#But now that I spent the time writing all this out- I can't bring myself to delete it.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in order to get a creepy coworker off your back, you begrudgingly let sylus play the part of your fake boyfriend. unfortunately, your emotions and pride quickly spiral out of control.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, enemies to lovers, fake dating, part 1 out of 2, angst, some swearing

★ 𝐰𝐜: 5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: i had HELLA writers block while writing this, so if it seems chaotic and rushed that's why. i really wanted to scrap this but i spent so long on it i would be disappointed if i did. this is part one out of two, and i promise to get part two out super soon! it should be a lot better than this one *sob*

“Is that a new necklace?”

I grimace, the annoying twerp’s voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

“No, Nicholas, it's the one I always wear.” I press my lips into a tight line, staring at the papers in front of me. After everything I’ve tried, I don’t know how he hasn’t caught on with how absolutely, utterly disinterested I am.

Nicholas was a recent graduate from the academy, starting his first year here at the Association. At first he seemed sweet, like an infatuated kid, but it quickly worsened and now I have to deal with harassment every day at work.

He’d do anything and everything to spark a conversation, trying to work any attention out of me despite all my efforts of ignoring him. I tried to be nice originally, letting him down easily whenever he’d pay me compliments and ask me out to lunch.

That didn’t work.

He became more persistent, and I resorted to either giving him the silent treatment or being straight up rude. Throwing him off my back seemed like an impossible task, and I was convinced I had developed some sort of parasite that was bound to me until I retired.

“Ah, I’ve never noticed…” Nicholas sat himself in front of me, and I could feel his stare on my face.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

“Hey guys!”

Thank God.

Forcing a smile at Tara’s cheerfulness, Nicholas paid her a nod, clearly unsettled with her interruption. She came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. If there was anyone who was capable of putting a wedge in between me and my borderline stalker, it was Tara.

“Are you excited for the Hunter’s Ball? I can't believe it’s already coming up…” She sighed dreamily behind me, resting her cheek on the top of my head. While the Hunter’s Ball wasn’t my favorite event, it was typically a good time.

Well, at least before Nicholas came along.

I couldn’t imagine how it would go this year, him crawling six feet up my ass as I try to shake him off the whole night. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him sober, I can’t even imagine how much more unbearable he’d become with drinks in his system. This was the one night of the year the Association actually shows their appreciation for their employees, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t enjoy myself.

“It’s always nice we get a plus one,” Tara mentions, “I can't wait to see who everyone brings." She nudges my shoulder with her arm, laughing.

The look in Nicholas’ eyes told me everything he was about to say. I could practically hear the words come out of his mouth before he even spoke them-

“Yeah, I’m gonna bring my boyfriend.” I spoke before thinking, the words an act of desperation. Nicholas’ eyes widened and Tara’s arms flew from my body, as she whipped herself to stand in front of me.

Oh no, why would I say that- Why did I say that?!

“Your… what!” She started grasping at my hands, questions flying out of her mouth before I couldn’t even process half of them, “Since when? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him? Do you have any pictures?”

I knew I had gotten myself into trouble, I didn’t even have the slightest clue as to who I could possibly feign to be my boyfriend; but the look on Nicholas’ face told me I needed to keep up whatever I was doing, because it was working.

I smiled innocently, “We’ve been keeping it on the down low, things are still pretty new. I was planning to hard launch us at the Ball.” Chuckling nervously, I was convinced nobody was believing a word I was saying.

“Ohmygosh Mystery Man! I’m so excited!” Tara continued to blabber on, trying to pull any detail she could out of me. I made eye contact with Nicholas and thought about how soon the Ball was - only a week away.

Letting out a sigh of relief because of my believable lie, the feeling soon faded and was replaced with chest crushing stress. I had no boyfriend, and no plan; I was going to have to think fast.

-

Laying in my bed that night, I scoured my brain for any potential suitor. I thought maybe Zayne, a cardiac surgeon and childhood best friend. He’d be perfect, all my coworkers would be so pleased, but a cow would have to jump over the moon before he’d even think about complying. Maybe Xavier’s friend Jeremiah? A sweet florist…No, Xavier would never let me do that.

I flipped onto my stomach, screaming into my pillow. Smushing my face into the fabric, I silently prayed I’d suffocate and be free from this mess I’d webbed myself into.

Before I could pass out and be put out of my misery, my phone started to ring.

Not even looking at the caller id, I picked it up and answered with a disgruntled, “Hello?”

“You never sound pleased to hear from me, Kitten.”

I screamed into the pillow again, Sylus being the complete utter last person I wanted to hear from right now.

He chuckled over the line, “Actually, I think that might be the unhappiest I’ve heard you.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I not just call to talk? I’ve had a rough day and wanted to hear your voice.”

I let out a forced laugh, “You’ve had a rough day? YOU’VE had a rough day? You will not believe the day I had then.”

His voice softened, “Talk to me about it then.”

While I most definitely realized my day couldn’t be comparable to his, as he was essentially a mob boss running the N109 Zone, venting about my problems felt nice. As much as I couldn’t stand Sylus, with his incessant arrogance and backhanded flattery, he was easy to talk to sometimes.

Sometimes.

“I don’t even know how I got myself into this situation. Well, I do know, I just didn’t mean to!” I groaned, throwing my face into my hands.

He sits in silence for a minute, and I can hear the soft playing of one of his records in the background. It’s annoying how he feels the need to call and bother me, with a side of music, to wind down at night.

“When is it?” He finally asks, and I hear shuffling.

“Next Saturday, so…” I can practically see the clock ticking down, “Shit, a week from today.”

“What time?”

“9- Sylus, why?”

“I’ll be there at 8:30 then.” There’s mirth in his voice and my face goes pale, “Sylus, no, don’t you dare. It cannot be you, just let me borrow one of your men or something.”

Sylus lets out a low laugh, “Now why would I do that when I could just be your date?”

“Not date,” I cut him off, “fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, fake boyfriend.” He clucked his tongue, “Why would I let someone else be your fake boyfriend?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re the big bad Onychinus boss?” Pressing a finger to my temple to ease the headache that he was becoming, I started to pace my floor. “You’re stepping into enemy territory at this event, there’s no way I’ll be able to save your ass if you get found out, let alone what will happen to me and my place at the Association.”

“I’ve already met some of your coworkers before, remember? It’s best if it's me instead of some stranger, and trust me sweetie, they won’t know.”

My coworkers did take a liking to him when they met during one of our outings, Sylus just had this charisma about him that sucked everyone in; the mysterious fruit vendor Skye who was absolutely horrid at karaoke. He stole their hearts quickly, and I’m lucky if they don’t ask me at least once a week how he’s doing. Sylus was just magnetic like that, even if you tried your damndest to hate him, there’s just something about his demeanor that’s magic.

He has a point here, and it’s killing me to admit he’s right.

“Fine,” I snap, “but absolutely no funny business.”

“I’m not sure what you could possibly mean by that, Kitten.” Sylus lets out a low laugh that makes me want to punch my phone, “I’ll be there at 8:30.”

Before I can respond, he quickly hangs up. I’m left sitting on my bed with racing thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong. Was bringing Sylus really worth getting this creep off my back? Well, if there was anyone who could scare him off, it would be the leader of Onychinus. Worst case scenario, I have Sylus pull a gun out on him.

I shake my head, trying to clear my stupid thoughts.

I sent him a picture of the invitation, which included the dress code. I wasn’t too worried about him making a fool out of me, just the overwhelming anxiety of bringing a top criminal as my date to a work event where we quite literally are attempting to hunt this exact man down.

Trying to trust Sylus isn’t the easily discoverable type, I make a miserable attempt to put my mind to rest, and get some sleep.

-

The next week following my abrupt news of a boyfriend was hell. Not to my surprise, word was quickly spread through the Association, and I was constantly being flooded with questions and endless pressure to just ‘give them a name!’. I even had Xavier at my desk with questions one morning, and he was always the type to steer away from work related gossip.

Not to mention Sylus himself was being utterly insufferable. He was taking this far too seriously, sending lunch and flowers to my work with paper love notes attached. It was bringing on more attention at work, and every time I told him to stop, he’d just send more extravagant bouquets that cluttered my desk and made the surrounding area smell like a funeral.

At one point, I woke up to a box in the mail. Inside was a black velvet dress, a ruby necklace, and heels. Sending him an angry text about how I have my own clothes, he just responded by transferring 200 dollars into my bank account saying, ‘Get your nails done too. Match the outfit.’

By Saturday night, I was almost ready for everyone to meet Sylus, just so people would stop with the ‘fake boyfriend trivia’ while I’m on the clock, and his annoying attempts at romantic gestures.

The night of, at 8:30 on the dot, I heard a knock at my door.

On the other side was a well dressed Sylus; I think it was the first time I had ever seen him done up so nicely. He wasn’t ever one to slack on his looks, but in his black pinstripe suit and red tie that matched my gifted necklace, I had to take a second. Even though he made me constantly want to take my gun and replicate the time I shot him, I could never deny he’s hot. His arguably perfect looks just adds to the hatred.

He looked me up and down, smirking. The dress he had gotten me was backless and stopped at my ankles, with a slit up to my thigh that had me worried that with one wrong move I’d flash all my coworkers. Opening his mouth to I’m sure to make a snide comment, I cut him off.

“I have to put on my shoes and that necklace, but then I’m ready.” I walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the ruby piece that was gifted, struggling with the clasp thanks to the nails I was practically forced to get.

“Here.” Coming up behind me, Sylus took the necklace from my hands. Brushing my hair out of the way, I felt his fingers against my neck as he secured the jewelry with ease. I turned around to face him, and he smiled down at me.

He gestured to the couch, “Sit.”

His one word commands were starting to get on my nerves. “What?” I glared at him.

Grabbing my shoulder and softly pushing me back, I tumbled onto the couch. Sylus snickered, “I said sit, Kitten.”

Getting on his knees, he picked up my ankle, slipping the heel onto my foot.

“I could’ve done this myself.” Scoffing, I averted my eyes to anywhere that wasn’t Sylus on his knees in front of me.

“I’m sure you could with those nails, sweetie.” He hooked the straps around my ankle, and I felt my skin burn red where his fingers danced. It was definitely red with anger.

For sure.

Standing when he was done, Sylus reached a hand out to me. Narrowing my eyes at his hand, I ignored the help. To my dismay, I stood up too fast in heels and lost a bit of my balance. Sylus caught my waist and gave me a smug smile, pulling me into him. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight, my love.”

I grimaced, pulling away from his grasp and heading to the door. “Oh, do not do that. No more of that.”

“We have to get into character, I’m just being prepared.”

“Be in character when we’re there. Not here.”

“I have to get into the mindset.” Sylus creeped closer to me, and I stepped back. At this point, I was essentially pinned in between him and the door. “After all, I have to practice so I can impress everybody.” He leaned down, his breath fanning against the side of my neck.

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, opening the door behind me and taking a backwards step out. Sylus stumbled at the sudden movement, and I smirked at his loss of composure. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

-

When we arrived, I felt my heart begin to race. All the mental preparation I had done for this exact night fled my mind as soon as Sylus put the car into park. My worry was not of showing off my new fancy fake boyfriend, it was the fact that I was bringing my new fancy fake boyfriend into an arena that was hunting him. Over the past week I’ve tried telling myself he’s not easily discoverable, I mean, if he was, the Association would’ve had him tracked down by now. However, knowing my luck, I was preparing for the worst.

Sylus gently placed his hand on my thigh, attempting to give me a reassuring smile, “It’ll be okay, Kitten. Just follow my lead.”

We’re fucked.

He walked around, opening the door for me. His car was clearly the nicest and most expensive out of all the guests tonight, and I knew if anybody saw I’d never hear the end of it.

When we were nearing the entrance, I sighed, shoving down my pride and grabbing Sylus’ arm, wrapping myself sweetly around his bicep. I watched his lips curve upward into a smug smile, and I suppressed the urge to throw myself off and take my heel to his-

“Invitation please.” Sylus handed the men working the door the two slips of paper, and I begrudgingly walked in clinging to his arm.

‘Playing the character’, I thought.

The venue the Ball was being held at was extravagant, with a high, golden ceiling, and golden marble floors.

It was filled to the brim with people that worked for the Association, plus their guests. I winced at the sheer amount of people, automatically going into defense mode due to the overwhelming fact that we were outnumbered.

“Smile, sweetie.” Letting go of his arm, Sylus took his pointer finger and thumb, lightly pulling the corners of my mouth upward.

I nipped at his finger, and he poked my nose as a warning.

I heard someone shriek my name, and I whipped around to see Tara quickly approaching. “Oh wow, you’re beautiful!” She wrapped me up in a tight hug, rocking me side to side. Letting go of me just as fast, Tara gasped when she saw Sylus.

“Skye! Oh my gosh it’s you, how sweet!” She fawned over us, and he smiled kindly at her, “You look lovely tonight, Tara.” If he kept up the nice talk, I was going to put my head through one of the walls.

“Here, come with me. Some of us already have a table together!”

Tara dragged us over to a table where a few of my most nagging coworkers stood around talking. Introducing him to the ones who had never met him, I groaned internally, ready for the torment of questions to begin.

“So,” Tara dropped the first bomb, “how long have you two been a thing?” I know this has been weighing on her worse than me all week.

“About a month now.” Sylus answered with ease. I tried to suppress a shocked look on my face, because I was planning on doing all the talking; but that continued, them rapid firing questions and Sylus answering all of them as if he had this all thought out. I mean, shit, he was convincing me.

“I have to know how this happened!” One of them said, and Sylus tucked my hair behind my ear, pretending to recall the moment.

“I had feelings for her for a while,” He said, smiling down at me, “and it got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. It was spur of the moment, but I showed up at her door in the middle of the night and had to ask her if she felt the same.”

Damn. He was good.

All the girls squealed, “That's so romantic!”

I placed my hand on Sylus’ chest, batting my eyelashes up at him, “I’m gonna go get a drink, d’you want anything?” He grabbed my hand, matching my energy, and kissing my knuckles, “No, sweetie, that’s quite alright. I’ll stay here and entertain your friends.”

All of them cooed at the sight, probably thinking we were so lovesick for each other it hurt. Well, it did hurt, this whole thing was a pain in my ass I needed to be over.

I grabbed a glass of wine from the drink table, the group out of sight. Sighing, I resisted the urge to down the glass all at once. While I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t deny everything was going well. Everyone was pleased, so I tried to relax.

“That's a pretty necklace,” I heard from behind me, “is it new?”

Nevermind.

Turning around, there stood Nicholas. His eyelids drooped, and he reeked of wine.

“What did you say?” I asked, looking around for the quickest exit route.

“I said I liked your necklace. Is it new?”

God, does this twerp have any other material?

“Yes, it is.” A low voice said, and I felt an arm wrap around my waist. My head shot up to meet Sylus in the eyes; I guess my face was screaming, ‘Help me!’, because he gave my side a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“Oh.” Was all Nicholas replied, shooting his eyes back and forth between Sylus and I. In his head, I imagined the pieces clicking together. ‘This is it,’ I thought, ‘finally he’ll leave me alone!’

“This song is nice… Would you care to dance?” There were no thoughts behind his eyes. This guy was genuinely dense. I could’ve sworn my jaw dropped at his stupidity, and Sylus chuckled next to me.

“So sorry, but tonight she’s mine.” Swiftly sweeping me away, Nicholas and my glass of wine were quickly left behind.

“Why don’t you dance with me instead, sweetie?” Sylus said, leading me to the open floor where people were dancing to the soft classical music.

Sylus put my hand on his shoulder, intertwining my other hand with his. Placing his hand on my lower back, he pulled me in closer to him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes stared into mine, and there was something behind them I couldn’t quite place my finger on. We started slowly ballroom dancing in our own little spot on the floor, a bit away from everyone else. As much as I wanted to strangle this man, I could relax a little in his arms. He just felt safe sometimes.

Sometimes.

“You’re doing good tonight.” Sylus said, still looking into my eyes.

“Thanks.” I started playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “So where do we go from here?”

He raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do, Kitten.”

“How am I going to tell my coworkers that we ‘broke up’ right after this? They’ll be suspicious.”

“We could keep doing this for a while.” Sylus shrugged, smirking.

Groaning, I slammed my head on his shoulder, “Tonight was bad enough, I can’t do this for any longer.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He was right. I didn’t have a better idea.

-

So we did just that.

I was going to give it two months. Then, it would say we were together for three months total, which looked like a completely reasonable time to test run a relationship and then call it quits.

At first, I was completely miserable. I already couldn’t stand Sylus as a friend, how could I stand him as my ‘boyfriend’? After that night at the Ball, to my dismay, he completely won everybody over. It made me feel like I had to put more effort into faking all of this.

The extravagant gifts sent to my work started getting sent to my place too. I told him he didn’t have to send them to me outside of work, let alone at all, but he always insisted so he could “stay in character”.

Whether it was convincing me to let him take me out to fancy places, like dinner or a show, it was always just to keep him ‘in character’. I think he just liked using that excuse so I would be forced to hang out with him and not be able to deny or complain about it.

Though, after a bit, it became easy to slip into a groove.

I started to not mind the talk about Sylus; everything started to become bearable, and dare I say it, kind of fun.

We had played with the claw machines once, and he won a white cat plushie. Jokingly, I had told him it looks exactly like him, and snapped a picture of the cat next to his face to prove a point.

I made that photo my wallpaper, to make things more realistic. It freaked me out for a while whenever I’d open my phone, but I came to like it after a while. Sylus looked kind of cute in the photo, his expression mocking the plushies. He looked kind, warm, a soft look on his face you didn’t see on him often. The more I saw the photo, the more it made me smile.

I began looking forward to his calls, his texts. He’d call me to say good morning, or tell me goodnight, even if he was in the middle of a meeting. The ‘fake dates’ became less uncomfortable as I grew more accustomed to the situation we had put ourselves into. The roles we were playing came easier and easier with time.

Which was causing a problem.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way my body would flush when he touched me, or how my once strong demeanor around him would start to falter. Words and actions of his that would be fast to anger me, quickly changed into something else.

I was starting to care about him. How annoying.

There was one day when Sylus decided he was going to pick me up from work. “Your coworkers will think it's cute.” He had said, and who was I to deny a free ride home.

He showed up on his bike in his leather jacket, in all his badass glory. Leaning against the bike, he stood up straight and smiled at me when I came outside. As time had gone on, Sylus was slowly becoming less hard and uncaring towards me. He began treating me like I was fragile, always so gentle with me. Him getting into character I suppose.

Sylus held his hand out towards me, and when I took it, he pulled me into his chest. I squealed, laughing at the sudden gesture.

“They’re looking,” He said, glancing at a few of my coworkers still inside, watching us intensely, “Kiss me.”

I choked, “What?”

He grabbed my chin, tilting it up slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, almost as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’.

Nodding my head yes, Sylus smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. For how aggressive he can be as the leader of Onychinus, the kiss was unusually soft. I had imagined kissing him, for all of this, and I never expected him to be the type to be so kind and gentle.

My blood was rushing in my ears and I thought I was going to melt under his hands. I didn’t realize just how bad I subconsciously wanted this until it was happening, and I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him so hard I could steal the air from his lungs, I wanted to grip his shirt so tightly my knuckles turned white because I could finally have him.

When he pulled away, and kissed the corner of my eye, I knew I was fucked.

I didn’t just care about him, I wanted him. I wanted Sylus to be mine, I wanted this to be real, I wanted-

No, I couldn’t want anything.

It would never work. Our lives were too different, we were too different, everything would be doomed from the start. He was a faraway dream that would never come true. He could never be what I wanted.

I always wanted security, someone stable and safe. Sylus could never give me that.

So why do I want him so badly?

-

It was my friend's birthday party.

I had invited Sylus, because what had originally been a fake relationship to get a creep coworker off my back, spread like a wildfire to a fake relationship that was now known by all my friends.

I only invited him because I knew it would be strange if I showed up without him.

After he kissed me, and my feelings became a living hell to deal with, I started to pull back; started to psych myself out mentally, constantly spending time just trying to convince myself how bad we would be for each other. Trying to will myself to hate him again, go back to where I was two months ago. When Sylus was a nuisance, an annoying pest.

I don’t even really think he noticed. Or if he did, I couldn’t tell.

When we got to the party, the music and laughter could be heard from outside, a drastic change from the almost silent car ride. Sylus tried to make conversation, and I shut him down almost every time.

We walked in, and my friends all greeted him with easy familiarity. They gave him hugs, pats on the back, and he was welcomed effortlessly.

I stood a distance away as he laughed with my friends, and my chest began to hurt. Guilt, dread, I felt doomed. He wasn’t meant to be here, he was never meant to be here. Sylus doesn’t belong with my friends. Sylus doesn’t belong with me.

None of this is real. All of this is one little lie that spun into a web of something so much bigger, and I’m stuck in it.

He looks happy with them, happy with my friends. Happy in my space, with my people. How could he? He’s an intruder, he knows it.

I knew tonight was the night I was done. This couldn’t go on any longer. No more playing house with Sylus, no more pretending. We’re adults, and this whole thing was so childish, and it ends now.

I stepped outside, sitting on the back patio. The night air was cold, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sharp air of my distress that was making my lungs constrict.

“There you are.”

I didn’t turn around to meet the voice, just kept staring into the trees ahead.

Sylus stood beside me, running his fingers through the top of my hair. I relished the feeling, ‘one last time, it’s okay’.

He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask why I was out here, if I was okay. I was happy for that, it could give me another reason to be mad at him. To hate him again. To try and rile up all my old feelings, stir old bitterness.

“I want to go home.” I finally said, breaking the silence.

We got in the car, this time he didn’t try to speak. His face was hard again, the soft look long gone. I think, in a way, he knew too. He knows this is for the better.

I said goodbye, told him goodnight before he left. Told him to drive safely.

It had been two months, that’s what I gave him. It was time for it to be over anyways. I changed my wallpaper, changed his name back. I didn’t care if I had to deal with Nicholas at my job anymore, anything was better than the gutted feeling I got from every interaction with Sylus. Nothing was worth that.

The next day, it was radio silence. For the first time in two months, there was nothing. No good morning, no texts throughout the day, no calls to tell me goodnight; and that just continued. For days. Silence.

I had perfected the speech I was going to tell my coworkers, “We gave it our best, but it just wasn’t going to work out between us.” It was reassurance for them, and myself.

It just wasn’t going to work out between us.

[roosterr]

if ur requests are open, could we have like 141 falling asleep on the reader??? like different scenarios for each of them like price falls asleep accidentally and so does ghost while gaz and soap are like cuddling or laying on the reader :) i love ur writing so much <333

the 141 falls asleep on you

wc: 2.1k

hello!!! been struggling to love my writing for like the last month so i really hope you enjoy, and i'm sorry in advance lol its mostly fluffy but i just couldn't help myself with a lil bit of angst :)

price

✹ when you hear the front door open in the middle of the night – or, technically, early morning – the first thought your sleep-addled mind comes up with is that you're being robbed.

✹ with your heart in your throat, you sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door, but your fear is short lived when a dull thud meets your ears, followed by a familiar curse that has you breathing a sigh of relief.

✹ your husband, coming home at last from a night of drinking with the other members of the taskforce, presumably stubbing his toe on the sofa that hasn't moved an inch since you put it there all those years ago.

✹ with a deep yawn, you get back under the covers and let your eyes fall shut again, the knowledge that it was john downstairs and not a burglar putting your racing heart to rest.

✹ you don't react when he clumsily slips through the door, fighting the laugh that threatens to give you away when you hear him swear under his breath after bumping into yet another piece of furniture.

✹ the cold air sends goosebumps rippling across your skin when he lifts the covers to clamber in beside you, but the chill is quickly chased away by his hands bringing you into his chest and his enveloping warmth.

✹ "and what time do you call this?" you tease in a whisper, opening your eyes to see his guilty ones looking back at you. the slight flush in his cheeks and his half-lidded gaze gives him a boyish charm that you can't even pretend to be mad at.

✹ "sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you..." he murmurs in return, a sheepish smile pulling at one side of his lips.

✹ "well, i'm glad you had a good time," you punctuate your reply by placing a light kiss on the bridge of his nose, which prompts his smile to grow wider as he hugs your body to his own.

✹ "i'm havin' a better time now, love." he ghosts his lips over yours as he whispers, earning another tiny chuckle from you, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your back under your shirt.

✹ you can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans even further into you, and taste it when he closes the distance to devour your lips in a passionate, if slightly messy, kiss.

✹ he sighs into your mouth, his lips falling from yours when he rolls you onto your back to lay his head on your chest, and like a switch, he's dead asleep.

✹ "john?" you whisper, in a sort of disbelief that he was actually asleep just like that, but he doesn't even flinch when you gently poke his cheek. "oh my god…"

✹ once the morning rolls around, you both share a laugh about his drunken state from the night before, and he makes you promise not to tell the boys he passed out in the middle of kissing you.

✹ you just laugh and file it away for future blackmail.

gaz

✹ the two of you were watching a movie late one night, the first time you've had time to yourselves in months thanks to the never-ending workload you both seem to be under.

✹ the dim mood lighting of your flat combined with the comforting feeling of finally being alone with kyle is nearly enough to send you to sleep already, but your want to spent time with him keeps you awake.

✹ kyle watches you stifle a yawn as he presses play on the movie, and tugs you to lean against him with an arm around your shoulders and a teasing grin. "promise you won't fall asleep this time?"

✹ you look up to him from where your head rests against his collar and huff, a smile of your own playing on your lips as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. "maybe i should be the one asking that."

✹ the bags under his eyes leave no question about how tired he really is, but he was the one that insisted the two of you spend time together tonight, despite the exhaustion you knew he was hiding.

✹ "and leave you all by yourself?" he chuckles, "never, love."

✹ a comfortable quiet settles over you while you watch the movie together; kyle's choice, something action-y you've never seen before, but you know he's seen it a million times. he occasionally adds commentary to make you laugh which he, naturally, manages to do every time.

✹ as the movie plays, you gradually migrate to laying on the sofa on your back with kyle between your legs and his head on your sternum. you absentmindedly run your nails over his scalp, gently massaging his head while he hugs your waist.

✹ it's about two-thirds of the way through the movie that you realise kyle hasn't said anything in a while. you pause your ministrations, smoothing over his curls as you turn your gaze from the screen to where he lays on top of you.

✹ a soft smile lights up your face when your eyes land on his blissfully relaxed features, sound asleep and breathing in time with the steady rise and fall of your chest.

✹ you continue to watch the movie in silence, occasionally petting kyle's hair when he grumbles in his sleep. he deserves the rest, you muse, and something about how peaceful he looks means you can't even entertain the idea of disturbing him. and you would definitely tease him that he fell asleep like he said he wouldn't.

✹ even once the movie has finished, and your back has started to ache from the position against the armrest, you still don't dare wake him. tomorrow was an off day for both of you, so there was no need to go anywhere – as if you would ever want to, intertwined with your boyfriend and surrounded by his warmth.

✹ you close your eyes, give him one last squeeze, and whisper into the silence, "sweet dreams, kyle."

soap

✹ it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

✹ everything was supposed to go smoothly, you'd get what you came for, and you'd be home in time for dinner.

✹ but it hadn't happened like that  of course it didn't. you were on your way out, with johnny by your side, when a sudden noise from behind you caught your attention.

✹ you spin around to see a dishevelled soldier aiming their gun at you, but you noticed just a second too late. you can do little more than watch as they pull the trigger, a sick sense of horror travelling up your spine as time seems to slow down.

✹ there's a split second where you brace to feel the bullet lodge somewhere in your body, but that impact never comes.

✹ with a speed you didn't know he possessed, johnny tackles you to the ground and out of the path of the bullet, landing on top of you and pushing the air from your lungs.

✹ you lay winded underneath him, the sound of him returning fire vaguely reaching your ears but it takes a second for your mind to catch up.

✹ it’s quiet by the time you come back to your senses, johnny already pulling you to stand with a strained grunt.

✹ "johnny?" you frown, taking note of how he favours one side when he urges you to start walking again, "you okay?"

✹ "fine, darlin’, let’s just–" he winces, stumbling ever so slightly and trying to play it off by pushing you in front of him, "let’s just get home, aye?"

✹ your frown deepens. you turn around and stop him with your hands on his shoulders, and it's then that you notice how laboured his breathing has become.

✹ "you're not fine, soap!" your heart sinks as you watch the patches of blood on his leg grow steadily darker, "why didn't you tell me you were hit?"

✹ he doesn't flinch at the anger in your voice, or when you haul his arm over your shoulder and resume dragging him the rest of the way to the helo. he mumbles incoherent that sounds like an apology, but your only focus is getting him to safety and stopping the bleeding.

✹ the others are already waiting for you as the exfil site comes into view, and the moment they spot you shouldering johnny's weight they spring into action to help you.

✹ johnny is dragged up the ramp and made to lay on the floor as gaz and ghost make short work of packing the bullet wound in his thigh with gauze.

✹ you lift his shoulders and head to rest in your lap, grimacing at the pained groans he lets out when ghost puts his weight on the wound.

✹ "why didn't you tell me?" you utter, tilting his head back with your hands on his cheeks and meeting his distant gaze with your brows knitted together in concern.

✹ he musters a weak smile and lets his eyes flutter shut, the muscles in his face visibly relax. "i’m fine… ‘slong as yer okay, bonnie…"

ghost

✹ sometimes you wondered if ghost ever slept.

✹ he would always volunteer himself for the first watch, and he was up before you without fail every morning. on base he always seemed to be in the gym before everyone, and in his office after everyone else has left. he was frustratingly elusive.

✹ it worried you, that perhaps he had trouble sleeping. it made sense, however saddening, that someone like him wouldn't sleep well, but it was even worse that he brushed off your concern for him with practised ease.

✹ he made sure to take care of others, but wouldn't let you try and do the same for him. perhaps he thought you were joking, or that you were only being courteous, but your mind always goes back to one thing; the theory that, for some people, it's only possible for them to fall asleep when they feel safe.

✹ you wanted to be that for him, like he was for you.

✹ you do your best to forget about your rejected concerns for him, and the thought all but slips your mind until a mission two months later.

✹ it was long, drawn-out, and gruelling, and all you wanted to do was get home and have a shower hot enough to melt your skin. it had been almost a week since you've had a moment to catch your breath, and you were more than thankful to be on the way home.

✹ even if that meant being squashed into the back of an suv with soap passed out on your left and ghost on your right. gaz called shotgun and wouldn't give it up for anything, so here you were, shoulder to shoulder with the lieutenant you may or may not harbour feelings for.

✹ the five of you have been on the road for a couple of hours now. the conversation has died down by now and and the quiet hum of the radio was the only sound, besides soap's intermittent snores.

✹ you're on the verge of passing out yourself when a weight drops onto your shoulder, and you have to fight yourself not to jump with the start it gives you.

✹ your tired eyes look to the source and to your utter surprise, they find the dark fabric of ghost's balaclava resting against you, and when you tilt your head you can see the blond of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

✹ the sight brings a smile to your face. as subtle as possible, you shift as much as the limited space of the backseat will allow so his neck isn't bent at such an awkward angle.

✹ he fell asleep on you. perhaps it was just because of the exhaustion this mission left him with, but you like to think back on your theory from weeks ago as you admire the restful expression he wears.

✹ your stop fighting your own exhaustion and let your eyes fall shut, and with your last thread of consciousness you file this memory away for later, and hope that it really does mean that he feels safe with you.

[rirabeko]

Some of Baji's mischaracterization that gives me the ICK

It's 2024 and there are people out there who still can't understand Baji's character and mischaracterize him heavily, mostly because of the Bajifuyu ship.

DISCLAIMER: You can ship whoever you want. I'm just tired of seeing my favourite character constantly being mischaracterized because of toxic shippers. Also I'm not a shipper myself, I do not romanticize any of the relationships I mention below.

The biggest issue with Baji's character is the fact that Bajifuyu shippers (and sometimes just the fandom in general) constantly ignore Kazutora's role in Baji's life, meanwhile Kazutora made a huge impact on Baji's character. You can clearly see it not just in the anime or in the manga, but in the spin-off too.

Baji and Kazutora were that duo, they were a literal separated team within Toman. They met naturally, become friends instantly and spent most of their time together (many times without Toman). It's accepted by the fandom, that Kazutora's first real friend was Baji, but also Baji's first close friend was Kazutora.

Obviously Mikey and Baji were close as kids, but after Baji moved to a different place they weren't that close. I bet this is the reason why Baji didn't know about Shinichiro's bike shop, since when they met regularly Baji was a little kid and Shinichiro was a teenager without a bike shop. It also shows that Mikey and Baji aren't that close, they are more like childhood buddies than close friends.

I can talk about this for hours but now I only wrote it as a small disclaimer, before I get into my points, so let's go.

I am sick of it when:

they call Baji stupid (he literally outsmarted Kisaki, being smart not equals only book smart)

people headcanon him as a mean, aggressive, abusive bf (he is canonly no.1 best lover and he literally died because he has a heart of gold, let this bs go pls)

they can't understand the reason behind his suicide and make it a ship war (ICK)

people can't accept the fact Baji loves his friends differently, and not everyone is his bestie (it doesn't mean he does not love them, or prefers someone over the other but love can be different towards different people and it's absolutely normal!)

they make his character all about Bajifuyu (he is an individual, stop bringing up Chifuyu EVERYTIME when it comes to Baji. His character is much more than a guy in a dominant-submissive fanmade yaoi ship people like dragging him into!)

they make Chifuyu the good, perfect friend while constantly dragging Baji down and made him the bad guy in their relationship (I could write a whole essay just about this being a bullshit)

when they romanticize Bajifuyu (Baji canonly sees Chifuyu as a younger brother figure said by Baji's mom, but there are people out there who still believes unironically that they are in love... WHY?)

they ignore that Baji is very caring and affectionate not just towards Chifuyu, he is like this because these are his own personality traits. He behaves like this with everyone who's close to him. (Mikey, Kazutora, Ryuusei and just Toman in general)

people say Chifuyu was the only one who understood Baji's feelings and aims (the literal reason Baji died was because no one really understood his goals and behaviour, not even Chifuyu)

they romanticize Chifuyu's obsessiveness towards Baji (if Chifuyu was a girl, he would be cancelled for this behaviour immediately, but the double standard won again)

people make his death an opportunity to romanticize Bajifuyu (biggest ICK)

they say Baji is only distant with Chifuyu beacuse he is a tsundere (there are so many situations when Chifuyu truly annoys Baji, e.g. he said it many times that Chifuyu's infatuation really disturbs him and asked Chifuyu to stop)

Bajifuyu shippers ignore and hate Kazutora just because he disturbs their ship

they say Baji was a bad influence to Kazutora (Kazutora hung out with gangs even before he met Baji, he was already a part of the underworld. the reason Kazutora turned out that way was his abusive father and his horrible childhood in general. Baji literally saved him, and he could finally be himself around Baji without any judgement or harassment)

they ignore or even DENY Bajitora's bond because of Bajifuyu

they accept Bajifuyu, Kazufuyu or even the Bajitrio but HATE Bajitora (the biggest bullshit ever)

they can't recognise the fanservice of Bajifuyu and calls them canon because of the clear fanservice acts

people think Bajitora is one sided (more Baji sided) meanwhile Tora loves Baji more than his own life and shows it many times how much he loves Baji and how much Baji means to him

they accept that Chifuyu never changed his hairstyle after Baji made it for him (and obviously they romanticize it) but they are hating because Kazutora looked exactly like Baji in bad toman timeline

people ignore Bajitora and always forgets that they are very close to each other in every timeline. the new panels Wakui drew were also about Kazutora putting Chifuyu to his place after Chifuyu completly ignored Tora and disturbed his time with his best friend. (we all know Kazutora is very possessive with Baji for obvious reasons and does not tolerate being disrespected by someone)

The list could go on and on but these are the main problems I still see in this fandom when it comes to Baji's character.

I'm tired of seeing this amazingly well-written character turns into a boring, abusive, mean guy by the fandom who is only an abuser in a toxic fanmade yaoi ship.

SIDE NOTE:

To all the people who dislike him/call him mean and aggressive because he beat Chifuyu up:

This anime is based on a manga which takes place in the early 2000's gangster world in Japan. He is the captain of the 1st division, he is the leader, and his role is not just to be the strongest in the division but also to manage his team, bc this is also what a leader does. If someone is disrespectful, breaks the rules and shows a bad example to the others he has to punish them. In this world this is how things go. This won't make him a bad person, or an aggressive jerk. Baji can be very calm and collected when it comes to leading his division. He is a very good leader, who takes care of his teammates, so no surprise he is really loved by his division. 

Also when he beat Chifuyu up before joining Valhalla: he hated himself for doing that. But he had to, he had no other choice. And Chifuyu had every right to stand up against Baji and tell him he's not doing it. But since Chifuyu never questions Baji's decisions as the captain of the first division he agreed with this one too, and also because he wanted to help him. Chifuyu knew exactly what he was doing when he let Baji doing this to him, and he went along with it. Stop bringing this up everytime and use it against Baji.

[lucy90712]

Could you write something for Jude. Maybe you guys gets into a fight and you’re surrounded by his family all day. They seem to notice the tension but doesn’t say anything but at some point or after a comment from him you break down and leave to be alone in your room. Leaving everyone shocked and surprised by the situation since you guys are very private. Maybe it could be during Christmas or a holiday?! Anyways if you want to. Thank

"Babe did you get the ice cream to go with the brownies?" Jude asked 

"No I didn't know we needed some it wasn't on the list I only got all the stuff on the list" I said 

"I thought you'd know we needed ice cream" he said

"I'm not psychic Jude we need so much stuff for tonight I spent all afternoon yesterday making a list of what we needed and I told you to put anything I missed on it" I said 

"Well I'm busy I don't have time to be checking a stupid shopping list" Jude said starting to get angry 

"I'm busy too you know" I commented 

"Yeah right all you do is stay here all day" Jude laughed mockingly 

"While I'm here I do all of the things you should be doing I clean I cook I take you wherever you need to go as you still can't drive and I'm doing that course to make my degree useful so I can get a job I don't just do nothing all day and you know it Jude" I said 

I didn't even let him respond I just walked away to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Jude invited his family over for dinner as they are all in Madrid this week so it's my job to get everything and cook it all. I quite like cooking but it feels like Jude is expecting me to be able to do it all and now I don't really want to do it but I will for his family as they don't need to be involved in our fight. Jude tried to come and help me but only after everything was all done so I just walked straight past him to go and get ready as I'm still covered in flour and other things. He tried to follow me but I closed the bathroom door and locked it so he couldn't get in as I just didn't want to talk to him right now. What he said really hurt me because I don't like him implying I do nothing all day when he knows that's not true. He might want to apologise but knowing Jude it will just end up in us arguing more and when his family is coming over soon we can't be in the middle of a big fight. 

Once I got myself ready I couldn't find Jude so I just got on with finishing dinner until his family arrived and he suddenly appeared to let them in. I put on a smile as I greeted them all before heading back to the kitchen to plate up dinner for everyone I heard Denise ask Jude if I needed any help to which he said no even though he didn't ask and couldn't see that I was juggling three pans. I know for a fact that he knew I could hear him and was just trying to annoy me further and he managed just that the rage was building back up but I'm trying so hard to let it slide. Jude and I should really talk and not try and get to each other with these small digs but now isn't the time with his family here and as long as we don't kill each other we'll be fine. 

As soon as I started bringing out the first plates Denise got up and helped me which helped me feel better as she's just always the sweetest and I realised I don't want to hurt that relationship by arguing with Jude in front of her and the rest of his family. Like always Jude sat next to me at the table but he wouldn't look at me and he didn't have one of his hands on my thigh like he usually would. Every time we accidentally touched Jude would move further away from me and I had to try so hard not to cry at that because it made me wonder if this is the beginning of the end and if he really hates me now.

"Are you two ok?" Denise asked 

"We're fine it's just been a busy day" I lied 

"Are you sure?" Mark asked 

"Yeah bro why do you look so mad?" Jobe asked 

"Because my girlfriend is annoying" Jude said under his breath but everyone heard him 

That comment was it for me I couldn't hold in my feelings anymore and the tears started to fall so I got up from my seat without saying anything as I just needed to get out of there. I thought about leaving the house altogether but I didn't instead I went upstairs to my office space and locked myself in there. 

Jude's POV

"What was that all about son?" My dad asked me 

"Nothing" I mumbled back 

"Well it's not nothing if y/n has just run off crying and you don't say things like that about your girlfriend" my mum scolded me 

"We had a bit of a fight earlier it's nothing" I said 

"What exactly happened y/n isn't one to get overly emotional so I don't think she'd be crying over a small fight" my mum said 

"Y/n went to get everything for tonight but she didn't get ice cream as it wasn't on the list and she blamed me for not putting it on there even though I'm busy and she got mad when I said she's always home" I ranted 

"So you called her lazy pretty much" Jobe commented 

"No I didn't" I said 

"I really thought we raised you better son you didn't do your part and I'm sure y/n asked you and you've blamed her and then insulted her when in reality you don't know what she does when you're not here" my dad said 

"You should go and talk to her and apologise you might not think you've done much wrong but you've hurt her feelings and in a healthy relationship you should be able to realise that and apologise" my mum said 

"And y/n's a great girl you won't find someone else like her easily" Jobe said seriously 

"Take some time to think then go and talk to her we will leave you two to talk and please tell y/n that we haven't left because of her" my mum said 

True to her word they all got up and left leaving me sat at the dining table alone with my thoughts. I know they are right I've messed up not only is what I said not true and I know it but it hurt y/n way more than I meant for it to. I was mad and said something stupid which I've done before when we've argued because we aren't perfect we do argue but I've never made her cry. Knowing I'm the one that's made her cry made me feel awful seeing her cry over other things is always horrible but being the one to make her cry makes me feel like a horrible person. I have to apologise and I know that but I need to find the right words to say to make this better and not worse. 

Your POV

I sat not even in my desk chair I just sat on the floor leaning against the wall facing another wall with framed photos of me and my friends and family as well as some with Jude that were only put up a few days ago. I still love him there's no way I couldn't but what he said made me wonder what he thinks of me I thought he loved me too but maybe now we live together I'm just a burden to him. Maybe I just need to leave for a few days or a few weeks and get my life together so that I'm not so much of a bother or if that's really what Jude thinks maybe we just won't work out. That thought really hurts as we've been together for nearly 4 years now and for that to just go down the drain over what started as a stupid little argument would haunt me. Just as my thoughts were spiralling someone tried to open the door but as it was locked they couldn't get in. 

"Y/n please unlock the door so we can talk" Jude said through the door 

I did as he asked and unlocked the door from the floor and watched him as he came in and sat across from me on the floor. He tried to reach out and grab my hand but I pulled it away as I want to know he's not still mad or going to break up with me before I let him hold my hand. I couldn't read his expression which isn't normal usually I can read Jude like a book but his expression isn't one I've seen before and I don't know what it means. 

"I'm sorry I'm really sorry I shouldn't have said that you do nothing all day I know that's not true and I shouldn't have made that comment in front of my family that was completely unnecessary they left so we can talk but they wanted you to know they don't hate you and didn't leave because of you they just want us to be able to talk" he explained 

 "I'm sorry too I shouldn't have run off like that I just didn't want to cry in front of everyone and I couldn't stop myself from crying" I said 

"You don't need to be sorry this is my fault I should've listened to you and looked at the list and I shouldn't have got mad at you for not reading my mind and it was stupid of me to let my anger take over and say things I don't mean" he apologised 

"I'm trying I promise it's just things have been tough moving here away from all my family and friends hasn't been easy and the fact that I couldn't just come here and get a job hasn't helped either I feel useless so to hear you say I do nothing all day just hurts" I said 

"Oh babe I didn't realise you'd be struggling so much you know you can talk to me about anything and if it feels like too much you can tell me and I can try and help" he said 

"But you're never here I can't talk to you when you aren't here that's the problem I'm all alone and I have nothing to do I'm trying to find anything to keep me occupied I mean last week I got a ladder out and cleaned the windows I just need a purpose" I said 

"We can fix this why don't you come to my training sessions a few days a week that way you can get out the house and maybe I can ask the guys to get you in contact with their partners so you can start to make some friends and I'll help you all I can to get your course done so you can get a job well do this together I promise" He said 

"Thank you Jude that means a lot I should've told you how I felt before now but I just didn't want to be a burden you have a lot going on you didn't need more on your plate especially silly problems like me having no friends" I said 

"You will never be a burden and none of your problems are stupid but just remember I will always be a friend if you need me to be and so will my family so you are never alone" he said 

There was nothing more to say so I let myself move into Jude's embrace and he just held me whispering apologies in my ear until I kissed him to shut him up. He kissed me a couple times before picking me up and carrying me to our bedroom where he left me for a few minutes to go and get some of the brownies I made and they even had ice cream with them which he said he ordered before he came upstairs to talk to me. That little gesture albeit silly really made me smile as it shows he does listen to me and he does care about me. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[shhhsecretsideblog]

They had been trying for a baby for a while, when finally she was looking at a positive test. Unfortunately, there was only one time it could have happened. A bit too much to drink, a few confessions that she'd sometimes thought about her husbands best friend in some of her more intimate fantasies, and just like that his little secret had taken root in her belly.

She was excited to be a mom, but can't bring herself to tell her husband she's expecting. Hiding her bump as best she can, not letting herself be intimate with him in case he noticed her beautiful changing body, how firm and heavy her belly had gotten. She has a plan. Give birth in secret where he won't find out, and then claim someone left the baby there. "Probably some teenager or something, can't imagine how she could raise it." Of course, since they're struggling to have one of their own, it's all but a sign. Of course they should take it in.

A perfect little plan for the eager mom to get out of her bad choice concequence free.

At least, it would be, if her waters hadn't broken in the shower, and the contractions were starting to get worse and worse, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise and act like nothing was happening...

Extramarital Consequences

AN: I just wanted to write a short little rp drabble, but instead it comes out as a full scale 3k word fic. Thanks for the prompt MuchBirth, it was a great concept. Hope you like it. [fpreg, tw: vomit, tw: cheating]

“Are you alright in there, babe?” My husband's voice sounded through the bathroom door and I tried to swallow the groan that was sitting in my throat.

Why now, why today?! I had done so well concealing this pregnancy from everyone, thanks to the cold winter and the abundance of thick oversized jumpers and coats. And for the fact I was carrying a rather modest, if heavy, bump. Said bump had dropped in recent days and I had hoped the baby was merely getting prepared and wouldn’t be coming for another week when Daniel would be away on business. The baby, it seemed, had other ideas.

The contractions had started in the early hours and I laid beside my husband quietly breathing through each pain and praying it was just braxton hicks. But they just kept on coming. Every 40 minutes… every 30 minutes… and when they got down to 20 minutes apart I knew I had to move.

Hiding downstairs in the dark, I paced around our living room and kitchen as the contractions got closer together and more and more intense. Why couldn’t it have been a work day?! Daniel would leave the house early and I could labour and birth this baby in secret just as I’d planned. But it was Saturday and we were scheduled to go to a family event that afternoon. The heavy weight of the baby sitting low in my pelvis confirmed there was little-to-no chance of me making it to that party.

I paced around the downstairs of our town house until the early morning with its first glimpse of a rising sun filtering through the windows. Bracing myself against walls, tables, all manner of furniture, I spent hours swaying my hips through each agonising contraction that struck, praying they would eventually stop but they never did. I heard Daniel get out of bed and jump in the shower and I busied myself doing the dishes when he came downstairs. He looked at me curiously, seeing my sweaty and flushed face and asked if I was coming down with something. I assured him I was fine as he made his morning coffee, but soon had to twist back around to face the sink to hide the grimace on my face as another strong contraction barrelled its way through my womb. My hands gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip and it took everything I had not to whimper from the pain.

After assuring Daniel that I was alright, I disappeared quickly back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the tiled room echoing the loud noise of the powerful jets, and allowed myself to groan deeply through the next contraction. They were less than 15 minutes apart and had the ability to steal my breath away. Gripping the sink and panting heavily, my mind began to spiral and panic. How the fuck was I going to keep this from Daniel?! We were struggling to conceive, if his discovered this pregnancy there would be no way I could pass this baby off as his. He would find out I slept with his best friend and my dream of a suburban family life would be destroyed. The baby sank lower in my hips and my knees dipped into a semi-squat from the increase in pressure. We were supposed to go to a party later, with family and friends, and Daniel would be by my side all day. But this baby was coming, soon if the pressure between my legs was any indication.

I stepped into the shower, attempting to ease the pain knifing at my lower back. Cupping my protruding belly I whispered a plea to the baby to stay put a while longer. I loved my pregnant body and was sad not to have shared this experience, to marvel at the incredible changes of pregnancy, with my partner. But there was an alluring excitement in keeping the baby secret - something just known by them and me. I couldn’t wait to meet the life I had been growing.

My thoughts tempted fate and the next contraction was soon upon me and I doubled over in the shower bracing my knees. The pressure between my thighs was building, the steaming hot water doing very little to ease the pain as it crested, my belly turning to stone and pushing everything downward. “Mnghhhhhhh!!” I grunted, involuntary, and almost dropped into a squat as the urgency built. No… baby, not now.

The water at my feet turned a pinkish murky colour and I knew from the release of pressure that my waters had just broken. Fuck.

When the contraction faded and my legs stopped shaking I carefully stepped out of the shower. Okay… my water’s broken but that doesn’t mean I’ve run out of time. I just need to think of a way of getting Daniel out of the house. I could feel the baby shift and kick within my womb, protesting the situation as much as I was, its head pressing eagerly against my cervix. “Hoooo… it’ll be okay little one. I promise— mnnnnhhhh…” Every breath, every word, that slipped past my lips now laced with a pained groan.

“Are you alright in there, babe?” Daniel asked from the other side of our bathroom door. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed the involuntary noises from escaping.

“Nng— yeah— fine.” I somehow gritted. The weight and pressure pushing down in my pelvis was quickly making me nauseous.

“Are you sure? You weren’t looking too great downstairs.”

Damn him and his caring nature, just move away from the door before I scream! A contraction struck mere minutes after the last and I couldn’t stop the gasp as my belly visibly hardened and contorted inwards. The pressure was mounting, expanding like a balloon about to burst, my pelvis being shoved apart to make space for the large head that was pressing atop my cervix. I couldn’t breathe, the sensations overwhelming my senses, my stomach rolled and my throat gagged. I was going to be sick.

Dropping to my knees, naked on the floor, I hunched over the toilet bowl and promptly vomited the remnants of last night's dinner into the porcelain. My whole torso contracted in on itself in more ways than one and I completely lost all semblance of control. My taut belly, hardened by labour pains, convulsed and I heaved and coughed loudly. The force of throwing up also resulted in my womb squeezing against the bowling ball in my pelvis, bearing down on the already low head and pushing it into the birth canal.

“Oh sweetheart, are you sick?” Daniel asked through the door. “Let me in honey.”

“No, just— give me a minute…” I gruffed, laying my head in the crook of my elbow.

“We don’t have to go today if you’re not well. I can stay here and look after you.”

Hell no, that is the last thing I need. I asked him to get me some water from the kitchen, to buy me some precious time to gather myself. When the sickness passed I hesitantly put a hand between my legs… the baby so low it felt like it was about to fall out at any minute. I had pushed. I didn’t mean to, it was automatic. But still my body had pushed the baby lower towards its exit. Thankfully it was not as low as it felt as I couldn’t feel a head, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Wrapping myself in a fluffy dressing gown and schooling as neutral a face as I could, I unlocked the door and greeted my husband as he brought me the requested water.

“I don’t think I’m going to go today, I feel like shit.” I said honestly, taking a sip and slowly walking towards our bed, careful not to waddle from the massive head lodged in my pelvis.

“It’s okay babes, we can cancel. I’ll call your parents.” Daniel offered, helping me to sit.

“No—” I said a little too quickly. “You- you can still go. I’ll just take it easy and s-sleep it off…” He looked at me curiously, trying to ascertain just how unwell I was and if I could be left alone. “Really,” I pleaded, “I’ll be fine. Go, have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Really—mmhh…” My hands clenched tight as another contraction was beginning to appear, my fingernails burrowing deep into my palms. “W-why don’t you go e-early… see if they need h-help setting up.” My stomach tensed beneath my fluffy dressing gown and I shifted subtly on the bed as an immeasurable pressure returned with the pain. This baby was not waiting until the afternoon for Daniel to leave for the party, I desperately needed him to go now.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Daniel joked, tucking a frazzled lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to stay and look after you darling, make sure you’re okay.”

“Mnnn… I just need to lie down…” I huffed, trying to keep the strain from my voice. My body was itching to move, to sway and move my hips, to open up for the emerging baby as the contractions worked hard to deliver the child. But I had to fight against the instincts, ignore all the cues in the recess of my brain. Slumping sideways down on the bed, I curled over my contracting belly and arduously moved to lie under the covers. My skin was radiating heat but I couldn’t remove my dressing gown, couldn’t risk exposing a glimpse of my pregnant body. Had to stay covered, had to hide this baby, had to stay sweating beneath the fluffy gown and duvet covers.

Daniel stroked my hair as I curled up and I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyes through the pain barrelling between my hips. Oh baby, wait a bit more… please.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright hun?” Daniel questioned once more and I managed to gruff out an assurance, stating that I’d be fine and just needed to be alone.

Thankfully I felt the bed shift, my husband getting up and leaving the room saying something about calling the family and giving me space to rest. I sighed in relief at the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Lying on my side helped the constant stabbing pain in my lower back but it was doing nothing to prevent the baby from making its way further down. I could feel it pressing against every nerve from the inside, pushing its way through the narrow space. I tried to squeeze my thighs, to clench everything I could to stop its movements but nothing worked. The pressure was constant, sitting heavily and urgently at the apex of my thighs. Rolling forward I buried my face deep in the pillow to muffle the rattled groan that came from the pit of my stomach. The baby was right there, its imminent arrival clear by the agonising pressure consuming me. I tried to fight it, meeting every wave with defiance, but my attempts were failing. I needed to push.

Before I was even aware of what was happening my whole body tensed and bore down with the peak of the contraction. It felt…satisfying, to give in to the urge and push alongside the tensing muscles, to work with my body instead of against it. Gasping a ragged breath, I pushed again, more forcefully this time. It was moving, inching closer towards my folds. Without thinking I grabbed my leg, still wrapped under the layers of clothing and duvet, and I pulled it towards me so my thigh was beside my contracting belly. I had to make more room, I needed to open myself up for the emerging babe. The back of my knee was damp from sweat and I gripped it tight, opening my hip beneath the covers, and gritting my teeth I pushed again.

It was coming, I could feel it! The contraction soon ended and I let my leg fall back against the other, curled up sideways on the bed and panting frantic breaths. A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my birthing bubble, suddenly remembering Daniel was still in the house. Oh fuck, what if he heard me pushing?!

“Honey..? Can I come in?” His tentative voice asked and opened the door a crack. I groaned, neither an acceptance or refusal, but it was all I could manage.

Daniel stepped in our bedroom softly. “I’ve spoken with your parents and I’m going to head over there early and help them set up. I know you like to be alone when you’re unwell.” I nearly cried with relief.

“But I’ll come back to check on you before the party starts, okay?” Daniel perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers through my sweaty hair. I nodded and exhaled heavily, hoping it looked like I was just fighting nausea and nothing more. “I’ll get you a bucket, just in case.” Daniel said sweetly and disappeared into our en-suite bathroom.

The contractions were right on top of each other now, the baby was sitting right between my legs desperate to get out. The next wave hit when Daniel was out of sight and I panted as quietly as I could. Don’t push… don’t push… don’t push… I thought over and over again. Curled up on my side my legs drifted apart, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight down the length of the bed. The pressure was slowly killing me; the strain of holding everything in, the baby slipping lower, pressing gently against my labia despite my efforts. Fuck I needed to push, but I daren’t. Daniel was still here…. Breathe… don’t push… breathe… don’t push… Even with the mantra my body did not adhere to the instructions. At the end of each measured breath I could feel my muscles bearing down and pushing the baby, its head starting to part my sensitive lips.

Daniel came back into the room and placed a bucket beside the bed, right next to the pillow where my face was half buried. “How you holding up?” He asked affectionately. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, every ounce of strength going into not actively pushing. Instead I closed my eyes and tilted my face further into the pillow.

In the faint background of my personal hell I could hear my husband slowly pottering around our bedroom as he got himself dressed and ready to leave for the party. Every minute dragged on for hours, as he found his trousers and shirt, muttering to himself, all the while I wanted to scream and howl and push! The baby was parting my folds, its head surely poking out between my thighs. Tears dampened the pillow and I was trembling, trying desperately hard not to push. But even without my participation, the baby was slowly making its way into the world. I nervously lowered one of my hands beneath the heavy covers, feeling between my legs. Oh my gosh… that’s my baby I thought as I felt the slimy surface of the partial sliver of its head. It was moving down, every contraction squeezing it further out of my body. My palm clamped hard over the emerging head… don’t… don’t pushhhhhh… a weak groan rumbled my throat as my body uncontrollably pushed, hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked.

I was far from okay, I was pushing his best friend's baby into my own palm for fucks sake. In between pushes, I gulped a breath and offered a short and snappy “uh-huh” before my body was forced to bear down once more. My hand remained steadfast in its position between my legs and thankfully the baby didn’t slip out any further. Once the contraction eased I panted a relieved sigh.

“I’m heading out now babes.” Daniel stated aloud. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I love you.”

“Ngghh— love you too—” my rasped voice came from under the covers. I was in too much pain to notice the guilt that twisted in my chest.

I remained frozen in the bed, my ears listening desperately for the sound of the front door to close and his car to start. The roar of the engine, the glorious sound, slipped through the vents in the bedroom window and I sobbed with relief. He was gone!!

Immediately I threw the covers off my sweaty skin and tore myself out the tangled mess of my dressing gown. The baby was partially crowning and my gods I needed to push. Everything hurt, everything ached, I needed to move but there was no strength left in my body to get up. Hooking a leg over the edge of the mattress I rolled off the bed and slipped down to my knees on the luscious carpet.

With my elbows on the mattress and my face buried against the sheets, my knees widened on the floor and my hips sank downwards as I pushed with everything that I had. Burning fiery pressure erupted between my thighs and I growled through the excruciating pain, pushing and pushing and pushing. I couldn’t take it anymore, this baby had to get out. My entire body trembled as the baby stretched me open, but I kept going push after push and with a primal grunt the head finally slipped out. Relief flooded through me as the pressure eased. Panting, desperate for air, I was barely aware of any of my other senses; of the now-damp carpet under my knees, or the sound of the engine returning to our driveway, or the creek of the bedroom door being opened.

“Honey?… I errr… I forgot my phone and then I heard you scream. What’s… what’s going on?” Daniel asked, frozen in shock at the door.

“…um… I erm…” I stuttered, speechless and naked beside the bed, an illegitimate baby hanging between my legs. “I umm…I— I— ohhhh… oh I need to push….!!!” Before I could think of an explanation my body was bearing down once more, birthing my husband’s best friend’s baby right beside our marital bed.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

[raysrays]

Crimson Guardian Part2 NSFW

Please check out Part One

Kyojuro Rengoku x Wife! Reader

18+ MDNI!🚫

CW: NSFW Content, minor angst, controlling/manipulating behavior, fluff-ish.

Y/N POV

Scenario: Once you agree to Kyojuro's request, you gather with Kagaya and the other Hashira to share your decision to retire early. But as you spend time with Kyojuro, you start noticing some changes in his behavior. You can't help but wonder, did you make a big mistake? He's your husband, after all. Surely, he wouldn't try to control or manipulate you. Maybe he's just worried about your safety and wants the best for you, right?

- Two Endings

A month had passed since I laid down my sword for the last time. I've spent my time at the Rengoku Estate as I had anticipated, assisting Senjuro with chores and cooking, while striving to earn Shinjuro's favor.

However, it all felt sluggish my days stretched out, feeling so unproductive.

Kyojuro was called on a mission far away, and he's been gone for almost two weeks now. I find myself overcome with loneliness, feeling hollow inside.

When I wasn't busy helping Senjuro, I often took walks and started getting into reading, though lately, I've found myself drawn to books on swordsmanship and battle techniques. It might seem pointless now, but it's all I have to occupy my mind.

Many times, I caught myself pacing around the estate, practicing fighting stances or swinging an imaginary sword, earning some strange looks from anyone nearby.

But I couldn't bring myself to share any of this with Kyojuro. I wanted him to believe I had moved on from being a demon slayer. Instead, I painted a picture of focusing on myself and preparing for the prospect of starting a family.

I've been writing to him almost every day since he left, keeping him updated on what's been happening back home and just checking in on him.

He says his mission has been successful so far, and he should be home very soon, which is good news. It's difficult to fully embrace retirement when the person you did it for isn't even here to enjoy it with you.

.

.

Today has been particularly slow. All I've done is help water the plants outside and dive deeper into my books. Shinjuro has been in his room, drinking, while Senjuro has been practicing his writing inside. And here I am, sitting under this same tree, reading the same book on breathing techniques for the past three hours...

However, my entire mood shifted the moment I heard the cawing of a crow announcing Kyojuro's return from his mission. He was finally home.

I could feel the excitement as I watched him walk through the gates of the estate, his big, bright eyes and fiery hair a welcome sight.

It didn't take long for him to spot me, as he quickly ran up and grabbed me, spinning me around in his arms.

"I've missed you so much, my little flame!" His booming voice was a comforting sound to hear in this moment.

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as he held me.

"I missed you so much, Kyo." It didn't take long for that hollow feeling I had earlier to finally disappear.

After he finally put me down, he pulled away to get a better look at me, scanning me up and down with his usual happy smile.

"You look so beautiful, my dear. Retirement seems to be treating you well already!"

"Oh, do you really think so?"

"Of course, sunflower. It's good to finally see you dressed casually and enjoying yourself at home. One of the main reasons my mission was such a success was because I wasn't worried about you. I knew you would be here waiting for me when I returned. I knew you would be safe."

I almost felt guilty. Since he left, I've been so bored out of my mind, stuck here at the estate, but if it’s really helping by keeping his mind at ease while he’s away I guess I don’t mind.

"How are you doing, my love? I know writing in letters can only reveal so much. Are you really okay?"

His voice softened, and his smile grew gentler. My heart raced at the sound. No matter how much time passed, I was still as in love and attracted to Kyojuro as I was the first time we met.

"Yes, I'm doing great. Senjuro and I have been quite productive lately. We even discussed setting up a small vegetable garden in the yard to reduce our trips to the village market." I forced a happy smile onto my face.

"That's wonderful news! I'm so happy you're finally making this old place your own." He then pulled me into another hug, burying me in his chest.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth—that I was bored and missed the core and all my comrades and friends. They had all become so busy with work that I went from seeing them every day to never at all, so quickly.

As I relaxed into his embrace, I felt his body tense slightly. He pulled away from me slowly, his expression puzzled.

"Sunflower... what is it you're reading?"

I glanced behind me to see my book still lying on the ground, its cover exposed. It was just a book, surely not that significant.

"Oh, that's just an old breathing technique book I found in the study room. I thought it looked the most interesting out of the available options."

He looked at me for a moment, then took my hands in his, holding them tightly.

"My love, if you had told me you wanted to read, I would have gladly bought you as many books as you wanted. You don't need to waste your time sitting and reading about attacks and breathing techniques anymore." His voice was filled with concern.

Little did he know, I chose this book specifically to occupy my mind. If I couldn't fight anymore, the least I could do was read about it.

"That's sweet of you, Kyo, but honestly, I don't mind."

His smile returned somewhat, and he moved his hands to hold my shoulders, gently leading me back to the main part of the estate.

"Let's get you inside, my love. I'll tell you all about my mission!"

I allowed him to guide me back, passing Senjuro on the way.

"Go ahead, little flame. I need to have a word with Senjuro."

I observe as he starts walking toward his younger brother; they engage in conversation, and I begin to make my way indoors.

Despite my initial intention to leave, a strange hesitation washes over me. I linger by the doorframe, eavesdropping on their discussion.

Senjuro's voice reaches me first. "Welcome home, brother. How was your mission?"

"It went smoothly. I'm relieved to be back," he responds, pausing briefly.

"Senjuro, how's Y/N? Have you noticed anything unusual about her lately?" My ears perk up at the mention of my name.

"Y/N? She seems fine, I suppose. She's been quite helpful with chores around here," Senjuro replies.

"I see. Have you noticed her reading more?" he probes further.

"I think so. Though I'm not sure what she's been reading," Senjuro admits.

"I see. Please, keep an eye on her for me, Senjuro. I'm concerned," Kyojuro says, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Concerned about her reading?" Senjuro's confusion is evident.

"No, just in general."

With that, I turned away from the door, deciding it was best to stop listening in.

Why would Kyojuro worry about me? I'm safe at home, just like he wanted. Wasn't that the whole point of being here? To ease his mind?

I can feel a mix of frustration brewing inside me, and I'm not sure if it's aimed at Kyojuro or myself. I've always prided myself on my swordsmanship, setting high goals and pushing myself hard to protect others and find purpose.

But now, I can't even enjoy reading a book about what I love without making my husband worry.

I step into the kitchen, ready to get a head start on preparing dinner. Gathering the cooking utensils and spices, I realize all that's left is to chop some of the vegetables.

As I rinse them off, I notice we're short on a few key ingredients.

My garden plans with Senjuro would have been perfect right now. Looks like I'll have to make another trip to the market.

Letting out a small sigh, I tidy up and head towards the door to slip on my shoes. Honestly, I could use some fresh air. I feel guilty leaving knowing Kyojuro just got here, but I think he’d much rather dinner be super good than complain about me stepping out.

I had a stranger Lingering feeling. There's something about his smile that feels off, like there's a hidden pressure behind it. Why?

As I'm slipping on my shoes, I sense someone standing over me.

"Where are you off to, sunflower?" Kyojuro inquires.

"Just getting a head start on dinner and realized we're missing a few things. I was about to run to the market," I reply.

"Hurry back to me, my love. You know I don't like it when you're away." His warm smile could melt anyone's heart.

He plants a kiss on my cheek before heading back into the other room.

As much as I adore him and miss him, I need just a moment alone to think right now.

As I make my way to the village, I pick up some vegetables, meat, and a few other things we need for the estate. On my way back, I spot Tengen and his wives. They seem to notice me too, especially Makio, who starts waving enthusiastically in my direction.

I walk over to them, feeling happy to finally see some familiar faces. It feels like it's been ages since we last caught up.

“Y/N, it's good to see you," Tengen greets warmly.

“How have you been? We haven’t seen you in forever!” Makio cries out excitedly.

"I've been well, how are all of you?"

"We've been doing just great," he responds.

"How's, uh, retirement?" Hina asks with a half smile.

"Oh, retirement has been... great," I reply, attempting to sound convincing, though I'm not entirely sure I believe it myself.

Tengen lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Sorry, but it's just so hard to believe. You had one of the flashiest breathing styles and trained almost every day, only to retire before becoming a Hashira. I just always thought you were too stubborn to quit so early.”

Hina shoots him a quick glare.

But it's all true; Tengen and his wives have been around since before the beginning of my and Kyojuro’s relationship, training with us, going on missions, and even just hanging out together casually.

They exchange silent glances for a moment and I notice Tengen’s expression change into a more serious one.

"Y/N, Kyojuro is one of my closest friends, and it's really not my place, but... do you think maybe you decided all that just a tad too quickly?" Tengen sounds more sincere this time.

"I mean, you were on your way to becoming a Hashira yourself," Suma adds.

Taking a deep breath, I realize they're right, but I already knew that. I wasn’t the one they should be lecturing in this scenario. I never wanted to retire; I just wanted to make Kyojuro happy.

"I promise. This is a decision I've made. I want to settle down and start a family with Kyo. I wouldn’t want to risk going out on a mission and dying before having that opportunity," I assert.

Though they still seem unconvinced, Tengen puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Kyojuro's a lucky man to have someone who cares about him so much. However, I think you should stay in tune with your training for now.”

“You are still so young, Y/N! It’s always possible that once you have children, you could potentially want to come out of retirement. Maybe be a trainer for young slayers!” Makio adds with a hopeful tone.

Suddenly, my spirits lift. They were right. Just because I retire now doesn’t mean I can’t come out of retirement in a few years. As long as I keep training at home, I should be fine!

“I suppose you are all right. I will definitely keep training. I’m sure Kyo will think that’s a great idea.”

“That’s the spirit. I’m glad we got to run into you,” Tengen says with his usual smile.

“I’m glad I got to see all of you. I promise I’ll try to make an effort to come around more.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hina exclaimed.

After we exchange our goodbyes, I watch them walk off together, smiling and talking.

A wave of realization and relief washes over me. Maybe retirement didn’t have to be as bad as I was making it out to be.

.

.

Upon finally arriving back at the estate, I walked up to the entrance with a smile on my face.

I recalled there was a book in the study that taught some solo hand-to-hand combat techniques, perfect for practicing alone. I made a mental note to pick it up once I returned and start reading it after dinner.

As I entered, Senjuro greeted me with a warm smile.

“Welcome back, Y/N. I’ll finish up dinner since you went out of your way to get everything,” he offered kindly.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that. I don’t mind,” I replied.

“I insist. You haven’t seen my brother for a while now, and I think he could use your company,” he chuckled nervously.

I hesitated for a second.

“Okay, only if you're sure,” I said, handing over the basket of food and supplies I had bought from the market.

He headed off to the kitchen, leaving me in the entryway, so I decided to make my way to our bedroom, shared by Kyojuro and me.

As I entered, I noticed he had changed out of his uniform into his more casual attire.

He looked at me with a kind smile on his face.

“I see you made it back safely,” he said, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

He buried his face into the side of my neck, kissing it softly.

I felt myself shiver at his touch. He seemed so gentle and loving right now. I had truly missed him so much these past few weeks.

I gently ran my fingers through his fiery hair as I spoke, "I ran into Tengen and his wives at the market."

He pulled away slightly to look at me, his arms still wrapped around my waist.

"Really? Were they happy to see you?" he asked with a big smile.

"Yes, they were. We hadn't realized it had been so long since we all saw each other."

Kyojuro appeared to be deep in thought. "I suppose you're right. It has been a while since all of us got together. I should arrange for us to have dinner sometime!" he exclaimed happily.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I think that would be lovely."

"What else did you all talk about? You were gone for quite some time," he inquired.

I debated telling him about their suggestion that I should consider keeping up with training and possibly coming out of retirement, but ultimately decided against it.

"Tengen was just telling me about a mission he had gone on recently. Nothing too crazy," I replied.

Kyojuro seemed satisfied with this answer. Why would I lie? I've never had any reason to lie to him before.

"That's great, sunflower. I'm happy you finally got to see some company. You seem so happy!" he remarked, his affection evident in his tone.

We lingered in each other's embrace for a few more moments until Senjuro's voice rang out, announcing that dinner was ready.

Hand in hand, we made our way to the table. Upon arrival, we found Senjuro had already set the table and prepared everything. Surprisingly, Shinjuro was already seated, wearing his usual drunken scowl, but he remained mostly silent.

As we ate, Kyojuro attempted to share details about his recent mission with his father, but received only silence and grunts in response. Despite years of trying, it seemed Kyojuro still sought his father's approval.

It felt kind of pointless to expect anything from Shinjuro. Even though I ended up spending more time with him than with Kyojuro lately, I just kept my distance. Honestly, I think he might even appreciate it.

After a few minutes of listening to Kyojuro, Shinjuro got up and was the first to leave the table, retreating to his room.

Though Kyojuro seemed disappointed, he maintained his neutral smile as he also began to wrap up his meal.

Once we had all finished eating, I stood up to collect the dishes for washing and putting away. However, Senjuro insisted on taking care of everything himself.

Feeling a bit defeated, I abandoned the task and decided to head to the study to grab that training book.

However, upon arrival, I was met with an unsettling sight. All the books were gone, every shelf completely empty...

As I made my way back to my room, confusion swirled within me like never before.

Upon entering, I found Kyojuro already preparing for sleep. His eyes brightened at the sight of me, and he gestured for me to join him under the covers of the futon.

Crawling in beside him, he enveloped me in his arms, pulling me close. With my head against his chest, I felt a sense of comfort wash over me.

"Kyojuro," I speak up.

"What is it, little flame?" He asks planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"What happened to all the books in the study?"

I sense a slight tension in his body at the question.

"I'm not sure, my love. Perhaps father had them moved. I'll make sure to get you some new books soon," he reassures me.

I stay silent, convinced by his explanation. What other reason could there be? Surely, Kyojuro doesn't attach much importance to old books collecting dust for years.

As I lay nestled in Kyo's arms, I feel the weight of exhaustion settling in. His breathing slows, It won't be long before sleep overtakes us both.

.

.

A week had passed, and the books still hadn't reappeared. I'd given up on getting a response out of Shinjuro. And it seemed that Senjuro wasn't even aware of their disappearance, which was even stranger.

So here I was again, under the same tree, rereading the same book for the third time.

Despite this, it was a beautiful day. The sky was bright and the air was refreshing. It would have been a shame not to enjoy it.

With Kyojuro gone early this morning for a hashira meeting, it's just me now, left to ponder my thoughts. I can't help but recall what Tengen and his wives said about keeping up with training.

Honestly, with my doting husband always around, their advice slipped my mind. But now, with some time to myself, I figure it's a good opportunity to get some practice in.

I don't have the exact combat training books I'd like, but I'll make do with what I remember from my days in the core.

Grabbing a wooden sword that Kyojuro and Senjuro sometimes use.

My target? A nearby tree. I start off slow, practicing basic strikes and focusing on my footwork. It's a few hours of intense concentration, but it feels amazing. I didn't realize how much I missed this, the feeling of swinging a sword, the rush of adrenaline with each move. It's like finding a piece of myself I forgot was missing.

My excitement fades as I notice a looming shadow, revealing Kyojuro standing there. Still in his uniform, he must have just returned from the meeting. His expression is stern, arms crossed in clear disapproval.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" His voice is cold, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I was just... training a bit," I reply nervously.

"Training? Training for what?" He begins to approach me, his demeanor serious.

For some reason, I instinctively start to back up as he approaches me. Before I know it, my back is against the tree I was just practicing on.

He closes the distance between us, his face inches from mine. This side of Kyojuro is unfamiliar to me; he appears downright angry.

"Why are you doing this, sunflower? You're inactive in the core, retired. There's absolutely no reason for you to pick up a sword and train again," his voice is harsh.

"I just thought that maybe if I stayed in shape and continued training a bit, perhaps in the future I could come out of retirement. Maybe even help train new slayers coming out of final selection," I suggest.

- Ending One (Positive fluff)

He gazes at me, his expression filled with confusion. “Sunflower, why would you want that? I thought the whole point of you wanting to retire was to be at home with me, to start a family together.”

Taking a deep breath, I realize I need to be honest and ip front with him now. Kyojuro is my husband, and if he truly loves me, he'll understand.

Slowly, I reach out and take his hand, bringing it up to rest against my chest.

“Kyojuro, I love you more than anything, and I want to start a family and be with you more than anything. But I also have to pursue the things that make me happy. Fighting alongside you and our friends has always been one of those things,” I explain, hoping he'll see my perspective.

His eyes soften, and I can tell he feels guilty for not considering my happiness more deeply.

"I'm still scared, Y/N. I'm scared of losing the love of my life, my wife. If you continue being a demon slayer, there will be times when I won't be able to protect you. Times when you'll be in situations where you'll have to fight to the death to defend yourself," he admits, his voice filled with worry.

He's right. There will be moments when I'll have to risk my life for the sake of others. But that's exactly why I signed up for this. That's what I want to do, with him by my side.

Gently, I lift his hand to my lips and place a kiss on his knuckles, mirroring the affection he always shows me.

"I'll fight until my last breath for a life without demons, so that hopefully someday us and our children can live the life we deserve," I declare softly.

He removes his hand from mine placing is on my cheek. His gaze loving and caring now.

“You never cease to set my heart ablaze little flame. You always make me remember that powerful spirit I fell in love with. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for being so selfish.”

It makes me feel better that he also acknowledges how he’s been acting lately. It makes me feel more validated that I wasn’t completely going crazy. And still I forgive him.

I know Kyojuro’s heart, I know how pure and kind it is, and I know he would never do anything to harm me or keep me alway from something I’m so passionate about.

He pulls me into his embrace wrapping his arms protectively around me.

“I want you to be happy my love, it was wrong of me to try and control someone as amazing as you. I will do everything I can to support and protect you. Wether it’s here at home, or out on the battle field.”

His words melt my heart.

He removes his hand from mine, placing it gently on my cheek. His gaze softens, filled with love and care.

"You never fail to ignite my heart, little flame. You always remind me of the powerful spirit I fell in love with. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for being so selfish," he confesses.

His acknowledgment of his recent behavior brings me some comfort. It validates my feelings and assures me that I'm not imagining things. And yet, I find it in my heart to forgive him.

I know Kyojuro's heart, its purity and kindness. I trust that he would never intentionally harm me or stand in the way of my passions.

Pulling me into his embrace, he wraps his arms protectively around me.

"I want nothing more than your happiness, my love. It was wrong of me to try to control someone as incredible as you. I'll do everything in my power to support and protect you, whether it's here at home or out on the battlefield," he promises.

This was the man I fell in love with, the man I vowed to spend my dying days with. I’m certain that I made the right decision.

.

.

.

- Ending Two (Angsty Smut)

He shakes his head. "No. No way. If you're going to stay retired, then you need to stay retired. That was the deal. I won't risk losing you. You're far too precious to me." His tone is softer now, but still firm.

"But why can't I just practice for a bit?"

"Because this isn't what you want. You don't actually want this. It's not your passion. This is only because of your past life." He's more serious than ever.

"What's so wrong with me wanting to stay sharp?"

"You're supposed to be focusing on your future and your new life with me! And you can't do that if you keep holding onto your past. It's not a part of who you are anymore."

His words strike me. Was it so bad that I wanted to practice and maybe eventually come back?

"This is the last thing we're going to discuss. As a Hashira, I have the authority to confiscate your weapon, so hand it over. From this point forward, I will not tolerate you engaging in anything remotely related to demon slaying."

I reluctantly hand over my wooden sword. My heart drops, and tears begin to well up in my eyes.

"Y/N. I'm sorry, my love, but this is for the best. It's only because I love you." His voice softens, his expression more forgiving.

I'm filled with anger. Why is he acting like this? Why doesn't he want to fight alongside me anymore? Balancing our relationship and our profession is tough, but plenty of people make it work.

Why does he seem to think it's impossible for me to fight? I am strong. I've always been strong.

His thumb brushes away a tear from my eye as I lift my head to look at him.

This time, his expression changes.

He leans in close to my ear and whispers, "If you won't listen to me, I'll just have to give you a reason to stay off your feet."

A shiver runs down my spine as his lips meet mine, his hands holding my hips firmly in place.

Before I know it, he's lifting me over his shoulder and carrying me back into the estate.

“Kyo, put me down! Let's just talk!” I protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He takes me to our bedroom and pins me down on the futon.

“There’s nothing more to say, sunflower. If I can't keep you from fighting anymore, maybe having a child will,” he says, his voice tinged with desire.

I open my mouth to speak, but his lips on mine cut me off. His tongue pushes its way inside, making its way around my mouth.

I try to pull away, but his hands hold my head in place, and the taste of his mouth is overwhelming.

When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless.

He leans in, kissing and biting at my neck. His hands move down my body, grabbing and squeezing my breasts and my waist.

I let out a small whimper as he sucks and bites at my skin.

Suddenly, I feel his fingers brush against my entrance through my clothes.

He pulls away to look at me. "Already so wet for me, and we've barely done anything. Were you doing all of this to make me angry on purpose?”

My face burns with embarrassment, but I can't help but crave his touch.

He grabs my hands and pins them above my head, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile.

"You want this, don't you, sunflower?" He asks as his free hand caresses my face.

I nod desperately, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then beg for it," he commands, his loving voice contested his actions.

"Please, Kyo, please I need it. I need you."

He releases his grip on my wrists and moves to undo his pants.

"There’s my little flame."

He lines himself up with my entrance, slowly pushing himself inside.

I try not to tense, feeling my walls stretch to accommodate him.

He lets out a low groan, his warm breath tickling my ear.

He waits for a moment before beginning to thrust into me, each movement deeper than the last.

I gasp and moan beneath him, gripping his shoulders.

He lets out a groan as he bottoms out.

"Mine," he whispers before placing a kiss on my forehead.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He begins to move again, thrusting harder and faster. I'm filled with so much pleasure that I'm seeing stars.

I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, but just before I can finish, he stops.

"Kyo, please, I need it." I whine.

"Not yet, my love.” he replies, his voice heavy with lust.

He pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty and unsatisfied.

He flips me over and pushes my head into the pillow, my ass now in the air.

"Don't worry, little flame, I'm not finished with you just yet."

He enters me again, gripping my hips tightly as he pounds into me from behind.

"I can't wait to have you pregnant. You're going to look so beautiful."

He reaches a hand around to rub my clit, bringing me even closer to my peak.

I try to hold back my moans and he touches me. His words only make me feel hotter.

I can feel myself getting closer once again, and he seems to notice as well.

"Do you want to finish, my love?"

"Yes, yes please," I beg.

He increases the speed of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots inside of me.

I can feel myself approaching the edge again, and he continues to push me towards it.

"I'm going to fill you up, my love. Make you mine.”

His thrusts grow more erratic as he reaches his peak, releasing deep inside of me.

I collapse onto the futon , completely exhausted.

Kyojuro rolls off me and lays beside me, pulling me into his chest. I cuddled into him.

"We're going to be so happy, Y/N. Just you, me, and our child. Everything is going to be perfect," he reassures me, running his fingers through my hair.

I'm too tired to respond, so I just listen to the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing.

"I love you, sunflower. No matter what, you're mine.”

Sorry this one took me so long to get out, I hope you all enjoyed it! I’d love to hear your feedback!

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[readsaboutreid]

Detangling | S.R. imagine

this is just gonna be a short little imagine because i can't bring myself to write anything more right now and i could imagine spencer being the absolute best partner about a situation like this

You walk into the door and Spencer follows behind you. You hadn't spent as much time at your apartment since you and Spencer started getting serious, but your place was closer to the theater he had taken you to for a showing of a documentary on your favorite subject he had surprised you with tickets to go see.

After about 45 minutes of watching Star Trek on the couch together he asks you a question you'd been hoping he'd avoid asking. "It's really warm in here, love," he mentions, "why don't you take off that beanie?"

"I-I'm cold," you mutter, not meeting his eyes.

"You're flushed and sweating," he reasons, stroking a finger down your cheek before putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel feverish. Is there another reason you're wearing the hat?" He asked with a knowing look in his eyes before you break down crying. "Wait no, please don't cry, I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to upset—" his panic is cut off by your sigh.

"It's okay, Spencer," you exhale shakily. "I'm just—I, uh, I've been feeling a little bit down recently and my hair is kind of a depression rats' nest." Your cheeks heat with embarrassment but you finally meet his eyes, which soften with understanding at your confession. "I've been hiding it with the hat until I can just go to a hairdresser and probably just have them cut it all off. It's what my mom used to make me do if I let my hair get this bad and it's kind of just the easiest way to make myself presentable again."

Spencer wraps you into a tight hug on the couch next to you. "What, uh, what if I were to help you so you don't have to cut it all off?" he asked softly, before hastily adding on, "unless that's what you want to do."

Next thing you know you're going into your bathroom and returning with a hairbrush and sitting down on the ground in front of him.

"I'm sorry about this, Spencer," you mumble as you wait on the ground in front of the couch, between his open legs. More tears prick your eyes from embarrassment and your lip trembles. "You shouldn't have to take time out of your day to take care of me like this."

"Hush, I won't hear any of that nonsense." Spencer chides from above you as he grabs the hairbrush you had approached him with. "I like taking care of you, and that's why I offered do this."

"But I—I'm an adult," the tears that welling in your eyes start to fall down your cheeks and your voice breaks as you pull your knees up to your chest. "I should be capable of taking care of myself by now!"

You hear Spencer sigh above you before you feel him shift around on the couch. He stands and walks around where you're seated until he's on his knees in front of you. He gently pulls your hands from your face, kissing each one of the palm softly and then holding them in his own. In his eyes you can see none of the shame or disgust you're expecting to see. Instead his eyes are filled with love, understanding, and concern.

He's quiet for a moment before reaching out to wipe your tears away gently. "Did you know that there are approximately 280 million people worldwide who suffer from depressive disorder? That doesn't even factor in those who suffer from depression as a symptom of an underlying physical or other mental illness." He leans in and kisses both of your cheeks. "I know there's no magic thing I can say to make you feel better, but just know that there's no shame in struggling. Or asking for help from those who love you."

"O-okay," you stammer as you look at him again before he stands and moves back to his spot on the couch. He slowly begins working his way through the tangles, holding your hair and pulling the brush through until eventually your hair is fully detangled and in need of a wash. "Th-thank you, Spencer."

He pulls you up and kisses your forehead before wrapping you into another tight embrace. "Never be afraid to ask for help when you need me, sweetheart," he whispers.

[zigrethsnotebook]

How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?

Ford x Reader

words: 3,154

tags: sfw, hurt and comfort

a/n: this was the only note i made for myself before writing this: hnghnghng this is about moths now so yeah... enjoy:)

It's been a whole year. The twins are back from their sea adventure and the kids are staying with them for the summer again. You were on your way over to the shack. Stan had written you a letter, inviting you over. He said it'd be nice to catch up, tell you and the kids all about their time at sea and that way they wouldn't have to tell the stories twice.

The stories weren't the only thing you were excited for. Before they had left Stan had encouraged you to confess to Ford, insisting that his brother felt the same for you as you did for him. But when you told him he just went silent for way too long.

"Ford?" A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Please say something?" He looked into your eyes, his gaze blank and unreadable. "I'm sorry." The words felt like a dagger to your heart. "F-for what?" You at least wanted him to have the balls to say that he doesn't care for you. "I don't see a romantic relationship between us having a future. Especially with Stan and I going out to sea tomorrow. I'm sorry."

You just nodded, taking the words in. "...This didn’t ruin what we have, did it? Will we still be friends when you get back?" Your voice was small, afraid of his answer. "I'll always be your friend." A sigh of relief. The idea of him not being a part of your life had been the reason you didn’t want to confess to him in the first place. You only did it because Stan was so convincing that he reciprocated your feelings. Turns out you were both wrong.

You shook your head, breaking yourself out of the bad memory. After almost an entire year, you had come to terms with it. Now, you were just excited to see your friend again. Excited to have a normal conversation with him again.

Back in the shack the Family was preparing everything. The kids and Soos got the snacks and drinks ready while the Twins were busy starting the campfire. Stan watched as Ford poked around in the fire. He shook his head.

"I'll never understand it." Ford looked up at his brother. "I'll never understand how someone as smart as you could let go of the person who would have been the best thing in his life." Ford sighed. They had had this talk before.

It was pretty much the only thing they talked about the first week at sea. Stan would also bring it up anytime a night on the boat was too long and too quiet.

"We have nothing in common... That and our lifes are way too dangerous, I can't bring another person with me." He saw the disapproving look on Stan's face. "It's not like I have anything to offer. I've spent my whole life buried in books and research. I don't know how to be in a relationship."

Stan scoffed at that. "What are you talking about, Sixer? You're a catch! Times change, Nerds are the new Jocks. There's a reason I was the second choice for most of the babes we met." A bittersweet chuckle escaped Stan.

Ford sighed, focusing on the fire again. "It doesn't matter anyway. Even if I wanted to try again, I highly doubt that they're still single." Now that was something Stan couldn't counter. Mainly because it's something he hadn't even considered. You were so head-over-heels for Ford the last time you and Stan talked, it just didn’t seem likely that you'd go looking for someone else.

The kids and Soos came outside, carrying marshmallows, crackers, chocolate and Soda. Dipper was the first to sit down on one of the logs. "I can't wait to hear of all the creatures you found! It must have been awesome!"

"You bet!" Stan grinned at the boy. "But we won't start with the stories yet, someone is still missing." Ford looked at his brother suspiciously. "What are you talking about, Stanley?" At the same time Mabel's eyes widened. "Are you saying we get to see-" She was cut off as Stan stood up and called out your name, announcing your arrival.

You smiled sheepishly and greeted everyone. The kids were super excited to see you again and Mabel ran over to hug you. You hadn't realized how much you missed them. When she let go of you she practically dragged you over to the campfire. Stan, who was still standing, hugged you as well.

"It's good to see ya again, toots." You chuckled. "I missed you, too, Stan." You broke the hug and turned to Ford who made no effort to get up or anything along those lines. Instead, you just waved at him, but gave him the same fond smile you had shown the others. "The same goes for you, Ford."

Behind you, Stan frowned at his brother, obviously disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm he showed you. He quickly put on a smile as he addressed you again. "Please, take a seat! We were just about to begin with our stories."

You sat down between Stan and Soos, who just greeted you with a simple "Hey dude". You two had become friends over the course of the last year.

Soon everyone had prepared a stick with a marshmallow and held it over the fire while Stan told the most extravagant stories of their travels. You were glued to his every word, his storytelling being how you two became friends in the first place.

You were so engrossed in the stories that you didn’t notice the way Ford looked at you. He adored you. The way the warm light of the fire illuminated your features perfectly. The way your eyes seemed to sparkle with pure joy as Stan talked about heroically fighting off some beasts. Hell, he loved you.

This wasn't news to him, of course. Ford had known this for over a year. In fact, when you confessed your feelings for him, he wanted to hug you, kiss you, propose to you on the spot. But he didn’t. Because he felt like he wasn't enough.

Ford felt like he didn’t deserve happiness after almost ending the world and he knew that he would achieve it if he let himself be with you.

Back then, after you had left, Ford had told Stan about the whole thing, who took him by the shoulders and shook him, asking him if he was insane. The next day, when they were about to leave, you had stopped by to say goodbye to Stan, but refused to speak to Ford, politely making up a reason why you had to leave again.

It had crushed him. Ford wanted to sprint after you, turn you around and kiss you all dramatically like in the movies. But he didn’t. Because he had hurt you already and didn’t dare to make it even worse.

Which, of course, had made it worse anyway. The way you had parted ways meant that you were left all alone with a broken heart. And you couldn't even talk to your best friend about it because he was on the same boat as Ford.

But now, as Ford looked at you again, he felt all the feelings he had been trying to bury beneath the ocean floor bubble back up again.

"And that is how Ford and I defeated the mighty Kraken!" Stan was standing, his hands raised to the sky in triumph. All of you cheered and clapped your hands. It was so good to hear his gruff voice and exaggerated stories again. Although, you were more inclined to believe him this time.

The evening went on with more stories, smores and lots of laughter. You were so relieved to have them back in your life again, all four of them. You had missed them more than you realized.

Eventually, it turned late and the kids began to get sleepy. The fire had also died down. In a joined effort you all cleaned the place back up, bringing the rest of the snacks and drink back inside the shack.

After putting more things on the kitchen table for Stan and the kids to put away you went outside again to see if there was anything else to get. Soos came your way and you held the door open for him as you stepped outside.

Ford was still there. "That's everything. Soos took the last of it." You nodded. "Neat." You were about to step back inside again when you felt Ford's energy shift to a more energetic one. He pointed to the porch light.

"Look at that! That's a Tyria jacobaeae! I haven't seen one of these in ages. A beautiful creature, just look at the markings on its wings, the bright red color..." Ford looked at the moth in awe and when you stepped closer you realized why.

The little black and red creature truly was stunning. But if Ford hadn't pointed it out then you never would have noticed it. "It is really pretty. But there is no way I'm gonna remember a latin name for anything." You chuckled lightly as you said it.

Ford hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, it is more commonly known as the Cinnabar Moth. Cinnabar, like the mineral, of course, because of its striking color. It wards off predators, letting them know that they're toxic."

You instinctively took a step back and Ford chuckled at your reaction. "There is nothing for you to worry about unless you plan to eat the little guy." You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "Haha, no. Doesn't really fit my diet." Ford and you shared a laugh together.

Another, considerably larger, moth joined the other one at the lamp. This one was bright white and yellow with little black dots on its wings. Ford nodded knowingly as he spotted it. "Estigmene acrea. The Salt Marsh Moth. Very pretty, but did you know that these little guys aren't very well liked around here?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question you shook your head 'no' and sat down on the couch Stan kept on the porch, letting Ford lecture you. He quickly sat down next to you as he continued. "They feed on most crops which means that farmers have to be on the lookout for them around this time."

God, how you had missed this. Just hanging out with Ford, letting him tell you all about a subject he was passionate about was one of your favorite things in the world.

Your gaze shifted from the Moths in front of you to Ford's face as he kept on talking about the little creatures. You didn’t try to keep the look of adoration off your face as you watched him animatedly explain the differences in their wingspans.

Eventually, he noticed your staring and turned his eyes to you, stuttering his speech to a halt. You chuckled fondly. "How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?" He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You just have to open your eyes and learn to find beauty in the mundane. That way you won't ever be bored again." As if on its own your body leaned towards him. You quickly stopped yourself. He rejected you once, you didn’t need to go through that again. Ford hadn't noticed.

You forced your eyes away from his and toward the moths again with a sigh. "The only times I haven't felt any boredom were the days I spent with you last year." A tight feeling settled in your chest as you spoke the words, but you couldn't stop yourself. "And today, of course."

You tried to keep your tone casual, your voice light. Ford felt an ache in his heart. He wanted you to never be bored again, show you the world through his eyes. Show you how he saw you.

"Surely you weren't bored every day of this past year, right? I bet you went on at least one interesting date?" He tried to keep his tone equally casual. Tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Who'd wanna date me?" "I would." You froze. Surely you had misheard him? You turned to look at Ford again, his expression was... honest?

You frowned. "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Ford." You stood and turned, about to walk away. Ford grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "Who's laughing?" You pressed your eyes shut and stayed with your back to Ford, unable to look at him.

"I just got over you. Don't make me go through all of that again." Ford felt his heart shatter in his chest. "I am so sorry." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I was a selfish asshole. And you deserved so much better. You still deserve someone so much better than me."

Ford took a deep breath, still holding tightly onto your wrist. He couldn't let you go until you knew the truth. "I, on the other hand, don't deserve your forgiveness. Hell," A bitter laugh escaped him, "it took Stan a whole year to convince me that maybe I deserve to be happy sometimes at all, even though I almost caused the world to end."

He took a shaky breath, tears pricking at his eyes. But he wasn't done yet. "I spent the whole year regretting every word I said to you that day. Because... what I didn’t have the guts to tell you then is... I love you."

Ford stared at the back of your head, looking for any movement at all that could give away how you felt about his words. But you didn’t move for a moment, didn’t spare him a glance. Without a word, you flexed your arm and pulled hard, tearing your wrist from his grip.

You walked away from him and the shack without turning back. Ford was in shambles, his legs trembling and tears flowing freely. He wouldn't have been able to follow you.

Stan and the kids had watched the whole thing unfold from one of the windows, being attracted to the sudden noise like moths to the light. Now they stood shocked, with their jaws on the floor.

Back at home you threw your shoes and jacket in a corner before collapsing onto your bed. You were angry at Ford for treating you like that, playing with your emotions for over a year. Slowly, it settled in that Ford had just confessed his love to you.

After a year of thinking he didn’t want you that way, it left your emotions all over the place. Angry, sad and with a weird feeling of relief you cried yourself to sleep.

A soft knock to your window woke you up again. It was still dark outside. It was a big window that led to a balcony. You stepped in front of it and pulled the curtains back, revealing Ford. He looked like a kicked puppy, making it impossible for you to ignore him.

You opened the window and stepped outside to him. "What do you want, Ford?" He cringed at your harsh tone of voice. "I came to apologize... again. I know I hurt you. I know I behaved all wrong. And I'm sorry." He looked up into your eyes.

"I don't expect you to fall into my arms or anything like that. You're over me and that's fine. I won't try to win you back. I-I just wanted to be honest... but, maybe that made it worse again..." Ford shook his head, starting to pace around in front of you.

You took a deep breath. It was time to just let go of your anger and instead seize the moment while you had the chance. "Ford." He turned to look at you with big, hopeful eyes. "I'm not over you."

He took a step closer as you continued. "I thought I was. But everything that happened tonight... everything you said... I still love you." You locked eyes with him and you could see the relief flooding through him as he let out the breath he was holding.

Silence washed over the both of you, neither sure how to proceed. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable either.

The dull moonlight cast a blue hue over the both of you. You looked up at Ford's hair, admiring the way the light made it glow, when a little winged creature landed on his perfect hair. A smile crept on your face and you raised your eyebrow along with your hand to his hair.

Carefully, you held your hand out to the creature, offering your finger to sit on. Ford stayed quiet and you urged him not to move too much with one hand on his chest. The animal took your offer and when you felt every one of its six legs on your finger you brought your hand back down.

You held the little moth between you two. Its wings were light-blue with dark tips. Ford smiled at the creature. "Lomographa semiclarata or Bluish Spring Moth." He put one of his hands under yours, making you both hold it together.

"Did you know that in a more spiritual sense, moths often symbolize transformation and are generally considered as a good omen?" You looked up from the moth and smiled softly at him. "Is that so?" You let the hand you still held on his chest wander upwards to his neck.

Ford nodded lightly. "They represent positive conclusions." You let out a content breath, accidentally startling the moth into flight. Both of you followed the creature with your eyes. "...And sometimes death."

You laughed and lightly swatted him on the chest with your now free hand. "You better not die on me, Ford." He placed one of his hands on top of yours that was now on his chest and the other one on your waist, pulling you closer. "I wouldn't dare."

Ford slowly moved his face closer to yours, giving you plenty of time to back away in case you didn’t want what was about to happen. But why wouldn't you, this is the moment you spent an entire year dreaming about!

You let your eyes flutter shut and soon enough felt Ford's lips on yours. They were softer than you imagined, making you smile slightly into the kiss. You moved your lips against his in a way that felt just right. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.

Ford sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting himself enjoy the moment. This was the kiss you would remember forever. Especially because he would immortalize it in his journal first thing tomorrow morning.

When you both parted you felt like you were floating. You rested your head on Ford's shoulder, just enjoying finally being able to hold him like this.

"Positive conclusion, indeed."

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 5

summary: the morning after the party, paige and azzi grapple with their feelings. as they navigate the aftermath of their shared moment, both struggling to read each others' emotions and define their relationship.

cw: fluff, slight angst.

disclaimer: everything i write is fictional, any and all similarities to real life is not intensional.

word count 4.7k +

author's note: ik yall are fed up with my melodramatic ass i’m sorry 😭

paige's pov:

the morning light through my blinds is harsh and telling. the events of last night flood my mind. slow dancing in the street, pleading her to hear me out.

i remember everything.

the hurt in azzi's eyes, gentle and hopeful. her kiss on my forehead felt more like a goodbye than anything else. a rush of embarrassment courses through me. all my desperation for nothing.

years of carefully towing the line between friendship and something more, all undone by my alcohol fueled vulnerability. this wasn't to say i didn't mean it, though. i felt a strange relief that night, even if she hadn't believed me, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

i should text her and apologize.

my fingers hover over the screen, debating what i should say. what do i even tell her after all of this? i'm left without words, everything i've ever wanted to say, was said last night.

the words i want to type burn in my throat: "i meant every word i said."

but i can't bring myself to do it. the memory of azzi's pained expression, filled with a slight pity. her gentle rejection, while seemingly reluctant, stops me cold.

what if i tell her i remember and it ruins everything? what if my honesty costs me the most important person in my life?

my chest tightens, an anxiety builds between my ribs. and to make matters worse, i'm definitely hungover from last night.

maybe it's better if i just pretend i forgot.

the thought of denying my feelings feels like a betrayal—both to azzi and to myself. i've spent years hiding my feelings, making them smaller, more manageable. but now that they're out in the open, how can i possibly go back from that?

my mind races with possible messages to send her, each one feeling like a step backward. maybe this is what she wants? maybe azzi doesn't feel the same and was just trying to spare my feelings? give me an out, an opportunity to forget and move on.

she wouldn't let me tell her i was in love with her.

the phrase still lingers on my tongue, catching in my throat. i need to think logically here, but my mind is fuzzy and filled with what-ifs.

the next few days blur together in a haze of anxiety and embarrassment. every time my phone buzzed, my heart skipped a beat, hoping it was her.

i tried everything to keep my mind off of her. i spent hours on the court, lobbing up the ball. my performance was lacking, my body reflecting my mind. i ran drills until my legs burned and my lungs ached.

i couldn't outrun my feelings.

i prayed that god would save me from this. give me the right words, the courage to speak to her. i begged god to take her away from me if it wasn't meant to be.

every time i closed my eyes to pray, i saw her face.

i had a few days between the end of the season and training camp, so i went back home to minnesota. packing away all of my emotions in a carry-on bag. thinking that if i pretend to forget long enough, maybe i really will.

i can leave everything here, all of my mistakes, left behind in storrs.

i should be happy to see my family, especially after so long. i've missed them immensely, but as we greet each other, my mind still wanders to her.

"welcome home, paigey!" drew calls from the driveway, standing between my mother's legs. my heart aches, he's gotten taller since i last saw him.

"hi guys," i greet them both, my voice steadier than i felt. they helped me carry my bags into the house. it came naturally to them, after years of supporting me through tournaments and travel. but this time was different. this time, they were carrying more than just clothes and basketball shoes.

deep within those zippers—the heartache, the regret, my unspoken truth. everything i tried to leave behind.

the weight of my baggage laden on my family's shoulders.

the rest of the day, we fall into a familiar rhythm. mom's home-cooked meals, drew's relentless teasing, the comfort of my childhood bedroom. it was easy to slip back into the role of their little girl, a hometown prodigy, untouched by my mistakes of today. it's almost enough to make me forget about everything.

but during family dinners, i'd zone out, wondering what azzi was doing. checking her socials, even though i knew she wouldn't post. was she thinking of me? did she miss me? was this killing her too? i felt guilty for being so absent-minded from my family but i couldn't stop it.

they're my family but azzi was my home.

i went to bed feeling heavy. our days of no contact burdening my heart. it's the worst at night; i haven't been able to sleep much.

the darkness of my childhood bedroom felt suffocating. the walls closing in on me with the momentum only fear brings. my sheets tangle between my legs as i toss and turn. the bright red numbers of my alarm clock taunt me, blinking with expectation.

2:17 AM. i stared at the ceiling. my room so dark, i couldn't tell if my eyes were open.

i miss her voice.

the way she'd whisper to me in the dark of my bedroom. her words like a blanket, soft and heavy.

3:34 AM. i grab my phone, scrolling through our last text. my thumb twitches over her contact.

i miss her touch.

the calmness she carries in her fingertips. the way she ordered my body with just the stillness of her hands.

4:22 AM. i tuck my knees into my chest, burying my head between them. without her, i feel like a kid again.

i miss her eyes.

a knowing spark that glistened at me occasionally, cutting through her poised resolve. the way her eyes lightened when it caught flickers of sunlight, my little pool of honey.

caught in the small space between her eyelashes, i drifted to sleep. it'd only been an hour or two when i heard my phone ding. reflexively, my heart races, hoping it's her.

i reach for my phone, my heart stopping for a moment as i read the text. 

surprise hits me first. azzi's family had always been like a second family to me, but her timing is insane.

then comes a wave of dread. would it be weird? azzi and i haven't spoken in three days, not that i've been counting. our last interaction burned in my mind. does azzi even want me there? had she told her parents what happened?

hope flutters in my chest. maybe this is a chance to mend things, to be normal for a night. the thought is interrupted by a creeping sense of doubt in my gut.

what if azzi doesn't even know i'm invited?

my fingers hover over the keyboard. part of me wants to accept immediately, desperate for any connection to azzi. but another part of wants to decline, to shield myself from confrontation.

as a middle ground, i like the message. giving myself time to debate my decision. this dinner invitation feels like a crossroads. whatever i decide, it could change everything. again.

azzi's pov:

the familiar creek of the third step on the staircase takes me back. my grandparents' house held a special place in my heart. maybe it was the cozy 70's bohemian style that carried through their decor.

maybe it was the fact that it's only twelve minutes from paige's house.

i've been waiting for her to reach out first. after that night, after everything she said, i didn't know where her head was.

god, i feel awful.

i let my fear shut her down. i should have let her finish, should've told her i feel the same. she tried to tell me she's in love with me, words i'd been dying to hear since we were fifteen.

i tried to keep my mind off it, but the guilt was eating me alive. i threw myself into anything else, impatient to relieve this feeling.

i spent hours with my headphones on, letting the music drown out my thoughts.

but every song was about her.

the lyrics distorted to say her name, echoing through the cavern of my heart. i heard her soft breath between beats, real and steady. guitar chords mimicking the hum of her content.

when the silence became too much, i read for hours. clinging to the words on the page, desperate for them to take me away from this reality. i'd almost finished two whole books in the span of three days.

but every story mirrored our own.

i was living between the pages of my favorite romance novels. the missed connections and unspoken tension, all much too real to bring me any comfort.

every distraction felt hollow in comparison to my guilt. a persistent shadow, clouding everything i do.

the happiness that i used to find so easily, died on her lips that night.

the afternoon sun filtered through my curtains, i set the table, getting ready for dinner.

"azzi?" my mom calls from the kitchen while washing the dishes. "i was thinking you and grandma can make some of those chocolate chip cookies paige loves," her voice nonchalant.

my heart flutters when i hear her name, and before i can say anything, she continues. "i invited her over for dinner tonight," she says smiling.

paige. here. tonight. as in a few hours from now, tonight.

"what?" i choke out, my mind racing.

my mom misreads my panic for excitement. "i've missed her, you remember all the summers she's spent here," she says, looking back down at the dishes.

how could i possibly forget?

i sprinted back upstairs, my thoughts spinning. she was going to be here. sitting at my dining room table, looking as beautiful as always. after everything that happened.

i imagined all the different ways tonight could go. what if she doesn't want to see me? what if i ruined everything?

i hope she meant everything she said.

my thoughts shifted to my appearance. if tonight really was going to be the night i finally open up to her, i needed to look nice. i tear through my closet, clothes littering my floor.

i settle on a soft pink sweater. she once told me she liked the fabric, she'd run her fingers down my spine melodically.

maybe she'd reach out to touch me tonight.

my hands shake slightly as i apply my mascara. i fan out my eyelashes, i wanted her to look at me. when i get to my lipgloss, i'm reminded of her. all these little moments we'd share, carried a new heaviness after her confession. i dab a bit of concealer under my eyes, hoping to create an illusion of peace i don't feel.

i stare at myself in the mirror, imagining finally meeting her eyes. rehearsing what i might say to her.

"i'm sorry. i should've let you finish. i feel the same way."

the words blend together in my head, like a mantra. i'm going to get it right this time.

i take a deep breath, attempting to steady my heart rate. tonight could change everything, for good this time. if she remembers, if she still wants me, i'm hers.

i'll tell her everything.

i hear a car door slam outside. she's here. a combination of fear and hope stirs in my stomach. we can make things right.

i run down the stairs to open the door. our eyes lock, and my world falls away from me. there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, looking just as vulnerable as she did that night. her lips parted slightly, the ghost of her confession haunting her expression. her eyes soften, just for a second, before she catches herself.

"hey, az," she says, her voice a little too casual. "it's been a while."

we hug awkwardly, our bodies stiff with the burden of unspoken words. "yeah," i say into her shoulder. i'm upset with myself, i still can't find the words.

instead, i just hold her a bit tighter. a firm grip on her shirt, i feel her heartbeat race against my chest. for a moment, i think she might pull away, but then i feel it—her finger, tracing down my spine, dancing over my vertebrae through the soft fabric of my sweater.

just when i begin to melt into her touch, she pulls back, holding me at arm's length. when we part, there's a soft pink flush in her cheeks that wasn't there before. she flashes me an awkward smile, raising her eyebrows slightly, before leaving to greet my family.

does she remember? is this her way of telling me?

we held on for a moment too long, our embraces lingering past the point of a casual greeting. i'm left standing right where she left me, my skin still tingling where she'd touched. the motion of her fingers, like morse code on my spine, a message i'm desperate to decode.

i watch as she effortlessly charms my family, slipping back into the role as their favorite. the floor buzzes underneath my feet with an undercurrent of tension.

paige belongs here, she always has.

at dinner, we sit next to each other, our elbows almost touching. i swear these chairs were not this close together when i set the table.

as everyone settles in, an uncomfortable silence falls upon the table. i catch my dad shooting my mom a look, gesturing for her to say something. she returns the look, annoyed, then looks down at her plate. she opens her mouth to speak but my grandma cuts her off.

"azzi, honey, you never bring any nice boys around. haven't met anyone special yet?" she smiles between mouthfuls.

boys? huh.

paige nearly chokes on her food, a smirk flickering across her lips. regaining her composure, she glances at me, holding in a laugh. her eyes are wide, filled with anticipation, eager for my response.

she can't help herself, chiming in, "yeah, azzi. no cute boys catching your eye?" her voice drips with mock innocence. i catch her tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek, a gesture of pure arrogance. she tilts her head to the side, eyes searching my face.

god, she looks hot when she's being cocky like this.

"i been...busy. you know how it gets in college," i avoid her eyes, careful not to let my thoughts show. but inside, i'm screaming.

i do have someone special. she's sitting right next to me.

my grandma doesn't let up, clearly amused by the topic. "come on, a pretty girl like you? what about that nice boy from the men's team?"

i feel a heat burn through my face, spreading down my neck. i bounce my leg anxiously, trying to find a way to change the topic.

she continues, "i'm just saying, honey. love is a beautiful thing." her eyes shift to paige now. "you shouldn't let it pass you by," she examines our response.

i look up to meet her eyes, attempting to speak up again, when i feel it suddenly. paige's hand rests on my thigh, a bit higher than my knee, slowing my nervous shake to a stop. the placement feels almost suggestive, more intimate than our usual touch.

my breath catches for a moment, and i become aware of the warmth of her palm against my skin. she speaks with her hands, for the second time tonight, stroking her thumb in a sweet, yet somewhat possessive gesture. she gives me a reassuring squeeze before speaking up.

"she brings me around, am i not special, grandma fudd?" paige interjects, pouting; her voice playful but sincere.

she speaks with intention and a hint of something—protection? possession?

my grandma's face lights up like this was the reaction she's wanted the whole time. "oh, of course you are, sweetheart." her eyes darting between us, "i've always thought you two share something very...unique."

the way she says the word 'unique' makes my stomach flip. had she seen it all this time? had everyone seen it? were we the last two to notice?

paige's hand remains on my thigh, a comforting weight. i cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently. a silent thank you.

the rest of dinner goes smoothly, chatting about old memories and stories. i'm desperate to know what's going through paige's mind. i notice the little things:

the way our hands brush when she passes me the salt, our fingers meeting for a moment too long.

the stolen glances when she thinks i'm not looking. the way her eyes flutter when i catch her looking.

how she stumbles over her words when they ask about our last hangout, avoiding eye contact.

the way she tenses up when our knees touch underneath the table, but she doesn't move away.

each moment is a contradiction of the last. her actions are a slow waltz—a push and pull between familiarity and distance. by the end of the night, i'm convinced she remembers. but something inside her keeps pushing it away.

i don't wanna pretend anymore.

after a few hours of this, i know i can't let this continue for much longer. we need to talk, really talk. and soon.

paige's pov:

"can we talk?" azzi's voice is soft and hesitant. my heart skips a beat, a familiar palpitation i've felt around her for years.

i nod, following her up the familiar stairs to her childhood bedroom. the staircase is lined with family photos, filled with memories i've been trying so hard to forget—or pretend to forget.

how can i truly forget when azzi's smile in these pictures makes my chest tighten? she's been missing from my heart for years, it swells at the thought of her.

azzi shuts the door behind us gently, my eyes scan her bedroom. it hasn't changed much, still leaking with her personality. her bedroom walls are covered in photos of us, a tapestry of memories.

i catch sight of an old film camera. azzi's grandma had given it to us right before i moved to storrs. the sight of it brings a rush of emotions from that night i'm not prepared for.

"you still have this?" i ask, lifting the camera. it feels heavier than i anticipated, or maybe i just feel weak under azzi's gaze.

she unravels me in just a few blinks.

her eyes soften, "yeah, of course. we used to take that thing everywhere."

my heart aches at the memory—taking the camera to games, practices, summer trips. i liked the challenge of capturing her beauty between tiny frames of film. though, no photo could ever truly capture the extent of her allure, i had fun trying. i'll always be her photographer, and she'll always be my perfect model.

"do you remember the first roll we ever shot on here?" i tilted the camera, my voice softer than i intended.

"yeah," she says, pointing to a set of photos on the left side of her wall.

i lean in to look at a photo of myself, mouth full of azzi's grandmas' cookies. i'm smiling at the camera, my happiness driven by azzi standing on the other side of the lens.

we were so young.

as i look at the photo, memories flood back. azzi watches my expression, noticing my composure change. "we captured some good memories that night..." she trails off, deep in thought.

like our first kiss.

that was probably one of the best decisions i've ever made. the memory washes over me, warm and bittersweet. the softness of her lips, the slight tremor in her breath. we were so young, so nervous, yet so sure in that moment.

it was simple then. our feelings existed in the small space between our lips, protected from the outside world. i didn't have to put words to the flutter in my chest or the warmth in my cheeks.

loving azzi was as natural as breathing, just as essential too.

i miss the simplicity of it all. i could love her without the burden of expectation. i'd prove it to her eagerly, in everything i did. holding her hair back when she drank too much. folding her clothes cause she hated doing laundry. reading her favorite books, desperate to understand her mind.

our love was in the details—the way she'd adjust my form in practice, save the last of her favorite snacks for me, read to me so i could fall asleep.

loving her has always been the easiest thing. it's everything else that's gotten so complicated.

i want someone, something to blame for this. is this just how things get as you age? the simplicity of love becoming frustratingly far away. maybe it was time, the pressure of sports, or maybe this was bound to happen. maybe we were always meant to put words to these feelings—to call it out boldly by it's name.

maybe it's time.

everything from that night reappears in my mind, this time under a different lens. the thoughtful box of memories azzi gave me that night—had she felt the same way all this time?

i glance at azzi, noticing a sudden change in her expression. she looks like she's just remembered something important, her eyes widening slightly. she starts to pick at her fingers nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"hey, paige?" azzi asks, still looking down at her hands. "did you ever finish that book i gave you that night?" her voice brimmed with nervousness. she radiated an emotion i couldn't quite place, clinging to my response like it will save her from her feelings.

i shake my head, feeling a little guilty. "not quite. i saved the last chapter."

i learned that from her actually. the way she cherished the things she loved, always saving them for the right time.

azzi's eyes light up, a mixture of relief and anticipation washing over her. "you should read it," she says quickly, her voice carrying an urgency that confused me.

she hesitates before continuing, her eyes closing for a moment in a long blink. "about the other night, when you said..."

my body goes cold. my drunken confession. i panic, the fear of confronting my feelings overwhelms me.

what if she's just trying to let me down easy? what if i misread everything?

"oh, yeah?" i force out a laugh. "i hope i didn't say anything too embarrassing, you know how i get when i drink."

i can't risk it again. i'm sorry, azzi.

azzi's face falls slightly, but she quickly masks it. her eyelids flutter, she stares at the floor. i can see the thoughts flickering through her mind. she sees right through me.

"no, no you weren't embarrassing," her voice lowering to a whisper. she locks eyes with me now, intent on making me hear her. "you were actually quite...poetic."

i'm no poet, i was just speaking from the heart.

i swallow hard, knowing she's giving me another opportunity. but i resist, remembering the pity in her eyes that night. "poetic, huh? that doesn't sound like drunk me at all," i joke weakly.

azzi narrows her eyes at me, tilting her head to the side. "you don't remember anything at all?" she questions.

i refuse to meet her gaze, "it's all pretty fuzzy, az."

i'm lying, and we both know it. but i can't bear to see that look of pity in her eyes again.

she takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated. she mutters an "okay" underneath her breath.

the sound of rain pattering against the window fills the silence between us. i hadn't even noticed the storm brewing outside, too caught up in the storm of emotions in this room.

"listen, it's getting late i should go," i say, my voice strained like i'd been screaming, even though i hadn't said anything at all.

as i turn to leave, azzi calls out, her voice soft yet determined. "paige, you can talk to me...when you're ready."

god, she's still so sweet to me. i don't deserve it, not now.

i pause at the door, guilt coursing through me. i know she sees through my lie, knows i remember everything. she knew the moment i stepped foot into this house. she could see it in the softness in my eyes, feel it beneath my fingertips.

"thanks, az," i whisper, before walking down the stairs.

for a moment, i'm tempted. to stay, to talk, to finally be honest. but the fear of getting rejected again, of ruining what we have, is too strong.

katie stopped me as i headed for the door, "leaving already?" she looks a bit sad. "it's pouring out there, why don't you stay the night?"

and share a bed with azzi? after that conversation, absolutely not.

"thanks, but i'll be fine. it's not far," i insist, grabbing my keys.

as i head for the door, i catch a glimpse of azzi's face. hurt, confusion, and something else—disappointment?—flash across her features. but i can't stay.

i step out into the rain, letting it mask the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. my hands shake as i fumble with my car keys, nearly dropping them in a puddle.

i'm doing the right thing.

the mantra echoes in my mind as i slide into the driver's seat, but it rings hollow. i grip the steering wheel, willing myself to believe it.

i can't let my feelings for her get in the way of our friendship. i'd be selfish to put my emotions over our relationship again. i'd be anything she wants me to be—even if that's just a friend.

i'm doing the right thing.

i turn the key into the ignition, reversing out of her driveway. the intensity of the storm matching the turmoil in my heart as i drive away, leaving azzi and the truth behind.

i can't be wrong again. i can't bear the thought of her letting me down easy, telling me she doesn't feel the same.

i'm doing the right thing.

back at home, my guilt eats its way through my stomach. a relentless ache that promises a sleepless night. my eyes drift to my nightstand, where a worn copy of looking for alaska rests- the book azzi gave me years ago.

sometimes when i'd sleepover at her place, i'd pretend like i couldn't sleep so she could read to me. her voice soothing like a lullaby, i lost myself between her breaths. heavy and melodic, her cadence became my cough syrup, drifting me to sleep.

i flip open to the final chapter, determined to finally finish the book. memories flood back, the way her words coated my thoughts, i can almost hear it now, as i start to read.

i've put this off for so long. terrified of the ending, the finality of a precious memory between azzi and i. saving the final chapter for the right moment. maybe that moment is now.

as i turn the last page, a small slip of paper flutters out. simple yet somehow charged with potential. i unfolded the paper, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

azzi.

my heart pounds as i begin to read. the first few words hook me in, something all too familiar. my breath quickens, my lungs expanding like i'm breathing for the first time.

i didn't need to find the words, she already had. years ago.

by the time i finish, my hands are shaking. the room spins slightly. in a strange paradox of emotions. her words lifted a weight from my chest, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. yet simultaneously, a new weight settles on my shoulders—the gravity of what i need to do now.

how long had this been there? sitting on my nightstand, packed in a suitcase, tucked into a bookshelf. how many times have i almost read this, almost known?

i guess we've both been hiding something.

i leaped from my bed, grabbing my keys, slamming the door behind me. i was exhausted seconds ago, but now, sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. i need to see her. to talk to her. to make it real.

we've wasted too much time already.

[funniestpersonalivefr]

First of all YOU ARE AMAZING i could neverr write like this ,my brain simply can't function when it comes to these stuff, second of all i was fighting the urge to ask you for another older leon x fem reader smut/fluff because i felt like im just gonna be annoying but since i failed to stop myself here it is: "imagine leon has this coworker who he worked with during the alcatraz island incident and managed to develop a crush on her, so after days or weeks of tiptoeing around and aimlessly flirting he finally brings himslef to ask her out and one thing leads to another and BOOM! they have sex" IM SORRY IF THIS SOUNDS CORNY AND CHEESY YOU CAN TOTALLY IGNORE THIS IF YOU WANT SO ANYWAY LOVE YOU BYE

sweetheart

RAHHH IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY STUFF. anyways here's the leon request mwahahaha. nsfw under the cut, mdni. credit to image owner. not proofread and i hope you enjoy, love ya!!

your time at alcatraz was nothing but stressful. you ran around with leon and the others fighting a giant b.o.w. and you were so relieved when everything was over.

the following days you and leon spent the days swamped in paperwork. leon had been especially flirty lately, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't admitting the extra attention gave your butterflies in your stomach like a teenager in love.

how could you not fall for the charming man? he was kind and incredibly attractive but you'd never guess he would feel the same about you. yet there you were, walking into the parking lot with leon as you approached your respected vehicles. the words left his lips seemed to slip out so effortlessly and you felt your heart catch in your throat.

"you outta let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night, if you're free," he says, his low tone brought a warmness into your chest. you look back at him, he's idly standing next to his motorcycle.

"yeah, that sounds great. i'd like that," you say, your tone is soft and shy as you look away. a smile is spread across your lips and leon mirrors with his own face.

your date with leon went extremely well, a nice dinner followed by a motorcycle ride. he was all over you the moment you two had gotten back to your apartment and you were not complaining.

his lips were on your neck as he slammed you into various walls around the house, a trail of clothes following you. usually leon would try to be more of a gentleman but he was completely and utterly obsessed with you.

his crush on you had always been there but something about the alcatraz mission changed it. maybe it was the way you protected all of those around you but his heart fully belonged to you.

your back hits the soft bed, both of you have been stripped down to undergarments and nothing more. his rough calloused hands feel up and down your body, grabbing your boobs. his lips are against yours as your hands tangle in his hair.

leon's bulge presses perfectly between your legs as the two of you grind on each other with desire and need. his touch was gentle as he removed the bra separating him from your tits. your bra was quickly thrown off to the floor, leon's mouth quickly finding its way to your quickly hardening nipple.

his mouth helps to stimulate the bud, letting pleasure rush down your body. you can't help the way your hips buck into his, a groan slips leon's lips and you know you need him inside you right now.

your hands are soon fumbling with his belt, leon catches your wrists stopping you.

"what do you think you're doing sweetheart?" he asks, you whimper out slightly.

"i need you leon, i need you inside me," you say, pleading with him to give you what you want. he can't help but give in to you with the way your glossy eyes look up at him and your beautiful face flushed.

leon lets go of your wrists and you're quick to continue your actions. his clothes join yours and it's not long before he's slipping his fingers in you, stretching you to make sure you can take his cock. you whine out, desperate for his length and leon coos at you.

"be patient now, can't have yourself getting hurt," he says, his tone dripping with sweetness. his fingers start doing a scissor motion and you can't help but moan from his touch.

soon enough your needy cunt is stretched just enough for leon. you can feel him rub his tip through your soaking folds. you prop yourself up and watch as he starts to slide into you, it almost looks like he's disappearing into your pussy.

his movement is slow as he lets you adjust, waiting for you to signal you're ready for more. this signal comes with a roll of your hips. leon starts to thrust into you deeply, his long cock kissing your cervix perfectly.

he continues to plow into you, not sure how long he can last with how deliciously your cunt clenches around him. you're a whiny and moaning mess from how well he's fucking you, and you can feel that familiar pressure building up in your stomach.

leon presses his calloused fingers down to your clit, rubbing it slightly to help push you over the edge. you shudder under his touch as your orgasm approaches, your body shaking as it does. leon's soon spilling his cum into your cunt from the sensation of your squeezing around him.

he's cursing into your ear as his hips sputter, soon pulling out.

"fuck, i didn't mean to-" he says, referring to the cum he just dumped into you. you silence him with a kiss before pulling away.

"i'm on the pill it's fine, plus it was um... it was hot," you admit, looking down. a chuckle leaves his lips as he reaches to your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

"i guess i'll have to do it more, huh sweetheart?" he teases and your face flushes as you roll your eyes. the two of you are completely smitten with each other.

[fadingdaggerr]

omfggg I just finished reading truth be told and it was so amazing and good and wonderful and wow wow wow you're so talented!!! can you please please consider writing a part 2 where r and Mel slowly start dating and Mel starts bringing them back around her family and introducing them to the Abbott crew and everyone is like 👀👀 and then Mel asks them to marry her and everyone is Mel's family is like FINALLY.

truth be lived

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: part two of truth be told, based on request above | 9.6k

includes: useless lesbian disease, fluff, more fluff bc the last part didn't have enough

warnings: they/them pronouns used for r, slight insecurity, kissing/making out

translation: peluche (italian - teddy bear)

italics are flashbacks

note: god this took me so long i’m sorry. my brain is an evil being. but N E ways how shocked are we that this is way fucking longer than part one? we aren’t? that’s what i thought. swear my dumbass can't make it easy on myself, but i just really wanted to grow the relationship and not just throw it out there yk?? excuses excuses, i know

It’s almost worse than when Barbara made her go a month without caffeine. Scratch that. It’s fifty times worse. It’s been a week that Melissa has gone without getting to see you. The week that will finally come to a close once the clock strikes seven and you show up at her door.

Saturdays, as of late, the two of you spent nearly three hours in a coffee shop, talking endlessly until your macchiatos went cold. Catching up on over a decade apart was slowly patching the dam that gave out all those years ago. A month of this gravitated to getting lunch together during the week, sitting together on a bench in the halfway point between your jobs. A couple more weeks, and you started going to the bar on Fridays to get your whiskey sours to celebrate the end of a hard week.

It was over stealing a cherry from your drink that Melissa got brave enough to ask you what had been on her mind since she saw you again. She knew it had to be her move, after all that had happened before.

“Next Friday night, you busy?” Melissa asks as she picks the stem off.

Your tongue ghosts over your lips, “not at all. And for you, I’m always free.”

“Would you wanna go out? With me?” An exhale rattles her chest, “Like a- like a date?”

Scanning her face, all you can see is sincerity in her question, and not a touch of restraint. The corners of your lips fly up, creases around your eyes deepening as you take in the sight of a nervous, but hopeful, Melissa. What you wouldn’t give to cradle those flushed, pink cheeks and kiss her right now.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” you answer, “name the time and place, and I’m there.”

A grin that’s equally dorky as yours appears on Melissa's face, her smile prevalent in her voice, “you worry about nothing. I’ll pick you up.”

Green eyes flick from the Tucci mug in front of her to the clock over the door. Only eleven hours and forty minutes, not that she’s counting. A sigh passes her lips at her own desperation. She went nearly a decade without you, half a week shouldn’t be this hard. By God, though, it is.

By lunch, it feels like another week passed her by. A sense of freedom fills Melissa, finally able to dig her phone out of the bottom drawer of her desk where she previously jailed it, too tempted to check for texts from you or send her own. For added proof of her restraint, she doesn’t allow herself to look at the screen until she sits at the table next to Barb.

The moment leather pants meet the hard plastic chair, her phone is ripped from her pocket, glasses perched on her nose. Glossy lips stretch into a smile immediately.

Peluche: any idea how to make 6.5 hours into 0?

Peluche: asking for a friend

Tell your ‘friend’ if I knew, I would have done it.

The little smirk on her face does not go unnoticed by the others in the room, though none are brave enough to ask about it. Jacob eyes his roommate from across the room. He’s seen the weight on her shoulders fly off within the last few weeks, the oven door hasn’t slammed once, she didn’t even make fun of his new kombucha. Early excuses to retire to her bedroom were becoming more frequent, and after a very brave snooping session, Jacob heard tiny bits of a phone call. Breathy giggles coming from his roommate made him step away, an act to save not only his room, but also his life.

The little grin that would appear on her face, before she scurried upstairs, was the same one that she wears at this very moment. It takes the willpower of a thousand Ava’s in a hookah bar to not jump up and down at the thought that Melissa may be seeing someone again, someone clearly better for her. With all of his self-control, held together with sheer desperation, he glances at Barbara. God’s number one soldier is smiling to herself, giving a little nod as she feels his gaze on her. Confirmation.

There’s a certain pep in her step the rest of the day. Not one eye roll as Janine breathlessly recounted her walk back from the deli, no pinching the bridge of her nose when a student asked a question she’d answered seven times already today, not even one occurrence of biting her tongue to save herself an elbow from Barbara. Blissfully happy Melissa is almost more terrifying than angry Melissa, her stiff walk replaced with a certain bounce that didn’t diminish.

“Alright, little eagles, it is go-time! Move it, move it! If you’re not out the door in ten seconds, you’re spending the night with the Abbott ghosts!” The kids all run past Melissa in a flock of giggles as she mentally counts each one, making sure everyone is accounted for before locking up her room. Giddiness grows in her chest, T-minus four hours, and she finds herself just as motivated as the children to run out the doors. Uncharacteristically, she tries to avoid Barbara on her way out, trying to get home as fast as humanly possible, knowing she would be in a frenzied overdrive once she starts getting ready to see you.

“Melissa!” She cringes as she hears her name at the end of the hall, stalling her in her place. Turning on her heel, the redhead faces the floor to hide the pained expression she wears, before looking back up. “Girl, where are you going in such a hurry? You’re moving like the devil is on your heels.”

“The devil couldn’t catch me if he tried,” Melissa snorts, “and I’m just tryna get home, I got plans tonight.”

Barbara raises a brow, “plans, you say? With whom?”

“No one,” she replies, but the sly grin and pink cheeks give her away.

The kindergarten teacher hums, “well, you have fun with no one. I expect a debrief Monday morning, maybe Saturday if you find some free time.” Pink cheeks go as red as Melissa’s hair at the insinuation, only managing a little huff and nod as a response before slinking off to her car.

—☽—

Melissa had given you only one direction for tonight, being that you should dress warm. As much as she knew the limited information would bother you, she hoped you trusted her enough to go along with it, and you did without question, but not without a half-second of hesitation. She could already picture the game of eenie-meenie you would likely play when you went to pick out a sweater or sweatshirt.

And she would be right. With an hour left before Melissa was to arrive, you stood half-naked in front of the closet on your fifth round of the game in trying to choose what to wear. Though every time you reject an option, you’d manage to find a potential reason to go with it, and the cycle keeps going. Deciding to let fate take its chance, you throw an arm over your eyes and blindly swing the other to randomly grab something to wear, at this point you don’t even care if it’s the matching Bluey sweatshirt you share with your nephew.

Fate is on your side it seems, the blind reach procuring a loose fitting, dark grey sweater, one you’d owned over half your life. One that Melissa had stolen many times before, that you had to steal back from her. Without a second thought, you put a longsleeve on before the sweater, just in case it finds a way to pass ownership.

Similarly to last week, you find yourself tense and jittery, waiting on the edge of your seat for the text that tells you that you’ll be able to see her again. Bosco nudges at your hands to be pet, clearly noticing your nerves, attempting to snuggle them away. He’s an expert, your shaky hands stilling as you scratch gently around his neck, dodging his wet nose before it meets your eye. Utterly in the zone petting the spaniel, your phone pinging pulls you from your trance.

pretty girl: Ready when you are.

i’ll be right down, just a sec

pretty girl: Take your time hon.

You, in fact, do not take your time, but what Melissa doesn’t see, she can’t possibly know. Panting at the bottom of the stairs, you take a spare few seconds to catch your breath before walking towards the only car in the lot with its lights on. Leaning against it was Melissa, picking at her nails with pursed lips, a tell-tale sign of her nerves. The closer you get, the more clearly you can see her. Her bright pink hoodie is clearer now, contrasting against a pair of leather pants that almost rip the air from your lungs.

The words leave your lips before you can really stop them, “you’re beautiful.”

Bright eyes look up from the pavement, wide with surprise from your seemingly sudden appearance in front of her. Heat spreads from down her face to her chest at the compliment, feeling every bit of it from head to toe, reveling in the warmth of your attention. It’s been years since you’ve looked at her like this, much less spoken.

“You-” she breathes, “you’re wow.” A second wave hits her when she sees what you’re wearing, that fucking sweater. She’d stolen it more times than she can count, straight from the closet or even directly off of your body, and now it was within arms reach again.

“Should’ve asked first, wearing your sweater and all,” you say lightheartedly, hoping that it will calm the nerves between you both.

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” Melissa chuckles, looking down bashfully. “You ready to get going?”

All you manage is a nod, far too excited to be in her presence to get anymore words out. Ever the gentlewoman, Melissa slides in front of you to open your door, closing it once you’ve slid into your seat. You knew better than to ask where you were going, the redhead already told you three times that she wasn’t spoiling anything for you.

The entirety of the twenty minute drive, it takes a god-like amount of effort to keep from staring at Melissa’s hand on the gear shift. Shimmering rings just beg to be fiddled with, hand asking to be held, but you refrain from crossing the line. The late time keeps the road relatively empty, though Philly streets are never silent, a cacophony of horns and yelling seems to linger regardless of the sun’s presence.

The car pulls into a lot of a building, only a small deli on the first level, the rest appears to be utterly vacant. Slowly, you turn to face Melissa, looking at her with pure confusion and a need for an answer.

She peeks over, sensing your gaze on her. Putting the car in park she simply says, “just trust me.”

“I do,” you reply without hesitation.

It takes very little persuading for you to begin following Melissa, in through the deli where she greeted the man at the front desk. From the little Italian you still remember from being around her family, you pick up something about a door and the two of you being allowed to do something. All the fishing for translation in your mind halts when a hand goes to the small of your back, guiding you to the back of the shop towards the stairs. At the top floor, Melissa reaches around you to put the code into the door, opening the roof access. Three thick blankets stacked on top of one another, with a cooler holding them down, greet you when you turn after watching the redhead prop the door open with a brick.

A sort of wonder takes over, just following her movements as she sits on the blankets, patting the spot next to her. Taking residence next to her, you scoot closer without even an attempt of subtlety. Glossy lips curve into a smile at your action, Melissa immediately trying to hide it by reaching into the orange cooler.

From the cooler, she pulls out a shaker and a bottle of whiskey, peeking at you with a mischievous look in her eye. Without breaking eye contact, she lifts out simple syrup and lemon juice. Simultaneously, both your noses scrunch, leaning into each other slightly as you snicker, feeling juvenile in the excitement of it all. 

Despite taking the time to garnish both your drinks with maraschinos, you pretend to not notice the sly reaches to pull them out of your drink. As far as you’re concerned, she can have whatever she wants if you get to hear that quiet, satisfied giggle.

Reaching into the cooler again, Melissa pulls out a small radio, checking her watch as she fiddles with the dials. After a few moments, you hear what sounds like the opening credits of a movie. Knocking her knee with your own to get your attention, she points to a screen a little ways away, a small drive-in theater that you didn’t even know was in the city. Squinting a little to see the title from the distance, you see that it’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of her father’s favorites. The thought alone makes you smile, he’d gotten you both into westerns once you were ‘old enough to appreciate them,’ meaning when you were well into your twenties.

It takes little time for the two of you to end up pressed against each other, everything packed away and forgotten off to the side. The two of you stay quiet as you listen to the movie, both mouthing lines you remember. Your eyes long to look at her, so you look down to grab your drink, shifting your eyes to look at Melissa.

Once you do, all you can do is watch her, her hands, her eyes, her lips, how content she is written on her face. It’s hard to take your eyes off her, it always has been, but right now it feels more difficult than ever. Yellow street lights barely illuminate her, everything you can see is because of the sheer closeness of your bodies. The warmth radiating off of her is grounding, the chill around you nonexistent.

Feeling your attention on her quickly has Melissa turning towards you. She’s met with a nose brushing against hers, both of your eyes widening at the newfound closeness. Neither of you even attempt to move away, completely engrossed in each other’s gaze; the closest you two had been in a decade, here and now.

“Can I-” She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

“Please.”

Lips rush to press against yours, moving quickly, but so carefully that you can’t help the whine that crawls out of your throat. It takes even less time for your hands to slide up to her face, holding her close as her own hands wander to hold your sides. Needy fingers weave into her hair, tugging lightly at soft copper. Melissa groans into your mouth, tongue swiping against your lips, being met with instant entry and a cross between a sigh and moan.

Any remaining gloss that wasn’t sticking to the plastic cups was spread across your lips, giving you a taste of cherry and lemon, whiskey shared between you. The feeling of her tongue is intoxicating, and all you can manage is to haul her closer, wanting her entirely against you. Catching on, Melissa pushes further into you, leaning you down onto the blankets. The change in position seems to bring a moment of pause to both of you, parting for a moment to catch your breaths.

Slowly, you open your eyes, meeting jade eyes with blown out pupils. Detangling your hands from her hair, you bring them back to hold her face. Stroking your thumb over her cheek, her eyes flutter shut as a deep breath leaves her chest. You gently pass over her cheekbone, following the slope to her lips, kiss-swollen and lovely. Brushing against her lips, you see her eyes open again, watching your attention on her skin. You can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her.

Tugging her down gently, you press a soft kiss to her lips, easy and slow. A silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere, that you want this just as much as she does.

The entire drive back to your building, Melissa keeps her hand in yours, enjoying the feeling of your grip tightening around hers every now and then. Uncharacteristically, she drives the speed limit through the streets, wanting to prolong her time with you as much as she can. Pulling into the lot, she lifts your hand to press a kiss to it before hopping out, rounding the car to open your door.

“What a charmer,” you joke, voice bubbly and light from pure adoration for the woman. Humming, Melissa’s fingers tangle with yours as she walks you to the door. Leaning against the cold brick of the building, you pull her in closer, wanting her in your orbit a little longer.

Her thumb glides over your knuckles, “thank you, for tonight.”

“Thank you. Next time, though, I’m planning everything,” an easy smile crosses your face as you fiddle with her rings. You watch a barely suppressed excitement cross her features, feeling your heart swell at the sight.

Subconsciously, you both lean into each other, no words spoken between you. Your eyes flick to her licks, catching her attention. With a barely there touch, Melissa presses a kiss to your lips, lingering as you just barely keen into her. As she pulls away, she forces herself to take a step back, knowing if she stays close that she’ll never leave.

“Can’t wait,” she says, a smile on her lips that never fades when she’s around you.

“Text me when you get home?” You have to keep a hand on the wall behind to keep you in place, too drawn to Melissa for your own good.

She chuckles, taking a step back, “it’s a five minute drive.”

“Just text me, please,” your head drops to the side, looking at her through your lashes.

The only you get is a little nod, reveling in her little smirk as she turns away. Your eyes stay on her, intent on seeing her safely to her car, but she seems to have other ideas. Before she even reaches the fence, Melissa turns on her heel and quickly walks back up to you. Without so much as a warning, she holds your face in her hands and plants one more solid kiss to your lips.

When she pulls away she sees your brows raised and a dumbfounded look on your face, it leaves her with a little spark of pride in her chest. Her thumb passes over your lip before she steps back, slowly walking backwards, “I’ll text you.”

—☽—

The trudging of Jacob coming upstairs shakes Melissa from her last minute indecisiveness about her choice of shirt, registering her open door, throwing the green shirt over her bra-clad form. Quick feet land her in front of her vanity, plopping in the seat to seem busy instead of fretful. Silent prayers that he leaves her alone go unanswered, peeking in as she unscrews the wand of her mascara.

“What’re you up to tonight?” Jacob asks, practically hopping up to her.

She purposely avoids looking at him, “noneya.”

“Oooh, come on Mel-Mel! Spill!”

“Stop calling me that,” she lets out shortly, carefully blinking on mascara. “I’m just going out, that’s all.” Melissa promised herself the second you came back into her life, she wouldn’t refer to you as just a friend. Not until you told her that’s all you want from her, she couldn’t blame you for that choice after all of her own.

You are beginning to run out of things to fill the time until Melissa arrives. The kitchen was wiped down and swept, the living room vacuumed, shit, you even wiped down the blinds. A nagging part of your mind keeps ringing that maybe you should change the blanket over the back of the couch, but the others don’t match the pillows and that will only make your skin crawl more.

A slammed door in the hall makes you startle out of the near catatonic state you’re in, eyes glazed over as they stare unfocused at the coffee table. Your eyes jump to the clock, the little hand getting closer and closer to the seven, only twenty minutes until she’s here. You let out a deep breath before it hits you, only twenty minutes.

Nearly crashing to the floor as your socks glide on the carpet, you rip the top drawer of your dresser open, brain rushing to figure out if the fluffy socks are a bad look or not. Eyes clenching, you sigh at the immaturity of your own thoughts, feeling like a middle schooler trying to get their crush to like them. It’s all frivolous, really. But, God, you want her to like you.

With five minutes left to wait, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the dark TV screen as your leg bounces hard enough to cause a six-point magnitude earthquake.

Unbeknownst to you, Melissa has been sitting in the lot of your building for ten minutes, working up the courage to walk in. If she didn’t get here early, she is sure she would’ve been late walking inside. Melissa stretches out her hand from the tight clenched fists they had been, crescents in her palm from her pink acrylics. She has to reread her text about a million times before sending it.

Just pulled in.

Peluche: i’ll be right down, give me 30 seconds

Creaking of a heavy metal door takes Melissa out of her thoughts where she stands on the steps, turning to see your head just barely popping out of the door. Neither of you can help the little grins that come to your face, both of your attempts to hide them being useless against the other. Wordlessly, you wave her in, and Melissa is quick to obey. It’s quiet as you both climb the stairs, until you arrive at your front door.

The moment you press one number on the keypad, Bosco is barking up a storm on the other side of the door. When the door opens, he is just as quick to start jumping on Melissa, clearly remembering his friend that he hasn’t seen in almost three months.

“Bobo, dude,” you almost whine, trying to tug him away despite his excited hopping, “alright, enough. Bed, now, little freak.”

When you turn back to Melissa, her face is pink from laughter, the lines around her eyes deeper from the smile on her face. Slipping her jacket off her arms, she asks, “is he like that with everyone?”

“No, not everyone,” you answer, stepping forward to grab her jacket from her to hang up, “he’s usually only that excited when I get home or when my neighbor stops by, but he never jumps on him since the man’s like eight thousand years old.”

Melissa tries to ignore the shivers up her spine, “probably just remembers me, or I’m just that special.”

“Two things can be true at once,” you say sincerely, taking the bottle of wine with you as you search for the corkscrew. “I’ve only got stemless glasses, that okay?”

“Blasphemous,” she jokes, leaning against the counter, resting her weight on her elbows.

Lightheartedly, you roll your eyes, pouring her glass first. Melissa’s eyes light up as you swirl the wine in the glass before handing it to her, something she does before she starts any glass. It’s a pointless little thing she has done since Nonna began allowing her a small cup of wine at dinner when she was fifteen, she never thought you would remember something so miniscule.

It takes less than two minutes of sitting on the couch for Melissa to realize that she had made the biggest mistake telling you that she didn’t care what you watched tonight, that you had full reign of choosing. The Conjuring pops up on the screen, the ominous tree makes her groan. Dropping her chin to her shoulder, she stares at you. The pursing of your lips and strict avoidance of her eyes makes the stare turn to a glare.

“You’re fucking kidding,” she says with a facetious anger, “you’re fucking with me.”

Turning slowly, you put on a failing face of innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Melissa laughs through her words, “you’re trying to get me to walk outta here.”

“No! You said I could pick whatever I want,” you gesture towards the TV.

Melissa heads tilts down, but her eyes stay on you, lips turning up, “you tryna get me all scared like a cliche little movie date? Real sly.”

“So what if I am?” Your expression is playful, but there’s something in your voice that makes Melissa feel warm.

A deep breath leaves her lungs, “if this jump scares me, I’m hitting you with a pillow.”

“Thankfully, I have several,” you mumble, a sated smile on your lips as you press play. 

Two glasses of wine later, you find yourself relaxed into the arm of the couch, while Melissa sits curled into a ball, fully leaned into the back of the couch. For someone so confident and brave, it has always humored you that she was so easily scared of horror films. She nearly suffocated you when she came over one night all those years ago, Candyman left you with the redhead clinging to you like a baby koala.

A pitchy squeak pulls you from the reminiscing you can’t seem to escape, eyes scanning the screen, seeing the exorcism scene, before looking towards Melissa. With her hands over your eyes, you can see her mouth moving, quiet mutters of God dammit and mother fucker leaving glossy lips. It’s impossible to suppress the little chuckle that bubbles in your throat, and squinted green eyes stare you down.

“Shut up,” Melissa mumbles, looking at you rather than back at the movie.

“I didn’t say anything,” you can’t even say it with a straight face, “you’re the one that said I could pick the movie.”

Melissa throws the pillow in her lap at you with a weak arm, “you know I don’t like this scary shit. I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll put Fox and the Hound on after,” you offer. Olive eyes give you an unimpressed look, but the corners of her lips turn up before she gives a little nod in silent thanks.

Her eyes don’t leave you as your attention falls back on the screen, watching as you become fully engrossed in the happenings she refuses to acknowledge. Melissa’s mind churns over your earlier statement, how you might’ve just chosen this for her to get closer to you, and she wishes she could say your not-so-subtle plan wasn’t working. Yet, here she is, thinking that if you were holding her, this would feel like a Pixar film.

Slowly, as if you were the spooked one, she slowly shifts closer. After scanning for discomfort that she doesn’t find, Melissa leans closer, praying you’ll catch on.

“Get over here,” you mumble through a huffed laugh, shifting to rest your back against the arm, putting a leg down on the floor to open up space. Not wasting a second, Melissa lays down on top of you, tucking into you enough that only one eye is able to see the TV, but only if she strains to look up.

It takes zero time for your fingers to find the ends of her hair, the feeling only making Melissa settle in further. Your free hand gets a hold of the remote, turning off the movie before it’s even ended. While you’re looking for the cartoon, Melissa fishes her phone from her back pocket, not bothering to move as she checks her messages.

Jacob: sooo am i leaving the porchlight on or are u coming back in the morning

Put the light on, please.

Jacob: am i allowed to ask questions????

The redhead feels your laugh more than she hears it, peeking up she sees your smirking face. You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “you’re right, he’s nosy.”

“Told you. If we were at my place right now, we’d be getting interviewed until next week,” Melissa grumbles. Your only answer is a hum, attention moving to the annoying task of typing out the name of the movie.

You just did.

Your chest rumbles with silent laughter at her response, only holding her tighter when her phone drops on the table and her nose bumps against your neck. The meandering fingers that twirl loose curls around them are a constant distraction for Melissa, the voices of Copper and Tod not even reaching her ears as she settles into a comfort she’s been longing for for years. Nothing will ever quite match the feeling of your lips pressing to her temple.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti is picky. Name a topic, she’s got a steadfast opinion on it. The Seahawks? Wanna-be Eagles. Mashed potatoes? Better when a little lumpy. Sleeping? Her bed is the only place she can feel rested. She’d grown all too used to sleeping in her own bed alone, it feels foreign to wake up with someone beside her.Well, her opinion may have changed on that last one.

Curled under a thin blanket, Melissa wakes slowly as the little rays of sun work their way under the curtains. Attempting to stretch her legs, she tries to turn on her back, but is met with resistance. Her movement makes the arm around her tighten, a head nudging into her shoulder blades. Her fingers run up and down the expanse of your arm, quietly asking for you to loosen up. With newfound freedom, she turns to face you, meeting half open eyes and a dopey grin. Tucking yourself into her, you press a lingering kiss to the junction of her neck, mumbling into warm skin.

“What was that, baby?” Melissa rasps out.

“Phone went off,” you grumble a little louder, shuffling closer to her.

Blindly, the redhead reaches around for her phone. Huffing, she forces her eyes open enough to catch face unlock, but they immediately bulge out of her head.

Jacob: hey u coming home tonight?

Jacob: mel mel?

Jacob: barbs said u were fine but can u just answer

Jacob: melissa?

Melissa flies up, your arm dropping limply beside her. A high pitched whine climbs out of your throat as you sit up, leaning against her side with your head on her shoulder. Glancing at her screen, your eyes go as wide as hers.

“If you need to call him, go for it,” you say quietly.

She sighs, “I don’t like lying to him. I’m just…”

“I know,” you reach to hold her hand, “just do whatever feels right for now. We’ll figure everything out later.”

Melissa only gives a nod in response, clearly still in her head. Giving her space, you press a kiss to her shoulder before climbing out of bed. Green eyes follow as you walk out of the room, nearly stumbling into the door as you go. She gives herself another moment to watch you by the coffeemaker before glancing back down at her phone.

Once you’ve taste tested the coffee you made for Melissa, you carefully walk back into your room, trying to not spill a single drop. Glancing up from the mugs, you see that Melissa’s eyes are scrunched, clearly hating the conversation that was happening, but accepting the consequences. Opening one eye and seeing you, she presses a finger to her lips as she puts the call on speaker.

“-ad me worried! You could’ve been dead in a ditch, or worse! I’m happy that you’re happy and having a good time, but you need to be safe! Wait- that sounded weird, I meant physically safe. But that kinda safe too!” Her roommate’s, well warranted, rant continues, leaving you both struggling to breathe from the laughter you try to hide.

Melissa takes a deep breath to compose herself, “Jacob, again, I’m sorry. Wasn’t looking at my phone, but I’ll be better about it.”

“Cross your heart!” The sixth grade teacher was clearly not playing games.

Despite him not being able to see her, Melissa actually draws an X on her chest, “cross my heart.”

Laughing inwardly, you leave Melissa to speak with Jacob as you pad around the room, grabbing your clothes for the day. You feel eyes on you as you move, chest warming under her affection. Peeking over your shoulder as you go down the hall to the bathroom, you send her a wink that makes her grin.

When she finally hangs up with Jacob, Melissa flops back onto the bed, mulling things over in her mind. Telling her friends about you couldn’t be so bad, could it? Starting slow could help, but that means starting at home, and Jacob’s mouth is far too big to keep anything to himself. Telling Barbara will be easy, she already knows about you, just not current events.

She knows that Barbara will love you, that you will love Barbara. Deep down she knows the two of you would be two peas in a pod, and the thought of that alone makes Melissa want to throw caution to the wind. As much as she hates to admit it, acceptance of you from Jacob is something that weighs on her. He’ll probably be obsessed with you, and you don’t even have to say how much you want to meet him, she already knows. It could be so easy.

The spiral in her mind comes to a halt when she hears the bathroom door open. Suddenly feeling full of energy, a giddiness in her bones, she jumps out of bed to find you. Finding you in front of the microwave, reheating your coffee, she wraps her arms around your waist. The light squeeze you receive makes you smile, turning in her grasp to face her, arms encircling her neck.

“Hey, you,” you say, fingers twirling her hair.

“Hey, yourself,” she doesn’t even try to hide the lovesick look on her face, “I’ve got a proposition for ya.”

You snort, “you’re propositioning me?”

“Don’t even,” a hand playfully pinches your side, “it’s a serious question.” The little grin on your face drops, and Melissa can feel your hands freeze where they play with her curls. “Not super serious… just wondering if you’d wanna meet them? Barb, Jacob, maybe the others?

“You want that?” She nods immediately. “Are you sure?” She nods again. “Then, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

—☽—

How on Earth was she ever nervous about this? Seriously, how?

Janine had invited most of Abbott to her shoebox of an apartment for an end of year party, cleverly inviting Melissa and Barbara over early to get them in a cleaning mood. Everyone else wasn’t supposed to arrive for another half hour, you included. Melissa asked you to come later, hoping that there was less of a chance you’d be grilled if you arrived when the party was more full.

Forty sardines with master’s degrees fill the apartment, and Melissa is still finding little things around the place that need to be dusted and wiped down, but her momentum entirely ends when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Nearly dropping the vase in her hands, she fishes her phone out.

Peluche: i think i’m here

Peluche: the bouncer?? won’t let me in

An amused sigh passes her lips as she swerves through the sea of bodies to get to the front door, seeing Mr. Johnson with his arm barring the door.

“Mr. J, let them in,” Melissa laughs out, patting the man’s shoulder. He turns to look at her with scrutinizing eyes, but lowers his arm to allow space for you.

An arm wraps itself around your waist, immediately pulling you into her space, filling your senses with honey and the distinct smell of foundation on her skin. Guiding you carefully, trying to keep anyone from getting too close to you, she brings you over to where Barbara is fussing over a bookshelf. With a tap on the shoulder, the kindergarten teacher turns to Melissa before brown eyes land on you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so excited to see you in your entire life, and you don’t even know this woman.

“By the good lord’s graces,” she gasps at her own outburst, thrusting out her hand for you. “I’m sorry dear, it is lovely to meet you. I’m Barbara.”

Shaking her hand, you reply, “lovely to meet you, too. I’m-”

“Oh, I know exac-”

“Barb!” Melissa cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. Your hand rubs her arm, trying to keep her from blowing a gasket, even if you’re fighting giggles next to her. Her attention falls back on you, all annoyance fading, “you want a drink?”

You nod, feeling her already beginning to tug you away. Rushing your words, you speak to Barbara, “it was nice meeting you!”

“You too, sweetheart. I’ll see you at brunch next week, I’m sure,” Barbara chuckles warmly. Accepting that this was the closest thing she’ll get to an introduction with Melissa.

Staying behind you with hands on your hips to guide you, Melissa leads you towards the kitchen. Everything feels like it’s underwater, with her hands on you, protective and, dare you say, possessive. For someone who had been nervous for days about you meeting everyone, she sure had no care in the world now. Quietly, next to your ear, you hear her counting down from five. Just as she hits one, a squeal pierces your eardrums.

“Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh!” The voice is immediately recognizable to the one that had been lecturing the redhead over the phone in your bedroom only a few weeks ago. “Hi, hi, I’m Jacob, I work with Melissa at Abbott.”

“Also lecture her, from what I heard,” you joke, making Jacob pause.

Without a chance to blink, Jacob jumps up and down, “so you’re where she’s been lately!” Both you and Melissa wince and the sheer volume of it, but recover quickly when he calms, suddenly quiet and scanning you over, “you better be careful, not for her sake, but yours.”

There’s no malice in his words, it’s a pure warning. From the look on his face, it’s entirely about what he’ll do if she gets hurt, not what Melissa would do to you. From behind you, the redhead’s brows scrunch, mostly out of confusion, ready to tell Jacob off for talking to you like that. She feels guilty, she’s the one who messed everything up before, she deserves the questioning of her worthiness.

You take Jacob’s words in stride, “I’m counting on you to set me straight then, if I ever dare to step out of line.”

Jacob’s entire demeanor goes back to normal at your words, looking at Melissa excitedly, “I like them.”

“Yeah, me too. You ain’t special,” she chuckles, hand on your hip tightening, pulling you imperceptibly closer.

Within an hour, most of the partygoers are on the dancefloor, the two of you included. Cups with rum and whatever chaser Janine had left were teetering on spilling, holding your weight against her is all that keeps you from teetering as well. Sea Barbara stays happily to herself with her cardboard cutout dance partner, content to slow dance to the fast paced music. Singing and cheering around you feels far away as your drunken attention refuses to stray from Melissa, her attention staying on you.

It’s increasingly more difficult to not kiss you when you’re this close, but with warm bodies against her at every side, it’s less than ideal. If it were, it would just be the two of you. She’s so close to just asking if you want to get out of here, but she’s interrupted just as she ducks to speak in your ear.

“Melissa! Barbara! You’re supposed to be cleaning!” Janine yells, hands on her hips. You can feel Melissa groan more than you can hear it, loud music almost deafening you in the small apartment. Barbara tries to shoo the shorter woman away, but her drunk state doesn’t hold the same level of authority that it typically does.

“Janine, it’s a party. We’re partying,” Melissa says dismissively. Not once does her hand leave your waist, keeping you from being jostled by other people.

Her speaking up has Janine’s attention back on her, who quickly recognizes your presence. Brown eyes go from your face, to the hands on you, and back to Melissa’s face. Realization and excitement washes over her face, and the chattering that comes from her is hardly heard or understood from the bass boosts and liquor. Flapping hands keep moving as you try your best to gather her words, but she’s running off excitedly before you can even introduce yourself. You watch Janine bounce towards a lanky man, pointing in your direction, clearly telling him that Melissa brought someone.

Chuckling to yourself, you look back to Melissa, whose eyes are already one you. The universe seems to be both with and against her, because just as she tries to speak, the lights go out and the music stops. Warm hands pull you closer in surprise, and you can’t even be upset about your almost empty cup dropping to the floor. Murmurs around you get louder as everyone sits in equal confusion, but Melissa feels her opportunity.

Feeling lips brush your ear, heat rises to your cheeks, “wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes,” you say, shifting your hand from her arm to her hand, interlocking your fingers. Pulling you with her, she quickly gets to Barbara to let her know you’re both leaving, sneakily passing your phone to text Gerald while she gets her friend some water.

By the end of the night, neither of you could even find the energy to change out of your clothes after walking home. Melissa’s apartment being closer was a blessing, you didn’t even register that this was the first time you’ve been there. Neither did Melissa.

Brushing her teeth next to you in the mirror, pulling back sheets on the other side of the bed, becoming your personal pillow the moment you lay on the mattress. It just felt right.

—☽—

Bobbing your head along to Deftones, you mentally map out the drawing you’re supposed to be starting. The measurements they gave you make no sense, especially with the materials they requested. It’s like they’re asking for the building to concave on itself, not to house people. You’d pressed about giving them a consultation, see the inner workings of the old medical office yourself, but they rejected it ‘for time,’ which really means money. Little do they know they’re going to end up costing themselves more.

The song switches from Shove It to Mascara as knocking raps against your door, but they go completely unnoticed to you. So does the voice trying to get your attention without having to tap your shoulder, knowing it sends ten feet in the air in surprise.

“Boss… Boss… Boss!” Terrence gets no response for the third time before looking to the woman on his left, “you’ll have to go get ‘em, I guess. Lunatic keeps the volume to ear bleeding levels so they don’t have to listen to us, I swear.”

Melissa chuckles, “well, thank you anyways, hon. I got it from here.” Moving into the room, she shuts the door behind her, leaning against it to watch you for just a moment.

What she first notices is your button up, or lack thereof, disregarded on a chair on the other side of the room. Selfishly, she lets herself look you up and down, savoring bare arms and the hard look on your face. Melissa finds herself frozen, mind racing with images of you, subconsciously biting her lip as her eyes rake over you. Only pulled out of her mind by a groan that leaves your lips, she wills herself to get closer to you.

With your back still to her, you’re unable to see her slow movements as she tries to sneak up on you. Hands trail up your sides, clutching slightly when she feels you jump at the sudden touch. Turning in her arms, your bewildered expression dies when you meet green eyes, crinkled around the edges in amusement. Catching your breath, you wrap your arms around her neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you say softly, “but this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Missed you. I’ve barely seen you all week,” her arms tighten around your waist.

You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy feeling in your chest that’s spreading, “I’m sorry, they’ve got me practically chained to the desk until this draft is drawn up. Fuckers think it’s easy turning procedure suites into apartments, it’s not.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart,” her lips press to your cheek as she tugs you in, missing holding you, being held by you. “I have dinner with my family tomorrow night, though, so I won’t be around. Just wanted to get my time in with you before I go into withdrawals.”

You laugh at her words, “Withdrawal? Little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Me? Never,” she tries to keep a serious face, but her smile overtakes as she watches you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

A finger twirls a copper strand around, voice weary, “tell everyone I said hi?”

“Well…” Melissa’s face drops a little, knowing she hasn’t told her family that you’re back in her life. Her eyes scan your face, seeing the smallest hint of sadness, and hurries to correct it. “You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

The twirling stops, “you mean that? Because you can’t offer that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it, I promise,” her hands sit more firmly on you now, “they miss you, they just never mention it. But they do. Especially John Anthony. And Kristin Marie, but she’ll never admit that, even to herself.”

The only answer she received is a strong kiss pressing to her lip, her eyes immediately fluttering shut at the contact. The hand in her hair tightens as your entire body pushes into her, groaning at the feeling of her on you mixing with the emotions of it all. How easily she asked you to come with her, to see her family, to be by her side for real this time. It feels too early to say what you want to at this moment, so you just kiss her harder.

Melissa spent half the day and the entire drive to the house telling you that no, her parents don’t hate you, and that yes, they will be incredibly excited to see you again. She kept the knowledge of your attendance secret, not wanting to be slammed with questions, but mostly because she wanted to see the look on her mother’s face when she saw her favorite not-her-child from all those years ago.

“Are you sure you want me to go? I don’t want to if you only offered because you felt like you had to. If I’m impos-”

“You’re not imposing,” she almost whispers as she cradles your face, “I want you there. It hasn’t felt the same since you stopped coming.”

Pressing kissing to your knuckles every now and then, Melissa manages to take some of the anxiety off your shoulders. Turning onto the familiar street, you immediately sit up straighter in your seat, checking your outfit and fiddling with everything, desperate to pick off lint that isn’t even there. Melissa lets it go, knowing there’s no stopping this. Part of her feels guilty, knowing she’s the reason that you felt they could hate you, that they wouldn’t be happy to see you. All she ever told them was you had a mutual falling out, never that it was her fault, especially not that it was yours.

Pulling up in front of the house, Melissa’s fingers tighten around yours. Looking up at her, you see the silent question in her eyes, giving her a nod that tells her you’re fine. To prove yourself, you hop out of the car to jog to her side, opening the door for her with a grin. Shaking her head with a half-hidden smile on her lips, she takes your offered hand and pulls you into her, walking with you to the door.

No knocking required, Melissa steps in first, only letting go of your hand for a brief moment to shrug off your jackets before her hand is back in yours. Chattering in the kitchen leads you to where everyone stands or sits, sipping on beers and white wine. Clearing her throat, Melissa gets the attention of the room. Silence fills the previously loud air.

“Yooooo!” You hear someone yell, a voice that you recognize all too well. Without a moment’s notice, you’re immediately tackled, hand being ripped from Melissa’s. You hug the person back, still trying to figure out exactly who it is, but the exaggerated leaning side-to-side gives you everything. Little John Anthony isn’t so little anymore, not that he ever really was.

Feeling another body against you, one arm reaches behind to give some level of contact as acknowledgement. Slowly people let go of you while others come in, and all you can feel is glad that everything is so busy, no one will see the happy tears forming in your eyes. Annette’s noodle arms let go of you, moving as she feels a tap on her back. When she moves, Melissa’s mother stands before you.

“Finally,” she says, cradling your face in her soft hands, “I knew you’d be back.” Patting your cheek, she finally moves out of the way for others to get a hold of you. Melissa can barely see you most of the night, but the warmth in her chest grows every time she sees you talking with someone new, hugging someone else as you talk. Kristin Marie hides her excitement well, but not well enough, though you let her get away with hugging you tightly without saying anything about it.

By dinner time, everyone’s been reacquainted with your presence, and Melissa can finally get her hands on you again. Scooching her chair closer, she mumbles in your ear while the conversation carries around the table.

“Told you, nothing to worry about,” her hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

“I missed them,” you say, running your fingers up and down her arm, “I missed this.”

Family dinner ends the way it always does, with everyone talking in the living room, sipping coffee or the remainder of their drinks. You take your place next to Melissa on the couch, leaning your head on her shoulder as she talks to Toni about something you can’t remember. You haven’t felt this at peace in so long, you missed your family. Annette and Vinny fighting, music playing from the TV, chattering around you in a mix of Italian and English, it’s comforting.

Looking up from your perch on her shoulder, you keep your eyes on Melissa. Watching her hands move as she speaks, how happy she looks, how beautiful she is. Turning slightly to put her glass on the table, she catches your gaze, the corners of her lips going up as she catches the lovesick look on your face. Fully knowing she’s being watched, fully feeling the warmth in her cheeks, she leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Careful to not linger long, she pulls away and goes back to her conversation with her sister.

No more hiding.

—☽—

“Am I buying groceries for two people or three this week?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen, fidgeting with the pen in your hand,

“Mmm… Jacob mentioned maybe stopping by tomorrow night, so probably three,” Melissa answers, looking through the pantry, “and we need potatoes, I forgot to write that down.”

“Red ones?” You joke, coming up behind her to press your lips to the junction of her neck. Leaning her head back onto your shoulder, she lets you continue your path up her neck to her jaw, nipping at her ear. “I gotta get going before they close,” Melissa whines at the loss of contact, “I’ll be quick, might not even pay.”

She chuckles warmly, scrunching her nose, “right, sure you won’t, goodie-two-shoes.”

Pulling away, you jot down russets and give her another kiss, this one to her lips. “I love you,” you mumble as you part, “see you in a bit.”

The moment the front door shuts, the once cozy and nonchalant Melissa is replaced by a frenzied and excited one. Flying around the house, she begins to put her plan in place. Tealights are placed everywhere, the lighter checked for fuel, the small box from under her socks now buried in her pocket, she just had to open the bottle of Angel’s Envy. It took an embarrassing number of different liquor stores to find, but that was months ago, and this is now.

Melissa lights the last candle just as she hears your car door slam shut, then the trunk. Staying out of direct view, she watches you come in the door, looking at your feet as you walk. You’re in your own little world, completely walking through to the kitchen, dropping the bags off. Making your way into the living room, you almost drop the bouquet in your hands.

Candles all around the room, music playing softly from the record player, Melissa wearing your sweater. Your jaw drops, eyes wide as you stare at the redhead, utterly bewildered. She takes the chance to step a little closer, watery smile stretching across her face as you shakily hold out red chrysanthemums. Taking them carefully, she sets them on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you with her. Soft eyes watch her every movement, letting her move you around until you’re where she wants you.

“I love you,” Melissa says quietly, shifting from the couch to the floor, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I haven’t stopped once. Even when I didn’t know, I loved you. When I wouldn’t listen to my own brain, I loved you. When I thought I couldn’t, I loved you.”

“Mel…” Your voice comes out cracked, a wobbly lip stuck between smiling and sobbing.

“Let me finish, baby,” she says softly, stroking the hand she holds in her own, “you are everything to me, and it took me too long to figure that out. But now, I’m not taking a single thing for granted, not you, never you.” Melissa reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a small, emerald box, “I wish I could’ve had you my whole life, but all I can ask you for is the rest of it.”

Tears spill down your cheeks at her words, fingers clinging to her hand like a life source. You so badly want to reach out, cup her face, and kiss her, her words playing the strings of your heart, but you refrain. Too much restraint goes into not pouncing on her the second she pulled out the ring box, your lips practically begging to be on hers already. You can’t help the frown on your face when Melissa’s hand leaves you, properly holding the ring to present it to you.

“Will you marry me?” The smile on her lips only grows as she asks, knowing what you’ll say just based on the look you give her.

What she doesn’t account for was that all your restraint would break, and she’s knocked to the floor as you pepper her face with kisses, lips smacking against her skin. Moving from her forehead, to her cheeks, and finally, to her lips. All love, all want, all devotion, all you.

“Yes, yes,” you answer quickly, lips barely parting from hers, “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

Chuckling at your overexcited babbling, she manages to sit you both up, keeping you in her lap. A warm hand pulls your left hand from her face, sliding the ring on without taking her eyes off of you. Your hand immediately goes back to her face, pulling her into your kiss once more.

Morning back pain be damned, neither of you leave the floor of the living room the rest of the night. Waking up with your heart beating under her ear is all the consolation she needs, your newly ringed hand in hers.

At the next family dinner, all the cousins take one peek at your hand, eyes widening. Melissa and you both brace for shouting and to be lifted in the air by one of her brothers, but you were wrong. Maria Christina groans as she passes a twenty over to Seamus, who was getting handed money by at least four other people. He peeks up to see a very shocked you and Melissa.

“What? We all saw it coming, I just picked the right week. Ma said tomorrow.”

note: time for sol’s monthly novel <3 hope you enjoyed

feedback appreciated as always

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

[starrystormwritings]

Approval

Approval

Master List <3 Request list <3 Marauders Master List

Regulus Black x Slytherin! Potter! Reader

A/n: This had no plot as I began writing it I had no idea what I was doing and just winged it. I'm desperately looking for requests because I have no ideas at the moment lol. Anyway this is my first time writing anything Harry Potter/ Marauders so if anything is ooc let me know and bare with me <3

Summery: You and Regulus have been keeping your relationship secret from fear of your brother and his friends approval.

Warnings: Swearing, judgment, a little ooc (James and Sirius come across kind of mean I cant lie), reader is James's sister but no mention of their parents or appearance so you can imagine being adopted.

Word Count: 2367

(NOT MY GIF)

"Hey guys!" I said with a smile, taking a seat next to my brother and his friends at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.

"Why were you talking to him?" James asked me with a frown, my brother has forever hated the Slytherin house and as much as I can't blame him when I see the way that some of them act I also feel as if I need to defend them, seeming as it is my house.

James was devastated when the sorting hat placed me in Slytherin.

He spent weeks arguing with Professor Mcgonigal about how it was wrong and how I needed a do over because there is no way his 'good hearted and kind little sister could be one of those snakes'

I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting a little, I fit in with the other Slytherins in my year and made friends easily. I stayed away from the ones who shared the likes and opinions of people like Snape because I couldn't bring myself to be friends with people with such hurtful and outdated views.

But a lot of the people I met were nice and friendly.

But James would refuse to ever see that.

"I was taking to him because he's my friend, and we were walking to breakfast together." I said with a roll of my eyes, leaning over to grab myself some food.

"You are not friends with that snake." James said with a look of disgust.

He went to continue his complaints but Sirius cut him off.

"Evan Rosier is one of my brothers friends. Stay away from him." He said with a frown glaring over at the Slytherin table over my shoulder.

"Well even though he is your brothers friend he's also mine. I know shocking crossover for you. He's a nice guy, we do potions study sessions together and he's helped me with charms. He's a nice enough guy." I shook my head at Sirius with a frown, fed up of having the same conversation again and again.

"He's a pure blood Y/n." James said with a frown.

"And so are we, and Sirius." I said with a chuckle, looking to Remus for help but he just looked straight back down at his book.

"Yeah but we're not like them. They're mean and well snakes." James said, trying to keep his voice down despite his growing annoyance.

"They're family's made them like that. Not everyone could get away like Sirius luckily did. Evans a nice enough guy, and if he wasn't you know I'd stop talking to him."

"Yeah but-" James started before I cut him off.

"Remus help me here please." I sighed looking over at Remus pleadingly as he gave me a 'keep me out of this' look.

"Guys leave her alone, she can be friends with who she wants to be." He offered me a small smile before looking back down at his book "Now leave me out of this I'm trying to study."

"Fine fine. Anyway do you guys want to head to the library to pull a prank, I was thinking we could hex the books to make them scream if you fold the paper. Will probably make some people jump out of their skin." James said with a laugh, elbowing Sirius to hype him up about this stupid idea.

"As stupid as that sounds I need to study and since all the books in the library will be screaming I think I'll go to my dorm, I'll see you guys later." I smiled at my friends, waving at them as I stood up.

They all said they're goodbyes in return as I walked out of the hall.

I could feel a familiar Slytherins eyes on me as I left, slowing my pace down in the corridor as I heard the same familiar footsteps approaching me.

"Guess who?" He said from behind me with a chuckle, covering my eyes with his hands.

"Judging from this very shaky blindfold I'm gonna guess Regulus." I said with a laugh, turning around to face the smiling boy.

His hair was still messy despite his obvious efforts to style it, he grinned at me with that stupid lopsided smile you wouldn't expect from him if you were anyone else passing him in the corridor. A stern unemotional expression usually painting his face if he was around anyone else.

My relationship with Regulus started a few months ago when he caught me on the verge of throwing a book at some seventh years who were laughing at me over something so stupid I can't even remember what it was anymore.

He'd told them to piss off and then sat next to me, we spoke for a bit and despite my efforts to brush him off due to Sirius's warnings I couldn't help but be encapsulated by him.

Next thing I knew we were having secret meetings in empty dorms and broom closets.

"How's my favourite girl?" He asked, planting a small kiss on my forehead.

I swatted him away, taking a step to the side. I began walking again, him following close behind.

"What're you doing, someone could've saw." I said with a roll of my eyes, looking for a quite corner or broom cupboard we could duck into to talk.

"Why do you care, we have every right to speak to each other." He said with a groan, he'd been fed up of the secrecy for a while.

He was a private person, and it wasn't like he was looking for a relationship with heavy PDA but the secrecy was beginning to bother Regulus. Just the other day the head of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team asked me on a date to Hogsmead and Regulus just stood there biting his tongue as this guy just continued to flirt out of the excuses I was giving him.

He just wants people to know we are in a relationship, or at least see us together so often they don't bother asking.

But I wouldn't even let him speak to me in public.

"No we don't. I just think spent breakfast getting lectured about walking with Evan. I still haven't lived down when James saw me laugh at a joke Barty made the other week, and that's because they're friends with you. It would cause a war if James and Sirius found out we were together." I frowned at him as we slipped into a quiet corner of the castle.

He stood as close to me as he could and I found myself looking around to check no one was looking.

He put his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him, taking all my attention away from worrying and onto him.

"I know your worried but I couldn't care less. What're you so scared of? James is your brother he's not going to hate you." He brushed a piece of hair out of my face and behind my ear as he spoke, leaving his hand to linger on the side of my face.

"Sirius is your brother and he seems to hate you." He frowned at that, taking his hand away and stepping back.

I quickly realised what I said, reaching out for his hand and pulling him close to me again.

"I'm sorry, that was mean. I didn't mean that. I just mean me and James have always been so close and I don't want that to change. I love him so much and I love Sirius and Remus and Peter so much as well. I can't loose them over something like this. But I can't loose you either, so if keeping this a secret is the only way I can keep all of you that's what I want to do." I gave him a small smile, holding my breath as I waited for him to respond, hoping he'd just drop the whole conversation.

"Okay I understand. More dates in broom cupboards it is." His hand returned to my face and I giggled lightly.

I looked up at his face with a smile taking in everything about him as I did so.

He was just so perfect I couldn't understand how anybody could hate him.

He leant down to plant a soft kiss on my lips, leaving me breathless despite the chasteness of it.

I smiled at him completely entranced by how amazing he was.

"What the fuck."

Sirius voice made me jump, pulling me out of the daydream I was in as I moved away from Regulus, trying to come up with some sort of explanation.

"Sirius I can explain."

"Explain what? Explain how your kissing my brother? Explain how your betraying me, one of your closest friends? Sure Y/n I'd love a fucking explanation." He glared at me with a look I'd never really seen from him before.

Betrayal.

"I just,,, Sirius." I couldn't think of an excuse, I looked between the two brothers as I weighed my options. I didn't have many "Sirius I love him. Please just let me love him. Don't be angry or turn it into something, please don't bring James into this. Please." I looked at him with pleading eyes as I felt Regulus's hand touch my shoulder comfortingly.

"Take your fucking hand off her." Sirius said with a glare, causing Regulus to back away from me. "How could you do this to me, to James. He cares about you so much he's trying to protect you from people like him. But I guess we were wrong you really are just a snake."

His words stung as I just looked at him speechless.

"Don't speak to her like that, none of this is her fault. What happens between me and you is between me and you, not her." Regulus said, stepping up to his brother.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, your the one in the wrong here not me. That's the way it always is." Sirius said, glaring daggers at him before giving me another hurt look and turning to walk away.

"Your the one who left me! Not the other way around." Regulus said, voice cracking at the end of his sentence.

Sirius stopped for a second before continuing to storm off without turning back around.

~~~

The next morning I walked to breakfast with Barty and Evan on my one side and Regulus on my other, holding my hand with a small smile.

Despite the drama of yesterday and the sinking feeling I had all night the weight of the secret had been lifted off both of our chests and it was nice to be able to be together in public without worrying.

I glanced over at the Gryffindor table, hoping to take my usual seat.

I saw the eyes of mine and Regulus's brother staring at me with daggers. I went to take a step towards them, dropping Regulus's hand but Sirius took the book that Remus was reading and slammed it into the empty seat next to him. Earning an annoyed and disapproving look from Remus who then looked up at me with a supportive smile.

I offered him a small smile back before sighing at the other boy's behaviour.

Regulus noticed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, leading me over to the Slytherin table.

I focused my attention back on my friends as Barty continued telling some crude joke, trying to cheer me up a little.

~~~

"I'm sure they'll come around. He's your brother, he loves you." Regulus said whilst running a hand through my hair.

We were cuddling on the floor of a study room in the library, surrounded by books as we chatted and helped each other with potions homework.

"It's been three weeks and the only one of them that's spoken to me is Remus and that's only when we bump into each other. James is avoiding me like the plague, Sirius looks like he's about to kill me and Peters afraid to talk to me as if he'll get excommunicated as well if he does." I sighed, scribbling the notes I was writing out since I'd gotten distracted and lost what I was trying to write.

"They're just adjusting, this is new information they just need time." He kissed my forehead before leaning down to kiss my lips properly, causing me to smile again.

A cough from the door broke us apart.

"Am I intruding?" He asked, leaning against the door frame with a frown.

"James! Hi, your speaking to me?" I said with a small smile, getting out of Regulus's hug and onto my feet, walking over to him.

Regulus looked back down at his book, pretending to study and not listen to the conversation.

"I figured we should talk, I think this is the longest we've ever been apart. I just wanted to clear the air I guess." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

"I'm still beyond angry at you though, how could you date someone like him and not tell me." He said with a sigh, pinching his nose.

"Someone like him? I'm so fed up of you speaking about my friends and boyfriend like they're these evil people before you've even met them! He's a loving, caring, sweet boy who I love and who loves me. He just happens to come from a shitty family with shitty ideals. The exact same one your best friend comes from may I add. I'm sorry I kept this a secret from you, I was scared of what your reaction would be and obviously I had a right to be. But I will not apologise for being with him and loving him because I have every right to. I want nothing more than for us to be close again and to hang out like we were but if you can't deal with this then I'm sorry but I'm not going to break up with him over it, so it's you that's going to loose me." I watched his face, searching for some reaction but there wasn't one.

The room went silent for a second as James just stood there staring at me.

"Alright." He said, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

"Alright?"

"Alright. Your important to me, I can learn to get over it. No matter how gross it makes me feel."

I chuckled lightly and hugged him, feeling like a weight had been taken off my shoulders knowing we weren't fighting anymore.

"Are you going to introduce me to lover boy then?" He asked with a strained laugh.

He was trying his best.