#and the fucking sorrows and distance of all kinds start over again

[the-mighty-nappa]

Oh boy it's time time of the year again where due to [redacted] I rethink my entire fucking [redacted] and realize there is no proper outcome in this situation.

#tw vent #like i'm nocturnal by nature and I just can NOT do a daytime schedule #but it's been [redacted] #and honestly I don't know what to do about it or how to go about talking to her about it #I'm on an uncharted island and have no clue what the fuck to do #because even if I fix my sleep schedule it's only a few weeks until it goes right back to it's normal and nocturnal state #and the fucking sorrows and distance of all kinds start over again #in a never ending dharmic cycle that one can not break free from without true levels of suffering #I don't know what the fuck to do and all I know is sadness and suffering delight #vent post #i'd like to cry but even after being on E for a while that's still nearly impossible

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 11: Home not so sweet home

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Moldy Voldy [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

The sun is shining brightly with not a cloud in the sky. A soft breeze sways the leaves on the trees which tower over the manor. And despite that sunny and happy weather outside, you feel dreaded entering the house.

The pointed roofs and gothic architecture never looked so menacing as now. The perfectly manicured lawn looks like it has thorns and skulls as flowers while the white peacock in the distance looks like an omen of death.

Both you and your cousin stand at the end of the long driveway, your luggage floating towards the front door. Aunt Cissy motions for the two of you to hurry up. 

Glancing at each other, Draco gives your wrist a reassuring squeeze before marching up the gravel path. You linger for a while longer until you can't.

It's quiet when you enter the manor. More than usual. All sounds, even those from outside, seem to have disappeared. No creaking of the house, ticking of clocks, nothing.

Your aunt turns to you, a sorrowful look on her face. "The Dark Lord is expecting you in the library."

You want to shake your head. Scream, cry, yell that you don't want to see him. You're scared. So fucking scared to meet him. But, you don't have a choice.

With a meek nod, you turn on your heels and make your way towards the library. You ignore Draco's shaken look as his mother hugs him and leads him to the other side of the house.

The floorboards under your feet creak as you stand in front of the double doors of the library. You raise your fist but before your knuckles make contact with the wood, the doors swing open.

He stands in front of the large windows that oversee a part of the gardens, his back turned to the door and his hands are clasped behind his back. He is almost as pale as a sheet, blue veins running over his bald head.

When he turns around, you have to bite back the gasp of horror you want to let out. His face can only be described as snake-like. Two slits are where a nose should be and icy blue eyes set in a too-pale face. 

He is nothing as you imagined. You once or twice have searched up the name Riddle in the school records to look at the picture of all the prefects. At that time, Tom Marvolo Riddle was a handsome seventh-year boy. Dark hair, high cheekbones, and a proud look on his face.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is obviously gone and in his place is Lord Voldemort.

You don't know whether to bow or nod, so you look at the ground once he catches you study him.

"My Heir." His voice is breathy, almost whisper-like. He opens his arms, "come here."

Your feet move with a mind of their own. You scale the size of the room and stop in front of the imposing figure. He wraps his arms lofty around you. A chill spreads through your body as a cold hand presses against your back.

Taking a step back, you try to even your breathing. "My Lord." The title comes out in a whisper. You're utterly terrified of what this man will do, will say.

He tsks disapprovingly. "When we are in company of each other, you may call me Father, my Heir."

"Yes... Father."

Voldemort nods approvingly. He studies you once again, his icy eyes trailing every inch of your face and hair. "I've been told you are sorted into Slytherin. Naturally."

You nod. "Yes, Father." You don't know what else to say. But it seems like he is expecting more. "My studies are going well. I am staying out of trouble and keep with our own kind."

It's the safe answer, one you know satisfies him. And it does. He dismisses you with a wave of his hand and you don't know how quickly you have to get out of the library. 

When you enter your bedroom, Draco is already sitting on your bed, an anxious look on his face. "Is it really him?", he asks in a whisper and you nod.

You go sit down next to your cousin. The two of you sit in silence for a while, until Draco opens his mouth. "How is he?"

"Terrifying", you admit. "You feel his power when you are in the room with him."

"Mother says he can read minds."

You look at him with wide eyes. That can't be true... right? It means that even our thoughts aren't safe.

"Well... Then we have to watch out for what we think."

Draco nods and you sit in silence once again. You lean over and lay your head on his shoulder. Draco has never been a big fan of being touched — it may come from being barely touched as a child by his parents — but for you, he makes an exception. 

"Everything is going to change from now on, isn't it?"

He hums sadly. "I'm afraid so."

You spend the rest of the day cooped up in your room, unpacking your school trunk and dusting your room. Even though Aunt Cissy makes the house elves clean your room regularly, it's always nice to do a once-over.

Around dinner time is a knock on your door and you're being called to dinner. Nervously, you make your way towards the formal dining room. It's tradition to eat there when you and Draco have returned from your year at Hogwarts.

Entering the room, you see your aunt and uncle — both looking rather unwell — and your cousin sitting at one end of the table and Voldemort sitting at the head on the other side. 

"My Lord", you greet your father with a polite nod. Unsure of where to sit, you move to sit next to Draco. But the chair next to Voldemort gets pushed back by magic and you get the hint.

With uncertain steps, you go and sit to him. Draco and you make eye contact but remain silent. 

The majority of dinner is spent in silence. You do not dare to speak out loud and it seems like the Dark Lord likes the tense silence his presence brings. It's only when the desert is brought that he speaks.

"It seems you are very popular at school, my Heir. Not a full day at home and you already received a letter." Voldemort holds up a wax-sealed envelope.

He watches how you take it and break the seal. Unfolding the envelope, you start to read. It's a rather short letter really.

Do you want to hang out sometime? It's what friends do, you know. We could meet up in two weeks. That's just enough time to miss me.

— Theo

You close your eyes. Stupid stupid boy Theodore Nott. You've hoped to keep him safe from your father a while longer, at least until the end of the summer break or Christmas or whatever. But as Voldemort snatches the letter out of your hands and reads it over, one of his non-existent eyebrows arches up.

"Theo? Who is this Theo?"

You look down at the pie in front of you. "Theodore Nott, my Lord. We've ehrm... We've-" You look for help from your aunt, but her gaze is trained on the table. "We've been introduced last summer and started hanging out this year."

Voldemort looks over at your uncle. "Is this true, Lucius?" The name of your uncle is almost a hiss.

Uncle Lucius gulps before shakily raising his gaze. "Ye-yes, my Lord. We thought the you-young Nott boy would be an excellent match... f-for your daughter... my Lord."

Voldemort hums, dropping the letter next to your plate. "Very well." And nothing more is said about Theodore or the rest of the dinner.

Once you are excused, you rush towards your bedroom to write Theo back. But when you swing open your door, you almost shriek.

A three-metre snake lays on your bed, eyes trained on you. You've heard whisper all day long, but you just chalked it up to Voldemort residing in the manor.

Carefully stepping into the room, you know exactly who this is. Clearing your throat, you open your mouth. "Hello, Nagini", you say in the strange whispers and hisses of Parsletongue.

"Hello, my Heir", the snake hisses softly, sliding off your bed. She slithers out of your room. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of her smooth scales gliding against your ankle.

Sitting down at your desk, you pull out a piece of paper and start to write to Theo.

Sure, we can do that. Do you have something in mind or do you just want to walk around and see what happens? I'm down for whatever.

I suggest we meet up on Tuesday in two weeks. If that's alright with you.

— (Y/n)

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobsessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter scenarios #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter x slytherin!reader #harry potter x riddle!reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy scenarios #theodore nott #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x riddle!reader #hogwarts #hogwarts scenarios #hogwarts x reader #hogwarts x y/n #hogwarts x you #hogwarts x slytherin!reader #hogwarts x riddle!reader #hogwarts!au #slytherin!reader #riddle!reader

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

I’m going glad you’re into Wow too because lately i’ve been thinking about thigh riding, Kael’Thas, Lor’themar or Illidan with them chuckling and asking me if i’m enjoying myself. You ask when you can go home and they just put you on their lap and start slowly rocking you and creating sweet friction between your thighs. There’s also a size kink there with Illidan because he’s huge, but with any of them I can see them having a complex about pleasuring you better than anyone else. Why would you want to go home when just their thigh can bring you crumpling? Human men or even your own attempts at pleasure fail to achieve what they can to your body. Dude just imagine fucking them while declaring that no amount of human rutting could compare to how they fuck you. Only an elven man and elven cock can satisfy you now

Lol I love the thought of edgelord Illidan finally moving on after literal centuries obsessing over Tyrande...right to obsessing over a tiny little human. Like now the overprotectiveness is turned up to a million. Tyrande is the messiah of the goddamn goddess of creation in Night Elf Lore, if anything she needs to be protecting Illidan. But even a powerful human is someone Illidan will unintentionally condescend to and constantly look out for. They're such a young, frail species that has nowhere near the magical experience of Kal'dorei. And he feels he doesn't deserve them because he's so cursed (and also a fucking edgelord) but he wants them anyway. Angsty fucker.

And Lor'themar having a human Darling just sends me. He tries so hard to be a better leader to his people and draw this distance between them but he knows if anyone finds out, the jokes and assumptions that he and Kael both share a human fetish will never fucking end 🥲

Or like. The vampiric princes Valanar and Keleseth keeping a little mortal pet. They're the only non-undead thing that they bother to keep alive, but they know if an accident with their weak mortal happens when they go too far, they can easily turn them and keep them forever that way. But something about the way they squirm is more satisfying when they have a beating heart and warm blood.

And other angsty boi Koltira being disturbed by his ability to feel for anyone, much less like this and towards a mortal. Species really doesn't matter when you're a death knight, as death and the curse that comes after is kind of an ultimate equalizer. A mortal/non-undead couldn't possibly relate to him, understand the pain he and his comrades have endured. Still...their warmth is something.

Sylvanas feels a similar discomfort. She really doesn't like to be confronted with the trappings of emotionality. That's not something she can afford to have unless those emotions are rage, sorrow, resentment. She can USE those. But this? This makes her feel mortal again. Soft. She can't have that. I think she'd debate over killing Darling to get rid of that emotional risk, or (more likely) she'll take them to keep as a kind of toy to hide away. If she's going to allow herself to have this kind of weakness again, it'll solely be on HER terms. And if Darling dies, she'll secretly be happy. After all, she'll raise them from death herself and make sure the two of them are forever tied.

#the succubi at the Black Temple were constantly being told to shapeshift into humans and they were just like 👀 go these guys are boring af #or lor'themar cutting down every succubus/lust demon that comes near him before they offer to shift into his greatest desire #and his men are like '...sir why is that succubus transformed into that one human' #finally other wow fans and elf fuckers have arrived #.wow #.world of warcraft #yandere wow #yandere world of warcraft #thots #.sylvanas #.lor'themar #.koltira #.illidan

[eternalowl]

Eternals incorrect quotes part five, but with a special appearance of Dane

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Thena, at the slightest provocation: FIGHT ME YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH-

Kingo: I am going to Cobra Kai this.

Ajak: How come that everywhere I go, the ducks come to me?

Ajak: Everywhere I go, there is a rubber duck or a real duck or both-

Phastos: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT PLANETS CAN’T GET PREGNANT-

Sprite: I don’t know you and I don’t trust you, sO FUCK OFF-

Sprite, singing: Last Christmas, I gave you my heart~

Sprite, angrily screaming: AND THE VERY NEXT DAY, YOU RIPPED IT TO SHREDS-

Ikaris: *approaches Druig*

Druig: Shut up!

Ikaris: I DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING???

Ikaris, after ranting about how stubborn Thena is: Why do I hear boss music?

Thena, in the distance: I heard that you were talking shit and you didn’t think that I would hear it.

Ikaris: Why? Why me?

Druig, popping out of nowhere: bECAUSE OF ME-

Gilgamesh: We have ways for making you talk.

Gilgamesh: *cuts a slice of cake*

Druig: Can I have some?

Thena: Cake is for talkers.

Thena: Anyone who would even dare to hurt Gilgamesh is a person I’d murder on sight.

Ikaris: Well, I’m about to drown my sorrows in some wine. Thena, you want some?

Thena: Sure.

Ikaris: Get your own.

Thena, casually: Choke and die.

Kingo, whispering to Sersi: Siblings, am I right?

Druig: *is pouring syrup on some pancakes*

Kingo: BLOWS UP PANCAKES WITH MIND

Druig: my fucking pANCA-

Ajak, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was queen of the ducks.

Sprite: I would, but then I would be lying to the Queen of All Ducks.

Phastos: That sounds like a terrible plan.

Makkari: Oh, we've had worse.

Ajak: Love makes people do stupid things.

Kingo: I love everything!

Ikaris: That explains a lot.

Druig: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos.

Ajak: Did Gilgamesh catch you trying to steal his food before it was done again?

Ikaris: Real life should have a fuckin search function, or something.

Ikaris: I need my fuckin socks.

Ikaris: Can I have some water?

Druig: *starts chugging his water bottle*

Druig: *chokes from drinking too fast*

Druig: *spills water all over himself*

Druig, coughing: I don't have any water.

Thena, texting group chat: What flavour of ice cream do you guys want? I’m at the store so be quick!

Makkari: Moose Tracks is good!

Kingo: What the fuck is that!?

Makkari: How dare you insult moo-

Kingo: No. No no not that. What the hell. Why do you spell flavor like flavour. It’s like you have flavor but then this guy shows up and is like “Oui Oui Would you like chocolate flaVOUR or vanilla flaVOUR.

Thena and Makkari: what?

Kingo: I don’t get it why add the EXTRA u when it’s PERFECTLY FINE AS IT IS!?

Thena: Are you done now?

Kingo: Yeah ok.

Thena and Makkari: ...

Kingo: ...Can I have the Mint Chocolate chip flavour?

Thena: Don’t worry. I’ve got a few knives up my sleeve.

Dane: …Do you mean cards?

The other Eternals: She did not.

Thena, pulling several knives out of her sleeve: I did not.

Ajak: What’s up guys? I’m back.

Ikaris: What the- you can’t be here. You died. I literally saw you die.

Ajak: Death is a social construct created by the humans.

Sprite: Can we go out and get ice cream?

Sersi: Did you ask Ajak?

Sprite: She said no.

Sersi: Then why are you asking me?

Sprite: She’s not the boss of you.

Sersi, internally: It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a traP-

Druig: I’m so tired. I give up.

Sersi: GET THE EMERGENCY SUPPLY!

Ikaris: *carries Makkari and places her in front of Druig*

Makkari: *smiles*

Druig: AaaaAAAAAAAAND I’M BACK. LET’S GOOOO-

Phastos: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it.

Phastos: Everything will be fine. You have no choice.

Druig: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that?

Phastos: The only one that will work when I have to deal with you idiots.

Ajak: Slash game mode creative.

Sersi: Ajak, this isn’t Minecra-

Ajak: *starts levitating*

Kingo: I feel like I have died and gone to heaven.

Thena: I have that dream, too, but you go in the other direction.

Makkari: I have no respect for Santa. Don’t sneak in through the chimney and undermine my authority by bringing my family presents. Walk in through the front door and fight me like a man.

Kingo: I once went on holiday and pretended to be twins. It was amazing and fun. I invented this mad, glamorous sibling and went around really annoying everybody. And d'you know, I could get away with anything when I was my crazy twin Kingo.

Ikaris: But you're Kingo.

Kingo: Kinda stuck. It’s a long story.

Phastos: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something!

Druig: You left me and the others in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Phastos: I did that on purpose, try again.

*While the Eternals are in a battle*

Thena, trying to warn about the location of a Deviant: To the left!

Kingo: Take it back now y'all!

Sersi: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Kingo meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

Kingo: It’s locked. Any of you got a lock pick?

Sprite: Yeah-

Thena: *kicks in the door*

Sersi: Why are you on fire?

Makkari: This is just how my day is going.

Thena: I’m a reverse necromancer.

Gilgamesh: Isn’t that just killing people?

Thena: Ah, technically.

Druig: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Phastos: Did Makkari say 'I love you' and you said 'Thanks'?

Druig: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

Kingo: Guess what I'm about to get!

Thena: On my nerves.

Ajak: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Makkari: Watcha doin?

Sersi: Stealing my neighbour’s cat.

Makkari: Scandalous.

Makkari: Can I help?

Sprite: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

Sprite, texting Kingo: Kingo there’s a giant moth on the outside of the bathroom door can you get rid of it?

Sprite: Pls hurry because I’m going to cry

Sprite: Kingo

Sprite: Kingo

Kingo: Kingo is dead. You’re next. Love, Moth.

Makkari: I tried to write ‘I'm a functional adult’ but my phone changed it to ‘fictional adult’ and I feel like that’s more accurate.

#eternals #ajak #druig #gilgamesh #ikaris #kingo #makkari #phastos #sersi #sprite #thena #thenamesh #drukkari #eternals incorrect quotes #I AM SORRY ABOUT THAT ONE AJAK ONE #I AM SORRY #Ajak is all powerful #Kingo being a lovable idiot #along with everyone else

[waffliesinyoface]

thinking about Zelda Lore again and i’m annoyed with how so many concepts have been excised from the series as time has gone on

in OOT, the gerudo are presented as villains and thieves, and ganondorf’s actions are kind of blatantly Evil™ (a lot of what he does seems to be evil for evil’s sake)... but even so, there’s justification for it? They can’t really leave the desert (because hyrule won’t let them) and the desert is incredibly hostile to life. (Also hyrule literally has secret torture dungeons sitting around so it’s like. PROBABLY NOT GREAT.)

the events of OOT happen, Ganondorf goes a little off the deep end and becomes Ganon, and eventually time gets rewound and everything is undone. Sort of. Time breaks a little bit.

In the past timeline, zelda goes back and manages to convince the king that ganondorf will fuck shit over so... twilight princess happens! ...Which means that Ganondorf is set up to be executed without trial (technically, this version of him hasn’t actually done anything yet) and the gerudo tribe is treated similarly. The gerudo desert is, in the time of twilight princess, devoid of gerudo. But hey, there’s a big ol’ torture dungeon bearing the royal family’s seal, so it’s safe to assume that they were all universally killed and/or banished to the twilight realm!!! Great job, team. Sure, the twili in the future are mostly fine (until ganon returns, is pissed off, and is willing to fuck over his descendants in the name of revenge) but being banished to the twilight realm was essentially a death sentence in all but name. Swapping out one desert for another.

In the future timeline, ganondorf is sealed, link leaves... and then ganondorf breaks the seal, and link’s nowhere to be found. So, what does hyrule do? Rather than cede to him, they choose to destroy the world. They use the triforce to cause an apocalypse. Sure, some of the hylians are spared because they got enough advance warning to flee to the mountaintops, but hey, uh, fun fact? There aren’t any mountains in the desert. In the wind waker timeline, every gerudo is dead and at the bottom of the ocean. I’m sure nabooru was super happy with that outcome, right!!!? When ganondorf manages to (mostly) break his seal again, he’s devastated, and a bit more introspective. He's got depth, babey. But it’s all for naught because while he’s grown into the role of king and managed to distance himself from the urge to rampage as ganon... his people are all dead.

...and then in skyward sword, all of the complexity of the gerudo from TP is ignored, and all of ganondorf’s acquired depth is replaced with Demise, whose motivations begin and end with “Is Evil”. Ganon is evil because he’s the inheritor of Demise’s will, and Demise was evil therefore ganon does evil. Justification for ganon’s initial actions? Feelings of guilt and sorrow and rage? Nah, he’s just Evil™. (also the triforce is notably absent, and though power/wisdom/courage are brought up, din/nayru/farore aren’t, replaced by hylia. Was the kingdom of hyrule kind of shitty under the surface? Well it doesn’t matter, because they’ve now been retconned into literally ruling by divine right) 

We now have somehow less moral complexity than we started with. Good job.

Then in BotW, there’s even less going on. Ganon is no longer a man, is no longer even just the shadow of an angry demon, it’s just malice incarnate. It fucks things up because it’s a virus on the world. But hey, the gerudo are here! ...and they, uh. Don’t really have anything going on anymore. They live in the desert because they are The Desert People™ and they get along just fine. Most of their complexity got relegated to the sheikah/yiga clans, with the yiga being comically, mustache-twirlingly evil.

How are the gerudo alive, when the game clearly takes place after OOT (Urbosa references ganondorf in her speech, though she makes no distinction between the man and the writhing mass of malevolent energy that is The Calamity) and both timelines end with the hylians actually literally genociding them? Don’t worry about it. That’s in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. Shut up. Stop thinking about it. Ganon is just The Thing You Kill now. The gerudo are very fond of hylians and their royal family, and the fact that male gerudo aren’t born is simply a fun quirk, don’t think about it.

#Legend of Zelda #Ocarina of Time #Twilight Princess #Wind Waker #BotW #Hopefully botw2 follows the majora's mask trend of adding complexity back in because it's a direct sequel!!! or I will be disappointed!!!!! #other things that have been excised from the series: songs. they aren't there anymore. #Having instruments being a combination of saving/fast travelling/progression keys/miscellaneous stuff was a VERY ELEGANT game design thing #but that's been taken out in favor of streamlining #also hey nintendo where the fuck are the deku scrubs #what happened to them huh #the kokiri became the koroks and no longer have to worry about becoming skull kids so that explains them... #but they weren't alone in the forest!!! the deku had their own culture too!!!!!!! WHERE DID THEY GO; NINTENDO???

[secret-time-is-here]

An Error's Journey

Chapter 77 - Their legacy

Previous - First - Next - We know

TW: Implied Dreammare

There was a certain peace and serenity in the broken depths of his realm.

The infinite reaches of his magic pocket space was worse than last. Any places that held any semblance of shape were dismantled. All of it broke down until it was unrecognizable. He could barely tell where the rubble of his lighthouse was, the roots of the tree, and shards from the frozen lake.

The abyss was endless and the sound deafening with how quiet it was, even the shuffle of him moving couldn’t break the trance of tranquility he found himself in. It had been so long since he wasn’t burdened by the stress of the outside. So long of pain and hurt. So long of too much. Yet, his soul and mind still ached.

His soul was raining with sorrow. No matter where his thoughts lead him he stepped in the puddles of anguish. He couldn’t escape the downpour or the thunders of negativity. The storm seemed to have no end, and as time dragged on his soul and thoughts fogged, his vision dusting.

In the safety of his realm, for the first time since his last reboot, Error’s sockets drifted closed.

His eyes flew back open, back in his realm again, but it was different. Barren of personality. Devoid of the treasures he had added to it, but just as broken. The remnants of the floating island drifted like a wreck in the sea, all the hard work destroyed. A shadow stood on a small rock in the distance, and with nothing better to do, Error stood and slowly made his way over.

Rock by rock, he slowly made his way over, the fuzzy figure didn’t get any sharper. The shadows thickened as he got closer.

When he could practically reach out and touch, the shadow began to walk away.

When the shadow was some distance away again they stopped, and Error obediently followed again. The next time the shadow began to walk, Error didn’t wait, following the short distance away.

His focus remained on the figure, but as they walked, the background morphed. His beautiful and comfortable realm slowly transitioned.

The rocks and pitiful excuses of islands started to become sturdier. Easier to walk on. The galaxy changed from purples and blues to green. The figure began to change as well, solidifying and splitting apart. The tall shadow fell below his height, the shadows that peeled off of the shorter dashing ahead of them.

He stayed focused on the figure in front of him.

He didn’t even realize when the background changed to a forest, hardly aware when it opened to a valley, a large mansion before him–eerily recognizable, but unfamiliar.

Several more figures stood in front of the mansion, bathed in the blue light of a bright day. They were different then what he was used to, but he would always be able to recognize Nightmare’s souls. Dream’s kind eyes, Reaper’s calming presence, and Ink’s bouncing energy.

The figure he had been following suddenly shifted, a shorter copy of him running forward, practically leaping in the copies of his lovers.

His soul panged, and dust clouded a little more of his vision. Wasn’t there a saying about guilt eating away at people? Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be literal.

The scene faded to black, then abruptly the sky was grey and the ground dead. Murky with dust and blood. The copies of his team sat in a tight circle, Death lingering a little away–as if not wanting to get too close, and Error stepped closer.

The copy of him lay on the ground, the painful red scar shining brightly over his clothes, his soul floating above him. The soul flickered and glitched, but it didn’t take a genius to see that the copy was melting and dusting. Falling to pieces in the finished battle scene.

He could barely hear footsteps in the distance, and Core watched on, expression much more excited than Error had ever seen. He knew Core was pretty fucked up in the head but excited to watch him die? That wasn’t as low as he had seen them go, considering they had literally constructed nearly his whole life, but it still was low.

A bright light flashed the dark scene, and Error turned to see his team's souls shining, Ink’s empty void of a ribcage even flickering with some ghostly apparition. Then, as sudden as it was, the light left and all five of them crumbled to dust.

From the dust, a dark shadow rose, a familiar face standing dazedly. Core’s excited face had long since dropped to one of disappointment.

“Error.” Core spoke flatly, eyes focused on the shadow. For a moment, he was convinced Core had actually made it into whatever dream this was, but that was not the same Core he knew now.

The Core he knew was a blunt jerk. A mastermind that put Nightmare to shame. Someone that didn’t express themself. The remains of a person. The facade of a child that had long since died. 

The shadows pixeled eyes blinked trying desperately to focus.

“What-? Core?! You can’t be serious- This is as serious as it gets. May we have a moment?” The shadow quickly spoke, different voices trying to talk over each other and failing.

“As much as I would love to wait another eternity…” Core grit out, tipping their head sarcastically, “ …You didn’t even get to reach the initial mistake I was trying to get you not to make! You were supposed to-!”

The rest of the words were static, and Chronic’s eyes were wide with shock and he could feel the guilt and negativity wafting from their uncontrolled aura. It made his soul clench further.

Core seemed to finish their rant, anger burning out as soon as it started.

“Core… I am- we are so sorry… We did not know-”

“You weren’t supposed to. If I coordinated everything you did it wouldn’t work for the right end. Even if you were willing.” Core sighed, hundreds of screens suddenly appearing before them with the simple tap of an invisible panel.

The whole area was surrounded by black boxes and white text. Stats of the multiverse, of other multiverses, of characters and outcodes alike. Core conducted their personal symphony, moving the screens around until only a few were left before them.

One screen seemed to hold a journal, an unfinished entry marked with a long string of numbers. How long had Core been at this? How many multiverses were sacrificed for Core to try and reach this “perfect end” of theirs?

Their other panels seemed less important, an inventory with few belongings–just a photo and a few drawings–and a check of Chronic. He knew their stats well. He could feel the LV and power they held back. The aura they carefully kept controlled. However, while the stats were the same, the check was not what he expected at all.

It was definitely Chronic before them, he could recognize that bastard anywhere, but the name of the check was jumbled. Multiple names were layered over each other. He could see the letters for Nightmare’s, the short overlay of Ink’s, the jumble of his name and Dream’s together, and the length of Grim Reaper’s.

The check read simply, “*The failed team. A confused fusion. A powerful god. *They are confused and don’t mean to disappoint. They did what was best in the moment.”

The fourth panel was the most worrisome. Not even a panel at all, but a glowing purple button, one he has felt the power of within Core for centuries, one that he lost track of ages ago.

“Sans. Trust me, you do not want this burden… Even being the keeper of such a thing until it’s to be returned to its proper owner is a terrible fate.”

OVERWRITE floated before them and Core sighed, hand-held still and poised over the button.

“Error, Dream, Nightmare, Ink, Grim, I will give all of you one more chance, but you will not like it.” Core began. Their head moved up from where they had been staring directly at the button.

Their arm fell, and Core stood tall and stiff. “I will let you follow me into the next multiverse, as I need to reset this one, but you have to help me.” The fusion seemed confused, and Core continued, “I will have to take pieces of your soul, to make the new Sans, Nim, Ink, and the star that will become Grim. While I direct Error and help Grim in the early years of the multiverse, I will need your help to set things up and keep the multiverse in balance.”

“Wait- Wait-! You’re going to take apart mine-his-theirs? Our souls?!” The fusion stuttered, uncoordinated.

“Yes, I cannot remake the powers of the original Error nor the others, so I have to reuse the same character each time… due to your fusion, this will be more troublesome… I hope the mixed powers don’t affect the next team that much…” Core thought aloud.

“But- the taking apart the souls thing?” One voice spoke up, Ink’s voice muddled but identifiable.

“Well, I would imagine that your fusion would never feel correct ever again. I cannot allow you all to fuse together again, as it would disrupt the multiverse and by the time you could fuse together–the two sets of multiverse timeline memories would completely jumble your memory. I couldn’t even make a guess at how long you’d stay out of commission, and the multiverse would fall to pieces while you would be out.”

Chronic’s expression dropped to disbelief and further shock, blank yet full of emotion.

“...Despite that,” Chronic looked over at Core again, “Perhaps it could give you closure? You would have a unique eye that would be able to help out the entire multiverse. You could help make sure that everyone is sure of their actions, that they don’t make the same mistake again.”

Core’s voice seemed to fill with hope, and Chronic’s eyes finally calmed, “We could make sure that the next multiverse is the very end. Everyone will have their happy end, and this will be the last OVERWRITE.”

That seemed to convince Chronic, and Error watched as the fusion staggered clumsily forward–nothing like the grace he was so used to seeing from them–before shaking Core’s hand.

The dream faded to black again, and the Chronic and Core he knew now stood before him.

Chronic’s golden pendant pulsed before them, their eyes a perfect magenta, and their aura released for the first time in Error’s presence. He could feel the fullness of their intent, the bittersweet love and sorrow that filled their souls. For such a tall figure, at that moment they seemed so small, so unsure. It was unsettling.

Core stood calmly next to them. Their unkempt hair falling messily over their shoulders, expression relaxed, their aged features prominent in the fake save screen-like space, and their eyes sincere. He had never seen Core so easy-going and relaxed, they seemed more sure than ever that this will be the last multiverse.

That is if this dream wasn’t just some fabrication of his negative-filled mind.

“Error,” He stayed focused on Core, “When the time comes, I am sure you will know what mistake not to make… both of them.” Core laughed softly, and Chronic chuckled along with them.

If Chronic can find solace even after dooming their multiverse, then maybe there was hope for him after all. “...I’ll see you in due time.” Core finally finished, and the dream faded to reality.

It was uncomfortable waking up, his bones ached from being hunched over for so long. His mind was foggy but the dream was still clear. He struggled to grasp any obvious thought.

That explained why he felt so connected to his lovers then… Grim’s soulmate nickname was far more literal than he thought.

As the fog cleared, his senses spread back out, encompassing the broken pieces of his realm again.

He barely felt the presence of anyone else, but Nightmare’s souls gave him away. Chronic did say he would help them…

But did he deserve it?

Chronic was a fusion of kind and caring people–even with an Error piloting it. All of the sudden the switching voices and countless powers made sense, even being able to get into his realm without needing Error to let them in. Kind of hard to keep your own soul out of your realm–the physical manifestation of your soul.

He looked up, watching as Dream, Nightmare, Ink, and Death all tried to navigate the wasteland.

He really was broken then, just like the voices loved to tell him. Down to his very soul. Could he even come back from this? Was it possible?

He could feel it when Nightmare’s eye landed on him, he didn’t need to be able to see the other clearly to tell. He could hear the loud commotion of Nightmare’s discovery even over the chaotic tranquility.

Ink leaped and bounced over as Grim flew Dream and Nightmare closer.

They really cared that much, didn’t they? Even when it was impossible to tell if he could ever come back. Even as he dusted and melted before everyone's eyes. Even after he destroyed the multiverse and pulled it apart for centuries. Even after he locked Cobalt alone in the Antivoid for who knew how long. Even after he hurt them over and over.

Nightmare must’ve picked up on his emotions, as he seemed to whisper to Reaper.

Death slowed, and in turn Ink did as well. They all stopped some distance away, and Nightmare carefully and slowly made his way closer.

It was a tense silence as they met socket to socket. The gaze Nightmare held him with was still as gentle and reassuring as ever, but the bowl Nightmare was trying to hold was nothing but broken shards and crumbs. Even that amazing caress didn’t help.

Nightmare slowly released his aura, and he could feel the calming and caring presence Dream used to talk about. Back before Nightmare was corrupted, far back to when the negative guardian’s aura pulled away negative emotions and soothed them instead of powering the negativity and making the others fall victim to themselves.

Dream did the same, a much less powerful but still soft and caring intent filling the space.

The thoughts slowly became less suffocating, the tight grip of his little ball formation falling, and the feel of their souls not as overwhelming.

Still, no one said anything, even when Error’s cheeks began to burn with the telltale signs of his tears.

Nightmare slowly inched closer, making sure Error was well aware of him approaching, before sitting in front of Error. Dream, Ink, and Death drifted closer, but were careful to not overwhelm him. His frown curved into a small hesitant smile, and the arm he didn’t even know was covering his skull untensed, falling to the floor.

Nightmare slowly moved again, carefully taking Error’s trembling and scarred hand into one of his own. Slowly and softly, the guardian smoothed a thumb over the old bones, gently caressing. A smile graced Nightmare’s expression. The tense silence fell to quiet.

Error’s small smile fell, and Nightmare seemed confused.

“...I don’t deserve ya all.” His hands trembled more, inching back to his ball, but Nightmare held on. Just like he said he would. Just like he had proved he would time and time again.

Looking back at that wonderful purple eye, it was sharp with understanding. No pity. No disappointment. Maybe some concern. But nothing more.

“…That’s okay.” Nightmare finally spoke, that charming voice soothing the aches and pain in his soul, the clenching terror starting to release.

“We…” Dream spoke up, and Error turned to him. Dream blushed brightly, breath hitching, but keeping eye contact, “We… Uhm… we still- still low… love…” Dream stuttered out, and everyone patiently waited as he worked through it, even as Error’s tears kicked back up again. Eventually, Dream closed his eyes as his brows tensed in focus, “...We still love you. Eve- even if you don’t think you deserve it…”

He wasn’t sure if it hurt or healed his soul more to hear that, distant echoes of the realm moving in the distance. Ink’s eyes sparked with emotion.

“...even after everything I’ve done?”

“Oh-! Kitten!” Ink exclaimed, making everyone jump. Ink fell to sit next to Error, “Can I hug you- please?”

He breathed out a nervous chuckle at Ink’s sudden exclamation before clenching his jaw, tears welling up and spilling more and more. His soul started to calm, and finally, he let his other arm unclench from his ball, opening to Ink.

To Ink’s credit, they were careful and slow, making sure Error was comfortable, before hugging tight.

“Stars, I love you–both of us really--being dumb, but we’ve talked about this!” Ink sighed, nuzzling close and burrowing himself in Error’s scarf. “...you weren’t yourself back then… Even the first time we were dating, you never fully recovered your sanity. But I didn’t care… no matter what you did. It’s not your fault. Yeah- there are some consequences to some actions, but you don’t have to carry all this… guilt?” Ink poked her skull up, catching Nightmare’s eye, who nodded. “Carry this guilt with you.” Ink affirmed.

The tears just fell harder.

“But I- I… I hurt-”

“You didn’t mean to hurt us, Soul. You’re okay.” Death spoke up, his voice wonderful to hear after him being so quiet for so long. Everything he loved about all of them had been gone from him for so long. But he probably deserved that too.

“I… uh-” His voice choked up, “...not you all…” He finally grit out, he could feel his soul drop as he finally said the words: “I hurt Cobalt… tore him from his home- practically tortured him… left him alone in the Antivoid…”

The silence was short, Dream quickly filling it.

“Error, we heard a much different story than that.” Dream started, a face of confusion, “Ink and I helped Cobalt in his early years adjusting… while the Antivoid may have been torture, yes, you weren’t.”

“Yeah, you weren’t yourself back then, remember?” Ink snuggled close into his scarf again, “I’ve known it, Cobalt knew it, I filled Goldy in on it… later told Songbird and Cressy…” Ink pulled back, slowly moving their hands towards Error’s skull, and holding his skull when Error nodded, “...It’s okay, Error. We still love you. Always have, always will.” And then Ink leaned forward, chastely kissing him before just resting their foreheads against each other.

It was still a lot to process. Now that it was said and done, it felt laughable how easy all of this could’ve been.

“You don’ gotta be perfect with us, love.” Nightmare slurred, wincing a little as he hit the chip in his skull. Error's tears came back stronger than before, but this time, he smiled wide.

He still had worries, but for a moment, he didn’t have to be perfect. Being Core’s main character can wait a little bit. The mistake can wait. He just wants to hold his lovers close and fall asleep in their embrace.

With a slight smirk, he unwrapped his arm from Ink and pulled at a trail of his tears, smirking further at Death’s comical "oh shit" expression and Dream’s confusion. Carefully, fully expressing his gentle intent, he wrapped up their souls and brought them closer, even tugging Nightmare closer.

Ink smiled, pulling back to shuffle and pull Death and Dream closer, properly getting them close and cuddled on the cracked and uneven ground.

While his lovers moved around, he looked out at his realm. When had it started to piece together again?

The more prominent things were still mostly rubble, but the floating island pulled itself back together, his lake rippling as distant pieces clicked back in place. His lighthouse was still in ruins, but the stairs were intact, the light at the top a beacon of hope in the dark, his tree doubly so.

Nightmare slotted himself next to Error, curling close and resting against Error’s chest as Ink and Dream hesitantly curled up between all of them, Ink giggling as Death’s wings tickled and blanketed them all.

Nightmare lifted his skull, whispering into the side of Error’s skull:

“We’ll always be here for you.”

“...I know.” Nightmare chuckled, pecking Error’s cheek before relaxing.

He could feel Chronic’s distant presence in the realm, and finally, he let out a breath. Relaxing as well with all his soulmates close by.

-

Was it worth the wait? X}

#undertale #undertale au #utmv #aej #an error's journey #error sans #ink sans #nightmare sans #dream sans #reaper sans #chronic sans #chronic error #core frisk #error x nightmare x dream x ink x reaper #elements

[binsoojun]

LIFE BEFORE APOCALYPSE:

He had always wanted to satisfy his parents' expectations for him, but in the end he gained nothing out of it. Resulting in him dropping out and disappointing everyone. But not his brother, however. His brother, Stephen, knew how hard it was to live up to their parents' dreams and how pressuring it was; which made him take in Eita after he got kicked out of the house.

Eita applied to multiple part time jobs to help his brother in paying the rent. Stephen was completely against this idea of providing for him even though he was working fine in an office. Telling Eita to not worry about him and he can live in his apartment rent-free.

Of course, knowing his brother, Stephen was transparent. He was his brother, he could easily notice what was wrong just by observing him. Those sleepless nights, Eita quietly watched Stephen at their dining table as he drank away his sorrows with tear-stained cheeks. Muttering what seemed like a chant of apologies to their parents.

Their bond with each other was strong, not even the deepest pits of hell could break them apart. Eita looked up to his brother as someone who was responsible despite Stephen serving in the military instead of applying to a prestigious college.

He was responsible, strong, bold, and confident. Eita wasn't. He lacked in those certain aspects he had.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

LIFE DURING PRE-APOCALYPSE:

It was a normal day for Eita, his speakers blasting music and scrolling through his phone while laying down on the couch. Until a notification popped up.

"BREAKING NEWS: ZOMBIE MUTATION OUTBREAK CAUSED BY DR. THI**"

"Is this some kind of joke?" He scoffs and swipes the notification. "Jesus, people still believe in these types of clickbait?"

Alarms started blaring after he swiped, startling himself.

He immediately jolted up and looked outside the balcony window beside the couch, analyzing everyone panicking and running away.

‘This is just a coincidence right..?’

Watching from a distance away, he started calling his brother's number after realizing the situation. Shaken from the commotion outside, banging started to rise from their door.

He froze, aware that the thing that was banging the door was not his brother.

He remained in place, his throat going dry.

‘Maybe not moving in place won't make it realize someone's in the room, right?’ He thought, trying to calm his breathing and pulse.

While this was all happening, his phone played a voicemail.

"Hey, this is Stephen, leave a message."

‘You're fucking kidding me.’

A song of mumbling and gushing noise started sputtering outside the door.

"P..lease…. hel..p me…"

Desperately trying to dial his brother again, he began barricading every entrance in the room to pass time while it rang. Rearranging almost every furniture in his sight.

‘Pick up. Pick up.’

‘Food, water… Medication, Bandages..’

He carefully packed and planned out every piece of supply they had to get through for 2 weeks. All that's left was his brother.

‘Why hasn't he picked up these past few minutes? Is he okay? Should I go outside and pick him up? No, that's a dumb move, I'd die the moment I step outside like in those movies.’

His thoughts splurged all over the place, overthinking that his own older brother, his only family that felt like one, might be in danger. Completely forgetting about the entity outside the door.

Staring at his screen with knees up to his chest, it displayed Stephen's contact. His profile featured the two of them, his arm surrounding Eita's shoulders, him wearing his military uniform. Flashing a big grin.

‘He should be fine, right..? Yeah. He should be. I mean, he served in the military for 5 years.’

He clung to that false sense of reality in distress to soothe his feelings of doubt.

But each second made him hesitate more.

‘..Is he fucking with me? Did he leave me to die out here while he goes out surviving on his own?’ His thoughts started getting vulgar.

‘Was he this selfish?’ The idea of Stephen leaving him to die made him furious more. He already left him back then when he went to serve for the military, he can't do this again.

He instantly threw his phone across the room, damaging its screen. Noticing its current situation, he stood up and held it again, admitting that what he did earlier was childish.

He began sobbing just by looking at his contact profile; the mere thought of someone close to him suddenly leaving without saying goodbyes made him upset.

“You're going to be okay, right?”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

MEETING STEPHEN IN THE APOCALYPSE:

Walking through the dead and dreary atmosphere, Eita found himself scavenging for food again.

‘I really should save food for the time being.’

As he was about to clear the convenience store that he usually goes to, he notices a familiar figure hovering over the broken counter. His back turned to Eita.

"Stephen..?"

In a blink of an eye, it quickly reacts. His head turning around to meet the individual who called out his name. Swiftly regaining his posture.

"Eita..?"

"It's really.. you." His knees felt weak. "I can't believe it."

Noticing his sudden behavior, Stephen quickly went and hugged Eita. Catching him in his arms before he could collapse.

"After all of that.." He pushes him away from his grasp in anger. "You still have the nerve to hug me?'

"I can explain. Please, Eita."

"Go on. What kind of bullshit are you going to spit out?" He hissed. "You left me because you were afraid of having someone letting you down? I forgot how self-centered you are."

"...I'm really.. sorry. Eita, I know I let you down."

Eita's eyes began swelling up with tears, unable to stop.

"I thought you promised me you wouldn't abandon me again?"

Stephen hugged Eita again, rubbing his hands against his back as a way to comfort him somehow. "Shh, shh. I'm here now." The area was now filled with sobs and whining from Eita.

"I'm really, really sorry; For leaving you back there. I can't imagine how stressful and overwhelming it was for you by your own. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." Stephen wailed, drowning in tears while choking out words of apologies.

"You're so stupid, god." Eita sighs, "I'm glad you're back."

"I love you, Eita. Thank you, for everything."

"What are you even thanking for?" He sniffed, "I love you too."

While this was all happening, there was a faint figure who was eavesdropping them from the start. They had dark brown hair, grass-green eyes complimenting their tan skin. Listening in on the brothers' heartfelt conversation.

‘That man.. he looks oddly familiar.’

Observing but still remaining hidden, they proceed to analyze the man's face.

"...Stephen, Is that you?"

Breaking the heartfelt silence, Stephen viciously tackled the individual the moment his eyes laid on them. Eita falling back.

They were both on the ground, Eve's arm resisting against the raven hair's neck as he tried to land a bite.

"What are you doing?!" Eita shouted.

"Eita— get out of here!" Breathing heavily from the unexpected attack, they then continue their sentence.

"This..."

They manage to flip Stephen around, holding him back; hurriedly finding the gun they put in their holster.

"This isn't your brother!"

"What are you even talking about?!" He tries ripping Eve off of his brother.

"Get off of him! Why do you even know my name?!—"

Blood splattered onto Eita's face, a horrified expression slowly appearing. It wasn't the stranger's blood that landed on his countenance,

It was his brother's own blood.

His eyes followed along the puddle of blood, shaking. A rush of adrenaline flowing in his body as Stephen's lifeless frame fell onto his lap.

‘A bullet wound... but they didn't even pull out their gun—’

A monotonous voice emerged from the convenience store's broken window. "What country are you from?" Xe pointed.

"You.."

"..."

"The gun in your hand.. you're the one who shot him, didn't you?" His voice trembled with despair.

"Affirmative."

Eita's eyes stung with tears again, but not from relief. From grief.

"He was clearly infected, I had to save both of you."

"You're... you're kidding right?"

"I am not."

Holding his dying brother in his arms, he choked out. "You're not leaving me again aren't you?"

"..." Eve remained silent, still in shock.

"Come on, Stephen! Tell them you're not infected..! Please..."

"Please.. not again..."

Eita cried like a little kid again.

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@@ binsoojun — all rights reserved.

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#soojun ocs— 🍁. #oc stuff #original character

[dottores]

the night we met | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader mentioned kakucho x reader

summary: he knew he deserved it, he just wished it didn't hurt so much.

warnings: angst (? kind of, ran deserves it), fem!reader, established relationship, cheating on both sides, broken marriage, unedited

wordcount: 2.8k

It hadn’t always been like this, Ran swore. There had been a time where the two of you had been happy together. 

Ran wasn’t even sure where it had gone all wrong. That was a lie, he corrected, he knew exactly where it had gone all wrong. He had made it go all wrong. Why? That was the question he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know why; he couldn’t sleep at night trying to figure out why he had done it. 

You had been happy, he had been happy, so why-

Ran inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself down as he looked at the ring adorning the fourth finger of his left hand, the very same one that you refused to wear now. He couldn’t blame you, he had also gone months without wearing it--months that made him physically ill to think back to.

Why had he done it?

The lump blocking his throat only grew as he remembered the late nights he would spend clubbing with Kokonoi and Sanzu, coming home to you waiting up for him on the couch trying not to outwardly react at the smell of unfamiliar perfume stuck to his clothing and the light bruises marking up his neck.

“You’re back late,” you said with a strained smile and a barely concealed hurt look in your eyes, your voice had wavered as if you were on the verge of tears but he had only ignored it, “Could we maybe do something tomorrow? I feel like we haven’t talked much recently, Ran, I’ve missed-”

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you responded, voice cracking, “Yeah, that’s fine. Sorry for bothering you about it, just being silly, I guess.”

He grit his teeth together at the memory, what the fuck was wrong with him? He wished he could go back in time and take it all back, he wished he could apologize and make it all better. Why did he do it? 

“Do you Haitani Ran, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

And he had meant it. He had meant it with all of his heart. Haitani Ran had loved you with everything he had in him so why-

Why the fuck did he ruin it? He knew what he was doing every time he told you he was staying late at work; every time he accepted Kokonoi and Sanzu’s invitations to the clubs with them. And even they thought it was wrong--Ran could see the looks Kokonoi sent him whenever he had found Ran with a girl on his lap and Sanzu was more vocal with it, saying that if he were you, he would’ve killed you a long time ago. He should have expected it from them, though. Kokonoi was still hung up on a girl that died over a decade and a half ago, and Sanzu had some sick obsession with killing traitors, probably because of some repressed trauma.

Even Rindou had called him out for it.

“You’re fucking up, Ran,” Rindou told him, disappointment clear in his eyes, “Y/n is my friend too, not gonna hide this shit from her if she approaches me about it. Get yourself together. She doesn’t deserve this shit.”

And he had ignored him. He’d probably been drunk or high again, and too focused on having a good time at the club than to take his brother’s words seriously. Ran pressed his face into his hands, leaning forward onto his lap. His head was killing him and his ring seared his forehead like a brand, a reminder of his failure.

“I really love you,” he remembered telling you years ago on your eighteenth birthday, hands gently cupping your face, “You’re all that’s it for me. I’m gonna marry you one day, and I’m going to give you the entire world.”

He hadn’t even noticed when you started to distance yourself from him. How had he gone from being so in tune with your emotions that he could tell when something bothered you before you even realized it to not even noticing that you were falling out of love with him?

Falling out of love with him.

Ran inhaled sharply as the thought rang through his head because you had, you had fallen out of love with him after nearly fifteen years of being together, nine years of marriage and it was all his fucking fault. 

And why? He still couldn’t even answer the question. He knew he loved you, he had always loved you even when you were both stupid kids in elementary school and you wore those stupid bright sneakers that he relentlessly teased you for because he didn’t know how to process the strange fluttery feeling he experienced whenever you smiled at him.

When was the last time he had seen you genuinely smile at him?

He couldn’t even remember. He supposed it must’ve been one of the first things that disappeared when you started to give up on him; then it had been the warm look and soft touches that he had taken for granted--no one had ever looked at him as lovingly as you had, no one had ever treated him so gently in his entire life; then you had stopped waiting for him and asking him to spend time with you; and now?

Now, you were barely even home.

Fuck, he thought, trying to clear his head but all he could think about were the late nights the two of you would stay up together, watching movies because he had trouble sleeping and you didn’t want him to stay up alone with his thoughts, knowing the dark turn they would take when he was in moods like that. He remembered how you would patch him up after a fight, carding your fingers through his hair until he was relaxed enough to fall asleep when his adrenaline was still racing from the brawl. He remembered the way you would cup his face and press your lips against his, reminding him how much you loved him.

He was making himself sick. Bile rose in his throat when he realized that the time you had even touched him was three days ago and it had only been to get past him to leave your shared apartment. 

Fuck.

Why did he do it? Why the fuck did he ruin it? He ruined everything and-

He heard the lock click from the front door of your apartment and his head whipped up, he briefly caught sight of his reflection in his TV, wincing. He had barely gotten any sleep the night before because of work and now spending tonight waiting up for you to come back home, he looked like an absolute train wreck, his hair was knotted and messy, hanging around his face and the bags under his eyes were disgusting.

“You’ve been out all night,” Ran said, his voice hoarse and he cringed at the sound of it, briefly watching you place something on the kitchen counter. His eyes darted toward the clock next to him, zeroing in on the bright 4:50 AM that made him feel sick to his stomach. “You could have texted at least. I didn’t know where you were, I was worried.”

The look you gave him was nothing short of cold and he briefly shut his eyes as he looked away, the memory of the small, kind smile you would always direct toward him flashing through his mind. Tears stung at his eyes--it’s just cause he’s tired, he told himself, forcing them away as he grit his teeth and reopened his eyes.

“You have no reason to be worried,” you said flatly, “I’m not a child, or your responsibility.”

“You’re my wife,” Ran said, trying to keep his voice sharp but it cracked on his final word and he sighed, refusing to look at you as you scoffed loudly. 

“Can we just go to bed?” his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. 

“We?” you asked incredulously, and Ran remembered that you hadn’t slept in your shared bed for weeks now, instead choosing to stay in the guest room, or just not come home--he assumed you stayed with Rindou most nights but he wasn’t sure and Ran was too scared he would learn something he didn’t want to if he asked Rindou about it because what if you weren’t staying with him? “Go to bed, I don’t care what you do.”

Ran physically flinched as if he had been hit--he might as well have been, he decided.

He deserved this. He knew he did. He just wished it didn’t hurt so much.

“I can’t-” Ran stopped himself from what he was planning on saying, I can’t sleep well without you, “Can you just come to bed tonight?”

“No,” you said, without hesitation, “I’m not staying. I only came back because I forgot an extra pair of clothes.”

Ran stilled at your words. 

You had plenty of clothes at Rindou’s. Where the fuck were you staying then?

His eyes drifted to the light bruises marking your neck. He knew you were fucking around with people, that wasn’t new knowledge to him, but staying overnight with them? This was what he feared. This was why he had been scared to ask Rindou. 

What-

You walked past him to get to the room and he caught a whiff of it.

You smelled like them again, the same smell that he had noticed a few times before but never put two and two together--the same eerily familiar pine that you came home smelling like almost every night now. It hurt. As fucked up as it was for him to hate it, he did because at least he never had been with the same person more than once. You were seeing someone, he realized, the same someone regularly. It wasn’t just you fucking around with random people you met at the bar as he had assumed. Ran was suddenly feeling light-headed.

What if it’s serious? a dark voice jeered at him, the same one that had begged him to stop five months ago when he had cheated for the first time, taking delight in his misery, she’s going to leave you for good.

A part of him knew it was the least he deserved. You shouldn’t have stayed with him for half as long as you had but that other part of him was screaming--screaming in fear of losing you for good. He had to fix this. He had to fix it, losing you wasn’t an option. 

As you started walking away, a sick feeling swept over Ran and his mouth was moving before he could stop, “Y/n, can we start-”

“I finished filling out the divorce papers today,” you interrupted him and Ran’s voice died in his throat as he stared at you, eyes wide, “all that’s needed is for you to sign them and we can be free of this shitty fucking failed marriage.”

He was shaking, his hands were shaking, what was he supposed to do?

“Y/n, I don’t-” he couldn’t even finish the sentence. How could he? How could he tell you that he didn’t want this after the months of hell he had put you through? How could he be that fucking selfish?

“You don’t what, Ran?” you asked dryly, eyes hard as if you knew what he was about to say.

“I don’t want this,” he said, rising to his feet and trying to ignore the weak feeling in his knees as he approached, “Y/n, I don’t want this. Please, let’s give it one more chance, yeah? I’ll treat you right this time, I promise. Please, I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust and love again. I-I don’t want to lose you, just-”

“I’ve been seeing your coworker,” you said, voice cold, unaffected by his pleas and Ran stopped in his tracks, staring at you, not even fully comprehending what you had said, “We’re serious. I’m moving in with him this week.”

“What?” he breathed out because who the fuck were you seeing? Not Koko or Sanzu, surely. Rindou wouldn’t do that to him, right? He knew his younger brother had had a kiddie crush on you when you had all been younger but-

“Kakucho,” you explained and Ran’s heart plummeted from his chest down to his feet because of course, it was Kakucho. You two had been friendly whenever Ran dragged you along to any high-class events; other than Rindou, he had been one of the few people to try to keep you engaged in conversation instead of letting you just sit there awkwardly while everybody talked around you.

Kakucho, who would never fuck up like Ran did because if there was one thing Ran knew about Kakucho, he was one of the most loyal fuckers in the entire world, right up there with Sanzu--both of them would rather die than betray one of the people they care about, unlike Ran, who had betrayed you without remorse for months.

Kakucho, who would certainly treat you better than Ran did. The man had already treated you better than Ran ever did the past few months well before you had started cheating on him, grabbing you small things thinking of you whenever you stopped by the base to see Ran, always greeting you and waiting with you while you waited for Ran to finish up with whatever he was doing so you didn’t have to stand there alone.

Kakucho, who was Bonten’s Number 3, his higher-up, and one of the few people in this entire world that was untouchable to Ran. Even if he wanted to, Ran would never be able to do anything to Kakucho for stealing you from him unless he wanted to be hunted down by Bonten for the rest of his life, and likely get his brother killed in the crossfire. 

“Oh,” it was all Ran could say, and he was sure all of his emotions were clear on his face, all of the pain, all of the anger, all of the fear because this was his worst nightmare come to life, he was sure of it. It had to be some sort of sick dream because you couldn’t be leaving him, right? Fifteen years, fifteen years you had been together and you had known each other for over twenty now. He couldn’t be losing you right now, it was just a sick dream, it had to be.

“Is there… really nothing I can do?” Ran couldn’t help but ask, searching your face desperately even for just the slightest bit of love directed toward him, the slightest bit of regret about leaving him. He could fix this, he could fix this, he could fix this-

“You’ve done more than enough already,” was all you said and Ran couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find any love, he couldn’t find any regret and he wondered how long ago he had really lost you because there was nothing there anymore. How hadn’t he realized how bad it had gotten before it was too late? Why had he been so sure everything would turn out okay?

“I love you,” he blurted out desperately, “Y/n, I love you, I do. Please, let me try to-”

“Stop fucking around,” your voice was harsher than he ever remembered it and Ran wanted to cover his ears and block it out because if this was going to be one of your last conversations as lovers--friends, even--then he didn’t want to hear you using that tone with him as his last memory.

“I’m not-” Ran shook his head, I’m not fucking around, just give me one more chance.

“I left the papers on the kitchen counter, go sign them while I go pack, I’m done talking about this”

You disappeared around the corner of the hall and Ran wanted to fucking scream. He was crying he realized, when had been the last time he cried?

Ran didn’t know what to do because the only thing he wanted to do was go back and change it and he couldn’t do that. He wanted to go back to that first night he went to the club with Sanzu and Kokonoi and listen to them when they questioned him about what he was doing. He wanted to go back to the day you had gotten married, the night he had asked you out, the morning that the two of you had met the first time just to get the chance to treat you right, to do what he should have done the first time around.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back, he wasn’t getting another chance and-

He had lost you; he had fucking lost you and it was no one’s fault but his own.

--

Tags: @souya-kawata @spookydraken @crybabylisa @mizumellon @kennyb0y

#ran x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #haitani ran x reader #tokyo revengers #kakucho x reader #hitto kakucho x reader #haitani ran #hitto kakucho #tokyorev fanfic #tokyorev #tokyo rev #haitani ran angst #tokyorev angst #ran angst #sanzu haruchiyo #haitani rindou #kokonoi hajime #tokyo revengers angst

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes reader insert

[volleychumps]

Requesting cheating angst with Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, and Atsumu? Rip my heart apart please😌😌♥️

oH SHIT let’s do a remix on the fluff for this one post, everybody- I’m in an angsty mood so uh, eskettit :( I couldn’t make it past Akaashi’s scenario and I had so many breaks, so proceed at your own risk, everyone! 

Turn and Keep Going. (Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and Akaashi) - angst -

TW: CHEATING, CURSING, ANGST- no fr I ugly cried and I wrote it

Kuroo

“Y/N. Where do you keep the extra towels again?”

You didn’t mean to see it. In fact, if you had the choice on whether or not you did- 

you would have chosen not to. 

The phone in your hand became tightened in an iron-clad grip as a chuckle with a nervous tinge to it slipped Kuroo’s mouth, and the world seemed to drown out for a moment. As if the world around you submerged into the water of the sea, where everything you could hear was jumbled as a strange heat flooded your vision, choking your lungs with the salt of the ocean. 

“Y/N?” The garbled voice was questioning now as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, of the naked set of breasts and invites, even worse- 

the accepting replies. 

That was all it took for you to flinch away from the hand that Kuroo had carefully set on your back hunched over the device, the towel he had been using to dry off his hair falling to the floor in a heap of material as the raven-haired boy finally entered your bedroom from his post-practice shower. 

Still, the phone remained tightened in your hand so tight to the point where your knuckles were turning white. 

“Why are you going through my phone?” The accusatory edge to Kuroo’s voice had risen, and so did you to your feet, the device hitting the floor next to the towel as you fight to keep your head afloat.

“How long?” Your voice cracked, no matter how hard you fought the breaking feeling spreading across your chest as Kuroo seemed to still completely, and you didn’t need to look at him fully in the face to know how utterly guilty he looked. 

“W-What do you-?” 

“Don’t.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet the captain’s eyes now, not knowing just who was standing in your room. 

Not knowing just who was the man now holding your face in his hands, urging you to look at him with his own flood falling on his cheeks as his words remained garbled. Still, you let him. 

“Baby. Kitten-fuck. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I love you! I wasn’t completely there when I-” 

“Fucked her?” Your voice hadn’t risen, eyes glazed over in a haze as Kuroo’s voice hitched. 

“No. Nononono- Y/N, kitten-” 

“T-Tetsurou?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as your head finally rose to meet his, willing everything inside you to hold it back as Kuroo held you tighter, as if his arms would salvage what was falling apart. 

“Get out.” 

“Y/N. Please.” His voice fell to a whisper- 

and the dam broke. 

“I SAID GET THE HELL OUT.” You screamed, falling to your knees as your arms wrapped around yourself, knowing you were all you had in the world at the moment. You saw his legs approach you, before hesitating and turning the other way, clenched fists creating bloody marks in his hands from his fingernails as he complied. 

“And Tetsurou.” You spat just as his legs stall in the doorway, watching as Kuroo’s feral and playful eyes that once painted every edge of your universe seemed to be fighting to remain stable. The captain heard those words, and couldn’t fight the sobs beginning to wreck his body as the voice he loved echoed in his ears with parting words- 

Your voice didn’t crack this time. 

“Don’t come back.” 

Iwaizumi

“She’s a nobody.” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, humorless chuckle slipping your lips as Iwa steps to your side, dark eyes looking tired and void of any light that might had once lit up his dark irises. You look out at the landscape, still looking straight forward as the ace settles next to you, hanging his forearm across his bent knee. 

“How did you find me?” 

“It’s been two years. I know you, Y/N.” Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into your side profile, and more sarcastic giggles make their way past your lips as you hug your knees to your chest, jabbing him where it hurts. 

“Funny. I really thought I knew you, Hajime-” 

“Don’t you start with that shit.”

You lazily finally meet Iwa’s eyes, causing the ace to feel the lump growing in his throat at the amount of light drained from the look of them, mirroring his own. Iwa moistens his lips, trying to get his head back on track as the heat tinges at the sides of his eyes. 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Yeah. We did.” 

Iwa flinches at the past-tense term, feeling his breathing hollow out at the sound of it. 

“We must’ve at some point, right?” All cried-out, you watch the sun seem to slowly sink into the horizon in a mix of color as your eyes soak in its’ prettiness, as if the light from the sun would somehow bring the gleam back to your eyes-

but every time you closed them, all you saw was Iwaizumi fiercely kissing another girl in the passenger seat of her car, fist clenched in her hair as he kissed her with anger from the fight he had with you-

“You do. You love me.” The denial sunk in as you laugh. And you laugh some more as if that were the most idiotic thing in the world. “And I love you, Y/N- princess, we can make this work and get through this-!” 

“I don’t want to, though.” You cut him off, drawing circles in the dirt as you remember the nights teasing Iwa for showing too little emotion- not knowing that the most you would get out of him would be after he stuck his tongue down another girl’s throat. 

“Don’t you get that?” You shake your head, smiling as if you can’t believe it, shoving Iwa’s attempt of holding you off of you as you raise to your feet, soaking in the colors as they fade to a more dark color palate. 

“I don’t give a fuck about some nobody, don’t you get that?!” Iwa’s on his feet now too, and you finally begin to crack as you look out to the horizon, a familiar heat flooding your vision as you smile. 

“Hey, Hajime.” You ignore his cry, prompting the dark-haired boy to look in the same direction you were. “This is where it all started, didn’t it? Where you kissed me, and promised that you would always protect me, right?” 

Iwa’s own eyes brim with frustration as the stinging heat from earlier takes over, feeling the mix of regret and heartbreak begin to settle in as you turn and give him a smile. No sarcastic intention behind it as you close your eyes, Iwa’s eyes widening at the sight of something he’d never get to see again. 

“I guess you really don’t know me, after all.” You smile to the point where its’ painful, spinning on your heel. “I came because I knew you’d find me, not to fix whatever this is, but-” 

You’re turned around now, the sun fading into night as you will your legs to keep walking. 

“To say goodbye to you, Hajime.” 

And so, the dark-haired ace watched as you walked off into the distance and out of his life for a problem he created, yells of frustration enclosed in his throat and the need to punch something ever-so prevalent- 

as the sky above now swirled with dark pigment. 

Akaashi

“Don’t. Don’t go, please.” 

“Keiji, let go.” You tug your arm in an attempt to make the messy-haired boy release you, trembling when he pulls you into his chest, burying his head in your neck as the hot tears hit your skin, prompting you to bite your lip and fight the urge to hold him back as your own eyes burn. If he wouldn’t let you go, then-

You can’t help the vicious words from slipping. “She’s waiting, you should go to her, shouldn’t you?” 

“Stop. D-Don’t say that-” 

“Am I wrong?” Your voice remains stable to your surprise, causing Akaashi to tighten his hold on you even more. “The girl who came out after you in your shower...who is she?” 

“No one! No one, Y/N, you were so far for so long, and-” 

“And what?” You question emotionlessly. “You have needs? You were lonely? Cut the bullshit.” 

“Do you know what it’s been like?” Akaashi’s voice is soft with an angry edge as he pulls back, still holding you in his arms as if to keep you there for an eternity, and for a minute, time does stop- 

and you soak in the reality. Life tore you two apart, distanced yet together, far away yet still part of the same relationship. The blue-eyed boy would never be able to rewind the clock and keep you as his no matter what life hurled- 

“Let go.” 

“Fuck if I do.” 

Your strong exterior begins to crumble as Akaashi watches with now widened eyes as the viciousness drains only to be replaced with sorrow, relief filling his heart when you hold him back just as tightly, your chin resting on his shoulder as your grateful he won’t be able to see what kind of expression crosses your features. 

“Keiji.” You whisper almost child-like, causing Akaashi’s heart to swell with hope until the next words make his heart stop. 

“Eat healthy, will you? I know Bokuto likes to drag you around to all these places, but too much ramen isn’t good for you-” 

“Y/N?” 

“And please, for god sakes, make sure you remember to pick up your suit from the laundromat on Thursdays, I know you’re presentations are usually on Fridays-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh, and don’t forget- you always make it a point to drop by Konoha’s for a guy night on the fourth of every month, so don’t drink too much because it gives you a massive migraine in the middle of the night-” 

“Y/N!” 

“And Keiji?” You pull back, corners of your mouth pulled back as you cup his face gently, leaning your forehead against his as Akaashi Keiji freezes in shock as the love of his life, his future, his world- 

Smiles a wordless goodbye, capturing his lips as Akaashi wonders how to turn the hands of time, forcing the laws of nature to bend for his selfish desires as his arms slacken- 

“Be happy.” You whisper, retracting your arms and hands before stepping out of his now weak grip, brushing past him with a finality in your steps as time refuses to stop, Akaashi fighting every instinct on forcing you to stay with him- 

letting you go as the hands of time continue to move along with your steps away from him, the setter lifting a hand to his mouth before he falls to his knees and looks up to the sky- 

wishing he had more hours, minutes, and seconds to see that smile for just a bit longer. 

“Yeah. You do the same, love.”

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

LMAO GO READ SOME OF MY FLUFF IF THIS MADE YOU SAD I’M SORRY 

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu akaashi keiji #haikyuu iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu angst #tw: cheating

[mizunetzu]

Tags~: @scifiji @shiny-bun @luv-hqs @gummiebearsmp4 @aquariusmurderer @inarizza @roadkillarr (finally I made the part two AHAHAH)

——————

Kita x reader - warm, warm professions (God I love you so much) (cold cold obvs. Part 2)

Warnings - ahaha angst, crying Kita

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find part one here!

——————

“Shicchan, your hands are so cold...”

(Y/n) cupped both of Kita’s numb hands in his own. Kita tensed, looking down at both of their hands. He felt his own hands being attacked with (Y/n’s) warm ones, his cold, cold hands already thawing just at the one touch.

“Isn’t it hard to toss the ball when you’re hands are numb? That’s bad!” (Y/n) brought Kita’s hands to cup his face, his hands stinging from how warm his cheeks were.

(Y/n) nuzzled his face into Kita’s left hand. He practically murmured into his palm. “How’d they get so cold in the first place?”

Kita wouldn’t show it, in fact he didn’t think he could if he tried, but the warmth that spread across his chest made him suddenly want to run laps. He settled for slightly gripping and rubbing (Y/n’s) cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t know.” Was all Kita could muster. He was too lost in (Y/n’s) captivating eyes.

God, he loved him so much.

——

Numb.

Numb was the way Kita would describe the feeling in his mouth.

He sat quietly on a foldable chair in the gym, twirling his fingers together instead of watching the practice match going on. He didn’t think he could pay attention if he tried, when he used to be able to have his eyes glued onto the ball even though he was on the sidelines. His fingers felt kind of numb.

He wrapped his fingers up in his shirt to no avail. All it did was make his stomach cold from his fingers bitter touch. It wasn’t even that cold outside. It was a rather nice day in terms of weather. But it didn’t feel like that at all.

“-ita. Kita!”

Kita raised his head. Atsumu loomed above him with his arms crossed.

“...Did you need something, Atsumu-san?”

“Yeah. Why’re ya actin’ all depressed? You’re makin’ everyone feel depressed too, y’know.”

“Atsumu! Shut the fuck up!” Kita heard someone whisper-yell, as well as a grunt of pain from Atsumu. Kita blinked.

“Nothing...much.”

“Nothin’ much?! How bout’ when you started cryin’ yer ass off during practice a week ago? Didn’t seem like nothin’ to me!”

Osamu slapped Atsumu upside the head. Aran sighed.

“I gotta agree with Atsumu-san on this. You don’t look too good these days. Especially since (L/n)-san stopped showin’ up to practice.”

There was hums and nods of agreement. Kita pursed his lips.

“Did...did something happen between y’all?”

Kita couldn’t look Aran in the eyes. He, also, used to have no problem speaking his mind (in fact sometimes it came out automatically) but right now his mouth was glued shut. Now, and probably forever. He didn’t wanna say it. He didn’t wanna think it. He didn’t wanna hear it-

“Kita and (L/n) broke up a week ago.”

Suna pitched in monotonously. Kita flinched subtly. The gym was silent. All eyes were on Kita. His throbbing, cold hands didn’t help, as he tried warming them up discreetly by stuffing them under the backside of his shirt.

“Oh...uh, sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mind.”

The awkward, sympathetic pats on the back didn’t really help either, but he replied with a curt “s’fine.” nonetheless.

——

(Y/n) kissed the back of Kita’s hand.

“Looks like your hands warmin’ up...” He drew it away from his lips and examined it with half lidded eyes and a reserved smile. Kita watched as tiny specs of sun fluttered around (Y/n’s) warm face, painting his face and hair with light that made him look like an angel sent from heaven.

Kita mindlessly brought his free hand up to the side of (Y/n’s) face, touching and stroking his cheek with the grace of a feather. (Y/n) looked up from his hand, up at Kita’s face.

(Y/n) leaned into his touch. He used his other hand to cup the hand resting peacefully on his cheek, nuzzling his nose further into Kita’s palm.

“Something wrong?”

“No...”

Kita felt a throbbing, hazy feeling in his chest. Like something inside his ribcage was trying to break free, and explode into a million pieces.

“Then, do you just like holding my face?” (Y/n) smiled that smile that made him go weak in the knees. “That’s good...I like it when you hold my face too.”

God, he loved him so much.

——

Kita slumped down, doubled over himself panting and heaving on the sidewalk where Inarizaki was collectively jogging. Ginjima stopped in front of Kita, jogging in place.

“You’re usually in the very front of the pack when we all run.” He said in between huffs.

Kita said nothing, only panting and crouching down to catch his breath.

“You run in the very back of the group now.”

He was met with no response again. Ginjima stopped running in place, and stared down pitifully at Kita’s hunched over body.

“S’everything alright back there?!” Aran called out from a distance. Ginjima yelled out a “Everything’s fine!” While waving his arms around in the air until Aran waved back. Ginjima looked back at Kitas scrunched up form.

“Y’know-maybe you should just...go home for the day. Take a break.”

Kita looked up at him with dry, tired eyes. His throat refused to put out any other sounds than exhales the occasional cough.

“Go freshen up and go home. You won’t die missing a day of practice.” Ginjima crouched down to Kita’s face, his voice noticeably softer and careful. “It’s not like you to push yourself when you know you’re not doing well.”

“I’m not sick, it’s not the same thing-“

“But you’re heartbroken.”

Heartbroken. Kita supposed that was the word to describe his situation right now. Heartbroken, yet it didn’t feel like the correct word to describe how he felt. He felt like he was dying. Drowning. Freezing.

“I’ll walk you back, ‘kay?” Ginjima pushed off his feet, extending a hand over to Kita. He pulled him up, and Kita swayed in the air like a bobblehead. “Go change and go home. We’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry. I’ll tell the others you went home.”

Ginjima and Kita walked in the opposite direction they were running. Kita downcast his face.

“M’kay.”

——

“Do you love me?”

Kita remembered the way (Y/n’s) face didn’t radiate the warm glow it usually did when he was around him. His eyes looked strained, infuriated even, and he looked like he wanted to say something more. But it was a simple question, ‘do you love me?’. And of course he did. So that’s what he said.

“...Of course I-“

“”of course I do.” That’s what you always say..! Say something else, dammit! Say you love me!”

(Y/n) abruptly rose from his seat, stepping over the bench and grabbing Kita by the collar. He pulled him closer to his face, shaking him by the shirt with knuckles that almost turned white.

“M-Make me believe that you love me!”

He really wish he didn’t remember how much tears flowed freely from (Y/n’s) eyes, and how he was biting and gnawing at his lip to keep from screaming, or the way he shook with despair in general. It played over and over again, the same sorrow-riddled expression that made Kita’s stomach drop.

He really wish he didn’t remember. But he wished he’d said something, anything, even more.

(Y/n’s) face went from angry and sad, to numb and cold in a matter of seconds. He’d much rather prefer the heated look of (Y/n’s) angry face, than the stone cold lifeless look (Y/n) held when he let go of his shirt. Because even with his angry sobs and screams, there was still a hint of warmth. Even if it was angry passion, it was still better than the cold, dead stare he held that Kita couldn’t meet.

“...I think we should break up.”

Kita’s world went silent. He was struck with an immediate shock of dread, panic, stress, and everything in between. He had so many questions. Why? Didn’t he know that he loved him? He loved him so, so much, so why was he saying that he didn’t? Was his love not enough? Didn’t he know how much he needed him?

He had so many questions, yet his face made of cold stone could only say one thing.

“Why?”

(Y/n’s) iron clad grip on Kita’s shirt loosened, he stepped back, face feeling raw after crying. “I don’t want to be with someone who can’t tell me they love me. Once you can tell me you love me, and mean it, I’m all ears.”

Kita watched as (Y/n) turned his back on him for the first and last time. More thoughts raced in his head. He could change. He could do better. He’d love him a thousand times more, fix every little imperfection, hell, do it a thousand times over again if it meant that (Y/n) would turn around with that warm smile again. He wanted see that smile again. That smile that made him feel so warm. Please. One more time. Kita’s arm gravitated outwards, reaching for (Y/n’s) cold back as he turned away. One more time, please smile for me.

But he didn’t. He was met with nothing more than a cold shoulder.

He was left with the sudden drop in temperature, the world once filled with so much warmth being winded away into a cold wasteland. Kita looked down, his eyes numb and wide.

“Please come back...” he remembered saying, though he didn’t think it ever came out audibly.

“I love you, (Y/n)...”

‘God...dear God...’

He loved him so much.

‘Why did you take him away from me?’

‘The gods were always listening, is what my Baa-san would always say. Were the gods not listening to my undying love for you, (L/n)(Y/n)? Was my feelings for you not enough to make you smile for me one last time? God, I loved you so much.’

‘So did I not love you enough?’

——

Kita found himself sitting on the same bench (Y/n) professed his love for him to. Granted, it was the same bench they had broken up on, but Kita didn’t want to think about that.

He twirled a wilted cherry blossom petal in between his fingers. The rigid, dark pink petal cracked and crumbled, turning into dust in Kita’s hand.

As much as he hated this place, this stupid stone bench with a cherry blossom tree, it was a beautiful sight that not much students knew about. It was quiet, but it caused (Y/n’s) cold, cold eyes to bore into his mind all the more he stayed. It was a double edged sword.

He sometimes wondered what (Y/n) was doing with his free time outside of the club. What did he do? Did he take a nap after classes? His sleeping face looked very cute, though he only saw it once when he dozed off studying at his house. Did he spend time with his parents? He always found people respectable to their parents very attractive. Did he find a new club to stay with?

Kita clenched his fists. The thought of (Y/n) playing a different sport, doing something else after school, didn’t sit right with him. Was that what he was doing? Did he realize how cold and uncomfortable he made volleyball for him, and decided to leave? Would he never see him smiling up at him again after school?

Would he never see (L/n) (Y/n’s) warm, warm smile directed at him ever again?

He heard footsteps echo on the grass behind him. The footsteps halted awkwardly, and Kita turned around.

(Y/n) locked eyes with Kita. He should’ve been paying attention to where he was going, huh? Maybe if he was looking where he was walking, he could’ve noticed Kita Shinsuke sitting there, and could’ve found a different spot to sit at after school.

(Y/n) wasted no time spinning on his heel and leaving. He didn’t wanna face Kita after everything that went down.

Kita feet sprang him up and off the bench. He didn’t know what he was doing, but the next thing he knew was that his arms wrapped around (Y/n’s) body, holding him while he was facing away. Kita’s mind raced with thoughts and went absolutely blank at the same time.

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “What do you want?” He said. It came out harsher than he intended, but Kita paid no mind. He wordlessly buried his face into the crook of (Y/n’s) neck, nuzzling it and relishing in the warmth that was not intended for him.

“H-hey! What gives!” (Y/n) half-heartedly tried pushing Kita away. He knew if he gave in now, he’d come crawling back into Kita’s cold, loveless arms, craving that touch and pretending it was indeed, love. “Don’t...don’t touch me, Kita-“

“Shinsuke.”

The arm that was trying to push Kita away went limp. (Y/n’s) hardened exterior cracked as his resolve faltered. Kita buried himself deeper into (Y/n’s) shoulder, firmly wrapping his arms around (Y/n) tightly. He was practically murmuring into (Y/n’s) school uniform.

“Call...call me Shinsuke...it’s what you used to call me...when we first started dating...”

“Well,” (Y/n) downcast his face, his eyes hardened and cold while he balled up his fists. “We aren’t dating. So why does it-“

All of (Y/n’s) resolve, all the time he spent putting up the barrier to his emotions, shattered once he heard the first sniffle from Kita.

After that, Kita fell apart like dominoes.

His grip on (Y/n’s) waist tightened as he shook violently, sobs crescendoed and ripping through his body explosively, unlike the silent tears that he shed that day he left. His whimpers and choked cries were muffled from the cloth of (Y/n’s) uniform. He loved him so much. Why couldn’t he see how much he loved him?

Kita cried and cried on (Y/n’s) shoulder. He couldn’t see the type of face (Y/n) was making, and that made him all the more nervous. He wanted to feel the warmth of (Y/n) at least one last time. After that, he swore he would move on. He swore. He swore, so one last time. Please.

(Y/n) sighed. “Kita...”

Kita didn’t respond. He continued to cry pathetically onto (Y/n’s) shoulder.

“Kita-kun.”

This time, Kita shakily shook his head. (Y/n) sighed, this time more stably, and untangled Kita’s vice grip from his body.

“Shinsuke-kun...”

Kita, confused and sad, finally caught a glimpse of (Y/n’s) face when he turned around. He had a look of empathy, his warm hands brought up to his cheeks, melting his ice cold skin awake. Kita rumbled with another choked sob, closing his eyes and sobbing into (Y/n’s) hands. It was so warm. After the cold winter storm he’d suffered through, the first ray of sunshine that shone through always felt the best.

“Shinsuke-kun,” (Y/n) repeated. Kita hiccuped, trying to stop his tears from falling.

“P-lease come back...” Kita’s voice was hoarse, cracking with every word. “I-I don’t like this...”

(Y/n) said nothing. Kita broke free from (Y/n’s) soft grip on his face, and brought him into a hug. He was never much for physical affection, but right now (Y/n) felt so, so warm.

“You’ve...you’ve treated me so kind...I-I’m sorry...i’ve been so cold...” Kita rambled on, sobbing into (Y/n’s) hair quietly. (Y/n) still didn’t say anything.

“I-I...didn’t mean to...I swear...! I’ll be a better boyfriend...please...I’ll love you correctly...”

(Y/n’s) silence was defecating. Kita felt his ears go numb with the silent treatment he was being put through. Was this his punishment?

“I...say something...! Please...” Kita whispered, tears gathering at his eyes once more. “Please...”

Then, (Y/n) finally wrapped his warm arms around Kita. He mumbled pathetically, “Y’know I don’t like it when people cry, Shinsuke...”

It was Kita’s turn to go quiet. (Y/n) pulled away, much to Kita’s protest. However, the warm smile (Y/n) gave him made his heart throb and his throat close up.

(Y/n) caressed Kita’s face with his thumb. “Stop crying...”

“I love you...” Kita whispered, his voice cracking at the seams. (Y/n’s) face adorned a look of astonishment, a slight blush lighting up his already perfect sunny face.

(Y/n) smiled again. That same smile Kita had been craving for forever.

“T-Tell me that again...please.”

Kita collapsed into (Y/n’s) warm arms. Choked sobs of “I-I love you-!” And “I-I love you so much...” echoed through the air. The emotionless barrier, holding all of Kita’s emotions captive to the world, cracked and shattered, his crying face bearing the weight of a man who loved (L/n) (Y/n) with his entire being.

(Y/n) stroked the back of Kita’s head softly.

“Of course you do...”

God, he loved him so much.

——————

#kita angst #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x you #kita x y/n #kita x male reader #shinsuke kita x reader #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu boys #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x male reader #hq x y/n #hq x male reader

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa

[shokobuns]

green light.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

GENRE: angst, smut, gatsby au

WORD COUNT: 2.9k+

WARNINGS: smut (17+), angst, major character death, size kink, unprotected sex, implied overstim, praise

NOTES: this is for @erensbunny's collab! thanks for betaing @mitsuluv <3

Miles away from your own household, there’s nothing and no one.

Only a flower field that stretches beyond the horizon, the hues of orange and purple in the sky, round sunglasses and a picnic blanket. It’s miles of pink and green, far from family fortune, far from status, far from your own obligations. Places like these were too few and far between, but it doesn’t matter because life hasn’t started and there was nothing to tie you down just yet.

He interlocks his fingers with yours, bringing the back of your hand to his lips while you giggle, staring into his cerulean eyes. Your sundress stops at your ankles, ruffles following down in a pattern, and his button up fits loosely around his torso, the first few undone revealing his pale chest. His other hand comes up to caress your cheek, causing you to pull the brim of your hat down to hide your face, but he swats it away, wanting to admire your flushed cheeks.

The sunset perfectly illuminates your skin and while there was nothing to separate the two of you just yet, there will be something that does. And so, he treats every moment as if it was the last, memorizing the creases of your face when you smile, the pearls complimenting your skin, the sound of your laughter. You, on the other hand, don’t think much about what’s to come. Because for right now, you feel too much love, too much to the point where it clouds your thoughts of the future.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Satoru.”

A small phrase that can only be uttered when you’re miles away, a place where it is just you and Satoru and you and Satoru only. And while you can fall into the rabbit hole of what they would think and what they would do and what might happen, you can also enjoy the way Satoru kisses down your neck, how he gently lays you down on the floral picnic blanket and hikes up your long dress.

A bright past and a dark present.

Both of you are miles away, yes, but not together.

Satoru faces the dark present in which you’ve slipped through his fingers and into the arms of Naoya Zenin. The dark present in which you have it all, a husband, a daughter, and a house to call your own while he is simply just a lonely man in a large, empty mansion. Even when he can see the green light flashing just across the bay, you still feel far away.

Despite the distance, he’s thankful that he gets the chance to see you at all, watching his neighbor and quickly introducing himself as the owner of the house. It was one party after another after another after another and at this point he’s lost count of how many dollars were spent on this single hope—the hope that you’d show up someday and he found it in his new neighbor.

You still remember that night that you ripped off your necklace, gorgeous and costing hundreds at the least, the pearls clattering on your hardwood floors, a tear stained letter—it was all so vivid. Drowning in your own sorrow and missed opportunity, the stench of alcohol on you and your bedsheets, it was not a night you would like to remember. Mostly because it reminds you of what you could have had and stirs up feelings of regret that makes you sick to your stomach every time you see your husband.

His face, chiseled perfectly and flat hair, sharp eyes and soft lips. When you wake up in the mornings and see his face, it only brings you disappointment. But the sound of your daughter’s feet pitter pattering through the hallways somewhat makes up for it. She doesn’t look like him and you thank whatever higher power is up there that she doesn’t. With wide set eyes and chubby cheeks, you only wish her an easy life where she can do the same—be a fool—but this time, with a man she loved.

Cradling her in your arms made the dark present not so dark. And your younger cousin being nearby only brightened it up just a little bit more.

What a lovely boy, inviting you over for tea. You had missed him in the years he was gone and it would be nice to escape the house once in a while. With a simple purple dress and pearl earrings, you’re out the door and into the car. After a silent fifteen minute drive, the driver stops in front of a quaint cottage, lively green grass and flowers growing along the little columns. The area surrounding his house is perfectly neat, trimmed, and organized. Already, you can tell the interior would be pleasing to the eye.

Megumi comes out of the house, politely walking you to his door and keeping you dry as the rain poured down onto the two of you. Just as you expected, the interior is just as beautiful, varieties of flowers on almost every surface, the colors complimenting each other. You stare, admiring the whites, the yellows, and the pinks of each petal, thankful that your little cousin went to such lengths for a small visit.

“Did you ransack a greenhouse, Gumi?”

He’s silent, still at the door, but you hear a small chuckle. “You know, it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

Just as the words leave your mouth, there’s a knock on his door and goes up to answer it. You go back to admiring the flowers for a few more seconds, but you feel a presence behind you and turn around only to be met with a man in a white suit, matching his newly styled hair, blue eyes piercing through you with an intense gaze, his sunglasses in hand. You’re frozen in place and your feet are unable to lift from the ground, but he takes a few hesitant steps towards you, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to be seeing you again.”

With that, he smiles, “I’m certainly glad to be seeing you, as well.”

“It’s… beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. But how do you live here all alone?”

“I don’t. It’s always full of interesting people.”

Every single shrub is neatly trimmed, water flows gently in the fountain, flowers blooming in the garden. The mansion is huge, too big for only one person, and pristine on both the inside and the outside. The first place Satoru takes you is out on the water where you sit by him, a drink in your hand, Megumi taking pictures of the scenery and the people around him. He holds out his hand for you to hold as you try to steady yourself on the float, a drink in one hand and the other holding onto his shoulder.

“Smile.” You hear Megumi say, but you’re far too busy with Satoru tickling your sides, squirming as he coos small teases. The camera clicks, capturing the both of you in the moment.

When he brings all of you back inside his home, you���re in awe of the sparkling chandelier hanging from his ceiling, the gold lining the walls of the second floor, the sturdy architecture, shiny black and yellow floors. It’s a contrast from what you would have expected from Satoru who was once a humble soldier, plucking from your bedroom in the night and bringing you to a faraway place just to escape. You were once ready to accept the reality that status set the two of you apart, but now you wonder if it even is an issue.

But you’re old money and he’s new money.

How did he acquire all of this? His house? His clothes? The entirety of his wealth? You’re not exactly sure, but you don’t let your mind wander, opting to run up the grand white staircase, getting to the second floor only to be met with a black floor so spotless that you can see your own reflection. Along with Megumi, he follows behind you, watching every single movement and every single expression on your face. Eventually, he catches up next to you, motioning for you to follow him into a room with a single bed and another small set of stairs, rambling about where he gets his clothes.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” You reply, excitedly looking around the room where there’s countless shelves, all full of fabrics. “They’re so beautiful.”

He smiles at you from above, beginning to pull the clothing from the shelves and throwing them down for you to see. You giggle, a wide smile plastered on your face as different pinks, whites, and purples take over your vision. “Satoru, you’re gonna ruin them!”

He’s careless, letting half of his wardrobe fly out in the air and you struggle to catch them all, falling over into the bed. You’re elated, the variety of clothing making you squeal in delight as you jump onto the mattress, sitting in the middle, surrounded by fabric of different patterns and colors. You’re buried in them and he doesn’t stop until the sound of your laughter starts to die down. His chest fills with concern as he races down the stairs to comfort your disoriented figure on the bed.

Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and soon you feel his fingers come down to your chin to turn your head towards him. Although, you avoid eye contact, not wanting to confront the reality that it’s been five years. “Hey, shhh,” he coos, his voice softening, “What’s wrong, bunny?”

It’s a loaded question and you already have the answer in your head, on the tip of your tongue, but the more you think, the more you realize that there isn’t a right way to express it to Satoru. A daughter, a husband that you supposedly love, a life supported by old money. Five years away from the love of your life only for him to randomly appear back into your life during a time of stability. And even with your vague knowledge of Naoya’s mistress, you’re the perfect wife for him, foolish and obedient.

But still, your heart is drawn to Satoru—it always has been and it always will be.

“It— It makes me sad…” you reply with a meek voice, “The shirts… they’re just so beautiful.”

He chuckles, kissing the side of your head.

“Fuck! Satoru—” you squeal, his leaking tip prodding at your slit. It’s all familiar, but it doesn’t make it any easier to take him. After five years apart, you forget how big he is, veins running down the side of his pretty cock, long and heavy against your inner thigh. You’ve already lost how many times he’s made you cum on his mouth, your overstimulated cunt aching for more.

“I got you,” he mutters, rubbing your pearl in lazy circles as he pushes in, slowly filling you up inch by inch, “S-So big—”

‘“Yeah?” he coos, maintaining a bruising grip on your hips, “I’m barely halfway in. Just hold on, bunny.”

You nod, tears streaming down your face as he tries to distract with more kisses on your cheeks, gently brushing them away with his thumb. Your hole stretches to take him, splitting in half until you feel his tip kissing your cervix. His mouth latches onto your breast, his hips moving in slow strokes, his hands rubbing reassuring circles on the side of your thigh. “Such a good bunny,” he praises, “Pretty girl.”

“Mhm,” you squeak, feeling him as he starts to fasten the pace, wet squelches echoing throughout the entirety of the bedroom, “I- I missed you.”

“I missed— fuck!— you,” he replies, groaning at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. A string of drool connects his mouth to your nipple, drunk on your pussy, becoming more and more mindless as your cunt sucks him in. The pain of him stretching you out subsides, replaced by the heat building up in your lower tummy. His cock drags against your gummy walls, his fingers interlacing with yours as he fucks into you, juices flowing from your folds down to the white sheets.

“Say you love me,” he whispers against your lips, your eyes half lidded and mind empty, “Please…”

Your eyes open only slightly, making out cerulean eyes with blown out pupils, your own fingers threading through messy white hair, “I— I love you,” you reply, your mind hazy with lust, “Fuck, give it to me. Satoru, please—”

He kisses your bottom lip, knowing exactly what to do, his thrusts becoming harder and erratic, warm skin slapping against yours, balls tightening as he gets closer and closer to his high. His cock is covered in milky white and your grip on his hand tightens at the same time he can feel you squeezing around him like a vice, the coil snapping in your tummy. He brings his lips to yours, swallowing your moans.

“Hold on for a little while longer, bunny. For me, alright?”

You nod as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before fastening his pace, pounding against your cervix at a rapid speed. Drool spills from the corner of your mouth, eyes rolling back as the knot starts the build once again, your mind going numb as he blows his load into your swollen pussy, squeezing the plush of your hips.

“Love you,” he murmurs in your ear at the same time you’re ready to doze off, your post orgasm haze taking over you, “So much.” He continues, kissing your head.

“I love you, too,” you respond as he turns you to the side before interlocking your fingers together. It’s calming, it feels right and every moment eases your mind off the lost five years between the two of you. “Would you run away with me if you had the chance?”

You’re not sure if your mind is clouded with lust or if it was the feeling of finally being cherished by a man you wished you married or if every sense of rationality had already left you, but in a heartbeat, you respond easily.

“Yes.”

He presses his lips against your bare back before the both of you doze off together in a dreamless sleep.

It all feels surreal.

The last time you see Megumi, he tells you about the emptiness of the mansion, the vines growing against the walls, how the once trimmed bushes are now overgrown and you ask him to stop talking. As much as you love your little cousin, a mention of the house was just another reminder of what you could have had. It only fills you with regret and guilt.

Naoya kisses your head, but it’s not the same.

While you have your daughter to take care of, your husband to serve, it’s only natural for your mind to wander. It’s only natural for your heart to ache, your stomach to turn, your fists to clench. There’s too many questions of what if or what could have been. Would Satoru still be alive if you had followed through? Would you be happier? Did you make the right decision?

But once someone, anyone, walks into your room, reality hits you like a truck and you’re back to where you’re supposed to be. And your life isn’t horrible at all because when you snap back to reality, you snap back to green grass, the finest silks, and the pearls around your neck. You snap back to the perfect family, a strong husband that can protect you, a beautiful daughter that can live a simple life. It’s all old money, acquired not by bootlegging or running a speakeasy, but passed down through generations. While things aren’t perfect, they nearly are.

Still, what if you had taken your daughter with you, living in that huge mansion where the floors are spotless and gold lines the walls and ceilings?

Day by day, it eats at you and when moving day comes, it doesn’t get any easier. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this life—one where you had to worry about your status, one where you tied down to your family. Maybe you were perfect for it, overthinking each and every single problem that five lost years had caused you. You would forget about him one day, at least you think you would.

But you still remember cerulean eyes so clearly, round sunglasses, a pink tint on pale cheeks, soft lips, tousled ivory hair. And it hurts you every time because even after life, the image has a tug on your heart. He didn’t ever get to hear your last words to him, you weren’t there to comfort him, you didn’t even bother to attend his funeral. Megumi knows not to mention him around you, too. He keeps his filter on, processing his grief on his own.

Satoru reaches out to the green light across the bay, too afraid to go there on his own, but the hope of seeing you once again fuels the fire in his heart. He goes through the trouble of sacrificing his money and his time, replaying old scenes of you in his head and is thankful that he even made it this far, that he was even this close to calling you his. He reaches out one moment and he’s gone the next.

And the green light simply guides boats to the dock. It’s all it does anymore.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my work on other platforms.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojo smut #gojou smut #satoru gojou smut #gojou satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw size kink #tw smut #🌟 — nsfw! #🌟 — works!

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Be My Night And My Day - Part 2

Summary: Hvitserk has been your best friend since childhood, the one you can always rely on. So when you start doubting your current relationship with Sihtric, Hvitserk kindly offers to help you out….but the consequences are never what you expected. 

Pairing- Sihtric x Plus Size!Reader & Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, soft boys

Words: 3k

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @dini73 @flowers-in-your-hayr​ (lemme know if you want to be added or deleted)

Catch up with Part 1

Sunlight streamed through the window in your home, warming your skin, as you tended to the few herb pots on the window sill. A pleased grin resided on your face as you took in how the plants were thriving. They had been a gift from Queen Aslaug for your last name day. You could not wait to tell her how alive and vibrant they were….unlike your prior attempts. 

 At the sound of the door opening, you looked over your shoulder to see Sihtric come in. You smiled at him, ready to make a quip about him getting off early from training. The tease died on your tongue when you really took in his appearance. His shoulders were hunched over, like he carried the weight of the world there. Each movement, each step, was slow and deliberate as if moving through a fog. Even the couple warrior braids on one side of his head were thoroughly disheveled. You wondered what had caused him to run his hand over them so aggressively and frequently. Yet it was the frown that marred his handsome face and the distant look in his dark eyes that caused a concerned churning in your gut.  

 "Sihtric, what's wrong?" You fully turned around, dusting the little bit of dirt off your fingers. 

 Carefully, he unhooked his sword belt, moving methodically, and laid it on the table with that far off glaze still over his eyes. His soft lips were pressed together in a thin line. It was not until he began walking in your direction that he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your full frame against him. You immediately placed your arms around his neck, laying your head on his chest. Beneath your ear, you could hear his unsteady heartbeat and his shallow breathing. Internally, you attempted to quell your own fear, knowing Sihtric needed comfort right now, for whatever had caused his distress. This was the first time you had ever seen him act this way, and truthfully, it frightened you. 

 You started to massage the back of his neck with your hand, lightly squeezing and rubbing it in a way you knew soothed him. In response, his arms tightened around you, somehow drawing you even closer as if he wanted to meld your bodies into one. His head rested on yours, and for a moment you thought you heard a sniffle but you were uncertain. 

 A handful of minutes passed before you decided to break the silence. "Sihtric? What happened?"

 "I'm going to ask you a question…." he whispered, "....and I need you to answer honestly."

 "Of course."

 "Did Hvitserk and you have sex recently?"

 Immediately, you felt as if you had plunged into a frozen lake. Ice filled your veins, even as you tensed. It had been two days since Hvitserk and you slept together, and you had truly hoped that the blond prince had taken to heart your begging for him not to say anything to Sihtric. Guilt had clawed away continuously at your mind ever since Hvitserk walked out of your home, determined to find your man. But that night when Sihtric returned from guard duty, a tired smile on his face and a lingering kiss to your lips, you knew Hvitserk had not found him. So you had hoped, and prayed, that this would all blow over somehow. 

 Yet the truth was, a Pandora's box had been awakened in you. For even now, you still thought of Hvitserk in your bed, confessing his devotion to you. And you desperately wanted to make love to him again. 

 "So, he was telling the truth…." Sihtric stated blandly. His arms unwound from around your waist, then grabbed yours from around his neck and dropped them like they had physically burned him. Without another word, he stepped back away from you, creating distance that felt so much more than just physical. 

 Your heart shattered like broken pottery at your feet with the utter look of betrayal on his face. "Please, lemme ex‐‐" 

 He held his hand up, cutting you off. Your mouth audibly snapped shut. Silently, you watched him take several shallow breaths, hands on his hips, as if trying to internalize his anger and pain, to make sure he did not lash out at you. 

 At this moment though, you wish he would. Anything would be better than watching him attempt to hide his pain, his heart tearing in two. You wish he would scream at you. But this was Sihtric. He was too good, too kind, too caring to lash out at you. It only wrecked your heart even more. 

 "Sihtric, please, it was--" 

 "I trusted you." He cut you off again. A tear slid down his cheek before he hastily wiped it away. "I thought….I thought you were happy with me. I know we haven't known each other long but….I guess I should have expected this."

 "What?"

 "I have seen the way you and Hvitserk look at each other. You always explained it away as being best friends, but I know….in my gut I knew there was more to it. But I trusted you. You're the only woman besides my mother I've ever trusted….and cared for."

 Tears streamed down your cheeks and dripped onto your ample chest, a physical manifestation of the river of anguish coursing through you. "I am happy with you."

 "Then why?! I don't understand!"

 "Because….ugh, it seems so stupid now."

 "Am I not enough for you? I know he's a prince and I'm only a bastard but you said that didn't matter. Has that changed?" He took another step back, furthering the void growing between you two. 

 You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap, to just touch him and hope he felt your sorrow. But the crestfallen look on his face, the dejection in his dark eyes stayed your hand. "No, I promise." You pleaded, hoping he could hear the truth in your words. "I don't care that you're a bastard."

 "Then why?!" He demanded, another tear rolling down his cheek. "Why would you do that? To me? To us?!"

 "Because I thought you were going to leave me!" You cried out. There it was. The painful truth. You never expected him to truly stay. But once you got a taste of him, knew what it was like to be cherished….you never wanted to let him go. 

 His eyes widened and mouth opened slightly as he took in your words. "What?" 

 This time it was you who stepped away. You turned your back on him, your stomach churning and for a moment you worried you might vomit. "I've seen you talking lately more with the shieldmaidens, laughing with them, training with them…."

 "So, it is jealousy? You decided to get back at me by letting Hvitserk fuck you?" He accused. 

 "No!" You whipped back around, frustration and sorrow creating an explosive concoction in your heart. "Gods! That's not…."

 "What is it then?"

 "I figured you were talking to them because you disliked having sex with me and were looking for someone….new. Someone who would be more interesting and knowledgeable and….and prettier. Just, someone not like me."

 This time he looked utterly destroyed after your explanation. "What?"

 "Why else would you be leaving immediately after we have sex? Or….or stay out so late? I just thought I was becoming boring to you….which I understand…."

 "And Hvitserk?"

 You shrugged. "He offered to help try and boost my confidence….in the bedroom….hopefully that would make you want to stay. I didn't know he had….feelings until after."

 He scrubbed his hands over his face as he heaved a deep sigh. Turning, he placed his hands on the back of a nearby chair as if to ground himself.

 "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sihtric." You mumbled through your tears, as you pressed a hand to your mouth, desperately trying to suppress the sobs rising up in your throat. "Please just….I'm so sorry."

 He shook his head, his voice morose. To your surprise, he chuckled darkly before speaking again. "No, I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

 "What? No…." 

 He turned around, a wetness on his cheeks that had not been there prior. "I should have told you….I just…." His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

 "Sihtric? What? Told me what?"

 "I love you!" He blurted out. 

 All the air vanished from your home. Your lungs struggled to expand, leaving your mouth gaping open. A kick to the chest from a horse would have been less painful than his admission. You could only stare at him as his declaration bounced around in your brain but refused to settle. "You….you do?"

 Slowly he walked over and tenderly held your hands in his, the battle-hardened calluses a contradiction from your own soft hands. Those dark eyes you loved stayed focused on your clasped hands as he spoke softly. "I know we haven't been together long….but I've known it for a while. You're special. Before you I never wanted to open up, trust was something that was hard. A quick fuck was easy, but to linger, to find myself wanting to hold you in my arms all night, to see your sleepy, sated face in the morning light. That was new. And it scared me. Somehow you changed all that. The more time we spent together, the more I hated to be away from you. That's how I knew….that's how I knew I loved you."

 "Why did you never say anything?"

 He chuckled, thumbs rubbing on the back of your hands. "I almost did. Gods, so many times. After we'd make love. Sometimes in the morning, seeing you laying in our bed. When I'd come back from training or guard duty and you'd greet me with that sweet smile on your face and a kiss….so many times I had to bite my tongue to keep the words from spilling forth."

 Everything clicked in that moment. And if it was possible for your heart to shatter even more, yours surely had. "That's why you would leave….it wasn't because you didn't like me…."

 "Never."

 "Sihtric, I love you too." You choked out amidst a sob. "I wish you had said something."

 "I couldn't."

 "Why not?"

 Finally, he raised his eyes to meet yours, a smile full of hopelessness on his lips. "Because I knew Hvitserk was in love with you, just as much as you're in love with him."

 "But…."

 "I know you always said you're best friends, but it's obvious to anyone who looks past the facade. There was always more underneath. The way you two gravitate to each other, the lingering looks and touches, the comfortability there….I always figured I was just someone to pass the time with, until the two of you finally confessed to one another. I just never expected it would be my fault that it'd finally happen."

 "Oh Sihtric, I'm so sorry." You cried, no longer able to restrain your sobs. Sihtric pulled you against him, letting you bury your head against his broad chest as you bled out your heartache. With the way his chest rose and fell rapidly and the wetness against your hair, you knew he was silently crying with you. For the miscommunication. For the betrayal. For all the unspoken hopes and dreams both of you had carried, now trampled and laying broken at your feet. 

 After some time, when both of your tears subsided, you continued to cling to one another like that would somehow stem the outpouring of your bleeding hearts. 

 The dark-haired Viking broke the silence tainted with misery. "He said he wanted to fight me. For you. Over you. How he can't live without you now….and will do anything to have you."

 "Will you?" You cautiously asked, face still pressed to his wet tunic. "Will you fight him?"

 "Do you want me too?" 

 You lifted your head, wanting to see his face as you answered. "I don't want you to fight. Either one of you. I'm not….I'm not worth it."

 "You're worth everything." He replied, cupping your cheek so tenderly it caused a fresh wave of tears to fill your eyes. 

 "Sihtric….please don't. I couldn't bear it if you got hurt….either one of you."

 "Then you need to decide."

 Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath catching. "What do you mean?"

 "Y/n, my love…." He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, collecting the evidence of your sorrow. "You have to choose one of us."

 You shook your head. "I don't….I can't….Sihtric."

 His thumb continued to run along your cheek as he gazed at you, a swirl of emotions in his eyes that pierced you like an arrow. After a long moment, he nodded and dropped his hand. "I'll leave. Let you think in peace. Just know….whatever your decision, I'll respect it." 

 "Sihtric…." You begged, but what more could you say?

 After pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he released you from his strong arms. He stared at you helplessly, further shredding any remnants of your heart left. With that, he quickly turned and walked away, snatching his sword belt off the table, not even bothering to take the time to put it on before he was out the door. 

 Soon as the door softly closed behind him, you dropped to the ground with soul-wracking sobs. 

 It was selfish, you knew. There were two handsome, perfect men both asking for your devotion, both desiring you, both wanting you to choose them over the other. How could you possibly choose? You wanted them both. Needed them both. It was so selfish. 

 But it was the gods-forsaken truth. 

 ***** 

 You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

 And the next night, when Sihtric did not return home. 

 Hvitserk found you the next morning, still lying in bed. Your throat was hoarse from all your crying and your eyes felt permanently dry and red-rimmed. Curled under your furs in your thin shift, the desire to leave your warm nest was nonexistent. Food and drink had barely passed your lips. You knew it was all your own fault. Yet you wallowed in your misery, unable to escape its tenacious pull. Your thoughts swirled like a cyclone in your mind, a force of destruction you could not flee from. No matter how much you wanted to.  

 For how could you choose one over the other? 

 Without a word, he crawled into the bed with you, tucking your body against his in a warm embrace. Without a second thought you melted against him, desperate for the safe haven he provided in the stormy seas of your mind. Your full figure snuggled against his lean form in a way that was effortless, like your bodies were made for this embrace. Exhausted from your lack of sleep and excessive crying, it did not take long for you to drift in and out of sleep, sniffling pathetically when awake. He never commented on your deplorable state of being, just held you tight, an anchor in your waves. 

 "My sweet," Hvitserk kissed the top of your head as he soothingly ran a hand up and down your back, "don't cry. The Norns will decide."

 "Please don't fight him, please Hvitserk. I couldn't take it if either of you were injured."

 "Hmmm….what did he say?"

 You sniffled pathetically, throat raw as you spoke. "He said I had to choose."

 "And?" He encouraged quietly. 

 "Oh, Serk, I'm so selfish." You lamented, gripping the front of his tunic, now ruined by your tears. "Thor strike me down! I can't. I can't choose. I love you both. Gods, I'm so selfish."

 This would be the reason for him to walk away. You were sure of it. Even after all of your years of friendship, you were unable to choose him over your lover, someone you had only known for two years. Why would the blond prince stay? There were plenty of women who would willingly fill his bed. Why would he waste his time on someone like you?

 And Sihtric. Someone who clearly gave you their all- their trust, their love, their hopes and dreams. Surely, he could easily find someone new. Someone better than you. Why would he fight for you?

 How selfish were you to hurt both of these men you loved….and for some reason they loved you too. 

 Suddenly, you felt him nuzzle your hair. "You love me?" He whispered. 

 "Yes."

 He hummed, a hand drawing random patterns on your back as if in thought. "And you love him?"

 "Yes." You choked out, a fresh wave of remorse and self-loathing crashing over you. 

 Gently, he tipped your face up to draw you into a kiss. A soft press of mouths, urging you to respond, to sink into the comfort he so willingly offered. You clung to him as your lips moved in tandem, seeking the momentarily solace provided. 

 You pulled back eventually, opening your eyes to meet his green orbs. "Serk?"

 "It'll all work out, beautiful. You'll see." He assured with a smile, drawing you back to his sweet lips. 

 Even with his confident words, you were left unsure if you could believe him. 

 Or if your fractured heart could even try. 

Part 3

#mzwrites #to be my night and my day #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings imagine #hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk x you #hvitserk x plus size reader #Hvitserk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #Sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x you #sihtric x plus size reader

[whoacanada]

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year —  a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees —  Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother. 

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute. 

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle —  but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

.

#zimbits #jack / bitty #omgcp #check please #my fic #my stuff #lost zimmermann brother au #bob's got another kid and I named him andrew again! #kent is not a bad guy #only carly is a bad guy and we hate him #long post #because it's a mini fic!

[itsthestutterforme]

Not As It Seems 1/2 (Vincenzo)

Summary: Y/N and Vincenzo grew up in the Mafia. You owed him for saving your ass on a mission gone wrong. It's always been that way between you two. You save his hide, he saves yours. He wants you to stay undercover and find your way into Babel Pharmaceuticals as an extra pair of eyes to find out who the CEO of Babel was. But as normal, mission does not go as planned.

Pairings: Vincenzo x reader (platonic), Joon woo (romantic)

--

Given, you Vincenzo did save your ass big time the last mission you were on but the magnitude of this favor was worth three small ones. Regardless, you are a woman of my word. You were about a month in you cover when you caught the eye of Jang Han seo.

You started as a tech at his floor but once he found out that you loved to play ice hockey and spicy foods, he fell head first in love with you. It did not take much for him to fall for you, which was actually heart breaking. You treated him with respect and kindness, something that he wasn't used to by anyone.

The first date was at a spicy ramen shop where you talked all night until the shop was closed. The second date was at his condo where we watched the live ice hockey game while you ate spicy kimchi. By the third date, you were comfortable being around one another. You ended the date with a long, much needed hug.

In the Mafia, you weren't used to affection and Jang Han seok was verbally and physically abused by his mother and brother. You held each other for at least a minute straight. You can still remember him burying his face into your neck as you wrap your arms around his medium build.

His hands rested respectfully on your upper back and shoulder blades. When you finally pulled away, you both bowed and said thank you. You bowed at the same time, hitting each other in the head.

You chuckle in rememberance of that date. Jang Han seo was truly a good guy. He wasn't capable of doing the horrific things Cassano was telling me about. He didn't have the heart for it, so there has to be someone else calling the shots. Someone close enough to be whispering commands into Han seo's ear. You just have to figure out who.

You knock on the door and wait for a while, winging you purse side to side as you waited. You furrowed your brows when you Han seo doesn't open the door. "Han seo?" You call from outside and still no answer. It wasn't until you heard a gun shot that you kicked the door down and tumbled inside.

You take out your knife and round the corner until you saw Han seo crouching down on the floor in front of his gun. You look around for the threat but didnt see any. "Han seo?" You say, tucking away your knife. You kneel down next to him and his body jolts upwards. "What!" "Honey, what happened?"

"I ca- I can't tell you." "Why not?" "Because I can't! You're an outsider and he'll kill me." "Who?" "He ruins everything he touches." He says, running a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, but we can't see each other anymore. " "What? What is this about? Who says we can't be together?"

"Me, I say I can't. Just go!" He yells, making you wince. His eyes were red and puffy, he's clearly been cryibg. You hold his face in your hands and press a warm kiss to his forehead. "You know where to find me." You say before silently stand up and leaving. Closing the door, you let out a shaky breath.

You knew this was bound to happen but you got too caught up in the moments with Han seo. But at least now you can distance yourself and find a different approach on finding who the real CEO is. You walk towards your car and say to yourself to keep it together but as you as you hop in, tears fell on your cheeks.

"Damn it, Y/N. Pull yourself together." You say between sobs. You turn on the car and throw it into drive before pulling out of his driveway. You always made fun of those who fell in love while they were undercover, and now you feel like a hipocrite. You pull into your driveway to see Joon woo with a crate of rice wine.

You roll your eyes and tried your best to dry your tears but your eyes still gave it away. "How did you hear so fast?" You ask, getting out of your car. "My brother and I are close, and he really cared about you." "Well he sure has a way of showing it," you say, wiping away more tears.

"Come on, let's drink away our sorrows." He says and you genty take the crate into your hands. "Awe, where's yours?" You tease. He chuckles whole heatedly and says, "That's cute." "You can wait in the living room. I have to take a shower first." "Sure thing,"

Later that week, Joon woo has been stopping over your house every Friday night to check in on you. You were actually starting to get used to it. Today was Friday and he didn't come. You waited until 11 pm to go over his house and check in on him. You knock on the door and Joon woo opens it with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You fix your eyes on his face but there was a deep temptation to look elsewhere. "Y/N, hi," "Have you no manners? If you make plans with someone and can't make it, you can at least call." "I didn't know that it would urk you this bad. I'm sorry." You cross your arms and roll your eyes. "I was in the middle of shower, did you want to join me?"

"Excuse me?" "You seem a little tense." He leans his body arm against the door frame and his towel dips a little. "What if I am?" "Oh, I have a few things in mind." He says, his eyes slowly scanning your body. He leans forward and lift your chin up to plant a firm, possessive kiss on your lips.

You collapse onto his chest and he pulls you inside his loft. He closes the door before pushing you against it, his hands attached to your waist as he kisses your neck. Leaning you head against the door, he dips his head into your breasts and slides his hand into your shorts.

You gasp softly as he curls his fingers into your folds. Slowly pumping his fingers, you can feel his gaze on you. "Such a pretty girl. Can't wait for feel you clenching around my dick." He says, making you whimper.

"Move faster, please." You beg and it took him less than a second to speed up his movements. You dig your nails into his back and you spread you legs to give him more access.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks some of your juices off. "What happened?" You say breathlessly. "You're not loud enough." He kneels down on the ground and pulls down you shorts to your ankles.

You step out of them and he says, "Look at that beautiful pussy of yours, baby." You two lock eyes as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and slowly licks the stripe.

Your hands find his hair and tug on it softly as he sinks his tongue and pumps it in out of your pussy. You moan loudly when he pumps two fingers in you and applies pressure to your clit with his tongue.

The more he rolls his tongue, the stronger the build up in your stomach was. Your clit grew sensitive under his touch and your tried to pull away from him.

He scratch your thighs harshly and you yelp out. His fingers curl into a g spot and you slam your hand against the door. "Oh God," you chant until your felt apart under his tongue. He continued to lick and suck at your sensitive clit, making your breaths turn heavy.

"Joon, please! I'm so close!" You yell out. He rolls tongue against you and softly sucked repeatedly. Soon after, you fell apart again and you legs bucked. You fell to the ground and he catches your abdomen. He cups your cheeks and pressed a firm kiss on your lips. Your juices rubbed from his lips to yours as he invades your mouth.

You were breathless as he pulls away from your lips. He lifts you into his arms and stands up effortlessly. He lips were attached to yours the entire trip up the stairs and to his bedroom. You pull away to take off your shirt and unclip your bra.

You hear his towel drop and you buck your hips in anticipation. He lowers your body and slowly pushes his member into you.

You throw you head back and he sucks on the base of your neck. He bucks his hips and your wraps your legs around his waist to pulls him further into you. Rolling your hips to match his thrusts, he says, "Fuck, Y/N." Still buried inside of you, he lays you on the bed. He brings your legs over his shoulder and yells escape your lips with his heavy thrusts.

He lifts his hand and you links your fingers with his as he rails you into the bed. Your eyes are snapped shut as your walls flutter around his member. You bury you face into his shoulder as your rub your throat raw from yelling. "Look at me, " he commands.

You pull away from his shoulder and look into his eyes. "There's my pretty girl." He leans his forehead against yours as he slows his thrusts to chase his euphoria. You reach yours soon after and he pulls out of you. "Top me," "What?" You look at him through hooded eyes.

"I want you to see how beautiful you look on top," "I don't have enough strength for that, Joon." "Yes you do. Just one more time and I'll let you rest for the rest of the night." He lays on his back and you instruct him to sit up against the bed frame. He does so and doesn't break eye contact.

You softly pump his member in your hand until he's fully erected and sink yourself on him. You plant your foot on either side of his lap and rock your hips back and forth. His moans makes your pussy wet and sink further on him. You lean forward and bite on his lower lip. "Fuck, you keep doing that and I'll have my way with you for the entire night."

He arches his back as you scratch up his back. You roll your hips a little faster and his body goes rigid as his second wave of euphoria washed over him. You slide off of his lap and lay down on your stomach. You tuck your arms under the pillow as you lay on it. Joon lays on his side and draws circles on your back.

He waits until you were asleep but you were quite unconscious when he says, "I knew it was the right call to make Han seo break up with you."

#vincenzo #kdrama fanfic #kdramas