#<- that sentence should have been in past tense but that made me sad

[tonhalszendvics]

Second or third cousins getting married is legal in most places. How does that thing work with descendants? I mean, it's kinda problematic when a great-great-grandparent gets together with one of their -great-great-grandchild, but what about immortals? Is there a line or boundary there or do they have to keep their whole family tree in mind when they start dating?

[theonewhospeaksinweird]

~💜💙Night Stroll (Katakuri x Fem!Reader)💜💙~

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted)

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal

A/N: It seems every time I try to write a short one-shot story about my mochi man, it always snowballs into a bigger idea with more exposition than needed, hehe.~ I'm not apologizing, but I love seeing these prompts from @daily-prompts that give me ideas!~ This one in particular gave me this idea, so I hope you enjoy!~ There are many stories in progress in my drafts, though.~

"I hope you know the rumors surrounding me are true." Came the rumbling voice of my boyfriend as we walked along the cold, deserted streets of New World city.

My humming paused in favor of wracking my brain to pinpoint exactly what he was talking about. The sudden change of mood from peaceful silence to this tense seriousness stalled my mind to switch gears. And here I thought we were having a nice walk to our apartment.

"I have absolutely no idea what your talking about, Kata."

"Don't lie to me. This relationship won't go anywhere if we feed each other sweet lies to satiate our worries."

Always the realist, this one. I rolled my eyes and sighed, reaching my mittened hands to hold his bare one with a squeeze of reassurance.

"I don't care-"

"You should care because I do. I care about you, us, as much as I would like not to."

Although I knew what he meant by those words, it still kind of hurt to hear that he wish he didn't have feelings for me. If I wasn't already used to his factual speech pattern, I would've been more upset, maybe even dumped him on the spot.

The telltale sign that told me otherwise, though, was the gentle squeeze he gave my hands back. Also, the fact that I could actually see the downturn of his scarred mouth as he stared ahead, worrying thoughts swirling around his head in a mess of responsibility and guilt, no doubt. I was one of the only people he kept his mask off for.

We were both silent as his sentence hung in the air, my lack of words being so I could find the right ones to try and soothe his overworked psyche. It took a few moments, but I figured out how I wanted to approach this.

"When we first met, I thought you were a rich, pretentious fuckboy that threw money at his problems and wasn't serious about college."

His eyebrows furrowed into his infamous scowl as those beautiful ruby eyes slid over to me who just smirked back at him.

"You weren't too jolly yourself."

"Yeah, well you and your giant tits spilled hot coffee all over me on my way to class." He just rolled his eyes and scoffed a little.

"You should've been paying attention. The world doesn't always move for you, ma'am."

"I'm pretty sure in your case it was the fact that you couldn't see me around all the whores throwing themselves at your dick."

"I didn't ask them to be there."

"You didn't tell them to go away either."

"Is there a point to your sudden judgy reminiscing?"

"Maybe, if you would let me finish!"

A subdued grunt emanated from the back of his throat as he narrowed his gaze down at me before flicking it to stare at the buildings we walked past like a guard dog. Although the reaction was tenser than I hoped, I kept with my anecdote.

Katakuri didn't seem to want to pay attention to me anymore, so I pulled on his hand to make him stop. More like, let him know I wanted him to stop since he could easily keeping walking with me hanging off him like a koala. He did as I wanted, and stopped with a small huff but still didn't return his attention to me.

"Anyways. Like I was saying. You were an asshole to me even when it was mostly your fault. But you made it right by getting my clothes cleaned and writing me a check for a severe overestimation of how much the class I missed was worth. Thank you for the new outfits I used that money for, by the way."

That response actually drew a dry, one-off laugh from him as he turned to face me more, those tantalizing eyes focused entirely on me now with less of a bite. The addicting feeling of knowing I was worthy enough for him to look at me with that enraptured look in his eyes had my knees weak. I always felt so special when he put all his energy into paying attention to what I was saying or doing. Every time felt like I was experiencing something no one else got to have and I wanted to hide him away like a precious gem.

I flushed a bit at my own awe but continued with a clear of my throat. Despite the action, my next words brought a thickness to my throat that I couldn't shake as I recalled memories that now made my heart hurt.

"We didn't cross paths again until I saw you lying in that alley all bloody and beat up, two months later. You didn't want me to call an ambulance, stupidly enough, and I was panicked out of my mind trying to figure out whether I should leave for my own safety or stay and help you."

A pained smile turned my lips up as I stared at his hand in mine, remembering how bruised it was that night. I could almost see the old purples and greens flashing over his now reddened knuckles. The sting of unshed tears was attempted to be blinked away as I pushed myself to keep talking.

"And I chose to stay and help you. I chose you that night. I have every day since then no matter who whispers in my ear about what you've done. Despite all the warnings I've gotten from teachers. Even through the time when I was getting scary, cryptically threatening things in my mailbox telling me to leave you!"

I could feel his grip on my hands tighten as he took in an abrupt breath at the last part. His other hand moved to hold my elbow and tug me a little closer, but I kept my head bowed. Until now, I hadn't mentioned the threatening letters and parcels I had gotten in the mail a few months ago because I didn't want him to worry while he was taking his bar exam and finals. They eventually stopped and nothing bad came from them, so I never told him about it.

"You never told me that. What did they say? Did they have a name or return addre-?"

His touch trailed from my arm to cup my face, searching me as if I had been physically hurt. Although I melted into his touch at first, I remembered I was trying to make a point and reached up to silence his rush of words when I finally looked him in the eye.

"Just be quiet! Yes, I was being threatened. By whom? I don't know, but that's not the point right now. You can lecture me later about not telling you stuff, but right now I'm telling you something. Reminding you that if I wanted to leave because someone told me to, I would've done so by now."

I could feel his abnormally sharp canines poking at my fingers as I held my hand over his mouth but kept my hand in place until I was done talking. He seemed a bit startled I had done that, though thankfully not angry. It's only been a few months since he started taking his mask off with me and even less that I could touch his mouth or lower face as I wanted.

Katakuri's eyes lowered to look at my hand as I pulled it away before claiming my gaze once again, a widened look of surprise still lingering as he spoke. The surprise turned to a sheepish guilt as his head ducked a bit in shame like a kicked puppy. The action made me feel a little guilty for raising my voice, but he was very stubborn.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize that was going on. I wish I could've helped." I wanted to nip that self sabotaging talk in the bud but he continued before I could say a word.

"I'm also sorry that I seemed like I was making this decision for you or pushing you away. I just want what's best for you because I love you and can't help but feel you'd be better off not mixed up in my family drama."

The barely concealed insecurity that crinkled his brow as he spoke finally spilled my tears down my cheeks. I let go of his hand in favor of wrapping my arms tight around him the best I could with my face buried in his chest. Not wanting to full on sob like a child, I just let out a watery whine and vigorously wiped my tears away on his sweater with shakes of my head to silently answer his worries.

Katakuri's arms had immediately wrapped around me, hugging me closer than close as I reigned in my emotions. His warmth was such a contrast to the cold that nipped at every part of me not enclosed in his embrace that I didn't want to leave it. I could hear and feel his heart beating fast, another hidden tell that he was feeling more emotional than his exterior let on.

When I felt that I was calm enough to talk again, I lifted my face from his chest to look up at him. He was already looking at me with such a soft and devoted gaze that made me want to pull him down and kiss him into submission. I restrained myself from doing so if only to respect his desire to keep public affection to a minimum.

He was thinking about something, and I wished I could hear what went on behind those fierce eyes. Once again, I melted under his reverent attention, drinking it up like a thirsty flower in the middle of summer. To get rid of that hard ridge between his brows, I decided to lighten the conversation again.

"I'm better off wherever you are, no matter what that entails. And if I won't fuck off when your self-proclaimed fan club come around trying to "win you back" while I'm gone for a week, then I'm definitely not going anywhere just cause you said so. You're stuck with me, donut man." A smile made its way onto my wet face as I stuck my tongue out in jest.

That beautiful smile that was as radiant as a sunset showed itself as my boyfriend chuckled at my claim. It was as if God Himself sculpted this man, and here I was with my tongue sticking out like a bozo. If my eyes could turn to stars, they would as I was entranced in his gravitational pull. My heart tugged toward his while my stomach did summersaults with my gut. The bubbling of loving emotions boiled in my chest to push a giggle of my own out, unable to stop the expression.

"Okay, I get it. We'll go through this together."

He settled quicker than I did and brought his hand to my face to wipe away the drying tear tracks from my cheeks. The cold we stood in made the wetness feel worse, making me sniffle to stop my nose from running. My head leaned into his touch with a hum, nodding in response.

"Good. Now that that's all cleared up, let's get inside! It's cold and my extremities are gonna fall off! Since you kept us out here, you're responsible for warming me back up. Hot cocoa and warm donuts are the only way, experts say." Like before, all it took was a tug on his arm to get him to move like I wanted. The street was still dark and quiet, the only sound being the echoing of our footsteps. In that quiet, I heard four words that never failed to stretch the widest smile possible on my face.

"I love you, Y/n."

I kept tugging him forward but turned around to face my towering lover. My lips found his cold knuckles with a kiss.

"I love you too, Katakuri."

I'd do anything to hear those words from him for the rest of our lives, so I'd better see a ring on a certain finger soon enough.

A/n: I've been feeling a modern mob boss au, so there might be more blurbs for this line of thought in the future.~

[konako]

(*･ω･)ﾉ”┌iii┐♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! 

Here, have a silly little Red Snow scene. We are at the Welcome Back Party in S2. (Ah, look at sad!Regina in the background.)

Ruby walked into the back towards the bathrooms, even though she didn’t need to go. She just wanted a minute away from the others. Because she felt like she was clinging to Snow… Mary Margaret… oh this was a problem. Having her back brought this thing up again. How they hadn’t been friends. Until recently maybe. Ruby knew where she was in the process of bringing Ruby and Red together, and it wasn’t exactly hard, but what about Snow?

“Hey.”Ruby turned away from the window and saw Snow. “Hey yourself.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” Ruby looked down the hall. “You saw me going towards the toilets and wondered if I need help? Maybe I don’t want to know every detail of your trip back home or the things you had to show Emma.”

Snow laughed as she got closer. “Don’t remind me. I missed indoor plumbing.” She stopped in front of Ruby and put her hands on her upper arms. “I missed you.” 

Ruby leaned forward so their foreheads touched. “Missed you, too.”

“I need you to tell me everything that went on while we were gone. I’m sure David will leave some things out.” Snow’s voice was only a low whisper. 

Ruby closed her eyes and matched her tone. “He was devastated the portal closed right in his face, you know. We needed him here, but the thought of you two being split up again was awful.”

“David said you helped him to keep it together.”

“That was mutual.”

“I know that I missed a full moon…” Snow let the sentence linger. Ruby debated with herself how much she should reveal. This being a joyous getting back together party. But the way her shoulders tensed up at the mention probably gave away a lot already.

Ruby took a step back and leaned against the window frame. “First of all I want to say I’m sorry that my whole wolf thing helped Regina to frame you, or Mary Margaret, for murder. You know, finding the heart and all.”

Snow playfully rolled her eyes. “Bygones. It all worked out. And hey, I know, if your wolf thing had been in full force, you would have known that wasn’t a human heart right away.” They both laughed. Even though this simple truth was rooted in a dark place. Red knew the smell of blood. Human blood. And the small differences between that and various animals.

“Anyway, I’m bringing that up, because I had my own little accusation arc and you probably won’t be very proud of me when you hear the full story.” Snow raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, but settled in next to Ruby, eager to listen. “King George, I mean Spencer, he had it out for David–”

“He said he was dealt with. No longer a threat.”

“Yes. But it was a hard earned victory. He killed Billy.”

“Mechanic Billy?”

“Yes.”

“Billy is dead?”

“Yes. And for a moment I believed I did that.”

“Oh, Red…” Just hearing her name coming out of Snow’s mouth made it all real again. The fear of hurting others, killing innocent people, murdering a loved one - the past was locked up in the way Snow put compassion into addressing her. The hand reaching up touching her shoulder didn’t help.

“So, hey, I was framed for murder, too. One more for sharing experiences. Although I fully believed I did it and that the mob had a right to chase me…”

“A mob? In Storybrooke? Like going after Regina? All torches and pitchforks? Are there even that many pitchforks here?”

“Surprisingly…”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to yell at you for being stupid.”

Ruby chuckled. “There were people trying to step up.”

“I wonder what Mulan would think about a whole town chasing a wolf around.”

“Mulan? Dressing-as-a-guy-to-defeat-an-evil-army-Mulan?”

 “Yes, that one.”

“I love that movie. Huh. How unfair. Did she-”

“There was no little dragon.”

“How disappointing.” Ruby faked a little pout. “Well, I collected a new Disney princess myself. Turns out Belle is real, too.”

“Oh, don’t tell me she is the reason I saw the open library earlier.” Snow smirked. “Was she with you that night?”

“Huh?”

Snow hit Ruby in the side with her elbow. “When you wolfed out. Did you two have a little Beauty and the Beast moment?”

“What?” Ruby’s laugh was forced, nervousness shining through as if she had been caught. Although she was unsure doing what. “Well, yes, I mean, no, I chained her up in the library.”

Snow looked at Ruby. Blinking slowly. “I think we need to start at the beginning.”

“There you are!” David interrupted the two. “Please don’t make me look for you at a party about finding back to each other.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Snow got up and pulled Ruby along by the hand. “Red just told me something about chains, maybe she can help.”

[lilmackiereads]

A Kinda-Sorta Live Review of “The Girl on the Train” (2015) by Paula Hawkins Pt 1

SO, the version of this novel that I have is 323 pages, and nearly a third of the way through I thought to myself I should really be live-reacting to this. Alas, I don’t want to stream myself reading this book out loud in my leopard-print snuggie, but I can type my thoughts on the chapters as I go since I love to write. 

I have been taking notes on my phone full of my hypotheses and reactions toward plot points, character development, and sassy dialogue/ inner-monologue. If you are a fan of the book or film and want to see if I can solve the mystery as I go, cool! There will be plenty of spoilers below. 

I found this novel a month or two back in a Little Free Library in Boise, Idaho and I remember seeing the trailer for the film. I haven’t watched the movie, but I remember thinking that the trailer seemed like a rip-off of Rear Window (1954) so I thought I would pass. However, the fact that the gorgeous and talented Emily Blunt is the lead is urging me to give it a shot if I like the book. When reading the synopsis and spoiler-free reviews, I saw that the book was compared to Gone Girl which is one of my favorite mystery-thriller novels and films. 

Blog Live React Part 1 is separated into the following 4 parts (pages 00 to 27)

Paragraph One - Narrator Not Revealed -- pg 00

Paragraph Two - Narrator Not Revealed -- pg 0 

Rachel - Friday July 5th, 2013 to Thursday July 11th, 2013 -- pgs 1-15

Megan -- One Year Earlier -- Wednesday May 16th, 2012 to Tuesday September 25, 2012 -- pgs 16-27

----

Paragraph One - Narrator Not Yet Revealed (pg 00)

Beginning with the sentence “She’s buried beneath a silver birch tree, down towards the old train tracks, her grave marked with a cairn.” I was immediately sucked in! Since the Narrator for this passage has still not been revealed 100 pages in, my guess is that it is probably Rachel because she is “the girl on the train” and the first Narrator we meet. I like that you can’t tell the Narrator’s sex or background relation to the victim from the paragraph; it makes it much more mysterious.

Paragraph Two - Narrator Not Yet Revealed (pg 0)

Even before the Narrator finished the rhyme, I knew they were talking about magpies. They are usually considered a symbol of melancholy which is really nailing in the spooky and sad undertone of the story before we’ve even committed to page one. There is a chapter early on in the book that is narrated by Megan that mentions magpies, which made me think this was her narrating. But on second thought I’m wondering if it’s Rachel or Drunk Rachel since she is wrapped up in the idea of motherhood. “Now look what you made me do.” The italics is a nice touch. Is this the killer doing a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing?

-----

Rachel - Friday July 5th, 2013 to Thursday July 11th, 2013

--- From this point on I will write just based on the text presented at the time without reference to future chapters. These notes are based on the notes I took on my phone while reading the book. ---

* Friday July 5th, 2013 (pgs 1-3)

A couple things I notice right out of the gate are that this is summertime and it’s on a Friday. A lot of people who work Monday to Friday are, in my opinion, less aware of their mundane surroundings on Fridays and Mondays because they are thinking about starting the work week or their weekend plans. The fact that Rachel is very attuned to detail tells me that she is very sensitive to change, is really nosy, or is very bored (or a combination of all three.)

I connected with Rachel very quickly when she mentioned her “overactive imagination” when trying to give a backstory to the abandoned clothes. I tend to personify or imagine scenarios due to my interest in true-crime and overly-anxious personality. 

Rachel mentions her Mother and Tom right away. Is he her husband/ boyfriend? Ex? Brother? Can’t be a parent or grandparent because she would call them “Dad” or “Grandpa Tom.” Also, she uses past tense “said.” Is she estranged from them both? Or maybe they’re dead? DID SHE KILL THEM? No murder victims have been found yet, but I’m just waiting for it to happen.

Rachel keeps personifying the loneliness of the clothes. Can you say “projecting my problems instead of acknowledging them?” She also personifies the houses by saying “their backs turned squarely to the track” (2). Who left this woman so broken? Part of me wants to give her a hug and the other part wants to take her to therapy.

Oof... she’s drinking a lot to forget Tom. What did he do, sis? At least she’s not drinking before work...

*Monday July 8th, 2013 (pgs 3-6)

Man, she is living for work and routine. Very few people that I know who think that it’s a “relief” (3) to be back on their M-F schedule. Now that she’s introducing “Jess and Jason” I find it kind of endearing... and creepy. I have favorite houses that I pass by and I like to people watch, too. However, projecting onto them as “perfect, golden couple” (4) is only going to bring her pain when they move away or she actually meets them and find that they have human flaws like everyone else. 

Ah, there’s the mention of Tom. Definitely a romantic partner then. 

OOOH, she is drinking again. And on a Monday night? How does she get on the train at 8am every day without a hangover? Does she just have a major tolerance? If alcoholism is her baseline how much can I trust her narrative?

Ok, imagining Jason’s hands on her shoulders is not just spooky, but also a bit sad. Girl needs to move on from Tom. I’d feel bad though if Tom died and that’s why she’s drinking. 

*Tuesday July 9th, 2013 (pgs 6-9)

Aw, it’s sad that she lost her home. Especially her first true place on her own.

Who is this Anna chick? I already don’t like her.

I feel like I know too many Controlling Cathys and I HATE that feeling like a guest in your own house (whether you own it or pay rent). I’ve been there too many times throughout college. At the same time though, is Cathy actually controlling or is Rachel just projecting this controlling personality onto Cathy because she feels like her own life is out of control? 

“I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head” (9). I have only known Rachel for ten minutes and I need to adopt her and tell her it’s going to be ok. 

*Wednesday July 10, 2013 (pgs 9-11)

How would she know that Jason is a doctor? He could be working retail for all she knows (not a diss; I work retail). She really has a thing for the strong-male-savior-types, doesn’t she?

She’s describing Jess and her “bold prints and her Converse trainers” (9) and how edgy and quirky she is. It’s making me not like Jess as much because she’s projecting the Amy Elliot Dunne’s “Cool-Girl” philosophy onto her. I used to want to be Cool-Girl for so long as a teen and now it makes me wanna gag. Thanks, Amy for showing me the light of how lame and over-idolized the “Cool-Girl” concept is (like Manic-Pixie-Dreamgirl, just for the male gaze...)

I feel bad for Rachel on her way home sitting across from the well-dressed man. Her self-esteem is shot and she really projects these feelings of self-loathing onto anyone who even looks at her when they probably don’t really have an opinion of her. It’s sad, too, that her roommate doesn’t stand up for her and just lets her boyfriend poke fun at her. She’s clearly depressed.

*Thursday July 11, 2013 (pgs 11-15)

It took me a while to realize that “plaster” is British for “bandage.” 

I feel a little embarrassed because like Rachel, I literally cut myself a couple days ago while cooking and had to lay down cuz I got woozy. I probably would have fallen asleep, too, if my boyfriend wasn’t there to clean my finger and bandage me. I’m a little wimpy. What a waste of steak. :(

Girl, don’t drink on an empty stomach. Alcohol is not your friend!

Ok... don’t drink on an empty stomach and call your ex!!!!

She called him FOUR times and left TWO messages? Kill me now.

Wow, it’s almost like these very specific instances of getting drunk and humiliating herself in front of her husband, strangers, friends, and her boss are real. Oh wait, they are. Her denial is so strong that I had to read the section twice to realize they were memories and not made up. Girl needs anger management sessions if she went after her husband with a golf club. I wonder if he provoked it in any way? Not saying that makes it ok, but it makes me think HE HAD IT COMIN from Chicago (2002).

She’s thinking all these strong, supportive thoughts about Jess. But get this: what if she’s just as depressed as she is? What if she’s a MURDERER? I don’t think that’s likely cuz of the synopsis that the girl she sees goes missing. What if she fakes her own death/ disappearance? Or like, what if Jess is actually the worst? Like when you think someone is really cool and then you meet them and they kinda suck...

Oop, her ex is calling her back. I mean, he’s right, she does need AA big time.

(Squishing her scab on her bandaged finger open) Ooh she’s one of those who when she feels emotional pain she has to redirect it to physical pain to distract herself. Is this gonna escalate toward others? Dun dun dun. *TV Voice* Tune in next week to see if she does!

Megan -  One Year Earlier - Wednesday May 16th, 2012 to Tuesday September 25, 2012

*Wednesday, May 16, 2012 (pgs 16-18)

Ooh new Narrator. I love books like this. Multiple first-person chapters are so much more interesting to me than a whole book in third person.

Already it seems like she would rather be anywhere else but here. Is she going to run away and fake her murder like in Gone Girl? 

What the heck was going on with those two ladies and the baby? Was one of them kidnapping the child or just playing too rough? I hope we get to see more of this later on in a flashback.

*Tuesday, August 14th, 2012 (pgs 18-20)

She definitely does not like kids. If she was an artist why is she nannying? Wouldn’t it be better to use the off time to make more art? I guess maybe she’s in a major depression slump, but doing something she doesn’t like probably won’t get her out of it. Unless she’s hoping that doing something that she doesn’t like inspires new art...

Also, their names are Scott and Megan. This is going to be weird to try and keep characters straight with two names.

Oof, she doesn’t like Anna either. Three of us in this boat now. (Me, Megan, and Rachel.)

*Thursday, August 16, 2012 (pgs 20-21)

Damn, girl, quitting after 48 hours? At least this is inspiring new art projects.

*Thursday, September 20th, 2012 (pgs 21-24)

Reading snippets of her life and then jumping a month ahead is a bit jarring. Is she really not doing much in this time? It’s making it hard for me to get to know her. I feel like I know Rachel quite a bit more despite the fact that I’ve seen five days into her life and a few months into Megan’s.

Oh wow. Poor Megan! That’s a terrible and traumatic way to lose someone. I wonder how long ago her brother passed away. It definitely makes her depression make more sense. I think therapy would be good for her so I’m glad that Scott is pushing her to go instead of sitting around at home all day. 

Girl is horny af crushing on her therapist. I mean, he does sound a bit dreamy, but she is a married woman. She needs to calm tf down. 

*Tuesday, September 25th, 2012 (pgs 24-27)

“The only places I seem to go these days are to the shops, my Pilates classes, and my therapist” (24). --> That is literally me when I am not at work, haha. I am such a homebody and the only exercise I get is Pilates. I get really restless, too, if I’m not creating so I have to scrapbook, paint, write, or read to feel better.

She imagines really morbid things, too! Maybe she and Rachel should start a true crime club. 

OK WHO IS THE SMILING MAN? Is he a stranger? Is she imagining her dead brother? A lover? Her therapist? Tom the neighbor? I feel like if it was someone she knew she would just use their name instead of “he” and “his.” Ugh and now we have to wait until her next section. How ruuuudeeee.

----

This is the end of my part 1 reaction! Part 2 will consist of pages 28 to 62!

[paper-poppy]

Reticent 

Swaying slightly while walking out of the bathroom, she leaned on the doorframe for support. It's just anxiety. Stop worrying over it. 

Creeping up on her, and overwhelming her senses, she spent another day resting away from prying eyes.

Slipping in and out of rooms to avoid contact. Slinking around corners. Wasn't long before he started noticing a pattern.

“Xiela-”,  …a sentence said to no one. She had already gone to another room. 

It's happened so many times he's stopped being sad and just ended up disappointed. He had felt her cooler nature in the past but it felt …different now.

‘She's just grieving. Like we all are. Stop worrying about it.’, He sighed and tossed his hair around. He would do anything for her, if she would only let him. 

This pattern had continued for three months and he was growing exhausted. 

‘What is burdening you so? Why are you hiding away so viciously?’, he kept pacing around his study, trying to figure out what was ailing his poor wife. 

Sighing while sinking into his chair he decided to try and draw her out once the next opportunity presented itself.

—

Humming to herself in the kitchen, she smiled at her son. 

“So what have you been working on in the garden, Emil?”, though she was in deep anguish she tried not letting her other children see it. Her voice was light and cheerful. She wouldn't have a repeat of 10 years ago.

“Mm, Aunt Rella told me to grow some variant of rolandberries, they're almost ripe now!- actually some might already be as well speak..! Do you want some mum? I know you said before they’re ehh to you, but this variant may suit your tastes!”, Emil was quite a chatterbox, he made sure to fill in the quiet gaps. He was a fast talker, and his personality was so bubbly and upbeat despite what had happened to the family. He knew he had to keep it up. For his mother. She couldn't lose two children.

Xiela froze for a moment. Rella. She hadn't spoken to her at all after coming home three months ago. Rella hadn't said anything these last few months but Xiela knew her best friend, she would have put two and two together back then. Feeling the discomfort and anxiety start to build inside her again, Xiela forced a smile. 

“No, I'm fine thank you Ems. Here I'll make you a lunch before you head out again.”, she started pulling sandwich materials out of the fridge.

“Thanks mum. I'll toast the bread for us then.”, Emil turned on the stove and put out the pan.

The smell of bread crisping to a perfection filled the house. Bringing in another, the floor creaked and the presence of another alerted Xiela. 

“Mm, Luca do you want a sandwich too?-”, turning around she was met with not her youngest son but her husband. Her upturned smile deflated and panic soaked in.

G’raha saw this unfold right in front of him. Her smile, her radiance, her affection. Gone.

In an instant.

Sheepish grin to cover up her blatant switch up in emotions, she folded her hands and dug her nails into herself. Mask. Pretend. 

“Oh honey, were you hungry? I can make you one too?”, lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie-

“We need to talk.”, Raha said firmly but softly.

Emil felt the shift in the air. Knowing that his parents loved each other deeply, even in difficult times, brought him comfort. 

But he had heard things, wishing he should have turned his hearing aides off sooner.

“Don't have to sound so tense dear..”, she had turned around to continue making sandwiches. 

“If I wasn't in the way right now, you would have ran off. This is the first proper conversation we've had in weeks.”, He wasn't going to let her escape now. 

“Please not right now. Not in front of Emil.”, she replied hushed but coldly. Focusing all her energy at her task she was straining her eyes staring at the ingredients.

“If not now, then when? I understand you are hurting, we all are. But you keep isolating yourself from us.” He was straightforward. Unflinchingly.

“I'm just really tired from everything right now. That's it. Okay? Please just save this for later. You're making this sound so much worse than it actually is.”, the defensive reply back only made him more wary of her actions.

Emil shifted uncomfortably. He placed the toasted slices on the plate and he looked in their direction. 

“I'm not really hungry after all, you two can enjoy it okay?”, the 19 year old then slipped out the back door.

“See? I told you not to start it.”, she sighed and frowned.

“Then why have you put me into this position.”, he replied with no emotions attached. 

“I have done no such thing.” 

Exchanging angry expressions, the two left in the room separated into different rooms. 

—-

Sighing, the young man went into the garden and started plucking ripe rolandberries. Worried over the situation that was out of his hands he shook his head. 

‘I can't fix their pain. Nor can I bring Mar back.’ 

‘I hate this. I wish life would go back to the way it was.’

‘i miss her.’

The thoughts were on a constant loop, driving him insane. Drowning the thoughts out, he picked himself up and took a walk around the garden. 

Seeing the ground that had been packed down by his mother earlier he stopped low and examined it further. Uncovering a red crystal, he knew that his Aunt had materialized it. 

Often Rella would put messages or memories into such crystals. Only she would be able to read them. Feeling awkward that his mother would bury such a gift he plucked it out of the ground and dusted it off.

Looking back at the house that once felt like home, he put the crystal into his basket. Putting a cover over the basket, he had a delivery to make. 

He was on his way to see his Aunt. Bringing her berries to her. And returning her crystal back.

—--

Sinking back into his office chair, he felt so many things to say to her. Yet he kept a tight rein on his lips, knowing it would only push her away further, like in the past. Nevertheless it was festering in him. Eating away at his heart. 

Going through dozens of scenarios of what he could have done to have her react in such disgust towards him. 

A far-flung idea then hit him.. 

Shaking his head he tried pushing away the thoughts, but then connecting dots started lining up. 

‘Stop. Don't be an idiot.’ 

‘But then why has she been so sick lately.’

Pacing out the door, without thinking he found himself in their room. Perhaps his heart was aching for her, or perhaps he wanted to get a clear answer.

But whatever it was….

Neither of them said anything. He couldn't.

She wouldn't.

Silence fell. And another night ended the same.

[ladyintree]

her eyes narrow in on her,  ready to challenge her—   but even she understands she doesn’t have much to stand on.   she did break up with her quickly,   but the way she remembers it now,   they both thought it was the right thing to do.   but part of her also knows that she’s only choosing to remember it that way because the memory of how hurt mikayla looked when it all happened is too much for her to bear.   ❝  that’s how i remember it,  ❞    she mumbles,   like it’s actually no big deal,   even though it is.   because while she thought it was for the best when they broke up then,   she didn’t expect everything that happened afterwards—  like mikayla completely cutting her out of her life,   not caring to keep taissa updated on what’s going on,   given everything they’ve been through.  taissa still believes she’s owed that,  even if they’re not together.   

her eyes roll and she lets out a small scoff,  nodding her head slowly.  ❝  yeah.  that makes sense,  ❞   she mutters,  as if mikayla is the only selfish one between them.   she stares at her blankly,   because her words are offending her in a way she doesn’t actually think mikayla is trying to do—   taissa’s the one who should’ve gone pro out of all of time,   at least that’s the way she sees it,  the way she’s sure her coaches would’ve seen it too.   selfishly,  she resents mikayla for hating that she’s made it there.   but the part of taissa that will always love mikayla just feels sad for her,  knowing that she’s still stuck doing something she hates for…  whatever reasons she’s still not willing to fully give.   ❝  you should care,  ❞   she insists,   her jaw clenching as she wonders if she should just leave it at that.   ❝  that’s a lot of fucking effort to be wasted if you don't actually want to do that,  ❞    she points out—  as if she hasn't done the same thing plenty of times.   since they broke up,  she's barely made any choice that was to reach her own happiness.  she just thinks it's different.

her words sting taissa now,   her eyes closing immediately,  trying not to let herself get too affected—  but it’s hard not to,   not when the only thing taissa’s ever been sure about is that she did love mikayla,  that what they had was real,  despite the way it turned out.   she takes a deep breath,  glaring back at her.   ❝  no.   you weren’t stupid then,  ❞   she says through gritted teeth,  not allowing her eyes to look away,  despite how desperately she wants to.   ❝  you were—  ❞    in love.   but she can’t bear to finish that sentence,   not when the past tense will feel like a knife to the gut.   ❝  — things were just different,  ❞   she settles on instead,  because that’s her own defense,  too.   they were different out there—  it didn’t mean she stopped loving her.

❝  just seems like something you would do,  ❞    she points out,   but she’s not meaning that as if mikayla’s hung up on her.   clearly she’s not,  if she hasn’t bothered to speak to her in years.   she just assumes she’d be playing some kind of game,  just getting her attention to make taissa look foolish for it.   when she finally asks the dreaded question,  taissa takes a deep breath,   feeling a pain in her chest because she wishes she could’ve talked to her about this years ago.   it doesn’t even feel like a genuine opportunity to do it now—  not when mikayla’s the successful one and clearly already loves to shove that in her face.   ❝  i just decided it wasn’t for me, ❞    she says simply,  a practiced response,  but despite how well she can pull it off—  mikayla still knows her better.   she takes a long drink before she gives in and goes on.    ❝  it didn’t work out for me.  i played in college,  and i was damn good,  but it just—  ❞    she scoffs.   ❝  it felt kind of empty,  ❞     she admits,  her eyes cautiously meeting hers again,  desperate to know if she feels that now, too.  

she doesn't understand the bitterness, because all of this is taissa's fault, not mikayla's. she feels the need to get defensive, remind her that she's the one who chose to broke up with her immediately, like she was in a hurry to do it, like she couldn't stomach the idea of being with a murderer any longer. maybe that's not how it actually happened, but it's how mikayla's chosen to remember it. “ you know that's not what happened, ” she points out dryly, leaving it at that, despite wanting to say more, like how tai gave up on them while mikayla was stupid and oblivious, actually thinking that tai was visiting her because she loved her, not because she was planning on ending everything, as if the last year they spent together didn't matter at all.

“ everything i do is for myself. ” the same way it was in high school, except worse, because she thought she'd be able to rid herself of that state of mind back then; now she realizes it's impossible, that she has to be selfish, because she can't rely on anyone else to genuinely care about her. she knows some people do, but tai's left her with enough trust issues that she doubts even them sometimes, too, for no fault of their own. “ it's a fucking job, tai. who cares if i like it? ” she doesn't, because it still feels like a chore, but at least she gets something out of it— money, respect, better attention than what she used to receive in prison. maybe it's not fun, but it's not if she knows how to enjoy herself anymore anyway.

mikayla inhales sharply, trying to ignore the stinging in her chest, taking another drink in an attempt to rid herself of the feeling, but it doesn't work, only leaving her wishing she'd gotten something stronger. “ yeah, that checks out. ” of course tai would forget it's there, the same way she seemed to forget how much they supposedly loved each other the moment they were back in new jersey, already ready to move on, while mikayla actually thought they still had a future together. “ well, i was a kid. so maybe i was just fucking stupid. ” she feels that way every time she thinks back to the girl she was, the one who actually believed in what they had, who thought it mattered beyond just survival. she hates herself for that now, knowing how much it only hurt her in the end.

“ then why'd you ask? ” she scoffs, unable to ask herself, because she can't stand the idea of tai thinking mikayla cares while she doesn't— not when the reverse is exactly what mikayla's trying to convince her of. she ignores tai's implication, because she's painfully aware that tai's moved on from her, choosing to ask something that's been on her mind for years instead. “ what happened with you, anyway? i thought you wanted to play professionally. ” because of course she still remembers the night tai admitted that to her, how mikayla still believed she could do it, despite everything they went through— but of course, she couldn't exactly encourage her once they were rescued, because tai didn't give her that option.

[usedtobecooler]

Sorry I keep blowing up your inbox w virgin Eddie thots. I just have so many. 😓 latest since I’m currently suffering: Virgin Eddie + period sex

do not say sorry cause this had me feeling some type of way and it's given me inspo for the first time in a few days!!

part one // part two // part three // part four

pairing | eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), period sex, mentions of tampon removal, eddie taking care of reader, eddie being endearing (when is he not), dirty talk, lots of fluff and reader being nice to eddie, reader also kind of snarks at him for being annoying, eddie professing his love for reader, no use of y/n. i think that's it? possibly. maybe.

word count | 3.6k

a/n | i made this way fluffier than any of my past stuff so this is really off brand for me. i'm also currently suffering on shark week and i'm definitely in my feelings about it so that probably explains it. reader is softer than her usual self here which gives eddie time for his more dominant, carer side to shine. hope u all love it.

You'd been doubled over on your chair all day, not even your heat pack and strongest pain killers were relieving your cramps. Everything hurt, everything ached, and you were being exceptionally snarky (even by your own standards) for no reason.

It was quiet in the store, a weird Tuesday where the weather was putting off anybody from stepping foot out of their house. Misty, grey, dull and wet. A bit like you were feeling yourself, almost like the sky knew you weren't on top form and was sympathizing with you.

Eddie was whistling along to whatever crap he'd put on the store's boom box; in the back of your mind, you think it's Motley Crue but you can't even find it in you to tune into the song enough to make it out properly.

You felt anxious, every little noise creeping into your ears and booming loud, making you feel like your head was about to explode. You hated to admit it, but Eddie's voice in particular was grating on you, every time he opened his mouth you wanted to snark at him, tell him to shut the fuck up.

You were trying your best to block him out before you blew up at him, twirling in your chair a little for comfort whilst you redundantly pressed the useless heat pack closer to your aching tummy, when he suddenly jumps out of nowhere at your side and starts doing the air guitar to a particularly loud and annoying solo.

"Eddie, shut the fuck up. You're driving me up the fucking wall." You snap, voice stern, angry, gruff, and it makes him stop in his tracks, looking crestfallen. You'd usually feel bad, but not today. He'd been pushing your buttons since you opened up, albeit he wasn't doing anything wrong and wasn't meaning to upset you, but your temper was short, and he wasn't getting the fucking hint.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly, big puppy dog eyes looking apologetic and sad, "M'sorry, sweetheart. I know you're not feeling good, I was just tryin' to make you laugh."

Your face softens a little, the guilt creeping in as you look at Eddie's sad features, "I'm sorry, handsome. I'm just exhausted these cramps are wiping me out." You sigh, groaning a little as your tummy coils up unpleasantly, radiating pain throughout your belly, back and legs.

Eddie comes over to lean over the counter, rubbing at your shoulder softly, and you melt into the touch, tense body slackening under his fingertips, "You know, I read in a girly magazine-" Eddie cuts himself off, like he's pondering on if he should actually continue on his sentence, you egg him on by nodding your head, "it was in the doctor's office, okay?"

"Hey, I never said anything." You hold your hands up in self-defense, giggling a little and trying to ignore how Eddie's inner brat jumps out as he rolls his eyes and lets his hand fall from your shoulder. You make a show of pouting until his hand comes back out, this time brushing down your arm.

"Anyway, in this girly magazine there was this article, about how to relieve menstrual cramps..." Eddie cringes at himself, screwing his face up at his wording and you laugh properly then, "Apparently, orgasms are the best way to relieve the pain. Something about the hormones it releases."

You balk at him a little, dumbfounded by the fact that he, for one, chose that article out of all of the pages in a women's magazine. And, for two, that he actually took in what the article said and stored it somewhere in the back of his head, almost like a mental note for if this were to ever happen.

He furrows his brows at you, "Is that- is that not right?" He asks, cocking his head a little, tips of his fingers still brushing your arm absentmindedly, "I thought since it was in a girly mag it'd be true."

"No, I mean I think it's true, I've heard that before." You shrug, trying to ignore the ache in your back at a particularly strong cramp, "But I don't really like to touch myself when I'm on my period. I'm usually too sore to focus and it makes a mess."

"Well," Eddie starts, cheeks flushing dark and his breath shaking, "I'd be more than... more than happy to help you with that. If y'want."

You suck your cheeks in, looking at him with narrowed eyes for a second before they soften, and you're pretty sure if he looked at you properly, he'd see the love hearts swirling round in your irises, "You're the sweetest boy I've ever met, Eddie Munson. Don't feel like you have to do that, though, I've gone like at least ten years on my period and am yet to do that."

"I'd like to," Eddie cuts in all too quickly, and now you wonder if he's doing this for your sake or his own morbid curiosity, though you suspect it's somehow both, "I'd like to help you feel better, that is. I don't - I don't mind the mess."

"Well, okay then." You shrug, trying to ignore the way that your thighs clench a little at the thought of Eddie touching you whilst you're menstruating. It was never something you'd thought about before, but now that Eddie had said about it, you wondered just how much you'd actually be into it.

"We can go to my place, uh, Wayne's gone until tomorrow, took a double shift for the extra money." Eddie rambles, like he has to justify every single detail to you. It's cute, endearing almost.

You nod your head in reply, subtly drifting your eyes to the clock and realizing there were still four hours left until closing. You couldn't help but wish the time away.

***

Eddie ushers you into the trailer slowly, a hand hovering over your lower back in a soothing motion, "You can go to my room and make yourself at home, sweetheart. I'll go get some, like, towels or something?"

"Towels should work, handsome. I don't think it's bad enough to justify a tarp." You say it as a joke as you toe your Docs off, but Eddie's eyes widen comically, "It was a joke. Though a tarp would be easier to clean."

You saunter off through to Eddie's room, sliding a comic book off of his desk and plopping down on the bed. You have no interest in it as you flip through the pages, tummy doing flips for two reasons now - your obvious cramps, but also the nervousness of what was about to happen.

You? Nervous? This never happened. You and Eddie had only had actual sex once, but you were in control, in a situation you'd been in plenty before. You showed him the ropes and took charge, that was your comfort zone. This was... different.

There's no more time to worry and ponder when Eddie comes bursting through the door carrying an array of things he thought you might need. Pain killers, a bottle of water, two towels and what looked like one of his oversized, ratty Metallica shirts.

Your heart melted a little. Eddie was just so, so sweet. You couldn't believe nobody had snatched him up before now, he was caring and attentive to you, albeit a bit fumbly and nervous but you think that's just because of how you are towards him.

He had the biggest heart. To match his dick.

"D'you need these before we start?" Eddie asks quietly, pulling you out of your trance and shaking the bottle of pills at you. You can tell he's nervous too, his breathing all jagged and his hand holding the pills jittering enough for you to notice.

"No, no, that's okay. I took a few before we left the store so they should start kicking in soon. Hand me the towels, would ya?" You lift yourself up off the bed, gently plucking the towels from Eddie's open arm. You strip his comforter out of the way in silence, laying the towels flat and spreading them out as well as you could. His twin bed was small enough that it covered just fine, but you spent extra time focusing on it and trying to block out the pounding in your ears.

Eddie's warm hands on the base of your spine jolt you out of your thinking, you melt into the touch slightly and lean back against his chest. He huffs into your hair, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, sweetheart. Was just a suggestion."

"I'm just used to knowing everything and showing you the ropes. I dunno how to do any of this and I'm worried I'll gross you out." You say it matter of factly, making sure that as always you have the upper hand in showing him that you don't panic and you're always in control.

"S'not gonna gross me out, it's you. What if we... what if we did this in the shower instead? Would that make you feel better?" Eddie suggests, voice barely above a whisper and a clear nervousness breaking through. He's worried you're going to say no, you can tell.

You don't want his second time to be messy in a shower. But you make note of it for another time, now that you knew that was something he was clearly into.

You turn in his arms, shaking your head and nudging up to press your lips to his softly, just a brief kiss. But, Eddie grabs hold of your waist gently, deepening the kiss and forcing you to stay in place when you went to move away.

He's still not a good kisser, you make a mental note of that. He's still sloppy and giving too much tongue but you can't help but suck on it, causing a moan to escape him as he nudges you back towards the end of the bed until the backs of your knees knock on it. You fall backwards with a small thump and Eddie's lips never leave yours as you shuffle up the bed, until your head is cushioned by his one lonely pillow.

"What do you want me to do?" Eddie asks gently once your lips part, soothing your hip with his big hand. You keen into the touch, loving the feeling of how soft his hand was, unwinding how tight you felt with nerves.

"You don't have to do anything you don't wanna do, pretty boy." You start, and Eddie's eyebrows furrow at you, "You can finger me, if you wanna? You can just stick to rubbing my clit, though."

Eddie doesn't humor you with a reply, simply tucking his fingers under the waistband of your leggings to drag them down your legs and off in one swift motion. You raise a brow as he goes to strip his jeans off as well, leaving him in a pair of tight black boxers which you swear you've never seen him wear before.

They leave nothing to the imagination - you sit up on your forearms for a better look at his half hard cock already straining a little. You catch it kicking up in interest as you stare at it with wide eyes.

"Theyre - they're new." Eddie stutters over his words, flushing a dark shade of red and there's the Eddie you know all too well, all flustered and embarrassed.

"They look great, Eddie." You say with a strained voice, gasping as he slides back onto the bed and in between your spread thighs, only your respective underwear and shirts blocking your touch. "I still have a tampon in so that I, like, don't leak everywhere."

Eddie slides his palm over your hot cunt, eliciting another small gasp from you. It makes you feel, well, weird. And kind of dirty. But he doesn't seem to care, as his fingers pull the material of your panties to the side and he dips the tips in between your folds, seeking out the tampon string.

"Can I take it out?" He asks, eyes wide in earnest as if he doesn't realize how strange and weird of a request it is. You cringe a little, falling onto your back so you don't have to look at him whilst you nod your head yes.

It's not like you to be so mortified by something so normal, always one to not be a priss and try anything at least once. This just makes you feel vulnerable, and Eddie is so inexperienced that it makes you question if he knows that this isn't necessarily 'normal' to do during sex.

You throw your forearm over your eyes and squeeze them shut as you feel Eddie's fingers grab the string and tug your tampon out gently, then the telltale sign of him lifting off the mattress, clearly leaving to dispose of it.

His footsteps come back quickly; you feel the bed dip as he gets back onto it and snug back in between your spread legs. Then, you gasp as he runs two fingers back in between your folds, this time to slide them through and gather some slickness.

You let your arm fall from your face, plucking up the courage to finally look back at him and he's smiling with this dumb look on his face. It makes your cunt clench around nothing - you didn't realize through all your nervousness that you were clearly into this, slick mixing in with your menstrual blood to make things extra wet.

Eddie doesn't seem to care about the blood at all, swirling his fingers around like you'd previously taught him to, finally catching them on your clit and rubbing in slow circles. He leans over the top of you, mouth against your neck to press a sweet kiss, "Does this feel good?"

You nod your head, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your soft skin, goosebumps blooming down your arms. He probably didn't mean for his words to sound dirty, but they did, made you flush warm with want for him.

His fingers slip through the mixture of fluids with ease, rubbing relentlessly on your clit until you're a whining, shaking mess under him. Somehow, this feels more intense than it ever has before, and you can't tell if that's because of you being on your period, Eddie taking the lead or a mixture of both.

"E-Eddie," You choke, hips jolting up of their own accord, a loud whine escaping your lips, suddenly you're aware of how submissive you're being but you can't find it in you to care, "f-feels so good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, fingers rubbing at your clit with purpose, clearly trying to get you there and it's working, "Y'gonna come?"

Eddie can sound so dirty without even trying and you feel your cunt clench, can feel your warm fluids dripping down your ass, pooling there and probably making such a mess. It shouldn't be as hot as it is, you shouldn't be as turned on as you are, but it feels so dirty and Eddie loves it more than you do and it's making your brain short circuit.

You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut but Eddie's free hand grips at your jaw, shaking your head a little until your eyes reopen to see him staring at you intently, "Look at me whilst I finger you, sweetheart. Wanna see you come undone on my hands."

You gasp, the coil in your belly tightening at Eddie's vulgar words, the loud slick sounds of your cunt being violated by his hands filling the air and engulfing all of your senses. Your mouth opens in a soundless moan and Eddie sees that as an opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth.

"Suck on it." He says it like it's casual and like he's told you to do it before, the way you obey and immediately begin licking and sucking at his calloused fingertip makes you question yourself, but then his fingertips dig into your cheeks a little rough and any thought leaves your brain.

Your body feels like a livewire, tummy tensing up impossibly tighter. You're looking into Eddie's glassy dark eyes, his puffy pink lips open slightly as he stares you down, feeling every catch and drag of his fingers on your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train and you're biting down gently on Eddie's thumb, moaning and squeezing your eyes tight as you come so hard you see stars.

"That's my girl." Eddie grins, rubbing your clit slowly as he works you through it, not stopping until you're trying to clench your legs shut from oversensitivity.

You open your eyes again just in time to catch him wiping his fingers on the towel below you, a creamy dark pink colour staining the grey fabric. You're still trying to catch your breath, can feel your shirt clinging to your back with sweat.

You grab Eddie by the front of his own shirt and pull him down to kiss you, all needy as you gasp into his open mouth, tongue lapping in to drag against his own.

Eddie moans, shuddering against you as his hands roam up under your shirt, soothing the hot, damp skin under his fingertips. You slide your own hand down his torso, grabbing at a handful of his hard cock through his boxers and squeezing until he bucked into your hand with a whine.

You're honestly surprised he didn't come in his pants again, it seemed to be a running theme with him. Not that you minded, you liked having that power over him.

"Can I..." Eddie breathes into your mouth, cut off with another groan as you attacked his neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, "Can I fuck you?"

You nod into his neck, hands deftly sliding over the waistband of his boxers, blindly tugging them down his thighs as you continued your assaults on his pale skin.

You grab a hold of his cock by the base when it springs out of his underwear, giving it a few quick tugs for good measure, which has Eddie shivering and almost collapsing on top of you. You slide the wet head of his dick in between your folds, shuddering at the wet sounds as it catches on your entrance.

Eddie has no patience and shoves his hips forward, sliding into you with ease. He grips at your hips tightly, sucking in a shaky breath as he bottoms out, "Jesus, you're so fucking wet."

You clench around his cock at his words and he positively mewls, pulling out a little and thrusting back into you, eyes tearing away from you to look down at where your bodies meet, the absolute mess you're both making. He's so mesmerized, watching how your cunt sucks him in so well with every thrust, "Your pussy is so greedy."

It tumbles out like word vomit, but there's no embarrassment in Eddie's eyes when yours fly open to look at him, watch him looking at your cunt with hearts in his eyes. You cry out, hips bucking of their own accord as his thrusts pick up, finally gaining a good rhythm and abusing your gspot with ease.

"Harder, Eddie, please," You gasp, tears pricking at your eyes as he doubles down his efforts and leans over you, fucking into you harder, faster than before. His curls are matted to his forehead, this wild look on his face as you lean up to brush his hair back, fingers gripping into it at the crown of his head so your foreheads are touching, "You're so fucking pretty like this."

Eddie lets out a shaky laugh, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "Don't say that, I'm gonna come." He grits his teeth, hips beginning to falter and stutter.

Your soft spot is being abused by his cock, grazing at it with every thrust and you too feel your orgasm impending on you, "Come with me then. Come in my wet pussy."

Eddie whimpers, that in turn makes your cunt throb around him and he's shoving his cock into you so hard you move up the bed a little, the slick sounds invading your senses and making you clench sporadically until you're coming with a loud shout of his name.

"Fuckfuckfuck, god you're so tight, fuck." Eddie's babbling nonsense, clearly struggling at the feeling of your pussy sucking him in so well, then he's coming too, hips stilling as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

You watch him in awe, you don't think you'll ever get fed up of watching him come undone inside of you the way that he does. He's so perfect it makes you feel like you're suffocating every time you look at him.

He collapses down on top of you, breathing heavily as you pet his hair gently, soothing him quietly, "I think I'm in love with you, fuck."

"I'm in love with me too." You say jokily, trying to hide the way your words come out panicky, though you're sure Eddie can hear your heart going a million miles an hour under his head.

Eddie barks out a laugh into your chest, snuggling up a little, "You'll say it back eventually." He shrugs, nonchalantly like he could care less that you brushed off his confession.

Little did he know how much you'd been in love with him from the day you set your eyes on him. But that was a conversation for another day.

"Yeah, yeah. We need to get up before these towels stain your bed." You giggle, "That was... perfect, by the way. Thank you for always taking such good care of me."

"So long as your cramps are a bit better." Eddie sighs sleepily, snuggling into you a little more. You lie there a bit longer before you're shoving him out of the bed to clean up, worried he'd fall asleep in the mess.

If you followed him into the shower and sucked his cock clean later, then nobody needed to know.

[marshmallow-rainbow139]

Losing Your Memory (Mikasa Ackerman x Jean Kirstein)

I'm sorry, Jean.

I can't do this.

I'm not that woman.

I can't be your wife.

I can't be their mother.

Don't worry about me.

Don't come looking for me, please.

I'm sorry.

After reading those eight sentences, Jean felt his heart plummeting to the ground. He felt nauseous. To get out of this nightmare, he dug his nails deep into his palm. A nightmare that he's been having for the past month. His vision was getting blurry from the number of tears that were building in his eyes.

He should have known this was going to happen. That the stress and the confusion were going to be too much for her.

He tried to be patient the moment the doctor revealed that the hit on her head caused her to lose 14 years of her memory.

He had pretended that the look of almost disgust after he told her that they had been married for 8 years didn't hurt him because he told himself that she was just confused.

The last memory she had was burying Eren's head and passing out of exhaustion. Waking up to find you're 33 years old, the wife of an old friend and the mother of three young children would make someone think it was a sick joke.

He showed her a photo of them and their children. He told her their names and ages. She returned the photo after looking at it for a short time.

After she was discharged from the hospital, they went home. Marco and Sasha were outside waiting for their mother, alongside Jean’s mother, who was holding Hideko. Jean had explained their mother's condition. The look of confusion and sadness in their eyes after Jean told them their mother didn't remember being their mommy is something that will haunt Jean for the rest of his life. He told them all they needed to do was be patient and the situation would be temporary.

The moment Mikasa got out of the car, Sasha was the first to run to her while Marco was trailing behind her almost shyly.

The moment Sasha hugged her waist, Mikasa’s whole body stiffened and she put her arms up, not knowing where to put them. She looked at him with her eyes wide, asking for help.

Jean removed Sasha from her and explained that she needed to ask her mother's permission before hugging her. Sasha blushed and apologised to Mikasa. Mikasa nodded and said it was okay. She looked at Marco, who was in front of her, looking down shyly.

Mikasa called him, and he looked up. She extended her arm and invited him for a hug. Marco smiled and hugged her. Mikasa looked indifferent. She looked away from them and her body remained stiffened.

Hideko, who was in her grandmother's arms, bounced and shrieked and made grabby hands towards Mikasa.

Mrs. Kirstein approached them. She welcomed Mikasa and told her how happy she was to see her. All the while trying to calm down the fussing baby who was getting more upset with the fact that it wasn't her mother who was holding her.

Jean was waiting for the moment some of Mikasa’s maternal instinct would wake up and she would grab Hideko and comfort her, but that didn't come. She just stared at them uncomfortably.

He sighed and went to his mother to grab his youngest child. She settled down but continued to sniffle.

At dinner time, Mikasa remained silent and gave small smiles to the children when they talked to her, but Jean knew that they were forced.

After dinner, he moved Hideko's crib to his study and prepared the master bedroom for Mikasa while his mother stayed in the guest room. Mikasa insisted that she could sleep in the study, but he argued that she rested on a comfortable bed and that he could manage Hideko. It's a good thing the baby was used to solid food and the bottle.

The next few days were tense and uncomfortable for the adults, at least. Mikasa shut herself away and spent most of the time in her room. Only coming out to eat something and going to the bathroom. The children slip drawings through the bottom of the door to cheer her up.

When he goes to his bedroom to grab some clothes for himself, he feels a cold hand gripping his heart when he notices that the family portrait that was on top of Mikasa’s nightstand was face down.

Mikasa returns to her old self when Armin comes. After telling him of Mikasa’s conditions, Armin put some affairs in order and boarded the earliest ferry to Paradis.

When he showed up in their front yard, Mikasa ran out of the house and hugged him tightly. Jean, who hadn't been touched by his wife in days, felt jealous at how she didn't hesitate to hug Armin. He swallowed it down. Armin is the best comfort for her at the moment.

He stayed silent as he prepared tea for them. He listened to Armin explain to Mikasa what had happened to him for the last 14 years. She was surprised to learn that he and Annie got married and had a daughter who was also Mikasa’s goddaughter.

He swallowed down his anger and hurt when Armin showed a photo of his daughter and Mikasa stared at it longer than her own family portrait. Why could she look at another child that she doesn't recall with so much fondness and coldly ignore her own children that were looking at her with sadness in their eyes?

After having tea and biscuits, Mikasa asked if Armin could take her to Eren's grave. At that moment, all Jean wanted to do was throw his teacup against the wall. He just gave Armin his car keys and watched them go away.

It was just him in the house; the children were out with their grandmother and were only coming back by sundown, leaving him alone for almost the entire day.

It was just him in the house; the children were out with their grandmother and were only coming back by sundown, leaving him alone for almost the entire day.

He cleaned the tea cups and went to the bedroom where Mikasa was staying. The room that belonged to Jean and Mikasa. He lay on his side of the bed where he always lay beside her, cuddling her, making love to her, and talking about everything and anything until sunrise.

Jean grabbed her pillow and brought it to his chest, pretending it was her. One sniff of her scent and he started bawling and sobbing like a little child.

He missed her. He missed her so much that it hurt. He begged for this nightmare to end.

How long is this going to last?

How long is this pain going to last?

How long are their children going to be hurt?

He doesn't know how long he stayed there in a miserable state, but when he heard his car pull up, he got up and fixed the bed.

He went outside and watched them climb out of the car. It was obvious Mikasa had been crying; her eyes and cheeks were red. He went to her to comfort her, but Mikasa raised her arm before he could go any closer and continued to walk forward past him.

Armin just said that they had a very emotional conversation, but he didn't elaborate any further.

Armin stayed a few more hours to hang out with the children, who were ecstatic to see their Godfather. After dinner, Armin went back to his hotel, but promised he would return the next morning. He also took the opportunity to escort Mrs. Kirstein back to her house. They bid goodbye, and Mikasa closed off once again.

She helped in making dinner, and Jean tried to tell their own personal jokes, but she remained blank.

As always, Mikasa remained silent throughout dinner and the children, knowing that they wouldn't get a smile from her, didn't bother talking to her and silently ate their dinner. Even Hideko had stopped reaching out for Mikasa and just remained quiet in her highchair eating her own meal.

Seeing this scene of how sad and miserable his family has become made Jean nauseous.

What did he do to deserve this?

After a few days, Armin returns to his home, and the next week, after Mikasa didn't show up for breakfast, he went to the room and found a still made bed and a note on her pillow.

....

Mikasa knew she was being a coward by leaving the house in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t handle it anymore.

She felt suffocated in that house.

Looking at photos that she doesn't remember being there or when they were taken made her anxious. Having two children calling her mommy made her uncomfortable. She feels like a fraud when she looks in the mirror and sees a stranger in it. Her body has changed a lot over the years. Her skin was soft, and her athletic shape had almost entirely disappeared, and there were stretch marks on her side.

She can't look at Jean without thinking of the fact that he most likely saw her naked. They must have had sex multiple times to have three children. She feels her face warm up when thinking of that. Thinking how that must have been like or felt. She was a virgin at 19. She wonders how long they had been together before they began doing those things. She wants to ask him a lot of questions about their relationship and married life.

Who made the first move?

Who kissed first?

Who said the first I love you?

When did they decide to get married?

What was the wedding like?

Were the children planned? Or were they surprises?

But she couldn't say them out loud. She doesn't want to get to know this family. She doesn't belong to this family.

She tried to adapt, she really did. There were moments when she felt some sense of familiarity in the house. Where objects were and taking care of the garden in the back.

The children were kind and playful. Marco looked like her and she couldn't find any resemblance of Jean in his face. He was polite and always said please and thank you. He assists with chores and feeding his younger sister Hideko, and then cleaning her messy cheeks. He reminds Mikasa of her caregiver side.

Sasha had the same black hair as her but the same facial features as Jean. She's playful and energetic. She is always asking for someone to look at her when she does something like a cartwheel. She's the one who slips drawings through the crack of her bedroom door. She's loud, like her father.

Hideko is 9 months old, but she has a personality that resembles Mikasa. Quiet and with the same blank expression as her.

They were adorable children, but Mikasa couldn't stand to be near them. She's glad Jean told them off when they were being clingy. She's also thankful that Jean doesn't expect any marital activities from her and doesn't sleep in the same room as her.

He's been patient and helped her with some things.

She wonders what made her fall in love with him. She thinks the other Mikasa was in love with Jean. The woman in the wedding pictures looks happy. But she also wonders if that woman was faking and performing.

Part of her was relieved that she had moved on and found happiness, but another wondered how she had dared to do so.How dare she move on after she killed the love of her life? How dare she play with the feelings of her old friend? She knew Jean had a crush on her when they were cadets and it was a running joke in their friend group. How desperate was she for some sort of comfort that she played with the feelings of her old friend? Why did she prolong it for so long?

Armin's coming to the island was like a breath of fresh air. She immediately hugged him when he appeared.

She was shocked that he had married Annie. She knew that he had visited her every day when she was in the crystal. She didn't think a relationship would form after that. She was surprised to learn that they had a daughter, Abigail, who was two years younger than Marco and that she was her goddaughter. He showed her a photo and she could see how she looked like Armin, with the only exception being her eyes.

After the teapot was empty, she asked Armin to take her to Eren's grave. She ignored the flash of hurt that went through Jean's eyes. She didn't want him to take her there. It had to be Armin.

Jean gave Armin his car keys and went out.

She took a better look at their surroundings. So much has changed. Her hometown looks more like the outside world, and with Wall Maria gone, it looks more spacious.

She felt more anxious as they arrived at the familiar hill. Her heart beats faster when they start climbing.

When she sees the stone on the bottom of the hill, that's when she crumbles. Armin catches her before she can fall and brings her to his chest. He told her she could let it all out, and that's what she did. She cried and sobbed into her friend's arms.

After letting out all the tears she had, she finally started asking Armin questions, and he answered all of them.

With her head on his lap, she listens to him talk about a life she doesn't remember. She listens to him tell her how her relationship with Jean formed. How he saw with his own eyes Mikasa falling in love with Jean and becoming happy. The wedding where he walked her down the aisle. Her love for her children. How she was glad to have a family once again.

She asked him how she could forget Eren. Armin tells her she didn't forget him. He said that he would be happy that she was living a full and happy life, just like he wanted for all of them.

She asked him if her memories would come back and she would be able to love those children and Jean. He tells her they will come back somehow. It could take years for all of them to come back, but they will come back.

After that, Armin promised that he would not say anything to Jean about their conversation. They go back, and she ignores Jean when walking inside.

She almost wants to beg Armin to stay when he has to go, but Armin is a man with responsibilities and a family.

Before leaving, Armin asks her to give this life a chance. To give Jean a chance. To give those children a chance. She tried to follow his advice, but she doesn't know where to start.

During dinner, she realised how quiet everyone was. Marco and Sasha don't talk or look at her. Hideko barely gurgles in her high chair. Jean barely eats.

Looking at this, Mikasa realises how miserable this family has become. It's all because of her. The children are not smiling or laughing. Jean doesn't have that familiar sparkle in his eyes. She was the cause of it. She was so focused on herself that she didn't notice that she was hurting her family.

Not wanting to hurt them anymore. Mikasa grabbed a few clothes, gathered some money she found in her room, wrote a note, and placed it on the pillow.

She quietly descended the stairs, and when she closed the door, she sprinted, not once looking over her shoulders

...

After a long day, she reached Shiganshina. On her way to the hill, she picked a few flowers that were growing in the field. She reached the three and kneeled beside Eren's grave. She put her hand on the headstone and pretended that she was caressing his hair.

"Hello, Eren." She started softly. "How are you?"

There was no obvious response, just the wind.

"When I was here with Armin, we didn't talk. I'm sorry, I was too emotional."

The birds laying on the tree were chirping.

"Do you know about Jean and I? That we are married? That we have children?"

"I hope you know that I love you. That you still have a corner of my heart. Armin says I love him and I know he would never lie to me about something like that. He said that my eyes looked brighter ever since we started a relationship. That I have been tremendously happy with my children. He said that I would bring them here to meet you. What do you think of them? They are incredible children. It's hard to believe that they came out of my body. It's hard to believe that I did... things with Jean." She let out a chuckle. "I always thought it was going to be you that I was going to get married to and have children with. Even after knowing about the curse, that didn't stop me from thinking about it."

Her hand played with the grass.

"I ran away without telling Jean. I know that was a cowardly move, but it was the best thing to do. The children were no longer happy, and I was the reason behind it. Hopefully, Jean will forget about me and fall in love with a woman who deserves him. I hope it's a woman with maternal instinct so that the children will be well taken care of. "

"I don't know what I'm going to do now. All of our friends have their own lives, their own responsibilities, their own families. I don't want to bother any of them. I think I'm just going to travel for a while and see where fate takes me."

She got up and cleaned her skirt. She took one look at the stone and said goodbye.

Mikasa walked around Paradis without any destination. She walked with a hood over her head so she wouldn't be recognized.

With the wall gone, it's hard to tell where she was now. In one minute, she's in Wall Maria and then she's in Wall Rose.

After walking for some days, temperatures started to drop. Soon the paths will be covered in snow. Not wanting to end up freezing to death, Mikasa found a nearby inn. She had enough money on her to spend a night there.

She settled quickly into the room. She took her first shower in days. She let out a relieved cry when all of her tension and dirt went away with the water.

The bed made creaking noises, but it was more comfortable than a hard grass floor. She picked up her bag and dumped all of its contents onto the bed, looking for her nightgown. She put it on and started folding the other clothes. In the middle of the task, she picked up a small folded piece, thinking it was a head cover. She unfolds it and sees that it's a onesie.

The night she left, she picked up the first bag that was in the closet, not bothering to check if something was in there.

She wonders who it belongs to. Probably Hideko, or maybe Marco or Sasha. It doesn't matter; it's small, fit for a newborn Jean wouldn't probably need. Hideko has plenty of other clothes. Still, she carefully folds it and puts it back in the bag with the other clothes.

Mikasa lays down and puts the covers up, ready to go to sleep... but sleep doesn't come. She stares at the ceiling and waits for the heavy blanket of exhaustion that will put her to sleep, but once again it doesn't come. She lets out a frustrated sigh and sits on the side of the bed. She looks at her right side and sees the white baby clothe. She grabs it and unfolds it. She wonders if the children were always this small. The piece of cloth is almost the size of her entire hand.

She lays down again and puts the onesie on top of her stomach and tries to imagine what her bump must have looked like. Was it big or small? Did the children move a lot inside her? Or were they calmed babies? Did she and Jean talk to them so that they could recognise their voices?

If she thought hard enough about it, she could feel phantom kicks.

She lay on her side and brought the baby cloth next to her face. She inhaled the scent, it smelled musty, but she could smell something else. She couldn’t put a name on it, but whatever that scent was, it was enough for Mikasa to fall asleep and remember.

...

Ever since Marco was born, Mikasa has been filled with anxiety that he may suffocate in his sleep. She did everything the midwife recommended. She didn't use pillows, she didn't use blankets, and there were no toys around him. But still, Mikasa felt the need to stand over the crib and watch him sleep. To observe his chest move up and down, to hear his little snores, and to see his legs twitch once in a while.

Jean reassures her that he's going to be alright and that she needs to rest. To make her feel at ease, he creates a shift system where he will stand guard and watch while Mikasa rests. He would wake her up in an hour or so. She reluctantly agrees and goes to bed.

She immediately falls asleep when her head hits the pillow.

By the time she woke up, the sun was already up. She looks at the crib, looking for Jean to ask him why he didn't wake her up, but what she sees makes her swallow her words and her heart warm up.

Jean was sitting on the rocking chair with Marco on top of his chest, fast asleep. Jean's hand was lying on top of Marco's. His big hands made him look so small.

Mikasa got up and approached them. She carefully picked Marco up. Jean was jolted awake when he felt the baby being removed from him. He relaxed when he saw Mikasa.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" She asked, bringing Marco's head to his shoulder.

Jean grumbled and rubbed his face. "Because you deserve rest."

Mikasa smiled. "You deserve rest as well, Jean."

"You're the one who does the most. I just want you to relax."

Mikasa smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "Thank you, Jean."

Jean made a soft smile. "No need to thank me."

...

It was warm and beautiful outside. So Jean and Mikasa decided to bring their children outside for a picnic.

Marco was four years old and Sasha was one year old. She had been starting to show signs that she wanted to walk. She grips the furniture and stands up with her wobbly legs, but when she tries to take a step, she falls to her bottom.

Jean leaned against a tree and laid her on his chest with his arms around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder, and with her nose nuzzling his neck, he smelled like pine wood. She closed her eyes and listened to her children's giggles.

She almost fell asleep, but Jean let out a large gasp, startled her awake, and he started shaking her awake. "Mikasa, look at Sasha." He said with an excited tone.

Mikasa opens her eyes and looks at her daughter. Her eyes got wide, not too far from them. Sasha was standing with steady legs while holding Marco's hand for support.

"Is she..." Mikasa didn't finish her sentence and removed herself from Jean's grip. She crawled towards the children and kept a fair distance between them. She extended her arms and called for her daughter.

"Sasha." The toddler looked at her. "Come to Momma!"

Sasha looked at her feet and took a step forward. Then another. Then another one. She was about to take another one, but her legs gave in and she lost balance. Mikasa quickly picked her up before she could fully fall.

Mikasa lifted her up and started to kiss her cheeks. "I'm so proud of you!"

The little girl giggled.

Sasha was grabbed by Jean, who was beside her. "I'm so proud of you, but stay small for a little longer, pumpkin."

Marco immediately went to his mother's arms, and Mikasa hugged him back.

"I helped little sis." He proudly said.

Mikasa kissed his head. "I'm proud of you. You're a wonderful big brother."

...

Mikasa extended her arms the moment the nurse lifted Hideko from her hospital crib. The nurse put the baby in Mikasa's arms and stepped away.

Jean was next to her, looking at them with a smile on his face. It got wider when Mikasa looked at him with a smile on her face as well. She was glowing with happiness.

"Look at her!" She whispered, looking back at their daughter with so much love. "She's so cute."

"Just like her siblings. Just like her mother."

Mikasa blushed, and Jean kissed her forehead.

"Jean." She said softly.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Jean looked at her, confused. "For what?"

"For everything." She stated. "For loving me. For marrying me. For giving me our children. For being my family. I wouldn't want it with anybody else but you."

Jean looked moved to tears with her words. He grabbed her cheek and kissed her. She kissed him back more passionately.

"I love you." He whispered against her lips and continued to kiss her.

"I love you too." She said it back between kisses.

Their moment is interrupted when Hideko starts wailing. They immediately separated and looked at her.

"We love you too, Hideko. Don't worry." Mikasa reassured her while bouncing her gently.

"Don't worry, princess. We have a lot of love to give you." Jean said.

...

When she woke up, she started sobbing.

They were coming back.

The memories were coming back.

Memories of her children. Her babies. Her reason to live.

The bag she grabbed when she left was the hospital bag. The one she prepared a month earlier before giving birth to Hideko. In her hand was the onesie that the hospital put on her. The smell in between the mustyness was Hideko's. Mikasa put it next to her face and tried to look for it. Her baby girl's scent.

She cried as more memories of her children started coming back. Their first cries. The first time she held them. Their first steps. Their first words. Their giggles. Their cries when they got hurt. Their hugs and kisses. Their smiles. Calling for her.

She let out a small scream when she realized her mistake. She abandoned them. She abandoned her family.

She called them clingy, but all they wanted was their mother's love, and she treated them so coldly.

Jean didn't want to comfort his friend; he wanted to comfort his wife. The woman he loved. The man she loved, who gave his heart to her unconditionally, and she stomped on it like it was a bug.

She could barely breathe. She hit her chest hard to let some air out, but she did that as a punishment to herself.

...

Mikasa tried to remember her way back to Trost. She walked with no destination for so long she didn't know where she was. She felt tired and hungry. She still had some money left, but she didn't think it was enough to stay in another inn.

She feels some of her prayers were answered when she stumbled upon a sign that said "Welcome to Trost".

She almost laughed hysterically when she saw it.

Walking through the street brought back other memories. She remembers taking strolls and looking at windows. She remembers holding Jean's hand when they were walking around. She remembered buying some donuts from a local bakery. She remembers whipping some frost off the corner of Jean's mouth, and he would playfully try to bite her finger.

She found the bakery and spent her last money on two simple donuts. She sat on a bench and ate it. She was putting the plastic sack on her bag when she heard the town's clock ringing loudly.

She listened to it ring three times, and it stopped. It was quiet, and soon after, she heard the sound of multiple children laughing.

Marco's school is nearby!

She grabbed her bag and quickly ran to the source of the laughter.

She rounded a corner and stopped when she saw multiple children leave the gate. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to look for Marco, but she couldn't see him anywhere.

She walked closer.

Children stopped coming out, and she was there at the entrance alone. She let out a defeated sigh and turned around, ready to leave.

Before she could go any further, a small voice called for her. "Mommy?"

She turned around and there he was. Marco was at the school's door looking at her in shock.

She smiled when she saw him. "Marco!"

Marco looked at her shyly. She kneeled and extended her arms. "Come here,baby." She called for him.

He didn't move, and her heart broke. She was lowering her arms, but at the last minute, Marco started running towards her and clashed against her. Mikasa put her arms around him and breathed in his scent.

"Hi, baby!" She said with tears in her eyes.

"Why did you leave?" He asked, tearfully.

She looked at his face and wiped away a few tears. "I'm sorry, baby. I don't have an excuse for it. I just..." She swallowed. "I was confused and I didn't want to bother you, your sisters, or your father anymore. I thought you would be happier without me."

Marco shook his head and started crying more. "But I want you, mommy. I didn't care if you didn't remember me, I just wanted you."

Mikasa closed her eyes and more tears came out. She brought him closer to her. "Mommy is starting to remember. And I promise I'm not running away like a coward again. I swear."

"Are you coming back home?"

"I'll have to talk to your father first."

She straightened up and picked Marco's hand.

"Let's go home."

"We have to pick Sasha up as well." Marco interjected.

That's true. Sasha's kindergarten was on the other side of Marco's school building. Mikasa would go pick her up after getting Marco.

Mikasa smiled at Marco. "Yes, you're right. Let's go."

They walked the short distance, and there she was, her little girl waiting at the gate for her big brother with other children.

She was about to call for her name, but Marco did it for her. "SASHA!"

The girl looked at where her name was coming from and waved her hand to her brother, but froze when she saw Mikasa.

Mikasa swallowed hard.

Soon after, the little girl started running and crying for her mother.

Sasha's hug was different from Marco's. It was tighter. She thought that if she removed her arms, Mikasa would disappear once again.

"I'm here, baby!" She reassured her.

...

She and the children sit on a bench in a nearby park. She split the donut in half and gave it to them. Sasha refused to leave her lap, and Marco stayed glued to her side.

"Are your memories actually coming back?" Marco asked.

"Yes."

"Everything?" Sasha asked curiously.

"Not everything, but they are coming in."

"That's good!" She cheerfully said.

"Yes it is, sweetie. How's everything?" She asked.

"Fine!" They both said.

"Are you all eating well?"

"Yes, dad cooks, but grandma sometimes comes and makes dinner for us." Marco said.

"But we miss your food the most, mommy!" Sasha said. "When we get home, can you cook us dinner?"

"Yes, please!"

Mikasa chuckled. "We will see."

...

She gripped their hands as they walked down the familiar path home. Their hands were sticky because of the donut.

She watched as Marco opened the door and he and Sasha came in.

"We're back!" They shouted.

There was no response. She came in and noticed that Jean's jacket and fedora were still there. So he may be in the bedroom with Hideko.

She sent the children outside and told them to wait for her outside. She climbed the stairs silently. "Jean?" She called out, but there was no response.

She opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. Her guess was correct: he was there with Hideko. He was sleeping, but Hideko was wide awake, suckling on her hand. Jean had a hand on her belly to secure her and pillows around her to make sure she didn't roll out of the bed.

Hideko looked up when she saw Mikasa come in and started babbling.

Mikasa sat on the bed and picked her up. Hideko tightly gripped her shirt and buried her face against her chest.

"Hello, baby girl." She whispered and put her nose in her head, bringing in that scent that made her remember. "Thank you, Hideko."

She looked at Jean. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. She let him rest and left the room with Hideko.

...

Jean let out a big yawn when he woke up. The nap was wonderful, but he needed to get up to prepare dinner for the kids. He was surprised that they didn't wake him up when they got home. At that thought, he quickly opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that Hideko was no longer by his side.

He looked at the other side of the bed, thinking she fell over, but he couldn't find her. His head shot up when he heard laughter outside. He rushed to the window and saw Marco and Sasha. Maybe Hideko was with them, but he couldn't see her.

He ran out of the house and rushed to them.

"Where's your sister?" He shouted and panicked.

"With Mommy." They answered.

Jean froze. Was Mikasa here?

He looked behind him and couldn't believe she was actually there near the fence holding Hideko.

She looked at him and waved. She had a shy smile.

He didn't know what to think or feel. Should he feel relieved? Happy? Angry?

She approached him, holding Hideko tightly against her. He took a better look at her when she came closer. Her hair was greasy, her face looked sunken, and she looked skinnier.

"Hi, Jean." She said it so softly that he almost wanted to cry. That sounds almost like her, his Mikasa, his wife, the mother of his children.

Before he could respond to her, Marco and Sasha gripped his legs.

"Mommy is back!" Sasha cheerfully stated.

"She said her memories were coming back." Marco continues.

Jean looked at Mikasa to confirm it. She nodded. He didn't say anything.

"I..." He stuttered. "I have some leftover lunch. Would you like some?"

"I'm actually a little bit hungry."

"OK OK... Let's go inside and I will prepare you a bath as well."

Mikasa smiled, and Jean felt his stomach flip.

"Thank you, Jean."

He wanted to hug her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to shout "I love youd to kiss her. He wanted to shout "I love you." But the other part of him still felt angry and sad about her running away.

Some of her memories are back? Good.

Can she erase the torturous days he and his children have been through? The cold shoulders and stares? Could she erase the panic he felt every time he went to the hospital to check if the unknown woman's dead body was hers? Could she erase the memory of his children's sad faces when they woke up one morning and realised he was no longer there?

During dinner, it was his turn to be quiet. He listened to his children ask Mikasa if she remembered specific events. Their faces would glow when she said yes and added more to the story.

After dinner, he prepared Mikasa for a bath, helped the kids put on their pajamas, and sent them to bed.

He almost dropped a plate when he felt two arms wrap around his waist. He soon felt her face against his back alongside her wet hair.

He knew what she was trying to do, comfort him. He always felt a sense of comfort when she hugged him from behind.

"Thank you for everything and I'm sorry." She whispered against his back.

He wanted to turn around and hug her, kiss her, and make love to her right there on the kitchen counter, but he didn't. He didn't know how far she remembered and didn't want to push his luck.

"I'm going to bed." He said, realising himself from her grip, not bothering to wait for an answer.

...

Mikasa watched as Jean ascended the stairs. Getting Jean's forgiveness was going to be harder than the children. Kids forgive easily, but grownups don't. It takes time.

She turned off the lights on the lower floor and went to her bedroom. She smiled when she saw Marco and Sasha laying on the bed, sleeping peacefully.

She quietly started to get dressed, but something caught the voters of her eye. One of Jean's button shirts was lying on a chair. She picked at the fabric and brought it through her nose. Pine wood filled her nostrils. She put on the shirt and chuckled at how big it was on her.

After making sure Hideko was comfortable and well rested in her crib, Mikasa went to bed and fell asleep alongside her other two children.

....

Her stomach was too big. So large that her usual shirts felt too tight around her.

Jean offered her one of his button-down shirts. She put it on and left the lower part open, letting her bump be more visible and Jean put his warm big hand around it.

That night, the baby was refusing to fall asleep, and they made that fact known when giving Mikasa hard kicks.

"Your son is kicking my bladder," Mikasa playfully teased.

"Really?" He teased. He looked at the bump and put his face near it. "Now why are you doing that to Momma? Huh?" He kissed her bump. His stubble made her giggle. "Let her rest! She needs it!"

"Keep talking. He's calming down!" She said.

"Okay! Your mom may think you're a boy, but I have a feeling you're a girl." He caressed her bump, and Mikasa did the same thing with his hair. "Either way, I… We can't wait to meet you. Love you."

....

She opened her eyes and smiled. Marco was next to her. That memory was when she was pregnant for the first time. They were both excited for their first child and talked to the bump almost every day so that he would recognize their voices when he was born.

She brought her children closer to her and kissed their heads.

She wished Jean was here to cuddle with them. She wished she could be in his arms and feel his warmth and the familiar vibrations of his chest when he lightly snored.

She managed to find a way to fix her relationship with the children. Now, she needs to work on Jean's as well.

...

The first thing she did when she woke was prepare breakfast.

Marco and Sasha came down and happily ate breakfast.

She could hear Hideko starting to cry from upstairs and soon after she heard Jean going to the room and comforting her.

They came down soon after. Jean refused to make eye contact. He thanked Mikasa when she gave him a bowl of Hideko's food. That was the only time he uttered something to her all morning.

After preparing the children for school, Mikasa arranged some snacks for Marco and Sasha and bid them goodbye. It was just Mikasa, Jean, and Hideko.

And it was the perfect opportunity to talk to Jean.

"After I put Hideko down for her morning nap. Can we talk?" She asked him.

Jean took a while to answer. "OK."

Mikasa hurried through her task of putting Hideko to sleep. After putting her in the crib, Mikasa took a deep breath and went outside, where Jean was.

He sat at the picnic table. She sat down. They sat in silence.

"It's going to start snowing soon." She started trying to break the tension.

"Yeah you're right. The kids are going to love it. Making snowmen and what not."

Mikasa chuckled, but her expression turned somber soon after. She looked down and rubbed her hands together.

"Jean, I am so sorry for what I did. For what I did to you. The children. To run away like a coward. I'm sorry for all the hurt I caused."

He doesn't say anything.

"I don't want forgiveness. I just want you to know I will regret the way I treated you all for the rest of my life and I will do whatever you want to make up for it."

Jean remains silent, and Mikasa tries not to cry.

Mikasa almost feels a sense of déjà vu with the situation, and she's just waiting for him to utter the words "I hate you, Mikasa". She was never meant to be loved. Mikasa should accept that fate.

One tear falls down when she hears him get up from his seat. Before she could wipe it away, two hands gripped her shoulders and turned her around. She looks at him with wide eyes and waits for him to open his mouth and say those words.

But they don't come.

His hands leave her shoulders and grab her face. He brings her closer to him and locks their lips together. It was at that moment that Mikasa realised how much she missed his kisses and gladly and more passionately kissed him back.

They separated, both with bruised lips and heavy breathing.

"Do you love me?" He asks almost desperately.

"Yes."

"Do you love our children?"

She puts her hands on his hands.

"With all my heart."

"Then please don't ever leave us." He said it with clenched teeth, holding back tears.

"I won't. I promise." She put her arms around his and pulled him closer. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love our children."

He grabbed her waist and put her on the panic table. He made love to her right there. Throughout their love making, Mikasa kept saying "I love you" and Jean just kept gripping her tighter.

When they both reached their climax, they put some space between them. They put their foreheads against one another and closed their eyes.

[aussiepoguepunk]

Perfect Storm pt3 (JJ Maybank x reader)

Summary: heartbreak is hurting JJ in more ways than one.

Warning: angst, mention of pain, crying, JJ's lungs, smut,

Part1 part2

_____

Why would you do that?” JJ tried to stop himself, but going on not knowing, it was killing him. In that moment JJ was more vulnerable than he had ever been in front of another living soul. He was anxious and confused, his throat burning as a consequence of the sobs that filled his sleep. Heartbreak and desperation tightening around his lungs, awaking that all too familiar pain in his chest.

 “If you rejected me, fine. If nothing happened an-and we kept-'' JJ paused, his lungs tightening. “-kept on the way we’ve always been, I-I-I wouldn’t be confused,” Tears had begun streaming down JJ’s cheeks and he didn’t care at this point. “but..but why kiss me if you were just gonna ...I-I…” JJ ran both his hands through his hair, only making it messier in doing so. “I don’t understand.” he whispered, letting himself cry again with his head in his hands. The sound of his sadness echoing quietly through the van.

Y/n felt her heart shatter. She’d made a mistake in thinking he didn’t have feelings for her.

JJ’s muscles tensed from the unexpected contact. Y/n having wrapped her arms around the boy, one around his back, the other coming under his chin.

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” She rested her head lightly on his shoulder that shook with each of the boys’ quiet cries. “I was trying to prevent anything from getting too complicated. When you said you had a thing for me I misunderstood and thought it was just in a sexual way.” She hugged him tighter. “I never meant to hurt you.”

JJ tried to stop crying but his lungs felt like they were on fire. In an attempt to cope, even though he knew it would do nothing, he clutched the fabric that covered his chest. A weak cry of pain barely leaving his mouth. 

Y/n removed her arms from around the blonde. “JJ, please stop crying” she brought her hands to his face, getting him to face her. It was then that she saw his red puffy eyes. JJ had always been a master of puppy dog eyes, so to see their beautiful blue colour stained with sadness was unbearable. He still held his chest, strands of his hair sticking out in all directions.

“It...it hurts.” JJ sobbed, beginning to move away. Y/n pulled him back to her.

“I know, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I should have talked to you about it, I was just-”

“N-No my...my lungs” he managed to correct her.

It took Y/n a second to realize what he was talking about, but once she had her only concern was him. Well, more than before. 

“Shit. Okay, do you think you can move to the back of the van? Maybe lay down.” Y/n asked, a new tone of concern and care taking over her voice. JJ only shook his head, breathing becoming more difficult as he continued to cry. 

“What-how do you usually stop the pain?” Y/n tried not to sound alarmed.

“I... c-c-calm.” JJ whimpered.

“Alright just… hey JJ...hey come on” she tried to get him to look at her again but he was beginning to panic.

There were probably a dozen other things y/n could have done but she didn’t have time to think about them all, she just went with her gut. Guiding JJ out from behind the steering wheel, she pushed his shoulders back. Y/n sat herself on one of JJ’s legs and took his face in her hands, kissing him gently. JJ froze, his breath caught in his throat, letting out a long exhale when Y/n pulled away.

“You’re okay J. I got you, alright.” she hummed. JJ looked up at her, his breathing slowly steadying as he tried to speak. “Shhh. Breathing first. Talking later.” Y/n hushed, pushing back stray hairs that had fallen on the boy's forehead.

JJ let himself lean into her touch, the fiery pain in his chest gradually dying. His fingers toyed with the hem of the sweatpants pockets to further calm his nerves and focused on Y/n as she fixed his disheveled hair, listening to her sigh quietly once she brought her attention back to him. JJ closed his eyes at the feeling of gentle hands on the back of his neck, moving his hands up from the pockets of the sweatpants to hold her sides. It was a peaceful moment, the boys breathing stabilizing as a welcoming warmth fluttered in his stomach.

After a small movement on Y/n’s behalf the warmth and anything JJ felt was feeling overshadowed, a grunt being drawn from the surfer. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Y/n panicked, trying to move away when JJ held her sides tighter, releasing whimper that sounded desperate, and more needy.

“nothi- mmh- Nothing’s wrong, just-” He tried to speak but JJ had become painfully aware of the placement of Y/n’s knee and where it kept grazing everytime she moved while she straddled one of his legs.

“Oh, God! P-Please stop moving!” JJ pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut when Y/n’s knee brushed against his groin again.

“Am I hurting you? I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be too heavy.” With a small voice she apologised and began to push herself off of him, only to be pulled back.

“No! Fuck. You’re not too heavy, Y/n.” JJ took a quick glance between the two before letting his head fall back on the seat . “Y-Your knee just isn’t in the best place for you to keep moving around like that.” 

Her face glowed red once Y/n noticed what was happening. A tingling sensation beginning between her thighs.

“oh”

“If you could just- mgh- just give me a minute to-mmh” he stopped when she began to litter his jaw with kisses.

“I’m...here...to...help you J” she whispered against his neck.

“Let’s move to the back then” JJ gestured to the vans back seat.

A hoodie and JJ’s boxers were all that kept them apart as he pulled her to sit on his leg again, desperate kisses and needy hands bringing them closer. Gripping her hips firmly, he guided her centre to slowly rock back and forth on his thigh, cherishing the little whines she released at the contact. The pace he kept her at was torture. Fighting against JJ’s stong hold, she did anything she could to go even the slightest bit faster. 

His thigh glistened from her arousal, feeling himself grow harder while the sounds of her wetness moving against him filled his ears.

“p-ple-ease” she breathed, gripping his shoulder tightly, trying to grind down on him more.

“You want more, baby?” he teased, somehow slowing the pace even more. She nodded eagerly, biting her lip to suppress her moans.

“You can have my fingers. Do you want that, angel?” JJ slid his right hand to rest on the inside of Y/n's leg that sat between his.

“Please J” she begged, letting a needy whimper slip past her lips.

“Well since you asked so nicely...” Carefully JJ caressed her inner thigh, making his way upwards, eventually beginning to massage her. He moved his fingers up and down through her folds, spreading them apart to toy with her clit between two fingers. Y/n gasped at touch, tingles of pleasure swirling through her. But just as it had begun, it disappeared, the wonderful feeling vanishing for only a moment as JJ freed her from the hoodie that covered her naked body. He resumed his previous actions, now using his other hand to tenderly caress her breasts. 

“Move your leg over, baby” JJ instructed, removing his hands. 

"but I like it here." Y/n whined, displeased once again with the loss of touch.

JJ pulled her forward kissing her sweetly, leaning next to her ear "So do I, baby. But I'd like you grinding on my dick even more" he whispered, his sentence very near being enough to make the girl cum then and there. 

God how she wanted him, both in the purest and most scandalous way. 

Y/n shifted her body to straddle JJ, resting her hands on his stomach as he laid back against the seat. His many hours of manual labour in different jobs had most certainly played off, leaving him with an abdomen that would put famous sculptures to shame. 

Profanities fell from her mouth, rolling her hips over the surfers tightly clothed hard-on. The girl bit her lip to suppress the uncontrollable expressions of pleasure when JJ's hips bucked upwards from underneath her. 

"This is great and all babe" he panted, slowing down the pace and lifting Y/n's hips so that she would hover barely centimeters off of him. "but if we keep going, I'm gonna cum in my boxer" 

There was a moment of silence, Y/n trying to think of words to say, all sensibility blurred for pleasure. 

JJ rushed to fill the quiet "if you don't wanna go any further, tell me. I won't do anything you don't want to." He explained. 

Y/n was happy that JJ was being a gentleman about things, it was very reassuring, but right now he looked so good layed back on that seat, torso coated from perspiration as his hands gripped her thighs. She'd much prefer to skip the chivalry. 

Anticipation began to shape her thoughts, mind imagining all the ways the two of them could express their affections. She quivered feeling her wetness leek down her inner thigh, a needy whimper leaving her.

"JJ. For my sanity and yours, can we skip over the whole 'taking it slow' thing?" She pleaded, shifting under JJ's hold in desperation of any sort of friction.

Without a word the boy lifted her from his lap. The cool leather of the seat sent goosebumps rippling over her body when it came in contact with her warm skin. 

JJ stood, removing his boxers swiftly. The bulge that previously occupied his underwear had displayed his size well, his erection now free from the constricting fabric. 

The blonde kneeled between Y/n's legs, leaving a trail of kisses upwards until their eyes met once again. 

"There are so many things I wanna do to you right now." JJ sighed, moving his fingers teasing between Y/n's thighs. He was driving her crazy.

"Can you just fuck me." y/n suggested, entirely flustered. 

JJ pretend to think for a moment. "Well I suppose eating you out can wait for another time." 

Before long the van began to rock with every movement, every thrust JJ made. The sound of Y/n panting his name was as sweet as he had dreamed. 

"Sounds so beautiful, baby." He'd whisper in her ear, kissing along her jaw, every now and then groaning when her fingernails would dig into his back. All of it building, every moan and kiss leading up to their peak. 

The climax was blissful, pure serenity away from the lighting of the storm. 

JJ rested his forehead on hers, Y/n's chest heaving up and down quickly. 

"I'm really glad we could work out our differences." JJ laughed lazily. 

"oh yeah, I really think it strengthened our relationship." y/n smiled moving wet hair away from JJ's face. 

He pulled her in to rest her head on his chest. They laid there staring at the roof peaceful and content, but something seemed off with JJ. A look of concentration painted across his face, staring at the roof as thought it was presenting him with a math problem.

"You okay, J?" Y/n ask lifting her head from his chest. JJ contemplated his answer, nervous that he might mess up the moment.

"Are we- um... you and I…" he was cut off with a soft and loving kiss.

"Yeah. We are." Y/n nodded, bitting her lip.

The blanket now comfortably draped over both of them, they held each other close for the rest of the night.

_____

I feel like the ending could have been better. :/ but I still like it.

Taglist: @taylathornton @skyfallgazingstar @poguesarah @mysticalhearteagle-trin @wannabejjmaybankswhore @gia-maybank

[vdlest]

What could've been?

Characters:

Bucky Barnes x ExGF!Reader

Summary:

Bucky Barnes was your high school sweetheart, you two were the best couple back then, but he left you for his future. Eight years later, your assistant knocked on your office door and tells you that there's someone who wants to talk to you, turns out it's the man who broke your heart.

Warning:

Angst

Mention of Miscarriage

Heartbreak

"Ms. Y/L/N, there's someone who keeps on insisting to see you. He said it's an important matter," your assistant, Liz, told you when she knocked on your office door.

Your brows furrowed, "Who is it?" you asked.

"He said he's Heath Ledger," Liz skeptically said, "Well, it's impossible but that's what he told me to tell you when you asked who he is."

There's only one person that came through your mind when Liz mentioned the name of the late Heath Ledger. If there's only one person who would use that as his nickname, that would be your ex-flame from high school, the person behind your greatest heartbreak.

"Should I send him in or--"

"Yeah, send him in," you said without letting Liz finish her sentence.

Bucky Barnes may be your greatest heartbreak but he was your great love, he taught you a lot of things in life, love, and being responsible. And you don't hold any grudges against him anymore since you know he left you because it's for his career, for his dreams. It did hurt you, it did break your heart but you loved him too much, to the extent of letting him go and find his happiness.

You have moved on and you're okay now.

Liz went outside and a few seconds after she opened the door and let your ex enter.

The moment Bucky entered your office, your eyes met his. You stood up and smiled at him.

He's still good-looking, charming, and being a lawyer suits him. Your eyes landed on his ring finger to check if there's a band that will say that he's already married, but he's not and somehow it made you sigh in relief on the inside.

"Hey," you extended your hand towards him, "It's nice to see you."

He shakes your hand and gave you a small smile, not the usual charming smile he had back in high school, "I'm happy to see you again and I'm happy that you let me see you."

"Well, I can't say no to Heath Ledger," you joked and both of you chuckled.

When he laughed, you saw the man you fell in love with years ago. That was the happiness you were hoping to see in him when he entered your office. But no, you saw sadness in his eyes.

As soon as you two stopped laughing, you asked him to sit down and asked Liz to bring coffee for both of you.

"So," you crossed your legs as you sit in comfort on your swivel chair, "What brings you here?"

Bucky took a deep breath, "I bumped into Nat last weekend in a resto and she kinda told me about some things about you," he said.

Your smile slowly faded away when you heard what Bucky said. You know something's not right when you tried to call Nat yesterday and she did not answer you. Now you know why.

"She told me that you never got mad at me for leaving you, for choosing my career over you. She told me that you always defended me against those people whose belief is that I didn't love you for real, but I want you to know that I did, I loved you," he said.

Loved? It somehow made your heart flinch after hearing that word in the past tense.

But you managed to nod at him, "I know, Buck. I know you really loved me, that's the reason why I defended you," you gave him a small smile.

"Natasha told me you were pregnant when I left."

You knew it.

Natasha would tell Bucky about it for sure. She was that friend of yours who was persistent about how you should go after Bucky and tell him that he's gonna have a baby with you. She was annoyed when you said you wanted to let Bucky go and follow his dreams, but she eventually understand why.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky asked, clenching his jaws, fighting the urge to cry, "Y/N, we were supposed to have a baby, to have a family. You knew you were pregnant when I broke up with you, right? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I love you, Bucky," you finally break down, letting your tears run down your cheeks. You look down for a second to gather your thoughts, "Buck," you sniffled as you look at him, "I don't want to hold you back. I know that's your dream and I can't ask you to give that up. I want you to chase after it. I understand your decision of leaving, and I know our baby would too."

"But--"

You stopped him by grabbing his hand and tapping it, "I'm sorry that I hid it from you, but I know it was the best thing to do back then. I don't want to complicate things for you because back then, you would always tell me how much you wanted to become a lawyer, and I wanted you to become one as well. So I hid it," you smiled at him even though tears are forming in your eyes already.

Just when you're about to retrieve your hands from him, he suddenly grabbed it and squeezed it, no sign of letting go of it anytime soon.

"But I could've been there for you, I could've been with you in that journey," he used his other hand to held your hand even more, "Maybe you won't lose our baby if I was there."

The night you came home from your afternoon shift in the library near your apartment, you experienced heavy bleeding. You drove yourself over to the hospital, you were so strong and so you thought you could save your baby, but the baby didn't. You lost the baby and you almost died that night for all the blood loss, it's good thing Nat and Wanda were there for you.

When you lost your baby, you got depressed, knowing that you already lost Bucky and now you lost the only precious thing that could remind you of him and your love for him.

"I'm sorry for leaving you, y/n," his voice is breaking when he apologized and when you met his eyes, you saw tears running down his cheeks, "I became selfish. I could have chosen you instead of my fucking dream."

"Then I won't be able to forgive myself if you chose to do that," you retorted, giving him a small smile, "If there's anything good that came out of everything that has happened, it is that we both were able to achieve our dreams. You know why? I have always believe that it's because we have our guardian angel up there in heaven, guiding us and answering all our prayers and wishes. Maybe that angel of ours wanted us to be happy in our ways. So Bucky," you sighed and nodded, "There's no need for you to apologize because I loved you unconditionally, and unconditionally means letting you go as well, letting you choose the happiness that you deserve."

Bucky did not answer you, he gently let go of your hand and put both of his hands against his face. All you could hear was his sob.

Seeing him breakdown in front of you makes you realize that you hasn't stopped loving him. He was and will always be the love of your life.

You stood up and walked over him, "It's okay, Bucky. I already forgave you and it's time for you to forgive yourself," you slowly hugged him.

You know exactly what it feels like to be in Bucky's place – you used to be so guilty for losing your baby. But your parents and your friends reminded you that everything happens for a reason, and even though that baby did not go through, it is not yet the end of the world, you still have a reason to fight and move forward.

And so you did.

"I just...I don't know...I don't know if I could forgive myself for being so fucking asshole and selfish," Bucky uttered while his head is against your shoulder, "I could have been a good partner to you and a good father to our baby."

You pull yourself away from him by cupping his face, your eyes met, and saw so much guilt in it, "Buck, it is not your fault. Maybe you did not become a good partner, a good father just yet, but you were a good man. But if it will make you feel better to be able to apologize to our baby, you can, and even if our baby won't answer, you would feel in your heart that you're forgiven a long time ago," you let go of his left cheek and squeezed his hand, "You want me to bring you to her?"

"Her?" he chuckled, "We were supposed to have a princess?"

You shrugged your shoulders, "I don't know, I just felt like we were supposed to have a girl," you sighed, "So do you want to go and visit her?"

Bucky nodded.

"Then let's go."

Before you could turn your back on him, he did not let go of your hand, instead, he pulled you back to him, and the next thing you know, his lips were pressed against yours.

It has been a long time since you felt his kiss, his warmth, but still, it feels like it was only yesterday when you last kissed him when you last gave and surrender yourself to him.

When you pulled away, you smiled at him, "Our princess is waiting for you."

•••

Bucky did not let go of your hand the moment you two stopped in a garden-themed cemetery. It was a cemetery for all the unborn children, the place was filled with flowers, there's also a lake, almost like heaven.

"This is a cemetery?" Bucky tilt his head right and left to make sure you two were in the right place.

You chuckled as you gave him a nod, "Nat discovered this place, she said this place was the heaven of all the unborn babies, like our princess. It's like heaven, that's why I wanted her to be buried here," you explained.

You and Bucky walked hand in hand and you two stopped in front of a grave that you would always visit.

"Here she is," you said as you show Bucky the resting place of your princess.

Bucky slowly walked towards the grave and saw what was engraved on top of it — Eternal Heaven of Bucky and Y/N's Angel.

After reading the engraved words, Bucky's tears automatically run down his cheeks. He was having a breakdown again and even if wanted to stop himself from crying, he can't. Seeing the baby he could have if only he chose not to leave Y/N for his career. He kept on telling himself that he could have listened to his heart.

It was his dream to become a lawyer, and it broke his heart when he found out he had to go to Berkeley to fulfill that dream of his. He knew a long-distance relationship won't work for both of you, knowing that he won't be able to stand not seeing you in so long and knowing that there were so many guys after you. So he had to make a choice. He had to let go of you and have your freedom than being stuck in a long-distance relationship that will only break your heart every single day.

But after finding out a few days ago from Natasha the consequences of his idiot decision, he felt like he wanted to rewind everything and choose to be with you instead, choose to fight for your relationship instead.

But even if he wanted to do that, he can't anymore. He can't change anything anymore.

"I'm sorry," Bucky brushed his fingers through his hair before he knelt in front of the grave, "I know I could have been there with you and your mom, I know I could have been a good dad to you, but I was so stupid. I'm sorry," he lamented.

Tears began to fall from your eyes when you heard him apologize and talk to your unborn child. You see his guilt, his regret, and you know it will take some time before he could finally forgive himself, but you realized he will be only able to do that if you two will work it out together.

So you knelt beside him and pulled him towards you to comfort him, "It's gonna be okay, Bucky. I know you will find your way to forgive yourself, but we want you to know that we were able to forgive you a long time ago now, it's because," you cupped his face and made you face him, "It's because we love you."

He shook his head, "I'm not deserving of this lo--"

Before he could finish his sentence, you pulled his face towards you and kiss him, made him feel that no other man is deserving of your love but him.

All these years you never dated anyone, you did not let any man enter your life because you knew it would all be just a lie, knowing that your heart will always belong to James Barnes.

Some people may call you a fool for all the things you endured for Bucky, but that's love, that's what love is for you. When you love a person, you love them completely, no questions asked, whether they caused you so much pain or not. Love is love.

When you pull away from him, you sniffled and smiled at him, "I know it will take a lot of time before you could finally forgive yourself, but take all the time you need for grieving, for regretting, but don't blame yourself because none of these is your fault," you told him.

"How can you still see me as a good man after everything I have done? How can you still love me after all the pain and misery I've put you in?" he curiously asked, still tears are in his eyes. "I left you, and here you are, still believing that I'm deserving of you and your love," he added.

You smiled at him and cupped his cheeks again, "It's because that what love is for me, Buck," you wiped his tears away, "No matter how much pain I've been through because of what happened to us, I would never blame it all to you because I chose this, I chose to be so damn in love with you. I know what I went through is a lot, but if I would be given a chance to do it all over again, I definitely would because this is the best life experience. It also took me so long before I could finally accept what happened and forgive myself for losing our child, but time healed all my wounds and I know it will heal yours too," you promised him.

"When I first found out everything from Natasha, all I wanted was to run away again, to run as far as I could because I can't believe that I have hurt badly the only woman I love so damn true, but then I talked to my best friend, Steve," he grabbed both of your hands from his cheeks and held it, "He told me that I should face what I did and deal with my guilt and regrets. I thought seeing you would make me feel nothing, but when I saw your photos on Facebook, seeing you so successful and happy without me, I wished I never left, I wished that I was still with you, I wished that I am still your partner. I realized that I never stopped loving you."

Those were the words you have been wanting to hear from him since he entered your office earlier. You wanted him to tell you that he still loves you, that he never stopped wanting to be with you.

"Then maybe that's another reason why you fate made you see me today, maybe it wanted me to be with you as you take your time to heal yourself," you pondered.

"You'd still choose to be with me?"

"Always."

-v.dl

[shotorozu]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself ❤️ please remember to take breaks and drink some water !!!!

i was wondering if i could request headcanons for izuku, denki, and kirishima comforting a reader (gender neutral if you don’t mind) after their birthday absolutely sucked? it’s my birthday and my mom went out of her way to ruin it, my best friend is barely talking to me which idk why, i got my period which makes me sick, and it’s finals so i’ve spent the day crying, sleeping, and studying. if not i completely get it!!!! don’t feel pressured ❤️

s/o’s ruined birthday

character(s) : midoriya izuku, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used; gender neutral, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : comfort, (angst if you squint) fluff (x reader)

warning(s) : reader’s mom being mean, and waking up to cause unnecessary chaos just because she felt like it :( period mention in izuku’s but it’s not,, even descriptive. and it’s i one bullet don’t worry :))

note(s) : omg i relate to you so much anon, my past birthdays got ruined by mom just because she woke up on the wrong side of the bed 💀 and this year i got my period the day before my birthday— so i was cramping the entire time 😐 in short, i relate to you ‼️and i’m sorry your birthday got ruined :( i hope this helps

im also sorry for the delay :,) also no proofread 🧍‍♀️

➽───────────────❥

midoriya izuku

help omg he’s in a state of panic

HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED— like,, the person that cares about your birthday the most (besides you) is him‼️

izuku must’ve planned things out precisely, even going to the point that he’d buy your birthday present 2 months ahead

because he’s just so worried about messing things up. he’d never live it down if he failed this one day

he walks excitingly to your room, ready to pick you up for the day— since he wanted to take you out on a birthday lunch, to celebrate the day

well, it was mostly for a birthday lunch, but also because he wanted you to feel better

you’ve told him that the day had started out on a wrong foot— since you woke up to your best friend ignoring you for a reason you couldn’t figure out.

you reassured him that you’d find out later, but regardless, you wanted to cheer up— and not waste this day on sadness, and have a nice lunch with izuku.

“today is going to be wonderful, i claim it!” izuku exclaims excitingly, gently squeezing your hand— and you can’t help but be uplifted by his words

temporarily

you felt a weird feeling in your stomach, and it was all familiar too, the cramping in your abdomen—

oh, it was that. and izuku was able to recognize what it was. way to start of this birthday experience, right?

the both of you guys end up dashing to the nearest washroom, taking care of it immediately— there’s a concerned look on his face

“are you okay? are you in any pain?” he’d ask, running the back of his hand along your cheek in an attempt to comfort you

“i’m fine, izuku, it’s all good. now, let’s go!” you’d beam in excitement, which started a chain reaction— and lightened up izuku’s mood.

the discussion was put to rest on that, and the two of you went on like normal— as the both of you headed to the designated restaurant

there would only be more misfortunate events to happen, as it appeared to be that the moment you and izuku stepped in the restaurant

the waitress that was serving you both had an interest in your boyfriend, even though you were RIGHT there to see all of it

and oh wow, it was so subtle— you wouldn’t have guessed from the airy laughs, her lingering gazes, and the way her hand would touch his shoulder

and also the way she’d get your order wrong, or she’d spill your drink on you as an ‘accident’

oh and your boyfriend definitely knew about what she felt, and he was not pleased

she even went as far as to ask him if the date was boring, and if the complementary cake would make up for it— her efforts on being subtle making quite the jump.

which made you super frustrated and just overall,, not good, on your own birthday— and even izuku could see that, despite you not saying a word

so, izuku quickly paid for the food, and the both of you guys bailed the restaurant swiftly

it was still pretty early in the day, but all you wanted to do was sleep, and forget that today was even supposed to be a special day.

he left you alone in your room for you to change into comfier clothes— to your requests, and when he came back, you were in a state of distraught

and he’s super bothered, brows furrowed and everything. why must you be sad on your own birthday? how did this all go wrong? and how can he fix this?

“please don’t cry, Y/N, i’m so, so sorry.” he apologizes, his hands rubbing your back as tears dripped into your pillow

“i don’t,, know how this happened! if i knew the staff there were like,, that, i would’ve not picked that place. today was supposed to be an amazing day for you but..”

“don’t apologize izuku,” you reassured, rubbing the incoming tears away, “none of this was your fault, i love your efforts! this,, just sucks.”

“i know sweetie, i’m sorry for that,” he rubs your stomach when your face scrunches up in pain, “you know what? i’ll be right back!”

he quickly leaves for a bit, only to come back with a selection of desserts, your gift and his laptop “we can watch disney movies! or well,, anything you want. i know that disney movies make you feel better!”

you stare at the selection of desserts, and you finally smile, “yeah, yeah. that doesn’t sound bad.”

he sighs in relief, and presents you your birthday gift “open this while i set things up!”

you stare eyes wide at the bundle of desserts, “thank you, izuku!”

“anything for you, lovely.” he presses his lips onto the temples of your cheeks— happy to see you smiling

oh and he definitely filed a complaint to that restaurant when you weren’t looking, the girl got fired :))

kaminari denki

also in a state of panic

his plan for the day wasn’t very descriptive, and he decided that he was just going to go off what he wanted to do

rather than what izuku did— which was planning in advance.

‘i’m just gonna go off what i want, no plans made!’ is what he told himself in his head, as he went straight for your room

he’s puzzled when he enters your room, and sees a not-so-happy Y/N, face contorted in dismay

“is,, something on your mind? it’s Y/N day! why do you look so,,”

“sad?” you finish his sentence, “ah, no!” you shake your head— dismissing your expression just now “it’s just that,, my best friend is ignoring me. i don’t know why though, and she won’t tell me.”

and he’s like 😃❓what kind of friend ignores someone on their birthday? he’s gonna find out later, for sure!

“don’t worry, babe! we can always find out later, right? today should be filled with happiness, right?” he jabs your abdomen, tickling you— effectively earning a giggle

“right,” you smile, because denki always knows how to make you feel better. “let’s go!” you exclaim, holding his hand as you leave your room.

yes i’m reusing the best friend ignoring you think im sorry i can’t think

so kaminari’s walking you to the place he figured would be a great place to celebrate your birthday at— for once, he doesn’t look that lost

“are you sure you know where you’re going?” you’d tease, which would cause him to intensively reassure you that he does

“of course i do!” he says proudly, “i’m just gonna do my thing, y’know? i’m in charge of the destinations”

and before you know it, the both of you guys run into someone you weren’t expecting.

your bestie 🤩 oh the luck you genuinely have.

they scowl just looking at you, and denki didn’t like it— like,, the nerve? ignoring you and then giving you the skank eye?

but still, denki tried to keep a conversation, “didn’t expect to see you here! how are you?” he stammers, trying his best to make the tense atmosphere disappate

“i’m doing good, denki!” they exclaim excitingly, almost as if you weren’t there “where’re you heading off to?”

denki tilts his head in surprise, “y’know,, just heading off to celebrate lovely Y/N’s birthday, of course!” you give denki a small, tight lipped smile

but your best friend doesn’t seem to budge, “who?” they reply, as if they don’t see you

it’s disheartening, honestly. disagreement are inevitable but,, you didn’t understand nor did he

denki’s even more confused, but decides to cut the conversation of it’s length, thinking that the misfortunes could just end at that

they didn’t stop there

you’ve also managed to run into your mother outside of the restaurant, when you were taking a quick phone call

she, normally— would’ve been very pleased to see you, let alone on this special day

but it appeared to be that she wasn’t happy at all, and in fact— showed that very well when she saw who you were with

her eyes narrowing, “this is who you decided to spend your birthday with?” she asks, a smile is plastered on her lips, but it lacks authenticity when she glances back into the restaurant

you nod, feeling a little too intimidated to even speak with the mood she’s in— she glances at your boyfriend, who’s oblivious to your encounter with your mother

“keep your mouth in check, child. make sure you don’t do anything to embarrass yourself even more.” and with that, she leaves— her words lingering in your mind

you enter the restaurant again, feeling 10x shittier than you were when you left to take that quick phone call

you’re aware that your mother would support any relationship you were in, but you could tell that she didn’t like denki— but accepted him because ‘whatever makes you happy’

it was a downer, you didn’t need this today— and your sudden mood change was bound to get noticed by your boyfriend

“what happened?” he asks with concern, “did bakugou rain on your parade?” he asks, and you would’ve laughed but,, you honestly couldn’t find yourself to

“oh, it’s just..” you struggle to find yourself finishing your sentence, when the employees of the restaurant start singing you a happy birthday

you’d hate to say it but,, your mood was like that for the entire date, even when you brushed it off like nothing— and acted as if nothing went wrong

and when you flop onto your bed, eyes welling up in tears— he panics

“oh no, no, no!” he panics, dropping down to comfort you “baby what’s wrong? did you not enjoy today?”

“denki, i enjoyed today, of course.” you state, hands wandering up to pet his blond hair

“but then, why,, are you crying right now? i don’t want you to feel sad today! i know i’m not someone that looks serious, but i’ll definitely make things work!” he states with determination, and denki finds relief when he hears you laugh

“i saw my mom today”

“oh,” his brows furrowed, “i’m sorry, sweets. did she say anything rude?”

“oh uhm, im not sure if she meant it but it did hurt my feelings,” you simply state, not wanting to give the specifics, “plus with the best friend thing,,”

he’s silent for a bit, before he speaks “you know what? it’s okay. it’ll be okay. your best friend- not sure why she’s like that, but she’ll come around. and with your mom? don’t worry, and don’t let it worry you! it’s your special day, and you will feel special.”

denki backs away, and before you knew it, sparks radiate from all around his body— making sure he doesn’t touch you at all

“yaaaay!” he’s drowsy, and he dumbly raises his thumb high— which makes you burst out into giggles and pure laughter

“denkii, you cannot keep doing this!” you exclaim, but you still laugh when he replies with the same comedic ‘yaaay!’

you finally calm down, and you lean to press a kiss onto his lips, “thank you, denki. i,, really appreciate your efforts.”

he might feel stupid at the moment, but he’s glad that you’re happy again.

kirishima eijirou

looks like his usual self, but he’s internally panicking— he just figured that he needed to get himself together, for you

he had an idea on what he was going to do for you on your birthday, he even prepared a gift for you— 3 weeks in advanced (with the help of bakugou, his secret wingman)

it wasn’t an impromptu celebration like kaminari, but it also wasn’t super planned out like midoriya

eager, he approaches your room to give you a simple happy birthday— followed by a small shower of kisses

there was only one class for that day, so the rest of the day would’ve been lenient, right? wrong

on the contrary, his plans are disrupted when he sees you scrambled on the floor, notebooks splayed across you, as you memorized various things all at once

“h-hey, happy birthday!” he greets with his usual smile, and it falters slightly when you don’t showcase that delightful smile

“hey eijirou,” you say, eyes glued onto a section of your notebook “apparently, two extra topics were added into the math and physics finals test! and i had no clue!”

eijirou probably should be worried like you, since the written finals exams does somewhat impact his grade— and on top of that, the finals are in 3 days

and he knows that he should let you prepare BUT! it is your birthday,, why should he not celebrate your birthday?

“i feel like you shouldn’t be too worried about it babe, it’s your birthday after all!” he reassures, but he continues before you get to question him “you’re a hard working person, and even if you don’t absorb those extra topics— you could always run to bakugou, or yaoyorozu for a quick run down!”

he’s not wrong

you give a tired smile, a genuine one— which makes him silently cheer out of success “thank you, eijirou. i guess you’re right. it is my birthday, and i should be celebrating.”

and with that, eijirou takes you out for a simple celebration! he’d take you out for some food at a good restaurant, and then he’d take you out on a nice walk— as the both of you ate your dessert

he thinks that the celebration is going smoothly, despite the fact that you seemed fatigued, restless even— just from studying four extra topics back and fourth

otherwise— you seemed happy, eagerly blowing out the candles on the birthday cake the restaurant presented to you, and even grasping his arm closer as you ate your dessert

but it all crumbled down when you got one simple call that afternoon

looking at the caller’s id, it was your mother— who, otherwise would’ve been happy or at least calm on the other side of that phone, but you were greeted with hostility

“what are you doing?” she chides with a brash tone, and you try not to shiver, and when you answered that you were out celebrating with eijirou, she wasn’t pleased

“what?! just because it’s your damn birthday, doesn’t mean you get to relax around, kay? exams are this week! and you’re aware of what’s going to happen if you don’t pass, right?” though she’s not physically there, you can feel her sudden criticism

“..yes, mom.” you decide to take it all in, not wanting to anger her

“good.” and with that, she hangs up without a proper goodbye, the only time she acknowledged the current date was when she was scolding you

you brush it off, when you’re asked if you’re okay— the blatant yelling from your phone being difficult to ignore.

while the two of you start heading back to the dorms, you’re informed of quite the terrible news

“class 1-a, i must apologize since this is abrupt, but your math and physics finals are set to a day in advance, due to an urgent faculty meeting. but we can all assume that all of you have studied the material, right? take care, and don’t be out past curfew.”

this pushes your stress levels over the roof, and you ended up running back to the dorms— just to study the unfamiliar material

being your concerned boyfriend, the red head goes to check on you— only to be saddened to see you in such a distraught state on your bed, tears running down your face as you examined the material through watery eyes

“hey, sweetheart, it’s okay.. it’ll be okay,, i’m sorry that you feel this way, especially since i promised you a good day today!” despite displaying a gentle smile, you could sense that he was feeling terrible too

“don’t apologize,” you wipe your eyes, which only continue to generate more tears “i know you’ve tried, really! and i’m sorry that i had to bring you along. you definitely didn’t need to see all of that.”

he sits next to you on your bed, pulling the covers over your legs “i know it’s just,, i wish i could’ve done something more, y’know? i would’ve helped you study but you know that i’m well,, me!”

you giggle at his insinuation, and he moves closer to you, head leaning on your shoulder “man, i wish i knew what was going through the teachers’ heads. i could’ve— oh wait!”

he springs up, as if he suddenly remembered something important, and he sprints to his room

when eijirou comes back, he’s holding a tiny box, that has a bow— placed neatly on the center of the lid

“open it, babe!” he smiles, “i can’t believe i almost forgot! oh— just open your present!”

and when you open it, you’re ecstatic— unsure how to describe the sudden surge of happiness. “eijirou, you bought me a,, promise ring?”

he kisses your cheek briefly, unable to hide the blush adorning his cheeks “yeah,, you don’t have to accept if you’re not into jewelry! i could just switch it out for something—”

“no no, stop kiri!” you stop him in his tracks “i love it, so much. thank you for everything. especially for cheering the stressed and gloomy person i was today.”

he smiles, “it’s no issue, really. if my Y/N’s happy then i’ll be just as happy.”

and with that, you spent the rest of the day in eijirou’s affectionate arms— and you passed the exams with flying colors because kiri managed to get bakugou to give you a quick run through the day before

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

[milliedazzledust]

Unspoken (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request by @screechingdreamercollectorsblog : the reader lost all her family and also a twin sister. She’s in love with Bucky but he doesn't know and no one knows her story except Steve but he never told it as it was her decision. One day Wanda tells her "you don't know what it’s like to lose somebody especially a twin." And Reader said "Actually I do." And then She walks away. Bucky heard It and goes to talk to her and also they confess each other feelings. Also She starts an amazing friend ship with Wanda.

Words: 3183 words

A/N: So many ideas, I feel like this needs to be a several part story. Thanks for the request, this was fun to write -

She thought a lot about her family. The memory of their death, the circumstances that led to it, the guilt. It was all a constant reminder, every day, of what she lost. She often felt like she was walking with a shadow on her back, consuming what was left of light, making her into this gloomy person everyone was so afraid to get close to. In a way, she was glad. Her guilt made her believe living this way was her sentence and she couldn’t allow anybody else to carry her burden. One person knew though, the only hope on her pathway. Steve Rogers. He hadn’t been bold enough to ask her up front but instead waited, close enough so she knew he was there, until she was ready to confide in him. Late one night, he had found her crying on the rooftop of the Avengers tower. Silently, he had put a blanket on her shoulders and had sit next to her. Without looking at him, she had told him everything. There had been no judgment from the Captain, not even a look of pity. He promised he wouldn’t tell a soul and after that, she grew closer from the man she considered now family.

That’s how Steve picked up on what was happening in front of his eyes before anybody else. Everyday, he would catch Bucky’s eyes lingering on her. The Soldier often asked Steve about her, he could guess the sadness behind every broken smile. Behind her cracks, he could almost see his own. She reminded him a lot of what it had mean to become the Winter Soldier, of the pain his mind had endured as Hydra tore it into pieces. While he was curious of her past, he also understood that whatever it was, she hadn’t dealt with it. The grief was evident and he wanted nothing more than to help her anyway he could, but every time he took a step toward her, she took three more backward. Steve assured him it wasn’t his fault. They both could see the internal struggle within her, the raging battle between self-inflicted pain and sheer will to live again. So far, she hadn’t give in and instead opted for an illusion only Steve and Bucky weren’t falling for.

She wasn’t the only one feeling the overbearing weight of grief. That specific day marked the one year anniversary of their battle in Sokovia. There was an eerie, gloomy atmosphere inside the compound. For the Avengers, it was the reminder of a difficult battle, of many lives lost, of victory. For Wanda Maximoff, it was the day she lost her brother. She had barely left her bedroom and no one dared go speak to her. Natasha and Vision had gone to see how she was doing but she had refused the company. They could all hear her crying and had collectively silently agreed that it was better to let her process her feelings alone. Y/N was debating wether she should follow their example. She had been standing close to Wanda’s bedroom door for the past hour when she felt a presence next to her.

“You should go talk to her” She heard someone whisper.

She turned her head, her eyes landing on a pretty concerned Captain.

“Wil it really make a difference ?” She asked.

“She’s hurting” Steve answered. “Just like you”

The woman dropped her head.

“I’m not sure, I .. I won’t know what to say”

“You’ll know exactly what to say, Y/N. You’ve both lost a lot”

“So have you. So have everybody here”

He sadly nodded.

“Why does it have to be me ?”

“Because we’ve all grieved. We made peace with whatever happened to us. We don’t feel sadness, anger or guilt just thinking about whomever we lost.” He explained. “You do. Just like her.”

She pursed her lips.

“I can’t pretend to understand, Y/N, because I don’t. I see the mountain that is your pain everyday when I look into your eyes. And, behind this door is a friend who’s going through the same loss you’ve experienced. Even if you haven’t dealt with the death of your sister, you know what it was like for her to lose Pietro, to live without him, to not be capable to let yourself be alive when half of you isn’t anymore”

Hearing his words was enough to reopen the gigantic wound inside her chest. She knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, encouraging her with a soft smile.

“Alright. I’ll go”

She glanced at Wanda’s bedroom before looking back at Steve and swallowed the lump in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she closed the distance and knocked. Not waiting for an answer, she walked inside. She knew if she had ask Wanda, the Witch would have let her wait without an answer until she left.

The young woman was sitting on her bed, her gaze drifting into space. Y/N wasn’t sure she had even acknowledge her presence. All she could see was her soul bleeding an ocean through her eyes. When she sat next to her on the bed, Wanda tried to brush the tears away but it was useless. She couldn’t stop crying.

“I’m sorry you lost him” Y/N whispered.

She cursed under her breath, knowing those were in no way comforting words.

“If you came to tell me you understand, you can leave” She replied with a thick accent.

For a moment, Y/N did not say a word. She was thinking hard of something that could appease her friend, but her mind was blank.

“Are you also going to ask me if I’m okay” She heard Wanda say.

“What is the point ? I know you’re not”

She sighed.

“I’ve always hated that question. How are you suppose to know how you are if all you can feel is emptiness… It’s easier to say yes, put on a smile and turn your head”

“Is that why you’re here ? Are you expecting a yes or the truth ?”

“I already know the truth”

Wanda humorlessly chuckle.

“Are you going to pretend you know what I’m feeling ?” She told her with irony

“That’s the thing. I don’t need to pretend”

She felt her friend tense beside her.

“You should leave”

“Wanda…”

“No!” She shouted, getting up to put a distance between them. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m gonna be alright! I don’t need to hear it will hurt less with time, that I will forget ! Because I won’t, okay, I won’t!”

She started sobbing. For a split second, Y/N thought about hugging her, but she knew that this wouldn’t be a good idea. When her sister died, she couldn’t bear the hugs. They were so full of light and hope, such a bright contrast to the dark that was surrounding her. So she stayed on the bed, and watched her friend break down. Wanda needed the pain, she needed the anger, because they would inevitably lead to the last stage of grief. To life.

“Stop pretending to get this … this torture, because I can assure you, you don’t” Wanda vehemently told her, pacing around the room. “My heart is broken, okay ? It’s … It’s shattered. Not even in pieces, because he took those with him when he died.”

“Wanda …”

“No! You don’t know what it’s like to lose somebody !” Wanda yelled back. “Especially a twin!”

“Actually, I do”

Wanda instantly stopped walking and turned back to her friend, surprised. She watched Y/N playing with her hands, trying to keep the tears at bay, her eyes fixed on her lap, refusing to catch a glimpse of pity when she’ll start talking.

“It.. It doesn’t stop. The pain, I mean. It’s like this overbearing weight that crushes you every single minute of every single day. And when you get a moment to breath, a moment where you don’t feel your heart might explode of sadness, you feel guilty. So all that’s left of you now is pain and guilt. I can’t tell you it’ll get better, because it never did for me.”

She brushed the tears on her cheek as Wanda slowly sat back next to her.

“The world stopped when I lost her, my twin I mean” She continued, starring into space. “And I try, I swear I try to make it work again, but to this day all I keep asking myself is why her … why her and not…me. She was so much stronger than me, she deserved …”

A sob escaped her lips, preventing her from speaking.

“Steve told me I would be able to help you, because I understand your pain. But I can’t. What good would it do to you if I told you I feel like dying every time I think about my memories of her ?”

She humorlessly laughed.

“What good would it do if I confess I don’t want to live because I’m scarred of forgetting ? That I can’t breathe because each breath feels like I’ve cheated death ? That I’m becoming a void of darkness silently sinking ?”

They stayed silence before Wanda’s hand slowly came to hold hers. They spent a short moment without talking. Two woman with broken soul that understood each other on a level no one else’s could.

“You know ..” The Witch started to mutter. “Vis’ told me something once, and it stuck up on me ever since.”

“What was it ?”

“What is grief, if not love persevering”

A tear roll down Y/N’s cheeks, the words stabbing her right through the chest. Suddenly, she was up on her feet, alert and disoriented. This was sheer pain like she had rarely known, wide open scars bleeding through her soul.

“I can’t” She breathlessly told her friend. “I … I’m … I’m sorry Wanda I ca..”

And she fled the room. As soon as she stepped outside of it, she bumped into a muscular chest. Stopping in her tracks, she looked up. That’s when she saw it, what she dreaded the most. A look of pity. Bucky was standing in front of her, searching her eyes, his mouth open like the words were on the tip of his tongue yet he couldn’t voice any of them. He raised an arm toward her, a reflex to comfort the woman he cared the most about, but she was gone in a second. He turned back to glance at Wanda. The woman sadly smile and shook her head.

“Go get her” She simply told him.

And just like that, he was gone. He started by her bedroom, but she wasn’t there. He went to the lab, asked Tony and Bruce if they had seen her, but she wasn’t there. He passed by the gym, than their living room, but again, she was not there. He was almost running inside the building, going anywhere he could think of, but there was no sign of her. He was very frustrated when he crossed path with his best friend.

“Wha …” Steve started to ask.

“Y/N” Barnes only answered, almost out of breath.

The Captain hummed, watching his distress, knowing it was a bad time to ask him about it.

“She’s on the roof”

Bucky didn’t wait, not even hearing what Steve said next, and fled. He didn’t take the elevator and rushed up the stairs. It was a long way up but he did not care. All his mind was focused on was closing the distance between them. Finally, she was there. Sitting on the edge of the building, the sun shining so bright above their head.

“Please tell me you were not thinking of jumping” He said, half joking.

She didn’t turn around to look at him. She had felt his presence before he was even near her.

“The thought crossed my mind” She admitted.

He didn’t want to know if she was joking. Quietly, he stepped next to her and sat on the border, his legs dangling in the air.

“What happened ?” He inquired.

“I just … I thought I could help Wanda and…”

“That’s not what I’m asking” He cut her. “What happened to you Y/N ?”

She pursed her lips, turning for the first time to look back at him. She was almost expecting to see the pity in his eyes, but instead it had been replaced by worry.

“I had a family before the Avengers”

“A family you’ve lost” He guessed.

“…Yes. I couldn’t save them”

He raised his head toward her. She could see the millions of questions he had behind his stare. He was too polite to ask her but she knew he wanted to know. So she turned back to look at the garden in front of the compound, focused on the daisies Tony had insisted to have, and started to tell him her story.

“My parents were … scientists. Experts in genome manipulation. They were working for the government, for Shield. They discovered something important, something they wouldn’t tell us anything about. They started to get edgy, paranoiac, always looking over their shoulder. Whatever it was they found, they were scared. We fled America at the time. My sister and I, we didn’t understand what was happening, we didn’t get that … that they knew they were gonna die. That they were trying to keep us alive”

“What did they find ?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here”

“I don’t understand”

She closed her eyes, remembering them.

“They experimented it on me”

“What ?”

He was shocked.

“We were in Stockholm at the time. One night, they took me to their lab, they said they needed me to work. I was seventeen, just so happy to be with them, so I said yes. Four days later, I woke up alone, surrounded by ashes and no memories. I found …” She stopped for a second, her lips quivering. “I found what was left of their bodies. My sister was there too. All of them, dead.”

Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“I was convinced I killed them, I couldn’t move, I was just … stuck. So I stayed there, laying on the ground, next to their bodies, until Tony found me.”

“That’s how you came to live with Stark”

“Yes. He took me in, changed my name and my story, made me swear to never talk about this”

“Why ?”

“He helped me figure out what happened that night. My parents did succeed in their experiment. They made me … enhanced. That’s what they called it anyway”

“They gave you your powers” He guessed.

“Yes. The same day, Shield found them. While I was under, they put a bullet in their head. My sister was supposed to be sick, at home. But she sneaked out and hid in the lab. She just wanted to be with us. Shield tried to make it seen like it was an accident, a malfunction”

“An explosion”

She nodded.

“Yes. They blew up the lab, with all of us in there”

“But you didn’t die”

“I absorbed the blast”

“Oh…”

She brushed the tears off her face, looking at her trembling hands. It was useless to try to make them stop.

“I never found out who was behind their assassination, or what I am suppose to be”

“What you’re suppose to be ?” He repeated, surprised.

“They put their secret inside me, that’s how I came to be. But what is it, and what am I?”

He frowned, his mind working a thousand miles an hour.

“Do you really think this changes who you are ?” He asked her.

“I lost my identity, Bucky. I lost the person I was. Those powers, they turn me into something I’m not”

“Are you saying I’m the Winter Soldier? That I’m … not a person anymore but a program design to kill ?”

He knew the answer to that question, but he needed her to understand.

“Of course not!” She vehemently answered.

“This is the same fight, Y/N. Hydra might have wiped out my memories, but Bucky Barnes reappeared each time they tried to erase him, because this is who I am. My strength, my arm, my alter-ego, they don’t define who Bucky is. The kid that grew up in Brooklyn does”

“Do you really believe that ?”

“I believe we’ve been broken. But it doesn’t mean we can’t be fix”

His metal arm moved to hold her hand. When she turns around to look at him, he gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with his human hand before brushing his fingertips on her cheek, wiping her tears away.

“I don’t know how many times you’ll need to hear this, Y/N, but we’re not beyond repair” He whispered.

A shiver ran up her spine at his whole demeanor. His shoulders held high, his eyes boring into hers, all she could see was his rage to live, his will to rebuilt stronger foundations around their broken pieces. No it was not pity anymore, nor was it worry. All she saw now was admiration.

“You and I, we are survivors” He said with force.

He was a warm light she had yearn to feel, fresh air she thought would never touch her skin again. Wordlessly, she laid her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes. She didn’t want this feeling to go away and wished to hard she could bottle up this moment with him forever. They stayed like this, her body against his, his hand entangled in her hair, his chin resting above her head, and for a moment none of them spoke.

“Why do I feel so guilty to have you” She muttered so low he almost didn’t hear her.

“Because you know I can bring you peace” He honestly answered next to her ear.

“If I let you in, if I take the risk to be hurt again and I lose you…”

“You won’t”

“You don’t know that for sure”

“I know I’ve got strong feelings for you, and they won’t go away”

“And I feel the same, but we’re gonna get hurt”

“Isn’t that what love is about ? Navigating between feelings so loud they can’t be shut down, even after death. Stop being so afraid to keep on living, Y/N.”

“Bucky …” She called, slowly raising her head to look at him.

“I’m not giving you a choice, doll.”

Before she could talk herself out of this, he closed the short distance between them and laid his lips on hers. Suddenly, what was a flame became a raging fire in the pit of her stomach. She could feel her heart pumping all the way to her ears, feel the tingling sensation of his fingertips against her skin, a sense of peace finally. This was raw emotions they were sharing, sparks of electricity they were making as their lips were moving. Their own world they were creating. A promise they were sealing.

“You’re gonna be okay” He assured her, kissing her forehead.

“Promise me you’ll stay, Bucky”

“For as long as you’ll let me” He finished.

She looked up at him with hope.

“I promise”

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Baby Broke Down In My Bed Again

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: this came to be because 1. I wanted to try and write a more sanguine, less patient reader 2. @minaslittleone do you remember a long time ago when we agreed that someone with as much self-hatred as Wilhemina probably had moments when sex wasn’t bearable, or something like that? Well, I decided to write a fic about it. Reader x W’s relationship has been going on for quite a while in this one, because I wanted a less guarded, more trusting and forgiving Wilhemina.

Word count:  ≈ 8 700

You collapsed on the bed with a groan and let your body sink into the mattress. It had been such a long, boring and yet incredibly busy day, that had made you feel way older than your years. All you wanted now was to forget about it entirely and let warmth and content take over.

Wilhemina was tucked in on her side of the bed, reading a book. She had been particularly quiet this evening, seemingly lost in her head, had played with her food and answered your questions with short, annoyed sentences. You had let her be, given her space, regularly glancing at her for any sign of pain, but her back didn’t seem to be the trouble. She had helped you clear the table, and the soft brush of her hand against your arm had felt like a silent apology.

Now you snuggled up to her side, curling your body to fill all the gaps between you and her, and planting soft kisses on the bare skin between her collarbones.

“What are you reading?” you whispered, draping one arm over her stomach to pull her closer.

“Still the same book,” she answered, rather curtly.

You peered up at her, planted more kisses along her collarbone, then buried your face in her neck. Your eyes fluttered closed. She was so warm, so incredibly soft and safe, your safe place; you felt the tension slowly leave your body, and be replaced with sweet, happy content that nestled cozily in your stomach.

Home. In the past year you and her had built your home together. You had painted your walls in her colors and she had filled her rooms with your laughter. By now you knew by heart which parts of her floor creaked when you put your foot on it, which parts of her body to press your fingers on to make her moan.

“Will you read to me?” you whispered against her skin.

It came out too muffled for her to understand. She made a questioning noise, but it bore so much annoyance you decided against repeating your question. Instead, you slipped your fingers under her night shirt and started stroking slow circles on her stomach, the softness of her skin sparking a low fire where there had been only warmth.

You snuggled closer to her still, nudging her neck with your nose and breathing her in. She was intoxicating, you thought, as you planted soft, lazy kisses that lingered longer on her skin as your brain slowly awoke to a growing need, so ridiculously intoxicating; you pushed yourself up on one elbow for better access as you trailed kisses up her neck, your other hand sliding up to caress the swell of her right breast.

Wilhemina set her book aside, which made you smirk victoriously. You sucked on the skin over her pulse point just as she lay one hand on your shoulder, and was about to flick your thumb over her nipple when she gently pushed you away.

There was surprise in your eyes when you met hers. Wilhemina was so incredibly hungry for affection she rarely rejected it when you so eagerly offered it to her.

You scanned her face, your breathing quick and expectant.

Wilhemina held your gaze and shook her head. “Not tonight, Y/N.”

She didn’t look annoyed anymore, just sad. It was this sadness that silenced the protestations tingling on your tongue.

You swallowed down disappointment and planted one last kiss on her collarbone before lying down again, with your face mere inches from her shoulder. You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths till the heat in your head and in-between your legs was back under control.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Of course I am,” she retorted, but the tone of her voice betrayed her.

Her voice was always softer in the evening. There was a warm fondness to it that let giggles and chuckles and secrets go through almost unimpeded. Four months or so into your relationship, she had allowed herself to take off parts of her armor and hang them next to her coat after she had closed the front door to her place or yours. Weapons were set on the floor, and the weight of them replaced with the weight of your body on top of hers.

But tonight, she was using the voice which to your ears sounded like the low, threatening growl of faraway thunder. Meant to warn, to intimidate, to make you duck your head and run away.

For a few minutes you lay in silence, watching her.

“Do you want to keep on reading?” you asked eventually.

“No.”

“Should we turn off the light, then?”

“Don’t you need to get off first?”

The spite and harshness of her voice had you reeling for a second. You pretended it didn’t hurt.

“Excuse me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours, dark and glazed. “Don’t you need to get off first?”

This time, her voice wasn’t spiteful but mocking, condescending. That made it even worse.

“No,” you answered, gaze boring into hers, “I don’t need to get off first.” You paused. “Did something happen today?”

“Nothing happened today,” Wilhemina snapped.

You swallowed back anger, forced your voice to stay calm. “Then what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

With a groan you closed your eyes and rolled away from her, reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp.

The darkness only increased your anger. You lay fuming with your back to her, curled in on yourself and cursing that brain of hers that was so ridiculously stubborn and scared and hurt. There was no talking to her when she was behaving like this and yet it was killing you, not knowing how to help her even after a whole year of loving her.

And what troubled you was, she had opened up to you before. Not enough times that you couldn’t count them on the fingers of one hand, but still. And you couldn’t begin to understand why tonight she had decided to shut you out.

You heard her shift behind you. Before you knew what you were doing, you were turning on the light again and sitting up.

“Talk to me,” you said – maybe a bit too harshly, but you couldn’t do better.

Wilhemina slowly opened her eyes to meet your gaze.

“I have nothing to tell you,” she said slowly and quietly, “except that if you need to get off, the bathroom –”

“What happened today?” you cut her off.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. “I told you before,” - voice slower still, and mocking, mocking so cruelly as if she were talking to a moron -, “nothing happened today.”

“I’m not turning off the light until you’ve talked to me.”

She smirked. “Suit yourself. I can sleep just fine with the light on.” And with that, she closed her eyes.

You huffed, staring down at her disbelievingly. For a minute you waited, refusing to believe she was going to end the conversation like this. But she didn’t move, didn’t make a noise. You watched the slow, regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, almost mesmerized, then groaned.

Hot-tempered, your parents had always called you. You knew they were right, and you had been successfully working on it. But tonight, something in you snapped.

You had been so patient with Wilhemina. Taken one step forward, two backwards. Braved the storm, kneeled down and extended one hand toward the terrified and the abandoned shivering in the rain. But tonight, you let the anger win.  

So, with your heart pumping fire instead of blood and its smoke filling your head, you lay down on your back, spread your legs open and touched yourself.

And you started to moan. Loud, exaggerated moans, and you made a show of moving your hips so hard the bed creaked.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your wrist in fast circles that brought you no pleasure at all, “hmm,” biting your lower lip and closing your eyes; you slipped your hand lower down, and forced a finger inside. “Fuck,” you screamed, “I haven’t been fucked so good in months!”

Stop it, a voice pleaded somewhere deep inside your head. You ignored it. You bucked your hips against your hand, slid your other hand up your body to tease your nipple. As you forced another exaggerated moan out of your mouth, you increased the pace between your legs, anger making you desperate for release and increasing with every second you were denied it.

You pushed another finger inside, wincing at the pain, and rubbed harder at your clit, demanding pleasure. You tensed your muscles to help your body reach its climax; and then, finally, finally, felt pleasure build and build and sweep over you. As your body gave a few weak shakes you remembered to arch your back and to cry out, “Yes! God! I haven’t felt so good in so long!”

With a dramatic sigh you let your body fall back on the mattress and brought one hand up to your forehead. There was a drumming in your ears, and something unpleasant that nudged in your chest. You closed your eyes, feigning exhaustion, forcing your chest to heave, and waited a few seconds before you stole a glance at Wilhemina.

She hadn’t made a single noise, nor moved an inch, during your little show. She was still lying on her back, barely breathing, eyes wide open and unblinking. The only thing that proved she was still alive was the tension in her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw.

In the following silence, the smoke in your head cleared. The drumming in your ears slowed down, the tingling between your legs disappeared; but the thing in your chest grew. It grew and crushed your heart till it became hard to breathe. 

You were about to say Wilhemina’s name when she slowly sat up in bed. She paused, her back to you, and reached out for her cane. Her hand was shaking.

You closed your eyes and listened to her footsteps as she fumbled about the room for a while, dropped something, picked it up; walked out. Her footsteps receded down the corridor; heels; and then, you heard the front door close.

**

Your flat was empty and silent when you got up at dawn the next morning. For a long moment you stood still in the middle of the room, not looking at anything in particular, dread gnawing at your insides.

You weren’t sure you could remember what had happened the night before. The pictures were too blurry. There were memories, but could they be real? You didn’t want them to be. Everything you could remember had anger and cruelty woven into it, things that had ugly faces and smiled ugly, selfish smiles.

The side of your bed where Wilhemina usually slept was unmade. You picked up her pillow, pressed it to your nose and breathed in her scent. Then you walked into your bathroom and saw with relief that her things were still there, the toothbrush and makeup products she always left at your place and whose sight you cherished every morning more than you cherished that of the rising sun.

You turned, walked into your living room. Her coat was gone, so were her shoes. There was no note on the table. In the sink still lay the two mugs you had been too lazy to wash the evening before.

On the verge of panic you picked up your phone and dialed Mutt’s number. He was a friend of a friend, and it had been thanks to him that you had first met Wilhemina all those years ago. Mutt’s idiocy and complete lack of maturity had, strangely, grown on you. You two sometimes spent drunken evenings together, watching movies and screaming at the screen every time something happened that was scientifically impossible. In the company of Mutt it was easy to be stupid, and gross, and mean. So, you thought, as you listened to the ringing tone, Mutt was the kind of person you needed right now: someone to confess your sin to without fear of being judged, for without a doubt he had, at one point in his life, done worse; someone that would give you such ridiculously bad advice you could, if you were lucky, withdraw a few crumbs of wisdom from the madness.

“The fuck, asshole,” Mutt barked into the phone, “have you seen the time?”

You closed your eyes, wincing. You could almost smell the alcohol in his voice. “Sorry, Mutt. I really need to talk to you.”

Mutt yawned, groaned, fell silent. All you could hear was the quick beating of your heart. The clamminess of your hand made the phone slippery, and your eyes were starting to sting.

“I, um,” you started. Took a breath, released it shakily. “So, possibly, I fucked up.”

There was a noise like another distorted yawn. “Babe, why am I not surprised.”

“Did something happen at work yesterday?” you asked.

“Yeah, Lily spilled her Starbucks on Jeff’s laptop and it made all the arms go ballistic –”

“I mean,” you cut him off, sniffling, “I mean with Wilhemina.”

Silence. A noise, as if Mutt was moving.

“Mutt?”

“Gimme a sec, I’m thinking. No, nothing that I can remember. Hey, did you know that –”

“Are you sure, Mutt?” you insisted. You felt the hot, wet lick of a tear as it trailed down your cheek. “Nothing that someone said that made her snap? Are you sure nothing –”

“She snaps at everyone 24/7, how am I supposed to know,” Mutt grumbled.

“I fucked up,” you sobbed into the receiver. Your body bent forward with the force of the guilt that finally washed over you. “Mutt,” you whined, “when she comes to work, could you tell her to call me?”

“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” Mutt said.

“Tell her to call me. Lock her up in her office or something until she agrees, Mutt, please. I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N, and it’s too early for this shit. But yes, yes, ok, I will. Not the lock her up thing. I don’t want to be caned.” There was a pause, as you sniffed and sobbed, not even caring to wipe your cheeks and nose, then Mutt added tentatively: “There’s a football game tonight if you want to come over and watch it with me. Don’t call, just barge in. Goodnight.” And with that he hung up.

You called in sick at work. You spent the day pacing up and down in your flat, occasionally throwing yourself on your bed or couch to sob.

Your phone never rang. Not that y ou really expected it to. But still – you had hope.

When the hands on your clock announced 3pm, you decided you couldn’t wait anymore, and drove to Kineros. You parked your car on the sidewalk. Somehow you managed to reach Mutt and Jeff’s office before security caught up with you. They narrowed their eyes at you, but sent the security guard off.

“When I said barge in,” Mutt started, “I meant my place.”

“I’m here to see Wilhemina,” you panted. “Is she in her office?”

“Yeah, but she warned her assistant not to let anyone bother her and I think –”

“I won’t be long,” you cut him off, rushing out of the room. One second later you were back. “Show me the way?”

Wilhemina didn’t look up as Mutt and you walked down the long corridor that led to her office. You scanned her figure worriedly, noting the vacant look in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and the tight line that was her mouth as she typed quickly on her laptop.

“Babe,” Mutt started, “there’s –”

Wilhemina cut him off, slowly raising her head. “Do not let yourself think for a second that just because you –”

Her eyes fell on you.

Slowly, her mouth closed. You almost stopped in your tracks at the rage that ignited in her eyes.

“I’ll let you two lovebirds deal with your things, then,” Mutt said with a nervous laugh, before turning on his heels. You barely registered his departure.

For a few, long, painful seconds, you stood frozen in front of Wilhemina’s desk, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt, holding Wilhemina’s burning gaze and your whole body vibrating with love and fear and regret; and then, something in your chest burst, and you lurched forward.

“Mina I –”

“I told Lily to wait for you in the room next door,” she cut you off, voice low and so terribly slow.

You blinked. “Who’s Lily?”

“Mutt and Jeff’s favorite pleasure giver. Just the kind of human scum you need, as you made very clear last night.”

“You pushed me to it,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

Unfortunately, Wilhemina heard you.

Slowly, performing the precise balance exercise she had rehearsed thousands of times before, she stood up.

“Because you refused to speak to me,” you were quick to add. “You’re a human being, Mina, not an oyster –”  

“You’re so fucking eloquent,” Wilhemina taunted. “If only you could control your emotions as well as you can express yourself.”

You took yet another step forward, your stomach pressing against the edge of her desk, as you felt the familiar hot tingle which meant anger had fought its way through the crowd of all the other emotions battling inside you, and had now reached the stage.

“If only you could actually express yourself,” you spat back, refusing to lower or avert your eyes no matter how painful it was becoming to hold her gaze. It was too intense, too furious and too dark. “Why are you doing this? Why are you shutting me out all of a sudden? I feel like we’re back on day one.” You leaned towards her in exasperation – and in hope, that maybe you could still reach her. Your eyes widened in a plea, your hands closed around the edge of her desk. “What’s going on? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Wilhemina’s face closed up even more at your words. The anger in her eyes disappeared under a thick veil.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, still as terribly, terribly slowly.

“I’ll go find Lily, then,” you fumed.

“You do that.”

Wilhemina’s eyes still expressed nothing at all, and it broke your heart, for that nothing wasn’t here to hide her anger. She had no problem letting anger show. That nothing was here to hide how badly she was hurting.

It made you want to break something. Anything, but mostly the walls around her heart. To hit your fists against them and to tear them down brick by brick and to crash your way into her.

And above all the rest rose a sense of helplessness, for you had no idea how to fix this. You had shot a perfect shot, hit the center of the target, the arrow’s head tearing through the heart. And as the hunter bends over their kill, you held Wilhemina’s blank, glazed eyes, and caught a glimpse of the damage you had done.

And then, a wave of revolt. For she had hurt you, too. Had refused to let you in and spat bitter words at you.

There were just too many things happening inside of you, too big a crowd of emotions. You were boiling and you didn’t know how to cool down.

You turned on your heel and were about to storm off when the crowd suddenly held its breath. Anger had bent down and helped frustration up onto the stage.  

You turned around, fists clenched and eyes stinging. “I’m sure Lily will tell me more about herself in five minutes than you ever will in five years!” you burst out.

“Then why are you still here?” Wilhemina growled lowly. “Or are you too stupid to understand how one walks? One foot aft-”

“Because I love you!” you burst out. “This past year with you has been the best in my whole goddamn life and it kills me, that you won’t let me in.” You shook your head, briefly closing your eyes against the emotion that you could feel bubbling out of you. “I want to love you but you won’t let me,” you whined.

Wilhemina didn’t reply. She turned a shade pinker, but her lips stayed tightly shut and her eyes stayed veiled as she processed your words. When finally she spoke, her voice was laced with bitterness.

“You seem to think of yourself as the victim,” she said slowly, and a flicker of anger made its way out and shone in her eyes. ”I don’t know much about being loved,” spitting out the words as if they could kill her, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to hurt like this.”

At first you thought the words had slipped unbidden from her lips. It still surprised you when she would confess to being in pain, physically or mentally. Of course there were signs you had learnt to recognise, a clenched jaw, glazed eyes, wanton snapping, but Wilhemina rarely gave her pain a voice. Pain was shameful. It had to be ignored and never, never to be processed.

But then, as you watched her, stunned, and her body hunched up as if she wished she could disappear, and her eyes turned vulnerable, the certainty settled inside you, painful but incredibly warm. It hadn’t been an accidental push, but a voluntary jump.

There was no uprising. Anger, frustration, the stage, suddenly vanished.

Without thinking you stepped around her desk, but stopped when Wilhemina took several steps backward.

Her name left your mouth in a broken plea, but she shook her head and then all of a sudden her façade shattered.

The quiver in her voice when she spoke next made your heart ache.

“I know I cannot ask for much but I thought – I thought in a relationship at least the most basic respect –”

She trailed off, jaw and mouth still working to form words her voice refused to carry.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. All the fight in you had disappeared; all that was left was a terrible sense of dread and guilt.

“No no no, Mina I… sweetheart of course you can ask for everything, I…”

Tentatively you took a step forward. This time, Wilhemina didn’t move. She was peering at you, chin uncharacteristically tilted downward, eyes getting shinier by the second.

You held up both hands in front of you.

“I didn’t mean it,” you heard yourself say. “You’re not inadequate, I – I didn’t mean any of it, Mina. Look at me,” you added forcefully, as her eyes moved to some random thing over your shoulder and threatened to glaze over again. “I swear I didn’t mean it. I got mad, and I fucked up, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Certainly your last few words were what Wilhemina had been dying to hear, for her shoulders suddenly slumped. Tears pooled in her eyes that she harshly wiped away before they had time to stain, and she let out a long, trembling sigh that seemed to take her strength away with it.

A strangled, mirthless laugh burst from your lips. Your arms fell limply to your sides.

You were too scared to even dare breathe properly. Scared that Wilhemina would order you away and refuse to ever see you again, or, more likely, that she would shut you out and retreat behind her walls, pretend she was alright, that nothing had happened and that she hadn’t even felt the prickle of the needle. But her face stayed open, her eyes vulnerable as she wiped at them repeatedly in an attempt to maintain her composure.

“Will you, uh.” You shifted your weight on your feet, unable to stay still for the sight of her so unguarded made you desperate to reach out and hug her. Gather up the pieces and glue them back together. “Will you let me pick you up from work tonight? I can drive you back to your place, and we can, if you want, talk.” Your chest hurt. You leaned towards her, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can make it right, Mina, I know I can. Please let me in – I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She nodded, and when her hand came up again to wipe her eyes, tears rolled between her fingers and down her cheeks.

Without thinking you extended your hand towards her, and briefly brushed her wrist with your fingertips.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding, fingers still swiping at her face.

You peered up at her hopefully. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” you laughed, so incredibly relieved you felt like bursting into tears.

A laugh left Wilhemina’s lips, too, sad and half-strangled. She moved her arm until it met your hand. Your fingers automatically wrapped around her wrist, thumb gently stroking her skin as she swiped at her eyes.

She looked smaller, and so much younger, a little girl who felt too much and had been unwillingly shoved into an adult’s body. You wondered if this was her with her soul stripped completely naked.

You had expected high walls built higher and stronger, defensive armies gone mad with wrath at the blow you had dealt - not an open gate. What had you done to deserve it? This was so unhoped for, so dearly cherished, whatever had triggered it, be it trust or love or both.

You weren’t sure how to express your gratitude. Weren’t sure you were worthy of such a precious thing as her trust. Your hands had never held a baby bird that fragile before.

You gave her wrist a squeeze. “I’ll leave you alone now,” you whispered, “and –”

“Actually would you mind –” She cut herself short. Her gaze searched yours for a second, pleadingly, begging you to understand without her having to resort to words.

“Yes?” you breathed, body leaning closer to hers so there was no more than one inch between her and you.

Her eyes met yours again, dark and sad and something in your chest like a string attached to your heart pulled towards her, desperate to hold with healing hands and soothing warmth.  

“Could you –”

Again, she bit her lip against the words she wouldn’t allow herself to utter. You searched her eyes to try and understand as frustration flicked across her face, nails digging into flesh, lips twisting; until finally she released a breath and with it burst out, terrified and angry and shaking, “Would you mind just holding me for a second?”

She winced at her own words, her nails digging deeper into her skin in disgust as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. With your heart in your throat you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

How easy it would have been to burst into tears and wail pitifully in her arms. God knew how badly you wanted to. But Wilhemina was being so brave, and you had to make it up to her for the way you had behaved, so you swallowed back your tears and forced yourself to take a deep breath to ease the ache in your chest.

You buried your face in Wilhemina’s hair, squeezing her so tight in your arms part of you was terrified you were hurting her - the other part didn’t care. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, and hers clutched the back of your shirt, her lips grazing the skin of your neck but not daring to press a kiss.

Her eyes were red and puffy when you met her gaze again. Gently you cupped her face, and dropped a kiss on each of her burning cheeks – then, tentatively, brushed your lips against hers.

A noise that was half a sob, half laughter pushed out of Wilhemina’s mouth and then her lips pressed against yours, hot and wet and needy but with a shyness to them, so hesitant, as if this was your first kiss and she was expecting rejection. You pressed your chest against hers to show her you were not going anywhere, slid your hand up her back and pushed your palm against her spine, a silent I want you, all of you. So Wilhemina nipped your lower lip, and only let herself relax when you hummed appreciatively.

You held her hand as she fought to regain her composure; straightened her shoulders, veiled her eyes, and shielded her heart. You accompanied her to the nearest bathroom, and gave her hand one last squeeze before you let go of it.

Mutt and Jeff peered up at you as you stomped into their office, collapsed into Mutt’s arms and finally let yourself burst into tears.

Mutt gave your back several awkward pats as you sobbed, clinging to him and wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. Jeff’s awkwardness was almost palpable, and when you pulled away from Mutt, still sobbing, all he could think of was to offer you some coke, and then a drink when you refused.

“No,” you whined, “no, I need to stay sober. I need to make it right.”

“Jeez, did you kill someone?” Mutt asked, with a glance in Jeff’s direction and a guffaw to hide his nervousness.

“I thought about what you asked me,” Mutt went on after a few seconds. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that happened yesterday.”

To kill time you went on a walk, and ended up buying a huge bouquet of roses and dahlias for Wilhemina, as well as two boxes of fancy dark chocolates, a very fluffy lilac blanket, and two bottles of Wilhemina’s favorite wine. You stacked all those gifts in the backseat of your car, and walked back into Kineros at 6:30pm sharp.

Wilhemina was waiting for you in the lobby, sitting very straight on a chair, both hands tightly wrapped around the head of her cane.

“Oh shit,” you whined, “was it 6 today?”

She nodded. You poured out apologies, which she didn’t seem to hear as she slowly pushed herself up from her chair. You fell silent when you realised she had waited half an hour for you, despite it all. Something nice fluttered in your chest.

In the car Wilhemina’s eyes fell on her gifts, then shifted to you, questioningly, and her cheeks reddened when you explained it was all for her.

The drive was awkward. You turned the radio on to fill in the silence, opened your window because the air felt too hot, fidgeted on your seat and drummed on the wheel every time you had to stop at a red light. Several times you opened your mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Wilhemina’s hand was shaking when she opened her front door. You dumped all the gifts you had bought her on the sofa and hurried to help her out of her coat, and did she want you to make her some tea? Was she hungry? Would she rather you ran her a bath? You could make her dinner, her favorite dish, and if an ingredient was lacking you would run to the store so if she needed anything else you could buy it too, and -

“I don’t need anything, Y/N,” she cut you off, not meanly, but with a firmness to her voice and an absence of warmth that effectively made you shut up.

You stood still in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do and mind running a mile a minute. While Wilhemina tended to the flowers, you decided to fluff and rearrange the pillows on her couch, and when you were done and couldn’t find anything else to do, you hurried to her and planted yourself at a safe distance behind her as you blurted out, “Mina, I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stilled for a second over the flowers. She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge your apology.

“What I did yesterday was terrible and I don’t know how to make it up to you,” you pushed on, voice quivering but still loud, for you were determined to mend whatever you could still mend. “I - I don’t know how to apologize properly to you, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”

Silence. Your body felt hot suddenly, as if someone had sparked a fire within you. You ran one hand over your forehead nervously, heart drumming in your ears, peering at Wilhemina’s shoulders. Her ponytail fell neatly down her back, red frizz grazing the pale skin of her neck just below her hairline.  

Silence lingered. Your eyes fell hopelessly to the floor.

“The gifts were a nice touch,” Wilhemina said.

You looked up at her, automatically took a step forward.

“Were they really? I’m so glad. I didn’t know if -”

“Nothing happened yesterday.” 

You cut yourself short, mouth still open as you stared at her in surprise. From where you were standing behind her, you could only see the sharp lines of her left jaw, cheekbone and brow. She was staring fixedly at a rose, hands resting on the table on either side of the vase and supporting most of her weight.

“I passed a couple on the sidewalk and they laughed, and I couldn’t help but –” Her voice faltered, eyes closing in frustration. “I thought they were laughing at me.”

Quickly you closed the distance between her and you and leaned forward to take a better look at her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed.

“Because it’s so stupid,” she spat, eyes still closed, anger making her voice tremble. “It’s so fucking stupid, Y/N. I know they could have been laughing at anything, but my stupid, stupid…”A hiss, one hand coming up to press her palm against her forehead.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard yourself say. Your fingers brushed her arm, a silent question, hopeful, tentative, your skin drawn to her warmth always. And just as she had done a few hours ago, she leaned into your touch, and your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“It made me so incredibly…There was so much…” Her palm hit her forehead as a sob pushed out of her mouth. “It shouldn’t have affected me like that. I shouldn’t have let it. But there was so much… I couldn’t even bear you touching me like that,” she breathed.

“So much what?” you whispered, grazing your lips over her shoulder.

A long, shaky breath. You could almost hear the words screaming in Wilhemina’s head, pushing against the dam in her throat but not strong enough to break through it. Instead, she removed her hand from your grip, reached into her pocket, and slipped a small piece of paper into your hand.

“What’s this?” you asked.

You unfolded the piece of paper to find a phone number in Wilhemina’s handwriting.

Wilhemina sniffed, took a breath to speak. “It’s Lily’s.”

You looked up at her confusedly.

“For the days like yesterday,” Wilhemina explained. Her gaze fled yours, sad and ashamed, before meeting it again. The hand that had been touching yours mere seconds ago now wrapped around the head of her cane and dug into it. “For the nights I can’t satisfy you.”

For a moment you stared at her, unable or unwilling to process her words, while she shrank back further away from you. For a moment there was only white noise in your head.

And then something hot rose inside you, familiar and hated and too strong.  

So, hold on – hold on.

“Is that what you want?” you said – too angry. You were losing control again, brain filled with smoke and it felt like you were listening to yourself speak instead of thinking the words. “You want me to fuck somebody else?”

The words boomed through the room. Louder and scarier than thunder. Wilhemina and you were left staring at each other, too small and too helpless to face something that big and that powerful.

You watched as Wilhemina’s face hardened by the second, drawbridge being raised against the assault. “Of course not,” she said.

“Then why the hell would you give this to me?” you spat, waving the piece of paper in her face.

Wilhemina fought for a second more, before her face crumpled and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I told you,” she whispered, arm coming up to hug herself.

The gesture made something break in you. Some of the smoke in your brain cleared out through the crack.

“You’re a blithering idiot,” you heard yourself hiss. It sounded half-convinced, but it made Wilhemina wince anyway. “If you think I’d want that,” you added.

“And you’re as stupid as you look,” Wilhemina hissed back weakly, “if you get mad at me for trying to help you.”

“I’m mad because you seem to have such a low opinion of me,” you grumbled, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I know there are human needs, which one who is in a relationship is expected to-”

“My ‘human needs’ do not control me.”

A faint, mirthless laugh. “Of course they don’t.”

“They don’t.”

“Right.”

“Yes, right.”

Silence.

The last of your anger was fizzling out. You could still feel it crackling faintly in your upper body, but the last embers were being stifled by something colder and heavier.

The silence buzzed in your ears.

Stubbornly you held Wilhemina’s gaze, trying to look mad, but your fists were unclenching, and it was sadness – it was sadness, taking over. And with it came a sudden sense of exhaustion.

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to pretend everything was alright, close your eyes and go to sleep. And in the morning the sunshine would have driven out past mistakes, selfishness and hurt, and you would get up with a happy heart and music in your head.

Your gaze wavered. You pretended to examine the piece of paper in your hand, but your vision was swimming, and the clamminess of your palm had smudged the ink. There was a shape that must have been a zero but now looked like a battered eight, and the last two numbers you couldn’t venture to guess what they had been.

You ran your thumb over those broken remnants of Wilhemina’s neat handwriting. Wondered what she had been feeling, when she had pressed the nib of her pen on paper, and had her hand shaken at all? Some people talked with their hands, Wilhemina’s had a language of their own. They would fidget and brush and grab and claw, and they would shake – and you would hold.

Always, dear Lord, always – you had promised.  

You glanced up at Wilhemina again, to find her looking back at you, tears flickering their way down her cheeks.

“Should we, er.” You paused, looking down at the floor again. “Should we have dinner?”

You weren’t sure Wilhemina would play along. But when you gathered enough courage to glance up at her, she was wiping her cheeks, and she nodded.

Wilhemina disappeared into the bathroom while you cooked pasta. Your hands moved on auto-pilot, your brain too numb and too tired to think. You were dumping bits of butter into the pasta when Wilhemina emerged, hair down and body wrapped in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, thin periwinkle nightdress you had bought her a few months ago.

The fact that she had chosen this nightdress in particular made fresh tears pool in your eyes. It felt like a peace offering, an extended hand you were only too eager to hold. You placed a plate on the table in front of her, and whispered something about her looking very nice. Wilhemina acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

She played with her food until you coaxed her into actually eating some of it, and then you took your turn in the bathroom while she did the dishes.

In front of the bed you hesitated. You didn’t know whether Wilhemina wanted you in there with her, or if she’d rather you slept on the couch, or worse, if she wanted you to drive back to your place. Would she play by the rules? You eyed her as she walked around the room rearranging things and closing the shutters, and planted herself across the bed from you.

Your gazes met. You were trying your best not to chew on your lower lip. Wilhemina’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. For a few, painfully long seconds it went on like this, until Wilhemina lifted the sheet and lay down underneath it.

You waited for her to settle and then, deciding her silence was an invitation, slipped under the sheet yourself.

Wilhemina reached out and turned off the bedside light.

Hoping you could fall asleep was stupid. Every inch of you was thrumming with nervousness. You wondered if Wilhemina could feel the quick beating of your heart, so loud it seemed to make the whole bed shake.

What time was it? You had no idea. You forced yourself to lie as still as possible, with your hands folded on your chest and your eyes fixed on the ceiling. When you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, you turned on your side, facing Wilhemina.

Blue light seeped through the shutters behind her. So the sun had barely set. What had Wilhemina been thinking, when she had closed the shutters and seen the light still clinging to the sky? Had she ignored it, resigned on playing pretend, that this was a happy night with bright twinkling stars in the sky and on her left the pale halo heralding the rising of the moon? That she wasn’t bleeding inside but warm, and that sleep would find her and press a kiss to her eyelids like a gentle lover.

Wilhemina’s eyes were wide open, shining in the dark. You raised a hand, hesitated.

“Can I touch you?” you breathed.

Something growled. You were not playing by the rules. In this ideal world you and Wilhemina had silently agreed to live in, there was no need for asking. Permission was always granted. Your fingers were to press against her skin freely and there was no need for checking because everything was always fine. This was how you were supposed to play. Cheaters would be kicked out of the room.

Wilhemina shifted, settled on her side, facing you. The distance between you two was small, less than the length of your hand.

She nodded.

Your fingers grazed her shoulder first, a safe place, before moving until they reached the edge of her nightdress. They jumped over her neck to land on her chin, and then spread out, cupping her cheek.

Wilhemina leaned into your touch and let out a sigh at the familiar softness and warmth of you. She made a movement as if to shift closer to you, stopped herself. For a moment you simply stroked her cheek, and then you continued your exploration of her, hand slipping down her chin to brush past her collarbone and down between her breasts.

There had been nothing sexual about your caress, but Wilhemina reached for your hand anyway and kept it still over her heart. Her eyes met yours, sad and ashamed.

“I know, baby,” you breathed. You offered her a smile you weren’t sure she could see in the dark. Laced your fingers with hers, gave her hand a squeeze. “I won’t, I promise.”

Wilhemina bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. You pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” you breathed against her skin, before pressing another kiss on it.

The thing growled again. In the ideal world you had agreed to live in, it scolded, your hand should have slipped lower and moans should already be filling the room. But in this ideal world, one more piece of Wilhemina would be breaking, and one piece of you would start to rot.  

Wilhemina draped one arm over your waist, and when you felt her tentatively nudge your collarbone with her nose, before nestling her face in the crook of your neck, when you felt her shift so that her thigh pressed against yours, nightdress riding up and her skin warm and soft, you closed your eyes to block out anything that wasn’t her and you, and the space your bodies occupied.

And how it made your heart swell, the trust her actions told of. Pressing herself against you like that, and trusting that you would be true to your words, and not seek to take it further. Or was her need for affection so strong she was willing to take the risk? You decided to believe in the former.

Your hand that had been on her heart slid up her chest and underneath her nightdress to feel more of her. You buried your face in her hair.

“I don’t mind whether we make love or not,” you whispered. You cleared your throat and said it louder, in case she hadn’t heard the first time, or had refused to hear. “I really don’t. What matters to me is that you’re happy – or at least, that you feel safe.”

Your hand started tracing lazy circles on her skin. Wilhemina’s lips pushed against the skin of your neck, nose blowing hot air on it.

“If I reacted the way I did yesterday,” you pushed on, “it was only because I got mad at what you said, and because I knew you were holding something back from me.” You swallowed, drew a nervous shape across her shoulder. “Sometimes… sometimes it gets so hard for me to control my anger. It’s not an excuse, I’m just telling you so you understand what happened. I know I never should have reacted the way I did.”

You pulled away then, determined to have her look at you before you uttered the next words. You had forgotten it was very likely she wouldn’t be able to see your expression in the dark. It seemed to you honesty shone of its own light.  

Slowly, her eyes opened to meet yours. You cupped her cheek and offered her a smile. It was quivering, burdened by guilt and remorse, but it was there still.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, loudly, because you felt a whisper wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to scream the words out.

Wilhemina nodded, made to hide, to bury her face in your chest but you gently held her head up so she could look at the honesty in your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip in a vain attempt to stop herself from breaking down, but her chin was trembling in your palm, and soon enough you felt tears slip down between your fingers.  

Angrily you pushed your forehead against hers. “You’re not inadequate,” you breathed. “You’re not inadequate. Do you hear me?” She nodded, a sob pushing out of her just as her lips caught yours so it petered out in your mouth. You kissed her back, spoke the next words between her teeth. “I don’t think I’d ever been made love to before you. It felt nice, but you… every time you as much as touch me I feel a thousand raptures. Do you hear me?”

Her tongue pushed inside your mouth, despair making her too brutal, and she was still choking on tears and sobbing into your mouth as her hands grabbed at every part of you that she could reach. You kissed her back, hands holding her waist, until she had bit and nipped your lips swollen and stolen all the air from you and you had stolen all the air from her, and you both pulled away at the same time, breathless.

You both stayed silent as you caught your breath, blowing air into each other’s mouth. One of your hands let go of her hip to swipe at her cheeks and stroke across her brow. Wilhemina sniffed, pressed her forehead against yours again, and let go of a long, hot, moist breath.    

And then, because you had agreed to tell her your failing, she agreed to share her secret with you.

She held your face in her hands and tilted it so her mouth was brushing your ear, and you reached for the sheet and pulled it over your heads to hide from the game masters and because it had always been easier for Wilhemina to communicate in complete darkness. When no one could see her and her failure, and she could stop performing for there was no one to intimidate.

She described harmless things first, the color of the dress the woman had been wearing, how the man’s arm had been wrapped around her waist. He’d been wearing glasses and her hair had been tied up.  

Then she said how, when she had looked up at them, they had been laughing, their heads almost touching, and how the woman’s eyes had scanned her face first, and then the man’s. And how the woman had nodded at something the man had whispered in her ear, her lips twitching with amusement.

They had passed her and they had walked on and out of her life. And she had walked on and out, too, but her steps had faltered.

And she shouldn’t have let it, she whispered in your ear, as the air beneath the sheet grew warmer, she really shouldn’t have let it, but the laughter had sunk into her and crawled all the way up and down her, hurting everywhere – except her heart. Her heart had gone numb to protect itself.

She’d carried the weight of the laughter crawling and hurting inside her and she’d carried on her day, completing all the tasks she had had to do, and then she’d driven home, taken off her coat and accepted the cup of tea you had slipped into her hands. The laughter had still been weighing her down when you’d told her about your day and she’d tried but failed to listen, and later when she’d helped you cook dinner, forced her food to stay down, let you neglect the dishes and fled to the bathroom where she’d locked the door behind her.

She had locked the door behind her, she confessed in a small voice. Because she had been craving for solitude, because your fond smiles and worried looks and tender touches had hurt her as much as the laughter had.

And then in bed you had pressed yourself against her with a renewed promise of love and tenderness and her heart had roared back to life, crying out that this was too much, that it couldn’t handle any more. It revolted against love and desired to burn itself out. It shall step through fire and burn down to ashes and it would not allow anyone to save it.

You let her speak. Your throat was too tight to let out words anyway. Until Wilhemina sniffed and said she knew there would be more nights and days like this, and that was why she had given you Lily’s phone number – at that, your voice forced its way out to growl that you would never, it would kill you and even if you could bear it, it would kill her too and that you would never allow.    

Wilhemina lowered her head and sobbed.

After you two had emerged from under the sheet, you got up to get her and you some water, and opened the window to air the room. Outside it was finally night. You looked at the dark, silent street and wondered if tonight could still be saved, after all; if it could still be made into something Wilhemina and you wouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to remember.

But then, as you lingered at the window and Wilhemina called out your name, sleepy and soft, and you turned to see her lying on her side with her arms opened, you realized tonight had already been saved. So you quickly closed the window and crossed the room to her, and breathed a “Thank you” into her hair as her arms closed around you and pulled you close. 

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss  @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills  @vintagepaulson @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode  @ka-s

[yandere-sins]

Now that the undatables are datable, can I see some thoughts on a jealous Diavolo who wants to hoard the mc? Just maybe a punishment for going on a trip to the human world with some of the bros and leaving him behind. Or he’s upset about how little time he can grab between the demon bros eating up all of their attention and his own duties. He’s just so cute, and I’m so happy he’s finally a surprise guest!!!!!

Bruh ask me!!!! Everyday I open the app to be welcomed by the handsome demon-king-in-making and my heart goes doki doki ♥ I decided I need a change of mind since I worked on the book for four days straight, so I wrote you a scenario instead of just my thoughts! Thanks for requesting and please enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««      

Humming, you were led down the hallways of the Demon Lord’s castle. With a smile and short waves, you greeted the little devils that passed you, snickering and welcoming you back. You had only been back home in the human world for a weekend, but they all seemed awfully joyous that their exchange student had returned, even though you couldn’t pinpoint why that was. 

Thanking the Little D that led you to Diavolo’s study, it swirled around you, giggling for a moment before leaving you alone, and you took a deep breath before knocking on the massive doors that separate you from the room. With a hint of anticipating nervousness, you waited for an answer, hoping Diavolo would be as happy to see you as you were to see him. Over your time in the Devildom - no matter how harsh the truths you had discovered were and how often you had questioned your capabilities since you met the brothers - you had grown quite fond of the Lord, always knowing he supported your progress and time here.

“Yes?” it called out from inside. You had no doubt that Diavolo knew everyone who knocked at his door, but it was still nice that his voice never lost a certain tinge of curiosity when he called someone in. With your smile growing wider, you entered, looking into the instantly brightening face of the man of the hour. 

“[Name]!” he called out, jumping out of his chair like an excited child, and you greeted Barbatos quickly before focusing your attention on the Lord in front of you. “I am back!” you announced, holding up the small package with sweets you brought as a gift from your trip.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice urgent despite the smile on his face. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Huh?” you muttered in surprise. “I thought Lucifer was going to tell you that we were visiting my home for the weekend?”

“Is that so?” Diavolo grumbled under his breath, expression faltering and becoming somber for a moment before the corners of his lips curled up again. He opened his arm as he approached you, adding, “It’s good you’re back then.”

Even before he could reach you, you quickly handed over the package in your hand to Barbatos, who whispered a short, “His majesty was a little... tense this weekend.” Then spoke up louder, “I shall prepare some tea.”

With that, he was gone, and Diavolo pulled you into a hug, an affection you two had grown used to. It was wild for a mere human like you to embrace the future Demon Lord, but you weren’t complaining, especially not since it was Diavolo’s wish to act more normal with you. “I’m sorry. I really thought Luci was going to keep you updated,” you mumbled into his hug, and Diavolo let out a long, sad sigh that tugged on your heartstrings. 

“I can think about why,” Diavolo revealed, and your curiosity perked up at that, showing in your face when you finally brought some distance between you two. “Why?” you asked, unsure what he could mean, but Diavolo’s answer kept you waiting while his eyes scanned all over you, inspecting all of you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. “It’s not a surprise. Anyone would want you all to themselves.”

Furrowing your brows, you let yourself be led to the discussion couch in the middle of the room, sitting down together with Diavolo on his urging. “If Lucifer had told me, I’d have insisted on tagging along. I am sure he wanted to be the only one to have all of your attention this weekend.”

Spluttering, you felt the heat shoot into your head as you shook it vehemently. “It’s not like that! I just showed him around my hometown, and we had all kinds of foods, and...” your words trailed off as you heard the door behind you open again, Barbatos walking in with an apologetic smile as if he had interrupted something, tea tray in his hands.

“As I said, it was just a change of scenery.” Clearing your throat, you tried to change the topic, looking Diavolo straight in the eyes as you spoke up. For a moment, you thought to notice a disapproving gleam in his eyes, but you merely spoke over the bad feeling his unusual stern expression and crossed arms gave you. “What have you been up to? I hope you didn’t just have to work all weekend!”

Prolonging his response, Diavolo hummed thoughtfully before sitting up straight and opening up his arms to receive the cup of tea Barbatos was handing to him, and afterwards to you. “That’s all, Barbatos,” he confirmed to his servant, the latter bowing before taking his leave. You thanked Barbatos too and took a sip of the hot beverage, letting the delicate aromas of the drink fill your nose. 

“I’ve... I’ve been busy, yeah,” Diavolo eventually simply admitted, an uncommon short answer coming from him. Not like he had much leisure to tell endless tales, but usually, he talked in longer sentences. “It’s been a quiet weekend, and I actually wanted to ask you to join me for tea, but I guess my message never reached you.”

“Oh, no...” you mumbled, realizing that since your DDD didn’t have reception in the human world, you hadn’t even checked it once in all this time. Not even know had you charged it and looked at it, having come directly to the castle instead after your return. A crude mistake on your side.

“It’s no problem.” A short smile crossed his lips as Diavolo looked into your regretful eyes. “I am used to it. You are always up to something with the brothers, so I am not surprised when you didn’t reply.” But disappointed. The words he didn’t speak were plainly visible on his face, and you felt a sting in your heart knowing that your carelessness had upset him. Biting your lip as you thought, you decided to make it up to him in the best way you could come up with.

“I’m sorry, your Highness... But I am here now! How about I wait for you to finish your work and we can go out together and have dinner? Promise I won’t leave this time!” Laughing, you tried to lift the mood, and at first, he gave you a raised brow and a somewhat skeptical look, but soon enough, even the Lord couldn’t resist your smile, chiming in softly. 

“Here, let me,” he prompted, taking your cup from you and filling it up with fresh, warm tea even though you hadn’t even finished. Being only able to see his back, you could only assume he even put sugar into the new brew for you, stirring your cup dutifully. It was an honor to receive such a treatment from someone like Diavolo, and you made sure to thank him plenty when he handed the cup back to you. 

“I think spending some time with you is a good idea. This weekend I’ve just been a bit too gloomy for everyone in the castle, I think. Can you believe it? I broke half of the entire inventory on tea sets we own in my frustration.”

Diavolo laughed out loudly while you couldn’t help but feel concerned about what he just revealed to you. It didn’t sound very healthy that he’d let out his mood on the items around him, much less on the people who had to endure the chaos he caused. Giving him a forced polite smile, you decided it was best to let him talk while you sipped your tea. It was almost too sweet now to enjoy it, but since Diavolo went out of his way to prepare it, who were you to refuse the gesture just because it was a little sweet?

“Everytime they brought me a new one, I felt so lonely since you never responded. Eventually, Barbartos decided no more tea for me.” His laugh became even louder as you felt your stomach twist anxiously, not liking what you were hearing. 

“But now you’re here.” Diavolo’s eyes focused back on you, blinking innocently as if he didn’t just reveal that he caused quite an unnecessary troubles. He opened his mouth, breathing in visibly before he continued to speak, one of his hands coming down to lay on your free one resting in your lap. “Let’s not talk about the past anymore. We should think about what we want to do when you wake up instead!”

“When I wake up?” you questioned, confused. Was this a dream? Did Diavolo meet you while you were asleep still? But everything and even his touch felt so real and warm, it couldn’t be. “Well, I didn’t think I’d stay the night. There’s school tomorrow, right?” you chuckled jokingly, nudging him slightly, but when you continued to talk, your voice betrayed you, cracking as you felt a nervous pull inside of you.

“I... I just thought we could go for dinner later, so we have enough time to prepare for tomorrow at home.”

As if on cue, the moment you finished your sentence, you looked back at Diavolo, feeling suddenly very light-headed. “I heard you, [Name].” Diavolo spoke slowly, sounding a bit like he was talking to a toddler, trying to pronounce his words clearly. “But you said it. You’re not leaving this time, and a promise is a promise.”

“W-What... What’s going on... ?” 

Indifferent to your growing discomfort, Diavolo took the cup of tea from you, putting it down on the coffee table before inching closer to you. An arm wrapped around your shoulders while another pressed between your knees and the couch, all while you felt dizzy and dizzier, your body slowly but surely growing heavy. “I think I deserve some extra time with you, and tonight must suffice for now. Maybe even tomorrow? Let’s see how long the magic lasts. Do you like movies?”

Really, it was more of a monologue by now as you could barely manage to speak anymore, being hit by seemingly the weight of the world as Diavolo lifted you gently from the couch. “We could watch one of the new movies I sponsored. Rate if they did a good job.” Giggling like an excited child, your head fell against his chest, your breathing growing slow and steady despite the inner panic you felt just seconds ago. Your eyelids felt like they were solid blocks of cement, ready to bow to gravity and fall closed.

“I know, you're very tired, you don’t need to answer me right away. I promise we’ll have a lot of fun together later, and you can tell me if you like movies then. If not...” Diavolo’s words came to a halt while he carried you forward, doors opening for him with seemingly no effort as he simply kept going and going. But it was too hard to comprehend what was going on, only a feeling of fear and disapproval left bubbling inside of you for a few moments more. 

“If not, I am sure we’ll find something,” he promised with a wide grin on his face. You felt his lips connect with the top of your head briefly before a second wave of tiredness overcame you, this time too strong to resist. Your eyelids refused to open while your mind was lulled into a dreamless sleep, your limbs hanging loosely from Diavolo’s arms. The last thing you remembered wondering was what he was going to do with you, but luckily, you didn’t finish this thought and rode yourself into more anxiety than the situation already gave you.

If Levi’s envy, Satan’s wrath, and Lucifer’s pride - feelings that were ever so possessive over you - were awful in your opinion, then you should have known better than to rise all of them in the strongest Demon that currently existed. Unless, that was, if you wanted him to catch you like a mouse with a piece of cheese?

If that was the case, you achieved exactly what you wanted.

[beauty-and-passion]

Silly fun challenge prompt: what languages do you associate with the Sides/what would be the 2nd language each Side learn?

For example I am a big fan of Hispanic (Spanish speaking) Creativitwins fanon. And c! Thomas too could've learnt Spanish in high school and the fact his love interest is hispanic too just makes perfect sense-

And in contrast to Hispanic twins I headcanon Janus as a francophone (French speaking) for two reasons: 1) it was still lingua franca around Victorian era, his aesthetic inspiration and 2) dividing American high school by Spanish class vs. French class is like causing Civil War (I was and still am a language nerd, so I learnt both languages, which was a mistake but the kind of mistake that was worth it when you think about it later)

German suites Logan since lots of famous philosophers are German. I associate Japanese or Korean with Virgil since those two are really dominant in the current subculture world (and maybe our emo could've been inspired and turn into E-boy - wow that sounds terrifying)

I don't have strong preference on Patton's but Italian sounds nice, since all those music and dessert and anything sweet are often from Italy. And maybe 'Orange' can be some language that sounds harsh like Russian, so he can murmur in that in sleep and scares everyone else

I know you're in Europe: 1) you use GMT and 2) Americans wouldn't care about Eurovision. So I wonder how you would think based on your European experience!

Oooh, I like this! As European Who Studied Languages, I definitely approve this and I'll gladly add my two cents about which languages the sides should learn.

_________

Roman: He canonically knows Spanish and that's perfect like that. Spanish is a romantic language, someone speaks Spanish and you can't help but swoon. It’s a great choice for the Side responsible for romance and passion.

_________

Remus: Remus isn't just intrusive thoughts, but there’s a very high chance he’s also responsible for Thomas' sexual urges. So, what is the language made for sex? You’re right, it’s French. French is sexy. You can say anything in French and bam, ✨sexy ✨.

"Je sors la poubelle." Sexy, isn't it? Well, I just said "I'm taking out the trash". See? Very sexy.

(French people, please confirm my words. We all know it’s true)

_________

Janus: Your points are incredibly valid and I love them. But if we should choose among all languages, I would love Janus to be one of the very few (extremely few) people in the world who can speak Latin.

I know Latin is a dead language, but it would be great - and not just because of the connection with his name.

Let’s consider that the other Romance languages, despite evolving from Latin, cannot entirely understand it, because they all changed a lot through the centuries after mixing with the Germanic ones. On the other hand, the Germanic languages (English, German, Swedish and so on) are part of a completely different group, only slightly influenced by Latin, so they cannot understand it.

In other words, Janus would speak a language that only sounds familiar - and maybe you can grasp a couple words here and there if you know a romance language, but the true meaning is hidden. What is he actually saying? Who knows. Is he actually cursing someone? Who knows. After all, do you understand Latin? Yeah, me neither.

If I have to pick a language that is still spoken today instead, I think I'll join you with French. Your points are valid and French is a very elegant language, fitting for Janus’ whole aesthetic. So yes, French could work.

_________

Logan: German is a great choice and you are absolutely right with your point about the philosophers. Also German is a language of harsh sounds and strict grammar rules - for example:

declensions that should be used accordingly for articles, adjectives and nouns

specific verbs for specific meanings

words made by putting together shorter words (like Haustürschlüssel.  Haustür means “front door”, Schlüssel means “key” -> this word means “front door’s key”)

sentences that should follow a specific construction, with parts of the compound verb after the noun and part at the end of the sentence. And secondary phrases also have a specific syntax and should always be introduced by a comma

In other words, it's a very organized language and I think it would fit Logan.

But also, considering that almost all words related to science and philosophy come from Greek, I think Logan should at least understand some Greek. As a treat.

(Also because Greek is another incredibly complicated language, so if someone has the patience to learn it, it’s definitely Logan.)

_________

Virgil: oh my gosh, I never thought about an eastern language for Virgil. In a way, it would be a very peculiar choice and I kinda like it. Japanese and Korean are extremely complicated languages, they have a very specific alphabet (I'm especially thinking about the Japanese one, that even asks for a specific direction to write words) and require a lot of work (and memory) to learn them.

But Virgil is also a poet and when I think of poets and sonnets my first connection is with the french ennui, le mal du vivre and especially Baudelaire and his works. Virgil would appreciate Baudelaire a lot. So French, again.

But hey, there’s too much French now. So I’ll pick the other european literature full of sadness: the russian one.

Russian is supposed to be a big scary language and its alphabet is weird and omg what if they're cursing us? But if you learn it a little bit, you’ll find out that Russian has a lot of soft/open sounds (due to a good use of vowels) and it's very poetic.

So the language itself is a bit like Virgil: he seems scary and evil at a first glance, but if you learn about him, he's actually kinder than he looks.

But never underestimate Russian, because just like Anxiety, fear is just behind the corner: you start learning it and wow, there is just one present tense, one past tense and one future tense? This is great, what a wonderful language!

And then, before you’ll realize it, you will find out that each verb has a “doppelganger” used for entirely different purposes AND there a gazillion verbs of motion and you will end up crying on the floor, because there are just too many verbs - and look, there are also one trillion particles you can put before these verbs and they give them EVEN MORE MEANINGS.

No, this isn't entirely based on my personal experience, what makes you think that.

_________

Patton: I have never thought about Patton learning another language, because English just fits him too well.

But when you proposed Italian... well, my heart just wiped out everything else. There is nothing here, only Patton speaking Italian.

So yes, Patton's second language should be Italian. No, it must be Italian. Because French is the language of sex, Spanish is the language of love, but if you want to declare your eternal love to someone, you use Italian. Do you want to marry someone? Italian. Do you want to tell your significant other how much you adore them? Italian. Italian has one million ways to express love and Patton should use them all with his kiddos.

And yes, Italian is also associated with warm people, warm places and good food, all things Patton deserves and should enjoy. So Italian is a big yes.

_________

Orange: since Orange is a mystery, I am a bit torn between these two languages:

1) Esperanto: This language is amazing, because it isn’t a natural language, born like all others, but it has been built by a man, who wanted to create an universal language in order to foster world peace and international understanding.

So this language has been created to be as simple as possible, with a very regular grammar (unlike all other natural languages) and its words all have references to other language groups (romance, germanic, slavic, indo-europeans, finno-ugric languages and so on).

And if you actually listen to it (especially if you know some latin languages) you will find it weirdly understandable. I found this video in particular and I was impressed by how strangely familiar esperanto sounds.

And... that’s it, I just think it would be kinda poetic that the last side knows a language that all others can use and understand.

2) A Greenlandic language. Why? Because they are insanely polysynthetic.

What does that mean? If in German you can make words by putting together other two/three words (like in the example I used before), in the Greenlandic languages you can build an entire sentence by putting together nouns, verbs, articles and everything else. All together in one single word, whose meaning can be translated with an entire sentence in another language.

Do you want an example? Here is an example from Wikipedia: tuntussuqatarniksaitengqiggtuq.

Yes, this is a word.

This word is from the Yupik language and means "He had not yet said again that he was going to hunt reindeer.". And this word is made of:

tuntu- (= reindeer)

ssur-  (= hunt)

qatar- (future tense)

ni- (= say)

ksaite- (negative)

ngqiggte- (= again)

uq  (3rd.sing.IND)

Is this insane? This is fucking insane. Do you want to be scared? This is real fear. What the heck. How. Why.

You know what? This is perfect for Orange, I’ll leave Esperanto to Thomas. Orange deserves to be this scary. I can already see the other sides quiver before him.

_________

And so, here are my guesses! If someone has other ideas, feel free to add yours and tell us why, so we can all have a nice discussion :D