tackling the creatures as they jump out of the glowing portals, they knock them down before they could make it further into the city but they kept coming, seeming to never stop.

Kon takes a deep breath. Well when the opportunity presents itself, he has to go after it right? This could be his way into getting close to Tim. He could fight alongside the Titan’s, gain their trust, introduce himself as someone new and go from there? He’s got the powers to do it so he may as well go for it.

With that in mind Kon rushes to the front door of his apartment and starts making his way downtown to join the battle. He’ll just have to work out everything else along the way and hope for the best.

#Guardian Angel AU #alternate universe #timkon #Tim Drake #Kon-El #angel kon #developing relationship #slow burn #Sequel #do people want this published on tumblr as well as archive?#I may only upload to archive for this one #let me know what you think!#fanfiction

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader

Masterlist Protective Service Masterlist

Chapter 8 Abush

After the night of the gala, things had been frigid and eerily silent; John hadn’t added anything and Y/n made no attempt to smoothen things over between them. Instead, they’d resigned themselves to only sharing a room when absolutely necessary, which meant that from the minute they got in on evenings, John would wordlessly retreat to his room, not to be seen until the next morning when they were ready to leave again. It was hard, but they were both exceptional at pretending that the tense silence didn’t bother them. Y/n had thrown herself into work, gratefully occupied with putting things in place for her new agreement with Balinksi, while Donavan provided welcome distractions during down time. Likewise, John had busied himself by setting up a small book binding station in his large bedroom; situating a desk near the glass wall facing the opposing buildings and peppering the top with his materials. It was a good way to occupy himself and John liked that it usually took up so much concentration that he couldn’t completely focus on thoughts of Y/n. Going on two weeks had passed and though they were hurting on the inside, both John and Y/n were equally stubborn and couldn’t be broken easily.

That night was no different to any other Thursday; Y/n had stayed late just so she could leave early the next Friday and John had stationed himself outside of her door while she worked. Donavan had left early, though Y/n hadn’t bothered with nosing around for a reason; she trusted him enough. It was past one am when she’d finally called it quits for the night, her eyes heavy and limbs weighed down with tire as she dragged herself down the metal steps. At that point, Y/n was pretty sure she could fall asleep standing up without much effort.

The chill was evident when they finally broke out of the warehouse, though from the minute they stepped onto the pathway to the car something felt different. John was the one to stop Y/n by outstretching his arm, his free hand landing on the gun in his belt holster as his eyes scanned the darkened property. “You should-”

The first bang, or rather, the first three, hand them both scrambling for cover at the side of the car. From that vantage point, it was easy to see that just moments prior, someone had yanked the passenger’s door open and shot Y/n’s driver. The older man’s head had been splattered against the glass and Y/n could only hope that she wouldn’t end up like that by the end of the night. When the second slew of bullets rained down on the car, their offenders seemed much closer and Y/n could easily identify the panic that had started raising in her chest. “We need to get you inside,” John gritted, trying to peer through the tinted windows to assess their possibly perilous predicament, knowing that the closer they got, the worse things would get. And they were definitely getting closer.

“I’m not leaving,” she gritted, “I can help you, just-”

Shaking his head, John raised abruptly, firing a couple shots, mortally wounding at least one of the shooters. “No, its too dangerous,” John hissed, a bullet missing head by just a hair as he crouched next to Y/n to reload. “You need to get in there and let me do my job.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Y/n argued, “There’s like six of them, you need help and I’m a good shot.”

“You’re also the target. Now stop arguing with me.” For only the briefest moment, John put his gun down, just to shrug off his jacket and offer it to Y/n, “Put this on, try to cover your head,” he breathed heavily, already trying to get the clothing on Y/n, “You have your gun, right?” She nodded vigorously, fury evident in her eyes “And its loaded?” Y/n nodded again, “Good, get your keys and leave your bag under there,” he gestured to beneath the car as he hurriedly explained, “Stay low-”

“I can’t let you do this on your own,” Y/n’s breaths were ragged and her heart felt right about ready to burst out of her chest, though the last thing she was about to admit was fear. She was no coward, and she certainly wasn’t one to back down from a fight. “It’s too far anyway, we should just get in the car and-”

“We leave and they’ll follow us,” cutting her off, John kept cool under the pressure and unafraid of the danger they were caught in and reflecting what Y/n hoped she’d been portraying. He was focused and goal oriented; nothing was going to stop him from getting Y/n out of there alive. “Listen to me; you have your keys and your, gun stay low until you make it to the door, the jacket will protect you when they shoot, but you have to move quickly. Cover your head and lock the door when you get inside,” he emphasized.

“John-”

“Go,” in an instant, John was shoving her to action, standing, unprotected and completely vulnerable as he fired another round; disarming one and taking down another. There were only three more to go. A slight turn of his head had confirmed that Y/n had just started fumbling with the lock and as much as John wanted to go over to help her, he knew that it was best for him to stand his ground where he stood. The car could still shield him, and seeing as he was no longer afforded the protection of his tactical blazer, he needed all the cover he could get.

“She’s getting away!” The man’s accent was thick and definitely Irish. That was the least of John’s concern at the moment though, and from the second the hulking frame made a dash to move around the car to get to Y/n, John got him in the leg, using the last two bullets in his cartridge to end the man’s life, stooping to hastily reload as shots continued to fly, even as Y/n shut the front doors of the building.

“You can’t hide forever you little bitch!” Even as another Irish man spat the words, John stood again, sending a shot between his eyes before aiming two more at his chest. After that, it wasn’t long before it was one against two. He could take them, John knew he could, he’d just need to figure out the logistics first, finding an angle where he could get at both of them.

Slowly, alternating between shooting and ducking down, John stayed close to the doors, watching as his remaining opponents cautiously moved around the car. At some point though, probably sensing his tire, one of them lunged at him, starting a more physical combat. Thankfully, John was versed there too, easily besting the burly man.

It was almost over and though John’s muscles were burning with exertion, his bruises throbbed with pain and there was blood from a gash in his head clouding his vision. He pushed himself into a standing position, grabbing his gun in the process, only to find that it was empty and that he’d exhausted his supply of bullets. “Just give up Wick,” the remaining man dropped the arm holding his gun to the side, probably thinking that John would be ready to surrender, “You’re too old to win this fight.”

“Yeah?” Turning his head to the side, John spat the blood that had started tainting his tongue, “Put that gun away and let's find out, cause you're not leaving here with her.”

“Your loyalty is going to get killed,” he stuffed his gun into his belt, approaching John and readying his fists for a fight, not hesitating to take the first swing, which he inevitably missed, “Don’t worry, you’re luck’s about to run out.”

What ensued was a trading of brutal punches, elbows directed at varying soft spots and strained kicks that took either men to the ground once or twice. The fight was dirty, and they weren’t back at the Ruska Roma where their aim wasn’t to kill; they were in a parking lot fighting over someone’s life. But John wasn’t going to let some Irish scum kill his charge.

At some point, John’s opponent reached for his gun again and when it was in hand, they fought over that too, both struggling to control the aim. With someone’s finger on the trigger, a shot was fired towards the night sky, though, it wasn’t long before John had barrel wedged against the man’s stomach, he was just about to squeeze the trigger again when his Irish counterpart kneed him in the abdomen taking control for a minute. It hadn’t been a handful of seconds later when he could feel the metal mouth pressed against his chest, and that was when John knew his options were truly limited. He was going to get shot, the only thing he had some semblance of control over was where. Adamant on living, John grabbed the man’s hands, dragging them downwards to the left side of his stomach and taking the opportunity to try to shove him away, just as the loud sound threatened to deafen them both.

It was excruciating and the pain near blinded him, eliciting a loud grunt in consequence as the little metal object ripped through his flesh, thankfully not making it through the other side. “Fuck!” John growled, pain radiating through his entire abdomen. But still he persisted, even if albeit, a little slower. Still, his strength was fueled by insurmountable will and with blood soaking his shirt, his breathing labored and the blood loss leaving him staggering and grappling to stay in control of his consciousness.

The task had been a trying one, though soon John wrestled the gun of the younger man’s hand, catching him in the chest, surly wreaking havoc on a lung. Though, even if he’d fallen and John’s knees had buckled soon after, he knew he couldn’t trust it to be enough. But there weren’t anymore bullets in the gun and his eyes were growing increasingly heavier. That was it, he couldn’t fight anymore, at least, not that night and the hope that Y/n could hold her own was the only thing that gave him the thinnest thread of ease.

Otherwise, he would have failed her.

And if John failed her, he didn’t think he’d want to wake up anyway.

Y/n hadn't made it too far; she wasn’t willing to leave anything up to chance. So instead, she’d stayed at the front, with her back pressed to the locked door, holding her breath just so she wouldn’t be hampered from hearing anything going on outside. Every time she heard a shot, Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, and even if she wasn’t crying, her eyes stung. The last time she’d been that scared was the night she’d found her father bleeding out. She hadn’t been afraid for herself, she was afraid of losing him. But that night, Y/n couldn’t tell; It all seemed to be going so fast and, in the end she’d waited until an eerie silence had descended upon the entire compound before creeping out once again.

Her gun, the one she’d been gifted so long ago, was clutched in one hand, while the other kept John’s jacket closed at the front. The clothing had swallowed her up, falling all the way down to her thighs, while the arms seemed a little more than double what she’d usually wore. Y/n vaguely thought that she must have looked the part of a child in John’s coat, and really, the way she felt could have been likened to the way a child felt; helpless and utterly afraid of what laid in wait the vast darkness.

From the minute she stepped out, the metallic smell of fresh blood mixing with gunpowder assaulted her senses and in the low light, Y/n could spot the silhouettes of dead bodies. Almost everyone seemed accounted for; all except two; one of the shooters and John. Her finger was ready on the trigger, and even in the most dire of circumstances, her aim was faultless, still undertones of unsung fear lurked in the pit of her belly. Y/n walked, trying not to make any sudden noises to draw attention to herself lest someone be waiting, she moved around the car, barely noticing that the only signs of a gun exchange on the vehicle was scratched paint. As she finally reached the other side, Y/n’s breath hitched upon realizing that there hadn’t been silence after all, just soft and laborious breaths as two badly beaten men hung on to life, one conscious, the other not so much.

“Shit,” she hissed, thinking the worst as she ran over to John’s side, looking for the source of bleeding, eventually pressing her hand over a wound beneath his ribs. Her common sense told her that she needed to stop the bleeding, while her will to survive preached that she needed to finish the last of her attackers off. With her mind going a mile a minute, Y/n decided that she had to do both.

Scrambling to stand, Y/n lined up two shots with steady hands in quick succession; one in the middle of his chest and another in his head, “Fucking Irish,” she grumbled, watching the last bits of life drain from his form, only broken out of the trance by a soft groan from near by. “John?” Immediately, her attention all went to one place; him. “John,” Y/n whispered again, lifting his head onto her lap and pressing down on his wound again, “Hey,” she cradled his head with her free hand, “You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just give me some time and you’re gonna be okay.”

She had to get him out of there, to the Continental, where he could see a doctor and recuperate safely. “Alright,” Y/n whispered, mostly to herself, before standing again and hurriedly going to pull the back door of the car open. Next was actually getting him in. It was a trying feat; John was considerably heavier than anything she’d ever lifted and the fact that he was largely unconscious almost made him deadweight. She eventually succumbed to dragging his body by hooking her arms under his shoulders, wincing every time she almost dropped him. The backwards trek to the car felt long and by the time Y/n had, by some miracle, gotten John into the car, her lungs burned, she was warm despite the cool spring air and her arms hurt. But there was no time for breaks.

Almost tripping and slipping in the pools of blood, Y/n jogged around to the other side, grabbing her bag up from off the ground before opening the front door, pulling her dead driver out of the seat and then taking his place behind the wheel. After that, it took a minute of fumbling around before she found the keys and got the engine started, gabbing up her cell and seeking out a familiar number as she drove. Y/n was recklessly turning out into the street when he finally picked up, “Vila, what’s up? It’s late.”

It was late, past three am according to her phone, yet Donavan didn’t sound like he’d been asleep, “I need you to come down to the clubhouse, I’m leaving now, but its a mess. You need to get down here, make a dinner reservation-”

“What?” She could hear his surprise, the twinge of fear that was laced with his words, fear for her life, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” another hastily shifting of the wheel took them to the main road and Y/n’s foot was heavy on the gas as she thanked her lucky stars that the streets were clear, leaving her to whistle past everything in sight, “John’s not. We were ambushed by the Irish,” on the other end, Y/n could hear Donavan swear under his breath, “He dealt with them, but he got shot. I’m taking him to the Continental-”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” he cut her off again but Y/n didn’t bother to waste time listening.

“No,” firmly, pushed forward, adrenaline driving her to take the car to its limits. She’d driven fast, but never that fast, though, it didn’t seem near fast enough. One hundred miles per hour or one eighty something; John was still bleeding out and every second more was a second that she came closer to losing him. Y/n couldn’t lose him, not when there was so much she hadn’t said. “No, you need to get to the factory, deal with that shit,” finally the heart of the city came into view and Y/n had already started working out a map of the shortest route to the hotel in her head, “When its done, call me and I’ll tell you what to do next. Got it?”

He hesitated, but eventually submitted, “Got it. I’ll-”

Before he could finish, Y/n had hung up, wasting no time before pulling up Winston’s number, not caring if she woke him up, just wanting him to get the doctor ready for John. Thankfully, that call turned out to be much shorter and by the time Y/n was coming to a screeching halt in front of the unassuming building, Charon, along with a few other workers and a doctor were there to help her.

It had felt like a day and change, but really, it had barely been just over two and a half hours. The clarity of dawn had just started to clear the night sky and the small room was crowded with a few familiar faces. Winston and Charon had stayed nearer to the bed as the doctor worked slowly, making sure to check for any readily unidentifiable injuries, while Y/n kept her distance, leaning on the wall near the window, staring blankly at the streets below. She was too caught in her web of thoughts to do much else. There was just so much going in her head;

Why would the Irish just come after her out of the blue?

Was it because of the deal she’d made with Balinski? Old grudges? Something else entirely?

There was something off about the attack too. There were too little of them, and they’d waited until she was outside instead of coming through the door, where they might have better accomplished the element of surprise. It felt too random, disorganized and completely different from the way they’d taken out her parents. There was no premeditation, no message or meaning. Maybe she’d been reading too much into things, but Y/n could have sworn that there was just something about them waiting outside to just take a chance at shooting at her that didn’t seem like their style.

Then, there was John. Seeing him on the cold ground like that, covered in blood and almost totally unresponsive had scared Y/n, making her realize that the fright she’d felt while hiding wasn’t a fear she’d had of being caught, it was the fear of losing him. Losing him when he still thought she didn’t care, losing him when she’d been too stubborn to tell him that he was the first person she’d cared about that deeply but above all, simply losing him. It was hard to admit at first, but as she’d held him there in the parking lot, Y/n had decided; upon the next opportunity, she’d tell him everything she’d been holding onto.

*******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

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