#all my life the thought of vacuuming made me almost cry

[pears-trinkets]

I tried a cordless vacuum today for the first time and.... wdym i can vacuum without almost having a meltdown and wanting to throw the whole thing out the window out of frustration, anger and overwhelm..........

[riddler-green]

Flores para mi corazón.

Summary: You want to spoil Eddie with flowers.

A/n: Hi people, how are you? it's been a long time since I updated so I apologize, college keeps me busy all day long, but! now that I didn't notice but I have requests open! so I'm waiting for your ask with excitement, anyway I will keep writing what comes to my mind.

Warning: Possessive trait and jealousy, fluff!

Words: 870.

Edward was surprised to see you, at the entrance of his apartment, dressed in your work uniform but in your hands, you held a beautiful bouquet made with roses, sunflowers, and some tulips.

 Edward's first impression was jealousy, his eyes were clouded with a possessive venom, in his mind he asked himself several questions, who gave you this bouquet? Why did you accept it? why do you see them with so much affection? he was silent for a few seconds, he did not expect such an audacious courtship from another person to conquer you because you always made it clear that you only had eyes for him. He's jealous, he can't help it-

"Eddie!" you greet him with a playful smile on your part "Look what I brought you," you tell him while still being happy, he opens his eyes completely stunned by what you just said.

Are they for me?" he asks confused, flowers for him? Maybe you had an anniversary today and he didn't know? you hand him the bouquet and enter the apartment as you close the door. Edward holds the bouquets shyly contemplating the flowers from up close. It was his first time seeing them up close, he examined the petals and smelled the fresh scent of the flowers, and he exhaled with a smitten connotation.

 "Thank you so much um" he thanked you and started to sweat, all this caught him off guard, he never thought those flowers you had were for him "Today is our anniversary? I thought it would be in a few months" he comments without leaving the bouquet, holding it closer to him as if someone would snatch it from him if he was careless.

You melt at his nerves, you move closer to him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek, he flinches from the contact laughing softly "I just wanted to give you a gift, a flower for another flower" you opine going to their shared room to change out of your uniform and into something more comfortable. 

Edward is still paralyzed by what just happened, it's like you gave him a whole field of flowers "I don't have a vase, but I'll see what I can do!" he yells for you to hear from the other room, Edward didn't even hide his joy, you, his darling, you gave flowers, to him, the guy who doesn't deserve them. if you had caught him with those flowers when he was depressed he would swear he would cry in front of you.

When you came out of the room with your pajamas on you looked at Edward in the living room, delicately placing the flowers separating them by flower type in a lab tube.

"They look beautiful" you reassure him quietly as he continues to be fascinated straining the roses into an Erlenmeyer flask and the tulips into a Vacuum flask, you found it cute of him and let him put them however he wanted, after all, they are his "Thank you so much" he thanks again finishing placing the flowers, now that the notes look smaller on the lab glassware.

"No one had given me something before you" he confesses with a melancholic voice, you didn't get anything out of it, you don't like to see him sad and immersed in his past, "I thought of you when I looked at them, I knew I had to give them to you" you whisper close to him, Edward's cheeks blushed as always, but he seriously reflects on that fact, he is like a fragile flower that was withered almost all his life until you appeared, his gardener who had the patience to make him reborn again, you loved him, you wanted him despite all his flaws.

"I want to give you flowers too" Edward speaks next to you, both of you are resting on the living room sofa, the television is in the background and you heard him pleased.

"No need Eddie" you curl up on the couch and hug his torso, a comfortable spot.

Edward keeps his eyes closed enjoying the embrace "How romantic you are" he sighs in love wanting to brag to everyone that his partner gave him such beautiful flowers.

You smile at him even knowing that from his perspective he doesn't look at your face, the love the two of you have for each other is so unconditional that it blinds you and sometimes you forget that Edward didn't receive affection in his childhood. 

You sighed from exhaustion, it was worth every penny you spent on the bouquet to see Edward happy, you know him so well that you know he is not a materialistic person, but the intention touches him too much. Maybe you should give him more flowers often.

Edward loved the flowers so much that he preserved them, he studied meticulously how to make the flowers stay alive, some he kept, and the ones that were left over, well...

You are not surprised when at work you see on TV the new Riddler card with some flowers attached as decoration, the presenters say it is extremely disturbing and must mean something malevolent but for you, you just see a romantic gesture from your Eddie.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[zimshan]

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas has always been my favorite secular Christmas song. One of the first CD mixes I ever made (as opposed to tape mixes recorded from the radio) was a mix centered on several different interpretations. Napster et al allowed me to search my favorite Christmas song and listen to several variations from several decades. I took a liking to older versions, preferring the classic 40s big band sound. But the original was and still is the star for me.

As a kid, I found it interesting the song was from a WW2 era film. But it took another decade before I saw the film and the context it was sung in. So the idea of acknowledging a gloomy Christmas with the hope of a better one next year? Well, I attributed to the time of its creation and release. Emblematic of Americans at home and abroad Christmas 1944, a full 4 years into the war.

It held a bold promise:

Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

That in fact ended up being true for many families the next year, as the war ended in 1945.

The focal point was the bridge:

Someday soon we all will be together if the fates allow until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow

It appealed to me so much more than the normal bright and cheery Christmas. It felt more real to me somehow. More grounded. It’s hope filled but the hope emanates from known struggle. I assumed that resonated with audiences at a time when families were continents apart fighting a world war.

In the 50s, Frank Sinatra thought this was too gloomy and had the second line changed to fit the 50s plastic cheer:

Hang a shining star among the highest bough

It’s a symbol of everything the 50s did to 40s music and film for me. Makes no sense? Who cares! Just smile, doll. Yuck.

When Ella Fitzgerald sang the song even into the 60s she sang it the original way. Of course she did.

When I finally saw the film Meet Me in St. Louis years later, I remember feeling rather disappointed. The context of the film did not fit the song for me really. A few rich girls crying about moving away from home because their father got a job in the city. Certainly not the WW2 levels of problems.

I’ve come around to the film after seeing it several times. It’s mostly a marker of escapism of turn of the century slice of life in technicolor during WW2. It almost feels outrageous for the time. And yet the Christmas sequence is one that brings the narrative back to earth, like the context of the time punching through and leaving its mark on the film. Margaret O’Brien’s tears as a symbol of grief and loss in childhood and carry the film as much as Judy Garland’s voice. Would I have tried rewatching it so much if not for the song? Probably not.

Tonight TCM aired an old Word of Mouth segment with one of the song’s composers, Hugh Martin. He tells the story of the song’s conception. I found a copy on youtube:

Long story short, turns out his original idea was even gloomier! It started as just a fragment and he credits several people along the way for why he returned to it. But Judy Garland plays a big role here. When he played it for her, she said she loved the melody but the lyrics were just too mean to sing to a younger sister (played by Margaret O’Brien), the context of the moment the song is sung in the film. He brushes it off with a “sorry Judy maybe next time” until a colleague corners him into taking her criticism seriously. (Yes, a man had to tell him to listen to a woman, even when that woman was Judy Garland.)

He adjusts the song and the resulting balance is not just the focal song of the film but one of the biggest Christmas songs of all time.

I love this story because it shows the affect of others around a songwriter that help shape the final song. We are so quick to attribute roles in film and music to the credits. This person was the songwriter, this person was the singer, this person did the score. Yet creative collaboration means they all have an effect on each other. No one is working in a vacuum.

In this case, the songwriter’s original idea probably would have gone nowhere. But by having several people around him that saw the value in part of it, he continued to work on it. Judy’s feedback alone was not enough. But with a colleague backing her up, he was able to adjust the gloom to a level that happened to be the right balance to meet the moment not just in the film but of the time audiences were listening to it. Today most people recognize the song on its own. Most don’t know the film it originated from. It took on a life of its own. But it’s the result of that creative collaboration the film provided.

[trappedbeautyunleashed]

I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore and I’m scared I’ll never find her… I’ve been in such a bad mental space that I can’t even explain it, it’s so exhausting just to wake up and go through the days motions but I'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. The truth is that I get frustrated with myself about it again and again but i can’t fix it ….I take meds but I’m still like this still? Again? It's not that I feel weak, precisely. It's just this sense almost like - I've already been pushing against this Demon for years now, shouldn't I have gained more ground? I get frustrated because I'm sick of picking up the loose ends and I get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - I lose myself in a matter of months and spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. I stop taking care of myself and therapy gets harder to the point I want to avoid it and I let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off.somehow I start both sleeping too much and not enough. I get panic-attacks just from simple tasks …just the other day I was having one and literally bawling in my car in the parking lot of DG pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when I'm better, I'm embarrassed because how could I let it get that far?!?It feels like I already have done this so many times. Isn't there a way out of it? Isn't there a point where I've just... finally won? that it never happens again, that I just get to be done? maybe this is weakness that I often feel but comes to a point where I am used to it so I forget exactly how hard it gets. Do you even know how many times I’ve laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and try to drown out the thoughts with music as I lay there crying out to God- I can't anymore. I just can't. Im not even really upset just broken and lost…”It's okay” I hear but in that moment all I feel is that I’ve been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful until the darkness took over .... I'm just... done. Do you know how many times I wake up and I say -I can't and put my feet on the floor and said I can't, I don't want to and literally forced myself to get up and take a shower, feed and dress my kid but it’s just to much work to make my own so I just don’t won’t eat that day. I put a nice playlist on and try to dance it out but I really can't and it sucks because then the thoughts start suffocating me there is no end to this and I go to my appointment and I called a friend just to get no answer,I made myself coffee even if everything tasted like ashes and decided that I really should wait for the new album from that artist I love and i thought I can't, it's not worth it and then I washed my hands and dye my hair,drank more water and wrote some gibberish,signed up for some fancy Mom group that I’ll never really attend because by the time it comes around my mind and body say I just can't, i try to fight back like I’m at war…I can't, I won't do this again, and I paid my rent but haven’t vacuumed or sweapt all week but still made myself eat something fresh and healthy even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of carrots just because they looked delicious and do you know how often I closed my eyes and thought this is it I really fucking can't anymore seriously something has to give and I have nothing left that this “illness” can take but then I force my eyes closed till I finally drift to sleep and morning comes and I wake up and realize I survived another day anyway.

#keepgoing #mystoryisntoveryet #mentalhealthisreal #dontsufferinsilence

[deathbypixelz]

Screenshotting my original tags because there's some thoughts I want to get out.

I stopped watching the show in season one because I wanted this to happen so badly but I was so afraid I was just gonna get burned again. Or that it wasn't going to be good, though that was a much lesser fear. If anything knowing how well Fortiche could animate this made the first fear worse.

So yes I was watching the tags from the sidelines waiting to see if what I wanted so fucking badly would happen. I'd settle for a kiss, because even that is too much for most shows, and I was hoping for a sex scene on top of that. And then when it did, and then AGAIN, I wasn't ecstatic like I thought I'd be. I was just kind of... sad. And it took me until this morning to figure out why.

This is really, really good. It's short but it's really good. This is what lesbian intimacy and lesbian sex looks like. And I have never. in my life. seen it done so well.

And I have no idea when I will ever see it done so well again.

Animating characters touching AT ALL is EXTREMELY hard to get right, so I've heard. Let alone intimate touch. I mean fucking DRAWING IT is a struggle at times. And seeing just how fucking well Arcane does physicality and touch is, again, what made that first fear of mine worse.

I'm sad because I know now this is all we're getting of them. Even if there's a season three, why would they spend the time on a second sex scene? You know?

I wanted to see people like me loving like me and I got it. And I'm almost certainly going to cry over it later today. This is all I've wanted for years. And to an older lesbian who's seen the lack of real depiction for longer than I have, I can't imagine how this might feel.

When will I ever see it done in so beautiful a show, so honestly, with so much care, and with so much respect ever again? I don't know. And that's what's making this hurt in a weird way. It sounds shallow in a vacuum but I wish we could see them like this again, and again, and again, and again. Or any other pair of lesbians in this show. It really doesn’t matter to me.

I just want to see people like me -- really like me. It's all I've wanted for years. And I saw myself in these gifs. I have never seen myself reflected back like this. I have never felt this way before in my life. And as I'm typing this, I'm crying now.

...

I just wanted to say this and get it out of my brain. I'm going to channel this ache for more into art of my own. I hope the next time isn't too far away.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LESBIANS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[herdreamywasteland]

Her

Note: I do not allow my works to be copied to another site or translated without permission. Please message me if you would like to translate or podfic my work. Comments and Reblogs are adored, constructive criticism is allowed, and hate or negativity will be swiftly and efficiently dealt with.

She was born at 7:52 PM, with meconium in her throat and unmoving limbs. The nurses whisked her away to vacuum her lungs and place her in an incubator that didn’t work. What a lovely way to start life. 

When she was a baby, she cried all night. She didn’t eat or sleep, and threw up everything she was offered. It was a miracle she made it to one. When she woke up and wouldn’t go back to sleep, her father would stand outside and rock her, looking up at the stars. It was the only way she would close her eyes and stop wailing. She loved stars. 

She still does. Every time she wants to disappear forever, she looks at the stars, and knows she is alone. And that is comforting. 

She was the child that always had the sniffles, missed birthday parties because of the stomach flu, and slept through half of kindergarten. Every time she would go to school, she would get sick by the end of the month. She was almost held back in fifth grade, because her attendance was terrible.

In sixth grade, her and her friends predicted the apocalypse. January 1, 2020, the world would end. And she looked forward to it. January 1 came and went, and nothing happened. She was disappointed, but she was sure the apocalypse was just delayed. February came, and nothing happened, except for Valentine's Day, which she hated. Then March. 

It was the last day of school before spring break. She made sure to hug all her friends. The weather was balmy with the sun dappling the ground. It was too warm for March and several of them made jokes about how it felt like the first day before summer. 

At first, an extra week of spring break sounded fun. Just because some virus was getting people sick, didn’t mean she and her sister couldn’t wreck more havoc. One week turned to three, three to six, and six to unknown.

She was tired of her sister, she was tired of her dad, she was tired of her mom, and she was tired of life. So she decided to do something about it. And that something was stupid. 

She got caught the first time, so she learned to hide it better. Her parents made an appointment with a therapist, and she didn’t want to go. She wrote out three escape plans, analyzing the risk, benefit, and challenges of each one. 

In the end, she decided to go.

His name was Paul, and he looked like a grandfather. He was soft and smelled like cologne, the kind of cologne that seemingly every man over 60 wears. She felt bad telling him why she was there, so she made up stories. 

Demons in the walls, seeing things that weren’t there, crying all the time. Everything had a kernel of truth, because that’s how the best lies are told. And she didn’t get better.

She got worse, and by December, she was still sick. Now her thighs hurt all the time, but she was better at hiding the pain, better at hiding the dumb things she did. And it felt good. Good to lie, good to hurt, good to be worthless. 

Everyone told her she wasn’t alone, and that was the problem. She wanted to be alone. Nobody would let her.

Then, her mom decided Paul wasn’t the right fit. She got sent to a lady, Maria. Maria was nice, a mother who didn’t worry too much about doctor-patient confidentiality, as long as she didn’t name names.

The girl liked Maria, and told less fabricated truths. Words that were true, but not the whole truth. 

She knew she was going to hell for lying so much, but she didn’t care. If anyone knew what she thought, she would be in hell anyway. 

Maria called another woman, Ramsey, to look at the girl. Ramsey diagnosed her with issues. Phobias and depressions, lack of one chemical, too much of another. It was almost funny how perfect it was; a sick brain for a sick body. 

She didn’t listen too hard, as she was busy reading the patient files that Ramsey had left open on the computer. 

Really, it was a stupid thing to do. Now she knew all about an autistic boy who tried to kill his mother, and a mousy girl who jumped at every sound. 

They put her on medication, but the medication made her worse. They pumped her chock full of serotonin, but that just made her want to hurt. Not herself, others.

The serotonin was a bad idea, so they gave her another medication, and upped the dosage to astronomical levels. They decided to treat her brain, even if it meant killing her liver. 

It’s 7:52 PM, over 15 years later, and she’s still just as sick as the day she was born. 

But when it gets too bad, she goes outside at night, just like her father taught. She goes outside, and stares straight up, till her neck hurts. 

She stands like that, glaring up at the pinpricks of stars, and knowing she’s all alone.

And that is comforting.

[letters-between-friends]

a bright but sunless morning

Hi Ana,

I’m writing this during a sunless morning in Perth. It’s winter so the sun rises so very late - meaning, it’s 6:30am but it’s still pitch black outside.

Uni is about to resume for me in the next couple of weeks so I’ve been trying to get my affairs in order. From my work, to my academics, and most importantly these days, my finances. There’s also a great opportunity I really hope to get at around the end of July so let’s keep our fingers crossed! 

So many fidgety things when it comes to adulting, but I think you’re right. While we are not exactly where we want to be, we do have plenty of wins to celebrate. From being those broke college girls who would share a sinigang meal (and maybe splurge on a bottle of beer) at Copacabana just so they can use the karaoke machine for more hours than necessary, we are now able to do so many of the things we’ve wanted to do for years.

We’re now able to date intentionally, travel freely, love (and learn) wildly - all such luxuries I didn’t realise were so important.

I remember giving myself a pep talk last year about how I just need to keep my head down and get through the next two years - but alas, life is too short! I ended up doing my best despite sometimes having to stretch myself and my wallet thin to get better opportunities, move out of home again, to put myself out there in work and in love. I started new hobbies (writing with you included), and just... rediscovered myself and the kind of life I wanted to have in this world.

Especially in this winter cold, I do sometimes miss being in a relationship, but a good friend (who is now happily engaged) told me to cherish these days, because once I am in a real committed relationship, I won’t have the time and space to be completely by myself for quite some time. This makes complete sense, because the shortest relationship I’ve been in was 2 years. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s a whole lot of time.

Thinking about all this now makes me see Los Banos as this distant memory. I understand that the LB I knew and grew up in is very different from how it looks now, but the sentiment has not changed. It was a wonderful place to make mistakes and discover yourself. Be cringe and make friends who would love and accept you despite it. It was a place to laugh and cry and love, and be smart and dumb, all at the same time -- while being disconnected to the weight that adulthood brings. 

How grateful I am to start this day with thoughts of happy days and simpler times! I am in love with how deeply rooted the memories are, and yet not impossible to top. Nothing makes me happier than knowing that while LB almost operates like a vacuum, the real connections we made there transcended the space - and our friendships continue to grow and thrive out of that environment! 

Time check: 7:14 and I’m starting to see a bit of light outside so I’ll end this letter here since I still have to do some errands before pilates - but I do have some thoughts about you turning 30 soon! (How exciting!) I’ll post it in a separate letter, but until then - I hope your days remain bright and sunny!

PS - B* called me the other day and I never thought the word ‘bright’ could be used to describe a phone voice but it was the perfect adjective for it - like an infectious smile but in voice form.

May we continue finding things in our days that brighten up our lives! (And in the same breath, have the courage to say no to things that dull our shine) ❤️

Until next time,

Tabitha

[luccacaca]

"I hate you"

The room was an utter mess. Books and pens thrown all over the floor, clothes that were ripped out of the open suitcase and a shattered vase on the floor. A photo that used to be encased in a frame, now ripped, a ruined, broken wooden frame, shards everywhere. Water that was priorly in the vase spread, soaking the clothes and pages. Flowers, in the puddle and I, standing in the midst of it all, the chaos in the room not even close to the one in my head. Feelings spiraling and more and more negative thoughts poking at my heart. Screaming louder than it all, the same words always repeating in my brain. "I hate you". I couldn't get it out of my brain. The way he spit those words at me before he stormed out. The part of me that was so sure I had been in the right, was slowly creeping away somewhere inside of me as guilt replaced it, making me sick to my stomach with myself. I dropped on my weak knees, small shards of glass and porcelain cutting through the fabric of my trousers and into my skin but I couldn't care about the pain right now. No, in that moment it almost made me feel better. The pain that I couldn't stop because something inside me told me I deserved it. Even when I still couldn't see what I had supposedly done wrong and how the entire situation was not his creation, guilt gnawed away at me. The bitter feeling in my stomach, as if someone had punched me right in the gut, it hurt so bad. I crouched over, pressing my hands on my stomach. I hurt so bad. Everything hurt so bad. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted the endless frenzy of thoughts circling through my brain to come to a still. I wanted the disgusting feeling in my stomach to vanish. It was all too painful to bear. I felt tears running down the bridge of my nose and dripping on the floor that I was facing. Quiet sobs started to fill the almost suffocating silence that the room had fallen into after he slammed the door when he left. Maybe it really was all my fault. I couldn't tell anymore, what was right and what was wrong. Who was right and who was wrong. But it was unfair. It was so unfair. Why did everything end up leading to this? Why can I never manage to keep any relationship upright? Why does it always end in me being hurt. It was so unfair.

When it felt like the world was crashing down on me with all its might and I pretended to be an adult all along, trying to be strong and not letting my emotions show, I just stopped. I didn't want to be an adult and hold back my feelings. I think when I came to that conclusion, that is when I really started sobbing, crying as loud as I wanted to without muffling it anymore. That is when I cried my eyes out until my head started pounding and my eyes had no tears left to spend. I don't know for how long I cried in midst of the chaos but it must've been hours later when I finally got up from the floor again. Weakly pulling myself on my feet. My eyelashes stuck together, tears dried on my cheeks and tired like I was never before, I gazed down on the messy room again. I grimaced before changing my trousers and cleaning up the shards first. Then I stacked the books on the table. Then I threw the clothes back in the suitcase. I cleaned the puddle of water. I vacuumed. Lastly, I didn't bother cleaning up what could wait before I fell on my bed, pulling the comforting, heavy blanket over my body. The sun was up outside, making me aware of how much time had passed since the incident that happened at the evening. Before my eyes fell close, I made a last desicion again. One that I made each time people walked out of my life and always seemed to end up forgetting about. That was not to let anyone this close to me ever again. I didn't want to be hurt ever again. Never.

[forabetterlifethanthis]

100 Days for a Better Life

100 Days for a Better Life

 I really wanted to begin this with a word other than ‘so’, but found the only way of doing this was to explain how I didn’t want to begin this with the word ‘so’.  And look, I did it.  So, here I am, about to explain to you what you probably don’t need and don’t want to have explained to you.  But since you have started, why not consider this a Youtube ad that is just about interesting enough to give another few seconds before you skip. The only difference is that I’m not a charismatic, winsome marketeer telling you what you need to live a hedonistically happy life. I’m also not trying to sell you anything. I promise. The only transaction here is your time for my words. And I truly value your time and thank you for reading up to here.

 So, here comes the why; here comes the what; here comes the when, but perhaps not the where and how. I hope the title goes most of the way to explain my intentions of this and so I don’t feel the need to lay it out explicitly.  I’d rather talk about the reasons, as to vindicate my decision to share this with you. Is it for reasons of ostentatiousness, for possible posterity, or perhaps merely a cry for help? It may well be a trichotomy of the above, but from a selfish angle I definitely feel some cathartic relief from elucidating on the thorny thoughts of my mind. These days, I am feeling the need for mental relief more than ever. I have found myself in the deepest pit of despair and dismay that I have ever excavated to. I have touched the vacuum between living and not living more than once, and it is a truly scary place that I never want to venture to unprepared again.

 Everyone has heard the saying “there is a reason for everything” or “everything happens for a reason”.  I think most people would think this bollocks, as would I if you asked me what I thought of it.  But if you think about it, there almost always is an underlying reason, but often it is so hidden or so inconsequential that it is not recognised.  For example, the reason my Labrador always picks up his food bowl and parade it up and down the kitchen? It may be clear and obvious to him, yet I have no clue to what his rationale is. This doesn’t mean that there isn’t some deep, ingrained reasoning for it. It doesn’t mean that there is either. What I am getting at here is that there are reasons for what I am doing, and these are what I am to bestow upon you now.

 It is only right that I now warn my reader that what you may read may be upsetting to you.  If you aren’t accustomed or are suspectable to talk of the stinking well of depression and deep neuroses, I advise that you clamber out of the well now.  If you do decide to continue, remember that I thank you for your time.

 So, where to begin. Let’s begin with me.  Me is a subject I am very good at talking about.  It brings out the true solipsistic narcissist in me.  That is what I am and I will never dispute it. It is also something that I find repugnant about myself and would change instantly if I could. So now to start off where I started off, and going back to reasons. Reasons to why I am so self-enraptured have become more evident with the more psychotherapy that I have had. A myriad of health conditions have meant that I have had 55 surgeries at the time of writing and probably over a 1000 days in hospital. Such devoted attention from doctors and medical staff may have made little me think little me was more important than in fact little me really is.  Constant medical attention (albeit unwanted) growing up made me focus on myself. That, in conjunction with an all-boys private school education where the social convention is to clamber over others to best demonstrate one’s virility and ableness, probably made me what I am now.  But there’s also a lot more to it.  Chronic insatiability has more than one dimly-lit avenues to it.

 So, there is the first reason for you (and I promise this won’t crescendo into a written 13 reasons why).  My inability to be grateful for what I have, to be constantly comparing myself to others, and to be interminably fearful of my inferiority. I know that there are so many others that feel this exact way and would say I am not special for it.  But, like I said, there’s more to it.  And besides, I am special (just not in the way I (or anyone) would want to be).

 Okay, this second part is a lot harder for me.  For some reason I can talk about anything else but find this really, really tricky to be honest about.  For my own benefit, I will talk about it in facts and with as much brevity as I can.  I was born with a very rare congenital condition that gave me deformities in the eyes, nose and ears.  Most notably, my eyes.  Put very simply, I have had vision ranging from pretty good, to shit, to normal, to acceptable, to none at all.  At present, I find myself palpably close to none at all. The condition has necessitated the 50+ surgeries that I mentioned, and a whole lot of internalised screaming. I have found the needing to adjust to different levels of vision very difficult. I have always been visual in my learning and the things I enjoy, that to have it taken away was very hard for me. There was also a lot of pain that went with the surgeries, both mental and physical.  Imagine you were told that you might never have vision again when you went to sleep.  I doubt the emotion you would describe feeling to me would be a particularly positive one.  

 As I now spiral into a future with potentially no vision, I also have the quite frankly horrific situation where I have constant flashing in my head. Even when I am going to sleep (especially when I’m going to sleep), there is an incessantly invidious flashing. In confluence with this, if I go from a light setting to a dark one, the flashing becomes so pervasive that I get searing headaches that I can only describe as having Jupiter’s red spot gyrating behind my eyes.  I hate to be self-pitying, but it is truly horrible and I don’t know how much longer I can live with it.  I could talk about the causes of it but I fear I may have bored you enough already. Given that the attention span of the modern-day youth is supposedly less than ten seconds, I am doing extraordinarily well keeping you here so far.

 So, so, so.  So now I go on to talk more about pain.  I have another condition that you may or more likely may not have heard of called EDS. It is a connective tissue disorder that essentially gives me chronic muscle pain.  So I am well used to pain.  How can you summarise pain as anything other than the word pain?  I could use a whole array of metaphors and platitudes but no matter how delectably I choose the words, I think that pain is truly ineffable in nature and so why bother trying. It just hurts. A lot. All the time.  Painkillers? Thanks – never thought of them. No, yes.  I am and have been on every painkilling medication from Valium to codeine and steroid injections to antipsychotic sedatives. They do help. But they also make me hungrier than the very hungry caterpillar and not in a way that solicitates a productive day.

 I now read this back and realise that there isn’t really actually that much more too it than that. Just pain.  Mental pain and the feeling of never getting better, never being able and forever being disabled and undesirable.  And before you say “things always get better”, I have been waiting for things “to get better” for ten years.  When can I say that that is long enough?  I get physical pain that keeps me in bed for 12 hours a day, and that is on one of the good ones.  Its just pain, and its just nasty. It is unescapable and inextricable, implacable and unassuageable.  Believe me, dear reader, typing this is a mammothian effort on my wilting will. Please don’t begrudge me some placation of my symptoms through words.  t feels good to me, if not anyone else.

 So I hope this goes some way to explain the why.  Now for the far more sticky ‘what’.  Before I begin with this part, I would like to ask my dear reader a question.  And please believe that I am not depicting myself here, and please give an honest answer to yourself:

 if you were presented the option of a life with chronic, debilitating pain, as well as being blind and deaf, and then the option of no life. Which would you choose?  Would your decision change if there was a 50% chance of being cured in the future, but 50% chance that you would remain in the same state perpetually?  The easy answer that most would give if asked in an open environment would be a ‘yes’ towards life.  But if you truly put your personal life into such a context, I think you will find your perception shifting slightly.  Think about the things that you would lose, the people you would no longer be able to engage with the way you have always done, and the unwanted changes you would have to make.  I think if you were presented with someone and told to make the decision on their behalf, the decision may well be different than if it were you who had the outcome resting upon.  Is the kinder option to allow a person a way out, or to engender them into a pain-filled life just to satisfy those around them?  My aim, by the end of these 100 days, is to shift your perception or your beliefs of what life and death should look like.  To try and question the often obdurate view that enforcing life is always the right option.  I am not trying to change your opinion.  Merely your perception from a very sclerotic societal narrative to one more amenable, and one more kind.

 For me, I am going to be attempting to get all the medical help and treatment that I can over the course of the next 100 days. By which time, I hope to have established what hope there is for me in the long-term.  If I feel I am in the same position then as I am now, I will seek legal euthanasia options abroad.  “Don’t be so selfish/silly/ridiculous” I hear you cry. Well, be it selfish, silly, ridiculous, your expectations of how I should live shall not control me. If there is a better life than this, I will find it.  If there isn’t, then please allow me my peace.

 And there it is, and that’s all it is, really. It is complex and straightforward, meaningful but without any real consequence.  Remember, in the long-term, we are all dead  It is the way we live and die which we should be allowed to control.

 I invite few, if any, readers to join me in my intrepid journey to finding some solace and serenity, wherever that may be. You are probably pondering why I decided to share this publicly. I will endeavour to explain this in the days and weeks to come.

 And just to add, to anyone who thinks the sharing of my honesty in my unique situation should be silenced for the convenience of your misguided societal expectations, then, as the human you are, you sicken me.

[angelofthenight]

Last Man Alive Pt.4

(Dano!Riddler x Reader)

(Link to list of chapters)

Warnings: Edward is a yandere, Dark themes, Mention to ptsd, Extreme grief, Reference to torture, Sexual reference, Male rage

(She/Her pronouns, YN is referenced to being wlw)

Word Count: 2.1k

(B/l) = Boyfriends last name

~

“-the video is very disturbing.”

(Y/n) slid her hands off her face to cross her arms across her chest, her eyebrows furrowing. The channel displayed a vertical rectangle screen, like a video from a phone, of a close up of a certain white painted question mark on a green fabric material.

(Y/n)’s arms slowly fell, her eyes widening with a haunting shadow, her lips parting. PTSD zapped through her senses from recognizing that question mark. She never felt so triggered by just simply looking at a punctuation.

Then she heard that heavy breathing, the breathing that echoed through her dreams like it was the wind. A chill shot down her spine from the familiarity and sudden flashback to the night that beat of breath was the only thing her attacker uttered.

“Hello people of Gotham,” his voice eventually said in a tone that sounded altered slightly, “especially to my special somebody, I know you know who you are~” That bone-chilling voice said with a flirty tone that a boyfriend would use to sweet talk his girlfriend.

(Y/n) wanted to scream a ‘fuck you’ at the television but felt a nonphysical punch to the gut when the camera tilted upward to reveal the mask that dictated her nightmares and paranoia. “This is the Riddler speaking.”

She almost felt shamefully humiliated by the fact that monster gave himself such a name, like this was all some stupid game of make belief.

“On Halloween night I killed (B/n) (B/l) because he was not who he pretended to be.”

God, just hearing him utter the name of the life he cruelly took made her want to tear her own skin off.

“But I’m not done. Here’s another.”

(Y/n) felt everything be sucked out of her like a brutal vacuum, falling to her knees almost instantly. Her knuckles hit the ground as her jaw hung agap. The camera traveled to the view of a topless girl tied to a chair with a cage full of rats pressed against her chest, the news blurred where you could see the more private parts of her chest. Tubes that led out of the chest cage ended at a cage around (R/n)’s head.

Her eyes were pink with overflowing tears and a piece of duct tape, with the red writing of ‘SHE’S MINE’ across it, was strapped over her mouth. Her mewls and sobs were limited to muffles. Her brows and forehead were shining with sweat, baby hairs sticking against her face.

Although she was crying her eyes out in fear and distress, her gaze was held in a fiery glare directed to the man behind the camera.

(Y/n) felt so detached from her body, she couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not, blinking or not, dreaming or not. She wanted to pause the world, just for a few seconds, so she could recollect herself. But no, this real life nightmare kept going, at a speed that was too fast for her to handle.

“Things like this pathetic rodent you see here are the true monsters that hold my beloved back. So I will kill again and again and again until there is no one left remaining to hoard my beloved from me. And then I can FINALLY,” he screamed, shaking the camera as (R/n) squeezed her eyes shut as her nose crinkled, “use my love to heal her from the pain these savages put her through.”

This man’s delusion was riddled with fixation, that was the realization that birthed into (Y/n)’s numb mind. She really had no idea, up to now, who she was exactly dealing with. This was a demented psychopath who really thought he was helping her.

He thought she was his soulmate.

And that was the most dangerous thing an insane, lonely man could think.

The Riddler’s anger warped into sickening excitement as he stretched his arm out to fit both him and (R/n) in the frame. “Goodbye~!” He said goofily before fumbling with the camera to turn it off.

(Y/n) didn’t scream and no tears slid down her cheeks. Her breath was so quiet that if someone was next to her they’d think she stopped breathing. Her eyes were burned open as her head spun.

She felt like a part of her just died.

Like some of the traits that made her her had just rotted away to a black crisp.

The news channel hosts started talking again with freaked out expressions, but no sympathy was behind their facade. She knew the media wouldn’t care too much about this whole dilemma because to them the new serial killer was just targeting no one special or famous. Who knows how much less they would care if the Riddler didn’t broadcast his dark messages and showcase his torture setup.

He was only going after people she was close to, so the city probably didn’t give a shit at all as long as it didn’t affect them. And that was the thing that sucked the most.

~

Edward Nashton turned the camera off and swung his head over to (R/n) with bright eyes behind his glass lenses. “How was my public debut?”

(R/n) glared down at him, unimpressed with his attempt at conversation while she had duct tape around her mouth.

“Speechless, I see.” He giggled out before pushing himself off the ground to a standing position. He walked over to his overly messy desk and took a seat, leaning over his desk to look up at a cutout image of (Y/n). She was in a fancy suit and had her hands on her hips with a cheesy smile spreading her lips. He took the gem of a picture from (B/n)’s apartment.

He smiled at the picture with dreamy eyes, looking like a tween girl swinging her legs in the air on her bed while she texted her crush. “I hope (Y/n) got to see it, see me. Oh I wonder what she’s thinking right now.”

He spun in his chair with his back leaning backwards, the chair going ‘round and ‘round as he sighed blissfully. “I feel like I just made the dream that every girl has come true for her.” He stopped the spinning by slamming his foot on the ground, right at the moment he was facing (R/n). “A knight in shining armor slaying the dragons that keep her locked in her tower.”

(R/n) snickered at his statement against the tape, the apples of her cheeks lifting up in a smile. Edward’s brows pinched together at this, confused as to why she was laughing. He told himself to just ignore it and get to the execution but his fragile pride and insatiable hunger to know all the answers in the world was much stronger than his willpower.

He hastily got up from his chair and stomped over to his seated victim, sticking his gloved fingers through the cage to pinch off the duct tape over her mouth. (R/n) took a breathy laugh once the sticky material was ripped off her.

Edward positioned his face close to the cage, a hateful stare seen through his eyeholes. “What’s so funny?” He asked through a gruff voice.

(R/n) smirked with tired eyes, shiny trails of her previous tears still evident on her pink cheeks. “Is this a riddle? Because I know this one. You.” She leaned her head a little forward with an amused look to make what she said sting more.

She couldn’t see him clench his jaw in rising rage behind his mask, but she could hear his heavy huffs from trying to control his temper. She kept her mocking expression on, “You’re just a pathetic loser who has never felt the touch of a woman. You’re a freak. You’re the most pitiful, miserable thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Just look at where you live! Look at what you’re wearing! Do you really think you’re going to sweep (Y/n) off her feet? Do you actually believe you’re both in the same league? Do you seriously suspect that you’d ever get the chance to hold her like I’ve held her?”

Edward’s eyes flaming with hatred widened like saucers.

(R/n) smugly smirked at the reaction, deciding to continue and not caring if she was digging her own grave by now. “I was her first kiss, ya know. When we were curious kids.” Edward’s breath hitched through a sudden gasp, not knowing that fact about his beloved. He placed his hands over her forearms, gripping the skin until it was white from pressure.

“I was there to comfort her after she lost her virginity. We’re each other’s diaries, we cuddle, we live a domestic life together, I wipe her tears, I make her smile, I make her laugh, I make her blush, I even make her wet.” (R/n) egged on with a smirk but Edward let out a shout of anger as he slammed his fists on her arms and whipped his body around so he wouldn’t have to look at her anymore.

She bit her lip to prevent a pained wince. “Does it drive you crazy that I’m the embodiment of everything you always wanted to be with her?” She said through clenched teeth until a small smile appeared on her face, her head tilting in mockery. “In fact, I think I’m her actual soulmate. Both romantically and platonically.”

Edward was excessively fuming over the fact that this animal dared to use the term that defined what he and (Y/n) had. His gloved hands bottled into fists, his body begging for an outlet to take his rage out on. His fists shook before he let out a burst of fury through a growling scream, hunching over like a human turning into a werewolf. He thrashed his arms across his coffee table in violent, uncontrollable anger. All the papers and trinkets and cups slid off and crashed onto the ground.

(R/n) flinched and looked in nervous regret at the dinosaur-like temper tantrum before her. Edward growled out more huffs with his hunched back facing (R/n). He then straightened his posture and took a deep breath, smoothing out his jacket and fixing his glasses. He turned around in an unsettlingly calm state. (R/n) just knew he was smiling under that stupid mask of his.

His quick switch between emotions was enough to uncomfortably ease her into an anxious, unsettled frown.

He strolled up to her before leaning down to her eye level, his hands resting on his knees. “Do you have any last words before the rats seal your fate?” He asked in an excited tone, shaking his head with sick amusement.

She was going to stay quiet, feeling as if her ruthless teasing already sealed her a much more painful death. But she would never in a million years let this psychotic maniac get the last word in. “I do.” She said before a gulp, holding her cold stare on him. “She may be ‘yours’ but just know… she’ll always prefer me.”

Edward was painfully quiet, just staring at her through his eyeholes and clear glasses, not knowing how to respond. His line of vision casted down to the rats running around in the cage. ‘How fitting, the rodent being eaten by its own kind.’ He said in his mind as a smile etched across his face in a crazed fashion.

~

It’s been three days since they found (R/n)’s dead body with a face eaten to scraps. (Y/n) could barely function as she had to identify her body, she held back desperate tears and pressed her lips together because she knew if she took an inhale through her mouth she would just choke out sobs.

But as she looked at her best friend’s chewed up face, she kneeled down to take her cold limp hand in her latex gloved ones. She held in her breath intensely as she squeezed her lifeless hand so tightly that if she was alive she’d be wincing in pain. (Y/n) clenched her jaw to make sure she didn’t start crying from her glossy pink eyes.

“I swear to you, I will find this riddling bastard and I will make him pay. I will hunt him down and make sure he will not come out unharmed by all this. He will pay.” She whispered down to the most important person in her life.

(R/n)’s body was pushed back in her spot in the morgue, (Y/n) turning away with a determined look laced in her features. She felt like she had a whole new outlook on life. (B/n) and (R/n) wouldn’t want her to sulk around all day and let herself die slowly on the inside, they’d want her to be strong and push through the pain.

So that’s what she was going to do. She wasn’t going to let the Riddler get the last laugh.

-

Taglist: @kpopgirlbtssvt @frankiethedarkangel @chezzywezzy @21stcenturywitchcraft @phinnyizcool

(Lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist💖)

[gaysimpsstuff]

can you write a drabble of s/o age regressing after a scary situation and maybe hawks or dabi (whatever you feel) hugging them and just general fluff and comfort? I totally understand if you don't wanna write this so no pressure!!

Yeppers! As someone who experiences something similar to age regression/ little space, this will be based on my own experiences

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Type: headcanons/drabble

Warnings: Age regression/little space, crying, Manga spoilers for Dabi's backstory, reader being adorable

Other: I'm not %100 sure if I'd call my experience 'little space,' it's something that only showed up in the past year or so. Also, I usually only go into 'little space' when I'm very happy or comfortable or I'm doing something childish, and even after talking to people who actually age regress, I'm not sure what to call my experience.

Fluff Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore @popcatx0

Touya Todoroki/Dabi-

I feel like he doesn't understand it at first; like mans has never even heard of people who age regress until he met you.

When you first mentioned it to him, he was so confused.

"Okay so- hang on what?"

The first time you actually do it in front of him he literally has no idea what to do, he's so confused and probably more scared than you are.

He has the best intentions, but he did lock you in a room and call Toga for advice when you started to cry.

When you got big again, you were pissed.

And reasonably so.

It took a while, but he eventually got used to your little space and figured out what to do when you did this.

There was a point where he tried to deny how cute he thought it was- you acting like a child and doing childlike things.

He uses it as an opportunity to atone for the things he did as a child to his younger siblings, and as a way to feel like he can actually take care of something.

"Y/n, I'm back!" The door swung shut behind him as he stepped into your apartment, looking around, he couldn't see you. The whole place was a mess, books torn off their shelves and even some broken dishes in the kitchen.

Dabi frowned, he'd seen your apartment like this a couple of times before, usually what happens when you absolutely can't take it anymore.

He peeked inside your room, finding you sprawled on top of the sheets with your clothes still on, fast asleep.

He wished you'd called him, he knew he told you he was on a mission and not to bother him but if you had called he would've dropped anything and everything to appear by your side to comfort you throughout whatever caused this. He crept into your bedroom quietly, pulling the blankets you had kicked onto the ground up and over your body, turning the lights off.

He sighed, grabbing the broom and sweeping up the glass from the broken plate, and throwing it away. He put everything back in its place, even vacuuming the carpet so it was nice and soft when you woke up.

He was just finishing wiping down the counters when he heard you coming out of the bedroom. He turned his head to see you waddling towards him, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"Touya?" you murmured, looking up at him "What are you doing here?"

"I live here too, y'know, it's only natural I come here in my free time," he explained. He felt your arms wrap around him, face pressing into his back.

"Warm..." your voice was soft, and he had to stop himself from burying his face into his arms to escape from the pure ball of cuteness that was hugging him. "Wanna cuddle."

He glanced over his shoulder at you, finding you staring up at him with a pout on your face, oh yeah you were definitely in 'smol mode' as he sometimes called it.

"Wanna cuddle, hm? Sorry baby you gotta wait until I'm finished cleaning."

"Nooooooo" you whined, slowly sliding down his body until you were clutching his leg. "Want cuddles!"

"Just let me fini-"

"Do that later! Cuddles now!"

Dabi chuckled, pressing a hand to his face.

"I can't- I just can't you're too cute like this." He shook his head, laughing now. "Okay fine, I'll cuddle you ya clingy lil baby~"

"Yayyy!" you were on your feet a moment later, arms in the air, giggling "I wanna wear your coat!" you pointed at his jacket, and he chuckled again, shrugging it off his shoulders and flinging it onto your back, helping your arms into the sleeves that were just a little too big for your body.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, looking down at you, he only saw pure love and admiration staring back up at you.

He had to protect this little bundle of joy in his life, this human that made him feel so happy, he would never let anything bad happen to you. When you were big again, he'd ask you what happened, and he'd make sure you'd call him if you were ever stressed.

But he did like the adorable faces you made when you were little.

Keigo Takami/Hawks-

He's a pro hero, he's done his research; so he knows what 'little space' is before he meets you.

But I can promise the commission probably made it seem like something gross, but you're his partner, he knows you're not some horrible person, so maybe he understands age regression wrong.

So.

Many.

Questions.

Like constant questions- it almost feels like he's interrogating you, like seriously it's getting old, Keigo

But he's so precious you kind of have to answer his questions.

Like Dabi, he finds you acting little to be the most adorable thing in the world, sometimes he leaves kid's stuff around the house hoping to trigger your little space so he can hold you and play with you.

He thinks of it as practice for when the two of you have children

The one day Keigo has off, to regrow his wings, all he really wants to do it sleep. Just lay in bed, wrapped up in his blankets and just dream and nap and snore and do nothing.

But little ole you had other plans.

"Keigooooooooo!"

The blonde bird boy shot upright in bed upon hearing your distressed call. He sped down the hall into the living room, panicked, only to find you sitting on the carpet with a box of crayons next to you, a coloring book open, page half filled in.

You looked up at Keigo with wide tear-filled eyes, shakily holding up the blue crayon snapped in half. Your lower lip quivered as you whimpered.

"I-it broke!" you cried, "I'm sorry it broke, Kei!" Keigo melted on the spot, slightly annoyed that you woke him up for something so small, but also-

Holy fuck you were just the cutest thing in the world.

He hoped your only stress would forever be broken crayons.

"It's okay, Y/n, things break sometimes, you're not in trouble." he cooed, sitting down next to you and patting your head.

"But- but it broke!" you exclaimed, sniffling

"It still functions though, doesn't it?" He scooched the coloring book closer to you, and you pressed the pointed end of the crayon against the paper, coloring the smiling puppy dog's nose blue.

You lit up, a bright smile spreading across your face, you cheered, bouncing up and down and hugging Keigo.

"It still works! It still works, Kei!" he giggled, holding you close to his body and enjoying the way you laughed.

"That's right! There's nothing that can't be resolved!" He pressed a kiss to your cheek, but couldn't hold himself back from attacking your entire face with little kisses.

"Keiiii noooo that tickles!" you giggled, pushing at him gently.

"One more? Please, baby?" he pleaded, pouting a little.

"Okiii!" you sat up, pressing your lips to his, pulling back with a laugh. "Can I have a juice box?"

"Of course," Keigo's face softened, you were just too precious, too cute, to perfect.

He really did hope the only thing you'd ever worry about was the crayon.

[fangirl-writes]

Ghost of You

Calum Hood x Reader

Warning(s): death, mourning, Calum crying on stage. Angst.

Notes: I saw a video on tiktok of Cal singing his heart out to this song so here we are. Not revised, written in one session.

Summary: Based on the song Ghost Of You. 

The boys were hesitant to keep the tour dates after what happened. Everyone needs time and they thought that the space between the accident and the first show wasn’t long enough.

But Calum disagreed. He assured his bandmates that he would have no trouble by the time the show came around.

They were skeptical, argued with him to the contrary, but Calum just looked at them with tears in his brown eyes and said, “Please. Please let me do this. She would have wanted me to do what I love.”

They didn’t argue after that.

Calum woke up the morning before they hit the road facing the side of the bed that would never be filled again.

He can’t sleep there. He hasn’t even made an effort to make the bed, holding on to the last outlines of where you had once been.

The sheets were ruffled and the comforter was pushed near the end of the bed, your pillow was propped up against the headboard where you had been sitting, drinking out of your coffee cup.

The coffee cup that still sat on the bedside table just next to your side of the bed.

A small tear fell from Calum’s eye as he noticed the ever fading lipstick stain on the rim. A subtle, but pretty pink that you always wore. The one that would sometimes stain his cheek before he went out on stage.

He wiped the tear and tried to smile.

Oh, what you’d say if you could speak to him now. “Wipe those tears away, Cal. You’ll be just fine.”

I’ll be just fine. Calum thought. Eventually, I’ll be just fine.

He got up from the bed, not bothering to prepare himself for the day yet.

His suitcases sat fully packed by the door; ready to be loaded onto the tour bus for the next few months.

He always had more suitcases than you did, for obvious reasons. But he swore you could fit everything you owned in that one little suitcase. A suitcase that wouldn’t be used again, and probably wouldn’t leave the closet.

Calum sighed, pushing away the thoughts and walking out of the bedroom. Trying to drown the thoughts of you out, like he always did, trying to think of anything else.

But he found walking down that hallway to make it especially hard.

In that hallway, in those photos, he swears he can see the ghost of you.

The first one hanging there is a picture of you and him that he used to find almost hilarious to behold. It was an older one, back when they were just getting big and he was still a teenager, it was one of you and him, taken when you were just a fan. Someone Calum didn’t think he’d probably ever see again.

But life works in mysterious ways.

The one across from that was the most recent, it was a selfie you took at Michael and Crystal’s wedding. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth and you’d made you eyes cross, Calum was making a duck face, doing the same to his eyes.

It never failed to make him laugh.

Next was your first paparazzi appearance. You joked it was your claim to fame, being followed and snapped in a professional photo with Cal. It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a picture of the two of you walking down a street in L.A, holding hands and decked out in what was probably your laziest outfits ever. Calum had on a dark pair of sunglasses and you were smiling up at him, probably about to crack a joke to get that stoic look off his face.

The rest were either family photos, photos of him and the boys, you and your friends, or just silly pictures of the two of you together.

He tried to walk as fast through that hall as he could, trying to keep the tears from reaching his eyes.

But he couldn’t take them down. It might kill him.

He made it to the kitchen with little resistance and poured himself his own cup of coffee, trying to focus on the upcoming tour and not think about you.

He had deleted social media off his phone. He couldn’t take the constant notifications and reminders and apologies from fans. They missed you too, but Calum missed you an ungodly amount more.

He frowned when he saw the empty vodka bottle sitting on his kitchen counter. God his place was a mess. He needed to at least clean up before he left, maybe that’d get his mind off things.

Put on some music. Yeah, that’d be okay.

He finished his cup of coffee, washing the mug before hurrying off to get the other tasks finished before he had to leave.

He took out the trash, cleaned out the fridge, put away his dishes, swept the floors, vacuumed the floors, cleaned the windows, dusted the shelves.

All that was left was laundry.

He made it to the laundry room easily. But once he was in there, nothing was harder.

He filled a load with his dirty clothes, turning on the machine before tentatively reaching for the basket that held yours.

He blinked back tears when he noticed the old Zeppelin shirt sitting in there. The one that your wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt.

“He’s a rockstar,” your family had said. “it won’t last.”

“I’m in love with him,” you had replied.

Too young, too dumb, to know things like love. Calum thought with a shake of his head. What did they know? But I know better, now.

Calum went through the rest of your clothes, a memory surfacing for almost each one. A old 5sos merch shirt that you’d worn on your first date, not even thinking about it. A pair of music note socks that he had a matching pair of. A pair of skinny jeans you had a love-hate relationship with. A white bra that you had thrown on stage at one of their concerts as a joke, only for it to end up catching on the neck of Calum’s bass.

He smiled at the memory. His entire face had gone bright red and he had looked down at you with an almost scandalized look. The other boys had to stop the song because they were laughing too hard.

He let your clothes lay back in the hamper after he was done. He didn’t see a reason to wash them yet.

But he tucked that old Zeppelin shirt into his travel bag.

He loaded his bags into the back of Michael’s car, ready to head to the bus. Crystal waved at him from the passenger seat, he waved back.

“You got your keys?”

Calum blinked, not even realizing he was going to need those now. “I didn’t even lock the door,”

Michael laughed, pushing his friend lightly towards his house again. “Go get them.”

Calum chuckled back, hurrying to do so.

It hadn’t even dawned on him that you wouldn’t be there to watch the house, that he needed to lock the door. He had already sent Duke to stay at Luke and Sierra’s but locking his door? He’d never even thought of it.

He grabbed his keys before pausing.

Yours were hanging there, too. A keychain with your initials on it dangling next to the keys.

He grabbed those instead.

“You ready for this, mate?” Ashton asked him as he slid into the back seat.

“Yeah,” Calum said, softly, caressing the keychain with his thumb. “Yeah, I am.”

And as Michael took off, looking back at his house, Calum could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of you.

***

The night was going great so far, the crowd was pumped up, screaming and hollering.

Cal had managed to get lost in the music, forgetting about his problems for hours.

Until the song he had been dreading all night.

He almost asked if they could take it off the setlist after he saw it.

But then they’d have given the sad, almost pitying look that they did when they talked about canceling the tour. And he didn’t think he could stand those looks again.

He took a deep breath as the piano notes began. He could do this.

“Let’s see those lights up in your hands,” Luke said, holding his arm up.

Calum reached his microphone and his breath caught in his throat.

Someone was holding a picture of you up. Almost as if they knew.

His eyes darted to a different part of the crowd only to find an even larger poster being held up and illuminated by the stage lights. It read your name, your birthday, and the day you-

Calum looked away again, trying to blink back tears.

“Wow look at all those-” Luke voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Wow, you guys, this is...”

There were maybe hundreds of posters or photos being held up now along with the phone lights.

“You know, this is my first concert without her in a long time,” Calum found himself saying into the mic. “And this way she’s still here. Thank you guys. Thank you so much.”

The fans cried out in response and Calum cleared his throat, saying to his bandmates away from the mic. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Singing the song, Cal hadn’t realized how much it fit his situation until just then. He hoped it wasn’t some screwed up sort of fate that they would write this song and then he would lose you.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” Luke sang. “Dancing through our house...”

“With the ghost of you,” Calum chimed in, mind filled with thoughts of you. He didn’t drown them out this time, he just let them come.

“And I chase it down, with a shot of truth. Dancing through our house, with the ghost of you,”

“Too young... too dumb... to know things like love,” He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks. “Too young... too dumb...”

“You go!” Luke shouted, allowing the crowd to sing the chorus.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” They sang and Calum hung his head back, trying to hide his tears as he listened. “Dancing through our house. with the ghost of you.”

You would have loved this. You would have said that it gave you chills, hearing the crowd sing such a haunting song back to them.

“And I chase it down with a shot of truth. That my feet don't dance...”

“Like they did with you.” Luke sang the last line with the crowd before the stage went black and Calum rushed off to the side of the stage.

The boys followed quickly, wrapping him in a hug after they reached him, and for the first time since you’d been gone, Calum let himself just cry. He didn’t push it down or wipe his tears, he just cried. He let his best friends hold him and he cried.

But just there, like everywhere, wrapped in the arms of his friends, Calum could have sworn he felt the ghost of you.

[jschllatt]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Prompt: (Based off of the song I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys) Clay’s recent fame leads to a difficult decision to be made. Months later, he’s still regretful. You seem to be fine, so why can’t he move on, too? 

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst

Pairing: Dream x GN!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Masterlist

I spent a week on this and idk how I feel about it but I hope you enjoy <3

Clay had been consumed by an overwhelming emptiness, his entire body hollow as the lack of your presence took its toll. 

Two months. Two devastating months had passed since he’d made a grave mistake, and now he was facing the agonous repercussions. He was a mess—anyone could see it. Between his long, disheveled hair, the light scruff that covered his face, and his bloodshot eyes, it was clear that Clay’s mind had been somewhere else. And it had been. Every passing second was a constant reminder of his solitude, causing the emptiness in his heart to evolve into a deep, incessant void, no longer inhabited by the happiness you had ingrained in him just months before. Why? Clay was overcome with a sense of deep regret as a result of your absence, feeling more alone than he ever had before. What could have possibly happened to make him feel this way? To make you leave? The answer was rather simple—he was just too damn busy. 

Clay had dedicated a considerable amount of time to his career, filming or streaming during the little free time he had. As he grew more popular, the time that you had spent in each other’s presence dwindled significantly, each day becoming lonelier than the last. Your interactions with him had shortened drastically—what were once long, lingering kisses placed on your forehead had devolved into chaste pecks, void of any true care or meaning. While you understood entirely that Clay’s career was important, you found yourself slowly losing hope.

You realized it one day as he was filming. 

It was a day no different from the last. Clay was recording a Manhunt video in his office, his voice shrill as he begged his friends for mercy. He was always loud when he filmed, and though you had chastised him for it countless times, he never listened. A loud sigh escaped your lips, going unheard, and you shifted your position on the couch, uncomfortable. Everyday seemed to be the same—each as lonely and frustrating as the last. Clay’s ignorance only fueled your apathy towards your relationship more, and you couldn’t help but find yourself growing hopeless at the thought of Clay being unaware of your unhappiness. Your troubled thoughts continued until a week had passed—a long, grueling week in which you had hopelessly tried to burrow your apathetic thoughts. But you couldn’t. You were giving up. The realization of your unhappiness made a pit grow in your stomach. You knew that you cared about Clay, but you couldn’t keep living the way you were—tired, unacknowledged, pitiful. 

And so, you let him go.

Clay was editing by the time you gathered the courage to face him, your stomach nauseous as you approached his office door. A light knock signaled your presence, and Clay muttered a quiet ‘come in,’ his voice raspy after hours of unuse. Blowing out a breath, you entered the room, your expression sullen upon noticing Clay’s inattentiveness. His eyes were still glued to his monitor, deeply focused on editing rather than your presence. You waited for a few seconds, silently hoping he would pay you any mind, but he didn’t. A wave of disappointment washed over you, though you managed to keep your voice steady as you declared, “We should break up.” Clay tensed in his seat, suddenly fixated on your words rather than the hours worth of footage he was editing. His chair turned with a quiet squeak as he swiveled around to face you. “What?” You sensed the subtle indignation of his tone as he squinted confusedly at your abrupt words. “We should break up.” You were much quieter this time, unable to meet his eyes as your words died silently in the tense air. You wrung your hands together anxiously as you leaned back on your heels, feeling awkward under Clay’s intense gaze. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and dealt with it. Maybe—

“Okay.” 

Immediately, your eyes flickered up to meet his, filled with a silent desperation as you searched his emerald irises for any indication of his intentions. Nothing. 

“Okay?”

Clay remained silent for a moment, his body stiff as he leaned back in his noisy chair. His expression was inscrutable as he stared at you blankly, trying to find the right words to say as he watched your face remain solemn at his confound brevity. His voice was level as he spoke, “I know I’ve been busy lately. We haven’t spent a lot of time together and that’s my fault. I could sit here and promise to change, but we both know I can’t—not right now.” Though you felt your heart shatter, you knew he was right. His job was too important, too time consuming.

A nod signaled your understanding and you turned to leave, feeling overwhelmingly dejected. 

“Hey.” You turned around to meet Clay’s eyes, noticing the hurt that was settled in them. “I hope you know I care about you.” You fought the urge to cry and shot him a watery smile, struggling to keep your tone unwavering as you agreed, “Me too.”

Two months had passed. 

Clay had been struggling. Everyone knew it—his friends, family, even his fans. It was clear that the once cheerful, happy man had become melancholy, suddenly depressed and unable to hide his unhappiness on camera. There had been numerous speculations of why this was, but only few knew the truth. Sapnap was among one of them and had been staying at Clay’s for the past month, creating content with his best friend while simultaneously making sure he was okay. Though two months had passed, Clay was still a mess. Perhaps it was because it hadn’t hit him that day. He had momentarily convinced himself that his career was more important than you, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted so desperately to reach out to you, but assumed you had moved on—another incorrect belief of his. Clay cooped himself up in his home, never leaving unless it was urgent. He had sunken into a deep depression and the only remedy for his pain was you. You. He treated you so poorly. Everyday was a constant reminder of your absence and it was his fault. He could’ve made more time for you, or at least spent the free time he had with you. 

Remorseful thoughts ran through his head everyday, nearly driving himself crazy, and Sapnap knew he needed to get Clay out of the house. 

“There’s a party tonight, I think we should go.” Clay immediately denied the offer with a shake of his head, grumbling to himself. His best friend sighed indignantly, blowing out a breath of frustration before stating, “You don’t have a choice, you need to get out of the house.” Sapnap stood his ground, arms crossed as he stared at Clay sternly. A minute had passed and Clay, aware of his best friend’s stubbornness, gave in begrudgingly, “Fine, but only for an hour.” Sapnap grinned triumphantly, exiting the room with a smirk. He slammed the door behind him, heading back to his room while yelling, “And shave, for fuck sake.” Clay shook his head, cracking a small smile at his friend’s words.

The party was overwhelming to say the least. Bodies swarmed the crowded living room, reeking of alcohol and sweat. Music blared from a speaker, a shrill, nearly deafening melody that was sure to give Clay a headache by the end of the night. The room was buzzing with conversation, every word drowning out in the loud atmosphere. Almost immediately, Clay was passed a beer, and he lifted the bottle to his lips to take a swig. If Sapnap was going to make him stay here, he may as well take some edge off while doing so. A few minutes had passed and he finished the bottle, discarding it in a bin nearby. “I’m gonna go get another drink.” Clay muttered to Sapnap, who was talking loudly to a group of people he’d recognized. His best friend patted his back in response, chuckling as he gave him a playful shove towards the kitchen. Stumbling through the drunken crowd, Clay soon broke free as he neared his destination. He grabbed a beer, opening it skillfully off of the edge of a table, and turned around wordlessly. Taking a big sip, he hoped to free his mind from thoughts of you. Though he wasn’t one to drink, especially when upset, Clay knew that, aside from you, alcohol was the only other solution to temporarily mask his pain. He’d already drank half before he warned himself to slow down, knowing that if he got too drunk, he’d probably do something he regretted. Turning around so he could rejoin Sapnap, Clay nearly dropped his drink on the floor, feeling his heart drop. 

His eyes met yours. And then, he heard the music. 

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathin’ in your dust.

Clay felt his breath hitch in his throat, noticing the surprise in your eyes as you stared at him, astonished. As he stood there, staring at you shamelessly, he regretted it—everything. He regretted how he neglected you, ignored you, prioritized all of the wrong things when the only right thing in his life was right in front of him: you. Memories flashed before his eyes, quick and familiar, yet saddening all the same. The way you smiled at him from across the room when he was filming, the way you held him when he was stressed, the way you spoke to him, softly, while he was streaming to check up on him. Everything.

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

You looked away, suddenly nervous, though the eye contact was all-too-familiar. You felt your heart begin to race as you processed every detail of Clay’s face—from his anxious expression to the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like a mess. But so did you. You mirrored most of his tired, dejected qualities because you, too, were hurting. 

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

Snapping you out of your daze, you felt a tug on your arm. “Hey, you alright?” Your friend asked worriedly. Nodding briskly, you muttered a quiet ‘yeah’ and smiled in a poor attempt to sound convincing. Seconds passed, and you could still feel the intensity of Clay’s burning gaze as your friend tugged you through the crowd, handing you a drink in the process. You dared to look up, instantly locking eyes with Clay, and swallowed thickly. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when he was looking at you like that—desperate, longing. 

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Lifting up the red solo cup to your lips, you downed its contents quickly, eliciting a few laughs and impressed hollers from your friends. You were never the type to drink, but you felt that it was necessary, especially when you knew Clay was still staring at you intently. Downing another shot, you risked glancing up towards Clay, but he was gone. Suddenly anxious as a result of his absence, you surveyed the room. Nothing. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” You said before you could stop yourself, not giving your friends the chance to answer you before you ventured into the kitchen. You tried to dodge the swaying, drunken bodies as you made your way quickly into the room, frowning upon entry. Clay wasn’t there either. You sighed, frustrated, and grabbed a beer, struggling to open it. You nearly laughed at your incompetence, feeling sadly nostalgic despite the humor you found in your struggles—Clay had always opened your beers, then teased you for being incapable. You fought back an onslaught of tears at the memory and sighed deeply, leaning against the table with your head in your hands. 

Secrets I have held in my heart.

“Hey.” Your body jolted at the sound of his voice. Daring to turn around, you felt your chest constrict at the sight of him clutching your now-opened beer, a sad smile plastered on his tired features. 

Are harder to hide than I thought. 

“Hey.” You breathed. Clay passed the beer to your shaking hand, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed against yours. Chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously as he tried to find the right words to say, Clay admitted, “I’m sorry.” A few quiet moments passed, though they felt like an eternity, and you replied simply,  “Don’t be.” You tried to hide the tremor that shook your arm as you took another swig of your beer, noticing how Clay’s face fell in sudden disappointment. What? Did you say the wrong thing? You didn’t want Clay to feel guilty, to blame himself for your failed relationship though it was mostly his fault. Why? Because you cared about him. You could immediately sense the despair that washed over him. And, though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the pure adrenaline from the moment, you hugged him. 

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Clay tensed at your touch, wondering if the beer had gotten to him or if this really was happening. It was. He soon wrapped his arms around your waist, grip purposeful as he tugged you into him. Your head rested against his chest, the steady thumping of his heartbeat in your ear far more of a melodic sound compared to any music you’d ever listened to.

Wanna be yours

Clay swayed the two of you softly, resting his chin atop your head. You clung to him tightly, shutting your eyes as he held you, gentle. “I missed you so much.” You admitted before your mind could even process it. Clay chuckled, lowering his head so his lips were close to your ear, “I missed you more, baby.” You tried to fight the grin that plastered itself on your face as you took in his words, squeezing his torso with such force you were sure he’d explode. Clay went to speak again, caressing your sides so gently you could barely feel it, before being interrupted. 

“Holy shit, there you are, dumbass!” 

Sapnap. 

Clay pulled away from you to glare at his best friend, trying to ignore the shit eating grin on Sapnap’s face as he glanced at you. “My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt...whatever the hell I just interrupted. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, but you clearly are.” Before either of you could respond, he left, shooting his friend a thumbs up before disappearing into the crowd. You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction, noticing the slight rosiness Clay’s cheeks had suddenly sported, embarrassed. “Sorry about that, he…” Clay struggled to find the perfect word to describe his best friend, but trailed off. “Yeah.” You agreed, seemingly understanding what he meant despite his silence. Clay laughed, then. The sound was music to your ears, and when his smile faded, the two of you were serious again. Clay’s hand found refuge in yours as he began to speak, his face solemn as he confessed, “I lied. I can change. I will right now if you want me to—I’d do anything for you.” 

Wanna be yours

You smiled lovingly at the man, interlocking the fingers of his hand that wasn’t already occupied in yours, and pulled him closer to you, wanting him near. 

Wanna be yours

“Deal.”

[dokoni-mo]

Nights Like These || All for One x F!Reader

Summary: You were his favorite.

SFW // not fluff but not angst

Word Count: 2802

WARNINGS: obsessive behavior, toxic behavior/mindsets, manipulation, possessive behavior, all for one is evil as usual, fear tactics, some sensual touching, kisses, mentions of death if you squint, swearing, age gap relationship of you squint, but reader is depicted to be in their late 20s, also the fact I also didn't proofread this one lmao (pls forgive me I was working on this at like 3 am).

A/N: This takes place before AFO became the potato man. This is my take on how he would be like in a "relationship". If you want some PRIME AFO content, however, AND ARE THE AGE OF 18 OR OVER, go check out @nonobadcat 's story A Hypnotic Nightmare. It's one of my favs atm (also, badcat, if you're reading this, i haven't forgotten about the fanart! i've just had a lot on my plate bc of the end of school. im terribly sorry if it seemed like i left you hanging).

~~

You hated armored black vans.

Ever since meeting him you knew exactly what they meant.

They would come to you when you least expected it, and often when you really didn't want them to. You could be anywhere in the world, and one would always find a way to roll up next to you. If you tried to outwalk them, they would just drive faster. If you pretended to ignore them, they would cut you off in your tracks.

Persistent little shits.

Just like him.

This time, it was late into the night when one rolled up next to you. You hadn't seen one in some days beforehand, and was relishing in that fact when the dread-vehicle rumbled up next to you. You had just gotten done doing some late-night grocery shopping for yourself, looking decent but in no way perfect. Sighing through your nose, you gave the tinted windows of the van the glare of your life, trying in vain attempt to get it to just piss off.

Even though that tactic never worked before, it would never stop you from trying.

The van pulled up to the curb next to you and slowed to a stop. Seeing as there was no way you could run or try to ignore it now, you stopped in your tracks, clenching your plastic grocery bags tighter. A moment later, the van rolled it's driver's side window down, revealing the driver to you. You didn't recognize this one; it wasn't one in his normal rotation.

You wondered if he killed one of the other ones, and this one was the replacement.

Looking into the eyes of the driver, you shot him another glare, your face morphing into a frown. This didn't seem to phase the man, however, since he just stared back at you with a blank expression.

You knew you weren't that threatening, but, come on. At least show something.

"What is it?" you questioned the man, your voice firm and serious. Although you already knew the answer to that, you prayed to whoever was listening that it would be a different answer this time.

"He wants to see you."

No dice.

You let out another sigh through your nose, this time more frustrated and annoyed than the last one.

"I just saw him the other day," you tried to bargain, "and I have ice cream in here. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

The driver shook his head, "Sorry, miss. He wants you now."

Your face assumed a deeper frown. It wasn't often that these drivers made it known to you how persistent he was being in seeing you. This made a lump form in the bottom of your stomach. What did he want this time? Another date? Quality time? Or just to remind you of who you belonged to?

You hoped it was one of the former two.

Looking from side to side nervously, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking again, "Can I at least put my groceries in my apartment first?"

The driver shook his head, "We can get someone to do it for you, miss. But we need to leave. Now."

Damn, this driver really meant business.

Finally admitting defeat, you slowly took a few steps towards the van, watching as the large, jet-black doors rolled itself open for you. Leaning down, you set your bags on the clean, vacuumed floor of the van, ducking down and pushing yourself inside next. The driver watched you in the rear-view mirror, making sure that you sat down and buckled your seatbelt. Once you were safe in the backseat, he shut the door to the van and pulled out into the street again, driving noticeably careful.

A soft sense of dread washing over you, you leaned up against the van door and planted your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin in your palm. Not feeling up for friendly chat with the man driving you, you fixated your gaze out the window, watching as the neon lights of Japan rushed by you.

You wondered which location you would be at today.

He seemed to have spots everywhere across the world.

You hoped it was the Tokyo one. That one had your favorite food and view.

Hugging yourself closer to the door, you tried to ignore the dread winding up in your stomach. You tried your best to just focus on how pretty the lights looked at night, but couldn't help but have your mind linger back to the racing thoughts that plagued your head.

You wished your friend had never introduced you to his stupid fucking cult. He would deny over and over that it was a cult, but it was a cult. You had been quirkless for so long, and content being so all your life. But, when your friend told you about the man she met that could give you your very own quirk, you would be lying if you said you weren't intrigued.

Biggest mistake of your entire fucking life.

~~

Alas to you, the driver didn't take you to the Tokyo location. It ended up being the Osaka location. You felt rather disappointed by this.

The driver was at least nice enough to help you out of the car and escort you into the hands of your body guards for the night. The guards quickly surrounded you, almost suffocating you by how close they were. After relaying the message that you had arrived, the guards practically drug you into the tall, looming building.

You wondered when the next time you could go outside would be.

Going through the doors, you were greeted with the familiar sight of clean, shiny marble floors, your feet clacking against them as they always did. Everything about the building was ornate but simple, reminding you of some fancy hotel.

It was so fucking obnoxious.

Only one dude and occasionally yourself lived here. And not even full time.

It make you frown.

Eventually, the guards and yourself made your way to the elevators. When one eventually came down (it didn't take long because you were most likely some of the only people in the building), all of you packed in the elevator like a fucking clown car. You were shoulder-to-shoulder with the much taller guards, suffocating on their cologne.

The dead silence in the elevator made you wanna puke.

~~

The guards left you once you were at the door.

You were now all alone in the hallway, the tall, dark, looming door before you. Your fingertips were trembling, yet you didn't know if it was out of fear or anticipation.

He probably already knew you were here. Why did you even have to go through this step? Just for his sick kicks?

Most likely.

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

You swallowed and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out of your nose. You had to give yourself a pep talk before you could lift up your hand, curling your knuckles to knock on the door.

You stopped before you could knock even once. If there was any time to run, this is it. If you could just-

No. It's impossible.

God how you knew it was impossible.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, he seemed to always know.

You've seen him angry before. It ran shivers down your spine and made you contemplate whether or not there was an afterlife or not.

You didn't want to know how he was like when he was pissed off. Especially if it was directed towards you.

And, you knew, trying to get away from him was a sure as fuck way to royally piss him off.

Taking in one last deep breath, you put on your brave face and knocked on the door, feeling your dread become almost overwhelming in your gut.

You wet your lips before you spoke.

"It's me."

...

Silence.

Your head perked up at the nothingness that greeted you back. Was he not here anymore? Did he leave for a different place without telling you?

You opened your mouth to say something again, but quickly shut it again.

Could you... leave? Go home?

This was definitely a first.

As soon as your excitement welled up, however, you were quickly shot down again from the deep voice behind the door.

"Come in."

Fuck.

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your bravest face, you gingerly opened the door and stepped through, leaning your back against the wood as you shut it again.

Why did you do this to yourself? So willingly walk into the lion's den?

It didn't take you long to remember.

Fear.

Looking inside the room, the lighting was moody to say the least. Barely anything was turned on, and it was so deafeningly quiet, sans the sounds of the city below and the hum of the AC.

Scanning the room with your eyes, you felt your stomach do a flip when you landed on the man of the hour.

The man who had taken over your life for the past three years.

Him.

Shigaraki. Or, as he was known by everyone who wasn't you, All for One.

Probably the most feared man in Japan. Hell, the world even.

Christ on a fucking bike.

He was seated on the couch that faced the door, his usual sly smirk on his face. One of his legs was crossed over the other, and he seemed to had shed his black coat long ago. His crimson eyes bore right into the very fiber of your being, right into your very soul. His presence was so fucking overwhelming it made you feel like you couldn't breathe. The amount of power that dripped off that man was uncanny.

It always made you wonder what he wanted with quirkless little you.

Unable to maintain eye contact with him for any longer, you dropped your gaze to the floor, your back still pressed against the door. Even though you couldn't see him anymore, you could feel his eyes on you, raking up and down your body.

You prayed that this night went by quickly.

"You're late, little one." He said to you, making your shoulders tense up.

"I..." you began, your nervousness painfully obvious as you brushed your hair behind your ear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be."

All for One let out a hum, and you could practically fucking feel his smirk grow bigger from across the room.

You wondered if he knew that you were only half telling the truth, or if he was just that delusional.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"Come into the light, darling. Let me get a good look at you."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hesitated for a brief second, your fingertips twitching against the wood of the door. Seeing no possible way out, you decided it was best to just do what he said. Pushing yourself off the door, you took small, timid steps into the light, keeping your gaze down on the floor. Awkwardly trying to figure out what you should do with your hands, you decided on clasping them in front of you, picking at the skin around your nails.

You could really feel his eyes on you now.

He looked you over for what felt like an eternity before he said something else, making your eyes flicker back up to him.

"There's no need to be shy, my dear," he said, sensing how nervous you were, "There's nothing to be concerned about. You know I would never harm you."

You wanted to snort out a laugh, but decided against it. Yes, he had never hurt you before, but you doubted it was out of his realm of capability.

Not knowing what to respond with, you simply just nodded, turning your attention back to your hands.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you for a good long while, his red eyes lingering on your cute face and nervous eyes.

Fucking hell you were just too adorable.

After a good second, All for One lifted up his hand, making you look up at him. He was holding his palm out to you, his usual smirk on his face.

"Come here." He said.

Shit, he was getting serious tonight.

Your cheeks tinting a faint pink, you forced your feet to raise up and make you walk across the room. Once you were close enough, you put your hand into his, watching it as it was nearly swallowed by the sheer size of his palm. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you slipped yourself in between his long, thick legs and sat back into his lap. Your side was nuzzled into the crook of his armpit, his strong arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place. Just like he liked, you rested your head against All for One's shoulder, gently lying your hands across his broad chest. This seemed to please him greatly, since he put his other hand on your lower thigh, gently rubbing circles into the side of your knee with his thumb.

You must really be fucking insane.

Gently, Shigaraki pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, mumbling out a quiet good girl in the process.

You couldn't stop the pink dust from spreading across your cheeks.

"How was your day today, darling?" He asked you, the rumble of his voice in his chest loud in your ears.

You hummed before speaking.

"It was okay..." you said, feeling the hand on your side gently stroking up and down.

"You had a lot to do, didn't you?" He asked, making you glance up at him.

Of course he fucking knew about your goddamned errands and job.

"Yeah..." you said, "I was expecting to go back home and chill the rest of the night, but..."

Shigaraki let out a chuckle at this. You didn't have to finish your thought for him to know what you meant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one." He said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I know you must be tired."

You nodded in response, maybe a bit too eagerly.

"I just couldn't bear another second without you, darling." He continued, tracing circles on your thigh this his pointer and middle finger, "I just had to have my special girl with me tonight."

You shifted your weight in his lap, looking up at him, "Did something happen?"

Shigaraki chuckled at this, reaching up and brushing the hair out of your face, "Let's just say I had some... family issues tonight, my dear."

Family?

Shigaraki had family?

This was definitely a first.

You couldn't help but to be nosy.

"Family?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing for you to be concerned about, my sweet girl." He said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"You never told me you had family." You pressed, not wanting to let the subject go.

"You never needed to know, small one. Besides, it would be too dangerous for you to meet them anyhow."

"Dangerous?"

"There's a possibly they would try to take you from me."

"I highly doubt you would let that happen."

He chuckled, "As clever as always, my darling."

"What are their names?"

"Let's move on from his, my love."

"But I-"

"Are you hungry, dear? I can have someone fetch you something."

"Shigaraki, I just-"

"I said no."

A shiver went down your spine and you were quick to shut your mouth. You knew what that tone meant. It meant shut up or you get a punishment.

You always just chose to shut up.

Seemingly pleased at your compliance, Shigaraki assumed his usual smirk again and planted a kiss on your cheek, rubbing more small circles into your side.

"Have I told you how radiant you look tonight, my dear?" He asked you.

Not feeling in the mood to talk anymore, you just shook your head no.

"You always look gorgeous to me, my dear. Every single piece of you."

Pulling you closer to his chest, he lifted up your chin and looked deep into your eyes.

"My special girl. My favorite."

Closing the distance between the two of you, All for One pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away. His kisses were always just like him: strong, confident, and dominating.

Kissing Shigaraki always filled you with a whirling of emotions. Perhaps it was because you were tired that night, or perhaps it was because of the air, but you allowed yourself to fully enjoy his kiss. The feeling of his hands on you, the feeling of how small he made you feel, the feeling of his power radiating off his skin...

He always had this affect on you. When you were apart from him, you found it hard to love him.

But, when you were together...

you found it hard to stop.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Subject: BNHA, Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: House Party Bully 4 (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, pregnancy, (accidentally) induced labor, drinking, smoking (weed), obsession, possessive behavior, forced marriage, dick piercings, family trauma, voyeurism, drunk kisses, jealousy

“Avoid,” Touya said slowly, finally, “the others when you can.” It was obvious advice, especially after what his siblings had done to you, but you just nodded and laid on his bed. He glanced at you and sat down beside you. For a moment, you thought he’d rub your back or pet your hair, but he pushed you onto your side, forcing you to face away from him. “Laying on your side is better for the baby.” 

Right. Even if Touya was, arguably, better than the rest of his family, he was just like them: only after the fetus growing inside you and the things that came with it. Milk, whatever prestige fucked up rich families like these got with grandkids, and ownership over you. 

“I’ll get a job,” Touya added suddenly, “a good one, then we can move out.” 

We. The word felt like an umbilical cord around your throat, connecting you to him and the baby you didn’t want. You were choking. But you needed him. Just as much as he wanted you to need him. “Don’t worry about moving out,” you mumbled into his sheets, “I’m sure your father wouldn’t let us.” 

Touya twitched beside you. He seemed to be thinking because he was quiet for a long moment. The mattress caved closer to you. “Hey,” he said, voice soft, “you didn’t like my dad better, right?” 

Something cold washed down your body. Every muscle from your head to your toes froze and curled in on themselves. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You felt him roll over, his back nearly pressed against yours, heat soaking through your shirt with unwanted comfort. He was silent for a moment, like he’d rather drop the subject, but then pushed on to say, “You didn’t like him better when he fucked you, did you?” 

With as much ice as you could muster you replied, “I didn’t like it when either of you assaulted me.” 

That seemed to rile Touya up because the bed shook with the weight of him leaping off it. He grabbed your arm, forced you onto your back, his grip bruising. “I didn’t assault you!”

“Then what would you prefer to call it Touya?” You glared at him, the ice in your body replaced with insufferable heat. “Rape? Teaching a rat a lesson?” 

He backed off at that. “No, it was...” He bit his lip. “Forget it.” 

He made for the door and your rage washed away with panic. “Where are you going?” You may have hated him, but you needed him to keep the hungry mouths of his siblings off you. 

Touya stopped in the doorway and sighed. “I’m going out. The others won’t bother you if you stay in here.” He started to close the door behind him and stopped, one cerulean eye locking onto you. “If you need anything, you can call me.” 

You wanted to say something back, something biting and cruel, but the ugly truth was that he’d saved you and you needed him. Your throat was tight when you said, “Okay.” 

The door shut. 

You laid back on your side. How did Touya bullying you turn into this? You were both just college students and suddenly you’d been roped into his fucked up family and forced to have his fucked up baby. There was a little him inside you. The thought made you sick to your stomach, but you laid there and held onto the sheets that smelled like your captor. The safest Todoroki. What an ironic thought. It was like calling him the least poisonous snake: regardless of which one sunk their teeth into you, you weren't coming out unscathed.

At some point you must have fallen asleep because you were startled awake by your phone ringing. You were too groggy to check the ID and answered. “Hello?” Your voice was weak from disuse. 

“Did I wake you?” Ice ate your bones when you heard the voice. Deep baritone and stone cold. Enji Todoroki continued, “Sorry. I managed to pull some strings with a friend of mine to keep this quiet. Long story short,” he paused, “welcome to the family Mrs. Todoroki.” 

Every word, every reaction, every thought vanished into a vacuum, a vacuum named shock. He’d done it. Any hope of escape after the baby was born vanished just like that. You were branded with his name just as your body would never be the same after it delivered his baby. You couldn’t even muster up the strength to hang up the phone. 

“Rei and I,” Enji continued as if he hadn’t just destroyed your future, “are on our way home now. I’ve got another doctor’s appointment scheduled tomorrow.” 

You didn’t reply.

“We’ll able to find out the gender of the baby,” he said, “Rei’s eager to know but Touya might prefer the surprise. Do you have a preference?”

The blank space that held your feelings erupted. Your preference? Now he cared about your fucking preference? Fuck no. Fuck that. You screamed and hung up, throwing your phone across the room into a pile of dirty laundry. You wanted to punch Enji in his stupid face. You wanted to kick Touya in his breeding balls. You wanted to... You screamed again and this time tears streamed down your face. Defiance leaked out of you with every sob. You were trapped. 

*******************************************************************************************

For the next four and a half months it felt like Enji was keep you away from Touya. He dragged you from appointment to appointment, insisting you stay in your room. Thankfully the other three hadn't so much as knocked on your door, but that didn't ease your anxiety in the slightest.

As your belly grew rounder it became harder to attend classes without people gossiping, especially with Enji by your side. When you couldn't fit into your desk one day it hit you that you'd have to balance Touya, school, and a needy baby. Suddenly you weren't so sure you wanted to attend classes in person.

It didn't help when you could feel it, yes it because Enji had decided to withhold the baby's gender, kicking inside you. It hurt. It was like being bullied by Touya all over again. The thought made you want to cry, but you were in class and simply bit your lip. The baby kept kicking.

After you got home from school, there was a note on the kitchen counter. "Out of town for Shouto's jujutsu match. Back Monday - Enji." The house was empty. You had the Todoroki manor to yourself. Was this your chance to run, while they were all gone?

But the front door opened. Touya stumbled in with his friends behind him. He looked at you, snarled, and walked away.

Toga smiled at you. "We're having a party tonight, feel free to come and bring your friend, too!" She pointed at your swollen belly and giggled following Touya.

Shigaraki and Spinner barely nodded at you. Twice gave you a thumbs up.

So this was how Touya got away with his parties.

But still the party could be your escape. A million cars on the lawn and—

You doubled over grabbing the counter to hold yourself steady. Throbbing pain burst around belly button as the tiny Todoroki inside you reminded you of it's presence. The baby could come any day. And then where would you go? Even if you ran you'd be alone, almost due, without any of your things: including the funds needed to simply give birth. No wonder Enji was comfortable taking off: you didn't have another option to leave without endangering yourself or the baby. Fuck.

Grabbing a snack you went back to your room and went to sleep.

*******************************************************************************************

Pounding base ripped you from your dreams. Each vibration traveling down your body and making every cell electrify. A familiar headache formed behind your eyes. This was just like the party nine months ago, disorienting and loud and fuck... The base was making you sick. This needed to stop. Touya. You needed to find Touya.

Quickly you pulled out your phone and called the number that felt like signing away your soul to the devil. It rang and rang and rang. Nothing. Shit. At least you knew where Touya would be. He could stop this.

You made for the door, wobbling and waddling with that cursed ten pound weight on your stomach. Nausea made it hard to focus on where you were. You wanted to vomit. You used the walls to help keep yourself upright as you descended into the bass, cringing when it started pumping louder.

Just gotta get to the study, you thought, that's where Touya always was with his friends.

Even thought you'd lived here for what felt like the better part of your pregnancy, you hadn't had the freedom to walk around alone. It was so big and twisted and confusing, especially since you could barely move. But you could also remember when Touya dragged you to his room, the smell of liquor on his breath and weed in his clothes.

He'd been terrifying then. An unknowable monster that plagued your school life. Now, he was still a monster, but one you were beginning to understand—no matter how much you didn't want to.

You understood that Touya was a result of his toxic family. You understood that Touya would likely never have normal romantic relationships. You understood that you were now parts of both these things. You understood that none of this was your fault and you didn't deserve any of it. And nothing would change in understanding your situation.

You pressed on, breathing hard, and stopped. God you wanted to sit and sleep, but the bass was an ache in your bones that kept biting you awake. You didn't have the energy for this. You checked where you were and nearly sobbed. Big chocolate doors with ornate handles. The study.

You burst through the doors. The smell of weed hit you before anything, making you double over coughing. Enji’s study was exactly how you remembered it, though the potent smell of weed this time was far worse. It was like your body couldn’t handle even the thought of it, your stomach churning, bile lapping at your esophagus. Voices fluttered through the room overlapping and swelling until you could pull out Touya's, talking excitedly. He cut himself and then started again, "There she is." His words were slurred, messy. He’d been drinking. 

He whipped around, nearly falling over his legs to get to you. A hiccup raked up his body and he burst into giggles. “She’s here,” he said again, “she came all the way down here to see me. Are you enjoying the party, babe?” Touya wrapped you in a foul smelling hug, burying his face in your hair. 

Despite how uncomfortable you were, you couldn’t help noticing how he seemed to be avoiding your bloated stomach. “Turn off the music,” you said, “its giving me a headache.” 

“But the party,” Touya whined in your ear. 

“You and your friends can smoke and drink, I don’t care, but the music has to stop. Its driving me crazy.” 

Whatever happy attitude Touya wore vanished. He dropped his arms from around you leaving you cold. “Its driving you crazy?” He backed you up against the wall, his face inches from yours, a snarl across his mouth. “Do you have any idea how I’ve felt? I’m the one who knocked you up and I barely even see you. We live in the same fucking house! You belong to me and yet you let Fuyu and Natsu suck on your tits like it was their baby inside you.” His blue eyes were fire, boring into you. “The baby isn’t dad’s or my siblings. Its mine,” his fire died out in a moment, head hanging low, the tips of his hair tickling your nose, “even if I didn’t want it.” 

Your mouth fell open. This was his scheme, his plan, to knock you up, keep you at his side and he didn’t even want it? “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Tears exploded out of your eyes, your nose swelling. “You took my freedom, my life, and you didn’t even want it?” Your voice broke into a shriek, “You bullied me every fucking day because you have a fucking crush on me and—and—.” You burst into sobs, whatever thoughts you had died on your tongue. 

Touya stared at you, his eyebrows narrowed. You thought he was going to yell at you, tell you it was your fault for making him like you in the first place. “You know,” his voice was rough, deep, “I always liked it when you yelled at me.” And then his mouth was on yours, teeth against teeth and tongue sloppily trying to enter your mouth. 

You tried to push him off, anger flaring in your chest like a wildfire, but Touya was bigger and stronger. Even drunk and high he was powerful. Another reminder of the night he’d assaulted you. Another reminder that the Todorokis could lord over you however they pleased. 

One of his friends started laughing. “I’ve never seen Touya get this worked up,” it sounded like Spinner, “wonder how far he’ll go.” 

Touya pulled back, spit connecting your mouths. His chest heaved and so did yours as you both took in oxygen. He turned around, smiled. “You just want to see my dick.” 

The others laughed in that way stoners did when they weren’t sure what was happening but they were still enjoying themselves. “C’mon,” Shigaraki laughed, “whip it out, Toga said you got a new piercing.” 

“Gotta get hard first,” Touya laughed. He dragged you to the automan and pushed you onto your back, your head just a foot from where the others sat smoking. The smile on his face vanished when your shirt rode up over your swollen stomach, your belly button flat against the stretched out skin. Slowly he put his hand on your stomach, feeling how taut it was and froze when the baby kicked. 

He met your eyes. “I—.”

“C’mon Touya,” Toga groaned, her mouth stretched into a hungry smile, “show us how you knocked her up.” They all laughed at that. Of all of them, you would have thought that Toga would be on your side, at least telling them off, but she seemed just as into your torture as the rest of them. 

Touya snapped out of whatever thought he was in, smiling that doped out smile again. He wrapped your legs around his waist and bucked into your clothed cunt. 

A high pitched shriek left your mouth. It was just humping and yet your body was reacting to it like Touya had just pinched your clit. The fiery rage inside you turned into a different type of heat. “Please,” you grabbed Touya’s shirt, “don’t do this.” 

He kissed your cheek. “I’m just giving my friends a show,” he smiled cruelly, “rat.” He bucked again and this time you bit your tongue to keep from crying out. "Ah-ah," Touya whined, "you're not allowed to hold back. We're putting on a show." He dug his tongue into your mouth again, careful to make sure you had nothing to hold back your cries except for him.

He roughly bucked against you again, his flat stomach rubbing over your swollen one. His friends cooed and cawed as he humped you through your clothes, his cock growing stiff and swollen in his pants. Touya grunted into your mouth and then pulled off gasping. "Fuck, I want to be inside." He stepped away, clawing at his pants to free himself. 

You tried to get up, run away, but his friends pinned you down, held you for him. 

Touya didn’t seem to notice the assist, too distracted trying to unhook one of the piercings from his zipper. When he finally managed to free himself, you saw the prince albert piercing you’d felt the first time and new ones along the bottom. Near the base of his cock was the beginnings of a jacob’s ladder. 

He crossed back over to you and yanked off your pants with your panties following close behind. He stared at your exposed entrance, a soft drunk giggle escaping his lips. “I don’t think I got a good enough look at this last time.” He kissed your clit and just as quickly bit into it making you shriek. “God,” he groaned, “you’re pretty.” He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in. 

A hiss left his mouth, his hands gripping the automan tightly. “Fuuuuuuuck, you weren’t this tight last time.” 

“Last time,” your voice nearly broke, “I wasn’t heavily pregnant.” 

He smirked at you, “That must be the secret to good sex then.” Touya didn't wait for you to adjust, sliding all the way out and back in, his piercings dragging roughly against your walls. A low groan rippled out of his throat. He hunkered down above you, practically tucking himself into you with his head buried in your neck and stomach against yours. He kept up that rough pace as his friends smoked and laughed. 

You winched when the baby started kicking again. 

Touya froze. He’d felt it, too. He lifted himself up, keeping his cock firmly inside you, and ran his hands over your belly. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face. “Hey, calm down,” he said, “Daddy’s right here, there’s no need to freak out. Don’t be so selfish with Mommy’s cunt.” 

He started up his rhythm again, rougher and deeper. You shrieked when he hit your cervix and then did it again, taking your cries as encouragement. “Stop it,” you begged, pulling at his shirt, “don’t do that you’re gonna—.”

“Gonna make you cum,” Touya chuckled as if he’d finished your sentence for you. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically shoving your already impregnated form into a mating press. Each thrust had your heavy belly bouncing, your swollen tits leaking, your throat raw from crying. It should have been uncomfortable and terrible but the ugly truth was Touya knew how to fuck you well, from the first time he’d assaulted you to now, he felt good. 

He was better than his father. 

Touya growled as he started pumping faster, ramming your cervix harder and harder until—

You screamed. This wasn’t you cumming, this was something different, something old and terrible that had your entire body shaking and flexing at once. Hot fluid poured out of you and onto the automan, splashing the front of Touya’s jeans and shirt. 

He froze, that careless smile wiped away in less than a second. “What was that?”

“Holy shit,” Shigaraki muttered, “I think you broke her water.” And then he burst into laughter. Everyone was laughing, everyone except you and Touya. 

“No,” he whined, “nonononononono. Please don’t, no.” He pulled out of you and tried to cover your entrance but it wasn’t done leaking. “I’m not ready for a baby. I’m not ready to be a father. I don’t want... I didn’t...” He locked eyes with you, fear coloring the blue color of his eyes. Of every expression you’d seen him wear, fear was not one of them: until now. He looked at you like you could do something about it, like you could just hold it in and wait until tomorrow, but the baby was coming and it hurt. 

You screamed again and the stoners stopped laughing. 

“Bro,” Toga said, “I think she’s actually, like, y’know.” 

Touya collapsed on his hands and knees, tears flowing down his face. His chest caved and expanded as he panted. “No,” he kept crying. He crawled across the floor to his phone, quickly opening it and dialing a number. You could barely hear the exchange over your pain, a deep and terrible tearing, but you did hear Touya say, “I didn’t mean to. Dad, please, help me.”

You don’t know how long you laid there curled on your side, sobbing in pain, but the study doors burst open, Enji reeking of cold night air in just a button down and slacks. He looked between you and Touya, sighed, and scooped you off the automan. “We’re going to the hospital, you’re gonna be fine.” 

You did not feel like you’d be fine. 

Touya had sloppily redressed himself, still crying. He followed Enji out into the car. He climbed into the passenger seat while Enji buckled you up in the back. You grit your teeth to keep from screaming again. 

Enji shook the car as he climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled away from the Todoroki mansion. “I warned you,” he growled at his son, “that you needed to be delicate with her and what did you do? You tried to fuck her to impress your friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Touya sobbed. 

“You could have given her, or your baby an infection or worse,” he growled, “don’t do it again next time.”

You tried not to think about that last comment. 

The hospital was quick and efficient, taking you into the delivery room. Your mind was blank as they talked about contractions and potential complications. And then you were holding someone’s hand and screaming like you’d never screamed before, in more pain than you’d ever experienced in your life, for more hours than you thought possible in a day. 

When it was done, a nurse dumped your newborn on your chest, a tiny little lump of flesh so red he matched his hair. His father’s hair. His grandfather’s hair. A baby boy. A nurse said something about a name but all you could do was lay there and watch as the baby opened his cerulean eyes and began to wail.

[thevoidfishsminstrel]

“Hey!” Kara frowned, picking up the pillow that had just hit her in the head and hugging it to her chest.

Alex flopped down on the other end of the couch with a bottle of beer. “Stop staring at the door like a puppy then. Your gay is showing.”

Kara sputtered. “Wha- I’m not-”

Alex just raised an eyebrow and Kara sunk down further into the couch.

She pouted. “I’m not gay anyway.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Alright, sorry but ‘your pan is showing’ just sounds like I’m talking about the mess in your kitchen.”

“Well you try scrubbing it! I told you - it didn’t even come off with superspeed!”

Alex laughed and shook her head. “Well that’s your own fault for trying to make pancakes with laservision.”

Kara grumbled and pushed at Alex’s thighs with her toes. Alex slapped at them and when that didn’t stop her, tickled the soles of her feet. Kara shrieked and fell off the couch with a thud, pouting down into the floor as Alex laughed. At least the pillow still clutched to her chest had somewhat softened the blow to her floorboards.

Alex rested her feet on Kara’s back in retribution. “Anyway, stop trying to change the subject.”

Kara sighed and turned her face to the side so she could talk without inhaling dust. She really needed to vacuum. “What subject? You threw a pillow at me and then made fun of my cooking skills.”

“More like lack thereof. But that’s not what I’m talking about - I’m talking about you being all dumb and in love with Lena.”

Kara’s sputtering turned into a coughing fit as it unsettled some dust. Alex was no help. “I don’t- I’m not in love with Lena!”

She could feel Alex rolling her eyes from the floor. “Kara, your crush can be seen from space. I bet everyone on Mars knows about it.”

“Not fair - they can mindread.”

Alex prodded her heels into Kara’s back. “Not the point. Why don’t you just ask her out?”

Kara sighed. “She doesn’t like me like that.”

Alex’s tone softened a little. “What makes you say that?”

She sighed and rolled over, staring up at the ceiling and hugging the pillow to her chest. Alex replaced her feet on Kara’s stomach. “She gives the best cuddles when we have movie nights, and we hug and stuff when I go to her office for lunch, and one time I accidentally kissed her on the cheek as I was leaving but she seemed happy so I do that sometimes now. But she never kisses me, and whenever we’re at game night or around other people she’s not quite as cuddly and our hugs don’t last as long.”

“Your hugs are shorter around us?”

Kara ignored her. “And sometimes I say ‘I love you’ - ‘cause friends say that to each other too, right?” She glanced at Alex but didn’t wait for a reply. “And she’ll say it back, but she never just says it to me first. And I always tell her how good and smart and amazing she is - ‘cause she is and she gets all cute and blushy and she does that scrunchy smile when I do. Anyway… I know she cares about me too and we’re best friends and she does say nice things too, but not like I do.”

Alex was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. “Well maybe she just communicates differently.”

Before Kara had too long to ponder that, her front door opened and she sat up excitedly, dislodging Alex’s feet and almost making her slide off the couch too in the process. “Lena!”

Lena smiled at her over the couch and closed the front door. “Sorry I’m late - we had an issue down in one of the labs.”

Kara sprang up, stepping over a grumbling Alex, and rushed over to where Lena was hanging up her coat beside the door. “No, no it’s fine. Alex and I were just talking.”

“Oh yeah?” Lena unwrapped the scarf from around her neck with a smile. “What about?”

“Hm? Oh. Um…” She adjusted her glasses nervously. “Just this cute puppy I saw earlier.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Lena reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, swiping through it before turning it to show Kara the screen with a grin. “He was sitting outside L-corp when I left.”

It was a picture of an extremely fluffy white puppy, panting happily up at the camera, wearing a supergirl bandana.

Kara gasped, taking the phone from Lena to look more closely at the adorable ball of fluff. “He’s so cute! I can’t believe CEO Lena Luthor stopped to take a picture of a cute dog. Everyone’s going to think you’ve gone soft.”

She laughed, shrugging. “If it makes Kara Danvers smile I think it’s worth it.”

Kara beamed at her and pulled her into a hug. Lena melted into it and Kara couldn’t help but hold on a little tighter at the feel of Lena in her arms.

Alex wandered up to them and cleared her throat, breaking them out of their little bubble. She smiled warmly and hugged Lena but Kara would have called it more of a quick squeeze than a proper hug. Clearly Kara’s hugs were superior.

“Good to see you, Lena.”

“You too, Alex.” She held up a plastic bag and wiggled her eyebrows at Kara. “Now who wants potstickers while we watch?”

“You brought me potstickers?!” Kara lit up like the puppy in the photo. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Alex scoffed, taking the bag into the kitchen to unload them and divide them into bowls. (They’d learnt long ago that if they didn’t Kara would eat them all and leave none for the others. A few of Lena’s always seemed to somehow make their way into Kara’s bowl though.) “Oh please - she bought you an office full of flowers and an entire media company. Just accept it.”

They both blushed as Alex ignored them and took her bowl into the living room, flopping down on the couch and turning on the TV.

Their monthly movie night would normally have included Kelly but she was visiting James and so it was just the three of them.

Lena picked up the remaining two bowls, sneakily redistributing them and handing Kara the one with extra.

Kara smiled dopily at her. “I missed you.”

She laughed. “We had lunch together.” But she brushed their fingers together, squeezing Kara’s pinky affectionately before they moved to join Alex.

———

It had been Kara’s turn to choose the movie and so they watched Lilo and Stitch, much to Lena’s amusement and Alex’s chagrin. But the whole time, Kara couldn’t help but think about what Alex had said.

Lena stayed cuddled up beside her, not quite like when they were alone, but always close. At the moments she knew made Kara laugh, she’d grin and bump their shoulders together. When a bit where Kara would cry was coming up, she’d lean a little closer, tangling their fingers and giving three little squeezes.

And then Kara began to think about all the other little gestures. Fingers brushing as they walked side by side, intertwining on top of a table, running through her hair after a hard fight. Hands running down her arms as they part from a hug, over her shoulders as she passes behind her chair, flexing at her side as they stand too close but not close enough. A thumb brushing over her knuckles with understanding, over her forearm with empathy, over her cheek with affection.

When they first met, Lena would give a polite handshake at most. Lena may not initiate hugs very often but she always melted into them. She may not be entirely comfortable around other people but she always gravitated towards Kara in a room and let down her walls when they were alone. Lena may not say ‘I love you’ but she showed it in a thousand little gestures. In flowers, and a media company, and tickets to shows Kara rambled to her about. In her favourite foods, her favourite places, pictures of her favourite animals, just to make her smile. In the way she clears time in her CEO’s schedule to have lunch or watch movies or just listen, like even the small things are important. Like Kara’s important.

Alex left soon after the end of the movie, claiming she had promised to video call with Kelly. Lena cleared away their bowls and drinks while Kara sat, lost in thought.

“Kara?”

She blinked herself out of the daze, looking up at Lena who came to sit beside her, immediately tangling their hands together.

“Is everything alright?”

She smiled and squeezed Lena’s hand in reassurance. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Lena tilted her head, a strand of hair falling from behind her ear, eyes filled with patient curiosity and care. “About what?”

Kara reached out and gently tucked the hair back behind her ear, trailing her hand softly across Lena’s jaw. “About how I’m in love with you. And that I’m hoping you might just be too.”

Lena’s fingers twitched in her hand, heart thumping in her chest and breath hitching in her throat.

Kara brushed her thumb over Lena’s cheek, waiting for Lena to make the next move, to show her how she wanted to be loved.

Lena ducked her head, bringing her other hand to play with Kara’s fingers as a blush rose on her cheeks and a shy smile spread across her face. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?”

Kara smiled. “Always.”

She looked up and bit her lip. “I think that I love you too. And that I’d really like to kiss you now if that’s alright.”

Kara brought her hand up to cup Lena’s other cheek as Lena’s hands slid around her waist. “I think that would be more than alright.”

Butterflies exploded in her chest at the feel of Lena’s lips against her own and warmth ran through her, down to her fingertips. Their kiss was broken by the joy bubbling up inside them, smiles too wide to continue.

They rested their foreheads together and Kara hoped more than anything that this would be her last first kiss. Because she wanted to spend the rest of her life learning how to love and be loved by Lena Luthor.