#I meant to post this like a week ago and life exploded on me so I apologize for the lateness

[mothwingwritings]

When The Smoke Clears

F! Reader X Katsumi Orochi

What’s this?! A Katsumi fic where he is the central focus and has all your love without anyone trying to fuck with your relationship?! It’s more likely than you think. (☞⌐▀͡ ͜ʖ͡▀ )☞

I had forgotten I had written it until I was looking over some old drafts that I started forever ago and never finished. I unearthed this little number that I vaguely remember writing in a fit of passion after originally reading Katsumi’s fight with Pickle. It may be my favorite Baki fight thus far and filled me with all the emotions, so this was born from that lol. And now that the anime released, what a perfect time to finish and post it! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧) Thanks past me and my horrible memory! :D

That being said, since it deals with post battle bullshit, it is a little angsty and you do pop off on Katsumi a little bit in this one. But other than that I just wanted to make something on the sweeter side for our dear boy. He deserves all the love and affection, dammit! 😤 I made it a bit mushy and maybe Katsumi is sorta OOC but to be honest… August has been dreadful and I think I needed it that way to keep me from completely losing it. ^^;

I hope you all enjoy~!

Warnings: Mentions of violence/gore, spoilers up through the Pickle fight w/Katsumi, some language, white lies, you are mean to Katsumi for a lil tiny bit but it’s just cause you are worried. :<

Katsumi Orochi has always been a horrible liar.

He would slightly scrunch his nose when eating something he disliked, while telling the chef he thought it was delicious. His face would noticeably tighten whenever someone was annoying him, even though he acted like they weren’t a bother at all. His shoulders would sag when he didn’t meet his daily goal, though he’d shrug it off and act like it was no big deal.  When he hadn’t done as well as he had hoped during a tournament placing, he’d always don a bright smile and laugh it off by saying there was always time to improve.

Maybe those excuses worked on other people, but you knew him far too well for them to fool you. Katsumi knew you could see right through him and that any attempts at concealing his true feelings were pointless. So it was only in the privacy of your shared home that he let his guard down, letting you truly experience how his self-perceived short comings broke him down.

These moments of self-doubt seemed to be happening more frequently in the past few weeks, specifically since news of Pickle hit the general population. Pickle’s arrival stirred something in the fighters of Shinshinkai Dojo, and try as he might to convince you otherwise, Katsumi was not exempt from this excitement. He always was a cocky man, often times too arrogant for his own good, and the thrill of besting a beast like Pickle was a siren song he could not ignore.

However his cocksure attitude and the exuberance he had for fighting was a double edged sword, often also being the instigator of the ruts he would find himself in. Through his life he had garnered a fair mix of friends and enemies alike- Admirers who were rooting for him and despisers who were praying for his downfall, all inexorably drawn to his proud aura. It wasn’t until Retsu had easily defeated him in the Maximum tournament that a major change sparked within Katsumi. Though admittedly for the better (nothing opens your eyes to your own faults quite like getting your ass handed to you), the total thrashing he had received at the hands of his friend opened his eyes to what was stunting him previously. It was a hard lesson to learn, but a necessary one to shape him into the man he is now.

But the entirety of his doubt would not be quelled so easily, and it remained festering in his heart to this day. The challenge Pickle posed excited him, but also daunted him. The conflicting feelings irritated him, igniting him with the desire to attack, but fettering him from doing so.

When he got like this, no one experienced his lows and frustrations quite like you did. Katsumi’s anger and disappointment at his own limitations had a way of pouring out of him and spilling into you, making his torment become your own. In public it was so easy to get thrown off by his nonchalance and easy smile, his gusto so great that even if you were able to pick up on the turmoil that lied beneath it, it was easy for him to get you to believe he was OK and move on. 

But when you were alone at night and he was lying in your arms, lulled to sleep by the caress of your hand, it broke your heart to hear his whispered apologies. That he could be better and WOULD be better for you. Your gentle assurances that he was already your hero, that you loved him and no amount of losses or wins would change that, always seemed to fall on deaf ears. It ate you up inside to hear him speak so badly of himself. Since day one you had been his most ardent supporter, whatever flaws or negative self-critiques he had that he believed were imposing on your life were purely in his head.

How many times had you told him his feelings of inadequacy as a lover and provider to you were all nothing more than cruel lies his own brain concocted? You wished he would believe you, get it through his thick skull so that he could have one less thing to fret over. All you ever asked or expected of Katsumi was his love and honesty, and those you had unconditionally.

At least, you had until this morning.

Though usually an early riser, he got up sooner than normal, dressed and ready at the very crack of dawn. Smiling down on you as the sun was just beginning to peek through your bedroom window, he brushed your hair away from your sleep ridden face. He was typically eager to get up and go, but today he lingered in your presence, peppering your face and head with soft kisses. Taking full advantage of your barely woken state to express his love, it both warmed your heart and confused you. Katsumi was well aware you could be quite the grump in the morning so he usually avoided giving you too much attention too early, concerned that he may fully wake and irritate you. His slightly obtrusive presence was out of character, and you couldn’t help but be further roused by it.

“I’m leaving a bit early today love,” his whisper tickled your ear, causing you to hunch your shoulders. He chuckled, placing one more kiss on your temple. “…Thank you for sticking by my side. You deserve only happiness throughout your life.”

In your sleepy haze you almost felt you had dreamed his words, but as you squinted at him in the bedroom doorway, the look on his face filled you with concern. He kept his eyes trained on you, staring at you as if they were looking at something very far away. They held a wistful glimmer typically reserved only for painful goodbyes, and paired with the crooked smile on his lips, you couldn’t help feeling that if you let Katsumi leave now, you would regret it the rest of your life.

“Katsu?” You slowly pushed yourself up into a seated position, rubbing the grogginess from your eyes in the process. “Where are you going this early?”

When you turned your full attention back to the door, he was gone.

You dragged yourself out of bed, calling out for him as you padded around the entire apartment. Your cries remained unanswered, as did calls and texts to his cell phone, which made sense when you discovered he had left his phone discarded on the kitchen table.

Seating yourself at the table, you rested your chin in your palm, eying his phone with trepidation. Katsumi wasn’t one of those people who were glued to their phone, if anything he griped at you for how much time you spent on yours. But still, to leave so abruptly, without any means to contact him directly and little explanation to where he was headed… It wasn’t like Katsumi at all.

Distantly, you heard the TV in the background. You must have forgotten to turn it off before you headed to bed yesterday, the volume just quiet enough to blend in as background noise. The usually obnoxious banter of the morning news came as a welcome change today, the sound of other voices keeping you from feeling totally abandoned.  Your eyes flicked to the screen, a ‘breaking story’ about Pickle the hot topic again this morning.

You hadn’t been too keen on the Pickle hype from the get go. You understood it, sure. It was extremely exciting to discover such an intact specimen of humanity from a time when dinosaurs walked the earth, and even more astounding that they were able to revive him, get him up walking and interacting with people and his environment. You were just as tuned in as the rest of the planet, intrigued to hear what breakthroughs and discoveries come from reanimating this prehistoric man.

At the same time however, you couldn’t help feel disgusted over what a media circus his awakening had caused. From the initial live on air assault of that female reporter, to the subsequent late night talk shows hosting a multitude of specials on the moral standpoint of his existence, it all felt dirty to you. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Pickle in most instances. Alone in a foreign world he didn’t understand, surrounded by swarms of people requesting things of him he couldn’t comprehend, it must be an incredibly bewildering and lonely life. You felt equally bad for the people he unintentionally hurt, damaged (sometimes irrevocably) by simply coming in contact with someone so feral.

And that is what put you off about Pickle the most, was how dangerous he was.

Not that he was a direct threat to you, per se, but as soon as news of him hit the media, the entire dojo was abuzz. He was all anyone could seem to talk about or focus on. His strength, his combat style, what it would feel like to fight him. The conversations reminded you of children on the playground coming up with pretend battle scenarios with their friends, their eyes lighting up as they discussed it during warm ups and spars. The first of the group to be truly captivated was Retsu, which took you by surprise. Retsu is one of the most disciplined men you know, so to see him become so single mindedly obsessed over one fight with a single opponent was disconcerting to you.

Curiosity was expected, but all-encompassing obsession could drive people to do unfortunate things, and that was the mindset that encompassed the men around you.

You weren’t thrilled when you learned a whole squad of fighters (Retsu, Katsumi and Doppo amongst them) had broken into a heavily monitored government facility just to come in contact with Pickle, especially when you found out the extent of their plan was ‘get in, find Pickle, fight’. You and Natsue made sure to give them all an earful they weren’t soon to forget when they returned.

You had a hard time comprehending their thought process. Was it worth risking getting arrested for potentially the rest of your life for the chance to battle one person? They all turned rather sheepish under your scolding, but their unified response only boiled down to ‘you just wouldn’t understand.’ You didn’t deny this; there was plenty in the world of fighting you had a hard time empathizing with. But that sentiment could go both ways, because you were positive they couldn’t begin to fathom the myriad of emotions that flowed through you as you watched their walk of shame back to the dojo, knowing  that should it come down to it, they left ready to die at Pickle’s hands. Did they even consider how their loss may affect the people around them, or was the appeal of a once in a lifetime battle so strong that they didn’t care?

You were no fan of Yujiro Hanma, but in this instance you were thankful he was able to get your boys home without further incident.

Alas, things only got worse after Retsu orchestrated the first battle against Pickle. At the time you were not privy to it happening, most likely because Retsu knew just how against the idea you would be and how much it would hurt you to know he was going to participate anyway.

Nothing could quite prepare you for seeing him in that hospital bed, leg half missing and shoulder torn to shreds. Retsu was one of your best friends, undoubtedly one of the strongest and most capable people you know. To see him reduced to a prone state, covered in bandages, chunks of his body missing… You were surprised you were able to hold your tears until you left the room.

Before even leaving the hospital, you had made Katsumi swear to you that he would stay away from Pickle. That whatever devil was sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear to go fight that monster of a man, was ignored from here on out. He had looked you in the eye, earnestly promising you he would stay away from Pickle. You had his word.

But now you feared it was all just idle chatter.

You wanted to have faith, and forced yourself to give Katsumi some time. Maybe he just went out for a jog, or had to run an early errand before going to the dojo? Surely you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion and only assuming the worst.

But the longer you waited, the more your anxiety mounted. You only lasted an hour before you started to make calls.

Doppo, Retsu, Baki, you even grew desperate and tried Katou-none of them answered your call. After a few attempts you were able to get through to Natsue, but she offered very little in the form of comfort, only telling you in a rushed tone that she had been in contact with Katsumi briefly and all was well, before saying she needed to go and disconnecting the call.

The hours that ticked by were maddening. The wait got so overbearing that you eventually decided to go to Shinshinkai to seek answers on your own. If no one would respond to you, you would just have to go to them and force answers from them yourself.

But to your great surprise when you had arrived to the dojo, you found it closed. Locked up and void of any inhabitants, you were dazed. Never before had you ever seen the dojo completely closed and locked up, with nary a soul in sight. Sure, there were holidays and week days where attendance was waning, but the building itself was never fully uninhabited. In fact, some people where there so often it felt like they practically lived there.

However as dumbfounding as it was, it did not change the fact that the Dojo was in fact closed for the day. There wasn’t even a sign on the door explaining why, and when you cupped your hands against the window for a better look inside, you were met with empty dark halls as far as the eye could see.

The building loomed over you, cold and barren as it mocked your attempt at clarification. Planting yourself on the front steps, you buried your face in your hands.  Completely discouraged, the dreadful, creeping realization that Katsumi had gone against his vow over took you. Though you could come to no other conclusion, your mind still struggled to come to terms with it. Did he really go after Pickle? Would he put himself in danger like that and not tell you? Heaviness had settled on your soul, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

… What if Katsumi never returned home?

As if triggered by that horrid thought, your phone began to noisily ring, cutting the tension with its piercing jingle. Fumbling as you fished the phone from your pocket, the screen lit up to show the caller was Retsu.

“Retsu,” Your hurried voice answered before he could greet you, “Where’s Katsumi?”

Save for some background noises you could not decipher, there was silence on the other end. Your heart was pounding in your chest, the hand holding your phone shaking so bad you were worried you may drop the damn thing. After several agonizingly long seconds passed, Retsu let out a heavy sigh.

“He’s at the Ebara memorial hospital,” his voice sounded strained, like he dreaded telling you the news, “We all are. He’s in private room 309 in the ICU. Please come when you can.”

Your body turned to ice at the revelation. Your hand sprang to cover your mouth, muffling the sob that was desperate to come out.

“… (Name),” Retsu questioned on the other end, his voice much softer than previously, “… He’s beat up, but he’s OK. Please, take deep breaths and be safe getting here. The last thing any of us want is you getting into an accident and hurting yourself over this.”

You released a shaky breath, forcing yourself to calm down, “Thank you, Retsu. Tell Katsumi I’ll be there soon.”

~

You had spent the whole cab ride there mentally readying yourself for what awaited you. Was Katsumi in a coma, could he talk? What if he was hurt so badly you couldn’t recognize him? What if he was beaten so intensely he had become a vegetable? You tried to quell your concerns with Retsu’s reassuring words, but your anxiety kept winning out in the end. ‘OK’ was not the descriptor you were looking for, you wanted to hear that Katsumi was safe and in one piece, up and functioning. You wanted an explanation about the lack of communication- reassurance that it was just some big misunderstanding and he was sorry to make you worry.

But that was just your desire speaking, and the reality of the situation was that he truly had broken a promise to you and got himself hurt in the process, bad enough to be in an ICU in god knows what condition.  Tears stung your eyes as you forced yourself to breath, focus on the fact that Katsumi was alive and being cared for, that he was no longer in danger. But even the relief those facts brought was diminished in your heart, overshadowed by the immense pain you felt over his betrayal and what state you may discover him in.

When you arrived at the hospital, Retsu greeted you in the entrance lobby. His eyes were serious, but a tired smile graced his lips when he saw you rush through the door. As he led you to Katsumi’s room he did his best to try and soothe you, telling you that Katsumi was awake and alert, heavily drugged so that his pain was nearly nonexistent. You only half listened, nodding every now and again to let Retsu know you heard him, even if the words weren’t truly absorbing. Your sole focus was getting to Katsumi, seeing with your own two eyes that he was as alive and well as Retsu was stating he was.

Just as you had reached the door to Katsumi’s room, Retsu halted you from going any further. Shooting him a look, he placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you are upset,” his words were deliberate, his eyes fixed on yours as he spoke calmly, “And you have every right to be. We kept this fight from you to protect you, but I now see that even with our best intention, that has done more harm than good.  Just please understand (Name)… You are the most important person to Katsumi. He did not do this to cause you any misery or strife. I know I may have no right to ask this, but try not to be too hard on him.”

You gave Retsu a quick nod, steeling yourself as you focused your attention back to the door, “Please, let me see him.”

When the door was pushed open, a rush of emotions washed over you. Frozen in the entryway, words could not describe the consolation you felt seeing him sitting up in the hospital bed, his eyes lighting up in recognition as they passed over you. Your body began to shake, overcome with relief to see him breathing and attentive, elation coursing through you so fiercely you felt lightheaded. Another wave of happiness overtook you when he smiled at you, bright and full of love, the frigid grip of fear instantly began to loosen its hold on your heart.

But when you took in the rest of him, your joy began to waver. He was covered from head to toe in wounds, vicious purple and black bruising marring his pale flesh, cuts and scrapes painting him in strokes of vibrant red. And that was just the areas you could see-A vast majority of his body was wrapped up in bandages, as if someone was trying to mummify him while still alive, giving him a very macabre essence.

The most shocking however was the notable absence of his right arm. Despite the discourteousness you exhibited by staring at such an injury, you couldn’t look away. Katsumi noticed you honing in on it, his smile weakening at the concern reflecting in your eyes. He looked abashed, like a child caught by their mother after doing something they knew they shouldn’t have. He shifted his body slightly as if to try and hide the missing limb, growing increasingly bothered over how it was unsettling you.

“Hi baby. I’m glad you came.”

His words broke your spell, and you rushed to his side, stopping just as you reached the bed. You wanted desperately to fling your arms around his neck, pull him close to you and feel his warmth, experience firsthand the life force that thrummed through him. But you stopped yourself from doing so, partially out of fear of hurting him, but more so over just how jarring he looked close up. You were sure the doctors did all they could to clean him up, but blood still seeped through his bandages, irritated flesh held together by countless stitches made him look far too corpse like for your liking. His eyes seemed so tired, and you had a hard time discerning if the heavy bags and dark shadows that rested beneath them were due to exhaustion or were another lesion from the fight.

Tears began to pour from your eyes, coming in a violent downpour. Your breathing grew labored as you wept, your hands balling into tight fists at your side.

“Katsumi…”

His name came out strained, and his shoulders tensed as he watched you cry. You saw his right shoulder quiver, a deep frown immediately engulfing his face. He must have tried to reach out to you with his phantom limb, his body not yet use to its absence. But the reminder of what he had lost didn’t upset him nearly as much as your tears did.

“(Name)-“

“Shut up!”

You cut him off, a look of surprise flashing across his features over the bite in your voice. Your anger startled you as well-it had consumed you in a flash, leaving you with no choice but to ride it out and voice the worst of the pain you were feeling. Distressed, garbled words began to spill from your lips in an exasperated tirade, a culmination of all the frustration you had felt up to this point.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” your voice wavered, tears so heavy you could barely make out the man by your side, “Why did you do this Katsumi?! You promised me you would stay away from Pickle! You PROMISED me you wouldn’t fight him! Do you know how fucking scared I was when you left this morning? Do you know how horrible it felt not being able to get ahold of anyone for answers, how shitty it was to be left clueless? I thought you were dead Katsu! I thought I may lose you forever and I spent this entire day broken over the thought that I would have to live the rest of this life without you in it!”

Your hands wiped roughly at your eyes, trying in vain to clear the mucus and tears from your reddened face. Katsumi opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it, letting you continue your vent uninterrupted.

“Was it worth it? Fighting Pickle, losing a limb and nearly your life, driving me to the brink of heartbreak? Did it scratch your itch? Do you feel better now? I just don’t get it, wasn’t it enough to see what was done to Retsu, or were you really so blinded with stupid levels of machismo that you felt you were untouchable? What would have happened if you actually died? How do you think Doppo and Natsue would have felt, or all the people in the dojo? What would I have ever done without you? If I lost you, I wouldn’t even want to live anymore you dumbass idiot! This whole thing is so fucking stupid!”

For a short time, the only sound that could be heard in the room was your muffled cries. Retsu had long since left, leaving you and Katsumi alone to wallow in your oppressive grief. Slowly, your tears began to die down, shrinking down from a raging torrent to small sniffles and hiccups. After sufficient time was given to collect yourself, Katsumi quietly addressed you.

“… (Name)?”

You looked up at him, slightly embarrassed now that your passionate explosion had died down. He took a deep breath before continuing, turning his full attention your way.

“I’m not expecting you to understand why I did this,” His words came out like a caress, gentle and kind, matching the sincere look he held in his eyes, “Honestly, I am not sure I completely understand it myself. What you said is correct; I did this for my own selfish reasons. I single mindedly went after Pickle to test myself, to prove that I could take him on, and out of fear of missing out on a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

He took a deep breath before continuing, “Though you may hate to hear it, I don’t regret this fight at all, even with the lasting damage it did to my body. But what I do regret is how this has impacted you, and I realize now the way I went about this in regards to you was all wrong. I should have never hidden my intentions, I was just so afraid of upsetting you that I convinced myself that this was the best way to handle it. You know me, I guess I had to take the hard path to find out just how wrong I was.”  He gave a forlorn chuckle.

“I never want to hurt you. I never want to make you cry. The moment you became mine I vowed to keep you happy and smiling, but I broke that vow and went against my promise to you. You have every right to be mad, and I understand if you stay mad at me for a while, but I want you to know this. I only took on Pickle because I earnestly believed I had a chance at beating him, and I only believed I had a chance of winning because of how strong I have become.”

A wide smile spread over his face as he beamed at you, his eyes softening as he held your gaze.

“I am only this strong largely thanks to you, (Name),” He averted his eyes, a small blush gracing his cheeks as he continued, “Without your ceaseless support and steadfast love and commitment, I would have never made it this far. You give me strength, and each victory I claim is just as much yours as it is my own. I love you with all that I am, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone tear me away from you prematurely, be it caveman or otherwise.”

He laughed a bit, returning his focus back your way, “So please, stop crying baby. I’m here, and I don’t intend on going anywhere anytime soon.”

The warmth in his voice caused a fresh bout of tears to cloud your vision. You looked at your feet, unable to stand the pious endearment he was heaping upon you.

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke, your hands going to cover your face in embarrassment, “I’m sorry I yelled at you Katsu. I said horrible things to you that I didn’t mean, I was just so worried I couldn’t stand it…”

As your voice trailed off, you felt his hand rest softly atop your head. Pulling your attention back his way, you stared at his radiant smile through your fingers, butterflies flitting through your stomach as your eyes drank him in.

“No, I’m glad you can be honest with me. Sometimes I need someone to give me a verbal lashing to bring me back down to earth,” he chuckled, shooting you a worn out smirk, “And besides, you’re right, it is stupid. Though I did consider your feelings, I let my own overcloud my better judgment. I should have never kept you in the dark. I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you like this.”

He leaned over, placing his wrapped hand on your wet cheek, wiping away any tears that lingered. Slowly, he guided your face towards his until your foreheads were touching.

“Thank you for loving an idiot like me,” He murmured, tears dotting his own eyes as they gazed at you tenderly, “I’ll never betray your trust again, you have my word.”

Unable to stand it any longer, you flung your arms around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace, gingerly stroking his hair and face as you cried out the last of your sorrow. He in turn buried his face into your chest, whispering words of love and thanks as if he were chanting a spell to help drive away your residual woes.

Seconds turned into minutes as you held each other. After an indiscriminate amount of time had passed your tears had been quelled, and an air of peace replaced the stagnant feeling of the once oppressive hospital room. Katsumi listened to your heart beat, sighing happily as he lost himself in your hold. You smiled down at him, kissing the crown of his head softly.

“Now that you scratched that itch, which do you prefer,” you asked teasingly, a sly smile taking over your face, “Pickle’s hold, or mine? If you answer incorrectly here I am going to use your weakened state to my advantage and kick your ass.”

Katsumi laughed loudly, pulling away till he was looking up at you, “Are you threatening a wounded man right now? And here I thought you were a sweet, gentle girl…”

“Only to nice people,” you flicked his forehead playfully, “Not mean people, like you. It’s going to take quite a bit to make this up to me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He cocked his brow, “Why not shoot me some ideas. Whatever it is to get back in my lady loves good graces, I’m all ears.”

“Hmm,” you mused, finger tapping your cheek, “How about setting up a fight for me? Pickle has pissed me off sufficiently by hurting not just my friends, but now also the love of my life. I think I have enough rage built up in me that I can finish the job you all started, don’t you agree?”

Another laugh, “As much as I would love to see that, I want you as far away from Pickle as possible, thank you. If that man laid his hands on you in any capacity I would be forced to break my promise and go after him again, understand? I think we both lose in that scenario.”

“You’re right,” you sighed dramatically, sitting yourself down on a seat beside his bed, “Well, I will think of something. But in the meantime, the only request I make is that you let me stay by your side, at least until you are back to full health. I’ve had more than my share of anxiety attacks today alone, so I would feel much better if you let me oversee your healing.”

He shot you a suggestive look, a smirk ghosting his lips. “What a coincidence, I was hoping for a hot stay at home nurse to be on standby should I need any assistance.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” you held back a laugh, but couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your face, “I will let your suggestive comment slide this time because I am feeling benevolent, but if you don’t take your healing seriously you are going to be in a world of trouble, understood?”

He leaned back in the bed, a thoughtful expression engulfing his face as he closed his eyes, “I hear you loud and clear and leave myself in your capable hands.”

You stood up, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his lips, one that he reciprocated with a pleased hum. “I love you, Katsumi.”

“Love you too,” he kissed you again, smiling against your lips as he tugged you closer, “And I’ll make sure you never doubt that for the rest of our lives.”

[danielfuckingricciardo]

r/relationship_advice - Charles Leclerc x Reader

A collection of Reddit posts, comments, tweets, and fic

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis - The reader is in a difficult situation, and decides to make a post on Reddit to get help with her predicament. What she doesn’t expect is for people to realise who she is.

Content Warnings - swearing, sexual references

Author’s Note - this is not just a standard fic! This is a collection of Reddit posts, comments, tweets, and fic. Sort of like a collage of different shit all telling one story! Because of this the perspective is different in each part, like the Reddit posts are in first person, and the fic is in second person as usual!

I wanted to experiment with something different structure wise, you know me, I like to fuck with stuff and do weird shit. If high school musical taught me anything, it’s that we shouldn’t stick to the status quo.

Please do tell me if you like the structure, if you don’t, if there’s anything you don’t think works etc! I’d love to do more shit like this so if you have any ideas of what else I could include in one of these (like text messages, DMs, Snapchat, insta stories, whatever) do let me know!

r/relationship_advice • 5d ago

Posted by throwaway27936

My (25F) boyfriend (27M) thinks I have a thing for one of my coworkers (25M). The worst thing about it is… I do.

I wanna preface this by saying that I’ve been with my boyfriend since I was 18. And I do love him. But last year I managed to bag my dream job and it meant us going long distance.

I wasn’t worried about the whole thing, after all, we’d been together for six years already and lived together for three of them. We had two cats together, and the word on the street was he was thinking of buying a ring to pop the question before I got my job offer.

The job is my dream job, and it’s actually what we had initially bonded over when we were at college together. When I got that email saying the job was mine he was so excited for me, and I was thrilled. It’s what I’d been working towards for so long!

But as things set in for him, and he realised I would be away for weeks and weeks, I could tell something changed. It was like he was faking being happy for me. The proposal never came, I suppose maybe because I was going to be away for days like valentines and both our birthdays, maybe he just couldn’t find the right time? Either that or he didn’t want to be engaged to someone who was hardly around?

He drove me to the airport, and no matter how sad I could see he was feeling, I couldn’t stop my excitement as I jetted off to another country to begin my work! I suppose that didn’t help either, him seeing how pumped I was and not being all tearful and sad to be leaving him. But I couldn’t help it, and I was sad, I just didn’t want to make our parting more upsetting for myself or for him.

The job kept me busy. Like super busy. But I did manage to come home every now and then, to tell him about all the amazing things I’d seen and done, do date nights snuggled up on the couch with our kitties Nemo (4M) and Milo (4M) but something was just… off??

And him being off, not being as affectionate and loving as he used to be, is what drew me to my coworker.

The final nail in the coffin was my trip home during summer last year. My bf and I pretty much argued the entire time, just over little tiny things, until suddenly, he just exploded. He berated me over the fact that I was never home. That he was the one stuck there looking after the cats, living a normal life while I was living my dream and flying around the world with my team.

It hurt, and I’m gonna be honest with you, I said some things I wish I could take back. Mainly along the lines of ‘it’s not my fault you weren’t able to make something of your life like I was.’

I regret saying that. I know that he struggled after college. It was a low blow. But I was angry, because I was living my dream, the dream we had bonded over that night in the sports bar just off campus when we met. He should be happy for me, right?

Well, after I left at the end of summer on a particularly sour note, I was ready to be done with him. I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and hope he’d gotten it all out of his system and that when I returned during a two week break in October, things would be better.

We hardly talked. September meant no FaceTimes, hardly any texts, no likes on my Instagram posts, nothing. Zilch. Nada. I tried, god knows I did. Scrolling through our WhatsApp chat makes me look so fucking desperate but I wasn’t ready to give up.

One day, after another period of being totally ignored, my coworker, who I shall call C, noticed I was upset. Before now I hadn’t spent much time with C as he was far more high profile than me. I worked in the wings but he was the star of the show.

I didn’t mean to trauma dump on him, but all these feelings just kinda came spilling out. I ended up crying on him and getting his shirt all covered in snot. It was gross, I apologised, he said not to worry about it.

The thing about C is, is that he’s beautiful. I know you don’t often see the word beautiful being used to describe a man, but he is. He’s gorgeous. Like don’t get me wrong, my bf is hot too, but C? Damn.

He was so kind to me, he listened, he wiped away my tears, cheered me up, and made me feel better again.

Don’t get me wrong, I would never cheat. I couldn’t. One of my best friends from college had her boyfriend of five years cheat on her and she was heartbroken. I still loved my boyfriend, I couldn’t do that to him. Besides, C himself already had a girlfriend. So anything between me and him was completely off the table.

But that didn’t stop me from catching feelings for C. There’s nothing cheaty about catching feelings, right? Especially when your bf is ghosting you the way mine was.

But C and I became good friends over the time we spent together throughout September after the whole snotty crying situation. He was a good friend, and it was nice to have someone in your corner when all of your normal best friends are halfway across the world.

When I went home in October, I arrived at my bf and I’s flat to find him sat in the lounge, surrounded by packed boxes and suitcases. He told me it was over.

Naturally I cried, I was hoping we’d have a chance to smooth things out, especially over Christmas when I’d have a whole two months to spend at home before I had to be back at work.

My bf showed me a picture on his phone, it must have been from some night out I can hardly remember after a good weekend’s work. And there I was with C. We were just dancing, but his hand was on my waist. Man we must have been so hammered.

My bf assumed I had a thing for him, which I did, but I would never have acted on. But I told him I didn’t, that we were just good friends, which wasn’t a lie. We were good friends, I just happened to fancy the pants off C but only in secret.

He wouldn’t listen to me, told me the whole long distance thing wasn’t working and that I either had to quit my job, or we would have to break up.

I couldn’t quit. I loved my job too much. It was exactly what I had dreamed of since I was a child. I told him that, and he said it was over.

He said he’d look after the cats until I found a new stable home someplace, and that he’d let me store my things in the spare room, but I didn’t live here anymore.

I left for my parents that night, in tears, and texted C. I told him what had happened, and he said I should get out, go visit him at home and keep my mind off of things before we had to travel again.

I knew I shouldn’t have. That it just made C and I’s relationship look even more suspicious. But I was upset, and angry. Besides, I wasn’t the only one at fault. If my bf had just replied to my texts more, and been willing to work harder on the long distance thing, I think we’d still be together now.

But I went to see C. And we had a great week. We hung out, played video games, got drunk, it was great. Of course his girlfriend stopped by every day for a few hours at least, and sometimes I’d be left alone in his apartment while they went for dinner and stuff. And that was when I cried.

I felt guilty for something that was beyond my control. I felt angry because, if my boyfriend had just been more willing to make it work, I wouldn’t have gone crying to C and I wouldn’t have ended up with this big fat crush on him.

By the time it was time to return home, I went and moved all my stuff out of my now ex-bf’s apartment and took the cats to my parents. I spent Christmas with them, and despite how much it hurt being alone surrounded by my family who were all coupled up, I had my work in 2023 to get me through.

But I also had C. We texted, a lot, after the breakup. I think he wanted to make sure I was okay? That I wasn’t feeling down.

But eventually it was my turn to check in on him, as C and his gf broke up. We spent a lot of time on FaceTime that week, being a pair of sad single losers drinking red wine and talking shit. He was my friend, and I cared about him a lot.

Come New Year’s Eve, I was invited to see in 2023 with my closest friends at a party one of them was hosting. And it was there I saw my ex-bf for the first time since I moved out.

I expected he would be there, after all, we had a lot of the same friends. But I was prepared for it. I’d cried my tears out, I’d gotten out all of my frustrations, and so when he asked me out on the balcony for a chat, I said ‘sure, why not?’

Call it a bad idea, call me foolish, but we ended up making out up there. We kissed at midnight that night, and promised to give it all another go. He said he wouldn’t get jealous of me and my job, and I said I’d try to come home more and spend more time with him.

The first week of January, I moved my stuff back into our apartment, brought the cats back from my parents, and we rekindled our relationship. Despite all the pain I went through, I still loved him. And he still loved me.

But then C texted, asked if I wanted to fly over and hang out for a weekend. My bf wasn’t too happy with the idea. He was still convinced I had a thing for C, despite me telling him most certainly that I didn’t. But I did still have a thing for C.

Thing were frosty between me and my bf for a few days, and as I prepared to return to work, he got increasingly more agitated. But eventually, when it came time for me to leave, he cried. I cried and hugged him as we parted at the airport. I promised I would call and text every day, and that I wouldn’t ignore him in favour of work.

I loved my boyfriend, I really did. But then I saw C again. And now I don’t know what to do.

I love both of them, so much, and I don’t know what I want anymore. Is it selfish of me to stay with my bf? Would it be stupid for me to call it quits with him and risk things with C even if he doesn’t feel the same? I’m just stuck in a rut and my emotions are going crazy. Help!

TLDR: my boyfriend thinks I’m in love with my coworker, I say I’m not, but after a shaky period with my bf, I fell for my coworker. Now I don’t know what to do! Help?

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AutoModerator • 2d ago

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Reindeerbuddy27 • 4d ago

I think your boyfriend sounds like a dick. It was his fault for ghosting you! If he hadn’t have reacted the way he did over summer you would have never bonded with your coworker and caught feelings. IMO you’d be better off breaking up with him and either being single or getting with C, though I’d give him some time to get over his own ex-gf before you try anything!

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Throwaway27936 • 4d ago

Yeah, it kinda was his fault I caught feelings in the first place, you’re right. I wouldn’t say he was a dick, he just missed me I guess and his sadness turned into anger the longer I was away and it just all exploded. Even so, we’re back together and on good terms, and I still love him. I don’t think I could break up with him without a valid reason to do so?

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ReindeerBuddy27 • 3d ago

I get that you don’t want to lose him, but if you’re not fully invested in the relationship with him and want to explore the possibility of having something with C, I think breaking up with your bf would be the fairest thing to do.

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Throwaway27936 • 3d ago

Hmm… maybe you’re right. I need some time to think about it. Thanks for the advice! I really appreciate it! ♥︎

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Pedr0Pascal14 • 4d ago

Would you maybe be able to ask your bf about opening your relationship? Allowing you to pursue things with C to see where they lead while also keeping your bf?

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Throwaway27936 • 4d ago

Definitely not. He’s all about monogamy, and I am too. If I suddenly asked about opening the relationship he’d be even more suspicious of me and my reasons for asking.

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Demeter779 • 3d ago

Could you reduce the amount of time spent at work maybe? Like going part time so you’re only away for six months out of the year?

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Throwaway27936 • 3d ago

Sadly it’s not possible. My job is kinda all or nothing. If I asked about reducing my hours they’d laugh in my face and fire me. There’s plenty of people who would die for a chance to fill my role so I wouldn’t be missed.

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Demeter779 • 3d ago

That sucks. I would say tho, without being mean, it seems like your job is your number one priority and not your bf. While there’s nothing wrong with that, I think that’s where the problem lies. Especially if before you took the job he was always your number one! It’s probably been hard for him to adjust! I hate to say it, but I don’t think you two are meant to be and these problems are only gonna get worse this year with you being away. This situation really sucks for you OP, I’m sorry.

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LionVerstappen33 • 2d ago

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Hon3ybadg3r • 2d ago

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MonacoBaby • 2d ago

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r/relationship_advice • 6hr ago

posted by Throwaway27936

UPDATE: My (25F) boyfriend (27M) thinks I have a thing for one of my coworkers (25M). The worst thing about it is… I do.

Okay, ya got me.

Considering my life has already been put under extreme scrutiny from random strangers on the internet to literal news publications, I figured it couldn’t get any worse than it already has and so I’d post an update here.

I wanna start out by saying I am stupid. I made my post thinking I was fully anonymous, the account was a throwaway with no real ties to my irl identity and I tried as hard as I could to conceal the true nature of my work, but you F1 girlies are far too intelligent and I realise that now.

In hindsight I shouldn’t have deleted those comments, because it did just make me look more suspicious. If I’d have left them, maybe even replied to them and said ‘yes I work in F1 but can we please keep it on the dl as I don’t want anyone finding out who I am’ then right now I wouldn’t be sat in my childhood bedroom crying with a cat on my knee typing out this post.

I also wanna say that I hold no grudges with Twitter user LionVerstappen_ I mean, they’re far too clever for their own good, and they terrify me, but I don’t hate them, and all the hate that they’re getting is unjustified and wrong. It was my fault for posting on the internet thinking I’d be safe. That’s on me, not them, so please do leave them alone.

Since that post was made, a lot has changed. Obviously I had already returned to work, I was in the factory at Maranello working on some technical shit I won’t bore you with and getting ready for the livery reveal on the 14th and fine tuning for next season.

I had seen LionVerstappen_ and Hon3ybadg3r’s comments and deleted them as soon as I did. I didn’t fancy answering them, and thought ‘shit, this is getting a little dicey’ and disabled commenting on my post. I thought that would be the end of that, I had some good advice given before that, and I would mull it over before I next saw my boyfriend.

Suddenly, my phone just started fucking blowing up. I had a bunch of random people request to follow me on Instagram, and when I say a bunch, I mean a fuck load. Like 20k follow requests in the space of a few hours. Immediately I was like ‘what the fuck?’ Assuming I’d been hacked or something. I had like 200 followers before that, and I knew all of them in some capacity, and I hadn’t just become some internet celebrity (not on purpose at least) so what was going on?

That’s when I got a message from my friend back home. She’s an F1 fan and is pretty active on F1twt which is how she saw the posts. She sent me a link to the original tweet from LionVerstappen_ as well as to DeuxMoi’s Instagram stories. I was shocked, I really didn’t know how to react.

I couldn’t believe that my silly little Reddit post had actually been figured out, especially after I’d deleted those comments, I thought it was the end. I debated taking down the Reddit post, but really, what was that gonna do? There were already screenshots all over Twitter so it wouldn’t make a difference.

This all happened during my lunch break, and after lunch, I was called into my boss’ office. It seems the Ferrari PR department had also seen the tweets and the speculation, and they wanted to talk to me about it.

I burst into tears. My personal life was all over the internet, my boyfriend had probably seen it all and knew how I felt and that I’d been lying to him about my feelings. I knew it was only a matter of time before he called me and ended things with me again.

Thankfully, the PR team were nice to me. They said they’d handle it, and most importantly, that my job was safe. It was nothing to do with my capabilities as an engineer, after all, so I suppose it made sense. What they did do, however, is give me the week off to sort my life out.

I left the factory sniffling like a baby, packed my shit and got on a plane home. I called my parents to pick me up from the airport, and asked them to take my stuff back to their place but to drop me at the apartment my bf and I shared.

When I entered the flat I had to brace myself. I knew it wasn’t gonna be pretty. My bf was sat on the sofa, surrounded by packed bags and boxes again. Deja vu anyone?

He didn’t yell, or threaten me, or call me names like I thought he would. No, he stood up, and hugged me. And I started crying like a baby. Full on body shaking sobs.

I told him I was sorry, that I loved him, but I understood. He said it was okay.

We sat down together surrounded by the boxes of my things, he made me a coffee, and we talked. It was refreshing to talk to him considering last time he forced me out of the house without a word.

I told him everything, from start to finish. About how neglected and sad I felt after the summer break, how his ghosting was what led me to Charles, how I still really loved him but just didn’t know what I wanted, and how scary it was to have my private life all over the internet like that.

He was sympathetic, but ultimately he said that we just didn’t work together. He wished me luck, I took the cats, got in a taxi, and went home.

Funnily enough, I wasn’t really upset about the whole relationship ending. Mainly because I was just so relieved my ex was handling the whole situation so well. I’ll miss him terribly, he was more than just my boyfriend but he was my best friend too (I am aware of how cliche that sounds).

We had bonded over F1 all those years ago. I was cheering for Sebastian Vettel and he was cheering for Lewis Hamilton while watching a race in a sports bar. We ended up having an argument over who’s driver was better which after a few drinks evolved into us making out in the smoking area. That night I’d told him my dream, to be an engineer, to work for Ferrari. He believed in me, and it’s due to his belief that I managed to get my job. It’s a shame that achieving my dream was the thing that eventually tore us apart.

But anyway, now I’m at home. My parents are out collecting all my things from my ex’s flat right now, and I’ve finally calmed down enough to start typing this out. Mainly because Nemo has decided to curl up in my lap and have a big nap.

Consider my overdue cat tax paid:

When I settled in my room, Charles called me. I nearly didn’t answer it, but I did.

For the sake of his privacy, I’m not going to tell you all of what was said. But I can say that he doesn’t hate me, and if anything, he feels so bad for the situation I ended up in.

I suppose he knows what it’s like to have all that speculation around your personal life 24/7 and can empathise more than most of the people in my life.

I will also say, that we are just friends! That’s all. This isn’t a hallmark movie. He hasn’t hopped on his private jet, flown all the way to my home in bumblefuck nowhere to declare his love for me, and we all live happily ever after.

Real life is a lot more complicated than that. And a lot shittier and a lot more depressing.

I’m going back to Maranello tomorrow morning. I know they gave me the week off, but I’m going to spend some time in the area, maybe even look at getting a proper rental and moving out there full time. I have nothing really to tie me to my home anymore, not really (and yes I will bring the cats with me and pay a cat sitter!)

So yeah, this is my update. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m fine now, I think! Moving onwards and upwards. One day this will be a funny story I’ll look back on. It isn’t funny now, but it will be.

I do ask, however, that everyone reading this post thinks before they post. I’m a real person, and thanks to all this drama my life is fucked up and I’m now Googling how to emigrate to Italy.

Before you press that button, just consider how it will affect that person, and if it’s really worth it. Sometimes it is, I’ll grant you. But we’re all real people. Those of us in the factories, the TPs, the drivers, everyone. And we have a right to respect and privacy just as any ordinary person does. Think before you post.

I’m signing off now. It’s been a wild ride. Comments will be off, no doubt you’ll be making comments and dissecting my every word on Twitter anyways but at least I don’t have to see em.

I likely won’t update this again.

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March 5th 2023

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite acclimate yourself to the dry heat of Bahrain. Your hair clung to your neck with sweat, and your team polo was already sodden and damp.

You weren’t quite sure if it was just the heat, or the nerves getting to you as the cars begun their formation lap. You fidgeted with the pen in your hand, your eyes firmly transfixed on the screen in front of you as you catch a glimpse of red zooming down the straight.

Lucky for you, things had died down. As the season began, people had the racing to focus on, and your silly little Reddit post had been almost forgotten. You were able to blend into the background, just as you had done that previous year. You were just another engineer hidden amongst a sea of red shirts, and it was nice.

You knew, however, that this peace would be short lived. It was only a matter of time before you were all over social media again, not as the mystery Reddit user anymore, but as Charles Leclerc’s new girlfriend.

You didn’t lie in your post, the two of you hadn’t gotten together on that fateful day. You were just friends. That was until February 14th.

The day of the car reveal, which also happened to coincide with Valentine’s Day. You didn’t mind, of course, after all, you had no plans. You were quite happy to have something else going on to distract you from your tragic love life.

Charles, however, had made plans. After the reveal you went back to his hotel room, where he had organised a fancy dinner with candles and roses. He asked you out then and there, away from the prying eyes of fans or paparazzi.

To you, it was the most romantic gesture anyone could ever make. It was clear he had thought of you, keeping the moment as private as possible to protect you.

He, of course, knew how you felt about him. He didn’t have to worry, he knew you’d say yes. And you did.

You spent the evening drinking wine, chatting, just as you had always done. But one thing was different - after dessert he kissed you.

The kiss was sweet, and it wasn’t just because of the tiramisu he had eaten.

He didn’t want to rush you, he knew that you were still healing from your trauma. But you weren’t so coy.

February 14th marked the first time you had kissed Charles Leclerc, but it also marked the first time the two of you made love.

Since that day, the two of you had kept your relationship a secret. You cooked for one another, or ordered takeout, watched movies, cuddled with the cats, and just enjoyed each other’s company.

It was exactly what you had wanted. A nice, private relationship with the man you had fallen so deeply in love with.

But there was a small niggling feeling in the back of your mind that it was all about to change. If he won this race, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. You wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to throw yourself into his arms, to kiss him all over, to tell him just how proud you are.

A race winner always deserves a kiss, right?

You chew on your nail as the final cars pull into position, ready for lights out.

Charles had taken pole position that previous day, but you had managed to save your celebrations for later, sneaking over to his hotel room when no one was around and promptly sneaking out early this morning to avoid suspicion.

Lights out - Charles’ reactions are lightning. He manages to keep away from the rest of the grid, allowing the cars behind him to battle for P2.

The Ferrari garage is hopeful, but they know better than to cheer before the race is won. Too many bittersweet moments from the previous season haunted each and every one of them.

All was well, Charles was set for the first win of the season, until a collision at the back of the pack meant that the safety car reared its ugly head.

Max was getting closer and closer to the back of Charles’ car. They weaved behind the safety car, getting ready, preparing for the moment that it would leave the track.

As the car enters the pit lane, the power was in Charles’ hands. He needed to make a good move, surprise Max, get him on the back foot and out of sight.

There were only two laps left. Two laps to victory. Max just had to stay back, and Charles had to race like he’d never raced before.

You chew on your nails anxiously as Charles takes each and every corner, hitting the apex with precision. All that time in the simulator was definitely paying off.

They cross the line for the final lap, Charles was a car’s length ahead, but Max too was pushing hard. He wanted that first win just as much as Charles did. But you told yourself mentally that he wasn’t going to get it. This was Charles’ race, and he was going to stand on that top step of the podium.

The seconds felt like hours. You make eye contact with Vasseur across the garage and he gives you a small smile. A reassuring one, and you smile back. It probably looked more like a grimace but it was the best you could muster.

The final corner passes with ease, and it looks like Charles has hung onto his win. Max is practically driving alongside him as they cross the finish line. No one cheers.

It’s a waiting game, waiting for the photo to see who had crossed the line first.

You bury your head in your hands, unable to think, talk, move or see until the entire garage erupts into cheers.

He had done it! Charles had won the race!

Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you finally look up. You were sobbing, you couldn’t help it. He’d won.

You give every mechanic you see a pat on the back as you walk over to Vasseur. He was smiling brightly at you. He had so much faith in Charles, he loved him like a son.

He embraces you tightly as you cry onto his shoulder, and he whispers ever so quietly ��go see him. See your love.”

You didn’t even care to ask how he was able to see right through the two of you. You just pulled away and nodded as you run out of the garage towards parc ferme alongside a sea of red suits and shirts.

You push your way to the front, definitely sure that your tear stained face would be onscreen for the world to see, but you didn’t care. The world had seen worse of you, after all.

When Charles takes off his helmet, your heart skips a beat. He was beautiful, every day he was beautiful. Even when he was still sweaty and breathing heavy from the adrenaline of the race, his face marked with balaclava lines.

He makes a beeline for you, pulling you in for a hug the way friends would hug one another.

“Kiss me.” You say.

“Are you sure, mon amour?” He whispers, and you nod.

Charles captures your lips in a kiss reminiscent of your very first just a few days ago. The cameras were definitely on you, but you didn’t care.

No doubt social media would be going crazy over the whole thing, but it was nothing new to you. At least this time you weren’t just in love with your coworker, but he was in love with you too.

Whatever the internet may have to throw at you, this time, you didn’t have to handle it alone.

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~ THE END ~

[agaypanic]

can you do a reese request where your his best friend but you like him and you didn't get a chance to tell him before he left the army and you're mad at him for leaving and scaring you and you confess . fluffy and kinda smutty .

Come Back, Be Here (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Fate seemed so cruel to convince Reese to leave and risk his life because of a broken heart the same night you wanted to go to him with a heart full of love. But a few weeks later, fate seemed to be kinder. Because now he’s popped up on your doorstep, heart ready to be mended.

A/N: couldn’t think of a title bc i’ve already written something with kind of the same plot so i used a TS song lol

***

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You asked Malcolm on the phone. This had to have been some sick prank. “Malcolm, this isn’t funny.”

“Y/n, I’m not lying. He ran away and joined the army.”

“Why would he do that? Reese hates the government and anything that has authority over him.” The line was quiet, but you knew he was still on the phone with you. “Malcolm, did you do something?”

“Maybe.”

“What did you do?” Quiet again. “Malcolm?” He sighed, ashamed of what he was about to say.

“He caught me with his girlfriend when he went to tell her he loved her, and she broke up with him. He told me to take care of her, and we haven’t seen him since.”

“I bet you’re not even with her anymore.” You sneered into the phone. His silence confirmed it. “Oh my God, Malcolm, I think you might be the worst brother in the history of siblings!” 

“How do you think I feel, Y/n?! You think I’m happy about this?!” He exploded over the phone, his outburst shutting the both of you up.

“Have you heard from him at all?” You asked, voice breaking. You refused to believe that Reese wouldn’t contact his family at all. 

“He sent a letter; that’s how we found out where he went.”

“What did he say?” You asked immediately.

“He said he’s okay and that he wanted to wait until he was a success to write to us. He graduated first in his training post and got some kind of reward.” Your breathing quickened. Suddenly everything felt too real for you to handle. You told Malcolm you had to go before hanging up, a sob breaking through. You slid down against the wall, crying your eyes out.

You were absolutely devastated. Your best friend ran off to one of the worst places to run to, and you had no way to contact him or, at the very least, ensure he was okay. You felt guilty. So, so guilty.

You knew, realistically, none of this was your fault. The situation had nothing to do with you. But you felt like you could have prevented it if you were quicker.

You had no idea if it was the same night. But a few weeks ago, you had taken enough of pretending to be content with friendship. As cliche as it was, you had been silently in love with your best friend for a few years. One night, you had snuck over to his house, finally building up all the courage in the world to tell him. But he wasn’t home.

Now you know why.

You started sobbing harder. You hated this feeling. The feeling of missing Reese, who was somewhere in the world, instead of down the road where he belonged. Loving a man who couldn’t be confirmed to be alive and mourning him even though he wasn’t confirmed to be dead.

***

For the next two weeks, you were a mess. Your mom had to excuse your absences and later called you out until further notice. Extenuating circumstances, she said. It was sort of funny, in a cruel way. Extenuating circumstances meant a situation that provided an excuse for an action, but you didn’t even fully understand the situation yourself. All you knew was that Reese was gone, and Lois was determined to find him.

Some days you couldn’t even get out of bed. You would stay under the covers that protected you from the hurt and the worry and the fear. All you did was overthink, wondering where Reese was or if he’d ever be found.

Today was a better day. You took a shower and ate some food, eating in your backyard to get some of the sunlight you had been avoiding like the plague. 

Because you were outside, you didn’t hear the phone ringing in the house. And because you didn’t hear it ring, you didn’t think to check the machine when you came back inside. You went back to your room, cleaning it up a bit. But that soon felt like a mistake when you picked up photos of you and Reese that you’d been looking at. You reminisced all of the memories you shared with Reese over the years.

Share. You meant ‘share,’ not ‘shared.’ Because talking about him in the past tense like that alluded to the idea that he wasn’t around to share memories with you anymore.

Setting the photos down gently on your desk, you laid back down. As you drifted off into sleep, you failed to hear the phone ringing again.

***

Hours later, you woke up to banging on the front door. You were surprised your parents weren’t answering the door, but maybe they were working late.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Jesus.” You rolled out of bed, exhausted despite all the resting you had done. You navigated through the house to the front door, where whoever was on the other side kept knocking. “What the fuck do you want?!” You shouted, losing the very little patience you had. You yanked the door open and were about to curse out whoever was on your front step, but the words you were planning to scream got lost in your throat.

“Hey.” There he was, in the flesh. Reese stood in front of you, acting shy. You felt so overwhelmed all of a sudden.

“Hey?” You were both taken aback by the anger in your voice. But you couldn’t stop yourself. “That’s all you have to say? Hey? Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you are, Reese?! Running away and joining the army, leaving me here to worry about you and wonder if you were still even alive! I can’t believe you, Reese!” The words soon became mixed with tearful stutters. Unable to take the distance any longer, you threw yourself on him. “I can’t believe you would do such a thing.” You were much quieter than before, face smothered in Reese’s shoulder while you sobbed into him.

“I know.” His embrace on you was tight, refusing to let you go. “I know. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“You scared me so much. I thought you weren’t gonna come back.” You almost started crying harder at the thought, even though he was alive and well.

“Of course, I came back.” Reese cupped the back of your head. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“But you did.” It was just a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

“I know. But I didn’t know what to do, Beth broke my heart, and I couldn’t go home to face Malcolm again.” You lifted your head from Reese’s shoulder and immediately, his hand moved to wipe the tears from your face.

“Sure, she broke your heart. But I could’ve fixed it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Although it pained you, you stepped away, slipping from Reese’s hold. It seemed to have hurt him as well, based on his expression. “I was gonna see you that night. I wanted to tell you I love you, that I have for years. But you weren’t there.”

He just stared at you. You would’ve panicked, automatically assuming that you had said the wrong thing and that you had just damaged your relationship with Reese beyond repair. He wasn’t saying anything, but then again, he didn’t leave either.

That had to be a good sign, right?

“Reese-”

“Say it again.” There was a sense of urgency and dominance in his tone as he stared you down.

“What?”

“Say it again. Please.” He took a step closer. As if you could read his mind, you knew what he was talking about.

“I love you, Reese.” He pounced on you, taking your face in his hands as he pressed his lips to yours and pushed you against the wall. He kicked the door shut behind him, keeping you pinned. You came over your state of shock quickly, hands clawing at his hair and shirt. You don’t know how long you two went at it, but when you pulled apart, you were trying to catch your breath with swollen lips.

“I love you, Y/n.” You could help the grin that overcame you. Words you waited years to hear from him were finally being spoken.

“Stay.” You kissed him. “Stay, please.” You fell into a cycle of pleading and kissing him.

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay.” He silenced you with his own pattern of a promise followed by a kiss. The promise followed you two as you dragged him to your room. And the promise was kept when you woke up the next morning, covered in sheets and sweat and him, just to see that he was still there with you. And the promise was kept every day after.

[sophietv]

What are your thoughts on 1975 fans trying to attribute a lot of Easter eggs to Matty in the new video? :( Someone on Twitter put a visual together of all the highlights and it’s so annoying because when it’s laid out like that I see it and I hate that I see it. Just like lighting visuals being very similar, and particular dates being significant to the 1975 and/or Taylor. For example, the July 9th 1:38 people are saying is for Taylor and Matty’s birthdays (the 13th and the 8th). I guess the timeline makes sense because early April when she filmed this video would have been around the time when she was hanging out with him and doing whatever pr nightmare that was…talk me off the ledge pls! Lol.

Hi!

Don't worry, I went and check the threads you were talking about and I'm confident that it's not related or at least not as they think.

The lighting in I Can See You Lyrics Video is the bisexual lighting and fits really well with the theme of the song.

Her comparing being in love with another woman to being a spy and having to navigate cautiously to not be seen.

The spy scene is remisnescent of a commercial she did:

(X)

And what she was trying to protect back then in the briefcase was a microphone you know to "Speak Now" maybe...

The videoclip has a lot of references to Look What You Made Me Do both MV and Eras Tour number, and I think it's very important and meant to point at Karma.

A girl, that is remisnecent of Lizz comes and save her with her beard at the time that shielded her.

All her outfit of her public appearance (X) emprisonned behing glass.

Side note on all of this is reminescent of the Tom Ford commercial Karlie did not long ago

With the lyrics video too:

Her being locked up in a Vault. With an orange door.

And the Eclipsed Sun imagery (do with that that you will ;-) )

Also some Karlie's parallel:

With Long Live lyrics on her arm.

"I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you"

Long Live was written a month after Chely Wright came out. And if you take the time to really look at the lyrics, you see how well this all fits together.

Someone counted all the marks on the wall, and there's 1468 lines/days.

The exact number of days between when her masters got stolen and her releasing Speak Now Taylor's Version (X)

When she's finally free. All the glass closet shatter.

And even more. The building holding her captive explodes once and for all.

The person who help her escape has stars on her right side (Eye theory I'm looking at you)

Stars on the face are there always to depict Taylor Swift TM public personna.

And she's the only one that can actually see Taylor and help her out.

Some say it might be gaylors, who can actually see the real Taylor.

But whoever this person is meant to represent.

She codes...

And has a ring on her right ring finger....

Now the dates:

It's tonight.

Remembre how Taylor said that Speak Now her version would be out on July 7th just in time for July 9th where we would be able to celebrate?

Now the time 1:38. The mission starts at that time. But how much time would it take to get her out? 20 minutes maybe?

Wich leads to: "Lit through the darkness at 1:58" and "That July ninth, the beat of your heart"

Both lyrics from last kiss.

To me it does sound like a rendez-vous. Now the only thing to determine is: is it 1:38 ET or 1:38 Liverpool time wich would be 8:38 ET (just before Taylor goes on stage for the show tonight).

And notice that in the countdown yesterday. Beside the clock in the front, every other clocks pointed to 1:58

And the other date is where it gets really interesting...

I found this last night.

May 22 2020

Here's what happened for Taylor on that date:

And when you type the adress, you are still led to her website with this ULR message:

"they wouldn't me do it Karma" (X)

And yes, I think it is exactly what you think it is...

Remembre how last week right before Karlie posted 6 palm trees (Karma was supposed to be TS 6th album)

The URL on karmaonthewall.com changed for "after Midnights it starts" to "Ready For It"

Suki, Austin and Kristine Karlie's sister also posted palm trees last week....

Here's a post I did about how Ready For It is relevent for all of this (X)

So yeah... everything in that MV is sooo important.

Nothing is related to Matty.

Now we just have to wait and see. And show a lot of support and love for that amazing woman who's been throught so much and deserves the world.

And after this URL change of last night... I think we can safely agree that karmaonthewall.com is really related to Taylor too...

[fatfables]

Farmhouse Five, or The Gainer Crusade: Vore Wars 9

A science fiction force feeding and vore-infused anti-gaining gaining story heavily inspired by Kurt VonneGUT's classic post-modern novel. (Why? Because it's the internet).

A sixth generation Swedish-American now living in easy circumstances in Minnesota [and still eating too much] who as a fat man's son, as a prisoner of the farmer, witnessed the fire-bombing of his own physique, a long time ago, and survived to grow and tell the tale.  This is a story somewhat in the obesogenic manner of the tales of the moon of the Surplus, where the galaxy’s biggest bellies come from. Eat.

All this happened, more or less. But mostly more. The gaining parts, anyway, are true. One guy I knew really was tube fed to death for refusing to breed with the Lord of the Pigs. So it grows. I returned to the farmhouse with an old gainer buddy of mine, to where we were kept for weeks. There we met a farm boy who was grown fat by the Surplus. We asked him how it was to live under Gainerism. He said that at first it was hard as it took time to get used to the strain of constant weight gain but now that he was used to it it wasn’t so bad. He was impressed with his belly and the way that it bounced over his belt when he walked. He liked how round it looked and how soft it felt. He was looking forward to seeing it be further accentuated by his dungarees. His brother was fattened till his heart exploded. So it grows.

I look neither forwards nor backwards, only waistwords. My Name is Billy Bondgaard. I’m writing this from my home in Minnesota, in this year. For thirty years I have worked, non-consecutively, as a gastric bypass salesman despite my own size. This has provided for me well and I have continued to gain all my life. I am now comfortable, fat and old, but I will not remain so. I have two chunky sons who follow in my footsteps. Soon they will be unborn again. My husband is dead from a car crash. So it grows. I look waistwords to seeing him again.

I am in the farmhouse with Jerry. My nerves are shot to hell. We are hog tied by our britches waiting for him to return. I am only 246 lbs. Jerry is hungry and delirious for action. He salivates whenever he hears footsteps. He appears to take joy from his captivity. He yearns to increase his capacity. My boxers are tight and stained, unsuitable for the task. I know that I will soon be forced to feed again and I am ill-prepared. I know that I will rely on Jerry to bear some of my burden and that he will resent me for it. He will get cross with me and will blame me for his situation. I will do my best but it won’t be good enough. I am out of my depth and I know it.

He enters, the farmer. He is six foot six and broad in the shoulders. Kind of Dutch looking. His wet black hair sticks to his head from the pouring rain outside. He speaks gruffly, “Hello, Piggies.” Jerry says hello. I remain silent, in trepidation. He weighs us. As is normal. Jerry weighs 387 lbs, he has the right mindset. I was never meant to be a pig, yet at the same time I always was. He starts with soup and bread, a gentleman farmer. Eighty fluid ounces of potato soup and half a loaf of farmhouse white. Jerry embraces the challenge but my stomach already aches and I begin to lack strength and struggle only half way through. “What the hell is wrong with you, Billy?” He shouts at me, “I hope you don’t expect me to pick up the slack again?” “No,” I say, one hundred percent aware that he will.

Roast beef and gravy follows. The gentleman farmer is treating his pigs well. This will not always be the case, there is plenty of swill to come.

My stomach bag is pounding harder and faster than my heart. I count the rhythmic convulsions that play a solid beat while I am forced to eat. Jerry has already finished his main course but I am no where near finished. A slab of half chewed beef falls from my mouth. “What a bad piggy!” The farmer states; “You know the rules, everything has to be eaten!” He picks it up from the ground and places it in between Jerry’s lips. Jerry looks like he wants to kill me, because he does. He swallows the beef and the rest of my main, and my dessert, along with his own. His belly is so swollen that it looks like it might burst open. It’s super distended and hanging low like the globular ball of fat that it is. I look down at my own overweight gut, it’s round and bloated and howling in pain. I really don’t know how Jerry does it? He is the one with the constitution for this. We will both grow fatter at the Farmers bequest but I will never be a real pig like him.

The farmer calmly states that it is time for my punishment. Jerry once more looks at me with daggers. I know that he wants to be punished but my pathetic performance never allows for it. The farmer approaches me from behind. I brace. And I am gone.

My sons, Edgar and Albert are returning from camp today. It has been their first summer away and my husband is excitedly cleaning the kitchen in anticipation of their return. He has prepared five large cakes for them. They will be very pleased but will fight over the odd number. They will feel bad about it when he is dead. My sons don’t believe me about the farmhouse. They think it is just a myth. That I am insane. They don’t believe that the Surplus would ever do that. They are true believers. I know better. I know not only where they have been but where they are going. I have been there. So it grows. I try to stop Edgar from punching Albert over the final cake. I am back there.

The Surplus moon is a strange place. Bland and hectic at the same time. The beings here don’t experience weight yet they are obsessed by it. They are in love with it but don’t feel it. Nothing is linear here. Only expanding. They say that it is the beginning and the end of everything. Everything is circular and after a while I say that I agree. “I agree.” They say that the universe is theirs to consume and that nothing that any of us does matters. I fear they are correct. I am circular. I am a zoo exhibit. They look at me with wonder. I am prehistoric, an artifact. They have never seen one so small. The first seven years I fell into a depression. Then he appeared. Kyle California. The boy from my dreams. The boy from my computer screen youth. At first he wouldn’t look at me. Or them. He was petrified. Snatched from his last moment. Another car crash. Chased by a representation of his own ego. So it grows. He always returns. Returns to me. After the first six months he accepts me and the crowd roar in appreciation when we perform the beast with two fat backs.

In the farmhouse he is here. The one. Like an apparition. I have only met him once but so many times. I know he is real. As real as the minced cow that engorges me. I am fifteen again. I will soon be 600. He comments on how well my belly is pushing against the floor. I knew he was going to say that. I also know what he is going to do next. He always does that. And Danni laughs. Through the pain I see the other. At least I think I do. I always think I do. Half man, half lizard. The warrior. I like him. One day he will save me.

Edgar has knocked one of Albert’s teeth out. The fifth cake is in pieces on the floor. As is Albert. At least he can reach it from down there. “At least you can reach it from down there,” I hear myself say. Albert starts to eat the cake despite the blood in his mouth. He is a good boy. I look at Edgar. He is pretending to be pleased with his victory. He goads his brother. He is my son. I see in his eyes that he knows he really lost. He will never admit it. No matter how many times it happens. Always the same. Always the fattest son who gets the cake. 

They tell me how much they enjoyed the camp. How they are both over 200 up. I am so proud of them. They look magnificent. They will return next year. I ask Edgar if he saw where the farmhouse used to be. “Edgar, did you see where the farmhouse used to be?” He gets angry with me. He says there never was any damn farmhouse and that I should give it up. “There never was any damn farmhouse. Give it up.” I give it up. Though I know that he is wrong. Jerry died there. So it grows.

Kyle is about to have his last ever conversation with me before his date with an intersection on the outskirts of Monterey. He seems unaware. He is always unaware. Why do I remember? “Are you satisfied with our life here on the Surplus moon?” He asks me. Next he will ask me how I possibly can be when we are trapped like overfed lions in a cage. “How can you possibly be when we are trapped like overfed lions in a cage?” I tell him because I know that I won’t always be there. “Because I know that I won’t always be here.” He asks me if I love him. “Do you love me?” I tell him a hundred times over. “I love you a hundred times over.” He seems satisfied. Then he is gone. So it grows.

I am totally alone. The giant lizard man is back. I ask him why I remember. “Why do I remember?” He smiles at me as his giant jaw begins to dislocate. His belly swells. Everything goes black. Danni screams. I am unstuck.

The oversized coffin is pushed down the church aisle on a trolley. It’s far too heavy for anyone to carry. I am back at my husband's funeral. So it grows. I look waistwards to seeing him again.

www.fatfables.com

[rebellum]

Ive had a bad day today (due to period and I think overexertion) after 2 good days where I did a couple hours each day of work (hence thr overexertion)(also i totally forgot how to spell that autocorrect saved the day idk if you guys would have gotten "over ex her sion") and so I'm having one of those moments where I'm just Fed Up. It feels like when there's a big snow storm in late March. Like, hey, this isn't rally unexpected, but come ON we are SO CLOSE cant this just be over yet?

And i worry that I'm actually lying to ppl somehow bc I feel like my boyfriend doesn't understand how sick I still am, even tho he definitely knows (and is the one to have to tell me "hey, picking a video game based on which is less likely to cause mass real life death from demons is a mental illness thought, just so you know") and so he definitely knows so I dont know why I feel like I'm lying. Maybe cause my friends don't know the details? But I think they know i have more than just anxiety and depression and trauma. At the psychiatrist office the other day I said i didn't have ptsd and we had a weird miscommunication where he thought I meant I dont have trauma. When obviously I do very much. And he had to be like "someone who wasn't traumatized wouldn't be crying in my office right now" (he said that much kinder than how I'm typing it) and I was so confused and then explained that I don't have nightmares about the trauma and he was like "yeah but you don't need nightmares to have ptsd" but then he immediately moved on , which was weird, like ok are you thinking I could have ptsd and don't know it?? But I dont think i do, it doesn't ruin my life like others, tho I'll admit the people I'm close to who have it have cptsd which has slightly different symptoms, I can see my fingers typing from the mirror that's near my bed and it confused and almost startled me for a quick second lol. Earlier today I experienced some heart palpitations like I haven't for a while, so I guess I have to keep an eye on that, it was bizarre because I was fine and just sitting there and suddenly it felt like my heart was a horse with 11 legs, I would have said a lesser number that would have made slightly more sense (i mean, 11 is too much, it wuldnt be able to go anywhere) but those were potentially numbers that didn't have their place in this post right now (tho I like using them some times, I have nothing against you guys)(sorry @ readers) but I mean my heart was beating so fast and so erratically and it was ODD like uh. Hi. Haven't had you get this bad in a while. It's fine though I'm fine, I have a beh nine heart murmur and tach ee cardia (or is it palpitations? Or both?) But turns out while my heart acts weird its still fine, like when someone puts on tap handles the wrong way. Did you guys know that's a thing? I don't mean like the cold tap says hot, I mean like its supposed to be a tap water runs when you move the handle towards you, but if you mess up it makes it so that to turn the tap on you turn the handle away from you, which can work if there's space, but when my brothers sink randomly exploded a few weeks ago (and started sending up a whole guys-er) my bro and parents went to fix it and put the taps on the wrong way, and it was against a wall so they had to go back to step like 5 of putting a sink together and redo it.

[brain-baby]

Vent:::

Nobody knows about my life on here, which should be a good thing but if you are to follow along there is a lot of context to be had. Although this is meant to be a vent post - I'll try and be as clear as I can so you can follow along.

Every fibre of my brain wants to scream "Fuck People!", but the part of me that has gone through rigorous therapy says otherwise. The rational part of me knows I need to forgive and forget but how can I do that when people keep throwing fuel onto the fire. How can I cope with the level of trust-breaking experiences I have been through if I don't get proved wrong about anyone.

I have a dilemma. I lived with people for 3 years, becoming a part of the family and being romantically attached to one of them. Unfortunately because of my past, I wasn't showing them my true self - burying it down deep out of fear. Not because they gave me any reason to fear but because of my old home life. the home life I had for 18 years. I am so grateful for everything they did for me, but I resent the memories due to not liking who I was during them. I lied, I cheated, I stole...I was every bad coping mechanism I could have been at the time. And they still housed me and loved me...

I broke up with the man I was with - leaving me out of the family in an instant. I know they have a lot of thoughts about me, I don't know whether good or bad and that drives me insane. I guess what I'm trying to say is I feel as though I tore up something I could have salvaged. I blocked them all a couple of months afterwards by pressure of friends. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him or the time I spent with his family...

In the meantime I exploded, fucking anything that moved and was good looking. Having grown up being told I was unloveable and disgustingly hideous, I was suddenly found in a place where I was socially viewed as attractive and single. I didn't know how to deal with my feelings, and a couple weeks after I broke up with him my mother died.

I had a group of friends that I quickly formed at the time. Courtney, Blaire (aka Lily), Ayla, and Alli. They were my life-blood, my saving grace. At the time they helped me a lot and I was overly honest with them - telling them everything my heart screamed. I swore that this was the group that was going to stay together...that was until I started seeing someone named Shawn. Shawn was a guy who lived with his ex girlfriend (told me that a month in) and was overly possessive and giving. i told him constantly I thought it was kind of like taking advantage of him, and behind his back told my friend group I had a feeling he would be obsessive. I was correct.

Blaire was supposed to understand me, we have the same mental illnesses and we were supposed to have each others backs - that is until she started hanging out with Shawn behind my back telling him over exaggerations of what I had said. Basically shit talking me behind my back, with no regard for what i actually said.

After Shawn told me I was the worst person ever, I gave Blaire another chance with one contingency - I didn't want Shawn knowing anything about me (after we broke up he proved his obsessiveness with constant checking in with my friends on me and always showing up when I went to hangout with them), so she couldn't be friends with him if she wanted to be friends with me. She agreed, but lied of course. After I found out I dropped her like a sack of potatoes. I don't do liars and I don't have respect for people who get second chances and waste them.

Couple of weeks later I found out she started dating the brother of my ex. She is now in the exact spot I was in not only half a year ago. Apart of the household and family...the only thing is is that family is adamant about HATING LIARS. As someone who was in that household and told many lies to them - I know that they would be crushed to find out about any of them so I have to keep my distance. But a big part of me wants to warn the poor family, the same family I took advantage of, about this snake they have welcomed in with warm arms. They would never take anything I have to say, Im sure of it, but they deserve to know who they are making a bed with. She's the lead singer in their band, close with both brothers and Im sure their parents love her too.

That big part of me that wants to warn them, I know its built out of rage that someone I hate gets to be in the spot I was once in - the safety and love that come with it. She doesn't deserve it, she doesn't in my eyes. Blaire deserves to have her lies topple around her, because clearly she doesn't want to fix anything or help herself. I gave her opportunities even before Shawn and she didn't take them. She is a liar and a stone cold statue with not a single non-wicked thought. The amount of pain and hurt she caused to so many people around her - all for what?

Courtney followed after Blaire, Ayla having gone with Blaire in the beginning. Courtney was my roommate at them time and was my closest friend. What she did stung even more.

First it was a kitten. She brought him in to be friends with my cat. Things were going ok, although the kitten was far too young for how she was treating it. It got so bad I needed to text her that we needed to find a solution, and she took that and got rid of the kitten without so much as allowing me a goodbye.

Then she started staying at her boyfriends place, every night. That would be fine if she wouldn't have left me her chores to do, left me deal with the problems in the place, left me to take care of the home alone. All I wanted was some help and so I asked for some - she then moved out a day later and told me I was a burden when my mom died.

I can't tell where I went wrong. Should I have been more lenient on them? Given more chances? I know these aren't the whole situations and I doubt anyone will read this far, but if you did, do I blame myself? Do I move forward trying to be more patient and allowing? Or do I protect my heart the way I used to? Or do I allow myself to hold these boundaries?

Do I tell the family that they have a demon in their midst?

[none-ofthisnonsense]

On The Problems I Face With Ginger Tea: A Rant

I love tea. I drink it every time I can. And I was lucky enough to one day accidentally order lemon ginger tea and LOVE IT.

This started the saga recounted in this post.

I didn’t drink much tea before ordering this, but when it came and I remembered that I’d ordered this, I naturally started drinking it. Thus began my quest to find the perfect lemon ginger tea.

This tea was perfect. It smelled wonderful, it was great for when I was sick, and the taste! Oh, the taste! It felt like a million flavours exploded in my mouth and rearranged themselves to be beautiful and good as crystals. The aftertaste lingered on my tongue for minutes after I’d finished drinking the beverage, leaving me a sweet, oh-so-slowly fading memory of this perfect tea.

Unfortunately, this was a tea that came from an organic brand and it was delivered internationally (I was in Hong Kong at the time) which meant it was quite expensive to buy. To optimise the pleasure of drinking this tea and my money, I decided to ration the sachets: instead of drinking three or four per day, I only drank one or two a week, so as not to too quickly go through my sparse quantities of this delight.

Eventually, however, I had to move back to France, which devastated me: what guarantee did I have that this was available in Paris? How could I know whether my survival - reliant almost exclusively thanks to this wonder - was to be thwarted by a lack of appropriate tea?

I took note of the brand and the ingredients, and started searching for a lemon, ginger and manuka honey tea. My first attempts at finding it were unsuccessful: perhaps I did not go to the right places, or I did not know where to look. I could not, in any case, find the brand I was looking for, despite its being found online and available on French websites.

I had to live without this pinnacle of beauty, this necessary component of my life, for months while I lived in a temporary flat. Oh, the joy when I moved into the definitive flat, and found a shop which sold the tea on the same street!

I resolved to buy it immediately since I had been so long without this delight, and resumed drinking it as fervently as when I had first bought it. Alas, I had repeated my mistake: not knowing - due to months’ separation - anymore the taste of this marvel, I consumed it in large quantities, taking as much as five  sachets per day to soothe my seemingly insatiable thirst for this tea! But I was confronted with the same problem as before: the sachets were not endless, and neither was my money. I had to drink it sparsely again so as not to be completely destitute. But this time, I could endeavour to look for alternatives in a hope to reduce the terrible price at which this pleasure was procured to me.

Then, but a month ago, I went to my grandparents’ for the holidays, and lo and behold! In the tea and coffee aisle, I found a specimen that seemed to be of the same family, marked as lemon, ginger, and honey tea. Excited at the prospect of being reunited once again with my love, I bought it right away. What was not my despair, when, upon trying it out, I found that the taste, the strength of which being the point which most appealed to me, was reduced into nothing but a shadow of the original! Still, it was the closest I’d found to the expensive tea which had wholly taken over my heart. I could try to steep it more than I usually would to try to liberate a stronger taste which could perhaps try to contend with the original. And so I proceeded, fooling myself successfully every time into thinking that this was an adequate replacement.

But the day came when I had to leave my grandparents’, and this tea with them. My heart cried out on the day of separation, but I could not take this tea with me.

Back in Paris, I found what seemed like a perfect replacement. My heart was torn apart when I found out that this had the appearance of a lemon-ginger-honey tea but was instead only a glorified lemon tea with barely a hint of spice.

So ends this story: I am yet to find an adequate replacement to this delight that is lemon, ginger, and manuka honey tea, and my hearts rends itself in two every time I take a sip of a deceptive sachet.

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

[INSTAGRAM]

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y/n Humph!

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Cheryl busy being my own icon

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

[alwaysmarveling]

The Incident, The Aftermath

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Amputation, an explosion, hints at PTSD (it’s a wee bit sad but I promise it gets happier)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: So I finally got the guts to post something... If you like it, thank Camz :) If you don’t, sorry mi dude, I’m working on it (but constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!).

You’d slipped into the tank top and shorts easily enough, and here you were standing in front of your dresser. One look at the unruly mop atop your head caused you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You carefully ran the brush through your hair, allowing the knots to loosen up one by one.

You’d been leaving your hair down every day since The Incident, but that was two weeks ago. Assuming everything healed properly, Tony and Bruce were going to fit you for a prosthetic in a week, but until then you had to work with what you had… which was one less arm than you were used to having your entire life.

The universe wasn’t being very thoughtful of your adjustment—it was supposed to get up to ninety-five degrees today—so maybe today would be the day to try putting it up. You had seen some people do it on YouTube, and it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, if you had enough dexterity to wield a knife with one hand and still leave your opponent in pieces, you should be able to put up your hair with one hand easy peasy.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to really do with it. You didn’t see a braid working. You could pin some of it to the side so that it wouldn’t fall in your face, but with the heat, you wanted it completely up. A messy bun could work, though; it was simple, got the hair off of your neck, and it was meant to be a bit untidy. Perfect. With the style in mind, you pushed an elastic around your wrist and set off to work.

Twisting your hair was easy enough. Looping it around to actually form a bun was slightly more difficult, but you managed. When it came time to actually loop the elastic around the bun, though, things got more complicated.

You copied the video, pressing your head against the wall to hold your hair in place while you secured the elastic. However, looping the elastic around the bun without significantly shifting your hair was proving to be extremely difficult. Nevertheless, you managed to do it. The mirror then filled with your reflection as you examined your handiwork.

Handiwork was one word for it. Simply put, it looked like a toddler had done your hair. You weren’t sure how exactly you had messed up since you couldn’t really see behind your head, but you could see the result, and it wasn’t pretty. You let out a puff of air, pulling the elastic out and reaching for your brush. One glance at the clock told you you had enough time for two or three more attempts before you had to call it a day.

Five tries later, you were no better off than you were before. Sure, the bun was supposed to be messy, but there was a certain art to a messy bun. This just looked like a giant cat spit a hairball on top of your head. On top of that, you were now running late to meet Wanda for grocery shopping.

“Miss Y/N,” FRIDAY started.

“Tell her I’ll be down in five,” you sighed, your eyes brimming with tears. You supposed one more day of leaving your hair down wouldn’t kill you even if it was going to be hot, but you just wanted to be able to take care of yourself. You hated seeing the looks of sympathy your teammates gave you every time you had to ask for help for the simplest things, whether it be grabbing a plate at the bottom of the stack or setting up equipment for training.

Sure, things were getting a little easier, like dressing yourself without help. You could deal with the phantom pain. It was excruciating, but pain was one part of the job that you were used to. You had also managed to hide your frustration from the team pretty well since The Incident, but you weren’t sure if that made it any better; half of them seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you.

When it came to the nightmares, though, that was much harder to hide, especially considering you shared a bed with one of the lightest sleepers in the world. You hated waking her up every night, your body soaked in sweat and chest heaving as you forced yourself to remember that it was all over, forced your mind to believe that you were safe even when your body didn’t.

Before you could really understand what was happening, your emotions from the last few weeks bubbled over. Anger, frustration, anguish, and countless others flew to the surface, demanding to be released. Your fingers dug into your hair, yanking on the elastic—along with several strands of hair—until they flew out, hitting the floor somewhere you didn’t care to find. The hairbrush was next, being snatched from the top of the dresser and chucked at the door as hard as you could manage.

“What the- Y/N? Are you okay, babe?”

The thwack of the brush hitting the door caused you to flinch even though you were the one who caused it. Not processing your girlfriend’s muffled words at first, your eyes widened as you stepped back, and for a split second you were transported back to The Incident.

---

You grabbed the last civilian who had fallen behind the others, practically tossing them out of the building before it could explode.

“Y/N! Get out of-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, the building burst into flame, and the blast sent you flying in the air.

When you came to, the only thing you could focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from your elbow. You couldn’t make out exactly what had happened to it, but, wow, to say it hurt was an understatement.

It was several minutes later before the ringing cleared from your ears and you finally realized someone was talking to you.

“Y/N! Y/N, love, please, where are you?” The familiar voice drove you to use the little energy you had left, lifting your head off of the pavement to scan your surroundings. The dust and debris from the explosion made it difficult to see, but you could just make out her shape a few feet away from you.

“Turn… around, you doofus… I’m… behind you,” you wheezed out before letting your head hit the ground.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I thought we-” The second the former assassin saw you, her mouth dropped.

“What is it, Natty?” you asked weakly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just give me a second, okay? I’m going to get the rest of the team so we can get you out of here.”

“Liar,” you wheezed, half-teasing, half-panicked, but your girlfriend had already turned around. Squinting your eyes, you could just make out the small movements of her lips that told you she was talking, but the chaos and your pain and exhaustion—and probably blood loss, but you didn’t know that at the time—was making it impossible to hear what she was saying.

“Okay, they’re coming,” she reassured you, kneeling down next to you.

“What happened?” you tried again.

“You’re a hero, babe,” the redhead murmured, smoothing back your hair and brushing dirt from your face.

“Yeah?” Your voice was growing weaker, and you were becoming loopier than someone who had just come out of wisdom teeth surgery. Natasha knew it was only moments until you passed out.

“Yeah, you did it, sweet girl. You saved them all.”

“I did? I seriously hope Helen is a superhero too because someone’s going to need to save my arm. God, it hurts.” Natasha only let out a huff at your poor attempt at a joke, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? Can you do that?” Something wet hit your cheek, making you realize that your girlfriend was crying.

“Of course,” you scoffed. “Don’t…” You left her hanging.

---

After what felt like years, you finally regained your breath and returned to the present. “I’m fine,” you yelled out, your voice wavering. You knew Natasha wouldn’t believe you. Not only was she your girlfriend, but she was literally one of the best spies in the world. Sure enough, she tried to open the door, her efforts in vain since you’d locked it when you were changing.

“Hon, can you please open the door?”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you breathed out, your tone slightly more stable.

“Just let me in,” she pleaded. “Please?” Her soft voice made you sigh in resignation as you wiped your eyes. You tugged your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest on your head at least a little before showing yourself to her.

“Hi,” you practically whispered, not making eye contact with her once you had opened the door.

“Hey,” she responded softly, taking your hand in one of hers and using her other hand to lift up your chin. Rather than saying anything else immediately, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead as her second hand slid down to completely wrap your one hand in both of hers. The two of you stood in the doorway for a while, eyes closed and hand in hand. You weren’t a super soldier, but you were sure you could hear both of your heartbeats, yours slowing down to beat in tandem with hers.

“You okay?” she finally asked. You nodded slightly, your breathing now back to normal and the tears no longer streaming down your face.

Natasha always had a way of calming you down. You didn’t get frustrated or angry often, but when you did… the rest of the Avengers always joked that you were seconds away from becoming the next Hulk.

The former assassin slowly reached up to untangle your locks, noticing how you flinched when she first reached your hairline.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with the faintest hint of uncertainty, “It’s been a while since I did your hair, and I saw this new hairstyle online that I thought would look really good on you…”

“Thank you,” you sighed quietly as you leaned into her touch.

“My pleasure,” your girlfriend smirked, pushing you inside your shared bedroom and closing the door behind her. She guided you to sit on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed behind you. Brush in hand, Nat started sectioning off your hair. A small smile graced her face when you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully enjoy the contact.

Now halfway down your head, she spoke up again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

“Nat…” you warned, although you had nothing to say afterwards, and the redhead took advantage of that.

“I can only imagine how upset you feel about losing your arm-”

“Nat,” you interrupted, your voice slightly harder this time. Natasha sighed as she continued to braid your hair.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m here for you. I was here for you before, and I’m here for you now. The number of limbs that you have doesn’t affect that. It also doesn’t affect your worth. You’re not useless, Y/N. You never were, and you certainly aren’t now.” Despite your best efforts, tears began to trail down your face. Natasha pursed her lips at the sight but continued, knowing that if she stopped now she wouldn’t have another chance to say what she needed to. “You are-” Nat’s fingers froze when you mumbled out something unintelligible, the hand over your mouth preventing you from enunciating. “What was that?” You sighed before speaking again.

“It’s not the arm. It’s not just the arm,” you corrected.

“Then what is it?” She resumed braiding your hair, her voice matching the tenderness in her hands.

“It’s- it’s the- god, this is embarrassing.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, love. I’ll never judge you for anything you’re feeling,” the redhead promised, pausing once again to brush her lips above your brow bone.

“It’s the fear, Nat. I can’t go one second without thinking about the explosion. About… losing it. I’m scared 24/7, Nat, and even if I could forget about it for even a moment, I have a constant reminder.” Natasha didn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes had flickered to the remainder of your arm that hung by your side. “And, god,” you laughed bitterly, “god, does it make me feel weak. What kind of Avenger constantly lives in fear and panic? How am I ever supposed to help anyone like this?”

“Y/N.” She stopped braiding your hair for the third time, pulling on it slightly so that you were forced to meet her eyes above you. “You are the strongest person I know. I know you’re scared, but guess what? You went through something super traumatic. It’s okay to be scared. Honestly, I might be more concerned if you came out of that and you weren’t scared at all. All of us get scared, and that’s perfectly valid because being scared does not make you weak. Being scared means you value your life, and that’s a good thing.” She paused her speech to relax her grip on your hair, but your head remained tilted, captivated by the passion and emotion that filled your girlfriend’s face and voice.

“And the Avenger that lives in fear and panic is the same one that was ready to give up her life to save people. You helped people in the past not because you had two arms or because you weren’t scared of stuff. You helped them for the sole reason that you made a commitment to helping others, to making the world a better place, and that is the sole reason why you will still be able to help others.” Natasha’s whole body was trembling. The hands that held your hair were white at the fingertips as she clenched them. 

“I admire you more than anyone else in the world. You’re a hero, Y/N. Not ‘were,’ but ‘are.’ You’re the hero of every single person whose life you saved, and you’re my hero.”

“I didn’t-” Despite your interruption, the spy didn’t stop talking.

“You saved my life, Y/N, the second you walked into it. You give me a reason to live, to wake up every morning. And you’re my hero even more so now than before because you get up every day with a smile on your face, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“Not much of a smile now,” you sniffed. Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up slightly. Nat laughed at the juxtaposition, finishing up the intricate braids woven in your hair before turning you around to face her.

“But look how quickly that changed,” she teased, pecking your lips after she wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

“It was my pleasure. Plus, I was right, this hairstyle does look really good on you.” You bit your lip in embarrassment as you turned your gaze to the floor. “I’ll always do your hair for you, milaya.”

“I was actually thinking of shaving it off,” you smirked. As you examined your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but agree with Natasha. You looked good, missing arm and all. A little teary-eyed and runny-nosed, but amazing nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare,” your girlfriend scoffed. “I know I said I wasn’t leaving, but I might at that,” she winked.

“Hey!” You tackled her to the ground. Reaching for her abdomen, her eyes widened as your grin grew larger.

“Y/N, don’t you dare-” You talked over her, not paying attention to her threat.

“I can still tickle you with one arm.” The spy didn’t get the chance to respond before you pounced, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

“Stop, Y/N, please!” she managed to get out.

“Are you going to leave me then? Huh?”

“No, no! I won’t! I’ll never leave you! Please, just stop!” You let up on the tickling, gently brushing away the hair that was thrown over her face seconds ago. “Great,” Nat groaned, “now I need to redo my hair.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly. Seeing the pout on her face, you bent down and met her lips with yours.

“I meant it, though.”

“That you need to fix your hair?” Natasha laughed at the way your head had adorably cocked to one side.

“No, silly, that you’re my hero. That you’re the strongest, most admirable person I know. That I’ll always be there for you, and that I’ll always do your hair for you, even when you don’t need me to do it for you any longer.”

“I love you.” You kissed her again. “And I will always love you.” Noticing a slight shift in her face, you paused, studying her expression. “Don’t you dare start singing that song.”

“Miss Y/N, Miss Maximoff is wondering if you are alright.”

“Shoot, I need to go grocery shopping with Wanda!” You scrambled to get off of the floor, smoothing out your clothes before looking for your shoes. “Uh, FRIDAY, tell her I’m so sorry and I’m coming down right now.”

“One more for the road?” Nat pouted just before you reached the door.

“Of course. Thank you again, for everything.” Your lips melted together for a second before you pulled away.

---

“Wanda, I’m here, I’m so, so sorry!” You half-ran, half-slid down the hallway to meet your best friend at the door.

“Hey,” Wanda turned to greet you. “What took you-” She paused upon making eye contact with you. “I like your hair,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” you smiled back, “Nat did it for me.”

[damnlance]

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

-

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

[cyndavilachase]

I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended… 

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).  

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant. 

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation. 

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers. 

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt. 

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely. 

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that. 

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.

[minimalismdiary]

Quitting social media | digital minimalism

I deleted facebook 8 years ago, snapchat 5 years ago, instagram 3 years ago, twitter 2 years ago and gladly never made tiktok

Shopaholic

I was influenced by beauty bloggers very badly which led me to have multiple identity crisis's and change my style many times. Shopping was a lifestyle and hobby for me since I never made space for saving any money. As a result my wardrobe was exploding in clothes that I wore once or twice or never even had the opportunity to wear. This was the pivotal moment that started minimalism because I had no choice but to get rid of my clothes and start decluttering.

Inconsistent style

Changing styles and experimenting with appearance was difficult to portray online due to fear of judgements. Through the years I had many different phases and would completely erase my feed and start from scratch for every new era. This made me worry about what others will think about my inconsistency

Going broke to look rich

Funding for the lifestyle for a perfect feed was expensive due to outings, diners, and mainly outfits. It seemed on the surface that I was wealthy but the truth was that every penny was spent on the image with nothing being saved or spent wisely. I would see a photo of a blogger and try to replicate it by buying a similar outfit and going to the same location

Insecurities

I was constantly comparing my appearance to that of others even though they have gone through plastic surgeries. I would spend hours contemplating going through these surgeries to feel as beautiful as them.

Makeup

My makeup obsession stemmed from my insecurities however social media encouraged me to be dependent on makeup. The perfect image meant I felt the need to wear a full face of makeup every time I left the house in order to be picture perfect every second. This made me feel worse about my true self and more insecure when bare faced. Now I only wear makeup a few times a year for occasions and I can confidently be natural outdoors. There's no more pressure for selfies.

Aesthetic lifestyle

Maintaining a certain style or aesthetic became exhausting and was draining my energy because I felt like I trapped myself in to one aesthetically pleasing box

False portrayal

I no longer wanted to deceive everyone by only sharing best moments when my reality was the complete opposite in every way from my appearance and makeup to what was really happening behind close doors. My life was far from perfect so I felt fake by presenting it as if it was

Jealousy and envy

Posting regularly and so perfectly invited jealousy and envy which negatively effected my life. A private life has become a much happier life. I don't trust that everyone wants the best for me and is happy for my successes so I keep everything to myself.

Poor time management

Every minute of the day was about taking pictures to share online in order to seem interesting or aesthetically pleasing. This wasted a lot of time and cause problems by missing things or running late. Especially getting a daily selfie before leaving the house.

Productivity

The lack of productivity was terrible. I never achieved anything for several years until I quit social media and focussed on improving myself. I now fill boredom and spare time for good habits. As a result I've studied 3 courses, joined 3 classes, read 15 books within 6 months, and take morning jogs a few times a week

Celebrity culture

It was part of my routine to check the pages of my favourite celebrities and show them some love. This love turned into idolisation and consumed me with their lives and drama. I would passionately speak about celebrity gossip in majority of my conversations. Now I'm oblivious and focus on my life and better it.

Conversations

I was having less conversations by being more focussed on taking the perfect photo instead of talking with the friend infront of me which made the quality of our time together worse on my behalf. I view this as inconsiderate behaviour now and give my full attention to everyone.

Socialising

Since I don't know what my few friends are up to and they don't know anything about me either I'm required to reach out and directly make plans together. This has made for better real life experiences that no one needs to know about through posting it online. I'm in the present moment.

Sleep routine

The addiction to blu light exposure was apparent in my tendency to mindlessly scroll until the sun would rise. Scrolling had no time limit which made sleep very challenging. Getting out of bed and getting tasks done also took a lot of effort due to scrolling on apps. Now I fall asleep quicker and get out bed faster.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

I told myself I’d never post about my mental health and toxic family on my blog again, but I feel like I’m going to explode and I need to talk to someone.

TW: coming out, gaslighting, villainising, toxicity

So, for those who don’t know, I grew up in a very abusive home. My parents were psychologically and verbally abusive. I am the youngest of 2 kids and almost all of the abuse was directed at me. When my parents divorced, I moved in with my mum because I thought my dad was the abusive one and I had no relationship with him, nor did I feel safe with him. So, I’ve been living with my mum for nearly 10 years and in those ten years, I have been subjected to 100% of her shit. If she’s angry, she takes it out on me; if she’s upset with my brother, it’s somehow my fault.  

Last year, I realised that I was nonbinary, and I felt confident enough to come out to friends and family - but only a few listened. So I tried again a few weeks ago: my brother didn’t seem to listen, his fiancé did, my high school friends listened and are trying, but my mum - the person I have to face every day - is another story.

Last month, I talked to my psych about coming out to her and why I was terrified of confronting her about my identity and I realised it’s because part of me is terrified of being thrown out of the house, but more so, I’m terrified of the backlash I’d face from her and of the idea of her not accepting me and me having to cut her out of my life because she’s the only family I have (my brother’s turning into my dad and doesn’t talk to me, and my dad is out of my life). But this was something that was eating me up inside.

Last week, my mum and I started watching the new season of Queer Eye and there's an episode where a trans girl sits down with her dad who didn't accept her transition to ask why because he meant so much to her (they ended up making up in the end and he's supportive of her). Anyway, I used this as a foundation for the conversation I needed to have with my mum, because she only seems to understand something if she has a reference as a foundation. And (as my psych suggested) I asked her directly if the reason she calls me my birthname and she/her is because she can't accept me as nonbinary. She said that she ‘doesn't not accept [me]’ (her exact words; as usual avoiding the direct answer I need which would be 'yes' she accepts me or 'no' she doesn't) but for 20+ years I've been a girl/her daughter.

I explained that I've never been actually been a girl, I've just been told I had to be a girl because of my biology, but I am nonbinary. 

My next question was “What can I do to help you remember or relearn my name and pronouns?" and this is where the toxicity came in. I asked if it would help if I reminded her or corrected her whenever she used she/her pronouns or my birthname, and she said "No, because you always bite off my head when you do that." 

1 - I have never corrected or reminded my mother about my name or gender because I live in fear the backlash I'd get from her. 

2 - She villainises me, so that I feel bad for speaking up. She makes me feel bad for asking to be recognised for who I am and makes it sound as though simply asking for something is an act of aggression (which is something my psych has pointed out: I never ask anyone for anything because I've been taught it's selfish and aggressive/abusive) 

3 - She continues to gaslight and abuse me. What’s more, just the other day she said she has never gaslit me, verbally or psychologically abused me, and it was only my dad who did when it was both of them.

What's more, even though I sat down to have this conversation with her and have come out to her many times before this conversations, she still refuses to acknowledge that I’m nonbinary, use they/them pronouns, gender neutral terms, or ‘Jay’ or ‘AJ’ (the names I chose). In fact, she intentionally goes out of her way to call me my birthname (Alicia), the shortened version of my name/nickname that I’ve hated since I was a toddler (Leash), and she/her. I pointed out that ever since I came out as nonbinary, she's been using she/her and my birthname more often and she said she hasn't. But, before I came out, she'd call me 'chook' (which I don’t like but tolerate) or AJ, but as soon as I came out to her early last year, she only calls me Leash and Alicia. So she's gaslighting me on that too.

And now that she’s resigned from her job and not looking for another one, she’s home 24/7 and I have to face this constant barrage. It’s tearing me apart but I can’t leave because she’s left me emotionally and financially dependent on her.

I’m stuck and I’m not allowed to be who I am or stand up for myself. I’ve tried so many times, so many different ways, that at this point, I don’t know what to do.

[essaysbyciara]

It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane. 

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up. 

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light. 

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.” 

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word.  She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer. 

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!” 

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like. 

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit,  social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.” 

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could. 

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…” 

“Man,  he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you. 

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed. 

“Aight, fave. I will.  Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.” 

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake. 

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel. 

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it. 

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name. 

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same. 

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible. 

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena. 

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again. 

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena. 

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy… 

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell. 

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol 

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it. 

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi. 

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him? 

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh. 

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really--  and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days,  weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request. 

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot. 

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram. 

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection. 

End of Part I

[allegra-writes]

"Bad together"

Prologue: Benjamin Reilly

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none.

"And if I'm dead to you

Why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed"

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

"... It's a disaster! Look at her! It's like someone took a look at Black Cat, selected everything that made her sexy and then took it out!"

Black Cat. The name froze the young photographer on his tracks right outside his boss' office. He hadn't heard that name in a long time, the last sighting had been well over a year ago. He would know.  After all, it had been him, the very last person to have seen Felicia Hardy, alive or dead.

"What are you talking about? That looks hot af, not to mention badass!" Jade's persuasive voice reached his ears, making him smirk: It was no secret the chief editor had a soft spot for the young intern. And, on her part, the petite brunette was a firecracker. Poor old Jameson didn't stand a chance. "Come on, dad. Single handedly taking down three of the Kingpin's goons? That's impressive. It deserves to be one of the slides!" 

"Not if we don't get a higher quality picture. That blurry video is good enough for a thumbnail, but not for a slide" Slides were a big deal, they were the Dailybugle.net's equivalent of a front page, and if J. Jonah Jameson took something seriously, it was his web site. He prided himself in the quality of the "receipts" of his "tea", as if that validated the trashiness of the bullshit articles he posted, more fiction from hyper imaginative wannabe writers than serious work from real reporters. 

"Well, then let's get the pictures. Where is that star photographer of yours?" 

The photographer rolled his eyes, typical Jade. As if the queen of cool didn't know his name. As if she hadn't graced his bed a handful of times already. 

"That's a good question. Dolores, get me Reilly!"

"I'm here, Jonah" Ben finally stepped inside the office, throwing an envelope on Jameson's desk before throwing himself on a chair across it. He could feel Jade's eyes on him, almost like a physical caress, trailing from the long, slick back curls on the top of his head, to the muscles of his arms, threatening to rip open the seams at the sleeves of his white t-shirt, to his jean clad thighs. Still, he didn't turn to look at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction. 

"What do you have for me today, boy?"

Ben gesticulated vaguely with his head in the direction of Jade, and Jameson caught the hint. 

"Jade, out!" 

"But, dad, my story!" The petulant reply left her mouth before she could stop it, undoubtedly the product of years of habit. But she had the grace to look embarrassed and leave the office without another word, trying to save whatever professionalism she had left. 

Once she was gone, Jameson opened the envelope, flipping through the various pictures of a masked figure swinging around New York in a black and red suit. 

"Hmmm… these are good" the older man praised, staring at the images of a frustrated robbery at 5th avenue

Ben snifled nocomitically,

"There was a fire at 16th avenue happening at the same time" He offered, "we could use that. Spider-Man forgets his roots and leaves his old neighborhood to fend for itself, running off to save some pretty socialite…"

"Oh, that is excellent! See, this is why I like you, kid. You have initiative. Unlike these snowflakes out there. Oh, but Spider-Man is a hero. Hero, my ass"

"Well, when you watch your so called hero sit back and do nothing as your life gets destroyed" Ben shrugged, "the rose colored glasses tend to fall off…"

Jameson made a face at that,

"Yeah, about that… I'm sorry. For the role the Daily Bugle played on that…"

Ben shook his head, 

"You thought you were getting the truth out there. It's not your fault to have been played, along with half the world. Plus," he added, sounding genuinely enthusiastic, "you gave me this job. And now we can really tell the truth"

"Even when our idea of the truth is somehow different" The older man scoffed, flipping around a picture of Spider-Man sat on what appeared to be a hammock of his own webs, eating a hamburger and reading something that looked suspiciously like a comic book, "Still hung up on that high schooler theory of yours?"

"Well, if it talks like a brat and acts like a brat…" Ben took out another envelope, this time containing a few burger king wrappers and, effectively, a spider-man comic book. 

"Where did you even get these?"

"Harlem" was Ben's curt reply, and Jameson knew that was as exact a location as he was going to get. 

"So you still believe this is a copycat? Some kid playing dress up"

Ben simply shrugged again. 

"Well, there seems to be an epidemic of those lately" Jameson admitted, indicating Ben to come closer, passing a tablet to him, "Jade just handled me this, take a look"

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself, already knowing what he was going to see in it. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but hope to be wrong. To hope the silver haired figure facing three much bigger, stronger looking ones as he pressed play, wasn't the same one he had spent weeks memorizing last summer. Wasn't the body he had found solace in, when everything fell apart, once again, for the hundredth time in his life. 

To hope it wasn't you. 

But when in his twenty-two or so years of existence, had things ever gone his way? 

Ben felt the screen crack under his fingertips.

"I've heard of her" he lied through his teeth, "didn't even think she was real, to be honest. Extremely elusive, and cunning." That much was true, "I don't understand how something as mundane as a security camera managed to catch her…" 

Unless you wanted to be caught, that was. 

"Well, I don't care if she's the fucking Loch Ness monster, I want an HD picture of her on my desk tomorrow to go with Jade's article. I already have a headline: New Catastrophe Jen wreaks havoc on Hell's Kitchen" Jameson's eyes lit up with glee as he weaved his hands up in the air, like writing on an invisible marquee. 

Ben snorted

"Don't you mean Calamity Jane?"

Jameson's face fell, the color rising to his cheeks, characteristic vein popping on his forehead. 

"I meant what I meant, boy! Now, what are you still doing here? You have 24 hours to get me that picture"

"I'm going to need 72," came Ben's unphased reply, "and I want twice what you pay me for the spidey pics"

Jameson's vein looked about ready to explode,

"48 hours. And deal."

Ben jumped from his seat and bolted out of the office before his boss could change his mind, not realizing until it was too late that he was on a collision course with a sweet looking short haired blonde girl. 

"Watch where you're going! Jeez!"

"Me? You're the one who crashed against me!" 

Ben rolled his eyes, but crouched next to the girl anyway, helping her gather the papers that had been sent flying on impact back together.

"Peter? Oh my god, is that you?"

Of course. What an idiot, he should had recognized that annoying, shrilly voice the second he heard it. It had caught him off guard, something he knew he couldn't afford. But how could he had ever imagine he could run into Betty fucking Brant, Yale cum laude, in the freaking dailybugle.net headquarters of all places?

"Sorry, sweetheart. You must confuse me with someone else…" He mumbled, lowering his head even more in a vain attempt to hide his face.

"Of course not!" She insisted, "You're Peter, Peter Parker, we went to Midtown together!"

"Miss, I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Don't be silly, Peter!" She chuckled, completely deft to his tone or the way his whole demeanor had changed the second she had called him by the old name. "How have you been? Oh, just wait until I tell Ned, he's going to be so-"

CRACK.

At last, the tablet that had been in peril ever since Jameson had put it in Ben's hands, the one that contained his assignment, met its demise, both broken halves falling to the ground, along with all the papers he had picked up for Betty. It was several moments before he could get the shaking of his hands under control, before the tar black rage inside him subsided enough for him to be able to move without shifting. But it had.

"Peter Parker is dead." He deadpanned, dark brown eyes finally meeting Betty's stunned blue ones, "Tell Ned that, he'll probably be glad to hear it"

With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving a confused and agitated Betty behind. 

To be continued...