#EMPTY SPACE IN YOUR HEART WHERE LOVE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BUT NEVER WAS GRANTED TO YOU WHEN YOU GREW UP? SO YOU HID THAT HOLLOW FEELING BEHIND

[aster-daydream404]

FR THO AAAAA!!

I JUST WATCHED THE MOVIE WITH MY BEST FRIEND YESTERDAY AND IT WAS GENUINELY SO GOOOOOD!!!!

I REALLY HOPE SHADOW ISNT GENIUNELY DEAD BC BRO

(As usual, ramble is in the tags HELPEPEPEPPEP)

How would you qualify Sonadow in the movie? "Enemies to Friends" or "Enemies to Lovers"?

Enemies to "please don't leave"

Listen, it makes sense to me—I need to draw the headcanons post-movie I have my godbwkfbkwjfke

[livinghostly]

i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

[talesfromsiliconvalley]

No Regrets for Our Youth

"To a watery palace of crystal bright

The knight on a sudden is taken" -Heinrich Heine, "Prologue" to the Lyrical Interlude, trans. Bowring.

After the fat years, the lean years. After the high tide, when the wave of fortune-seekers came to the Bay Area to make their fortune, the pandemic pulled many of them -of us!- back out to sea, and for all of 2021, the tide was out. Walk into a coworking space south of Market and see rows of empty desks, with one man at the desk in the corner, and that man making a personal phone call.

Jason leans forward in his desk chair at the Moryana office. Done with all his Thursday afternoon meetings, ready to go. Check email. Nothing that can't wait. Check Slack. Nothing that can't wait. He picks up his laptop, picks up his water bottle, and gets into the truck. He looks down: one text. "Love you, babe. Have fun tonight".

Parking is expensive as anything in this city, maybe the worst thing about San Francisco. He finally finds a spot in a garage, walks out, passes the bent-over men, almost folded in half from fentanyl, and enters the home of his coding bootcamp. Six floors up to the alumni lounge, and he takes the stairs.

From two floors down, he hears the music already: "Live a life of luxury, if that's what you want… Taste forbidden pleasures, whatever you want".

Talking to M., J., A., and the rest of them. Job here, marriage there. One beer, maybe a second. He looks out the window. It's already dark. Might be time for him to go.

He literally runs into someone standing by one of the bollards on the street. "Hey man, do you have a cigarette?". So happens, Jason does. "Hey, what's your name?" "Jason" "Ahmet".

The first puffs pass in silence. Ahmet speaks first: "What brings you South of Market?". "Alumni reunion for the coding bootcamp." "Coding? Where do you work? Facebook? Google?" "Moryana". Ahmet's looks up. "Moryana? You're not going to believe this…" And at that point, Ahmet tells him a story that Jason never expected to hear.

In Ahmet's telling, he was employee number 3 and the first engineer at Moryana. The salary was enough to live on -in fact, any current engineer at Moryana would make more-, but a large equity grant made up for it. But there came a point when they were working like crazy to get something in the hands of one of their biggest customers, at a time when Moryana really didn't have many customers at all. A disagreement about tactics escalated, and there might have been some interpersonal stuff that got in the way, too. (At least, Jason guesses as much from Ahmet's narrative. Ahmet, understandably wasn't too forthcoming about the personal details.) He lasted about three years and then moved on to the next seed-stage startup. The telling of Ahmet's story takes the two of them south, into the Mission.

Climbing up the grass in Dolores Park, and a man standing by a tree sees them and waves them over. He is short, shorter than Jason, shorter than Ahmet, too, although not by much. His hair is short and spiky and looks bleached, and there's a strange look in his eyes. The stranger holds out his hand, and there's something in it. "Do you want any of this?" "What is it?" "Heart's desire. Hey, what's your name?" "Ahmet". "Jason". "Call it golden fleece, then!" "Original". "What's your name? 'Heart's desire', where are you from?" The man smiles. "My name wouldn't mean anything to you. I come from the place where you don't grow old", and Jason thinks that with hair like his, he really wouldn't look out of place in LA. He opens his hand, revealing what looks like a pill, and the blonde man says " What do you say? Let me ask you: do you ever have dreams these days?" Jason looks over at Ahmet, and Ahmet seems pretty intent on the pill in the stranger's hand. Jason looks down at his phone, remembers he's supposed to take his daughter out this weekend. The moment passes. He raises his eyebrows, and shakes his head. "You stay, if you want. Nice meeting you!"

Friday morning, he gets in the truck, turns on the radio on the way to work. Dead body south of Market, stabbed and bled out, and, although Jason can't remember where he heard this and he doesn't think it was in the police report, the dead man was supposed to have been a very early employee at Moryana.

[husbandohunter]

Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Albedo's despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps

(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫

_______________________________________________

The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.

It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.

Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.

So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.

"Master Diluc..."

Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."

"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."

Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.

"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."

Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.

Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.

Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."

"You're just going to leave her here?"

There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.

It was his concern.

-------

A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?

"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.

The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.

Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.

"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."

The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."

"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."

Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."

The pen slows into a halt.

No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.

"Fine, but I'm not eating that."

"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."

He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.

People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.

Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.

I should have pushed you away.

Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.

Then you'd still be-

Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.

She needs you to focus.

The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."

His reaction was immediate, "Where?"

"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"

"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."

Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."

"..."

"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."

"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."

"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."

"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."

The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.

-------

The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.

Diluc was tired, so tired.

He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?

In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.

"Diluc."

He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.

"Diluc."

"I'm sorry..."

The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?

"Diluc."

"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.

"Diluc, I'm here."

"Stop..."

"Diluc..."

He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.

And screamed.

Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.

He wanted you.

"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."

For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.

Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.

[benditlikepress]

one good movie kiss

here for @sunforgrace 's thesis statement: give dean one good movie kiss and he WILL be alright

“Are you avoiding me?”

Dean’s hand stills in the air above his cup of coffee as the voice cuts through the kitchen.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room in an ill-fitting sweater and his hair is dishevelled as though he’s been tossing and turning. He looks so unremarkable, so human, it makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat at the reminder.

It’s been three days since Cas got back and it occurs to Dean when he speaks that it’s the first time they’ve been alone together. Awake, that is: Dean realised early on that difficult conversations couldn’t happen if you’re asleep. Thank god for Cas’ Empty-rescue hangover.

“No. I’m not avoiding you.”

“OK. Good. I was worried that after what happened things might be weird between us, but I suppose that’s unavoidable.” Cas pulls a face that’s a little self-deprecating.

I’m fighting the urge to run the hell away from you, Dean thinks. To stay the hell away from you before I do anything else to hurt you. Before you make a reckless decision to save me, again, or say something so brutal and true that my legs give out from under me and I’m left sitting alone on the floor wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do this on my own.

I’m fighting the urge to wrap you in my arms and never let go.

“I’m not avoiding you, Cas. I just.. I’m trying to figure out the stuff I have to say to you.”

“I understand. I know everything that’s happened recently is a lot to contend with.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement.” Dean coughs and stands up, tapping his hands against his legs for something to do. Cas is looking at him expectantly and Dean knows he deserves answers but how is he supposed to do that? How do you even begin to explain to someone that their mere presence in the room has your breath hitching? “But it’s not.. you. It’s not you I’m avoiding. It’s just. Y’know. The stuff you said before you..” He doesn’t say it. He can’t. Cas blinks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. That’s – god, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just.. trying to get my head around it.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did. I know that. I just.. I believe you, and nobody’s ever really said that stuff to me and meant it before. So I don’t really know how to talk to you about it. But I.. so long as you know I appreciate it.” The words are too fast and Dean doesn’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than the way he’s stumbling, pathetic half-words forcing their way out of his mouth.

“OK.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And it’s that simple to him, apparently. He doesn’t ask Dean for anything else. It pisses Dean off, actually – he wants Cas to ask him. Maybe if he’s forced to confront it the words might come out a little easier.

“I mean, you know that I.” Dean stops again abruptly and jesus christ why is there a lump in his throat? “It means something. To me. It means a whole lot, actually. Maybe if it didn’t it’d be easier to talk about. There’s stuff that I wanna.. stuff I need for you to hear. That you deserve to hear, when I get my head out of my ass. Because I don’t feel like I deserve any of that crap you said to me, but you deserve to hear things back.”

It feels like a monumental admission but it’s clearly not the thing on Cas’ mind as he frowns.

“You think you don’t deserve that? You really believe that?”

“Honestly? I’ve never believed it. I don’t know why you give me the time of day half the time, man. And you don’t have to.. argue about it, or anything. I know you want to. It’s just how I see it.”

Cas thinks about that for a couple of seconds, eyes boring into Dean so deeply he half-wonders if he can’t still see his soul. He walks further into the room but doesn’t approach Dean – not really. Just takes a couple of steps between the distance.

“I won’t argue. Not now. But I hope I can make you understand that you deserve it. Happiness, peace.. love-” The word has Dean’s mind reeling, flashbacks and heat rushing “– I spent a long time believing I couldn’t accept them for myself. I thought too much had happened, or that I wasn’t built to be capable. You allowed me to think differently. I want you to do the same.” Cas looks down and taps his hand on the edge of the table as though he hasn’t got Dean’s heart in the palm of it. He looks up again and his expression is breath-takingly earnest. “Dean, the things I said barely touch the sides. I don’t know if I could ever put into words the impact you’ve had on me since we met. I just wanted you to understand. I needed you to understand how other people see you, even if you can’t see it for yourself.”

“Message received.” Dean responds like a fucking asshole but Cas smiles all the same, warm and knowing and in a way that fills Dean with the relief of being understood.

“I can give you space to think about things if that’s what you want. I know I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

“It’s not difficult. Probably not for anyone else except me.”

Dean smiles in derision and Cas returns it but it’s pity and sadness and love and Dean’s mouth closes. “It was difficult. I threw things at you that’d been on my mind for a long time and didn’t give you any time to process it.”

“I’ve had weeks. Weeks and weeks, and I still can’t.. I think until I saw you again I had no idea how to understand it. Looking you in the eye and thinking about it-” Dean closes his eyes and pushes away black ooze and secrets and everything else that threatens to flow over the things he wants to remember. Tears in Cas’ eyes and his smile so bright, brighter than Dean even thought him capable.

He’s looking at him now like he might break.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m not-”

“I know exactly what you are, Dean.” The words are clear and sincere and Dean wonders if there’s anyone else in the universe capable of arresting him so simply. “I’ll leave you to it.” Cas eventually nods at Dean’s breakfast and smiles, dipping his head as he starts to leave.

“We’ll talk. We will.”

“I know we will.” He smiles a little as he turns to walk away and suddenly Dean’s heart is in his mouth at the sight of the back of his head.

Say something. Say something.

“Cas.” Dean calls too quickly, too desperately, and when he turns to look at him with naked expectation all of the wind is knocked right back out of his sails. “I… fuck, Cas. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiles with complete and utter sincerity, and god he has to stop doing that. Stop accepting Dean’s bullshit as though it’s nothing. Shout, argue, anything.

He’s leaving. He’s still leaving, he’s turning away and suddenly Dean’s legs are propelling him through the kitchen of their own accord.

Dean grabs his arm and yanks him around, the force of it making Cas briefly stumble a little before he straightens his feet and looks at Dean with a wide-eyed confusion that makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Dean brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face around his ears on his neck and jaw, in a way he has before and convinced himself wasn’t ever possible when they weren’t battling life or death. Cas’ stubble is a little longer than usual and he strokes the line of it with his thumb, watching as Cas’ mouth falls open just a touch in the echoing silence.

Dean takes his time, registering every mini-movement of expression in Cas’ face as he understands what’s happening. His hand comes up to Dean’s wrist but doesn’t push it away, rather grips it for dear life as though he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. When Cas’ eyes travel down his face Dean takes it as invitation and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips lightly but surely against Cas’.

At first Cas’ are stunned frozen against his and Dean starts to panic that he’s made some kind of earth-shattering error in judgement before the hand on his wrist relaxes and he feels a pressure against his mouth. Cas’ lips are a little chapped, like always, and Dean feels his eyelashes flutter.

He opens his eyes reluctantly as he pulls away, not sure what he’s expecting to see (rejection? Lucifer? nothing at all?) and almost slams them shut again when he finds Cas peering at him with such utter arresting devotion he thinks his knees might buckle.

Dean’s hands drop to his sides of their own accord, suddenly absolutely terrified, but Cas doesn’t move away in return. In fact, he brings his hand to Dean’s cheek and Dean’s sure he must look like a fish opening and closing his mouth in stunned silence before suddenly Cas moves in to kiss him again, other hand coming up to grab his face and hold him in place as his lips are ferocious and impassioned against his own.

And this, this is more like it, Dean’s barely able to think as Cas’ mouth opens and his tongue plays along the line of Dean’s own lips, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears a noise in Cas’ throat as he allows him entrance.

Cas kisses like he’s never going to get another chance: like Dean has granted him a once-in-a-lifetime wish that’s going to get taken away at any moment. He’s hungry and sharp and warm and Dean feels breathless as he lowers his hands from his face to his neck and then to his hip, pulling Dean sharply against him as Dean’s own hands cup his jaw and try desperately to gain a semblance of control.

There’s stubble scratching his face and he tries fleetingly to explain away the flushing burn on his skin as a by-product of it, but then there’s a hand riding up his shirt onto on the bare skin at the small of his back and it’s on fire.

Where the hell did Cas learn to kiss like this? His head is spinning before he can ponder the question and fingers on his back are steady and grounding even as Cas’ tongue and lips and breath have him practically able to feel the earth spinning beneath him.  

The kiss slows steadily and then all at once as Cas’ lips lighten against his, and he feels him exhale against his skin in a release that Dean himself is desperate for. He knows it’ll come, eventually: in every moment he allows himself to open like this, touch on his skin making him feel alive.

Cas pulls away and Dean feels a longing form deeply and harshly in his throat that barely stops him from yanking him straight back in again. He forces himself to open his eyes, wondering if Cas can see water pricking in the corners of them.

“Don’t give me space, Cas. I don’t want it.” He manages to say though his voice sounds foreign and weird to his own ears, like it’s formed by someone else. There’s that smile on Cas’ lips again and he feels a desperation to say something, anything, that’ll keep it frozen in time. “Just stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.” Cas’ own voice is quiet now and Dean’s fingers somehow find themselves reaching out towards Cas’ hand, pulling it a little.

“You wanna do something today?” He says, just for something to say. Anything to prolong the moment.

“OK.”

“Sweet.” Dean nods and tips his head away, running a hand through his hair to try to gain some composure as Cas smiles at him as though nothing’s happened.

Dean has to pinch himself to check that it has.

[indiee19]

Coax Me Out Of My Low

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: You comfort (Humbug!) Alex

warnings: insecurities, slightly suggestive

Word count: 1629

A/N: not really a big fan of this one, but it’ll do. Also, I haven’t proof read it soooo

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You stood in the kitchen, snacking on some chips, wondering when Alex would be home. You missed him a lot, even if he was only gone for a day.

Without him home there really was nothing for you to do to pass the time quickly. The only things that seemed to pass the time to some extent was to either eat your heart out or to sleep. Not that you minded doing those things, but you would get bored just sitting, eating, sleeping, watch tv, repeat.

The door opening and closing snapped you out of your thoughts, Alex was finally home.

You put your nearly empty family sized bag of chips, that you didn't mean to nearly finish in an hour, down and walked over to Alex who was taking off his shoes and jacket.

His hair looked ever so amazing, long, fluffy, and soft. You would run your fingers through forever if you could. His white button up untucked from his trousers as normal, two buttons undone at the top. His trousers perfectly accentuating his slim figure. Nearly the same Alex that you saw everyday. Except for one thing, his smile was gone. Normally he would come home with this big beautiful smile that could cheer anyone up on any bad day. But, not today.

"Hey, Alex, how was your day?" You asked, hopefully to figure out what was wrong with him at the moment. He hesitantly replied, "Yeah, love, it was - it was good. Just like yesterday and all the other days before."

He walked past you, normally he would give you a kiss after not seeing you the whole day but he barely acknowledged you now.

You started to wonder if you had done something to upset him, that could be the only reason he was being like this, right?

You walked into the living room to see if he was there, he wasn't. That's when you heard the shower running upstairs. You decided not to go up there for privacy reasons and for him to have some space, alone time.

Forty-five minutes passed before the shower had stopped. When he didn't come down immediately you assumed that he was drying his hair with the new hairdryer that you'd just bought for yourself and occasionally, him. But, the dryer sound didn't echo through the house like it normally did which led you to two conclusions. That one, he didn't wash his hair since you're not supposed to do it every night and he washed it the previous night, or two, he didn't care about it being dry at the moment.

You decided to go upstairs, looking in the bathroom to find him laying on your side of the bed on his back, left arm by his side the other on his stomach, hair dry just like your first thought.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him. "You alright, Al?" You questioned him, rubbing his arm comfortingly. He was dressed for bed in only his sweatpants.

"Yes," he said nonchalantly, not looking at you or acknowledging you beyond that.

"Are you sure, because you didn't seem like it when you got home," you questioned him further, taking his right hand in yours, trying to interlock fingers with him.

He didn't answer you nor interlock his fingers, pulling his hand away from your. "Al," you said, trying to get him to talk to you.

"Alex, Alexander, please answer me, I just want to know if you're-" you tried to say but he cut you off.

"I'm fine alright, now go!" He yelled, motioning his hand for you to leave the room.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes and got up, walking out of your bedroom. He had never yelled at you before which made you all the more confused. You walked to the guest bedroom, which was just down the hall from yours and Alex's bedroom, locked the door, laid down on the bed, hoping that Alex would calm down.

You laid there for a few minutes, you tried to take a nap, hoping that you could forget what had happened, but when you tried to, Alex knocked on the door. "Love, will you - will you let me in, please?" He asked from outside.

"Are you going to yell at me again?" You said under your breath, thinking that he wouldn't hear you, but he did. "Love, please. I'm sorry for yelling. Just let me in and we'll talk," he replied.

You scoffed and sat up, walking to the door and unlocking it to be met with Alex's big, adorable chocolate brown doe eyes. You walked back to the bed and sat on it crossed legged. Alex sat down beside you, pulling you in for a small hug, kissing your head.

"I'm so, so sorry for yelling at you, love," he said, pulling you closer to him. "When I saw that you 'ad tears in your eyes, I knew I did summat wrong."

"Did I do something wrong?" You questioned, looking up at him. He shook his head, "No, love."

"Then why are you acting like this? You've never yelled at me, you always tell me about things. Tell me what's wrong, baby," you replied, pushing some hair back that had fallen into his eyes.

"I-I don't - it's just. . . . . it just feels like I'm not good enough, you know. It feels like I can't do anything. Feels like I can't write fucking songs. I-I mean I can write songs, but they're all absolute shite, he explained. "And sometimes I feel as if I'm not good enough for you and that one day while I'm at the studio or while I'm on tour, you'll meet this better looking guy and you'll pack up and leave without telling me and I'll come home to an empty house."

You could've cried at the words he was saying, you would never leave him why would he think that? And his songs were most definitely not shite. "Oh, baby, come here," you said, hugging him tightly, his head buried in the crook of your neck. You kept hearing him mumble things but couldn't quite make them out.

He laid down and you followed, cuddling up to his side. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You asked after a while, slightly sitting up. Right now you would literally do anything to make him happy. "I don't know. I just really need motivation, I guess," he replied.

You thought for a moment, an idea coming to you not long after.

"I could be your motivation," you suggested, hoping that would work. "No, I couldn't do that to you," he said.

"But I want to. Please, for me," you insisted, batting your eyes at him, knowing that he couldn't resist you whenever you did that. "Fine, but just this once," he sighed. You smiled and sat on him to be situated in his lap. His hand came up to the zipper on the jacket you were wearing and slowly pulled it down, helping you take it off once he was down with the zipper, leaving you in your tank top.

You leaned down to kiss him, moving from his lips, to his jaw, then after pushing back his hair, his neck, choosing a spot and lightly sucking on it, staring a hickey. Once you were sure that a bruise had formed, you sat up to take off your shirt. But when you sat up, you noticed that Alex had tears in his eyes.

"Al, are you okay? Baby?" You quizzed, wiping the few tears that had rolled down his face. You moved off of him, bringing him in for a hug. He buried his head I your chest, letting all of the tears go. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cried, holding you tighter.

"For what, Al?" You asked, just wanting him to be okay. "For not spending more time with you, a-and not not being the best boyfriend, and taking you for granted," he said, crying even more.

"Alex, listen to me," you stated, he looked up at you, his eyes red, his cheeks stained with tears. "You're an amazing boyfriend, you can't help that you have a busy schedule and you spend as much time with me as you can, and you don't take me for granted. You always do whatever it takes to cheer me up and you make me feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world," you explained to him, wiping his tears for hopefully the last time today.

"Thank you for that, love," he said, burying his head back into your chest. "Is there anything else I can do?" You asked. He replied saying something along the lines of 'just hold me for now.'

A few minutes later you decided to get up, lightly pushing Alex off of you. Once you were standing up, you turned around to see a confused and still slightly sad Alex. Looking at you with those big doe eyes he asked, "Where are you going, love?"

"Let's go lay down in our bedroom, okay?" You stated, holding your hand out for him to grab. "Okay," he nodded, grabbing your hand. You both walked down the hallway to your bedroom. Alex went to go lay down on the bed, confused again about why you didn't join him in the bed. He quickly found out though whenever you changed into his white, long sleeved shirt that he wore the previous day.

You walked to the bed and crawled under the covers with Alex right beside you, wrapping an arm across your stomach, kissing your collarbone lightly. "Goodnight, love. I love you so much," he said, now happier but sleepily. "Goodnight, Al. I love you too."

[lovelyminnieee]

Without you- J.J.H

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Car accident mentions, mentions of death, father!Jaehyun, Coma, mentions of losing a loved one

Summary: Jaehyun doesn't want to deal with life anymore. Without you there to hug him, or tell him it was okay to cry, he didn't want to even come home, unless it was for his daughter. He missed you, so much he could go crazy. Maybe you will never come back, he hasn't lost hope yet. Will you be able to comeback to him and your daughter's lives again?

A/n: this is my first fic on my account, feedbacks would be deeply appreciated. Uh, I am a little nervous to post it, but please do give me feedbacks. And the paragraphs written in italics are memories

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It's been 3 years. Three years without you. There wasn't one day where he didn't think of you. Your daughter and the way she reminds him of you. He's tired of it, tired of life. Without you there to comfort him, tell him it's okay to cry, he's tired.

"Eun ha, we have to get to school!" Jaehyun shouts from one end of the apartment, packing her lunch. "Coming daddy!" His daughter waddles over to him, struggling to put her shoes on. "Let me do it," Jaehyun said as he picked her up and put her on the table. He smiles as he puts her shoes on quickly, placing her down after. "Let's go, okay baby?" Jaehyun holds her little hand, her bag in his other hand.

Jaehyun opened the door to the apartment and sighed. An empty home was not really welcoming. You weren't there to hug him, tell him that you love him. His habits haven't changed, he sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone.

"I miss you so fucking much..."

He texted your number. He missed you so much, he was going crazy. He closed his eyes, trying to hold tears bay. He sent you a picture of Eun ha in her dress up outfit. Like a princess.

"Look at Eun ha, she looks so pretty. Just like you baby"

His fingers type, the memories flooding in. He took you for granted while you were there, and that is the thing he regrets the most in life. 

"I understand, but you can't just ignore me like that, Jae," you said, angry. He was ignoring you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. He said it was because of work, but he wasn't there at work during work hours. "No Jae, you're not working, you're somewhere else during work hours," you said, your eyes staring at him. Jaehyun paused for a minute, speechless. He was preparing something special for you, and that was the reason. "I- I was-" Jaehyun sighed. You were getting on his nerves. "Y/n, just leave me alone. You don't understand," he said and walked away, frustrated at your behaviour. You didn't know why you got angry so quickly, you were usually so calm and collected during arguments. "So now you want me to leave you alone?" You scoffed. Jaehyun turned around and stared at you. "Isn't that what I just said?" He stares back at you. "So it's completely okay for you to go out during work hours? And ignore me when you come home? What the fuck, Jae?" You raised your voice a little. "Can you not right now? I'm frustrated, Y/n." Jaehyun tried to keep his cool. "Jae, I've been dealing with so many things, do you think you're the only one who deals with stress?" You ask him, tears swelling in your eyes. Jaehyun closed his eyes, trying to stay collected. Maybe you had a reason to be mad this quick. "You might as well be cheating on me, or lying to me. And what not-"

"WHY ARE YOU BEING LIKE THIS Y/N?-"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO TELL YOU I WAS PREGNANT, JAE!"

Jaehyun went silent. His heart pounded in his chest at the news. Well, that certainly wasn't a good way to release the news. She was pregnant? He thought.

"You're what?"

"You know what, nevermind," you walked away, wiping your tears. Jaehyun ran up to you and hugged you from behind. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jaehyun whispered, kissing your neck softly. "I'm hurt, Jae." You whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm so sorry," he said, his hands softly resting over your tummy. Jaehyun's face ceased into a smile, continuing to press his lips against your neck. "I'm going to be a father," Jaehyun's eyes teared up as he twirled you around and kissed you softly. Everything felt unreal at that moment. He was going to be a dad. His heart swelled in happiness, pulling your waist closer to him.

"I'm so sorry about everything. I love you so much"

He pressed the send button, his eyes tearing up.

"Please come back to me, to Eun ha"

Tears ran down his cheeks and his world darkened again. Three years of torture. Three years without you. He doesn't know how he's going to manage. He shifted on the couch, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. "I miss you so much, Y/N." He whispered, holding his tears in. He had to visit you at the hospital soon, so he put his emotions aside for a moment and got up. He walked to his room and changed in a few minutes, grabbing his bag and walking out the door.

"Hi baby, I'm here," he whispers softly, walking closer to your bed. Your parents had been taking care of you for the past two days because he was busy, but now that he's here, he wants to tell you everything. He knows you're listening, unable to talk. "How are you, love? Is everything okay? Does it hurt?" He asks, gently caressing your hands. He misses your whiny self. Whatever he said, the room was so silent when it was supposed to be filled with your sweet voice. He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to hold in his emotions. "I miss you so much," his voice comes out as a broken whisper. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do this without you, please come back, I'm sorry," he cries, holding your hand close to him. Jaehyun remembers the day the accident happened.

"I'll meet you at home, babe. I love you," he said, cutting the call with a smile on his face. "You make me feel so single," Johnny whispers from his work desk, sighing. "Come on, John. You can bag girls if you try," Jaehyun chuckled as he put on his jacket. "Lucky, you get to go home early while I'm stuck with hyuck, great." Johnny rolls his eyes. Jaehyun just chuckles, walking out of his shared office space.

"So, how was work today?" Jaehyun asked, his eyes focused on the road. "Bad, all that man had to say was I did a bad job and screamed at me. The audacity," you scoffed on the other side of the phone. "Which man? The manager or the CEO?"

"Of course it has to be the manager. He's so annoying I swear," you sighed.

"Oh well, I'll ask him to shut the fuck up next time so he won't annoy you, okay?"

"Ew that was so cheesy, Jae," you cringed behind the phone. Before Jaehyun could even process your reply, loud crashes and screams were heard. He called for you repeatedly, only to realise that you weren't replying.

"I'm so sorry, if I hadn't distracted you, you would still be here for me." Jaehyun cries hard. He looks up at you to see tears running down the side of your face. "Sssh, don't cry," he said, wiping your tears and letting his hand rest on your face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his heart hurting at the sight of you. You laid in the bed, limp and pale. "Hey, you know..." He sniffled. "I met your manager on my way here today," he smiled, trying to get the mood better.

"And then, she was trying to write C, but Eun ha wrote it like it was mirrored," Jaehyun giggles softly, his hand still caressing yours. Your hands felt warm to him, and it was the best thing in the world to him. Just as he was about to let the unknown tears in his eyes fall, he felt something. He felt your hand move. His gaze snapped to your hands, which once moved. "Baby, can you do that again for me?" He says hastily, trying not to cry. And he sees a movement, yet again. "Wait for me, I'll go get the doctors, okay?" He says and hurries out of the room, holding himself together. He will come apart any second, but now was not the time.

Doctors rush in and out of the room as Jaehyun watches from the side, tears falling. He had called his mother and asked her to pick Eun ha up from school, just so that he can stay with you longer. "Mr. Jeong?" The doctor called. Jaehyun's cloudy gaze snapped to the doctor, hurrying over to the man. His first clenches in the anticipation of the news as the doctor smiles. "This is the first time I've seen something like this. Her senses are responding to the tests, after a full three years." The doctor tells him. "Is that good?" Jaehyun askes, sniffling. "Yes. Mrs. Jeong's health seems to be progressing so much more than the last three years, she has a higher chance of recovering from the coma for a week or so," Dr. Cho assures him, patting him on the shoulder before he leaves. Jaehyun stares at you for a moment before he comes closer to you. "Hey baby, you're gonna come back to me and Eun ha, aren't you?" Jaehyun asks softly, tears welling in his eyes yet again. "You will, I know it." He kissed your forehead again.

The hopeful week was crucial. Jaehyun visits you everyday of the week with Eun ha, trying his best to make you happy. He'd give his life up for you because what he and his daughter needed the most during this time was you. He had to go to work nevertheless, but you would never be left without a visitor. Mostly being his or your parents and your kid, or him and Eun ha. He was hopeful until the last day of the week rolled over, and he got a call from the doctor.

"Mr. Jeong, I need to talk to you as fast as possible."

"Is there a problem, Dr. Cho?"

He hears a sigh from the other side that sends fear through him.

"We need to talk as fast as possible. Can you make it to the hospital now?"

"Of course, give me 30 minutes, doc,"

Jaehyun cut the call, panic settling within him.

"Johnny, please take care of this document for me. I just got a call from Dr. Cho. I need to go, okay?"

"Yes sir, don't worry about it,"

Johnny said, gesturing to him to hurry on his way. Jaehyun rushed out of the building, getting into his car in no time. In fifteen minutes, he was there at the hospital. He found the same office he's been visiting for the last three years in a couple of minutes, panting as he barged in through the door.

"I was expecting you, Mr. Jeong," Dr. Cho said, sitting upright. He had a bad feeling about what he was going to hear. "I need you to sit down and take a deep breath," the doctor said, sympathy marked in his eyes. Jaehyun sat down hesitatingly, staring at the doctor.

"Would you like something to drink or...?"

"Cut the crap, Dr. Cho,"

Jaehyun snapped. The man just sighed, looking him in the eye. "Your wife, Mrs. Jeong, was pronounced brain dead over 20 minute ago. She had a stroke which caused the brain to stop working," Jaehyun's broken world came crashing down in a few seconds as soon as he heard the news.

"What?"

"Sir, you need to calm-"

"No no no, she hasn't died yet. She can't die yet. You said she was making steady progress, YOU SAID SHE MIGHT WAKE UP, WHY CHANGE YOUR WORDS NOW?!" Jaehyun asked, tears running down his cheeks.

"Jaehyun, listen. It was a stroke that prompted brain death. We can keep her on a machine which pumps oxygen onto her organs which will keep her warm, but it won't do anything,"

"Can you step out for a minute?" Jaehyun asked him, his voice soft. "Of course," the doctor said, moving on his way out.

Jaehyun takes in the news, tears pouring out of his eyes. All he asked for was you and God denied. Great, he hopes that he at least gets to see you one last time. He stepped out of the doctor's office with red eyes and nose. "Can I see her for the last time?" Jaehyun requests, to which the doctor agrees. Tears kept flowing on his way to the room, wiping then with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Go on in," the doctor says, gesturing at the door. Jaehyun holds onto the handle and hesitates before sliding the door open. He keeps his eyes locked on to the floor and when he does lift his eyes, surprise strikes him. You were up, alive and well. Jaehyun blinks before wiping his eyes and looking again. "Jae..." His name rolls off your tongue, bringing him back to earth. He didn't say anything, but he rushed to you and engulfed you in a big hug. He held you close to him, not letting go. It's not like you wanted to let go either. "Jae..." You said, letting your head rest on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him tightly. "I missed you so much," he whispered, breaking into tears again. "God, you're so warm. I missed this so much," you say softly. He missed your voice so much. Jaehyun pulls back gently and stares at your famished face, wiping your tears. "I love you so much, so much," he said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your tears ran down again, you missed him so much.

"So what was that?" Jaehyun questions the doctor, glaring at him. "Well uh, your wife had a special request," the doctor smiles, looking away after. "Cho Si-hyeon, I will smack you," he glares, shooting lasers through his eyes. "Hey! Yell at her, not me!" Si-hyeon, his fellow classmate who was a year older than him exclaimed, pointing at you. "No," Jaehyun said, kissing you all over your face as you giggled softly. "She needs to get physiotherapy for her legs and you can go home after," Si-hyeon says, watching them both enjoy each other's presence. "Mhm, 'kay. What else?" Jaehyun said, his gaze fixed on you. "This is disgusting. Bye, I can't stand it," Si-hyeon scrunched his face, leaving the room. "Tsk, he's just jealous that I have such a pretty wife," Jaehyun says and places a small kiss on your lips. "Oh well," you whispered, pulling him into a soft and we'll needed kiss, for both.

❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎❄︎

Taglist: @sparklysung @trying-to-love-myself

[ifmywishescametrue]

"You didn't deserve that... You deserve so much better." for buckytony pls 🤓

thank you for sending one! it got kind of out of hand lol so here's 2.2k of breaking up and making up. hope you like it!

Tony loses track of what the fight is about fairly quickly. He knows it started with what seemed like playful bickering, the kind their relationship was practically built on, but somewhere along the way the jabs turned much more pointed. Barbed wire wrapped around them, until each one was like a knife wound.

The first real cut came from him, he knows. Bucky's witty comment hit a little too close to one of his hundred insecurities, and reflex made him return it with too much sharpness. He can't blame Bucky for reacting, but they're both to blame for letting it get this out of hand. That’s not something that matters in the moment, though.

In the moment, all that matters is the careless insults and merciless words they lob back and forth. They chip away at each other and their relationship until it’s crumbling around them, but even that doesn’t matter. It becomes secondary to getting in the last word and one-upmanship, like it’s a competition for who can hurt who the most that they both desperately want to win, consequences be damned.

“You know this is why people keep leaving you,” Bucky says. “At some point it should be pretty damn obvious that it's you, not them.”

Tony laughs bitterly because the only other choice is crying. “Cause you're a real fucking prize, right? Bet people are just lining up to date a guy they're barely allowed to touch. And God forbid you ever try to do something nice for him, because it'll never actually be right.”

“Better than a guy with daddy issues so severe it'll take him two years to even tell you he loves you. Don't bother saying it in the meantime to him either, because he'll run off to hide for a week after each time.”

“Well, you know what, I'll make it easy for you, then,” Tony says, backing away to grab his jacket. “You don't have to worry about me and all my issues anymore.”

He forcefully shoves his arms into the sleeves and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. Bucky watches with a clenched jaw and doesn't try to stop him, not even when he pauses to give him the chance.

“What are you waiting for? Go ahead and run off. Prove my point.”

Tony shakes his head, an ache already forming in his chest that he ignores. “I’m not proving your point, because this isn’t running. This is breaking up with you because you’re a fucking asshole.”

He lets the door slam shut behind him and speedwalks down the hall, repeatedly pushing the elevator button. It doesn’t come quickly enough, and he flings open the door to the stairwell to rush down them. His vision blurs dangerously, and he can hardly see where he’s going, but he doesn’t slow down. The tears come freely with no around to see, until he’s out on the sidewalk and violently swipes them away with the back of his hand. He doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking, only on getting as far away as possible.

Where he ends up shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. It’s muscle memory to come here at this point, a walk so familiar he could do it in his sleep and still manage to avoid all the cracks and uneven parts on the sidewalk on the way.

He stands outside of Shield’s Bar, neon lights coloring his face blue and pink, and he contemplates going in. It’s a Thursday, which means Clint is working the bar until midnight. Natasha will be waiting tables, and Steve will come in to replace her at ten.

All Bucky’s friends. He won’t get any of them in the breakup.

Steve will be the first to turn his back on him with his unwavering loyalty to his best friend. Clint will follow next because he hates tension and it’s the easier side to take. Natasha will be last, and she’ll claim that she loves them both and choosing sides is childish and ridiculous. But she’ll go, too, eventually. When none of her other friends will be in the same room as him, and all of their usual hangout spots become off limits. It’ll grow awkward and uncomfortable until promises to meet up turn into vague excuses and texts spaced months apart.

But where does he have to go if it isn’t here?

Rhodey’s on base in California, and Pepper moved back to New York the second her business degree was done. Staying in Boston was never the plan, not until Bucky and his found family welcomed him into their lives and made it feel like home. Where is there to go if home isn’t an option anymore?

He stands there long enough that people start to whisper as they pass by. They must think he’s lost his mind, staring blankly at a brick wall and hardly blinking, but he doesn’t hear what they say. Doesn’t hear anything but his own thoughts running in circles, going from anger to regret to shame and back again.

He wonders if Bucky’s right. If he truly is the reason it never works out. He knows he’s too insecure and emotionally unavailable. He demands too much and gives too little in return and doesn’t know how to communicate.

He used to watch his parents fight, orbiting around each other with avoidance and unspoken words until the dams broke and silence turned to screams, and he would swear that he would be better. If he was lucky enough to be in love with someone and have them love him in return, he would understand just how rare and beautiful that is and never take it for granted.

Easier said than done. Harder to face the fact that sometimes his words sound exactly like his father’s once did and sometimes he feels like his mother when he quietly lets himself be walked on and overlooked. The worst of both of them is tangled up inside of him, and it always kills whatever he touches.

Natasha finds him there eventually. She opens the door roughly, with intention that falters momentarily before she asks, “Do you plan on coming in at some point or are you staying out here all night?”

“I should probably go,” he says, quietly enough that it’s nearly lost to the wind.

Natasha watches him for a long moment, then steps out of the doorway to take his hand. She leads him over to an empty booth and slides into the opposite side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

She shrugs, “Steve will be here in a few minutes. No one’s going to die if they have to wait for their beer.”

Silence stretches on, and he stares down at his hands on the table. It’s warmer inside the bar, and he doesn’t realize that the cold has turned his fingers numb until they begin to unthaw.

“People coming in here were talking about some guy loitering outside. Some were saying he looked sad, some said lost. A few less optimistic people voted for strung out on drugs, but I think it’s safe to rule that one out now. Same with lost, seeing as you’ve been here a thousand times. That leaves sad, which means you had a fight with Bucky, and you didn’t come in, which means you think it’s your fault. Am I right so far?”

Tony nods, hanging his head low, and she continues to ask, “Do you want to talk about it or drink about it?”

“We broke up,” Tony mumbles. “I did it.”

She takes a long breath, and her hand is warm when it slips back into his. “Are you planning on fixing it?”

“Not sure it’s fixable. I said some things, he said some things. Can’t really take any of it back now.”

“People say things they don’t mean all the time. Doesn’t make it unforgivable.”

He shrugs like his heart isn’t broken. “Maybe it’s better off this way.”

Natasha sighs, “Tony.”

“What?”

“Go home.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have one of those anymore.”

“Of course you do,” she says softly. “I promise you that he wants you to come back.”

Tony shakes his head. “You weren’t there, Nat. You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened to know that he wants you to come home. If he feels even half as terrible as you look, he wants you. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s only over if you don’t go back.”

Tony bites his lip to keep it from quivering, and he asks, “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Well, it can’t exactly make things worse, can it?”

He huffs a humorless laugh, “I guess not.”

Natasha slides out of the booth, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go home before he comes out looking for you, and text me in the morning to tell me I was right.”

She walks away, greeting Steve as he comes in, and Tony lingers there for another minute before getting up. He waves to them both on his way out and tries not to think about what she’ll tell Steve about his reason for being there.

The walk back to his and Bucky’s apartment seems quicker than the walk away from it, and Tony resents it for not giving him more time.

He takes the stairs again and hesitates outside the door, what ifs overwhelming his mind. What if he walks in and all of his things are packed up for him? What if Bucky isn’t even there or all of his belongings are gone instead? What if he can’t fix it and this is where it really ends? He doesn’t know if he could recover from that.

Turning the key in the lock, he opens the door slowly and holds his breath in trepidation.

Nothing looks different. No packed boxes, no smashed picture frames, no sign that anything ever went wrong.

Bucky is on the couch, curled into the corner with his legs held tight to his chest, and he doesn’t seem to notice that he isn’t alone anymore. It’s painfully quiet, and the single light that was on before isn’t enough now that it's grown darker outside, but he hasn’t turned any others on.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says into the silence. It’s as good a place as any to start. “You didn't deserve that. Any of it. The whole stupid thing. You deserve so much better. I should be better at this, but I’ve done a real shit job of it lately, I think. Maybe not even lately. Maybe I’ve been a terrible boyfriend the whole time, and in that case you should probably tell me to go and not come back, but I’d like to think there were at least moments where I was sort of okay, and I’d like to try to be more than just okay if you’ll let me.”

Bucky stares at him, lips parted and red-rimmed eyes unblinking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tony freezes, unsure of how to answer that, and Bucky unfolds himself to walk over and stand in front of him.

“You broke up with me,” Bucky says.

“Yes, but I -”

“No,” he interrupts. “You broke up with me.”

Tony frowns in confusion and slowly says again, “Yes.”

“That means I do the grovelling here, because I fucked it up. I beg for the second chance, because I crossed the line so far that you left. And I did it on purpose, too, because I had a shit day so I pushed until you pushed back,” Bucky explains. “And apparently I did such a good job being horrible to you that you think it’s your fault.”

Tony tries to process that, but it’s taking some time to work through. A complete turn around on his thoughts that almost makes him dizzy.

“Why did you have a shit day? What happened?”

“Is that really what you’re focusing on in all of that?” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his hair. “God, it’s you that deserves better. That’s what I’m telling you here. You were right to leave, and I should be the one telling you I’m sorry.”

“You had a bad day and took it out on me. How many times have I done the same to you? You never once left.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Tony agrees. He reaches for one of Bucky’s hands, because he needs the contact and has a feeling that Bucky does too. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not worth working on. I meant what I said about wanting to be better for you.”

Bucky nods, looking down at their joined hands. “I want to be better for you, too. How do we do that?”

“A lot of talking about our feelings, probably.”

Bucky pulls a face. “God, that sounds terrible.”

Tony laughs, taking his other hand to pull him in closer, “Yeah, it does, but we’ll get better at it eventually.”

“Can we start tomorrow?” Bucky asks. He leans down to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “I’d really like to just hold you tonight.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tony murmurs. “Hold me tonight. It’ll be better in the morning.”

[stopeatingwhales]

real estate x damon albarn

THIS REQUEST WAS SO CUTE TYSM ANON <333

Pairing: 1998 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: none :))

Word count: 3.104

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Searching for a home to share with your partner is one of the most fulfilling yet extremely stressful experiences. To prior discussion and awareness of the reciprocity of feelings you have for one another, a mutual agreement is conformed in the idea of wanting to invest in a space where you both can start anew, and begin a segment in your lives which in hope can progress until the very last breath. From being in a relationship with Damon for quite a significant amount of time - and having him inhabit my apartment for many a year - it was quite transparent that we had both worn out the flat, to the point that it was wearing us down. To be able to start fresh, in a new space, grants the ability of us to create the life that we had always manifested together - notwithstanding the fact that we had loved where we had lived at the time, it was simply the element of growth and the need for a change between our relationship. As you get older, mature more into your thirties, simple doings like getting drunk every friday night after a long, dragging day of work and intoxicating your body with countless shots of pure ethanol, losing all ability of processing any cognitive skill, becomes more of an impediment than going out to release the burden placed on your shoulders from the entire week of pure hindrance - and not to mention the hangovers. If we had perpetuated ourselves in the same routine that had been occupied as long as the decade induced in our twenties lasted, not only would it morph a lifestyle of monotonous sadness, but it leaves no ground for the chance to mature, the chance to experience all else that this world, this life can provide. It defeats the purpose of life, as existence is never steady; it is a continuous development between life stages, and an inevitability. To not accept the philosophy of life, proves a lack of purpose in your existence. Life is fleeting from the moment a baby opens its mouth for its first cry, and to distract one’s self from the thought of the end, we comply with life as it blossoms.

Me and Damon were visiting the second home that the real estate agent had been showing us. It was beautiful; a much larger space in comparison to the apartment we had in the heart of Camden - a place where the life of the party never comes to a halt, so getting to sleep was quite a challenge some nights, as well as it being an actual house. We decided upon the fact that we should search for houses instead of another apartment as we had endured living in a one-floor apartment for years on end, and to be able to have more space where you could rest your feet, not have clutter at every corner of the room, would be a dream. As I wandered around the upstairs floor, I walked into the master room, where I had found Damon standing, gazing out of the window which conveyed the most picturesque landscape of freshly cut grass, accompanied with the sun’s glisten to allow the richness of the green pigment to blossom even more. It felt like a stupor admiring the beauty that was portrayed forth, like an over emphasised memory from your childhood, in which every little thing seemed to be so enticing, full of pure feelings of euphoria, where there had been not a care in the world for anything except your own - merely just that significant moment that had been playing out. From the repetitive reminiscence towards those specific memories, things seem to feel a little more bright, full, happy, than it had been before, as if it was your mind toying with the fact that you may not feel as elated as you were when everything had been handed to you from unconditional love and care. “What do you think of it?” I asked Damon, as I sat myself on the mattress laid on the bed frame.

His figure didn’t move from his admiration of the nature. “It’s alright,” he mumbled, just audible, before stepping away from the window and turning to face me, his back now resting against the warm glass surface. He seemed quite uninterested with the house itself, which had happened with the house we visited beforehand. All he seemed to do was pull faces or rest on the couch after looking around a couple times. “Let’s go visit the last place, see if we get anything better.” A hint of annoyance had been laced in his words, confusing me slightly. I had the urge to question him, see if there was anything bothering him, or if he had begun to doubt wanting to get a house together. The simple thought had shattered my heart a little, as if it had been trodden on by accident, though accidental pain seems to hurt the most. Attempting to brush the everlasting thought away from my mind, I nodded slightly, getting up from the mattress and walking out of the room with him.

As we reached the last property, it had only seemed as if things had gotten progressively worse in Damon’s demeanour. He walked around the building alongside me, leaving snide comments here and there about specific things that didn’t appeal to him from the interior. However, the home that had been presented to us seemed almost perfect for the both of us, a place that was created out of the utmost creativity and affection for the right couple to walk in and begin their lives together. This home was illustrated to have your heart sink into the ground, seep into the mud underneath as if it were quick sand and completely engulf your mind with it, a hypnosis so intense that regardless of the pricing you would sign any form sent your way. By having been with Damon for the past couple years, I knew him more than a reasonable amount to understand that there had been something else causing him to project such a detest towards our property-searching the entire day. There was not a single flaw in the architecture, as if the residence had been created as a welcome to Eden’s garden subsequent to your soul’s departure, except it had been built in the wrong heaven. A single step in the building had your jaw cascading to the wooden flooring, your mouth empty yet so brimmed with compliments, mesmerisation aching to escape your throat, though you could not muster any form of ability since it had been utterly hushed by the construction’s elegance that you didn’t want to damage any part from speaking, even in a mere whisper.

“What do you think of it?” I asked, my mind gaining déjà vu from the question I had repeated at every residence we had stepped forth into. We were wandering around the kitchen, which had an island separating it to the living room. It was a very large, open space, and the thought of not dividing rooms with brick walls, like the kitchen and living room, having them conjoined except separated with a countertop was very thoughtful. It removed the feeling of being trapped into such a small room, needing to wander through many doors twisting knobs and pushing the wooden frames in order to get into another corner of the premises, and made living much more free and easy. It's extremely draining by living in a space for many a year that it begins to close in on you, as if every single time you walked in it had gotten tighter, more smaller.

Turning my gaze to watch Damon wander around the living side of the room, I placed my hands on the countertop, sucking my cheek in as I attempted to think of something that may be bothering him, minus the stress of the entire house hunt we were doing today. Stress from work? Perhaps he got into an argument with a friend? Got up on the wrong side of bed? It was a pure mystery. My gaze was fixed on him until he connected eyes with me, a hand placed on his neck as his fingers grazed the back of it lightly, an attempt to relax himself. “It’s the nicest one we’ve visited,” he replied, walking over to me slowly, also scanning the large room as he did. “The amount of detail that went into designing this is mad.”

A small smile crept up on my lips as he stopped by the countertop, that now being the only thing in which dividing us at that point. “It’s perfect for us, don’t you think?” I asked quietly, admiring the craftwork that had been delicately carved into the ceiling.

“I think we should think over what we want before we make that decision,” he replied as our gazes matched once again. Looking up at him, a confused expression spread out on my face, but before I was able to speak up he had carried on. “Don’t take that the wrong way, but I don’t want us to rush into things and have us regretting something we could’ve easily thought of if we gave ourselves time.”

“We have spoken it out, haven’t we?” I questioned him, now taking a step back and folding my arms together. Everything about Damon today felt so off, the thought of him not wanting to share a place with me sinking into my thoughts again as I tried my hardest to battle it out of my mind. “You agreed that it was time for us to search for something new, together, and that’s what we’re doing, is it not?”

An exasperated sigh left his lips as he stared at the ground. At this point I had begun to get frustrated with his overall mood - this was supposed to be a fun experience together, but the feeling of him weighing the cons was more visible than his thought of the pros. “I don’t want to argue here, let’s just keep looking around.”

The build-up to the argument had seemingly debunked itself, at Damon’s command. Indeed, we carried on looking around, though this time I had decided to admire the place alone, which had been made very clear when I had pushed past him, not with much strength to cause damage, but enough to cause a point once I left the room. The upstairs floor was no different in beauty and elegance as the ground floor embodied. It would be a simple wonder to think how much time, dedication would be taken into creating such a masterpiece; it was so magnificent that you’d practically feel guilty for stepping foot inside. Glad I took my shoes off once I walked in, then.

After spending what seemed like all eternity having my eyes fixated on the embellishment surfaced all around, picturing what furniture would suit in far right corner, the middle of the room, what would hang on the wall, I headed to the ground floor, refreshing my memory of the delicacy that had been portrayed everywhere. My pace was slow, as if my mind was taking mental pictures of the palace to be able to look back in my memories for later, when me and Damon would discuss which place suited us the most. The market was quite tight at the minute, seemingly every person in the industry and in our lives growing up and deciding upon starting new chapters of their lives, which is why we were extremely lucky to be able to have such a place offered to us at the minute, surprising as it had not been taken by some conservative wanting to waste their money on a place where they probably wouldn’t walk inside. I saw the estate agent in the living room, who immediately made eye contact with me as I stepped into the room, a grin spreading out across her cheeks almost instantaneously. “Nice, right?”

“Oh, it’s absolutely beautiful,” I replied back, engaging myself in the ceiling’s artwork once again, thinking for a moment before choosing the right thing to reply. My thoughts had then been distracted from Damon’s footsteps heading towards the pair of us. He stood beside me as I gazed up at him, swallowing lightly before I knew what to say. “I think we’re going to head home and think about everything first, before we make any big decisions.” I added, my gaze never leaving Damon’s side profile.

“That’s completely alright, you have until the end of the week to make your decision, I’ll put this place on a reserve.” She replied, followed by our thanks as we walked out of the elegant building and headed home.

~~~

Me and Damon hardly spoke after we got home as I needed to finish up some work that was overdue from my job. Damon had nothing else planned for the rest of the night, so he stayed in the living room, providing no extra distraction for me to prevent any extra pressure or stress so I could be able to complete everything as quickly as possible. I overheard the television in the background, and the occasional phone ring, every call being for Damon it seemed as his deep voice followed after the repetitive rings of the phone line had come to an end. Oftentimes I envied his freedom due to his occupation being a musician, however a lot of the time his job seemed quite enclosing and tiring. Having to constantly be away from home, not being able to have an easy way of stability from the constant movement to a different country every couple of days, sometimes even every single day. Though, arriving in a new country every morning does seem quite fun.

After I had finished up all my work, I changed into my pyjamas and headed to the living room, welcoming me to the sight of Damon, who had now dozed off on the couch, his hair quite messy from shuffling around in the same spot, his skin illuminating a golden glow, courtesy to the warm light being omitted from the lampshade beside him. Part of me didn’t want to wake him due to how relaxed he looked, though I knew he would be more comfortable waking up on a mattress rather than an old leather couch. I turned the television off, quietly tiptoeing around his sleepy body, then crouched down slightly to shake Damon so he would wake up. “Come to bed, love.” I whispered, causing his eyelids to flutter open softly as he stretched his arms out unintentionally, conveying his exhaustion, a small smile spread out across his lips once he was greeted by me in his sight. Helping him get up, I allowed him to walk into our bedroom in front of me, turning the light off after we both left the room. There was no light on in the bedroom, except the shine of the moon seeping onto the bed covers due to the curtains never being shut. Once we both made ourselves comfortable under the duvet, we turned our bodies to look at one another's, Damon’s tired eyes evident due to the eyebags surrounding them, though he was more awake now after moving around a little. “I know you’re tired, but what was wrong with you today?” I asked quietly, regretting speaking as soon as the sentence had rolled off my tongue.

A large sigh escaped his throat before mustering a response towards my asking. “I’ll be honest, the houses were very nice, but I didn’t like any of them.”

“None of them? How come?” I replied, attempting not to raise my voice out of shock.

“Because I want to start this part of our lives with a house big enough for us to raise children,” he admitted, staring deeply into my eyes. “I want the perfect house for us, but I haven’t been able to find it at all, and it’s so frustrating.”

A grin spread across my face as I reached to embrace his face with both my hands. "Damon, it doesn't matter the style of the doors, how big the living room is, or whether there's two or three bathrooms," I began, allowing my thumbs to lightly graze over his cheeks. “What matters is enjoying our time together, and the lives that we'll lead together as parents, raising our children,” A large beam spread across his face from my reassurance, compelling me to give him a soft peck on the lips before carrying on. "If you can picture the house of your dreams, it isn't your dream house. Your dream house is something that you shouldn't be able to picture, something that you can't fixate upon in specific, because it carries such beauty that you will only know you have achieved, once you've got it."

“Does that apply to everything?” he asked, mumbling, his voice now soft as if the love of the moment had been seeping out of his mouth.

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Then that means I’ve got the girl of my dreams.”

“Oh shut it you softie.”

“What? It’s true, love.”

“I can’t wait to start a family with you.” I mumbled absentmindedly, a light sigh leaving my mouth, repeating all that had just happened these past couple minutes.

“Likewise, darling,” he replied, bringing his lips to my face to kiss my temples gently, the feeling of his kiss lingering on the skin, my heart filled with pure elation and adoration for the man in front of me. “Spoke to your mum today.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, she called whilst you were doing your work so I just told her you were busy, then she decided on having a conversation with me instead,” he replied, taking a hold of my hand and playing with my fingers, his gaze focused on the action. “I love your mum.”

A laugh rumbled out of my throat. “You say that every time you speak to her.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I love your mum more than you do.” he jokingly replied.

“What?” I scoffed, a smile spread on my lips. “I never said that!”

“Well you certainly implied it.” he joked, raising his eyebrows as he awaited a response.

“Shut up, go to sleep.” I laughed, partly serious as the fatigue from all the walking we had done began to kick in my body.

“Only if you give me a kiss.”

“I just did!” I answered back, shifting my body so my back was to him.

“You’re the worst.” he replied, annoyance laced between his words, causing my smile to widen.

“Thanks, lovely.”

[hangovercurse]

Our Song

At the last show of his tour, Kells invites you on stage for a duet, but it turns into a bit more than that.

Request: “Can you do one where the reader and Colson both are music artist. I know you're doing this with "The Thing We Can't Tell Pete about. But with this one they have been dating for a while and while they are in the middle of the song Colson decides to announce they're dating and gives her a kiss in front of the crowd, and the reader is just in shock. However it ends it up to you. Love ya!!!!!!!!”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: implied smut/ mentions of sex, cursing

A/N: So, I used my own lyrics in here because why not (sue me I guess)

Word Count: 2326

The last two months had been absolute hell on Earth. Yes, you loved your job. Recording your third studio album was exciting but being busy all the time was exhausting. On top of that, your boyfriend being off on tour meant you hadn’t seen him in person in two months, which was driving you even more insane.

It also meant you hadn’t had sex in almost two months.

You’d called each other every night, even if you were both drunk off your asses or faded beyond belief. It had become your routine; get home from the studio, grab something to eat, then hop into the bath and facetime your blond boyfriend.

Tonight, was no exception, but the energy on the call was different. Colson was coming home tomorrow. Granted, he would be going straight to the venue for his concert, but he’d be here.

“You’re still coming tomorrow, right princess?” He asked, a joint hanging from his lips.

You smiled, nodding, “I haven’t seen you in two months. If I’m not there, you should assume I’m dead.”

He chuckled, “good.” He hesitated before continuing, “I was thinking you could perform with me. We haven’t performed White Sea in like a year.”

You bit your lip at the thought of performing with him again. He was right, after you’d finished live performance promo for the song, neither of you had performed it together. “Yeah, I’m down.”

The song was the first one you’d written together; it was actually the whole reason you’d met. “You don’t think people will get suspicious though? I mean, people are already catching on. I feel like performing it out of the blue would add fire to the flames.”

He thought about it, the wheels turning in his head. “I think it’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not exactly a secret.”

You nodded, “I know, we’ve just never really talked about telling people.” The last two words came out softer than you had intended.

Colson and you had been together for a year and still hadn’t officially told anyone outside of your closest circles. You liked the privacy, and getting the media involved always caused problems. So, you kept it to yourself. People saw you out together, but nothing had been confirmed.

Colson left the conversation there, not having a good answer. You had both agreed a long time ago that if people figured it out or someone slipped up and told you would be okay with it, and you would. You just didn’t think it was a big deal if people knew or not.

He started talking about his day on tour, the crowd he’d played to tonight. You told him about the song you were working on. Eventually he got called away by the boys.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” He smiled at you through your phone.

You smiled, “You better. I-“ You almost slipped up. Almost said those three words so casually. But you’d caught yourself. “I can’t wait.” You covered.

He gave you a small wave before your screen went back, the sound of the line disconnecting ringing through your bathroom. You put your phone on the floor next to the tub, leaning your head back and sighing.

You don’t know why it worried you so much. You knew you loved him, and you were pretty sure he loved you too. There was just something about saying out loud that scared the hell out of you.

 The next day was amazing. As soon as he texted you that he’d gotten to the venue, you were rushing to meet him there. When you stepped into the green room where he was, he ran up to you and grabbed you by your waist. Your arms went around his neck, legs around his as he lifted you up, burying his face into your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled into your skin. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, holding him closely.

“I missed you too.” You whispered. He lifted his head up and pressed a deep kiss to your lips as your feet came down to touch the floor again. His lips were so familiar, it felt like the world had shifted back into place when you felt them on yours.

He pulled away, forehead and nose still pressed against yours. Your hands travelled from his neck to his shoulders, rubbing the fabric of his t-shirt. “I didn’t think I was gonna survive another night without you.” You said with a slight giggle, making him laugh.

“Well now you don’t have to worry about that.” He said, pressing a peck to your lips.

Before you could pull him back to your lips, your moment was interrupted. “We get it, you guys are cute. Whatever. Can we get hugs from our favorite girl?” Irv joked, pulling your attention to the group of guys near the couches in the room.

One of the things you loved most about being with Colson was how accepting his friends were of you. Slim and you had bonded over your love of music production and mixing, Baze had taught you some more complicated bass riffs, and Rook was your designated adventure buddy (after Colson, of course). You felt lucky that your boyfriend’s family had taken you in as one of their own.

You ran over to them, giving each of the guys a hug. When you hugged Ashleigh, she whispered in your ear, “don’t ever leave me alone with these lunatics again.” You both giggled at that, leaving the boys confused.

After messing around backstage for a while and catching up with your friends (mostly from the comfort of Colson’s lap), it was time for the guys to perform. You set up your spot side-stage with Ash, Irv, and Andre, excited to see the set.

Before he went on, Colson came over to you and pulled you in for a very giddy kiss. Pre-show Colson was your favorite Colson, except for maybe post-show Colson, only because he was so excitable. Every time you sat show side, he demanded you give him a good luck kiss. No matter who was watching.

Watching him was magical, in fact watching all the boys was magical. The way their passion showed through the music and the performance was something that not many other artists could perfect. You felt like you’d never match their level of performing.

When Colson brought out his acoustic guitar and two bar stools, you were a bit taken aback. Normally his shows were so high energy that he never wanted to sit down, even during the slower songs. It wasn’t really his style.

“I wanted to bring out a very special guest today to help slow this down a bit.” He said to the crowd as they screamed. “I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, but I figured today would be the perfect time to do it.”

He looked over at you, a smile on his face. It finally registered in his mind that he was talking about your song. Luckily, you’d had ears put in at the beginning of the show, so that wasn’t an issue. One of the venue’s techs handed you a microphone and signaled you to go on stage.

Once you came in view of the audience they erupted into another round of cheers, making you smile. Colson met you halfway and pulled you in for a sweaty hug. He led you over to the chairs, letting you sit down while he adjusted his mic stand. “For those of you who don’t know, not that there should be anyone who doesn’t know who this is, but just in case, this is Y/S/N. We wrote this song a little over a year ago today.”

You smiled as he started to strum the familiar intro, the lights dimming just a little bit.

Drownin’ in empty space.

You started singing.

Don’t even know my name

Feels like you’re miles away

Close my eyes, see your face

It’s okay

Rook brought the drum beat in as Colson smiled at you, his verse starting

Yeah

I was drownin’ in this darkness

Feeling like I was so heartless

All these drugs makin things harder

They tried to turn me to a martyr

You loved watching him party on stage, but you loved watching this side of him, too. Completely stripped down and raw. Hearing him rap the words you wrote together made your heart flutter, even if you’d written them so long ago.

I can’t handle shit I’m just a man

I tried to tell ‘em, they don’t understand

Riptide’s pulling me away from land

I couldn’t stand till you reached out your hand

And now I can.

The rest of the music came in, the sounds mixing as you began the chorus.

Drownin’ in empty space

Don’t even my name

Feels like you’re miles away

Close my eyes, see your face

The key raised.

Out on the open sea

Feel your eyes watching me

Wanted to fall asleep

Now I believe.

The music kept playing, but Colson’s rap didn’t enter like it was supposed to. Instead, he just looked at you, a fond smile on his face. You tilted your head, questioning him, but he just placed his guitar on the ground and kept looking at you.

“I just want to let everyone here know, that today is my one-year anniversary with this amazing woman right here.” He said into the mic, causing the audience to burst into screams. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening.

He caught your expression and laughed but kept going. “It wasn’t a secret that we’ve been together, but we’ve been quiet about it. But I mean, like, fuck that shit. When you’re in love you should tell everyone, right?”

You smiled at him, your heart picking up speed. “And Y/N I am so fucking in love with you.”

You looked down, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks and the idiotic grin you were sporting. You had never expected this from him. “Like, seriously, this past year has been the best year of my life. Even when we aren’t together you are the one thing that I look forward to the most, every day. You are one of the best things in my life, and I want everyone to know that.”

During his little monologue he had walked over to your chair and pulled you up into his arms. You nuzzled your face into his bare chest, making him laugh. He pulled the microphone away from you both so it wouldn’t pick up your conversation.

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly and you complied. “I love you.”

You had tears in your eyes as you studied his perfect features, “I love you, too.” You whispered. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while I just…”

“I know, princess.” He smiled, leaning down and pressing your lips together in a sweet, passionate kiss. The audience erupted in applause, cheers, and awes. “Are you gonna say anything?” He asked once you’d pulled away, motioning to the audience with a smile on his face. You shook your head, burying it back in his chest and laughing. He spoke into the microphone, “she got all shy now.”

The crowd laughed with him, shouting supportive comments at you both. “But she said she loves me too so that’s all that matters.” He continued, earning even more cheers.

 After the show, Colson came backstage and immediately attached his lips to yours, hands holding you close. You pulled him into one of the unused dressing rooms, mouths never leaving each other. He hoisted you onto the counter, standing in between your legs, and leaned your back against the mirror.

Finally, he released your lips from his, making you whine. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about all this, but after last night I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. And you just looked so pretty out there that I-“ You cut him off with a kiss, lips moving together slowly.

He chuckled as you pulled away. “Colson, I loved it. I was hella embarrassed because the first time you told me you loved me was in front of thousands of people, but I loved it. And I love you.”

He smiled, pressing a peck to your lips. “How much do you love me?” He asked, slyly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing something was up. “Depends on your next statement.”

A laugh fell from his mouth as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small rectangular box. “Because I really hope it’s a lot.”

“What are you doing?” You asked him, giggling.

He lifted the lid off of the box to reveal a key with your first initial painted on one side and a C on the other. “You don’t have to, but if you wanted to maybe think about moving in with me, now you have a key.” He smiled as you took the metal in your hands.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, lips open in shock. “So, you’re asking me to move in with you?” You confirmed.

“Only if you want to. But yes.”

You smiled, looking back down to the key and then up to his face before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. Your arms went around his neck and his hands went to your waist. “Of course, I want to, dummy.” You giggled and reconnected your lips.

“We’re supposed to go out and celebrate the last night of tour tonight, you’re gonna come, right?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“You act like I don’t wanna be around you.” You pushed his chest playfully. “But we might be a couple minutes late.” You smirk.

Colson raised an eyebrow, “oh yeah? And why is that?”

Instead of responding you just giggled and pulled him back into a kiss.

[lsvdw-blog]

Okay

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst (with a happy ending); General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback on Part I and II! This almost had an alternate ending, (it's still sitting in my WIPS) but I couldn't do them like that 😅 it starts off angsty, but the happy ending is there 😊 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

Ethan stares at her for a long moment, willing her to look at him. It’s been like this for the past few days: she only speaks to him when absolutely necessary and avoids eye contact at all costs. When she continues to evade his gaze, he sighs, and opens the folder.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test... or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

She spills the story, only stopping halfway through to take the tissue Naveen hands her. After she finishes, she wipes her eyes, and reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out something folded. “And I was hoping you would approve this.”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

She nods. "I'm not asking for this solely because of what happened. I've been homesick for a while now; it was my first holiday season without my family and I haven't seen them since I moved here… and I don't know, I guess what happened with Eth—” she clears her throat, “Dr. Ramsey, was the last straw. It all feels like it's too much: Edenbrook, Boston.” She shakes her head before continuing. “I just… need a break. Please."

Naveen sits back and takes her in. She’s slightly hunched over, strands of hair falling out of her topknot, the concealer no longer hiding her dark circles, and she’s been wringing her hands since she sat down. The woman in front of him is a shell of the usually confident and exuberant young lady he is used to seeing and his heart breaks for her.

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

Ethan is walking down the corridor to his office, trying to comprehend the words on the file in his hand, but his mind is elsewhere. The sun has long set, but he refuses to go home. To the place where, everywhere he looks, he's reminded of her. It's not like he'll be able to sleep anyways; he's lost count of how many sleepless nights he's had since their argument, tossing and turning for hours, as her side of the bed remains tucked and cold.

Not only has he been unable to sleep, he's been unable to focus on anything but her: her melodic laugh lilting through the hospital corridors, her sweet perfume lingering in the office, her animated way of chatting with anybody but him.

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

He hurriedly weaves between the leisurely drivers and dodges through the lackadaisical travelers in the airport lobby, stopping in front of an information screen. His eyes scan the monitor furiously until he sees it.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

Ethan lightly catches her wrist, stopping her. “Rookie… I know I've hurt you, innumerable times, and I am so sorry. Please hear me out and if you still want to leave afterwards, I will buy you a new ticket home.”

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She closes her eyes, breathes out, and whispers, “I cannot believe I’m about to do this.”

She grabs her stuff and begins walking to a less busy part of the gates area. Ethan is too stunned to move for a moment. She looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Right!” and speedwalks after her.

She stands with her suitcase in front of her, arms crossed, waiting for him to start speaking.

He runs his hand through his hair, clears his throat, and locks eyes with her.

“There are no excuses for my actions, but I want you to know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I know that’s an out people utilize, but in this case, it’s true. You know about my mother abandoning my father and I when I was a child, but what I have not shared is that her leaving absolutely destroyed my father. He waited and waited for her return, all the while putting on a brave face for me, and continuing to love her."

He notices that her arms have fallen back to her sides.

"What he did not know was that I could hear him crying at night, that I would catch him wistfully looking at her pictures, and overhear him leaving her voicemails begging her to come home. Watching him fall apart, while I couldn’t do anything, broke my heart and I promised myself I would never let myself be in the same position. ”

Her eyes have slightly softened now too and it’s all the encouragement he needs to keep going.

“My father says that he and my mother had a great relationship in the beginning. Then a few years down the road, it started to change. He told me that no matter how much you love someone, sometimes it just isn’t enough, because if it was, she wouldn’t have left. Therefore, to ensure that I wouldn’t be left heartbroken again, I closed myself off to anyone and everyone.”

He can feel the tears gathering slowly in his eyes and he tentatively reaches for her hands.

“Until I met you. You have been so incredibly patient, supportive, and understanding with me; I see and feel it everyday. Despite that, I am still afraid. Afraid that one day, you will lose your patience with me or that you will see what my mother, the one person who was supposed to love me most in the world, saw, and leave as well and I’ll be left shattered, begging you to come back to me.”

She begins to try and say something, but Ethan continues.

“I know you are not my mother and that I am not my father. But the images of him in the first few months after she left are ingrained and still haunt me.”

He’s gripping her hands tightly now and she squeezes them comfortingly.

“I do not want to make the same mistakes as my parents: that is what I meant. You, and we, are not a mistake. I know we can, will, do better. I completely misspoke the other night and even Jenner has been acutely avoiding me since then.”

She laughs lightly and it gives Ethan the strength to blink away his tears.

“I am so incredibly sorry for my words and for hurting you. I will spend however long and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

He rests his forehead against hers and whispers, "There are not enough words for me to convey my gratitude in having you in my life. You deserve better and I will do my utmost to be better. Forgive me, baby.”

She serenely scans his face and his heart begins to pound so loudly, that he wonders if she can hear it too.

She brings one hand to wrap around the back of his neck and her eyes flutter closed. She gives a small nod and whispers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She pulls back far enough to look in his cerulean eyes and nods again. He breaks out into a large grin and sweeps her up into his arms, spinning her around. She laughs in surprise and Ethan thinks it's the most wonderful sound he's ever heard.

He sets her back down and kisses her tenderly, languidly. He pulls away with great effort and takes her plane ticket.

“Now that you won’t be needing this anymore, how about we go back to my place?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, as he’s already moving to collect her things. She tugs on his hand and he looks up. When their eyes connect, she places one hand on his cheek.

“I know this is difficult for you. So thank you. For your apology, for opening up to me… for trying.”

He leans into her touch and places a sweet kiss to her palm.

“For you, I am always willing to try.”

She beams at him as he places a soft kiss to her temple and they walk out of the airport, hand in hand.

[fenriss]

It's Not Traditional a lil dean/cas proposal ficlet

Dean’s not sure how he always gets saddled with popcorn duty, although he’ll be the first to admit this time he’s not too bothered by it. Sam had picked out Four Weddings and a Funeral for movie night and the aforementioned funeral is about to happen and Dean would rather not weep like a baby in front of Sam, Eileen, and Cas when Matthew recites that Auden poem.

As the popcorn bag spins in the microwave, slowly inflating, Dean considers all that’s changed in the past few months. He wasn’t sure someone could survive changing as much as he has, but then again maybe he hadn’t changed so much as he has just accepted who he is. Someone who loves Cas, first of all. Best of all. Someone who loves men and has loved men for a very long time and that’s okay. Relatedly, someone who can now openly comment on Hugh Grant’s veritable attractiveness in front of his brother, his friend, and his—what? What are they? Boyfriends? They’re not in high school, although the giddiness Dean still feels even months after the fact when Cas presses a hand to his lower back or steals a quick kiss from him at the breakfast table before shuffling off to make coffee, makes it feel a lot like obsessive, all-encompassing high school love. Dean is thrumming with it, a smile always moments away.

[Read on AO3]

Dean has also accepted that he is someone who can sit down with his brother, his friend, and his whatever and watch Four Weddings and a Funeral and only grouse about it being a chick flick for thirty seconds (he hasn’t completely tossed his reputation for hating girly shit in the trash; but he’ll never admit it’s because the girly shit makes him soft and he’s not sure his heart can take that right now) before accepting Sam’s declaration that ”it’s a classic” and absolutely required watching for Cas. Plus Eileen points out it’s one of the only movies with a deaf character whose entire plot isn’t centered around the fact that he’s deaf, even if he is a minor character.

The microwave beeps at him and he empties the contents into a bowl. As he nears the doorway to the movie and gaming den, he’s disappointed to note that Sam apparently paused the movie when Dean left. Great. He could feign a headache, he supposes, but then there is a delightful little thought that maybe Cas will take pity on his sorry, weeping self and let Dean spend the rest of the movie curled against him on the couch in his arms. They try to keep the PDA to a minimum with Sam around, but this is what he gets for bringing Four Weddings and a Funeral into the mix. He’s a sadist and he gets what he deserves.

Dean’s about to round the corner into the room when he hears his name and pauses. He hesitates because he likes to consider himself an adult who understands boundaries, but he’s also Dean Winchester and if Sam wants to talk shit about him behind his back, then Dean deserves to hear about it so he can retaliate accordingly. He’s thinking Miracle needs a bath and maybe Sam’s bedroom is the perfect place to let loose a 60-pound sopping wet dog to dry himself off on his bedsheets.

“I suppose I never considered it,” Cas is saying, his voice low but carrying in the quiet of the room. “There isn’t much that’s traditional about what we are.”

“Sure, yeah, true,” Sam replies. “But it’s not just about tradition, y’know. Anyway, I was just curious. You guys don’t have to do anything, obviously. But I just…” There’s a pause and Dean can almost perfectly conjure the image of Cas’s prying look in his mind, aimed right at Sam. “Dean’s a romantic,” Sam says finally.

Dean frowns at that, a protest rising in his throat before he can remind himself that given the last three months, he has absolutely no leg to stand on. He is a romantic. Gross.

“Well, I’m sure if Dean wanted to get married, he would tell me.”

The bowl of popcorn slips from Dean’s hands and lands with an impossibly loud clang on the floor. Married. The word has Dean completely flustered and he’s still reeling when Miracle comes trotting out of the room to investigate, spots the popcorn, and goes absolutely feral, licking up the popcorn like it’s his last meal on earth.

“Agh! Miracle! Stop it! Fuck,” Dean makes an aborted attempt to stop Miracle, but he looks like he’s discovered the holy grail, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he hoovers up the popcorn.

“Dean?”

Dean glances up from where he’s on his knees, holding an empty bowl as Miracle frantically cleans up the mess he made.

Married.

“Hey,” Dean says and his voice cracks like the fucking traitor it is. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I’ll have to make another bowl.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

It’s not a question. But Cas has this little quirk of a smile on his face that has Dean’s heart pounding in his ears.

Married.

“Uh, yeah, well. Heard my name and had to make sure Sammy wasn’t telling lies about me.”

Cas huffs a laugh and leans against the doorway. Dean’s still on the floor and he thinks about standing but he’s not entirely sure his legs would hold him up because—

MARRIED.

“Well, Dean, you tell me. Was Sam lying?”

“Lying?”

“Would you like to get married?”

Just like that. Dean will never admit to this, but privately he has thought about it. Big romantic gestures involving flowers and music, and quieter proposals whispered in the dark, in their bedroom, against the nape of Cas’s neck. Dean’s always been too scared, too unsure of Cas and his thoughts on the decidedly antiquated ritual of marriage. Cas saying no is basically the worst thing Dean can imagine, and he’s seen some shit in his time. Besides, it’s only been three months.

Cas’s eyebrow has risen in a silent question. Well?

“Jesus, Cas, you can’t just ask me that like…”

“No, of course not,” Cas agrees. “And you’re already on your knees. Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats and Dean can see the mirth in his eyes. The little shit loves seeing Dean squirm, but two can play at that game. Dean pulls one leg up so he’s down on one knee, the proper stance if he’s going to do this. Which, holy shit, he thinks he’s going to do this.

“Make an honest man outta me, Cas,” Dean says.

Cas rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Sam said you were a romantic.”

“What? That was romantic as hell.”

Cas reaches out a hand and Dean takes it. Cas pulls him to his feet. “You didn’t even tell me you loved me,” Cas points out.

Dean pulls himself into Cas’s space, their hands still clasped between them. “I also don’t have a ring,” Dean says.

“Well,” Cas says and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, Dean following the movement with great interest, “nothing we’ve done so far has been traditional. Perhaps we should keep it that way.”

Dean’s heart sinks. He should’ve figured as much. It’s not like they need something as basic as marriage to solidify what they have. It’s already perfect. Don’t fix what ain’t broke, right?

“But,” Cas continues thoughtfully, “I think I would like this to be our one exception.”

Dean swallows down the anxiety building behind his sternum. “Really?”

Cas smiles widely at that, his nose crinkling in that way that makes Dean understand why people swoon when they’re in love in old movies. Fuck, he really loves this guy.

“Marry me,” Cas says.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean replies and closes the distance between them with a fervent kiss. Cas inhales sharply and returns the kiss enthusiastically, although it’s clear they’re both fighting not to smile.

Someone clears their throat from the doorway.

Dean pulls back. He and Cas stare at one another and Dean sees reflected in Cas’s eyes what he’s feeling: pure, unadulterated, passionate love. And maybe a little lust, but it’s mostly love, Dean swears.

“If you guys are done being gross, we still have the movie to finish,” Sam says.

Dean finally looks over at his brother in the doorway who is trying his best to look peeved, but he can’t help smiling.

“Perhaps we can finish another time,” Cas says, turning to look at Sam. “My fiancé and I have some business to discuss regarding our upcoming nuptials.” He turns back to Dean and adds, “In our bedroom.”

Sam feigns gagging. “Spare me the details. Congrats or whatever. Now fuck off.”

“Gladly,” Dean replies and pulls Cas back down the hallway toward their bedroom. Dean has one thought before he lets his mind become saturated in all the simple, lurid thoughts that come with sex: Dean is going to marry the shit out of Cas.

[ladyblogger-margie]

Traitor

Pairing: Mobius M Mobius x Loki (MCU)

Summary: The Loki Variants are captured and Mobius battles his personal versus professional feelings. 

Warnings: Mentions of bondage kind of?? A little angsty

Word Count: 1788

a/n: thanks to this post by @pietro-maximoff I have been listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo and thinking about Lokius non-stop. This fic is what came out of that obsessing. Also I wrote it before Episode 3 aired. 

MY MASTERLIST

Mobius heard the alarms blaring and didn’t flinch. It had been set off so many times lately, it had lost all impact. This time though, Casey came flying through the halls of the TVA and skidded to an abrupt halt next to Mobius’ cubicle. 

“We found him,” Casey panted. 

“Who?” Mobius asked, fearful to get his hopes up. 

“The Loki variant,” Casey explained, his hands on his knees. 

“You may need to be more specific, there are several,” Mobius said, as he stood and led Casey back where he came from. 

“The variant, your variant,” Casey said, jogging to keep up. 

Casey’s words rang in Mobius’ brain. Apparently everyone could see how he felt about Loki, well except Loki. If Loki knew, he wouldn’t have ran off, or at least Mobius desperately hoped that was the case. The alternative was too gut wrenching to consider with everything else going to shit. 

Mobius had called out for Loki, begging him not to leave, but he went through the door anyway leaving Mobius behind. Loki had looked at him, but gave him nothing but an empty glance before he turned his back and ran to join the Loki Variant they were supposed to be chasing together. 

Now Casey was explaining how both Loki’s were now surrounded and Mobius needed to get there immediately. He was trying to keep his focus professional and stuff down the longing rising in his chest, a longing that would not do him a single lick of good. 

Suddenly Mobius turned a corner and saw the Hunters in position by the Time Door. He didn’t slow down as he gestured for them to breach the door and he was right in their midst as they arrived on the scene. 

Lady Loki sat with her eyes rolling tied up and contained, clearly annoyed, bored, as well as plotting. Mobius knew Loki well enough to know that she wasn’t truly as subdued as she appeared on the surface. The other Loki, the one in the TVA Variant jacket, was looking extremely put out with a collar back around his slender throat and his wrists in cuffs. 

Mobius banished his first thought in favor of the professional thoughts that followed. 

“We’ve apprehended the variants. Let’s reset this one here first,” he said, pointing to Lady Loki. 

The other Loki was desperately trying to make eye contact with Mobius, but Mobius turned his back to him. 

This was his first mistake. Loki slipped in behind him so close that Mobius felt that taller man’s breath against his neck and he suppressed a shiver. 

“I did it, I captured the Variant,” Loki bragged, his tone smug, “But these fools arrested me in the process of turning her into the proper authorities.”

Mobius caught the indignation in Loki’s voice at the second part and tried not to let it affect him. He was fooled before and he would not be fooled again. 

“Reset her, bring this one back to headquarters,” Mobius said, still ignoring Loki, “Someone’s going to have to question him to complete the paperwork.”

Then Mobius retreated with the team completing the Variant reset, leaving a stammering Loki behind him.

“Mobius, where are you going?” Loki asked, “Mobius?”

Mobius ignored him. 

After they successfully solved the Lady Loki Variant problem, Mobius returned to headquarters. He wasn’t told exactly where they had taken Loki, but he had a hunch, and until recently his hunches usually proved correct. 

He found Loki in the same room he had shown Loki his role on the timeline when they first met. There Loki was heavily guarded and they had added a gag to his collection of restraints since Mobius saw him last. 

“You can all go,” Mobius said, waving the hunters away, “I can handle him.”

Mobius shook the control to Loki’s collar in his hand and with minimal muttering, the Hunters filed out. 

Mobius sat in a chair across the table from Loki and just looked at him. He watched as Loki squirmed and tried to speak. He watched the frustrating boil over on Loki’s face and felt guilty for watching him suffer. He thought he’d enjoy catching Loki out, but he was wrong. The image in front of him made him sick. 

Mobius reached across the table and gently removed the gag from Loki’s mouth. He’d barely sprung the release when Loki began talking rapidly.

“Mobius, you have to understand,” Loki’s fast tongue clipped, “I had to go. I needed to catch the Variant. That was the plan, was it not? Use a Loki to catch a Loki.”

Mobius bit the inside of his lip, pouting them slightly as he did so, but he kept quiet. 

“I know what you must be thinking, but technically I didn’t stab you in the back,” Loki said, attempting a joke. 

Mobius remained silent and to his surprise he found it was making Loki look, well, nervous. 

“You don’t think I left you on purpose?” Loki asked, “Why would I do that?”

Loki’s face looked so open, so vulnerable in its proposed sincerity, Mobius was almost moved. He promised to himself he wasn’t buying the trickster’s words, but unconsciously he stood and removed the rest of Loki’s restraints except the collar around his neck. 

“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice soft with emotion and Mobius' heart clenched. Being in close proximity with him again had Mobius on edge, so aware of his own body and Loki’s as well. 

“What happened when you went through the door?” Mobius asked in a professional tone. 

“I heard you calling,” Loki said, standing to stroll the room. 

“I’m aware,” Mobius sighed, “You looked right at me.”

“Well I thought that meant you understood,” Loki said, his arms open wide, head cocked to the side. 

“Understood what? That you’re a traitor? You betrayed me,” Mobius said. He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to air his personal issues, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with a Variant, especially a Loki whose betrayal surely was inevitable. “I’m here to assess and record what happened after you walked out,” he said, pushing forward with his assignment. 

“I didn’t betray you, I swear. Besides, isn’t paperwork and cleanup a bit beneath your pay grade? There’s got to be more to you being here than just the job,” Loki suggested with a raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t trust you with anyone else,” Mobius admitted plainly. He didn’t trust himself with Loki either, but that wasn’t the point. 

“I didn’t leave you, Mobius,” Loki said, sitting back down. He reached his hands across the table to where Mobius’ were resting. 

Mobius ripped his hands out of the way and stood himself, taking up Loki’s pacing position. 

“I trusted you to see this through,” Mobius said, barely containing the tremble in his voice. 

“But that’s just it!” Loki said, following Mobius and completely disregarding his personal space, “I did! I caught the Variant.”

Mobius studied his face, “You were captured with the Variant.”

“No!” Loki was frustrated now, his hands in his hair, “Those imbeciles showed up after I had her in custody because I was trying to call you.”

Mobius was blinking very quickly now, “But you left me, I saw you look at me and deliberately choose to abandon the team and the mission. Loki, I am trying to get to the truth here and I know that’s a foreign concept-“

Mobius was cut off mid-sentence when Loki crashed his lips against his, kissing him and shutting him up in one fell swoop. The action short-circuited Mobius' brain and he stood frozen, his lips responding on instinct alone. 

Loki tasted like honey and peppermint, sweet and sharp and a little bitter, but absolutely perfect. Mobius raised a hand to Loki’s throat and in horror remembered he was still wearing his collar. 

Mobius shoved Loki away abruptly. It wasn’t easy to shove a god, but the advantage of surprise  granted him the space he needed. 

“You really think you can play me,” Mobius said with a sad chuckle. He had to drop this idiotic fantasy - Loki could never love him the way that Mobius loved him. 

“Play you? I’m trying to kiss you,” Loki said, his tone sharp. 

“You’re trying to get me to take off that collar,” Mobius said with a limp gesture of his hand. 

Loki’s fingers brushed across the collar almost like he forgot he was wearing it. 

“So take it off and see how I act then,” Loki suggested. 

Mobius actually laughed, “How thick do you think I am? I know you don’t respect me, but give me a little credit.”

“Of course I respect you, I care for you,” Loki sighed, “You’ve caught me many times before, I have no magic, and your team already confiscated my daggers, what have you got to lose?”

Loki watched Mobius with his head tilted, as Mobius squinted at him intently. 

Mobius released Loki’s collar with a press of the button on the controller. Loki tossed it aside casually and he made no effort to run. Instead he moved closer to Mobius, crowding his space. Mobius held his breath as Loki inspected him intently, his crystal blue eyes tracing across Mobius’ face. 

Mobius’ breath hitched as Loki kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. He felt his skin catch fire as Loki traced his thumb across his check as his tongue swept across his lower lip. Then Mobius’ resolve shattered. 

Mobius yanked on Loki’s tie, wrapping it around his fist as his other hand wrapped around Loki’s waist. Mobius could feel the smile on Loki’s lips through the kiss and he couldn’t help but smile back. Loki’s hands were soft and cool and Mobius relished in the feel of them, still not entirely sure if he believed his good fortune, but too overwhelmed to care. 

Suddenly the door to the room opened and Casey walked in, interrupting the kiss. Mobius flushed and jumped back in surprise, his hand still wrapped in Loki’s tie.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to - wait, what’s happening?” Casey said, obviously flustered. 

“What can I help you with?” Mobius asked. 

“There’s a new variant we need your help with,” Casey said, “After you reset this variant, there’s a file at your desk.”

Mobius turned to Loki and held his hand, “He’s not a variant, he’s a member of the TVA.”

Loki’s face lit up as Casey left with a shrug. 

Mobius turned to Loki, and fixed his tie and collar as Loki smiled at him. 

“I swear I wasn’t leaving you, I’d never do that to someone I love,” Loki said sincerely, and Mobius believed him so he kissed him, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. 

[tommyspeakycap]

Would you write for John McGinn? anything at all for him haha

you got me

a nasty breakup brings you to the door of the aston villa player, ready to welcome you once again with open arms full of love.

Whistling to himself as he walks from his bathroom to the kitchen of his home, John towel dries off his hair when his doorbell sounds through the house. His immediate reaction is one of question. He tilts his head, furrows his brows and wracks his brain for a memory of potentially making plans that he had then completely forgotten about. Instead, he begins to wonder if there was a chance he had leaked his address and would be met with paparazzi or fans standing on his doorstep. The villa player draws blank on both of those thought processes, and is snapped from them when the a harsh knocking accompanies the sound of said doorbell.

His feet hurry him towards the door, taking the opportunity to look at the doorbell footage he could access from the little alarm box on the wall just next to it. His eyes are met with you standing on his porch dripping from the rain, shivering in soaked clothes and very possibly crying.

He reaches for the door immediately, tugging the heavy thing open with eyes wide, "Bloody hell, you have a key!" He exclaims, ushering you in as he removed his hair towel from around his neck to drape over your shoulders while you close the door behind you. Your lips are a little blue from the winter chill that had blown the cold rain through your clothes. "Forgot it." You chitter, entire body shivering with the painful force to try and conserve some form of heat.

John grabs a bigger towel, one that's much softer and warmer. "Strip off," he orders hurriedly, turning his back to go back into the kitchen and see if he left any clothes in his dryer from the load he put in earlier. "Sh-shouldn't you take me t-t-to dinner first?"

Your half hearted, shivering attempt at a joke doesn't make him laugh like it usually would. He turns around to shoot you a disapproving scowl. "I'll get you some warm clothes, get dried."

You do as told, or attempt to. It's hard when you can't feel your fingers to get a grip on anything more than the zipper of the zip up hoodie you'd had on. You try to shake the material from your shoulders, but your whole body is stiff with the tight muscles that the freezing temperatures had inflicted upon you.

"You'll end up with hypothermia," John rushes, dropping the warm clothes down on the cabinet by the door where you still stand, surrounded by a puddle of rainwater. He works quickly, but carefully to shed you of the zipper, then looks to you for permission to lift your t-shirt over your head. He hands you the warm, dry towel to cover yourself with so he can unclip your soaked bra. Shoes off next, he discards them off behind him as water literally pools from them. You keep that towel around you, patting at your skin as he tries to get your leggings off as painlessly as possible, but every touch still hurts. Your pants, you insist on doing by yourself even if it is a struggle while John holds up the towel.

He didn't bother to even make an attempt at pulling the hair bobble out of your hair, John just snaps the thin black band wordlessly, easily between his fingers before he orders you to flip your hair so he can tied it in another warm towel.

"Why were you out in that?" He asks as he sits you down in his cosy living room with a new, drier towel. You're still chittering, which is worrying but John had learned a lot from coaches behaviours towards the teams when they come off after games played on nights like these. "It's negative 6 degrees."

Warming up was the most important thing, just not too quickly.

You avert your eyes from his, chewing slightly on your lip. "(y/n)," John presses, moving to occupy the space on the couch next to you. You sit forward on the couch so you both sit shoulder to shoulder, his head turns to you while yours faces the floor. "David kicked me out, I didn't have my keys and my phone wasn't charged so I couldn't call you. Busses were off for the weather and the snow covered the train lines yesterday, plus I don't have any money with me so I was scuppered there too. I did some grovelling at the door then I walked here when he wouldn't let me back it."

John's jaw all but hits the floor as anger infiltrates the worry coursing through his veins.

"Don't..." you sigh, trailing off as you stand up with a loose shake of your head. "Don't look at me like that John. I'm gonna go get changed."

The sound of your bare feet padding off through his house holding the warmed pile of his clothes he gave to you was one that he would certainly like to get used to, but you had both done this dance so many times he knew it wasn't something he could count on. Usually you'll call him though, or he'll go and pick you up after a mutual breakup. You've never come on no notice and it's never been because of something like this. John hadn't heard from you in a few weeks either, you had his mind reeling.

Even more so when you reappeared, dry hair tied back out of your face with his grey joggers and black t-shirt drowning you in its size. They were him homebody comfy clothes, so they were bought to be even a little big on him. He had to admit they looked a lot better on you, though.

In the time you were gone, John had made hot chocolate and brought through his biscuit tin to sit on the couch between you both. Words weren't deemed necessary to find a movie he knew you would like. That and he knew you didn't want to talk, so even if he tried it would have been like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall.

He keeps looking over at you, trying to do so discreetly by flicking his eyes over in your direction. Those little giggles at Hugh Grants exasperated facial expressions while James Can disposes of a body in a trunk in the 1999 rom com you loved so much. The movie is good, but your reactions to every time you watch it just like each time is the first time. John can't understand why a man would ever do anything that would wipe that little grin off your perfect lips. How anyone could ever put anyone out on their doorstep in a  storm like that, but least of all someone who was supposed to love you. If it were up to John, you would have been wrapped in a blanket the second the rain pour started, curled in his arms falling asleep to the sound of the thunder rumble and the rain pattering against the street. That was his dream, the one he couldn't keep a girlfriend because of. All he wanted was you and nobody else ever lived up to that.

He wishes he could scream at you, tell you that those very sorry excuses for men that you end up with and what you have with them isn't love. Or maybe you do love them, but they do not love you. They like the idea of you, someone free spirited and always ready to fall in love.

It truly seemed as though you could fall in love with anyone but the one man who wanted you the most.

Watching you fall asleep on his couch, head resting on the high armrest with knees curled up and his blanket still tucked around you with a tiny little bit of chocolate on the corner of your lip sends his heart racing a mile a minute. It feels so right to have you there. He feels guilty for enjoying it. Your heart was broken even if you wouldn't say a word about it and here he was enjoying it.

He uses his foot to push open the spare bedroom door just along the hall from his room. John lays you down carefully on top of the duvet, letting your head nuzzle into his plush pillows as your eyes remain shut in soft sleep. He grabs another blanket for you and makes sure the heating is right up in the room before he leaves you there with an ache in his chest.

He goes to check on you in the middle of the night, finding you not in the room but instead standing in his kitchen still shrouded in blankets with crazy sleep hair and tired eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, startling you ever so slightly. You shrug, moving to take a seat at his kitchen island. “Woke up and got all messed up thinking about how i have literally nothing.” You mumble in response, your voice thick with the desire to burst into tears. It breaks his heart to see you so defeated, your eyes never meeting his as they stare pointedly down at the marble surface. “I’m sorry.” John says, “Really. He’s an arsehole. I can go round and grab some stuff for you tomorrow if you want.” He offers, his apology as sincere as they come. But you shake your head with only a quick glance up at him. John isn’t hot tempered at all. He’s mellow, easygoing and funny. Never quick to anger and never the type to get into a fight but by god is he protective of you. You worry about the kind of blow that would come to his career if he gets an assault charge against your ex when he inevitably doesn’t let John into the house to get any of your stuff while probably barraging you with insults.

“It’s not worth it.” You admit. “It’s less physical. Just leaves me empty, i guess. ‘Cause i gave everything to that relationship and how i have nothing left to give.” The heartbreak and the weight of your words will weigh on John’s mind probably for years to come. How someone could do that to you he will never understand. There’s nothing he wants more in this world than for you to be his to love. He wants to shower you with praise, make you realise how strong you are and remind you every single day that he loves you. That’s what you deserve. You deserve kindness and encouragement and support. He wishes more than anything to be the guy who could give that to you instead of watching you enter into relationships with the worst men he’s ever known only to see you torn down at the other side of it.

“You’ve got me.” He offers. He knows that’s probably not what you want to hear and it might not give you the kind of relief he wishes he could give. But you smile softly and stand up, shuffling over to him under blankets and his warm clothes until you reach him. You don’t really hug him, just lean against him with your cheek on his chest. John wraps his arms around you tightly and feels you sigh contently. He’s your John. The burly Scottish lad who makes you laugh when you feel like crying, who looks after you and keeps you pushing forward when life feels like it’s stacked against you. “Yeah. I love you, John.” You hum softy. John can feel the small smile on your lips against the thin material of the shirt he wore to sleep in because his house was like a sauna with the heating to keep your warm. He can tell you’re about to fall asleep there because he supports most of your weight. He holds you to him, rubbing your back soothingly as you nod ever so slightly against him.

“Even when i’ve got nothing, i’ve got you.”

[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 9

Premis:

When The League of Villains discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you’re in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word count: 2,756

Warnings: Cursing

A/N:

Oh dear lord I'm slow at getting these out. Life's been kickin' my ass lately. But thank you to everyone who's been giving me feedback on my stuff, I really love to hear from you guys!

Taglist: 

(So sorry, I forgot when I originally posted!) 

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

@kamenoyaki @hentaiqween101 @skzero-99 @justanotherlifeff

@witch-o-memes​

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Two months. You've been "missing" for two months now. The days flew by, your time occupied by quirk training Shigaraki insisted on but never told you why. The times you tried to ask he'd brush it off, or say something like:

"So you don’t throw another fit." His words were harsh but he said them with a flat and bored tone. Like it was a poorly acted line.

So now you had better control. You could move things on command, you knew basic combat, you certainly knew how to kick Dabi's ass by now, that didn't take too long. You were being allowed more and more freedom. Even allowed to leave for a convenience store runs with Toga once or twice. No one policed you, told you what you could and could not do anymore. You could have easily ran away by now. You supposed they really didn't need you either. For their plan to work all they would need was some blood and Toga could easily pass as you.

That idea sent a shiver down your spine. You're sure Shigaraki has thought of that already, so why hadn't he? Why was he training you? Would he use your quirk against the heroes in some way? Was he grooming you to turn and fight your father? You wouldn't. No matter what you wouldn't fight your father. Would you? You shook yourself of this thought as you walked down the ally to the back door of the hide out.

Toga unlocked the door and you stepped in, greeted by a dark and dingy back room. You made your way through the dark halls, following closely behind her as she led you up the stairs that finally led to the parts of the building with power. Soon you found yourself walking to the familiar living space where a few people rested. Dabi laid himself out on one of the couches, Spinner sat fiddling with his burner phone, and Twice had started yelling at the TV before you arrived.

"Luuuunch!" Toga shouted. Toga was often used as the errand girl, she brought back necessary supplies, oftentimes food. Today Toga asked you to tag along and help out, and there wasn't a single objection to the hostage going out on the town. You sat the heavy bags down on the coffee table, taking out the contents as you spoke.

"Where are the others?" You asked.

"Mr. Compress was sent on an errand of his own. And Shigaraki's probably pouting in his room. He'll come out when he's hungry." Dabi groaned as he took his meal from your hand.

"Oh. I'll just bring it to him." You said, absent-minded. All eyes turned to you, looking confused and shocked. "What?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just-"

"He doesn't like to be disturbed." Toga and Twice spoke. You paused and looked at the box in your hand. It would get cold if he didn't eat soon, and besides, none of you had had much to eat lately, you were sure he was hungry. You knew you were.

"I'll just leave it at the door and knock. It'll get cold and then he'll be in an even worse mood." You told them. They watched you turn and walk up the stairs to his "room". You stood in front of the door, with such thin walls you could hear furious typing on the other side. Loud clicking of a mouse, and the sound of a computer's fan. You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Suddenly the sounds abruptly stopped, followed by a bark.

"What!?"

"Foods here." You called back. You heard footsteps on the other side growing louder and louder until the door flew open. You stared up at the tall man as he looked down on you. His hair hung over his face, his eyes hardly visible. Your heart rate quickened the longer you looked at him. What the hell is wrong with you?

"Give it to me." He held out his hand, his pinky holding out in preparation to receive the box.

"You said you liked spice stuff, right?" You asked as you placed it in his hand.

"Yeah."

"We got you their spicy special. I hope it's not too much. The sign said 'caution' on it." He scoffed at you, turning the box and looking at the writing on it. He fell very quiet. Inspecting the box, you suddenly worried that something was wrong with it. That maybe you'd messed up somehow. But before your anxiety could reach its peak-

"Thank you." His voice was low and soft. You could hardly hear him. Then before you could respond he closed the door and left you alone again. Did he really say that? You never heard him say that to anyone. Granted, you hardly knew him but still, the way he said it, it made you feel... special in some way. You shook yourself from your train of thought and shuffled down the hallway, pausing when you heard movement and the door to Shigaraki's room open. You froze.

"Wait a minute." He barked. You turned too look at him. He hung out of the doorway to stare at you.

"W-What?" You asked. Shigaraki had a way of making people feel like they were in trouble. His ability to easily become an authority figure was something you were beginning to understand now.

"You...went out?" You nodded. He paused and looked away, his eyes shifting as the gears spun in his head. He turned back into his room as he spoke, "come here for a second." He asked. You slowly made your way to his room, the door left wide for you to peak inside. A dark room lit by portable light fixtures and a laptop computer which sat on an old desk. A cot thrown to the corner covered by the same old and tattered blankets the rest of you had.

"Am I... in trouble?" You croaked.

"What? No. Close the door behind you, you'll let in a draft." He ordered, seeming genuinely confused by your question. You closed the door behind you, leaving you completely alone with him in his space. Your heart raced.

You watched him turn and look up at the wall which he had decorated with plans. Pictures of heroes and villains cut out and pinned. Newspaper clippings, printed out articles and research essays. He was planning something, but what it was was difficult to determine. You did notice however, a cut out of an empty figure with your name on it pinned to the center of it all. You stared at it for a second before he broke you from your train of thought.

"Well?"

"Huh!?"

"What do you think?" He asked. His attention turned to his meal, he picked at it, taking a few bites.

"Of what?"

"...the plan." You looked back at the wall, puzzled you tried your best to gain any sort of information from it. Only being able to find bits and pieces. You knew it involved you, your father, and the take down of hero society. A cut out piece of article said something about the rise of villains, that more and more people were turning to villain work. How those rates have a correlation with classes. You slowly turned back to look at him.

"I'm sorry you're gonna have to explain this to me." You told him. He rolled his eyes and stood, directing his attention to his work as he spoke.

"This is the second part of the plan."

"What was the first?"

"Taking you as a hostage."

"Right. But, didn't you say the plan was to expose the heroes after they weren't able to rescue me and not only expose the faulty heroes but also my father as a neglectful and flawed individual not worthy of the hero title?" He paused.

"Yes."

"But that didn't go as planned."

"....."

"Didn't you say something about making a video to broadcast outing myself as All Might's daughter and causing panic? What happened to that plan?"

"It became leverage. If they attempt to come for you, then we'll go with that. But if we do that now, they'll come for you now and we'll be forced to fight."

"Isn't a fight...a good thing? You'd get news coverage and You'd no doubt gain supporters."

"Normally it would. But a fight isn't what we need right now. The heroes have us surrounded. If we make any move at all, we're in their hands. We won't be able to win."

"Not even with your quirk? Couldn't you-"

"Not with everyone here. As strong as I've gotten, I'm not strong enough to keep them from getting swept up and dusted too."

"Right."

"We're in a tight spot. One wrong move and we'll be wiped out."

"What about your supporters? Couldn't you get help from the outside."

"I could, but the heroes would see it coming. They have our signal tapped. Any sort of communication has to be verbal or written."

"Homing pigeon?" You offered. It made him smirk.

"Right now we're like a fox trapped in its own hole by hunters."

"So... we dig?" That made him smile, wide.

"Dig. If we could smuggle ourselves out of the city, we could reach a clear spot where we can call for backup to get us."

"Why not send one person to smuggle themselves out? Toga could easily disguise herself and leave."

"They have a barrier."

"What?"

"Part of the city is closed off until further notice. They know exactly where we are. If one gets out, they won't hesitate to come for all of us. We all have to get out at once and they can't notice until it's too late."

"But how the hell are you gonna do that?" His smile widened. He looked truly excited and happy. For the first time you saw your capture seem truly excited about something.

"We have a few secret recruits in the city. Spies." He turned his attention back to his meal box, reaching in to pull out the inner box that held the food, to reveal a piece of paper sitting underneath in the flimsy take out box. "I didn't know they were letting you out of the base now." He spoke as he opened and read the note within the box.

"I thought, you knew. I thought you were the one that said I could. Dabi said it was fine." He read the note and stood to pin it up on the wall before speaking.

"I've been too busy with this to worry about you. You shouldn't believe everything that Dabi says. I told him to make sure you just don't have another episode and cause a scene before we leave. I thought assigning him babysitting duty would keep him busy." He chuckled. "There's just one thing I don't understand." He turned back to you. "Why didn't you leave?"

"I...I..."

"You had the opportunity, but you're still here. Why?" You froze. Why? Why didn't you run?

"I was scared I'd be killed." You lied. He laughed at you.

"Don't lie to me. You lost that fear a long time ago. You know that's not true. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you a long time ago."

"You've kept me alive to use me as bate. To, to expose the truth." You argued.

"With Toga, we wouldn't need to." You swallowed hard. You knew he had thought about this.

"I'll tell you why I stayed, if you tell me why you've been training me." He scoffed.

"To keep you busy, to keep you from having another episode."

"That doesn't make sense. You could have drugged me, killed me, you said it yourself. But you kept me alive, you kept me busy. You could have kept me on my meds, unable to use it at all but you insisted I learn my quirk. You trained me yourself. Why?" His smile faded and his expression became dark.

"I asked you first." He growled. You looked away from him and thought for a moment before gaining the strength to answer. You knew the truth for a while now. You never wanted to say it out loud. You refused to look at him as you spoke.

"I don't wanna go back. But you probably already knew that by now. You just wanted to hear me say it, huh?" His smirk returned.

"Had a hunch." He snickered.

"Now you answer me."

"Why don't you wanna go back?"

"We had a deal. Answer my question now." You barked at him. It took him a long pause. A full minute of waiting in silence felt like agony.

"I thought it would help you feel better." He muttered in a surprisingly husky tone. "Keep you from asking me to dust you again." That's right, during your episode...

"I'm sorry." You blurted.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I... I asked you to kill me." You hid your face from him. He shifted and crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's not a big deal, I dust people all the time."

"No, I know. But like, I can't imagine being asked to by someone having a fucking break down happens all the time too. I kinda...kinda put you in a shitty position." When you looked up, he looked confused. Comically so. "What?"

"I took you hostage." He reminded you. You couldn't help but chuckle, that made him more confused.

"Shit, yeah, you're right. Guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself huh?" He looked away. "Still. My intentions weren't to upset you."

"You didn't upset me."

"It seems like I upset you." You toyed. His guard was down, he was vulnerable, and allowing you to be there.

"Shut up. You didn't answer my other question!" He shouted in an almost playful tone. You couldn't help but smile, only to have it slowly fade as you thought about your second answer.

"I don't want to go back because..." you stopped, the words getting stuck in your throat. You were unable to speak. He looked down at you, waiting for an answer. He seemed almost relaxed. He seemed normal. Like a normal guy leaning against the wall of his bedroom with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes wandered up to his scarred neck, bright red scabs forming. Inflamed and fresh. He had recently scratched at it again, clearly in an upset state too. When he blinked you got a clear view of the scarring around his eyes.

"Boss!" A familiar voice shouted from outside the door. "Boss!" Before you could move the door was thrown open, Spinner's wide eyes finding you standing there. He shook his confusion loose before turning back to Shigaraki who quickly changed his position to attention. "Come quick!"

You followed him back to the living space where the old television sat. The news playing loudly as everyone gathered around to watch in panic. Swat teams and heroes decorated the screen as shot after shot showed them surrounding your building. Fear ran from your toes to your head, making you feel nauseous and dizzy. Shit. Shit. Shit. They're here for you. But you...you weren't ready to leave. And what about-

"Not again! - We can take 'em'!" Twice shouted at it like a sport was playing.

"Tomura, what are we going to do!?" Toga asked, frantically bobbing up and down in panic. He watched the TV intently listening in.

"After receiving a tip from an anonymous source, police and heroes found missing tourist Y/L/N Y/N being held captive by The League of Villains in this abandoned office building. Officials are working now to safely rescue the hostage."

Suddenly a loud voice was heard both on TV and through the halls of the building.

"League of Villains. We have you surrounded. Please let Y/L/N go and no one will be hurt." A cop shouted through a megaphone.

"C'mon Shigaraki, what's the plan?" Dabi asked, clearly starting to get uncomfortable. Before Shigaraki could respond, you spoke.

"Well, looks like this is it for me." You began walking away, only to be stopped by a strong, four-fingered grip pulling you back.

"Where do you think you're going!?" He growled.

"The jig is up, Shigaraki! Let me go! I'm not useful anymore. All they want is me, if I'm out of your hair you'll be able to escape easier." His grip tightened, pulling you closer as his red eyes bore into yours.

"So long as you're here they won't dare make a move. You're still my most valuable player. You're staying right here."

[mhdiaries]

SDCC 2015 Kieran Valentine Diary

May 1st

When I left Monster High after Draculaura’s Sweet 1,600 birthday party, I was angry, humiliated and stinky from falling into that pit of eternal body odor. I stank so bad, Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house: I had to sleep in the guest room above the garage. Looking back, I can see it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Even my considerable powers to charm were no match for the power of the stench that surrounded me. My powers slowly weakened as I was deprived of what sustained them: the love I selfishly took from others. I was in a stench-induced imprisonment - rarely leaving the garage - but it allowed me time to do some serious thinking, and I realized I wasn’t being true to myself. Then one day there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a little old goblin woman with a cane staring up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Mrs. Goblin, but you can call me “Mrs. Goblin.” I’m a friend of your mother’s.” She said, “you need to get out of that room, and I need some help, so let’s go.” She turned and walked off, and, with nothing left to lose, I followed. It turned out that she ran an unwanted-creature shelter and couldn’t keep up with all the cleaning, feeding and daily upkeep. It also turned out that she had no sense of smell. “Lost it back in ‘72,” she told me. Mrs. G. ran me through the daily routines and gave me the tour. “You can start today,” she said as she handed me a mop and a bucket. It’s hard to believe I agreed, but I didn’t have any other options. The shelter was home to an unusual collection of exotic creatures: gremlins, flying monkeys, lap dragons, miniature manticores, and many others that had been picked up as strays or turned in by monsters who didn’t want them. Even though the work was hard, and not always pleasant, I began to look forward to it. In fact, I usually felt more energized after I finished a day than when I started. I felt my powers returning and every day I got stronger. Eventually, I mentioned it to Mrs. Goblin who snickered, “You emotional vampires never get it - stolen love is just empty calories. I’ll never sustain you for long.” She could tell I still didn’t get it. “Love that’s freely given is the most powerful source of energy in the monster universe. You’ve been coming here every day, taking care of these critters, showing them kindness, and the only thing they have to give you is their love - and believe me, they have a lot to give.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I must have been standing there looking stupid because she said, “Close your mouth before the the flies get in and go clean the flying monkey cage. They’ve been throwing stuff again.” I was in a daze. Why had no one ever explained this to me? Rather than dwelling on it, I was just happy I finally knew. 

May 3rd

I now know that I did it - stealing love - because I thought that’s want an emotional vampire was supposed to do. But it never felt quite right. I thought if I kept doing it, it would eventually feel right. But it only made me angry and frustrated. Then when Draculaura called me - well, Toralei, really - I thought that if I could get the heart that got away, it would change me and everything would be fine. But I was just a real pain in the fang to everyone and made a fool of myself. So I’ve come to a conclusion: being myself has to be easier than not being myself, right? Back then, I hated the thought of who I really was, and that conflict made me become someone who wasn’t me. It’s time to be true to myself, but it’s scary. 

July 1st

Today was my one-year anniversary at the shelter. As I left the garage, I ran into Mom. She sniffed. “You don’t stink anymore.” It was true - the stench was gone. I gave Mom a hug and told her it must be due to what I’d learned from working for Mrs. Goblin. I thanked Mom for telling her I needed help. Mom looked at me strangely, “What are you going on about? I don’t know a Mrs. Goblin.” What? I ran to the shelter but when I got there it was boarded up and empty. How could this be? I crawled through a broken out window. A thick layer of dust covered everything and it looked like no one had been there in years. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table where Mrs. G. used to sit and drink her tea. It was a not addressed to me:

V, 

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely, 

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again. 

July 2nd

I decided that I would try and “do the right thing” by heading back to MH to try and make up for my mistakes. I thought if I hid in the shadows and helped the couples of MH, you know be a Cupid to what was my destruction of love, I could make a difference and they would see that I was a changed monster. Well, my intentions were good, but things did not go as I had planned. I kinda, no, did, mess things up. Luckily, it all seemed to work out in the end, I guess, just not as I had hoped. I don’t think any of Draculaura and her friends will ever really trust me. And while I hope one day they can see I have changed, I know it will take time, too. I guess I can’t expect them to just forgive me right away. I will say one good thing hopefully came out of it. While attempting to hide in the shadows I bumped into a student I didn’t recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello, he had only been at MH a couple weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH one day if I can. He said he’d keep me up on the groanings on around the halls if I wanted, so I gave him my number. At least the trip wasn’t a total stake. I do wish I could figure out how to make it up to Draculaura and her friends though. I know now that real friends help each other with their problems, not try to solve them for them.

July 7th

I was tempted to stay in my room today and treat myself to a monstrous blue funk, but, instead, I walked aimlessly outside until I found myself sitting on the beach watching the sun go down. That’s when I noticed something unusual partially buried in the sand. I pulled it out and die-scovered it was an ornate lantern caked with seaweed. I brushed it off... and got the shock of my unlife! The lantern began vibrating and glowing, like I had awakened something inside and it was not trying to get out. I dropped it like it was hot and fell back as smoke swirled up and out of this thing. When the smoke cleared away there was a ghoul floating above me. “I am the djinni of the lantern. What is your wish?”

July 10th

The djinni’s name is Whisp and we have something in common: the direction of our unlives changed because of Monster High. We shared our stories and struggles; neither of us has made the beast decisions, but we both want to be better monsters. We talked so much that Whisp had to remind me I had three wishes. I asked her I should wish for and she said, “I cannot tell you what to wish for, nor can I tell you what not to wish for, but I can say be scareful what you wish for.” I laughed and told her that sounded ominous. She didn’t see the humor in her statement. “Wishes are tricky things,” she replied, “They often have a mind of their own and don’t always come true in the way you expected.” I thought for a moment, and wish I could go back to Monster High and fix the things I had broken. Whisp rose into the air, her eyes glowing, and said, “As you wish.” Instantly, I was back at Draculaura’s Sweet 1600 party, only I was dressed like a repairman - tool belt and all. Headless Headmistress Bloodgood stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to repair the barrier around the pit of eternal body odor before another monster falls into it!” This wasn’t what I meant by “fixing what I had broken,” and there was no way I was getting close to that pit again. That’s when the other students saw me. A very large minotaur pointed his finger at me, “There he is again! Throw him back into the pit!” I wished myself out of MH and back in my room just in time to avoid another dunking. Two wishes down, one to go.

July 12th

Whisp has been very apologetic but she needn’t be. I wished for something so general that it could have been granted in numerous ways. What I really wanted was a chance to do something unselfish for the monsters I hurt - to give and not take. When I started working for Mrs. G., there were times I wished what someone else would do the dirty work so I could just play with the creatures. Now I know I just wished it to be easy. Whenever I was in the middle of something particularly loathsome, Mrs. G. would cackle, “Sometimes work stinks, doesn’t it?” The first few times she said it, I wanted to drop everything and go home. But I stuck it out, and, although I still have a long way to go, I’m a better monster for it. Unlife is a lot of work and I guess some problems aren’t meant to be solved by wishing them so. Speaking of wishes, I need to think of something non-ambiguous for the last one...

August 1st

I summoned Whisp today to grant my final wish. I admit I put it off because I was being selfish. I’ve never had a friend like her, and once my last wish is granted, the lantern will move on and I will probably never see her again. I considered freeing her from the lantern, but I don’t think she wants that: she loves being a djinni, appearing in new places and granting wishes. But I know she gets lonely at times, so this was my wish: “Whisp, I wish we could always be friends.” Whisp rose up, her eyes glowing: “As you wish!” I could see her smiling as she turned to smoke and returned to the lantern, which shot up and disappeared. I thought for a second that my wish wasn’t granted, but then my iCoffin lit up and I noticed a new app icon that looked like a little mirror. I tapped it and there was Whisp! Now, not matter where in the monster universe she is, we can talk to each other! “Yes, Mother, I’m talking to myself down here.”