#I'll be knocked out immediately after I post this

[starswornoaths]

In Light of Day

Follow-up for In Shade of Moonlight I had thought lost to the ether years ago (although if you want to read this whole scene from start to finish, Something Like Home is the start of the evening referenced in the fic, followed by First Steps and then In Shade of Moonlight but god. I haven't gone back to edit them please lower your expectations they're old.) Once I found it, I couldn't stop picking at it until I eventually had to just post it already. Hopefully I'll get more of what I've already written posted at some point.

Post 3.3, pre-3.4, it's the morning after the festivities. While there is no hangover to be found in Borel Manor, yearning that spilled over in the moonlight is now examined and re-examined in the light of day. Duty and Devotion are inextricably tied, yet where one can so often subsume the other, other times either may be consumed.

Word count: 4,400

~*~

Serella was relieved to find the sun was rising to greet her the second time she opened her eyes that morning. As mind and body reconnected, she found herself bundled into blankets beside another warm body and comfortably in bed rather than flung to the floor in her sleep. She took in the sight of a barely-familiar room and the faint creak of howling winds pressing an old house, and she knew with immediate and delightful certainty that the previous night hadn’t been a dream.

More pleasant still was the weight of Aymeric’s arm slung over the curve of her hip.

Truly, it was always the small mercies that kept Serella aloft.

With great care so as to avoid waking him, she negotiated the slide of his arm to drape across her back, that she might turn to watch him sleep. There was no force strong enough to stop her from smiling as she took in the sight.

Bereft of the waking world’s worries to weigh on him, his features were slack with rest and smudged into the pillow without care. Once removed from the mantle of his station and free of the pinch in his brow, he almost looked like a different person entirely. In a kinder world, he might know this feeling even when awake—but then, so would she.

Her hand itched with the want to run her fingers through his silken curls, strewn wildly all over and haloed in the morning light. He looked so utterly endearing to her in that moment, with an almost boyish pout pushed into his full lips by the pillow he burrowed into.

Serella felt her heart squeeze. Two things occurred to her in that moment, one right after the next: that she had never seen Aymeric so utterly unburdened and unreachable to the rest of the world, and she wanted to do all in her power to make more moments like these, if only to hoard for herself like a dragon.

Assuming such a thing would even be welcome.

If last night had been a fairy tale, this morning was the stumble out of the fairy’s circle. The moment where everything became real again, and the world was sustainably imperfect.

Still asleep, Aymeric shifted such that his other hand knocked into hers in the scant space between them. Even in dreams, the touch was enough to curl his lips in an unguarded smile he half smothered into his pillow, fingers flexing for a fleeting, blind search of her.

But time was liable to take notice of Serella if she further entangled them. If not time, then certainly duty or any number of things that would rip her from this peace. Rather than risk it, she gathered the pillow beneath her in a white-knuckled fist. As she watched the gilded fingers of dawn blindly fumble for the shape of them through the parted curtain, she prayed the city—the realm—would forget them a little while longer.

In this liminal space between what she had dared to want and what was real, scars from flesh to marrow and deeper still threatened her with their phantom pains. Muscles in need of stretching burned, and the chill in the air threatened to make every joint ache the second she left the blankets. Bones creaked in protest after being still for so long in sleep when she tried to address those aches that howled first. For several long moments, her body was caught in its own space between thrumming soreness from stillness and lancing ache from movement, waiting for the worst of both to ease.

And from below the monotonous agony, a long-standing anxiety welled up from the pit of her rib cage to form a roiling bubble of intrusive thoughts that pressed at her throat. The what-ifs began to whisper in her ears again. Despite her best efforts, what had been muffled to a distant buzz in the previous eve’s heady rush was given crystalline clarity in light of day.

For her heart was but a muscle, and it ached like all the rest.

Such worry always came on the heels of vulnerability. Of course it did; fear was an old and familiar stalagmite that had gradually emerged from the pit in her stomach through years of buried feeling being left to itself. Crystallized and jagged monument of unaddressed pain that it was, its sharpest and highest facets had long since lodged themselves in the spaces between her ribs. To dislodge even a piece of it, something inside of her would surely have to break. The morning light bounced off its raw facets in her mind’s eye, sending her vision swimming with spots until she realized its true source was the thinning of her own breath.

To persevere in silence would be to welcome the press of a blade to her heart, trusting that it would not be run through—and oh, how Serella had bled in the past.

It wasn’t as though the fear was unfounded, even knowing Aymeric to be a good man; blunt though the instrument be, duty could well be what he might wield to beat all they were back to the shadows. Worse—it could well be his expectation that she was of like mind.

Surely not—surely not. And yet…

If Serella had been wrong to let herself be vulnerable, to want—if she had guessed wrong again—

Scratching at the door ripped her from her spiral so suddenly that she nearly jumped. No doubt it was Duchess, whom she heard rumbling from the depths of the manor last night.

A more insistent scratch came as if in answer. Serella strongly suspected such a temperamental old thing would start to yowl if her demands weren’t answered in a timely fashion.

She knew the type.

Peering back at Aymeric, who seemed yet unperturbed by the sound, she found even the thought of waking him to border on criminal—and he doubtless would once Duchess kicked up enough of a fuss.

The lady of the house needed feeding, and Serella was already up. No sense in robbing him of what little extra sleep he could find, after all. Not when her anxieties were so chatty this morn as to already rob her of it.

Decision made, she eased herself from the loose tangle of limbs and tucked the covers around him as he continued to doze. When he pawed at the empty space left by her absence, she compensated him with her pillow. Once freed of darling and duvet both, she slid from the bed entirely with immense care and only minimal popping sounds from her joints as she ambled over toward the door.

Sure enough, Serella was met with the lady of the house peering up at her once she’d eased the door open. More fur than feline, she sat at the doorway like a prim little tumbleweed with indignant green eyes, all dense fur patterned with beautiful mottled browns and brushed to its utmost fluffiness.

“Good morning.” She greeted, slipping out into the hall and twisting the doorknob to soften its closing behind her. “Breakfast?”

Mrr, Duchess rumbled in assent. Serella felt it in the floorboards.

“Well go on, then,” she said with a gesture to the hall, “I know you know where it is.”

With a thump of her tail and a wheezy huff, the acting Viscountess trotted off down the stairs. Her house guest followed gamely, hopeful that she behaved as most cats would and make a dash for her food at the promise of being served.

Blessedly, Duchess was no different: with a startling amount of speed for her apparent age, she made a beeline down the stairs and around the bend to a specific cabinet in the kitchen just beside the pantry. Once sat primly before the little door, she began to paw at a worn patch of scratches at its bottom corner and look up expectantly with the widest, roundest eyes that she could and the softest trill she had managed thus far.

Oh, this was manipulation if ever she’d seen it, doubtless perfected over eight lifetimes’ worth of practice on family and guests. Must have the same teacher as her owner, Serella mused to herself.

After a brief scan to find her feeding bowl—full but for the emptied center of the dish, of course—Serella was soon scooping an appropriate amount of food for the lady.

“Your breakfast, madam!” She said, presenting the bowl in a with a flourish.

Duchess sniffed up at her, nearly thankful, before promptly burying her face in the kibble and paying her guest no further mind.

“You yet possess your hand.” Aymeric’s amused voice drifted in from behind her.

Startled, Serella spun to face him with eyes wide and hands held up to her heart as if she had been caught doing something wrong. It was effortless to find her ease when she saw him leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a sleepy smile on his face.

“Of all your accomplishments, that may well be among the most impressive,” he teased with a chuckle, “not even I have managed unscathed every time.”

“I’ll count that as a personal victory, then.” She said, at a loss as to what else to say.

Though she wore a set of his pajamas, she might as well have not changed from her gown last night for how reverently he looked at her. Even at barely seven bells in the morning and doubtless with a bird’s nest in her hair he still looked at her as though she were spun from starlight and woven in his dreams.

Her gaze shied from his, all at once overwrought with raw and tender ache.

“I’d hoped to avoid waking you,” she explained as if she were trying to get out of trouble.

Which was silly, she knew. She’d only fed his cat.

“Seems my stealth could do with a bit of work, though,” she added with a lame gesture between them.

She wasn’t even sure it was meant to be a joke, but he offered her a huff of laughter all the same.

“In truth, your absence woke me more than you leaving,” he admitted, his smile turning bashful when his gaze demurred as he added, “though the decoy was almost as charming as hearing you through the door.”

His ears flushed a faint pink when he glanced back at her and explained, “I reached for you—and when you were not there, it alarmed me.”

Not entirely unreasonable—she had flung herself off the bed in the middle of the night. He’s gracious enough not to mention it.

“I would have otherwise been tempted to lounge with you all day,” she mumbled, and felt near feverish for how hot her face burned at the admittance, “if I thought we could get away with it, at least.”

It seemed to please Aymeric greatly, however; as his smile grew wide enough for his eyes to crinkle at the corners as he looked at her in full again. As if that helped him decide something, he pushed off the doorway and moved closer with steps merry yet unhurried.

Serella still startled when he stopped within arm’s reach. He could have already made contact with her, yet he hesitated, as if wondering what she would do.

Nothing. She did nothing, save for white knuckle the counter behind her with the want to.

She wasn’t surprised at her struggle with letting that last wall between them fall, not after a year or so of skirting around one another. Not with her thoughts swarming her head like an agitated hive. Understanding it did not ease her lamentations. Did not quiet the buzzing.

“That may yet be arranged,” he murmured, unaware of her struggle.

His hand drifted to skim the thin shirt sleeve she wore with his knuckles, his expression almost shy. At no point on its dutiful march down her sleeve did his hand make contact with her. She felt the comet’s trail of his warmth all the same.

It wasn’t until the tip of his finger hooked on the cuff of her sleeve in a vague pantomime of holding her hand that she realized she had let go of the counter behind her. Startled, she looked up at him with a thin gasp to find him already peering at her through his lashes.

Holding her gaze steadily, he asked, “...If it should please you?”

It’s too early to be this sweet, she huffed at him in her mind.

She shivered despite the warmth of his knuckles against hers when his hand drifted those few ilms lower. Under his attention, her heart felt both deeply tender and fit to burst.

“It would.” Serella said softly, though refrained from giving in to the temptation to unmake the scant distance between them entirely.

Last night had been…perfect. Beyond perfect. Sharing their hearts, even an onze, even for a moment, had been more than she had ever dared hope for. In the light of day, where the dream was over and yet they still remained, she could hardly contain the affection she’d withheld for so long. Just the effort of it made her skin burn.

And yet…

That sharp, anticipatory pain in her heart where the blade could well find its purchase seized her bodily in that moment. The fault lines where it would break from such piercing groaned in warning.

Aymeric seemed to sense her hesitation, as he dropped her sleeve and moved a few ilms away. The hollow space where she had meant to lace their fingers together howled yet she could not force herself to move before at least this fear could be exorcised. She had no more room to bury it, and it would not help her exhume the rest.

“I,” she tried to croak though the words tangled in a lump in her throat.

Swallowing it, she tried again, “I don’t…I don’t know what you hope for us to be.”

At that, Aymeric stilled with a short yet shuddered intake of breath. Even his aether seemed to recoil in response but what startled Serella most was that for all the emotions that rippled along the surface of his heart, surprise was not among them.

The tangle of feelings radiating off of him was familiar—too familiar; not for the first time, she had nearly missed it for how similarly his struggle had mirrored her own. That tense anticipation for pain, the pre-emptive flinch before impact, she could feel every twitch that spoke of routine. The morbid vindication of ah, and there it is, to greet disaster after awaiting it for so long.

Expectant rather than dreading. Because this had happened to him before, she remembered.

In the few seconds it had taken her to make the connection, he had thinned his breathing, as if to make himself as scarce and unobtrusive as he could in this moment. Already, his body language began to shape itself in the familiar form of an apology, starting with the inward flinch of his shoulders.

Even blind, she would feel the way his aether roiled and his stomach dropped out from under him. Sensitive to it all as her Blessing had made her, it was impossible not to know the waves of his emotions as they crashed into her.

In a grim way, it was reassuring: he was just as much of a nervous mess as she.

Suddenly desperate to soothe it out of both of them, she took his hand and chose to be brave.

Body and soul, that surprised Aymeric. He could not catch his expression ere it crossed his face.

“I want to be with you.” she said—and though the words felt strange, like tasting an old secret on her tongue, she relished in the relief at saying them.

The breath left him as though he were struck, even as he beamed at her. As if given permission to breathe again, his chest rose with the slow, relieved inhale that left him in a sigh so deep as to sag his posture.

“Serendipity itself,” he said on the tapered end of his exhale, more air than words.

His hand was gentle when it brought hers to his lips. His warmth splashed across her knuckles in soft breaths as he kissed them once, twice, thrice in reverence.

“I want much the same—it feels at least a lifetime that I have yearned,” he admitted against her skin, peering at her through fanned lashes and a deep flush.

Relief and happiness crushed her heart from all sides at his words, enough that for a moment the swarm in her head scattered in dissaray. How could such an otherwise even toned and collected man have such infectious joy? The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall.

Turning her hand within his hold she instead curled it to cup his cheek. When he leaned into the touch and eclipsed her hand with his own, his lips sought her palm as though they were made solely to kiss it.

Her thumb traced the angle of his cheekbone as she struggled to find the words to say to help him understand. His thumb idly mirrored her movements, blindly pacing the length of a scar on her thumb he had come across as if in a trance as his lashes fluttered.

Seconds passed in the sort of sunlit slowness that moved like honey on a spoon, but Aymeric was eventually stirred to shift within her hold and face her fully. All syrup-slowness, his lashes lifted to let him regard her at length.

“You have concerns,” he said at last, his eyes still searching hers.

“Only one.” Serella answered, relieved and horrified all at once for his perceptive nature.

“I imagine you will find more in time, yet if there is only the one for now, then I would hear it.” he said, and let her hand slip from under his when she pulled it away. “I would help you find your ease.”

Words swam in her head, only forming coherent sentences at certain angles through the muck of her fears.

“I don’t…need any grand gestures. Nothing…announced.” Serella fumbled to explain, the words clumsy and anxious. “And I don’t want any of that—gods, it makes me anxious just to think of—“

“You are not one for ceremony.” Aymeric agreed, smiling.

Serella nodded. Wetting her lips, she tried to persevere, saying, “And—and I know there will be times where professionalism is more important. For both of us, really. I would want that distinction regardless, lest we be accused of corrupting one another’s stations.”

It was his turn to nod. “I agree,” he said.

“But that—” she cut herself off with a wince, bracing for the fall with a deep, steady inhale as she said in a rush, “that doesn’t mean I would be content to be hidden.”

“…Hidden?” Aymeric asked, and it was obvious he was taken aback for the way he almost physically jumped at the thought.

“I only mean—“ Realizing she was wording it poorly, she flustered. “I—I’m not really making myself clear, am I?”

“You are—I am merely struggling to see.” He reassured her.

With a tilt of his head, he asked, “Help me understand? How—why in the name of the Fury would I hide you?”

“It’s just…we’ve fought so hard for so long to reveal the Holy See’s secrets—both small and large.” she began slowly.

“A victory that has cost us much.” he agreed in a soft murmur.

“And…I don’t know if your station allows you to have room for me—but—”

Wetting her lips, she finally sighed and said, “for how hard we fought for the truth of the Theocracy, I would not want us to be the Republic’s first secret.”

Realization dawned on his face for the briefest moments before melting away into relief.

“Ah,” he sighed, gently, before asking, “is that what it was?”

When Serella looked at him again, his smile was impossibly soft.

“Aye,” she said, posture slumping over as the last of a sigh left her, “that’s it. My one concern.”

“Certainly a valid one, but permit me put it to rest.” Aymeric said, reaching for her again.

The first brush of his fingers on her face was enough for the tension in her shoulders to snap with such a force she almost felt lightheaded. Her head fell into his palm like the architecture of him was made to hold her.

He waited until she met his gaze before speaking again.

“There is naught preventing me from being with you, so long as we both wish for it.” Aymeric said, his hand soft as it stroked the apple of her cheek. “Nor would I ever wish to hide—I do not even think I could. Not after,” he flushed clear to the tips of his ears as he finished the sentence in an almost mumble, “not after so long pretending. I could not go back.”

She flushed in kind and resisted the urge to hide her face in his hand. Or his chest. Or the countertop. How many times would she be made to damn his earnest nature before noon? Before the sennight was over? Before the world ended?

May it happen enough that I lose count, Serella prayed.

“Well, then,” she said around a hum, “consider my concern addressed.”

“Good.”

He smiled, though the relief that rippled through him felt tentative to Serella.

“Do you have concerns?” she asked with a tilt of her head and an arch of her brow. “Since we’re clearing things up now—which, by the way, an important start to things, I should think.”

“...Only—only one for myself as well,” he said slowly, all the ease that had found him leaving in fits and starts.

As if wandering, his hand drifted to her hair and began to twirl a lock of it loosely around his finger. His gaze focused on his fidgeting.

He only did that when he was uncomfortable with what he was going to say next, she noted to herself; it was the only time he would ever look away from the person he was speaking with.

“I had not thought to address it—I presumed it was taken as given, but—“

“Better to say it,” Serella said. “Whatever it may be.”

“You have the right of it.” Aymeric agreed, even as he seemed almost reluctant. Still, his tone was even, almost detached, as he explained, “I would never want you to enter a courtship with me bearing—“

“Relationship.” she said.

When he looked at her in surprise, she added, “If you feel the need to court me to make up for lost time, I certainly won’t object, but I’d argue the past year or so has been exactly that. More or less.”

“…Relationship, then.” He said, and for all his trepidation, that seemed to please him greatly. “With perhaps some courtly romance for lost time.”

Though the troubled expression hadn’t fully left his face, even the thought of their bond had let joy rally in the corners of his lips. The melancholy almost immediately regained its dominance as he slowly continued, “I would not want you to agree to such a relationship bearing any misconceptions as to my…dedication.”

“...I don’t follow.” Serella admitted with a shake of her head.

“Pray do not misunderstand,” he pleaded, and she felt his anxiety in her throat. “I would never do aught without consent—“

“I know,” she reassured him. “I trust you.”

“That does not mean, however,” he spoke like it tortured him to do so as he said, “that I could always prioritize you over aught else. If at all, really.”

“Hmm?” She arched a brow—not offended, but still not entirely sure what he meant.

He must have taken her confusion as offense, because he spoke with just a tinge of desperation, as if frantic to articulate, “For however deep my feelings for you might run—so long as I hold even one office—” he winced before continuing, “—never mind two, I cannot hold you above my duties to Ishgard.”

As she thought. She resisted the urge to laugh, knowing how upset he was and how that would look. He had little and less to worry about in that regard—or at least, just as much to worry about as she did, which all evened out in the wash so far as she was concerned.

“Even were I not an officer of the Maelstrom,” she began, searching for the words, “as the Warrior of Light, I have to ask you much the same: can you feel comfortable, knowing I must put not only the needs of Limsa Lominsa but also the realm over you? That I most often must answer to a title before I can answer to my name?”

Aymeric blinked owlishly at her, and then she did laugh at his incredulous expression; clearly he had been so caught up in his own fears he had not perceived aught beyond them.

The sweet fool, she thought with infinite fondness.

“I can,” he said, almost excitedly.

“Then promise me,” she said, moving to lay a hand over his heart. “That you’ll never prioritize me over Ishgard and Her interests.”

“I swear it,” he said.

With a huff of relieved laughter he kissed her forehead.

His eyes were alight with relief and crinkled at the corners with his smile when he spoke again, “promise me in kind that you will never place me above the realm.”

“I would never,” she said—and spoke true.

As if her words dispelled his every trepidation, he smiled in that way that felt like the first rays of sunshine after endless rain.

“Any other concerns?” She asked, her grin returning in the wake of her relief. “Any at all?”

“None,” he responded, at last crossing those last few ilms of distance and curling his arms around her. She met him readily, hands smoothing away the singular cowlick in his hair. “None whatsoever.”

“So it’s us, then?” she asked, both for clarity and because she would never tire of hearing it. “For as long as we want?”

“Please,” he breathed, barely getting the word out before Serella discovered her new favorite feeling: his laughter, humming gently against her lips.

[taruruchi]

𝐃𝐚𝐲 4: 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲𝐨

Inspired by this post by @h0neybane !!

Random note I just wanna mention: Evelyn's drawing didn't have a veil and the crown/tiara (what's the difference) but I was looking at Ariel's wedding dress and wanted to reference those parts of the fit HSBDJNSFN

Taglist: @solxima @angelwishess @scint1llat3 @distant-velleity @twtysevapr @cynthinesia @h0neybane @viperbunnies @linabirb @thehollowwriter @wafflethewitchboy @siphoklansan @jewelulu @skibidibabygirl @jadelover69 (ask me if you wanna be added/removed! also if you wanna be removed just for february bc I'm posting every day 😭)

[bitterfucked]

in the first town i was hosting shows in a noise complaint ticket was $2000; minimum wage was $9 at the time and you got one month to pay the ticket. even if everyone in the punk house had been working full time, we literally would not have been able to afford both the ticket and rent between all of us. we paid it by putting on more shows (hey, concerned citizen? guess whst the direct result of calling the cops on us was?) but that only raised about half the money and was a significant community effort - it still fucked us financially for months.

if we didn't have musical scene there that was both willing to give financially and do a lot of unpaid organizing relatively quickly, it's likely the ticket would've gone to warrant, which would've probably resulted in criminal charges as it wasn't something we could afford without fundraising. that's permanent record shit. like, potential job denial for the rest of your life and potential current job loss, as the cops will generally stick you in jail for a bit when picking you up on warrant.

and those consequences don't even consider police brutality! like, the pigs only work as "mediators" because of their legitimized threat of violence and you just sent them to go deal with a drunken crowd. that's frankly fucking hopeful that it gets resolved peacefully. they are not effective mediators and it's completely disingenuine to pretend that they are.

i know for a non-zero percent of cop callers, permanently ruining someone's life and/or bringing physical harm to that person is an appropriate punishment for being kept up a bit late on a saturday night (go die in a hole if you think this btw), but for everyone else i'm begging you to understand that a permanent record and getting dragged out of your home and tossed in the drunk tank is the normal expected result of calling of the cops for a noise complaint. you cannot seriously consider doing this to another human being and imo it's even worse that you are doing this to a neighbour.

like brother if it even crosses your mind for a second to call the cops on ANYONE for ANY REASON you are not punk or progressive or whatever label you use to try and feel Cool and Moral. you are a poser and a threat to the vulnerable individuals in your life

[zephyrchama]

You were sick. Your head was in a fog and your throat hurt something fierce. It was sweltering hot yet you shivered under the covers, hoping for the fever to pass soon. Your body, doing its best to get better, decided to empty the contents of your stomach over the side of the bed.

Beelzebub was the first to discover your condition. He came to wake you up in person when you hadn't shown up on time for breakfast. You were teetering like a newborn deer trying to clean up your mess. He was taken aback at the sight, at how clammy you were, and gently wiped the sweat from your face while checking how warm your forehead was. "You should lay down," he recommended, practically pushing you back into bed. You asked him to guide you to the bathroom instead.

He disappeared to fetch Lucifer. The eldest arrived immediately upon being informed of your condition. Your face muscles twitched as you tried to hold back a second round and apologized for the state you were in. Lucifer told you to stay quiet and just rest. "If you want to apologize, then get better soon."

"Don't tell anyone about this, ok?" you tried to ask. It came out as a garbled, barely perceptible whisper sending bolts of pain through your neck. You didn't want anyone to know how bad things really were.

"I do need to inform Diavolo, but rest assured I'll keep it brief." After ensuring you had water and would be fine alone for a few hours, Lucifer left early to inform RAD of your absence. He later texted you, "Don't hesitate to summon me if you need anything."

The house was quiet. It felt surreal to be the only one there. After some time had passed, you hobbled back to your bedroom and tried to sleep through the pain. Blissfully unaware of the chaos occurring elsewhere.

RAD is no small academy by any means, but rumors sure do spread fast. In first period, Beelzebub told Belphegor the sight he witnessed. They were overheard by Asmodeus, who lamented your absence to Solomon. Solomon asked Raphael to come with him to prepare some nutritious human food so you'd recover faster, and had to be forcibly stopped by Simeon. Luke found out by interrogating Solomon about why he was causing a scene in the kitchen.

Mephistopheles caught wind of the gossip and went directly to Diavolo for confirmation. Lucifer was none too happy at the situation, but the rumor mill was already spinning in full force. He did his best to uphold your image by telling anyone who broached the subject, "it's just the sniffles."

By lunchtime, Mammon was taking bets on how sick you were. "500 grimm says they're explodin' from both ends." "If that were the case, one of us would have stayed at the house with them," Satan rebutted, spying an easy win. "500 grimm says it's just coming out the bottom." They went back and forth, with others occasionally chipping in new symptoms such as hives or internal bleeding. Asmodeus, unable to listen any longer, left the cafeteria to post vague stories about his concern for you on social media.

Leviathan and Thirteen sent you get-well-soon text messages. One was full of worry and asked you to respond ASAP so they knew you weren't dying, as anxiety over your condition was causing them no end of fear. The other assured you to rest easy knowing that your candle was fine and you had plenty of time left before you kicked the bucket. It even recommended passing your bug onto someone else for fun.

You only saw the notifications in the evening, when a pounding headache woke you up and resounding footsteps in the hall signaled that people were home from school.

There was a knock at the door and Lucifer announced you had company. The crown prince and his butler imposed with a tray of fresh herbal tea. It would have smelled amazing if you possessed the ability to breathe through your nose. As the door shut behind them, you spotted at least ten figures out in the hallway.

Barbatos silently served you a hot cup, hopeful the rising stream would assist your sinuses. "Looks like you're recovering well!" Diavolo chimed. "That's great. I feared you were going to heave your guts out all day."

The frank sincerity caught you off guard and you choked on your tea. Barbatos was quick to grab the cup before it spilled.

"You knew?" you rasped. "Oh yes. Lucifer said it wasn't that bad, but tales of your illness have spread all over campus. We know human bodies aren't very strong."

You hunched down into the blankets to hide. The heat spreading across your face this time was not due to fever.

[monzterpup]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING

NICE! . . . E.W

summary; baking lessons with ellie get messy!

pairing; baker!ellie x fem!reader

cw; very slight usage of y/n! (i'm sorry). food play. dom!ellie. top!ellie. oral!r (receiving). fingering!r (receiving). mdni.

w/c; 1.4k

a/n; hi cuties! this is kinda uhh horrible! i made this in literally one day bc i wanted to post something for u guys so bad. writers block has been a bitch lately! sorry this isn't dark content and kind of boring :( i promise some is coming soon! this is also a little short so sorry about that too. lowkey expecting this to flop buttt i hope u enjoy it anyways lovelies <3 (not proofread, i apologize if there are any mistakes. eventually, i will go back and edit it but rn i can’t be bothered lol.)

you didn't have a clue about baking. and, this was a real disadvantage to you since one of your friends was having a small get together where all of you were going to bake cupcakes, brownies, cookies, whatever sweets you could think of.

your friends did these every month and you were tired of missing out; miserably tapping through each one of their instagram stories while you sat at home in bed, rotting.

so, you did what any other reasonable person would've done, and you scheduled yourself a baking lesson. just a one on one with you and... and ellie.

ellie was a baker that you found through instagram, who just so happened to live merely 15 minutes away from you.

y/n_l/n: hey! just saw one of your vids, you do lessons right? i was wondering, if we live somewhat close, you could give me one? my friends are having a small bake day this saturday, so it would have to be before then. no pressure, thank you!

after a while of scrolling through your page and, well, maybe getting a little turned on by some of your very-obvious, attention seeking bikini posts-- at least, to her-- she decided that she was going to give you a lesson for free.

ellie.w.bakes: sorry for getting back to you so late. i would love to! thursday, 12:30 sound alright to you? here's my address if you're still interested. [1 attachment: ellie.w.bakes location]

y/n_l/n: yup! i'll be there. also, looks like we only live about 15 minutes away from each other. haha, that worked out. thank you so much!

and you were there; there sitting in your car, 15 minutes early, parked in front of ellie's house, trying to calm yourself down before the lesson. god, why was this making you so nervous all of a sudden? maybe it was the thought of her in an apron, with her hair pulled back, hands kneading the soft, floury dough-- okay, this was getting out of hand.

as you— finally— made your way up to ellie's front door, the spring air delved around your not-so-calm body, but the delicate breeze did help your sweating a little bit.

you knocked on the door, which was painted a nice, light cream color, complimenting the rest of her home.

when ellie opened the door, you froze. she looked exactly how you pictured her. in an apron, hair pulled back... just hot.

you don't know why you froze. it was like you weren't expecting her to actually answer or something. even though you booked this class three days ahead of time.

"y'alright there, angel face? looks like y've seen a ghost. come on in, i promise i don't bite." ellie's words were laced with a crooked grin and a smug tone. they snapped you out of your embarrassingly obvious staring and back into reality.

"right, yes. thank you."

as you made your way through ellie's home, you took note of the the strong vanilla scent, probably coming from the kitchen, which attacked your nostrils immediately. not in a bad way, it wasn't a bad smell. it was just a lot.

ellie's eyes drank your form in as you walked in front of her. one thing she noticed, you definitely didn't edit those instagram posts she was stalking. every single part of your body, head to toe, looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves.

once the two of you made it to the kitchen, ellie sweetly took your purse and coat, hanging them up on a nearby shelf. what a gentlewoman.

your smile was almost as sweet as the cupcakes you were about to make, and ellie couldn't get enough of it. every time you flashed your pearly whites at her, she swore she almost fainted.

and every time ellie's skilled, slim fiingers sunk into the buttery dough to knead it deftly had you biting your lip. this lesson wasn't going well at all. how were you supposed to learn a thing when you were so pathetically distracted by her hands?

maybe it was just you. maybe you were the perverted one for thinking all of this. no, no. she was definitely trying to shove it in your face.

after you finished the lesson and grabbed your purse, you walked over to ellie to thank her and ask how much it was going to cost.

"so, how much will this be? i could venmo, or i have cash--"

ellie cut you off, "don't you worry ‘bout that, sweetie pie. beginner lessons are always free." psh, no they're not.

you gave her a confused tilt of your head. surely that wasn't true. "a-are you sure? it's really no problem, i could just pay you and get it over with."

"i'm serious. plus, i was thinking you could repay me in a different way. i was a pretty swell teacher, wasn't i?"

and this was exactly how you ended up naked, panties down to your ankles, heels kicked off to somewhere else in the kitchen, and whipped cream covering both of your nipples.

ellie’s hungry mouth latched onto one of your cream covered nipples and slurped up every drop of whipped cream like her life depended on it.

your manicured nails dug into the back of her head, forcing her mouth down onto your boob as she sucked and licked all over it.

“ellie, please,” your needy bitching and whining finally reached ellie’s lust filled ears.

“mm?” she hummed in curiosity while lifting her head up. “what is it, doll?”

you huffed in frustration. “y-your fingers. please. fingers, mouth… anything.”

“good girl, telling me what she wants.” ellie reached over on the counter to grab some strawberries that you had just used to bake, then placed them in a neat line leading down to your dripping pussy, which was currently clenching around nothing. cute.

the final cold strawberry was placed on your cunt and you let out a little gasp. it had been ages since someone treated you this good, with so much patience and delicacy.

ellie made intense eye contact with you as she ate her way down to your pussy, her green eyes glaring up into yours with so much hunger, she almost didn’t look like a human, just a starved beast.

when ellie’s tongue reached the final strawberry that was so perfectly placed on top of your aching clit, she took a tiny bite out of it first, then pressed it down with her teeth, the pressure making your clit twitch and throb even more than it already was.

“prettiest pussy i ever seen in m’life. looks so delicious,” and ellie took that seriously. because when she started eating you out, it was like your brain short circuited. she wasn’t afraid to get messy at all. she really treated your cunt like it was the best meal she had ever tasted in her life.

you arched your back up and lifted your hips off of the counter only to buck them towards ellie’s mouth, needing more. “f-fuck, ellie!” strangled moans strung from your throat and echoed throughout the whole kitchen.

ellie kept one thumb rubbing at your clit while she detached her juice covered mouth from your pussy to instead shove two fingers inside of your sopping hole.

“sucking me in so, so good, baby. you got it…” she praised and whispered sweetly as if she didn’t just force two long fingers into your guts.

“ah!” you hissed sharply. the bone and skin of ellie’s fingers stuffed you up just the right amount, not too much, not too little. and she was right, your pussy swallowed up her fingers up fast.

ellie started erratically pumping her digits in and out of your tight, little hole, leaving you rolling your eyes into the back of your head and trying to hump her hand.

“shit, shit, shit! els, g-g’nna cum!”

she gently grabbed your spazzing hips and relaxed them a little. “yeah, that’s good, that’s good. let me see that sweet pussy cum. give it to me, baby.”

and you did. your cum came gushing out of your pussy in hot floods, completely coating and drenching ellie’s wrist in your liquid.

“shit, there you go. look at that.” ellie slowed her fingers down, letting you ride out your orgasm and making sure to milk you dry before finally pulling out.

ellie brought her fingers up to her (already) dripping mouth and licked her fingers clean of your sweet, sweet cum, followed up by a:

“tastes just like vanilla frosting. can y’give me another one before you gotta go, babe?”

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘" 𝐏𝐓 𝟐

read part 1 here!

pairing: kuroo x reader & bokuto x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: hello ahhh it's been awhile since i've posted but i'm trying to get back into the habit of writing again! someone in my inbox had requested me to add bokuto to this list so i tried my best but i hope you all enjoyed this and feel free to stop by my inbox to leave a comment, tell me your thoughts, or just lmk how it's going hehe :,)

kuroo tetsuro

"i'm home," a mumble echoed out into the empty living room.

at the sound of the door opening, you make your way out of your shared bedroom to greet your overworked boyfriend, kuroo.

"hi baby," you replied with a tired smile on your features.

the door closes and kuroo slides off his slacks, loosens his tie, runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs in exhaustion.

"hey."

"have you eaten dinner yet?" you start to ramble. " i can warm up dinner and we could maybe share a meal together?"

"we haven't spent much time together in a while so you know.. i was just thinking... we could do something small together?"

you continue to ramble about how you spent all evening trying a new recipe you saw on tiktok that really fascinated you.

but kuroo is not having it.

all he wants to do is just go to bed and forget the past couple shitty days he's had at work. today, especially, was stressful considering how nothing had gone his way and the higher ups just wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time.

he kept his frustration, tiredness, anger all bottled up for the past couple days and they were all about to boil out.

on top of that, your constant rambling isn't helping. you keep talking and talking and talking and his mind is beginning to get cloudy and his anger is about to boil over.

his voice rises and he finally speaks, "god y/n.. can you just shut the fuck up and stop being all up in my space? you're so fucking clingy just leave me alone."

oh.

you mouth shuts up mid sentence and you're looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye after hearing his true feelings.

"sorry, i just wanted to spend some time and talk and relax with you..." your voice goes quiet. "you've been out really late for the past couple days so i was just hoping-"

however, kuroo's outburst isn't over yet. if anything, your little comment voicing your concerns seems to have make him a bit more upset.

"yeah, i've been out late because of how suffocating it is here at home with you. god, it's like you just can't take a fucking hint! just leave me the fuck alone!" he says and your eyes go a bit glassy.

"r-right," you say as you're turning around so he doesn't see the tears forming in your eyes. "sorry, i'll respect your wishes and give you your space."

seeing your hunched figure walking away brought him back to his senses.

what the fuck did i just say to them? oh my god.

"y/n wait i'm sorry-" he begins but is cut off.

"kuroo, i think you've said enough tonight."

the sound of his last name coming out of your mouth leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he knows he's fucked up immensely. the door to the bedroom closes, indicating that you're clocking out for the night and you can't deal with this conversation any bit longer.

kuroo sits himself on the couch with his head in his hands, shaking his head.

what the hell did i just say to them? it's not even their fault... i just... how the hell do i make it up to them?

kuroo walks to the door and places three subtle knocks on the door, begging for permission to enter. he's greeted with no acknowledgement or response.

he turns the knob and to his surprise it opens. there, he sees you fast alseep in your comforter in a fetal-like position. he goes into the closet, changes into his pajamas, and immediately climbs into bed.

he brings you close to his side of the bed, specifically putting your head on his chest. he begins to stroke your hair and places gentle kisses on your head, mumbling soft "i'm sorry's" and "i love you's."

he's praying to whatever deity out there that this would blow over by tomorrow morning or something.

but kuroo wakes up the next morning to his worst nightmare: you're not in bed with him. he feels his blood run cold and he's running the worst case scenarios in his head.

he rushes out of the bedroom to see that you're nowhere in the apartment. he sees a bright colored post-it note stuck on to the fridge with a note scribbled in your handwriting.

"i'm staying at a friend's house for the next couple of days. i just need time to think for a bit. there's some leftovers from last night in the fridge so make sure you eat those.

love u always, y/n"

kuroo's hands shake as he's holding your post-it note.

of course, they'd leave. i treated them like shit and hurt them so badly of course they want to leave. but even after everything, they still love me… i don’t deserve them.

kuroo begins to spiral and the next couple of days aren't any easy for him.

every attempt at texting or calling you has lead to no response. he goes to sleep without you next to him, holding back tears every time. every morning without fail, he pats the vacancy next to him in hopes that you'll be there but to his demise, every time, you're not. work feels even more lethargic than usual. before, he used to look forward to coming home to you but now you're not even at home so what's the point in even trying. counting down the hours until he gets to leave his cubicle has become futile.

i just really want them back. please come back home.

but when he comes home from a pain achingly long day of work, he doesn't find you and his mood plummets even more.

that is until one day, kuroo is able to leave work early where he comes home and hears the familiar noise of the coffee maker brewing. his eyes shoot up from his slacks to look over at the kitchen where he sees you in all your beauty, fidgeting with the knobs on the coffee machine. your eyes both lock and you immediately look away.

kuroo thought you were gone for good. and the fact that you were only a couple feet away from him made his heart swell and his eyes water. there's so much to say but his not a single word is escaping his mouth.

"you want some coffee? i just started a new batch," you finally say to fill up the silence of the room.

he gulps, "sure yeah."

you grab a coffee cup and pour him a fresh cup of coffee and slide it to him across the kitchen counter, avoiding getting too close to him.

too nervous to even touch his drink, he begins to address the elephant in the room, "y/n, i'm so sorry for what i said that night. i had no right to speak to you in the manner."

"it's okay," you say in a curt manner. "i get it."

he shakes his head and tries to get closer to you to convey his feelings but is stopped when he sees you take a step back. his heart cracks.

"no it's not okay sweetheart. i've been so busy with work and i just got super overwhelmed with everything and-"

"kuroo, you know you don't have to make any excuses right?" you interrupt his train of thought.

he's confused now. "excuses? y/n what are you even talking about- "

"just end it with me already... i know you want to," you say, looking down at the fresh cup of coffee in your hands. "you made that very clear."

his world freezes.

the world becomes completely silent.

his mouth is slightly open, caught off guard. he doesn't know what to say.

however, you interpret his silence as him putting down the excuses finally and admitting that he doesn't want to put effort into this relationship with you anymore.

hell, he doesn’t even want this relationship with you anymore.

"right, if you won't i will so it's easier for the both of us. i think we should-"

"don't you dare finish that fucking sentence," he moves close to you all of a sudden and his familiar lingering cheap cologne smell takes up your senses. the gears begin to click in his head before you can respond to him.

kuroo's arms envelop you in his embrace. "i want you. only you. i'm sorry i made you think otherwise."

the tears you've been holding back for the past couple minutes standing in front of him overflow and you feel like the world is about to end.

you push kuroo off you slightly. "i know you've been busy with work and i just wanted to spend some time with you. i never meant to come off as clingy but clearly you thought so so-"

"i'm just a complete douche,” he interrupts. “you were trying to help me out and make me feel better and i was so caught up with work, i couldn't appreciate that."

"i never want to ever make you feel that way again. you never deserved to hear any of that from me and everything i said couldn't be far from the truth. your presence has never been a bother and if anything, coming home to you is the best part of my day.”

“i shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me and i'm so sorry that it did and that i hurt you in the process. i hate that i’m the reason behind your tears and i’ll do everything to make it up to you to show you how much i love you."

the tears from your eyes continue to flow and he delicately wipes every single one from your eyes kissing your cheek every time without fail.

"are you sure you don’t find me suffocating? you said that you hated being home with me though so i just thought-" you start to say.

"i will spend my entire life reassuring you that it isn’t true. i promise you are never suffocating me and your presence never fails to make me feel better on a shitty day. i will do anything to regain your trust and faith in me,” he adamantly speaks with his hands in yours.

hearing his determined resolve, the tears flow even more.

"i love you so much, tetsu."

"i love you too baby," he smiles and delicately kisses your lips. "now let's go out. how do you feel about going out for dinner? i’ve got a lot of making up to you to do."

"i'll never say no to that."

bokuto koutaro

the msby jackals lost 2-0 sets and the entire team was taking the loss hard but no one as hard as bokuto.

"bokuto-san, what do you think went wrong today's game?" an interviewer asks with his notepad out, scribbling notes.

"er, uh, well, today was just a rough day and i had a tough time keeping up with the opponent's plays today... it just was not a good day."

"i have one more question," the interviewer asks.

"go ahead," he gruffs out.

"you are known for your infamous line shots especially during deciding moments of the game. you missed multiple of these shots during today's game. were you distracted during this game? is it because of your new relationship status or were-"

bokuto is now riled up. who the hell does this interviewer think he is to corner me and bring in my personal life???

"i'm leaving, fuck this shit," he spits out, trying his best to maintain his composure.

in frustration, bokuto storms out of the press conference room, slamming the double doors, heading towards the locker room to grab his stuff but is stopped by you, running after him.

"kou! wait up!" you say from a distance and he stops in his tracks to look at you. he's still internally raging from the provocative behavior of that interviewer and he feels like he just might lose it.

"what do you want," he says in an aggressive manner that catches you off guard.

you’re aware of the recent loss of the msby jackals. you know that's probably taking a toll on his confidence as a player so you're trying to be as supportive as you can.

"you wanna come back to my place? i was thinking we could watch that one disney movie you like and we could bake something together too? what do you think?"

"why do you always want to fucking hang out?" he says in the lowest tone of voice you've ever heard from him.

it sends shivers down your spine.

"huh?" you're just confused at this point.

"why are you so fucking clingy all the time? it's always 'kou come over!' or 'kou let's watch a movie!' or 'kou let's take a nap together!' like don't you fucking get that i have a genuine career that i'm working really hard to be successful in?"

so that's what he thinks of me.

"i know you want to be a pro volleyball player and i want to support you the entire way. i was just trying to be there for you and help you relax..." you trail. "i get today was really rough for you.."

"that's the thing you don't get it, y/n!" he says exasperatedly. "if you did want to be supportive for me and my career, then you would stop being so all up on me and give my space!"

he walks into the locker room, slamming the door, shaking you up.

in defeat, you begin to leave the stadium with tears brimming your eyes. as you get in your car, you put your head on the steering wheel and suddenly, the tears start to stream out.

"i'll give him his space. i'll just stop everything. i'm nothing of importance to him or his life so it's best if i just stop." you convince yourself.

bokuto, on the other hand, is in the locker room, holding back tears of frustration as he punched one of the lockers.

fuck, what am i even doing right now...

"bokuto-san! let's head out for the night," shoyo's voice can be heard before he can be seen in the locker room. "we're gonna go get drinks and dinner at that new barbecue place that opened up."

he looks up from the bench and smiles at shoyo along with the rest of his teammates that are nodding along in support.

"yeah, sure. fine with me," kou responds with a small smile on his face.

as bokuto and the rest of the jackals are out and about, he keeps looking at his phone in hopes of getting a message or something from you but you're completely radio silent after the spat between the two of you.

he knows you both had a disagreement but he thought you knew that he was just frustrated and upset with the game. he didn't think it was a reason to just go silent on him.

he sends a text to test the waters.

kou <3: babe, we're good right?

he puts his phone down and engages back in the dinner with the rest of the jackals.

an hour has passed yet still no response. it's starting to make him fidgety so he decides to spam you.

kou <3: hello?

kou <3: baby wya???

kou <3: where is the loml at :((

kou <3: BABYYYYYYY

kou <3: POOKIE PLS TXT ME BACK :(((

y/n is typing...

y/n: sry i was getting ready for bed.

you sounded distant. you clearly were upset but was it still about the argument? c'mon you knew he didn't mean what he said... right?

kou <3: ITS OKAY BABY! can i come over? i wanna spend the night with u :,)

kou <3: i miss you

y/n: maybe not tonight... i think it's best if we're by ourselves for a bit

bokuto's hair significantly drooped down, seeing as how he got rejected to hang out with you for the night.

as bokuto heads over to his apartment for the night, he stares at the bedroom ceiling with his thoughts. he misses laying next to his baby. that's when he starts to replay everything that went down between the two of you.

he genuinely can't figure out what went wrong.

he prays that this whole thing will just blow over by tomorrow because he misses you incredibly and just wants to spend time with you.

unfortunately to his demise, you kept shutting down all of kou's efforts to come over. you refused to pick up his calls, resorting to half assed texts.

this whole argument was festering and bokuto had to fix it immediately.

you, however, want nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend but his words kept running through your mind on loop. anytime you would be sitting alone with yourself, his words kept playing themselves on loop in your brain, making you overthink the post couple months you’ve spent together.

has he always thought of me as clingy? have i always been a bother to him? have i always been super annoying in his eyes?

that was until you heard a knock on the door.

you open the door and see kou standing there in a hoodie and a pair of khakis with a large bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands. his eyes lock with yours while yours widen in surprise.

"k-kou! what are you doing here?" you say in surprise.

"what, i can't see my partnet now?" he retorts lightheartedly. "let me in."

too stunned to even reject him, your hand inherently finds its way to the knob, widening the door so bokuto can fit through into your apartment.

he tries to hand you the flowers but you stand there, hands refusing to move from their sides. "c'mon babe, i got them for you! do you not like them? man, i knew i should've gotten the roses instead."

"no no! thank you so much kou.. i'm just surprised that you even got this for me..." you trail off looking away from him.

he sets the flowers on the kitchen counter and tilts his head in confusion. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"listen, i know you don't really like spending time with me and that you feel obligated to but honestly, we really don't have to hang out or anything like that," you begin to say. "i know i can be a lot sometimes and i'm really working on trying to give you space."

that's when it all clicks in his head for him.

"baby, is this about what i said that day in the gym?" he questions.

you turn away, refusing to even look him in the eye because you know the moment your eyes lock with his, the tears will start streaming down your face.

"baby, no, please," he goes over to you to give you the warmest yet tightest hug possible. "i’m also a very clingy person so i should've known how much my words must have hurt you. i've been so stupid to not see how badly my words must have impacted you, my love. i'm so so sorry for saying and acting the way i did. it's unexcusable."

"no kou it's fine i just-" you say but are interrupted midsentence.

"no, y/n it's not," he says, tears brimming his eyes ever since coming to terms with how hurt you must've been feeling this entire time. "i'll do anything to get your forgiveness and for us to just... be close again. i'll do anything, i mean it."

tears are streaming down both your faces and you can't help but form a wobbly smile on your lips. "pinky promise?"

"pinky promise," kou says as he locks pinkies with you and kisses the top of your head. "now let's cuddle because i've missed being near the love of my life."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved 

[tbaluver]

hi!! i was wondering if i could ask for some angst with all the guys ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

smthing like mc (gender neutral if possible!) going to a mission and not coming back and the guys' reactions to that ?

ty in advance (≧▽≦)

When You Don't Come Back From Your Mission- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: angst no comfort a/n: hi anonnie! i hope this was okay and that you enjoy ! i'll post a part where mc/ reader comes back from the mission after a long time and maybe that would be a comfort part of this angst reaction (๑>؂•̀๑) i know a couple people from my inbox have requested me to write something about that and i'll get it out soon it's just sitting on my drafts but it'll be out so so soon ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) sorry lovelies i just get distracted a lot any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You and Xavier weren’t assigned to this mission, which was a bummer given how often you two have been always paired for similar tasks. Your extensive training together, countless sparring sessions, and numerous times you two have spent together have created a deep bond and sense of confidence in each other’s skills. Although it was unusual to not be paired in a mission, you both trusted in your abilities and didn’t think much of it.

As he returned from picking up snacks at the convenience store, he walked into the Hunter’s Association office and was struck by the sense of panic that had been overtaken in the room. The frantic energy was evident as he overheard that your team has not given any responses or updates regarding your location. The news hit him like a jolt, nearly causing him to drop the snacks he was holding.

His gentle demeanor shifted to one of deep concern. The usual calmness in his eyes was replaced by a serious and troubled look. His universe felt like it had dimmed, knowing that the brightest star was missing from his grasp.

He demanded immediate access to the latest mission’s location, coordinates, or any relevant information. He insisted that he would take charge of the situation himself and offer no objects as they recognized the intensity in his voice.

He internally blamed himself for not coming sooner. Every path he takes as he travels to find you, only fuels the sense of urgency and concern to find your and ensure your safety.

Zayne:

Zayne has always trusted in your abilities and knew what you were capable of. Each mission, he knew you could handle it with ease and he had faith that you would come back. As always, before he left he would always remind you, “Stay safe and don’t do anything reckless. I don’t want to see you back in my office with another injury.”

Normally, your absences were brief and he would patiently wait for your return, eager to hear the absurd stories of your missions, but this time something felt different. Something he couldn’t quite place. The days dragged on longer than usual and the silence from you was unsettling.

He tried to distract himself with paperwork and tending to patience but his anxiety gnawed at him, thinking of what had happened to you. A mission shouldn’t take this long, especially for someone as skilled as you. 

Every day he would send a text and sometimes they were random. Sometimes they were filled with encouragement or updates about small things in his life, in hopes to get a response from you. However, each message he sent was always left unanswered which fueled his growing concern. He began to doubt if you were ignoring him or if something far worse had happened.

Unable to contain his worry any longer, he drove to your house and knocked on your door unannounced. The minutes stretched into an agonizing wait and when there was no response. His heart that had been warmed by your presence has now gripped by icy fear.

Each day he has desperately waited for any responses and any updates from the Hunter’s Association about your well-being. The longer he had to wait, the more he was determined to join the battlefield himself in desperation to find you again.

Rafayel:

Ever since you departed on your mission, he would be counting the seconds, minutes, and days until your return. It’s something he would usually do when you leave for a mission. Time passed by slowly in your absence and he tried to distract himself by visiting the beach or working on new sketches, hoping to find a spark of inspiration for his next piece. Yet, inspiration was difficult when his greatest muse was missing for a few days

A few days. What began to be a few days stretched into a week and more. His concern grew as your silence and absence in his life persisted. Normally, you would have responded to any of his texts or calls even amid the chaos of your missions. But now, this mission was different. His phone never lit up from any notifications from you and your absence gnawed at him.

His distress was evident. His meticulously groomed appearance had unraveled. His hair was disheveled and his outfits mismatched. The studio that was usually a bright haven of creativity had become a reflection of his inner turmoil. The room was shrouded in shadows, and canvases were marred with erratic splashes of paint and frustrated strokes.

'Missing you comes in waves and tonight I am drowning.'

He was spiraling and grew relentless, digging up any lead and rumor of information about your mission. Whatever happened to you, someone was going to pay. He doesn’t care if the bounty on his head catches up to him. He’ll try to find you no matter what, even if it takes him another 800 years.

Sylus:

He knew you were a skilled Hunter so initially he dismissed your absence as just another routine mission. He assumed he would see you again soon in a couple of days and began making plans for the two of you to relax and enjoy when you returned.

However as days turned into a week without any responses to his text or voice messages, his calm demeanor began to crumble. Your status on DeepSpace hadn’t been updated since the last time you had talked and it never showed that you read his messages. His unease deepened when Mephisto reported that he had been unable to locate you.

The growing anxiety and frustrations were impossible for him to contain. He had tried to rush to the location of your mission only to find no trace of you there. His office became a battleground of his conflicted emotions. He cursed himself for being so careless about you.

Luke and Kieran could only witness the storm of anger and worry from a distance. They dared not to approach him during the moments of his intense agitation. They understand as they miss you as well but they could only wish they could do so much to help find you.

He figures he has to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost. Your little Hunter’s Association could only do so much but many do not understand how much power, influence, and resources Sylus has at his disposal. He doesn’t care if he has to get his hands dirty, he will have to do anything to find his little dove back in his arms again.

[abbyandersxnswife]

Look for the Light ── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Canon Abby! x reader; apocalypse au!

Synopsis: You and Abby used to be best friends back in the Fireflies, but after her trip to Jackson, she makes it clear she no longer wants to be friends. If anything, she doesn't seem to even like you anymore. However, her actions keep stating otherwise...

Warnings for; Smut, switch Abby! Follows timeline of TLOU2

Word count: 3.9k

✦ ───────────────────── ✦

You didn't know Abby Anderson.

At least, not anymore.

Now she was just Issac's top Scar killer, another soldier in the WLF, another person like any other.

You arrived at Soundview Stadium a few months ago with a few other WLF soldiers, your patrol unit finally moving in after guarding a post near the Seraphites Island.

You still remembered the day you first ran into Abby again, surprised to see her returning from the lodge up in Jackson.

You didn't know how high she had climbed in the ranks with Issac then, all you knew then was that your old best friend was standing in front of you, walking with Owen and Mel- and you nearly knocked her over when you ran to give her a hug, burying your face in the crook of her neck, never so glad to smell the familiar scent of pine and vanilla. Abby had been strangely stiff, patting you awkwardly on the back like you hadn't spent nearly two years with her in the Fireflies.

Seeing her gave you hope, hope that you two could talk and make up for lost time, finally have some companionship- but that hope was quickly dashed when Abby made it clear to you that she didn't want that at all.

She had said it later on when you two were alone, your things finally unpacked in the tiny room. You had tried to ask her how she was doing, how Jackson went, if she was alright, but it all fell on deaf ears.

"Listen y/n..."

Abby had said, pausing for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck. It was as if she knew this wasn't a good idea, that the next words were words she couldn't take back.

"I don't think we should be friends, I know we used to be but that was a long time ago- I'm just not the person you used to know."

You had been hurt then, hoping she'd give you more of a reason, but Abby was silent, her once bright blue eyes cold and dim.

If Abby Anderson no longer wanted to be friends, if she wanted to pass by you in the hall like you didn't once know every detail about each other - fine.

Fine by you.

-

"Y/n?"

You opened your eyes groggily and opened the door to see Nora standing in the threshold.

"Hey, Issac wants you to report to him- says he's got the details for your latest mission"

You smiled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Thanks, Nora, I'll be there in a sec"

You threw on some clothes before heading out, making your way up to Issac's office.

"Hey-"

You pushed open the door and saw Abby, Manny, and Issac already waiting for you, and felt your heart drop into your stomach at the sight of her.

"Ahhh, y/n there you are, now we can get started. A rogue group of Seraphites attacked a patrol yesterday down by the Eastbrook area- I want you guys to go in and sweep to make sure they're all gone. Bring any supplies you find back." Issac pointed to the map on the table for emphasis.

"Y/n, I know you haven't been on a mission with these two before but trust me, they're good. I can get your old crew for a different mission another time"

"No problem Issac, I can work with anyone"

"Great," Issac said before continuing, "When you return, we'll start drafting our plans to invade the Seraphites' Island, we can take the boats and see if we can defeat them on home territory."

Your gaze immediately darted to Abby, wondering what she thought of the news, but she only stared stubbornly ahead.

"Grab something to eat and then head out, take the truck, Manny."

"Alright, let's go guys"

Manny left, and you watched Abby leave as well, trailing behind them, sighing inwardly at the day ahead of you. Today's mission was gonna be a long one.

-

"The Seraphites have been growing bold lately"

Manny broke the silence, seemingly oblivious to the tension that lay between you and Abby.

The back of the truck was snug, Manny and Abby on one side, you on the other. Abby was looking anywhere but your face it seemed, and you sat there quietly, pretending like you weren't sneaking glances whenever you got the chance. After all, this was the closest you had been to her in years.

To be fair, you both equally avoided each other at base- she didn't want anything to do with you, so why would you bother with her?

"Yeah well they broke the treaty, if any of them are at Eastbrook we wipe the site and leave"

The air is chilly when you step out, you adjust your jacket and flip the safety off your gun.

"School looks deserted, but best if we just do a patrol of the site just to be sure. Abby, go with her, patrol the inside, I'll do a grounds check first"

Manny walks off, gun in hand, already entering an old school bus parked in front of the school.

"Come on" Abby says, and you follow her as she prys open the front door.

The interior of the school is a mess, the wallpaper of the walls peeling, desks pushed half hazardly into the hall. Sad shreds of streamers hang from the ceiling, every window smashed, the shards glistening on the floor.

You enter a classroom, pushing the door open with your gun.

Your eyes light up at the greenery inside, the schooldesks covered in a bed of moss, ivy hanging from holes in the ceiling.

"It's beautiful-" You say to yourself, bending down to pick up the remainders of the kids' drawings on the ground. You examine one, it's a picture of a house with what looks to be a horse-

"Can you stay focused? We're supposed to be looking for supplies"

Abby's voice cuts sharply through the silence, the only sound the rifling she's causing by searching through the desks.

You sigh and help her, retrieving a roll of bandages and a few packs of old batteries before moving onto the next room.

Abby finds the cafeteria at the end of the hall, and the old shelves of the cafeteria pantry prove to be quite sparse, with nothing but some old bean cans that Abby takes anyway. She's still acting like you don't exist, so you've got a whole lot of time to examine your surroundings.

You hear a creak while searching through the cupboards and pause, listening for footsteps.

"Do you mind moving a little quicker? Maybe your old patrol did things slower, but I'd like to get back to base sometime soo-"

"Shut up!" You whisper harshly, cutting her off.

Abby looks offended, finally training her gaze on yours, but your eyes dart away to the doors of the cafeteria.

"What?"

Abby asks, watching you.

You hear it again, a second creak. You push Abby up against the wall by the lapels of her jacket, her blue eyes wide with surprise. Her gaze darts down to your lips for a second before her arms come up to pull yours off.

"Woah y/n- what are you-"

A loud bang interrupts Abby's next words, the double wooden doors of the cafeteria slamming open as five Seraphites rush in.

"Seraphites!" You yell, dragging Abby down with you to avoid the gunfire.

Abby breaks out of your hold, punching the nearest Seraphite in the face as you shoot the second. The third Seraphite comes running at you, tackling you to the ground, slamming your wrist against the concrete floor. A sharp pain runs through your arm, and you watch as he kicks your gun out of reach. You grapple on the floor together, kicking as he attempts to strangle you, worried about Abby- before a loud gunshot rings out and the Seraphite's body slumps over you.

Abby stands over you, one hand extended. You take it.

The other two Seraphites lay dead on the ground, bodies riddled with bullets. You brush yourself off, but the ache in your arm is making itself more evident.

"Thanks"

Abby hands you your gun but her brows furrow at the way you cradle your left arm gingerly.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

You feign nonchalance as best you can.

"Yeah.. but my arm might not be"

Abby hesitates for a moment, but reaches out and examines your arm. Her touch is soft, a strange contrast to the stoic way she's been acting this whole mission.

"I think medical should check you out" Abby says, clearing her throat. "Come on we should head back to the truck."

Abby steps back and pushes open the doors. You follow her out.

-

Medical let you go with a brace for the minor fraction on your left arm. You felt miserable, first mission back in the field and injured- you wouldn't be cleared to go on another for at least another few weeks.

You sat slumped against a bookshelf in the library, half hazardly reading "City of Thieves" by David Benioff, ignoring the dull ache in your arm. You'd been doing this for at least a week now, hiding out from prying eyes.

"Y/n?"

Your eyebrows raised at the sound of Abby's voice, and even further when she came over, standing awkwardly in front of you.

"How's your arm?"

Abby asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"It's fine, I guess," You replied. "Just reading to pass the time. Medical ordered I "take it easy" for the next two weeks." You rolled your eyes at the last part. The corners of Abby's mouth twitched, as if she was holding back a smile, but you were sure it was a trick of the light.

"That sucks.. what are you reading?"

Much to your surprise, Abby sat down next to you, one muscular arm reaching over your lap to grab your book.

"Hey, City of the Thieves? I'm reading this one right now- no spoilers"

She held up a finger in warning, and you smiled at her attempt to joke.

"Yeah, yeah" You waved her away.

A beat of silence stretches between you, and you work up the courage to break it.

"So.. what did you come here for? We both know it wasn't just to talk about books"

"I.." Abby looked at the floor, picking at the fabric below. "I wanted to apologize for what I said a few months ago.. and how I've been treating you ever since. I'm sorry"

Abby stops to look up at you, and you take the opportunity to study her. Her cheekbones are a little sharper. There's a healing cut across her cheek that hadn't been there before. Her rosy cheeks, full lips, and clear blue eyes- they're the same.

She's still your Abby, somewhere.

But the hurt you felt then, the lack of company you've had, the loneliness you've felt? It's also there, somewhere.

"Why'd you do it then?"

You ask, and Abby's eyes drop back to the floor. She's silent for so long you're sure she's going to just leave, but she answers.

"I thought I'd feel better after I found the guy who killed my dad in Jackson... but, I don't."

You inhale at her admission, eyes searching for hers as she meets your gaze. The softness she finds in yours prompt her to press on,

"I feel like nothing makes me happy anymore, I still wake up every night from reoccuring nightmares about him- and I've pushed a lot of people away because of how angry I feel. Angry that he's left me, angry that killing the one guy I trained for 4 years to fight to avenge him didn't make me feel better, angry that I've fucked up in every relationship with anyone I care about because of it-"

Abby runs her hands through her hair, smoothing down the stray strands of hair in her braid.

"Y/n, I pushed you away because I care about you. I was being fucking stupid back then- and every time after. I wanted to be near you so much but I felt like I didn't deserve it. I'm not a good person. You deserve someone better than me"

Abby hung her head and stood up, ready to accept whatever you had to say.

"That's up to me to decide Abs."

You said softly, and Abby looked up in surprise. She felt both shock and happiness when you hugged her, and for a second she stood still. Was she allowed to have this? To have you, even for a moment?

Abby hesitated for a moment, before burying her face in your hair, pressing you closer to her.

She never wanted to lose you again.

-

The next few weeks passed by in a blur, your arm healing up just fine. You and Abby spent a lot of time together- eating together in mess hall, going for walks around the crop fields- she helped keep your mind off the itch you felt to get back out.

Lately though, Abby had been acting a little strange, spending more time in the gym, off walking Alice or talking to Manny more than she usually did. You assumed it was nothing though, after all, what else could it be?

"Did you hear? Issac's gonna do a large-scale attack on the Seraphites Island, Manny and Abby got instructed to lead the assault with their chosen squads."

You overhear Nora talking to Mel on your way to mess hall, and your eyebrows furrow. You remember Issac talking about invading the Seraphites back when, but Abby hasn't mentioned it to you at all. Before you have more time to think about it further, Abby arrives and hands you a still warm burrito.

"Hey y/n, brought you breakfast"

Abby smiles at you, and you smile back despite the worry at the back of your mind. She would tell you, wouldn't she?

"Wanna go for a walk?" Abby asks, but you shake your head. You're due for a visit to Medical- you hadn't been needing your arm brace and was sure that with a medical note Issac would dispatch you to assignments again.

The Medical Bay turned out to be quite empty, so you're out with the note clutched in your hand in no time.

You head up to Issac's, past the cells holding Seraphites, and knocked politely on the interrogation door. Issac emerged a dew seconds later.

"Y/n? Oh, a medical note"

While Issac read, you inquired about the rumor you'd heard at breakfast, trying your best to seem casual.

"Abby and Manny are leading the squads in the assault on Seraphites Island right? Would I be able to join them?"

Issac looked surprised,

"You'd have to ask them, they get first pick of who they'd like, then I'll form the rest of the squadrons. Why don't you talk to Abby? I'm surprised she didn't ask you already, I told her about it weeks ago."

Issac's words ring in your ears as you make your way down to Abby's room. You knock on her door for a second before you burst in.

Abby's shirt is off, her dark grey tank laid out on the bed. She's in the middle of drying her wet hair when she sees you come in. You can't help but stare- at her abs, at her white bra, at her unbuttoned dark green cargo pants- and ignore the flutter in your stomach.

You wrench your gaze away.

"Y/n?! What's wrong?"

Abby moves towards you, but you put a hand out. Her cheeks flush when she realizes what she's wearing, or the lack thereof, and bends down to grab her shirt.

"I got cleared from Medical! And uh.. Issac told me you and Manny are leading squads for the invasion against the Seraphites?"

You say, addressing the ceiling.

"Oh.." Abby says, trailing off. She slips on her tank top, stalling.

"I.. I only just found out," Abby lies, "I haven't decided who I want for the squadron yet-"

"You just found out?" You say, angry at her blatant lie. "Don't lie, I know Issac asked you weeks ago"

Abby's tone is defensive,

"Did you ask him behind my back?"

"When were you planning to tell me?" You shoot back, "Were you planning to tell me?"

Abby backtracks at your words, rambling. Her hands raise, like she's guilty of a crime.

"I was- I swear I was, I would have asked you to be on the squadron but your arm was still healing and-"

"Why didn't you just tell me? Forget picking me to be on your squadron, I don't care about that- were you just gonna leave and not tell me? Let me wonder if you fucking died or not?"

Abby's eyebrows raise in alarm, realizing her misstep at identifying what was making you so upset. She sits down, wiping her sweaty hands on her cargos.

"No- y/n, I promise I would have told you, I just didn't want to ruin the peace we were building- and honestly I'm sure I'll be fine, I've done tons of patrols-"

You shake your head-

"Be honest. This is just another way of pushing me away, isn't it? Have you been having nightmares again? Why can't you just be honest with me, what's going on?"

Abby's face breaks, the flicker of conflicting emotions clear to you for a moment. She warrs against touching you, but loses the internal battle. She pulls you closer to her position sitting on the edge of the bed, hands caressing the back of your thighs, unsure of if it's reassuring you or her.

"The nightmares... they never stopped." Abby takes a breath before continuing, "And.. Owen's missing, his patrol partner Danny was found dead," Abby explains, "I keep pushing you away because it hurts that I might lose you. What if Owen's dead? What if that was you next? I don't want to lose you."

Your eyes soften at her words,

"Abs, I'm sure Issac's got people out looking for Owen... and you won't lose me. I may not be as seasoned as you are, but I held my own just fine at the Seraphite outpost for months. Besides, if I go with you, you'll be there to watch my back."

You reach out and cradle her face, stepping a little closer, now stood directly between her legs.

Abby hugged you around the waist, hiding her face in your sweater, voice a little muffled.

"Issac said Owen is a traitor- that he killed Danny to protect.. a Seraphite. I told him it wasn't true, that there was no way he'd do that, that if I could just look for him I'd bring him back- but Issac refused. He wouldn't let me look for him."

Abby looks up at you, a mixture of grief and worry plain on her face. A stray tear rolls down her cheek and you brush it away.

"You're all I have left y/n." Abby whispers.

You crumble like putty in her hands, biting your plush lip as you look at her. Abby felt like she was going to explode.

This whole time, Abby's thought the way she felt about you was one-sided. Even when she was busy pretending to no longer care about you, even when she was staring straight head walking past you in the halls, even that damn school during your first mission together- a bit of her always longed for you.

She had tried to chalk it up to the fact she missed her best friend over the years, that she had a stupid girl crush in her teens, but these past few weeks only served to prove her wrong.

So, when you lean into her, Abby can't resist. She feels like she's lost everything- her dad, Owen- and you're all she has left. Can anyone blame her for acting on what she wants, just once?

Abby pulls you into her lap just as your lips crash into hers, both of you reaching for the other.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you kiss Abby, her large hands gently pressing you closer at the small of your back, and your hands tangle in her hair.

You can't get enough of her, hands pulling up her shirt, running your fingertips over her midriff as she shivers at your touch.

"Y/n? We don't have to do anything if you don't want to-"

You cut Abby off with a firm kiss as you push her over.

"Abs, I want to. I want you"

Abby grins at your words, and pulls you down into her for another kiss. Her hands guide your hips as you grind down on her, moaning into her mouth.

Abby thinks this is the closest she'll get to heaven, and flips you both over, her body pressed up against yours.

"I'm glad- I've wanted you for so long" Abby says, kissing down your neck, moving your shirt aside for easier access. You moan as she leaves hickies on your chest, her hands already undoing your pants, fingers dipping down into you.

"Oh baby, you're so wet for me"

Abby's voice is huskier than you've ever heard it, and you feel yourself get even wetter at her words. She rubs your clit with her thumb as she slips two fingers in, fucking you at a quick pace.

"Abs-" You choke out, hands reaching for her.

Abby smiles, love clear on her face.

"You sound so pretty y/n"

You pull at Abby's hair and she sucks at your nipples as she fucks you. You're sure there will be hickies all your neck come tomorrow.

"Fuck, Abs I'm gonna-"

"Come for me"

You come, shaking in her arms. Abby sucks her fingers clean, grinning at the brilliant shade of red you turn in response. You pull her in for another kiss before murmuring,

"Your turn"

Abby sheds her cargos, climbing back onto the bed. You slide your fingers through her wet folds, eliciting a sigh from her as you sink two fingers in, curling them to hit her gspot. You're maintaining a regular pace when Abby speaks up,

"That feels so good- but can you add another?"

You blink, but smirk as you obey her request. You speed up your pace, three fingers disappearing in her dripping cunt quickly, Abby's whimpers growing louder with every thrust.

"Fuck- y/n, I'm gonna come-"

Abby whimpers as she comes, growing tight around your fingers as she grips the headboard above your head.

You smile at her, sucking your fingers as payback for her earlier stunt, and she just laughs, rich and warm.

"I'm glad we both feel the same way about each other" Abby says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I think we always have" You admit, hands cradling her face before drawing her in for another kiss. Abby's eyes are relaxed, her grin wide. You continue, smiling softly-

"You won't lose me, Abs. You never have, and you never will."

✦ ─────────────────────────── ✦

[k1ng-ej]

Shadow the Hedgehog X Reader

A valentine's confession

Note: first time writing for this silly guy, expect more vday related posts. i might open requests again soon, ive been in a depression episode for a hot minute now so this is the first thing ive written in a few days, i love him so much. Requests for him are open!

Shadow stood at your front door, hesitating to knock. For months you had enthusiastically shared your excitement for Valentine's day, mentioning it daily. During this time, Shadow wrested with his feelings. Each time you appeared with that radiant smile, he felt a spark in his chest that drew him closer to you than anyone else. He found himself paying more attention to your words and frequently caught himself admiring you from afar. Yet, he couldn't quite place his finger on what this feeling was, or, he was just in denial about them. As Valentine's day approached, with the sun dipping below the horizon, Shadow couldn't shake the worry of your absence. After all the excitement you had generated around this day, you had vanished just when it finally arrived. He asked others where you were, but no one knew

Finally, with a long sigh, he drew three sharp knocks to your door. He could hear muffled groans, a few clattering sounds, some muttered curses, and finally the unmistakable sound of locks turning as you opened your door. Instantly, he took in your disheveled state: the dullness in your eyes, the tangled mess of your hair, and the wrinkled clothes that suggested a sleepless night. You sniffled, surprise flashing across your face.

"Shadow! What's up? Did you need somethin'?" You asked, leaning against the door-frame. Shadow quickly realized that you were sick, and that was why you were cooped up in your house all day.

"Do you have a cold?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Unfortunately came down with it last night and, man, this is a rough one. Usually a little cold doesn't keep me in bed all day but this one sure did!" You explained, your voice was hoarse, no doubt from all the coughing you were probably doing.

Shadow quirked an eyebrow at you. "Have you been taking medication?"

From the way you immediately broke eye contact and started fumbling over your words, he knew that was a no. You always were stubborn. He sighed and shook his head at you, and he noted the way you tensed up. Did you think he was angry?

"It'll help you get over it faster."

"That's the thing… I- Er- I don't have any medicine for it right now and I've been too sick to go out and get some." You frowned, running a hand through your hair to smooth it down.

"I'll get you some. Go rest. Leave the door unlocked, I'll be back." He swiftly spun on his heel, you tried to stop him, but before you could even get a word out he used Chaos Control. Shadow told himself that he was simply doing what any other mobian would do if someone they knew was sick, and this wasn't him caring about your well-being. The more he tried to bury and deny his feelings, the more they grew. Deep down, he knew what he was feeling, but he had never felt this way toward anyone and so he wasn't sure what he should do. The thought of letting someone inside of the walls that he so strongly built around himself scared him, the idea of being vulnerable made his chest tight.

Without hesitation, he swiftly collected medicine for your cold and picked up a couple of soups, hoping they would soothe your sore throat. After completing the purchase, he returned to your front door and opened it without a second thought. This was Shadow's first time inside your home, and he took a moment to absorb the surroundings. It was clear you appreciated a cozy living environment; a few plants decorated the windows in both your kitchen and living room. Your minimalistic decor showcased an eye for style, and the space was impeccably tidy. After mentally mapping out your home's layout, Shadow stepped into the kitchen and placed the bag of supplies on the counter. He then retrieved the medicine, quickly checking the recommended dosage before filling a glass with water. He paused, surely you could do this yourself right?

He shook his head, he wanted to take care of you. He was coming to terms with that.

Slowly, he approached your bedroom door, pills and water in hand. He knocked, he heard your muffled voice allow him entrance. Upon entering, he blinked, taking in the mess of your room. It was a stark contrast to how organized and clean the rest of your house was. Laundry was strewn about, a couple used tissues laid next to the full mini trash can next to your bed, some blankets and pillows thrown on the floor.

"Sorry for the mess… Haven't had the energy to clean up." You scratched your head, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it." Shadow simply shook his head and stood next to your bed where you laid. He placed the glass of water on your bedside table, then held out his gloved hand, two pills sitting in his palm. You promptly sat up, and he watched you swallow the pills quickly, a look of disgust on your face afterward. He assumed you weren't the biggest fan of pills. Shadow took another look around your room, he felt a pull to clean up for you.

Taking care of others would normally irritate Shadow, but when it came to you he felt naturally inclined to do so. You were the first one he would run to on the field, the first one he would ask if you were okay. There was no denying the feelings he had developed for you, but he was scared of them.

"Shadow, you okay?" The sound of your voice, and the feeling of your warm hand on his shoulder brought him from his thoughts. When you retracted your hand, he couldn't help but miss the warmth is provided.

"Would you like if I tidied up for you?"

His question definitely shocked you, and you were quick to decline. Despite Shadow asking, he was not taking no for an answer. He huffed air through his nose as he reached over you and grabbed your TV remote, quickly putting something on for you to watch while he began cleaning. The mess did not bother him, he was quite an organized hedgehog himself and liked his belongings in order. Judging from the rest of your house, you were similar, and he knew the mess probably bothered you. He started by picking up all the laundry on the floor, throwing it into the basket that sat in the corner of your room, then put your bedding back onto your bed, and finally picked up the pieces of trash that laid about. Thankfully, the movie he had randomly chosen for you kept you entertained, and not protesting his offer to clean for you.

He threw the load of laundry into the washer, then came back to your bedroom to check on you.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, standing next to your bed with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't know if it was intentional, but you stared at him for a solid minute, he grew nervous under your gaze, his heart rate picked up.

"Hm, I guess I could go for some food." You shrugged, starting to swing your legs off the bed.

"What are you doing?"

You paused, clearing your throat. "Going to make food?"

You watched Shadows expression change from confusion to annoyance, had you said something? Was he annoyed because he was taking care of you? You didn't know, but you felt tense under his narrowed gaze.

"I can make it for you. You need to rest." His tone came out harsh, but there was a hint of care laced somewhere. Shadow always wore a grumpy facade, making it difficult to discern when he was genuinely upset. However, as you spent more time with him, you began to notice the subtle nuances in his behavior that others overlooked. It was unclear whether he was aware of it, but he frequently reached out to those he cared about. You had witnessed him do this with you several times, and each instance sent a rush of butterflies through your stomach. While Shadow showed concern for others, including Sonic, it was evident that his attention toward you was different. The depth of his care ignited feelings within you that you couldn't ignore.

You had planned your Valentines perfectly, you were going to wake up early this morning, run out and grab a few cheesy gifts, and present them to Shadow in private, asking if he would be your valentine. It was a bold move, really, but you couldn't dance around your feelings forever. So when you came down with your cold, you were bummed. You didn't expect Shadow to come and check on you, but you had to admit it made you feel warm inside.

You stood from your bed and padded out into the living room, Shadow was in the kitchen, stirring your noodles until he heard your footsteps behind him. He swiftly turned around, creasing his eyebrows.

"Relax! I'm okay, I need to stretch my legs, I've been laying down for hours." You held your hands up in mock surrender, waiting for him to start scolding you for not resting. Instead, a long sigh escaped his lips.

"Fine. But when your food is done you're sitting on the couch." He said sternly, eyeing you until you nodded in agreement.

You leaned against the counter, eyeing the pot of noodles on your stove. You didn't have an appetite for anything, but you knew trying to eat something was better than not eating at all. Shadow stood just in front of the stove, his gaze was fixed on the pot, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

"Hey Shadow?" You called, the words leaving your lips before you could think. "Can I… Confess something?"

He blinked and turned to meet your gaze. In that moment, you felt incredibly small beneath his intense stare, your nerves overwhelming as you struggled to meet his crimson eyes. Uncertain of why you found your voice, you had no idea how to articulate your next thought. You had been waiting for Valentine's Day to confess your feelings to Shadow, and you refused to let anything, especially the cold, deter you— especially not with him right in front of you, an opportunity life had presented. Your heart raced wildly against your chest, a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

You inhaled deeply. "I, uh, originally had some special plans for today. Since it is Valentines and all. Er… plans for a special someone, someone that I like."

Shadows brows raised, and for a brief moment you saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

"He's… complicated to understand." You continued, "He doesn't let anyone close emotionally, and he puts on this tough front but deep down he has a soft, and caring heart. I had the perfect day planned, I was going to buy flowers, and a candy I think he might like, and then… I was going to take him to a little secluded area, give him the gifts and confess my feelings. But then I got this stupid cold!" You sighed and pushed yourself off the counter, you pinched the bridge of your nose, a blush creeping up on your cheeks. You knew Shadow was smart, he could figure out you were talking about him, but you wanted to tell him directly that you liked him.

"It's you. I had that planned for you, because I like you." You finished, shyly looking at him and awaiting his reaction.

First, he was shocked, then confused, then a look of… relief? And finally, he exhaled.

"The feelings are… mutual." Shadow ran a nervous hand through his quills, and he looked away from you. You found it cute how he, The Ultimate Lifeform, was getting shy while confessing his crush on you. You couldn't help but giggle, and his eyes quickly snapped back to you.

"What's so funny?" His brows furrowed, replacing the relaxed expression he had just seconds before. You reached out, placing your hand on his shoulder. He looked at your hand, then to you as you spoke.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just… I was expecting a rejection, or something along those lines. But, it's nice to know the feelings are reciprocated."

Heat rushed to his cheeks, and Shadow quickly regained his composure, turning back to the stove to finish preparing your soup. He couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze; his heart raced so wildly that he feared you might hear it too.

Despite his efforts to look away, your hand remained on his shoulder, providing a comforting presence he desperately needed. He was taken aback by your openness about your feelings; he never expected you to harbor such emotions for him. Relief mingled with nervousness and fear; acknowledging that you both liked each other led him to question the next steps toward a relationship. Did he truly want to pursue this? Could he offer you the support and care you deserved? Was he the right partner for you?

Communication was not his strong suit; he was accustomed to keeping everything bottled up inside. He worried that his tendency to be distant might push you away, and self-doubt clouded his mind, leaving him frustrated with himself. Yet, when he glanced at you again and caught the twinkle in your eye, the rosy blush on your cheeks, and the smile dancing on your lips, all those uncertainties faded away.

He followed you into the living room and sat next to you on the couch, he watched you slowly eat your soup, he could tell that you instantly felt relief in your throat, a satisfied hum rumbling in your chest. Even while sick, he looked at you with awe. Shadow always appreciated your looks, specifically your face. Whenever you smiled at him, his heart fluttered. The feeling was foreign, and when it first started he thought he was sick.

"This is good," You broke the silence, bowl resting in your lap. Shadow had positioned himself on the other end of the couch, you chuckled. "I don't bite. C'mon, sit next to me."

Despite how bold and straightforward you were being, anxiety swirled in your stomach. You knew Shadow would not make any first moves or initiate anything, whether it was because he didn't want to cross boundaries, or was too scared, you didn't mind. You watched him slowly scoot to the spot next to you, it made you smile. You put a show on the TV, and indulged in the soup he made for you. You didn't know what came after confessing your feelings for each other, but you were sure you could worry about that another time. For now, you wanted to relax, and enjoy the company you had while you were sick.

You placed your now empty bowl on the small table in front of the couch before leaning back. You thought for a moment, then leaned your shoulder against Shadows. He stiffened, not expecting the sudden contact, and unsure what to do. You stayed like that, and eventually you felt him relax, and heard a content sigh come from him.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I Find Myself Back At Your Door

So thanks to some lovely babes on a server I'm in, I wrote this after 809, because fuck it, I just want these two back together. It's only 4k words, so I'll post it all here. Or you can read it over here on AO3. Spoilers for the episode, it takes place a few weeks after and we'll just assume everything is settled with...everything. But it's based around a misunderstanding at the beginning.

It’s late, it’s raining, and Tommy has been sitting in his truck and staring up at the building for a while. He rubs his hand over the stubble he’s accumulated in the last several days, having lapsed on self-care again. He’s been going through cycles of being alright and being severely depressed over and over again ever since the last time he was here.

“Fuck it,” he says, opening the door and going inside.

He’s not wearing a jacket, because it hadn’t been raining when he’d left the bar. He hadn’t even had anything to drink, he’d just sat at the end of the bar and blankly watched a reairing of a UFC fight while he got through all of a half a beer. Then he’d heard someone laugh, and it had sounded enough like him that Tommy had whipped his head around. The guy at the pool table with his friends had looked nothing like Evan—he was short and whip-thin with dark hair—but Tommy had settled his tab and left immediately.

Instead of going home or to a different bar or to Sal’s, he came here. And now he’s shivering in the elevator with his shirt plastered to his skin. When he raises his hand to knock on the door, he waits and realizes he didn’t see the Jeep in its usual spot. His heart sinks, and he scrubs a hand across his face, cursing himself for being so stupidly optimistic.

But then he hears footsteps, and the door opens and Tommy wants to leave. Another man is answering Evan’s door late at night, and he looks pleasant and handsome and comfortable in his pajamas. “S-sorry,” Tommy says, backing up from the door. “I, uh, I think I have the wrong—sorry.”

The guy looks over his shoulder, and Tommy wants to throw up. He’s going to bolt if Evan appears over the guy’s shoulder.

“No, it’s cool,” the guy says, blinking slowly at him, and Tommy’s pretty sure he’s a little high. “Are you looking for the guy who used to live here?”

Tommy blinks. “Used to? Evan Buckley doesn’t live here anymore?”

“No, I just got this place,” he says. “Just got the keys a couple weeks ago. I think the landlord’s got a forwarding address for the guy, but he said something about Texas? I’m not really sure, honestly.”

The air freezes in Tommy’s lungs.

Texas.

Evan’s in Texas.

“Th-thanks,” he says softly, turning and walking toward the stairs. He can’t be in an elevator right now. The idea of a confined space is making him dizzy. The stairwell isn’t much better, but at least he’s not just standing still in a box.

When he gets to his truck, he presses his face into his hands and screams. He beats his hands against his steering wheel and sobs and wraps his arms around himself and wants to be anywhere but here. He wants to be somewhere else, months ago, he wants to fix this.

By the time he turns the truck on, he feels hollowed out and numb. It’s not all that different from the last time he drove away.

He drives aimlessly until he’s pretty sure he’s in an area of Los Angeles he’s never seen before. His gas light is on, and he needs to sleep at some point.

Texas.

He doesn’t know why. The only tie Evan has to Texas is Christopher, but Christopher is with his grandparents. Unless Eddie moved and Evan moved with him.

He’d asked Eddie while they were waiting for an x-ray on his ankle if he and Evan had ever been a thing. Eddie had made a hilarious series of alarmed faces before settling on mild disgust and saying it would be like getting with his brother. Besides, he was straight. Maybe that hadn’t been the case. Or maybe Evan had just wanted a change of pace and scenery and following his best friend to Texas had been the answer.

Regardless, Tommy feels like his heart’s imploding. It’s just collapsing in on itself in his chest, and it’ll take the rest with it and soon there will be nothing left of him. Because rather than talk or clarify anything, he’d walked out of Evan’s life and lost him.

There had been so many times in the last few months in which he’d almost texted him. Sometimes it was to ask him if he wanted to talk, sometimes it was to beg for forgiveness, sometimes it was because he was sad or drunk or horny. No matter what, he’d felt compelled to open their text thread and type and delete and type and delete, to reach out and tell Evan that he was wrong to admire someone who had spent the better part of his life being a coward who hated himself. Sometimes he was mad, because he hated feeling like he was being propped up on some gay pedestal. He just wanted to be a real person.

Mostly, though, he had just missed him. He loves him. God, he loves him. He’d made it all of a month before he’d looked over at Evan Buckley and thought, Yeah, this could be it forever. And then Evan would ask a question or come to a realization about signs he’d ignored about being queer, and Tommy would get slammed back to reality. Evan needed to figure himself out, he needed the space and time to do that, and he deserved to not be tied to some middle-aged romantic with a cargo hold’s worth of baggage while he did that.

He realizes he’s been parked outside a school in the middle of the night, which is a weird thing for a grown man to do. He doesn’t know the school, has never shown up with a fire engine to help anyone there or do a demonstration or give a talk, so he doesn’t even know what neighborhood he’s in. He grabs his phone and opens his GPS, scanning around so he can figure out how far he is from home and whether there’s a gas station nearby.

It turns out, he knows the neighborhood, just not this part of it. He’s about a half mile from Eddie’s place—Eddie’s old place? He’s not sure.

Maybe Eddie would still be there, and he could tell Tommy why the fuck Evan had picked up and moved to Texas. Or Eddie wouldn’t be there, and Tommy would have something approaching an answer.

He puts the truck in drive and navigates himself toward Eddie’s house, seeing familiar landmarks the closer he gets.

In the driveway, there’s a Jeep.

Tommy stops abruptly in the middle of the road and stares. Did Evan sell his Jeep to Eddie? Did he sell it to the new people who moved into Eddie’s place? He loved his Jeep, he had intense brand loyalty that Tommy hadn’t understood until he’d heard about Maddie handing over the keys to hers. The idea that he’d leave it behind actually scares Tommy a little.

He parks the truck somewhat haphazardly, halfway blocking the driveway, and gets out. It’s still pouring rain. There’s a light on inside the house, so Tommy jogs up and knocks on the door.

When the door opens, Evan is blinking blearily at him, looking like he’d just woken up.

“Tommy?” he says, frowning. “What are you—holy shit, are you okay?”

“You’re here,” Tommy breathes, and Evan tilts his head in confusion. “You’re not in Texas.”

“No, Eddie’s in Texas,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, his shoulders hunching a little. “I’m subletting.”

Tommy nods, relief flooding him, even though having Evan separated from the loft feels wrong. He’s immediately exhausted after having gone through an intense rollercoaster of emotions for the last few hours that he’d been driving. He crosses his own arms over his chest, but it’s mostly to stave off the cold.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Why’d you think I was in Texas?” Evan asks.

He freezes, considers lying, realizes that’s stupid. “I went to your old place, and the guy there said.”

“Was he high?” he asks, and Tommy nods. “Yeah, I don’t think he was paying attention when I went to get my mail last week. Why were you there?”

Tommy shivers and tries to pull his arms closer to his body to warm himself. “I wanted to see you.”

Evan takes a half-step toward him, putting himself squarely in the doorway. “Why?”

“Because I miss you,” Tommy admits. “And I fucked up. We both kind of did, but I didn’t want to talk about it at the time. So I left, because I do that.”

“I miss you, too,” Evan says, his nose going pink and his eyes getting shiny with tears, and Tommy is so mad at himself for making Evan cry again. “I think about you all the time, and I almost text you or call you all the time. And you left, and Eddie’s gone, and something bad happened to Maddie, and I—”

Evan’s words are coming in a rush, and he’s crying, and Tommy rushes forward to wrap his arms around him. He’s wet and cold, and Evan is so warm in his sweatshirt. He hugs Tommy tight and sniffles.

“Sorry,” he says thickly. “It’s—I shouldn’t make this about me, too. Sorry.”

Tommy frowns and tightens his hold on him. “What are you talking about? This is about you. It’s about us.” He pulls back and presses a cold, shaking hand to Evan’s cheek, his thumb stroking over a tear as it rolls down his cheek. “What happened to Maddie? Is she okay?”

“She’s alive,” Evan says, which isn’t the same thing. “C-can you come in? I have the heater on.”

He nods, and Evan’s hand reaches for Tommy’s and curls around it. He wraps his other hand around it, too, and holds it close to his chest.

“Why don’t you have a jacket?” he asks.

“It wasn’t raining when I started driving.” A shiver runs through him, and Evan tugs him inside.

The house is warm, both literally and figuratively. Eddie’s things are gone, having been replaced by Evan’s. There’s photos all over, there’s also several plants, puzzle books, the fuzzy blankets that Evan likes using when it’s cold, and various little trinkets and knick-knacks that Evan had shown him that had lived in a box in his closet. They were from when he’d been travelling. He’d never bothered pulling them out and finding a place for them before.

Tommy stands just inside, and Evan disappears for a moment before coming back with a towel. He wraps it around Tommy’s shoulders and starts drying off his hair the way he used to when they’d get out of the shower.

“Evan,” he says softly, reaching up to stop him. “Talk to me.”

So he does. They end up sitting on the couch, and Evan tells him everything. He tells him about Maddie and Eddie and Blaze and everything. It all spills out of him like he’s been holding it all in, and Tommy listens and quietly seethes and hates himself a little more for handling things the way he had. He's kind of really unhappy about a lot of things and wonders if Evan was ever this lonely when they were together.

“I know I don't handle being left behind that well,” Evan says, shrugging. 

“That's not something you should've ever had to get used to,” Tommy says, reaching across to grab his hand. “And I'm sorry I was one of the people who did that to you.”

Evan looks at their clasped hands and then up at Tommy. “It's not your fault.”

“It's not not my fault.” He shrugs and smiles just the smallest amount when Evan cracks a smile. “I don't think you handled things perfectly—for the record, the only thing I did to promote marriage equality was to privately vote against Prop 8 and sign a couple petitions. I don't really like being referred to as an elder in a community I refused to be part of until the last few years. It doesn't feel earned or right, and I get defensive about it. But we didn't talk about any of that before. We both avoided a lot of difficult subjects because the good parts of us being together came so easy that we just kept putting it off.”

“Then after like five months, you realize you never talked about some really important shit and it never feels like a good time to bring it up,” Evan says, and Tommy nods. “Yeah, I do that. I, uh, wasn't an easy kid. Or adult. I'm still not, really. I can be a lot to handle. Sometimes I think that if I just don't talk about the stuff about me that's broken, it'll keep people from leaving or just ignoring me. It's never worked, but—maybe I'm just delusional, I don't know.”

Tommy sighs. “Okay, first of all: you don't need to be handled. That's not how that works. Everybody comes with baggage. That's just what adult relationships are: two people with issues trying to figure out how to make it work anyway. You have issues with abandonment and self-worth that I truly cannot wrap my head around right now, because you're one of the best people I've ever met. I avoid talking about tough feelings because I get emotional and I spent about thirty years learning to hide every real emotion I've ever had to keep myself physically, emotionally, and professionally safe. And I carry a lot of shame about the kind of guy I was because of that. I don't like him, I don't like revisiting him. I didn't want to talk about him with the human ball of sunshine I'd found myself dating.”

“I'm not feeling like sunshine these days,” Evan says wryly, gesturing to his face with his free hand. It’s still perfect, maybe a little tired, there’s maybe more stubble than there used to be. “I don't judge you for any of that, you know. I think I might've conflated some stuff from when I talked to him, but Josh told me a little bit about what it was like to have to come out back then. I don't actually know when Glee came out, I think it was when I was still living in Pennsylvania? But I should've asked you. I just didn't want to make you talk about things you didn't want to talk about.”

He feels like he had a stroke halfway through what Evan said. “Why does Glee matter?”

“The pre-Glee, post-Glee thing,” Evan says patiently, rationally, like that's a normal marker people use.

“Yeah, so that's not a thing,” Tommy says, and Evan groans, looking defeated. “At least, not for me. Or any of my friends. I mostly think of it as a pre- and post-marriage equality thing. Or Don't Ask, Don't Tell, since that pretty much turned me into a lying macho robot for six years. Whatever damage my father didn't cause, that policy took care of the rest. I appreciate that you never forced me to talk about things, but I also never volunteered that. And I did the same thing with you, then you never volunteered any of that. So we were basically living in the first couple months of a relationship for six months.”

“So we were doomed,” Evan says with a sad little smile.

Tommy squeezes his hand and reaches out with his other one to take his wrist, too. “I think we just needed to have some conversations. Like the one we're having now.”

“This isn't so bad,” Evan says, his smile softening a little into something warm. “I think there's still more ground to cover, but we're doing okay.”

“Yeah, well, you're really easy to talk to. You're just…easy.” At Evan’s raised brows, Tommy sighs. “That's not what I meant.”

Evan shrugs and laughs. “You're not wrong.”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, I remember. Not exactly complaining about that. But what I mean is that you're easy to talk to and be around and get comfortable with and fall in love with. Even with us handling a lot of things really poorly, it didn't create constant tension between us the way it normally would in a relationship. It just meant that it was easier to hide the cracks.”

And there's the sunshine grin. Evan’s giving him that broad smile that comes with a head tilt, and it's one of the things Tommy’s missed the most. “‘Fall in love with’?”

“Yeah,” he says, even though his heart's slamming in his chest. “I did do that.”

Evan squeezes Tommy's hand. “Yeah. I think I might've done a little of that myself.”

They’re interrupted by a shrill beep, and Evan jumps up to go to the kitchen. Tommy trails after him and sees that the oven door is cracked open, and Evan opens it the rest of the way to pull out a cheesecake.

“Every time I thought about reaching out to you, I’d bake instead,” Evan explains, hanging the oven mitts back on their hook. “I slowed down for a while, kind of started back up again recently. You can, uh, take some stuff if you want.”

He opens the fridge to show Tommy, and there’s six containers of cookies stacked on a shelf, three loaves wrapped up on another, and two layers of unfrosted cake.

“I was going to make ganache,” Evan explains, closing the fridge.

Tommy closes the distance between them and kisses him.

He knows they have to talk about more things—how this is even going to work, what kind of expectations they need to set about communication, whether Evan even wants him back—but Tommy doesn’t want to worry about that. Right now, he just wants to kiss him. He’s had dreams about kissing him, about opening a door and walking through and kissing him and never leaving, about kissing him and being shoved away and told he’s not worth the trouble, about kissing him and falling into bed together, some weird ones about kissing him when they’re in space or underwater. None of it even comes close to the real thing.

Evan whimpers against his mouth before one of his hands grips the front of Tommy’s shirt and the other tangles in his hair. He kisses back like he’s maybe missed Tommy as much as Tommy missed him, and hope flares in his chest.

When they pull apart, they don't get far. Evan's mouth is on his again, and Tommy’s arms go around him like they're always meant to be there.

“We still have to talk about a lot,” Tommy points out between kisses.

“Yep,” Evan agrees, pushing him up against the fridge. “But I think we're ending up here anyway. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Tommy says, his voice cracking terribly. He hugs Evan to him, and it’s home. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry, too.” Evan’s face ends up in his neck, just resting there. “You don't need to apologize, though.”

Tommy pushes gently at Evan’s shoulders so they can look at each other, because he's still backed up against the fridge and can't really move his head back without concussing himself. “Evan, I hurt you. Of course I owe you an apology, sweetheart.”

Evan looks away, and Tommy has a flash of anger at himself and everyone else who ever put the thought in Evan’s head that he wasn't worth an apology, wasn't worth their time, their energy, or their love.

“Loving you isn't a hardship. Okay?” he tries to get Evan to make eye contact, but he's stubbornly looking to the left and has tears in his eyes and a telltale pout to his lips. “Evan.”

He finally looks at Tommy, and there's so much pain there. And Tommy feels like an asshole for having missed it all those months. This isn't just from him, this is so many years of it.

“Come here,” Tommy says softly, pulling him close again. He takes all of Evan’s weight against him and lets the fridge hold both of them up. “I don't know what's going to happen. But I promise I'll stop assuming it'll be bad. You stop assuming I'll leave. Deal?”

“Deal,” Evan whispers against his shoulder. “I'm so tired.”

“Me, too. I don't think I've gotten a full night's sleep in months.” He turns his face to kiss Evan's hair and smiles when he tilts his head toward Tommy's mouth. “Do you want me to go so you can get some rest?”

He shakes his head as best he can without pulling away from Tommy. “I want you to stay.”

Tommy tightens his hold and nods. “I can do that.”

Evan pulls back when Tommy’s grip loosens a bit, and he still looks too sad for Tommy’s liking. He cradles Evan’s face in his hands and leans in to kiss his nose and then his birth mark spots and then the same areas around his other eye. When he pulls back, Evan’s got a sweet little smile on his face, and it feels like the world shifts a little more back onto its axis.

“Do you want some cheesecake?” Evan asks.

“I would love some cheesecake,” Tommy replies, smiling. “And whatever else you have.”

“You're gonna regret that,” Evan says, patting his own stomach. “All of this is getting too soft now.”

Tommy looks down and notices a little roundness to Evan’s abdomen. It's kind of doing it for him. He flushes and looks up at Evan, who's looking back at him with two raised eyebrows.

“What?” Tommy asks defensively. “You look good. I look like shit. I haven't gotten a real haircut in a couple months, haven’t shaved in a few days.”

Evan reaches up and tugs at one of the curls that formed in his drying hair. “I like it. You can see the grey better.”

Tommy's cheeks flush, and Evan trails his hand down to curl over Tommy's jaw, his thumb pressing into his cheek to feel his stubble.

“Cheesecake after?” Evan suggests.

“After what?” Tommy teases, already settling his hands on Evan’s hips.

“Gotta give you a tour of the new place.”

Tommy tugs him closer. “I've been here before,” he reminds him.

“Not like this,” Evan murmurs before drawing him into a kiss. 

He knows they should wait, there's a million reasons why they shouldn't jump into bed when they're not even officially back together, but Tommy is a weak man. He can't be expected to resist Evan Buckley, especially after being deprived of him for months.

“What do you say?” Evan asks.

“Never saw the bedroom,” Tommy lies, because he’d helped Eddie mount a TV on the wall.

Evan backs away, grabbing Tommy's wrist before he gets too far. “It's nice. Got a bed and everything.”

“Same bed as the loft?”

He shrugs. “Come find out.”

Tommy lets Evan tug him along, helpless to resist when he's got that sparkle in his eye and that teasing twist to his smile. Helpless to resist when he's been missing him every second of every day.

“Anyone ever tell you that you're a vision?” he asks. 

Evan twists his face as he considers the question. “You know, there was this one guy. You'd like him, I think.”

Tommy shakes his head. “Not if he was stupid enough to walk away from you.”

He shrugs. “He had his reasons. But it's okay, we're working things out.”

“Should I go then, or—”

Evan yanks Tommy close and kisses him. “You're not going anywhere, handsome. Not until I'm done with you.”

Tommy shivers and gets a hand under Evan's shirt to press against his lower back. “When's that gonna be?”

He thinks about that for a moment, too, and then shrugs, grinning. “Probably never.”

There's a lump in Tommy's throat, and he can barely swallow around it. “I can live with that.”

[rafesfavgirl]

two graves, one gun — r. cameron

sad rafe fic bc i just got my period and i'm feeling extra emotional :')

series: every few lifetimes

❝ so long, london stitches undone two graves, one gun you'll find someone ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after another night of getting coked out and passing out on barry's couch, rafe realizes you deserve better than him and decides to let you go.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: drug addiction, break-up, might make you cry, ANGSTY asl

the sole of your heel taps anxiously against your living room's hardwood floor, as you stared at the time on your phone's lock screen, which lit up with a photo that wheezie took of you and rafe sitting at one of the tables at midsummers last year, looking at each other as if you were the only people there.

8:30 p.m.

your heart aches at the realization that he had forgotten your date again, but the nerves that settle in your stomach win over, as you think about where he probably is.

pushing your weight off the sofa, you grab your car keys from the hooks on the wall, and dial rafe on your way out the door.

straight to voicemail. fuck.

you skip down the steps in front of your house and unlock your car in the driveway to get in, immediately starting the engine to get on your way.

you dial rafe again as you pull into the road—to no avail.

"damn it, rafe," you mutter, eyes switching between the road and your phone as you type him a message.

you: where are you???

when the message doesn't even go through, you let out a frustrated groan. either his phone's dead or it's switched off. you step on the gas to speed up, zigzagging between cars to get there faster.

you pull to an abrupt stop in front of a beat-down house on the south side, and switch the car off before hopping out.

"mrs. country club, what brings you to this side of the island?" barry stands from the porch when he sees you walking towards him, fuming.

"oh spare me the fake hospitality, barry," you tell him. "where is he?"

"where's who?" he shrugs—but you knew he knew what you were talking about.

"don't play dumb with me," you spat, attempting to walk past him. "i know he's here."

he steps to the side to block you from going any further. "maybe so, but it ain't a pretty sight."

"ugh," you manage to walk past him and proceed into the house, with him on your tail. "rafe!"

barry catches up to you and blocks your way again. "hey, i told you-"

"barry, you're really testing my patience here, alright?" you say, refusing to back down. you weren't scared of him—okay, maybe a little, but you weren't about to let him see that. "rafe!"

you push past barry again, and make your way further inside, immediately rushing to rafe, who was passed out face-down on barry's couch.

"oh my god, rafe!" you crouch down beside him, not missing the un-sniffed lines of coke on the wooden table in front of him, and pick up his head in your hands. "baby, baby," you gently pat his face with your hand. "can you hear me?"

"told you it wasn't a pretty sight," barry leans against a wooden post and watches you, making you roll your eyes.

"rafe," you try to wake him up again. "babe."

thankfully, his eyes flutter open, relief washing over you as you let out a sigh. "oh thank god."

"y/n?" his voice is barely above a whisper when his eyes lock with yours. "shit!"

you move aside when he suddenly sits up, searching the couch cushions for his phone. "what time is it?"

"rafe-"

"no, fuck!" he shouts when he realizes his phone is dead, and looks up at barry. "i told you to wake me up if i knocked out!"

"i'm not your keeper, cameron," barry shrugs. "just take your shit and go, a'ight?"

"baby…" rafe turns to you kneeling on the ground beside him, his voice much softer now. "i swear i set an alarm— i was just— i didn't think my phone would die and-"

"hey," you place your hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly to make him look at you. "don't worry about it. let's just get out of here, okay?"

he nods, and you stand up, dusting yourself off as you do.

"i'll meet you in the car, doll," he tells you. "i just gotta take care of something."

—

the car ride back to your house is almost completely silent, until rafe breaks it.

"you look beautiful, by the way," he says, eyes shifting to you.

you glance at him, a small smile on your lips. "thank you."

"god, i'm such an idiot!" he groans, clearly frustrated with himself over the situation. "how many missed dates is that this month?"

"rafe, i told you not to worry about it," you tell him. "it's okay, i get-"

"y/n," his voice is stern now, his eyes burning holes into your skin. "how many?"

you sigh, turning the wheel towards the curb to park the car in front of your house. "four," you answer, switching the ignition off. "that was the fourth one this month."

rafe scoffs and shakes his head, eyes averting away from you. he just couldn't look at you anymore, because he knew that even if you didn't show it, you were disappointed. not only at him, but maybe even yourself for putting up with him.

"hey," you place a hand on his knee, and he glances down at the gesture, before finally looking at you. "it's okay."

"how is it okay?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing. "all i do is disappoint you."

"baby, that's not true," you try to reassure him, but he doesn't buy it.

"it is true," he tells you. "and you don't deserve it."

not knowing what to say, you just glance down at your hand on his knee. "rafe…"

"no," he cuts you off, and places his hand above yours to slowly push it off of him. "i can't keep doing this to you."

letting out a sigh, you adjust yourself in your seat so you're looking at him. "okay, rafe, before you saying anything else— i love you, alright? there's nothing you can do that-"

"and that's exactly the problem, a'ight?" he snaps. "you're never gonna walk away from me yourself! even when i bought this shit from barry after i told you to wait in the car." he reaches into his pocket and tosses the small bag of blow in between the two of you. your eyes shift from it to him, the uneasiness in your stomach only getting worse.

"i have a problem y/n," he tells you. "and it's not the kind you can just 'fix' with love."

"then we'll get you help. we'll do any-" you try to reach out to him, but he resists.

"no," he says, motioning a hand between you two. "this has to end."

the words you dreaded hearing comes out of his mouth in one fell swoop, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"what?"

"i'm never gonna be the guy you need me to be," he shakes his head at you, and if it weren't so dark outside, you swear you'd see his eyes watering. "and since you can't let go, i have to do it for you."

tears brim along your lower lashes as you speak, "no. that is not your choice to make."

"god, y/n, can you stop making this harder than it already is?" he pleads.

"can you stop acting like it's so easy?" you retort.

"you think this is easy?" he asks, taken aback by your accusation. "it kills me to do this."

"then don't," you say, voice cracking as you reach out for his hands. "we can work through your addiction together, rafe. we'll-"

"that's not your responsibility," he shakes his head at you. "if i'm gonna get better, i need to do it on my own."

you sob, "i— i don't want this to be the end.”

rafe glances down at your hands, before bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

you lean into his touch, and a single tear rolls down your cheek—one that he wipes away with his thumb.

"i love you so much," he says, eyes closing as his head tilted down against yours. "i'm sorry."

his lips place a soft kiss on your forehead, and just like that, he's gone.

part 2.

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[mochitaekookie]

Yan!DILF Namjoon

A/n:Welp, it's been a long while and I very much apologise for the long hiatus but I'm back to writing now. While my works are in drafts and still being written, I'll be posting headcanons to get used to writing again 🙂

Dilf Namjoon who is a widower and with an infant son to take care of.

Dilf Namjoon who thinks of hiring a babysitter while he goes to work and earns money for both his son and him.

Dilf Namjoon, who can't find a damn good babysitter since most of them are just trying to get in his pants. Who spends weeks interviewing candidates, going through background checks, only to be met with disappointment every time.

Dilf Namjoon who eventually gives up, deciding that if he can’t find someone good enough, he’ll just have to work from home more. It’s frustrating, exhausting, but he refuses to leave his son with just anyone.

Dilf Namjoon who one day finds a towel fallen on his balcony, strange, since nobody lives upstairs. Later, he finds out that someone just recently moved in.

Dilf Namjoon decides to give the item back himself since the person doesn't even realise that their towel is missing.

Dilf Namjoon who knocks on the door and sees you, right out of the shower and hair dripping wet, looking like an angel.

Dilf Namjoon who awkwardly stands there since he forgot why he was there in the first place. When you ask if he needed something, he awkwardly clears his throat and hands you back your towel

Dilf Namjoon who finds out you live alone and assures you that you can come to him for help whenever you need help and not hesitate.

Dilf Namjoon who can't get the image of you out of his mind after that. He keeps thinking of you in ways he shouldn't.

Dilf Namjoon who tries to push those thoughts aside until the day he desperately needs a babysitter for an urgent meeting. Who goes through a mental list of possible options, only for your name to be the first one that comes to mind.

Dilf Namjoon who never intended to rely on a stranger, until he meets you. Until he sees the way his son, who is usually wary of new people, reaches out for you without hesitation.

Dilf Namjoon who is relieved when you agree without hesitation, who watches as his son immediately takes a liking to you, clinging to your hands and giggling as if you were always meant to be there.

Dilf Namjoon who is elated to find that you have no problem looking after his son again and that it's easier since you've been looking after your brother and cousins since a young age.

Dilf Namjoon who invites you over for dinner as a thank you for taking care of his son. He laughs at the fake-offended face you make and says that's what neighbours are for and there's nothing to thank you for.

Dilf Namjoon whose heart skips a beat when you sit with them for dinner. The entire evening, he keeps blushing. The way you take care of his son to the way you help him out in the kitchen, he can't help but think of a domestic life with you.

Dilf Namjoon who realises he is in love with you, when you tuck his son in his bed, when you kiss his forehead so softly.

That night, he kept imagining a life with you as his wife. Sure, he is older than you but isn't that better than boys your age? He's such a loyal gentleman and he earns well as well.

He'd take care of you so well, you don't ever have to worry about anything.

Dilf Namjoon who starts worming his way into your life, you need help with the hinges of your door? Don't worry, Namjoon is perfectly capable. You need to shift the heavy sofa to the other side of the room? Namjoon makes sure to flex his muscles.

Dilf Namjoon who asks for your laptop under the excuse of needing it for work, making sure it seems natural when you offer it to him yourself. Who copies all your files onto his own, going through your photos, your messages, learning everything he can about you.

Dilf Namjoon who learns the recipe you were learning from videos on your laptop and makes them the next time you come over.

Dilf Namjoon who is more than ready to teach you the recipe himself if it means to spend more time with you.

Dilf Namjoon who finds ways to accidentally touch you while you both are cooking. You think he is trying to hug you? Nope, he is just trying to take something from the cabinet above. When his fingers brush against yours while handing you a spoon? He is just making sure you are holding the spoon correctly.

Dilf Namjoon who finds every excuse to keep you close. Who makes sure his son gets attached to you so that you have no choice but to stay.

Dilf Namjoon who grows annoyed when he sees another man drop you off at your apartment late at night. Who waits outside his door, pretending as if he was just about to close it, and asks why you were out so late.

Dilf Namjoon who clenches his jaw when you casually mention that you were just out with friends and that the guy was only being nice. Who doesn't like that answer. Who files that man’s face into his memory, just in case.

Dilf Namjoon who keeps inviting you over under the pretense of his son missing you, using every opportunity to learn more about your life. The first thing he confirms? You don’t have a boyfriend. Good. But even if you did, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have handled it.

Who can’t take it anymore. Who has spent too many nights imagining what it would be like to have you in his arms, in his bed, forever his.

Dilf Namjoon who drugs you once, just once, slipping something into your tea so that you drift off into a deep sleep. Who lays beside you in his bed, wrapping himself around you as if you were already his.

Dilf Namjoon who takes your phone while you sleep, unlocking it effortlessly with your fingerprint. Who goes through your messages, growing irritated at the guy who keeps flirting with you. Who deletes those messages, blocking the number entirely.

Dilf Namjoon who watches as you wake up the next morning, completely unaware of what had happened.

Dilf Namjoon who comes running to you when his son starts crying, saying he won't calm down until and unless you are there because he had a nightmare and wants his mom (Namjoon encouraged him to call you that) to calm him down.

Dilf Namjoon who convinces you to stay the night when it gets too late, who insists it’s alright to stay at his place. His son, now completely attached to you, whines and clings to your hand, making it impossible for you to refuse.

Dilf Namjoon who stands in the doorway of the guest room after tucking his son in, watching as you settle under the blankets, his heart pounding. You trust him. You feel safe with him. If only you knew the thoughts running through his mind.

Dilf Namjoon who, when the moment is right, makes his move.

In the middle of the night, you wake up to get a glass of water. Only to find him standing there drinking a glass of wine, shirtless.

You think he hasn't seen you and about to make your way back to the guest room to not make it awkward, until he calls out your name.

"Thank you, you know, for taking care of my son," he says, motioning towards the wine. "Do you want some?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I don't drink," you say sheepishly, your gaze dropping.

"And besides, there's no need to thank me. S/n is a wonderful child. I love spending time with him."

He steps closer, the edge of the table pressing against your back, effectively caging you. "He can be yours," he states, his voice low.

"What?" you stammer, your heart suddenly pounding frantically against your ribs.

"I'm saying, he can be your child. Hell, he already is your child at this point. Do you know, when he has nightmares, he calls for you?" His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. "I'm serious. I can be a good husband."

He corners you against the counter, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmurs, his voice thick with longing. His fingers trail along your jaw, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his.

Dilf Namjoon who finally kisses you, deep and possessive, claiming you with every touch. He smirks as you kiss him back after a while. Who lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to his bed, whispering words of devotion against your skin.

Dilf Namjoon who knows this isn’t just one night.

Dilf Namjoon who presses a kiss to your temple as you drift off in his arms, whispering, "You’re never leaving me now."

Dilf Namjoon who refuses to let you go, you are his wife now, rings and vows can wait.

Dilf Namjoon who has no intention of ever letting you go.

[thischarmingmandalorian]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

Couple, Bar Chapter 1

Summary: After you help Joel with a work project, he takes you out for drinks. When the bartender mistakes you for a couple, his brain short circuits.

Pairing: Single Dad Neighbor!Joel Miller X Reader

Warnings: Joel thinking being mean is flirting, alcohol, grinding on strangers, getting groped in public, no-no words. In my mind there's an age gap (10 years max) and I envision a mid-40s Joel, but I don't think it'll ever become apparent.

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Formatting on mobile is not for the weak, y'all, so if this looks like ass I'm sorry. I don't know what a contractor does. Song mentioned is Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers. Full playlist is linked on the master post for this series (which I'll learn to link all together soon I promise I'M OLD, OK?!) Also I promise I have an English degree but if I read this one more time I'll lose the nerve to post it so ignore any mistakes I missed. Anyway love you bye.

While you weren't on your neighbor Joel's payroll, every now and then he'd knock on your door and sheepishly ask to borrow your "eye for design," which was Joel talk for "I need help knowing what handles look good on these cabinets I'm building and every other person in my life is busy."  

You and Joel had been neighbors for the better part of 5 years and had become relatively close in that time. If you were being honest with yourself, the first day you met you might have fallen in love, but since immediately jumping into a relationship with a newly-divorced single father wasn't on your five-year plan, those feelings were buried, albeit not always successfully.

Joel was charming, kind, and... Southern.  And while these were all things that made you head over heels for him, they were exactly what made it difficult to interpret his feelings for you. Were he and Sarah baking you Christmas cookies and hand delivering them to your door because he too had a crush, or was he just being neighborly? Was he grinning every time he said hello to you because he was a nice guy? What were you supposed to make of that one time, on his couch for movie night, when his hand lingered a little longer than normal on your thigh? You had no idea, and for the sake of your friendship, you were content not knowing.

On this particular day, Joel needed help matching paint colors to flooring samples and might as well have been color blind. He was building a house for a newlywed couple and their wishes for, as Joel put it, "some 1960s Brady Bunch bullshit" aesthetic meant nothing to him. You had spent the better part of an hour helping Joel match swatches of green and orange in ways that he had previously thought impossible, and as a thank you, he offered to buy you a drink at the first bar you spotted on the way home.

The first bar you spotted happened to be an almost-literal hole in the wall, but the packed parking lot indicated it was a place worth visiting.  Joel opened the door, beckoning you through the threshold ahead of him, and you're hit with a wall of smoke and the bump of a local dj working through his set. 

Luckily most of the people at the bar had already started drinking and were congregated in the middle of the tiny dance floor, making it easy to find two seats. Joel flagged the bartender over and ordered for the both of you, handing his card over to start a tab.

"Got you a beer, this place doesn't look like they'd make a good margarita," Joel shouts over the music. 

You smile, leaning in close to thank Joel. "I appreciate the forethought! Send me a Venmo request for what I end up owing you," you gesture to the frosty bottles that get put in front of you.

Joel tuts and waves his hand between you two in a noncommittal gesture. He leans in close to your ear instead of shouting this time, "consider it payment for your help today. When that couple told me they wanted their house to be 'midcentury Palm Springs chic' I knew you'd know what they meant. The wife kept sending me links to her Pinterest board, whatever the fuck that is. I was too scared to click them because..."

"Because you're fucking old," you finish, barking out a laugh at the frown that Joel gives you.

After one beer turned into three, Joel starts to open up. Despite his gruff exterior, you know he cares and is interested in your life, even if it takes some alcohol to get him asking about it.

"Have you started dating yet?" The question catches you off guard, your eyes growing wide. "What? You've been in town for five years now, it's high time you start putting yourself out there. A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a man."

There it is again. Is Joel just being nice calling you pretty? Or is he fishing for something more?

"Have you started dating?" you counter, raising an eyebrow, nodding when Joel shakes his head. "I'm too busy, Joel. I'm…"

"'Focusing on my career,'" Joel finishes for you, having heard it all before.

You roll your eyes. "Why are we talking about this?"

Joel smirks and cocks his head to your beer, the label in the process of being peeled completely off. "You've peeled the label off every drink you've had tonight."

"Oh…kay?"

Joel shrugs, "if Tommy were here he'd say you're pulling the labels off because you're sexually frustrated." He makes a face as if to say 'but what do I know?'

You raised an eyebrow at Joel. "You of all people should know not to take what Tommy says as fact. And you're one to talk; you live across the street, I'd notice if women were coming over. And they're not. You're going through a dry spell, Miller, same as me." You empty your bottle, stuffing the label down the neck and waving the bartender over for you and Joel to order one more round.  Joel tries to think of a witty comeback, but he knows you're right. 

You watch the bartender open your tab on the till behind the bar and chuckle when you notice what she's titled it: at the top of the screen, in bold letters, "COUPLE BAR."

You tap Joel's bicep, pointing to the screen, "look at that, Miller," you shout over the music, "she thinks you and I are a couple."

Joel looks at the screen himself, eyes suddenly going wide. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he isn't just chuckling at the bartender's misunderstanding, but your expression turns to one of anger once Joel regains use of his brain and the only thing he can think to say is, "... ew?"

You hope you just misheard him over the loud music, but as Joel started to sputter out an apology, looking horrified at what he had said, you realize - a stranger thought you two were dating, and Joel thinks that's gross. You weren't interested in hearing him trip over his words while he tried to backtrack, and you desperately needed a distraction so you didn't start to cry.  You wave your hand in front of Joel's face, telling him to save it as you grab your beer and push past him to the dance floor.

This is definitely not your scene, the middle of a smoke-filled bar on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but you make the most of it, taking a swig from your bottle as you push through the crowd. Once you've made your way to the center of the crowd, you assume the position - eyes closed, bottle raised above your head, swinging your hips to whatever top 40 hit the dj decides to bleed into the last one he played.  You don't have to wait long before you feel a body push up behind you and you welcome the distraction. You don't open your eyes or lower your hand except to drink from your near empty bottle, but you do back your ass up against the stranger behind you. It's definitely not Joel. This person behind you is way too lanky; when his arms encircle your waist they lack definition, his thighs aren't nearly as beefy as Joel's, and… you get frustrated with yourself.  Joel just insinuated dating you would be gross and all you can do is think about how hot he is? 

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and enjoy the moment. The guy behind you is getting handsy, and normally that would bother you, but Joel was right about that dry spell. One song bleeds into another as you gyrate against this stranger who now has his hand splayed across your stomach under your shirt.

You're ripped unceremoniously from your mindless grinding by a large hand on your shoulder. You wink one eye open though you knew it was Joel. You're not interested in hearing him out, especially not with this stranger's hand gliding slowly up your torso, boldly inching closer to your chest.

"Darlin'" you hear Joel shout over the music, "'m sorry. I didn't mean…"

You put your palm in front of Joel's face before moving your hand on top of the stranger's, whose fingers are teasing the hem of your bra. Joel can be sorry, but he's also going to see how decidedly not-ew the thought of being with you is.

"Whatever, Joel. You can think being my boyfriend is gross. This is fine!" You open your eyes and the look on Joel's face is one you've never seen before. At this point he isn't looking at you, he's staring daggers at the man behind you. Whoever he is seems blissfully unaware.

"Honey, I'm out of touch. I'm fucking old, you said it yourself! I don't know how to - hey, buddy, do you fucking mind?" The hand under your shirt loses its grip on you as Joel shoves the shoulder of the guy behind you. Suddenly his body unglues itself from your back.

"My bad, man. Didn't know she had a boyfriend," he shouts over the music as he disappears back into the crowd. You groan and roll your eyes.

"So sorry, Joel! Turns out when you look and act like my boyfriend, people think you really are! How embarrassing for you," you ramble into Joel's ear. You turn to walk off the dance floor, embarrassed, but before you're out of his reach Joel grabs your forearm, pulling gently until you're flush with his body. He towers over you, his eyes bore into yours.

"Please listen," he bends to speak quietly into your ear, "I'm sorry, and I mean it. We're friends, and I value that. I thought I was bantering, bein' funny. I know you don't want to be a couple at this bar. I know you want to be friends, nothing more, with me. But…" he trails off, pulling away to look at your face.

The atmosphere changes in a way that you swear is straight out of a movie. The lights pulsing and flashing are hitting Joel's face in a way that makes him even more handsome, which you'd thought previously impossible. While your beer bottle is empty, clutched into your hand that hangs limply at your side, Joel's drink is nearly full, still frosty, and dripping condensation through your shirt, soaking your lower back. Joel's eyebrows are raised, waiting for you to do or say anything. 

And then the dj changes the song. You are… intimately familiar with what begins to play and you shake your head, chuckling. What divine intervention drove the dj to start playing a song about ruining a friendship at this very moment? You have no idea, but you make a mental note to thank the universe as you smile at Joel. You push away from him for just a second, long enough to rip the label off your empty beer bottle. Joel looks confused watching you ball up the damp paper. 

You chuckle as you toss the label at Joel, it pinging off his temple before you spin your body so your back is plastered against Joel's front. 

You'll show him sexually frustrated.

Joel seems to take a second to read the situation because his body doesn't move. In fact, it goes rigid. Your hips sway against him anyway. Joel only breaks out of his spell when your arm snakes around his neck and you bury your fingers in his hair. Tugging gently on his curls seems to awaken something in him and his hands are on you in seconds. The hand clutching his beer comes to rest on your hip as the other picks up where your previous dance partner left off, creeping under your shirt and splaying across your stomach. 

"What are we doin' here, baby?" Joel rasps into your ear, his voice deeper and more strained than you're used to. "I guess I deserve you teasin' me, but two can play this game." Joel's nose prods at a spot behind your ear as he peels one cup of your bra away from your body, replacing it with his hand. Your eyes fly open to ensure no one notices, but everyone on the dance floor is busy paying attention to their own partners. Joel rolls your nipple between two fingers before giving it a flick; you try and suppress a moan.

Not to be outdone, you reach for the beer bottle in Joel's hand. You make sure Joel's eyes are locked on you as you lick a stripe up the neck of the bottle, taking a generous sip before handing it back. Joel's eyes widen and he smirks, bringing his mouth back to your ear.

"Think it goes without sayin' now, but I really don't hate the idea of people thinking you're mine," Joel accentuates his last word with a gentle nip at your earlobe that makes your head loll back onto his shoulder. 

"Are you listening to the song, Joel?" You reach up to place your hand on Joel's cheek, turning his face gently so your eyes meet.  He looks confused, but you can tell he's training his ear onto the chorus of what's playing.

I wanna ruin our friendship

We should be lovers instead

I don't know how to say this

'Cause you're really my dearest friend

Joel lowers his eyes back down to meet yours and smirks. "You an' me both, darlin'." His hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer and you feel him grow hard against your ass. 

"Know where I last heard this song?" The final notes start to dissipate, melding seamlessly with the next song. Joel shakes his head and asks where. You smirk, nuzzling into Joel's neck before you lick a stripe up to his ear. "It's on my sex playlist."

Joel stills. You grin, giggling as he pushes you away gently. "I've gotta close out the tab," he says once he remembers how to form thoughts into words. "Meet me at the truck. And think about what song you're gonna put on once I get you home."

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THEY ENTERTAIN ANOTHER WOMAN FOR TOO LONG

synopsis: instead of them being jealous, this time you are because of their attention being focused on someone else 🤧

characters: zoro, luffy & sanji!

warnings: female terms used in zoro's & sanji's <3, nicknames + swearing, angst for sanji

mei's note: my previous post had an accidental angsty ending for luffy so i'll be posting a happy one soon! <3

⟶ @ahseyy request: ... And i have this idea 🤧 we had that the OP boys are jealous, sooooo obviously we need that Yn is jealous! ...

☆ "they're just friends!" usopp's words kept ringing in your mind as you stare at ZORO and his ex-girlfriend.. you and the rest of the strawhat crew had stopped sailing, planning to settle a bit on the island you came across. oh, how you deeply regret telling luffy that "this seems like a good place for us to stay in and regain our energy!" now you're stuck witnessing this situation play out, having you completely engrossed in it.

☆ usopp, having a sixth sense for drama, immediately noticed the lack of your presence as a result of you spying observing zoro and his ex.

☆ "are you done spying on your boyfriend?" he chuckles seeing your startled expression. "i'm not spying on him! i'm just-" you see her playfully slap his bicep, earning a displeased look on your face. "why is he even speaking to her for so long? it's not like they left at the best terms.." you blurt out, sighing after seeing usopp's sly smirk.

☆ you know he thinks you're an obsessively jealous person, but you can't find it in you to care because there she goes touching him again! the worst of it all is that zoro doesn't seem to be bothered by it.. your eyebrows furrow as you keep witnessing them smiling way too much, standing way too close, being way too touchy, and the worst of all; they're talking way too soft for you to eavesdrop!

"that's it, i'm going over there!" you utter annoyed, dropping the mop you were holding for the past 15 minutes, having made little to no progress at cleaning the ship's floor. usopp, taken aback, dashes to stand in front of you, blocking the exit of the ship. "are you out of your mind? don't you understand you'll be labeled as the most controlling girlfriend ever?! just- sit this confrontation out alright?" he let's out a sigh of relief, feeling he prevented a major fight to go down, not only between you and zoro, but possibly also between you and zoro's ex..

usopp was right, you know he was, but you couldn't bother thinking straight while you were still seeing that woman being handsy with your man. fuming, you gaze at the two, loathing the almost non-existent space there was between them. "i'm so done," you mutter upset. "please take over cleaning for me today, usopp.." you left to your room and plopped down on your bed, trying to put all your intrusive thoughts to rest.

but of course you couldn't after having seen that interaction between the two. were you exaggerating? was this normal? is it wrong for you to feel this way? this fuming feeling is causing you so much distress. it's like your thoughts are eating you up from the inside. you don't want to feel this way, like you're the one at fault, like you're not enough, like you'll never be enough.. right after that thought crept up out of the darkest pits of your brain, you heard a knock on your, now locked, bedroom door. "baby? you alright?.. why's the door locked-? baby?" you recognize zoro's voice immediately, mentally being stuck between picking the easy choice: ignoring him and bottling up your feelings, or the hard one: facing him and talk to him about your current thoughts..

unbeknownst to you, you unconsciously chose the former option. you open the door and look him in his eyes, hiding as much of your feelings possible. "what?" he furrows his brows, confused by your cold welcome before he remembers usopp warning him you weren't in a good mood because of his overfriendly encounter with his ex. "is this about her?" he chuckles before shaking his head slightly, in disbelief you'd be this bothered by someone from his past. "so what if it is?! is it so weird for me to be upset some woman is being all handsy with you?! and is it suprising that i got bothered even more by you not minding her touching you? is it that weird, zoro? 'cause if it is, please, do tell me!" you blurt out, almost all in one breath, before slamming the door shut.

you weren't planning on letting it out, you didn't want to bother, assuming he'd just brush it off as you exaggerating.. you didn't expect him to open the door you aggressively slammed in his face, so soon. you didn't expect him to, when he saw you leant on the wall with furrowed brows and a trembling upper lip, grab you by the waist and pull you closer to him, so close there was barely anything between you at all.. and least of all did you expect him to grab your chin, raising it so you looked him in the eyes while he told you "if i gave one shit about her, would i be here right now? tell me, if i didn't care about you at all, then why would i tell her i'm not interested in getting back together with her when she asked? why would i tell her i finally found someone that i want to spend the rest of my life with? shit, as cheesy as it sounds, it's true, baby.. i can't imagine being with anyone else except you. so please, don't you get jealous about girls i don't give a damn about."

you send him a soft smile, leaning your forehead on him. "don' know who told you i was jealous.. but you got to get better sources 'cause i for sure wasn't jealous.." zoro scoffs letting out a "yeah, right."

☆ needless to say you two made up and cuddled for the rest of the day.

☆ that would be the end.. but of course usopp had to bug you.. "hey! i took over your cleaning today, so you better take over mine for the next week.." usopp pleaded, with both his hands on his hips. "out." zoro mumbled into your neck, expecting him to comply instantly. "but-!" usopp began to bicker, before getting interrupted by zoro. "now." you accidentally let out a giggle, swiftly moving your hand to cover your mouth right after. "whatever! i will be back, considering this debt!" with that usopp leaves the room, leaving you two alone, enjoying the comfortable silence.

☆ SANJI is a womanizer, that's no shocking discovery. you've know about this fact since the moment you met him. he was charming you up while asking everyone's drinks and then he went off, flirting with another woman on his way back to the kitchen. that moment you learned that this was sanji. but there's also the caring sanji that'd make you a warm soup when you're sick, tending to your needs yet still somehow find away to make you blush whilst laughing with him. in addition to the caring sanji, there also is the determined sanji; whenever he'd speak about finding the all blue, and all the meals he would cook, all the different fish he would see, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening with adoration and resolve. further, intellectual sanji heavily plays a role in your daily life; happily helping you with mundane chores to the most exciting adventures you and your fellow strawhats go on. he fills you in on books he's read, food he's cooked, ingredients he's used, products he's bought and much more!

☆ you could go on and on, daydreaming of all sanji's positive personality traits, but you're all time favorite would have to be considerate sanji.. the way he could immediately sense from you that you weren't feeling like your usual self still amazes you. how he always chooses the right moments to bring you a freshly brewed cup of tea with your favorite desert right next to it, which you have know idea how he had the time nor ingredients for. how he treats you like a princes and tells you how much you mean to him in so many different ways when you feel absolutely miserable. and, oh, how he always knows when to embrace you tightly and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, until it becomes numb.

☆ so with all that, you accepted him being a womanizer, having the seemingly perpetuous habits of bantering with other women. you always wondered if he'd stop flirting with so many women if you asked him to.. but then the thought that you two were nothing and wouldn't be anything else than friends hit you.

☆ nevertheless, seeing his cheeky smile being sent to some random woman, seeing him subtly sling his arm around her waist as he guids her to the dance floor, seeing him lean closer to her every minute, it was killing you, no more like slowly scraping you from the inside, the bottled up pain waiting for you to finally burst open.

you've been eyeing them the whole night, not once taking your eyes off of them or bothering to answer usopp's rants with more than a 'mhm,' or a 'hmm'. "have you listened to a word i said?!" usopp voiced suddenly, turning the strawhats' complete attention to you. "mhm.." absent-minded, you nod hearing him say something, but not comprehending the words he spoke.

"see, told you she wasn't paying attention," usopp leaned back against his seat after pulling up his shoulders, indicating he was right about you not paying attention to what anyone was saying. zoro, being the one seated next to you, tapped your shoulder, earning a "hm?" from you. getting annoyed by your negligence, he shifted his gaze to the direction you were looking in, finally understanding what the issue was.

to clarify your absent-mindness, zoro nudged his head towards sanji and his date. his date, who was sat on his lap at this point, making the knot in your stomach grow substantially. seeing his arm wrap around her hips as she leaned on him was your final stroke, your last straw. it was your breaking point.. you've reached, no, you've long surpassed your limit for these shenanigans, but right now, this very moment you finally break.

you suddenly feel a rush of tears burn your eyes, overwhelmed with your thoughts and emotional distress. you jump up, hurriedly leaving the club room you were in, not wanting anyone to see you in your current state. you desperately search for a private area where you can cry yourself out of this situation without having people judge you. but you notice the whole place is packed with couples who can't keep their hands off of each other, except the balcony, so you shakingly make your way to the cold space.

all of a sudden, you hear someone's heavy breathing behind you. "darling? what's the matter? what happened?!" sanji. he asks you breathlessly, due to him running after you. you quickly tried to wipe your tears away, but they kept coming! making you feel even more hysterical. "hey, hey now -" sanji notices your crying, he turns you around, his arms moving from your arms down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "talk to me, sweetheart.. please, just talk to me.." he pleads, moving his face closer to yours.

"i- i can't- do- it!" you babbled in-between sobs. "what, darling? who did this to you?" sanji moves his hands to your cheeks, pulling your face to his, carefully. "you..! you're killing me!" he furrows his brows in confusion. once you calmed down, you slowly tore one of his hands off your face. "i can't keep seeing you with others, sanji.. it really fucking hurts! i- i just can't-" you push him away a little, "i can't keep bottling it up sanji.. i'm done.."

☆ he didn't even mean to.. he was just being friendly, he was cracking jokes, making sure she was feeling calm and at peace, he asked sanji to get her something to snack, he was being luffy..

☆ normally, you'd swoon over him whenever he'd be in this caring mood of his. but not this time, no. this time, you were close to glowing green out of envy. you shouldn't be feeling this way, you know that. you trust luffy with your everything! it just hits you in the wrong place whenever he leans towards her when she speaks. it's like you can feel your heart cramp up each time she looks up at him and smiles, receiving his usual toothy grin in return.

☆ she was lost, abandoned at sea by her very own family. at least that's the bit you picked from usopp dramatically narrating her lifestory. is it heartless that all you could think of was that you hoped, the strawhats and you would drop her off at the very next island, wish her luck with her life, and continue your journeys? knowing luffy, that's the last thing that would happen. no, it's not even on the list of things he would ever consider! your thoughts made you feel absolutely terrible. you weren't a bad person, so why were you being so uncaring towards this poor girl who had lost so much? envy. jealousy can bring out the absolute worst in people. the lowest of a person's nature gets drawn out someone. and that someone now, was you.

you tried to stay away from her, not wanting to accidentally lash out. you felt bad for her, you did, but you also how far you could go, when jealousy takes apart in decision-making. so you avoid her, and just like that, you were also avoiding luffy. because for some reason, he was always near her, always. it's like he was scared she'd run away?

luffy noticed. but he didn't know the reason you were avoiding her. he's always optimistic and cheerful, so everyone expects him to always be exactly that, except you. you were there for him, allowing him to have bad days. he didn't have to hide his feelings or emotions. it was a relief for him to find someone like you, someone he lived so dearly, who lived him back just as much. it was refreshing, calming, delightful. what happened? what did he do? was he too much? or did he do too little to show you he cares so much, that he'd give you the world if you asked for it. he'd go to the moon and back for you. he doesn't know how, but he'd find a way. and now he lost you? that can't be true. it can't. he won't accept it!

that's how you got in your current situation; his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his hands holding you tightly by your waist, mumbling something about how good you smell.

you had told him the reason you were avoiding was because of your sudden jealousy. he laughed for a good 10 minutes about how ridiculous you were to think of something like that! but in his mind, oh, how relieved he was that you weren't avoiding him because you fell out of love with him. it was because you were too in love with him..

☆ you two ended up having a picnic on deck, trying to keep usopp and chopper away from your neatly set up meals prepared by sanji (duh)

☆ luffy kept teasing you about how jealous you were and that you love him too much for your own good. acting like he wasn't on the verge of being a crying mess because he thought he lost you 🙄

☆ he kept giving you nose tip smooches while telling you you'll never lose him <3

MEI'S NOTE: so, uhm yeah sanji's part was definitely something...

... hope you enjoyed!! <3

[37-drc89]

the way things go; lee minho

❁ nothing warms your heart more than his presence.

trope: roommates to lovers.

genre: comfort, slight angst, work exhaustion, happy ending.

summary: finally understanding that your failure doesn't scare him away.

warnings: blood, mention of overprotective parent, family problems, let me know if i should put anything more in here.

word count: 3,7k.

masterlist

note: this is very much my first fic here, like, ever. i'm still green in tumblr, any links and mostly making posts look good, but i'll eventually master it. i look forward to seeing your opinions and things i can change or make better, i'll appreciate every comment. and, please remember that english is not my first language! if you see any typo or something doesn't make sense, please inform me! thank you:)

Coming back home on Friday after whole week of working your ass off really feels like a walk of shame. You feel like everyone passing by can tell how awfully you did at your workplace today. And they wouldn't be wrong, the amount of scolds your boss threw in your direction through past few days is worryingly numerous.

Whether it was missing out on paper work your boss asked you to do for him, because you were so sure the deadline was set on the day after, or accidentially knocking off of your desk whole cup of hot, sweetened tea that later on you had to scrap off of the covering, under the strict eye of the middle aged man that scared you so much. Especially with the amount of misfortune that chased after you lately, like it was glued to you.

Cringe makes its way to your face. You're shuffling your way to your apartment, not really in a hurry, feet lazily dragged after you as you didn't even have any strenght to properly lift them off the ground. You most likely look like you've been partying for at least three nights in a row, but you can't find it in yourself to care about it. Not now.

Seeing the building in which your apartment is placed have never felt so relieving and you can feel your legs giving up under your weight just at the thought of splashing on the bed and dozing off. Vision of passing out on the sidewalk doesn't seem appealing to you, so you rush yourself to the door, typing entrance code and walking into the elevator, stairs not even crossing your mind. Your tired body slumps itself against the wall as you patiently wait to get to the 6th floor, finding relief in having something to support yourself on. Finally getting to the door you can't help but feel excited, tapping your feet happily just at the thought of making up every hour of sleep you've missed this week because of your busy schedule. You slide the door open and the very first thing reaching your ears is eager meowing, three fur balls appearing at the entrance immediately. You can't help but smile, kneeling to give each of them gentle head pat before taking off the coat and shoes. This truly felt like a bliss, like you've just slid off a bag of stones off your back. Sigh leaves your mouth, heading to the kitchen you turn on the kettle as your tea craving grows with every second. Soonie appears next to you, sitting at the table just across from you. You've grown so friendly with your roommate's Minho's cats that neither you nor him have any problem with kitties occupying places people normally wouldn't let them sit on.

Then you freeze for a second.

You look at Soonie.

Soonie looks at you.

Your brows furrow and the cat goes back to whatever he was doing previously.

Fuck.

Minho is coming home today. He's been away for past five days due to his business trip, that was probably exhaustion fogging your mind enough to forget about this. He's coming back today. And your apartment looks like a bomb has been detonated right in the middle of it all. You can't risk him seeing how messy you got, Minho is always the one to put stuff at the right place, making his bed no matter in how much of a hurry he's in, always the one to do the dishes and basically make everything look perfect. You can't see him disappointed in you for such an easy thing, he'll think you don't even gather your life together. Not like you do, but it's nothing in his business, you shouldn't become another one of his problems. He's just your roommate and the only thing you share and should take care of is apartment that is now in complete mess. You can blame it on your lack of time, barely spending any time at your place recently, but that won't help in current situation.

Quick glance at the time, 4:23 pm, you reach out for your phone to scroll up the conversation with your friend to make sure how fast you have to act.

He's back in town at 5 pm. Could this possibly get any worse?

You scold yourself internally for letting this whole situation happen. But you don't have time to think about this now, and as you turn off the kettle you speedrun to the livingroom, gathering scattered clothes from all around the place. You blame it on Monday when you got up so late you didn't even have time for brushing your hair and of course, the shirt you were looking for was nowhere to be found. Out of all things, it was the one you needed that day.

Then you pick up empty cans of soda, bottles of water and cups of coffee from the table and quickly throw them into the dishwasher. You blame it on Tuesday, the night you realised you have to write that fucking paperwork you got scolded for missing on Monday. So you sat there for hours, head empty, taking breaks only when your tired tears started wetting your pages, scared that all your miserable efforts will be ruined.

Rushing to Minho's room you pick up blanket and pillows from his floor. You blame it on Wednesday, the day you were already on the edge of breaking down and giving up on your job. Even though the boy is only a roommate for you, you've grown so used to his presence you started finding peace in it. Even after the worst day you knew that someone will always be there waiting at your apartment to serve you cup of hot chocolate and bowl of ramen, to take your turn of folding laundry or just listen to how appaling your day was. But he wasn't home and it left you all to yourself which was never the best idea. So, seeking for at least tiny bit of comfort, you slept on his floor. That sounds so fucking stupid and weird when you think about it now, but just the aura Minho left in his room made you feel a bit closer to him. Reminds you of every time he invited you over to play some online games for 12 year olds or spill any tea that happened at his work. Though, you never wanted to interfere his private space, so sleeping in his bed didn't even cross your mind. Floor was just sufficient for you, and you let your tears flow that night, just as much as you needed it. You know he would understand. He might seem cold to others, but you know he would. He already unwrapped his side of him to you letting you see that truly, inside, he's softer than anyone you know; It's all for Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They really do get the best of Minho.

Going back to the kitchen, you gather empty boxes of instant ramen, snacks and every ready shop food that you could possibly find at the convenience store. You blame it on the whole week of rushing, not even having time to eat a proper meal. You can feel it down your stomach, body demanding anything that could properly feed it and give it any strenght to function as it should be functioning. Honestly, you can't recall the last time you didn't feel sick. Lump in your throat was your loyal companion since a week ago, constant urge to throw up not leaving your body even when you were falling asleep and you know you'll have to appreciate normal, nutritions food more.

You run around the apartment holding a wet towel, wiping quickly every mirror hung on the walls as you know nothing pisses Minho more than fogged glass. So you try your best to do it carefully, just like he does it. Reaching the last mirror placed in the front hall you eagerly wipe it, aware of your lack of time. Then it all happens at once.

Shitty food, lack of sleep, liters of coffee and ungodly amount of stress feel like kicking in all at once, like it's been gathering in your exhausted body for the whole week just for this one moment that you needed to be fucking careful.

Vision blurry, feet suddently tripping over itself, mind going blank just for a second, but second is enough for you to try holding yourself onto the small table placed right under the mirror and shaking it so hard when sudden thump reach your ears, followed by loud sound of shattered glass. You don't want to look. Because you're fully aware of what just happened. You don't want to look but you do. Eyes landing on the remains of now broken vase, water all over the floor, flowers that were resting inside it now cut in half and completely soaked.

And it was Minho's favourite vase. The first and the last thing he always glanced at when leaving or coming back home, admiring its beauty, pretty patterns, unique shape and the prettiest flowers inside. Flowers that he got for his 25th birthday that passed not so long ago from his dearest best friend Jisung. Flowers that he was so happy to receive, first thing he did after coming home that day was showing them to you, proudly, ranting about how they perfectly suit the room. And you ruined it all.

Your body slides slowly on the wet floor, water soaking your pants on your knees and you support yourself on the palms of your hands not to completely fall into the mess. You feel small pieces of glass ripping open your delicate skin of your hands, small streams of blood making their way to the floor, mixing with spilled water but you couldn't care less. Elbows start to shake under the weight of your body, shoulders tensing and your head falls, your own quiet sobs reaching your ears. It quickly turns into uncotrollable groans and whines, tears now flowing down your face with no end, nose already full, loose hair stick to your now completely soaked cheeks.

And you blame it on yourself. You could seek for anything to put his all on, like your boss, for making you feel useless for not even managing to do your fucking job properly and assigning you more work than anyone else in your department. Or your mother for not teaching you how to manage your time and how to function on your own, her overprotectiveness during your childhood and teenage years showing so often that you never even got any time to learn adult life before stepping into it. But you know it isn't their fault, no matter how hard you try to think that it is. You let yourself into this situation. You let yourself be in the state you're currently in. You didn't try hard enough to make yourself a decent person. There's no one you can blame but you.

Your endless cries must've muffled the sound of door cracking open, eyes reaching only feet of your roommate that was now standing at the entrance. You couldn't look up, even if you wanted to, you couldn't look Minho in the eyes. Not when he's witnessing your failure and the mess you made out of something so dear to him.

Meanwhile Minho stood there, body frozen, gazing at your tiny figure splashed on the floor, shoulders shaking. He doesn't even notice the crashed vase at first, your current state drawing all his attention immediately to you.

He doesn't give himself any time to think much longer about what's happening in his front hall right now, dropping bags he's been holding in his right hand and suitcase on his left and appearing at your side the second after, kneeling by your vulnerable body on the floor.

"Hey, hey.." Minho lightly lays his hand on your shaky back, carefully caressing it to soothe you. "Easy now, I'm here."

The only respond he gets is your dramatic, loud sob ripping out of your heavy chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Minho... Is the only thing you could get out of yourself, followed by another set of pretty disgusting, wet cries.

"Are you hurt? Let me see your hand, please," your roommate asked quietly not to scare you after noticing red coloured drops beside your knees. Gently, he took your harmed hands into his and studied small pieces of glass stuck in your skin. "Let's get it cleaned, okay?"

His hand makes its way to your waist and he stands up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves that could put you in pain. He shuffles you to the bathroom and helps you sit on the toilet seat and starts preparing alcohol and wet towels.

You feel pathetic.

Not only you ruined his special item, something so important and beautiful, but now he has to take care of someone that caused all the damage. You feel helpless once again, like you couldn't do anything fucking right for once. Once.

Your caring roommate starts removing glass shatters from your wound, his tongue sticking out a bit from the corner of his mouth, fully concentrated in his task. He knows that if his hands twitch even a little bit, he might hurt you even more, and let me tell you, his hands are trembling. He can't recall a situation when he saw you in such state.

You always seem tough, tough against any misfortune that meets you. You surely talk to him when you need some shoulder to lay on, about your worse days and he's cautious enough to notice when you're exhausted. But he's never seen you at your breaking point, starting to believe you don't have any. Yet you're here, in front of him, not even being able to speak properly. He can't help but feel kind of relieved at the whole situation knowing that your hard, protective shell cracked a little bit, letting him see something he's never seen in you before. Weakness.

"This might sting a bit," Minho informs you as he presses alcohol soaked paper to your wound. Whimper leaves your mouth at the unpleasant feeling and you hang your head down. He quickly wraps bandage around your hand and clasps it between his warm palms.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about that the hall. I'll take care of it, okay?" He tries to lower himself, kneeling in front of you, so he can get a better glimpse of your puffed face. You shake your head and straighten your back, looking at him with serious expression.

"No." You sniff, "No, I broke it, I broke something so important to you and it's my fault. I'll clean it. I'll buy you a new one, the same one, I promise Minho."

His hands make their way to your back, slowly, eyes remaining on you for any sign of discomfort. When you sneakily lean into the touch, Minho pulls your body entirely towards his, clasping your weak figure into his arms and sways you left and right, wanting to feel your muscles relax in his embrace.

"What's wrong, hm? My roommate senses are tingling," his voice muffles itself by pressing his mouth against your shoulder, "Talk to me, y/n, please?"

"I had the worst week ever here, without you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You just shake your head no, holding onto his waist tighter than ever. You feel him nod. His calm aura pulls you in completely, feeling like walking into hot building during snowy, cold winter. Your cheeks warm up, pressing right below his neck, his body warmth transferring itself to you.

"It's lowkey weird." You choke out, coughing right after because of how stuffed your poor throat felt.

"What is?"

"You comforting me while I'm sitting on a toilet seat."

You manage to let out throaty chuckle to light the atmosphere up, however, you can't help the warm stream of tears flowing right after.

"Want to move it to the livingroom?" Minho pulls out of the hug slightly, setting his gaze at your red face again and your eyes make their way to the floor. You still haven't looked him in the eyes, not even once, as you're scared of the wave of guilt that will follow. As if the one you're feeling right now isn't enough. You feel like a child scared to get shouted at by their parents.

Minho crouches down in front of you and you hum in question, brows furrowed. He only gestures with his hand for you to hop onto his back, already positioning your legs on his hips. You groan but don't protest, you know how Minho is and you know fighting him is hopeless. Wrapping your arms around his next securely and glueing your chest onto his back, you melt into the warmth of his body. He stands up, feeling your breath tickling the skin behind his ear and smiling to himself, noticing how it got much steadier than it was before. He leads both of you out the bathroom and again, the sad view of Minho's favourite vase on the floor, not really looking any similar to vase anymore, hits you, shoving another wave of guilt through your nerves. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on your roommate's shoulder.

"I'm truly, so, so sorry Minho. I never meant to do this, I was just trying to make the place look presentable for you and it ended like it always does." the words left your mouth as quiet squeak, taking another deep breath before speaking again; "Yet you still have to clean the mess I did, like you always do. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you. I failed being your perfect roommate."

"Who said I wanted a perfect roommate?" he asks as you reach your shared couch, carefully laying you on it then sitting by your side, facing you. "You think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I've broken like five vases in my life and none of this was anything I planned, just like you."

You finally find some strenght in yourself to raise your gaze and lock it at his round, dark eyes. And he's right, no matter how intensively you look into them, you can't find even a tiny bit of anger in them, they sparked with understanding and you find yourself feeling bad at even thinking someone this precious could get so mad at you. They were so pure you could see your ugly, messed up reflection in them. Before you could start thinking about this again, his eyes squinted a little bit as corners of Minho's lips curled upwards in the most beautiful, sincere, affectionate smile you've ever seen. You only realised that his hand was placed on your trembling knee when you felt his fingers caressing it softly, sending warm shiver through your whole body.

"What about the flowers? You loved them..." You turned around to take a glimpse of the mess once again but Minho quickly grabbed your chin with only pads of his fingers and made you look back at him. "I'll take over from here, you get rest now."

Just as he was about to stand up from the couch you grabbed him by his sleeve and almost agressively pulled him right into your arms, crashing in the tightest, breath taking hug as you truly couldn't believe you had him by your side. Just when you thought you crossed his boundaries by that sudden action and started to loose your grip on him, he dragged you right back to him like he was waiting for this moment to happen. His heart pressed to yours, he definitely could tell how fast and heavy its beating right now. Both of yours eyes closed, you just enjoyed this such intimate moment, very first one since you've moved in together. Neither you or him dare to make a move in fear of ruining this beautiful scene.

"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, so quietly you're not even sure he heard it. "only you can endure me as your roommate. How are you not tired of this?" Chuckle leaves your mouth but you quickly tone it out in case he responds, Well, I am actually tired.

"Because you're the only one that can endure me, too." He pulls out of the hug, though he doesn't move too far away, being so close to your face you could feel his minty breath on your nose. "I guess it's just the way things go."

Next thing your brain processes is his perfect lips landing on yours in swift motion. Suprisingly they're not rough, not even a little bit, they're so soft you barely feel them at first. Your heart goes up your throat for a mere second, dropping back down the moment he caress your cheek gently with his warm hand, now covered in the tiniest layer of sweat caused by the adrenaline. When your body finally understands what's going on, you lean into him completely, hand going up on the back of his head, tangling into his soft, dark hair and Minho takes is as a sign to continue, now pressing his lips onto yours with more force, making sure you feel them properly. A sigh of relief leaves both of your mouths and you smile into the kiss. When you eventually just slightly pull away from each other, faces still close, you notice new emotion making its way into his eyes, overtaking the rest as he studies every part of your face carefully. It's love. His eyes are full of love. Its so intense like it just have been freed from his chest after months of hiding in the deepest corners of his heart.

There's still so much you don't know about him and there's so much he doesn't know about you, but the gate has opened now and there's no turning back. You don't know what any of this means yet, but you can think of it tomorrow. Or in a month. Or in a year.

For now it's just you and him. And that's what matters the most in the world.